Lethal Outbreak (8 page)

The Hungry Human was not a happy place. The waiter complained, ‘All of a sudden, the powers-that-be are coming down on mixed menus like a ton of bricks. I don’t know why. It doesn’t make sense. They seem to want us to cater for outers or majors but not both. That’s not what we’re about.’

Lexi nodded. ‘So you’re still going to serve us? An outer and a major?’

‘Of course. It’s what we do.’

‘Good for you,’ Troy replied.

They each ordered a lunch. While they waited, Troy whispered, ‘I want to gate-crash the TRAPT
meeting tonight but I can’t. Precious Austin might have warned them about me. She might even be there to point me out. We can’t send Dominic Varney in. He’s a pro at undercover work and he’s been before, but he’s looking more and more like a serious suspect. Sadly. And you can’t go because you’re an undesirable – an outer.’

‘There’s an obvious solution.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You go in disguise.’

‘Tell me you’re joking.’

‘Okay,’ Lexi said quietly. ‘I’m joking. But … ’

‘No.’

‘You’d look good as … ’

‘No. I’m not clutching at that straw.’

‘That’s that, then. No funny disguises.’ Lexi sighed before adding, ‘There are other ways, though. We could get the commander to give us another undercover person to be our eyes and ears.’

‘It’s not the same as having our own eyes and ears. And we’d have to tell him or her what’s going on. Bang goes keeping the case quiet. What else have you got?’

‘You mentioned surveillance equipment in the car. It’s an option,’ Lexi said, looking around to make sure none of the other customers were close enough to
hear her. ‘I could rig the place with hidden cameras and microphones. Almost as good as our own eyes and ears. I could use a bit of help from Terabyte and I definitely need to slip into the community centre before the meeting. Right after this if you want.’

‘That’s more like it. Better than me in a comedy wig, glasses and moustache.’

‘It would have been great to see you … ’

‘No, it wouldn’t.’

Lexi laughed. ‘I’ll contact Terabyte. That community centre will be like a theatre stage tonight. But none of the actors will know it.’

In Shepford Crime Central, Terabyte’s long hair flopped forward as he stared down at the controller. Pushing his hair over his shoulders and then his glasses further up his nose, he fine-tuned the receivers. ‘Yes,’ he announced. ‘All microphones and cameras working perfectly. All you need is some people. You’ll see everything, hear everything. In fact,’ he said, ‘you might hear too much. We might have to disentangle the chat if a few conversations go on at the same time. I’ve got some software that’ll do that.’

‘Thanks, Terabyte,’ said Lexi.

Looking up at the large split-screen of the empty room, Troy nodded. ‘Let’s get this party started.’

Unaware that they were being monitored, the first members of Two Races Apart filed into the community room at eight twenty-five. Three women and one man, all over fifty years of age, stopped and removed their coats, slipping them over the backs of the seats. They seemed to be in very good spirits. The bugged space was about the size of a classroom, laid out with a few rows of plastic chairs. Tables and sports equipment were stacked against one wall at the far end.

‘The system will automatically freeze-frame mug shots,’ Lexi told Troy, ‘and try to identify the faces against databases.’

‘Good, because I don’t know any of them,’ said Troy.

But he recognized the next person to arrive. It was Precious Austin. She was talking to another woman, complaining about being hounded by police officers.

‘Did you tell them about us?’ her companion asked.

‘No,’ Precious lied.

Someone brought in a large tray of hot drinks. There were more mugs of tea than there were people to drink them. Plainly, they expected more arrivals. A
different person carried a second tray with a precisely arranged pattern of brightly coloured and chocolate brown cupcakes.

‘Mmm,’ Troy muttered to himself.

Some more members strolled in and cheerfully greeted the ones already in the community centre. Small groups formed. Tea was drunk. Cupcakes were enjoyed. The last few members joined the group.

In Crime Central, well away from the supporters of Two Races Apart but seeming very close, Lexi said, ‘Fourteen altogether. Mostly old folk. I’m sending a message to the commander. Every time the computer identifies someone, we want round-the-clock surveillance on them. And on anyone they meet.’

‘That figures.’

The general chatter slowly subsided, the small groups broke up and each member took a seat. At the front, the woman who’d arrived with Precious Austin gave a short celebratory talk. She spent most of her time relishing the news that the Integrated Games had been called off. The rest of the group clapped and cheered wildly. But no one in the room claimed credit for the cancellation. She finished by saying, ‘And that’s not all. Someone in power has finally come to their senses. Word is out that there’s going to be a crackdown on mixed restaurants. No more eating
next to tables with filthy insects. No more eating with the disgusting smell of alcohol. Our ideas – the ideas of Two Races Apart – are gaining ground! Small steps towards a bigger, brighter future. It’s now time to ramp up the pressure on segregation in hospitals and schools.’ The end of her speech was met by further applause, loud and long.

The members of TRAPT broke up once more into clusters. Each group talked about something different. The recent swing towards separation. The weather. Complaints that outers made more demands on the health service because of the way they reproduced. Why separate hospitals were just common sense. The shameful effect of misbehaving young outers on teenage majors.

‘Hear that?’ Troy said to Terabyte and Lexi. ‘You’re corrupting me.’

Troy didn’t listen to his colleagues’ mocking replies. His attention shifted to one particular conversation. A female voice said, ‘I wonder what happened to Gritty. I liked him.’

‘I saw him this weekend,’ an old man replied. ‘I don’t think he saw me.’

‘Where? What was he doing?’

The answer was masked by loud laughter from a nearby collection of members.

Troy cried, ‘We need that! What did he say?’

Head down, Terabyte said, ‘I’m on the job.’

‘Give it some welly.’

Lexi pointed at the output from one of the spy cameras. ‘It was them. That bunch of four on the far right.’

‘Yeah. I see.’

‘It was the old bloke with the stick speaking. Facial recognition hasn’t identified him,’ Lexi said.

Once the hubbub had died down a bit and Troy could hear the huddle of four again, the subject had changed. They were bemoaning the performance of the local school. ‘Not like it was in the good old days when I was there.’

After another thirty seconds, Terabyte announced, ‘I’ve got it. A clever combination of software enhancement and lip-reading. He said, “Sunday night near Shallow End. He was walking along the road.” Then they moved to an equally exciting topic.’

‘Actually,’ Troy replied, ‘that is quite exciting.’ Straightaway, he contacted Commander Cheryl McVeigh’s office. ‘Troy Goodhart. I need immediate surveillance. I want someone to follow an old fellah home – from the community centre in Shepford’s second quarter – and find out who he is. You can’t
miss him. He’s doddery, with a very old-fashioned grey suit, a duffle coat and a wooden walking stick.’

It turned out that the elderly member of Two Races Apart was Ralph Hester. As Troy walked up the short path to his front door, he said to Lexi. ‘This is good. It’ll put more wind in our sails.’

‘We’ll see.’

When the old man opened the door, Troy asked, ‘Mr Hester?’

‘Yes?’

‘Detectives Troy Goodhart and Lexi Four. Can we come in?’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘You may have witnessed a crime on Sunday
evening. We need to know if you can identify the man concerned.’

‘Well, I was going to have a shower and go to bed.’

‘We won’t take long.’

‘All right. But are you sure you’re detectives? You’re so young.’

Troy guessed that, at Ralph Hester’s age, almost everyone looked young. In answer, he lifted up his life-logger.

In the living room, which had a faintly unpleasant smell, Troy held up an image of Dominic Varney and asked, ‘Do you recognize him?’

‘Um, yes. It’s Gritty. Well, it’s a man I know as Gritty. I don’t suppose it’s his real name. Mr Gritty doesn’t sound right.’ Wobbly on his legs, Ralph looked across at Lexi and said, ‘Are you an outer, then?’

‘Yes. Does it matter?’

The old man merely grunted.

‘Do you know where Gritty was on Sunday evening?’ Troy asked.

‘What’s he done?’

‘Maybe nothing. To find out, I need to know where he was on Sunday night.’

‘Now you mention it, I saw him at Shallow End.’

‘Where exactly?’ Troy put a street map on his life-logger
and held it out for Ralph.

The old man’s legs were shaky and unreliable but his shoulders and arms were well developed and strong. His forefinger pointed to a spot just along from the laboratory buildings. ‘There. Yes. That’s it.’

‘Which way was he going?’

‘That way.’ His finger moved across the screen toward Shallow End Laboratories.

‘And what time was this?’

Ralph scratched his head. ‘Did you say your name was Goodhart?’

Troy tried to be patient. ‘That’s right.’

‘I went to school with a girl who married a Goodhart. What was her name? Yvonne. That was it. They had a grandson who … I don’t know, but there was some funny business. I can’t remember … ’

‘I’m sorry,’ Troy said. ‘I don’t know anyone called Yvonne.’ Eager to get back on track, he said, ‘Think back to Sunday. What time did you see Gritty?’

‘Dear me. I remember more about eighty years ago – with Yvonne at school – than about a few days ago. I don’t know for sure but I think it was between half-past seven and eight.’

‘Okay. Thanks. That’s useful.’

As soon as they left Ralph Hester’s house, Lexi turned to her partner and said, ‘Dominic Varney near
the labs around eight o’clock on Sunday. That’s a howling gale in our sails.’

‘Yeah. Let’s sleep on it.’

‘Sleep? If you don’t mind, I’ll just think about it. And get a search warrant for his house and hut.’ She glanced at Troy’s lined face and said, ‘What’s up?’

‘He’s a colleague,’ Troy muttered with a sad shake of his head. ‘A police officer.’

‘Someone we should be able to trust?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Nothing’s certain yet. Putting him near the crime scene doesn’t make him guilty,’ Lexi said.

‘No. But it’s too close for comfort.’

‘There’s also the issue of whether Hester’s reliable. He admitted he’s got a shocking memory.’

Troy said, ‘But he didn’t hesitate much. He was pretty definite. Ancient but believable.’

Lexi smiled. ‘He still wasn’t a good advert for old age.’

‘If I was unkind, I’d say he was in God’s waiting room.’

She laughed. ‘At his age, he probably likes to think he’s going to walk down a tunnel towards a bright light, throw away his walking stick and enter paradise with all the other majors, feeling like a teenager again.’

‘What’s an outer got to look forward to? Decay or cremation.’ Forgetting for a moment a case that had taken an unwelcome turn, Troy said, ‘Imagine you’re on a plane and the engines fail. There’s nothing but ocean all around and you’re plunging towards it. You’re pretty much guaranteed to die. What do you think about?’

‘I wouldn’t have time to think,’ Lexi replied. ‘I’m the pilot, trying to restart the engines.’

‘If you were a passenger.’

Lexi shrugged. ‘No bright lights. No paradise. My friends? Solved cases? I don’t know. I’d be fed up for sure.’

‘I’d be content. Comforted by knowing it’s part of God’s plan for me.’

‘What? Huh! You’d be annoyed, angry, scared … ’

‘No. He’d be taking me home.’

Lexi shook her head in disbelief. Realizing that she wasn’t going to shake her partner’s faith or get him to admit regret, she switched back to their investigation. ‘In a way, it could happen. For outers anyway. If someone releases the soil sample, we’ll all be waiting for the crash.’

Abruptly, Troy stopped walking. ‘Good point. Right now, nothing much matters, apart from catching whoever’s got that vial.’

Lexi also came to a halt. ‘You’ve got some strange ideas, but you care about outers, don’t you?’

‘All human beings have got an equal right to life.’ Troy broke into a smile and said, ‘Let’s go and mend those engines.’

‘Yvonne Goodhart?’ Troy’s grandmother said. ‘I haven’t heard that name in a while. She’s your great-grandma, honey. My mother-in-law. Or she was. Long since gone. Why?’

About to load the plates into the dish washer, Troy hesitated. ‘Um … No reason. Just that an old man I talked to – Ralph Hester – mentioned her.’

Gran shook her head. ‘Can’t say the name means anything to me. Small world, though.’

‘Yes.’ Troy placed the plates in the rack and reached for the mugs.

Gran shot a glance at him. ‘Did he mention anything else?’

Troy didn’t want to share Mr Hester’s comment about Yvonne’s grandson – his own father – and some funny business. He couldn’t face an awkward conversation about his parents. ‘No. Not really.’

‘You’re looking tired.’

‘It’s a … tricky case.’

‘I can see it’s bothering you.’

‘I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew.’

‘I’m sure you haven’t, honey.’

Troy smiled lamely. ‘We might make a bit of progress in the morning.’

‘I’m proud of you, young Detective Goodhart. Your mum and dad would be as well.’

Troy nodded. That night, he thought of his parents instead of going to sleep.