The Beam: Season Three (17 page)

Dominic gestured down at his polished black lace-ups. “Every time I tie my shoes.”
 

“It was halfway up one of the victims’ noses.”
 

Dominic rose from his squat and came closer. Gross trophy indeed. It wasn’t a shoelace. Now it was a shoelace covered in boogers and mucus.
 

Dominic approached the black thing dangling from the end of Lewis’s stylus. Its end curled upward. If it had had a tiny face, it would have been looking up to acknowledge Dominic’s stare. But it didn’t have a face. Just the minuscule silver dot at its tip, which opened slightly as Dominic bent toward it, showing its tiny ring of teeth.
 

“Drug worm?” Dominic tried not to show his revulsion, but it wasn’t easy. It fit: the idea that the two dead men in the other room were traffickers, and that a couple of thugs had been fighting over illicit business. But something about that hadn’t felt right to Dominic from Go, and the idea that one of the smuggler’s cargo had been caught trying to make its escape now that the host was dead didn’t change his uneasy, doesn’t-quite-fit feeling.
 

Lewis shook his head. He flexed his non-stylus hand, and Dominic saw the glimmer of a resin barrier flash and sparkle on it. He used the resin-protected hand to retrieve the black object by its other end and held it up like a snake. Now that its tail was being pinched, the thing seemed agitated. It was curling up like a fisherman’s hook, wiggling, looking for something to bite — or, if it was anything like a drug worm, to burrow into. The very idea of worms gave Dominic the creeps. The kind that was swallowed was bad enough — not too different from the tied-off condoms Grandy used to report waiting for smugglers in his day to pass. But this looked like one of the newer mimic variety, which made itself at home in just about any tissue, then used nano-fabricators to build itself a perfectly ID-matched cocoon using its host’s own Beam connection. Or Crossbrace connection, which was the case in most flop houses like this shitty apartment.
 

“It’s not a drug worm,” said Lewis.
 

“Maybe you should have left it where it was,” Dominic said, thinking of the fit the sweeper crew would have, yet again, when they found out Lewis hadn’t left the scene as whole as he should have.
 

“Watch this, Dom.” A small grin lifted the corner of Lewis’s mouth.
 

Dominic thought his partner might hand him the glistening thing, but instead he pulled a trash can from under a desk (another scene disturbance; Lewis made his own rules) and dropped the worm into it. The can was metal, and despite looking like fabric or membrane, the worm must have been metal as well because it made a scratching racket as it writhed and thrashed. It had been so quiet across the stylus, it was hard to believe its frenzy now. The thing looked furious, flicking from side to side and trying to climb the can’s walls. At first, Dominic thought it couldn’t climb out because the walls were too slick, but there was something else going on that became apparent the longer he looked at the thing. It was animated while at the bottom of the can but seemed to die and become limp once it rose higher. Then it fell to the bottom, regained energy, and repeated the cycle.
 

“I didn’t leave it in the victim’s nose because I don’t think it wants to stick around,” said Lewis. “It’s a creeper. Systematic full-body anonymizer. Have you seen one before?”
 

Dominic watched the thing scurry in the bottom of the trash. Lewis lifted the can from its position near the ground to cradle it in the pit of his arm, and it fell still. Lewis plucked its inert form from the can’s bottom and dropped it into an evidence pouch he’d had in an inside pocket. The pouch was one of the reinforced ones, made of paper-thin but bullet-strong NuLon. He set the empty can down, and the pouch disappeared back into his pocket like the end of a magician’s trick.
 

“No,” Dominic answered. He felt a bit sick even with the worm out of sight.
 

“This is the first one I’ve seen in person, but I’ve read briefs. They come up on victims while they’re quiet, usually asleep, then enter somewhere under the skin and proceed to erase their cell IDs. And by IDs, I mean any Beam or Crossbrace ID they’ve adopted — but DNA too. All the key identification sequences. The process of anonymizing that much identifying information takes days, so it’d be simple for anyone afflicted to just head to a clinic when symptoms start. Even a rudimentary house medic bot could probably handle it. That’s why creepers burrow up to uncouple the victim’s spinal cord to paralyze them first and sabotage the vocal centers second.”

“Why wasn’t it trying to get at you when you came in here with it hanging over your stylus?” The memory made Dominic’s skin crawl. Creepers sounded like ticks that dove deep and stayed for days, and Lewis had walked in with it swinging in plain sight, free to act.
 

“They’re keyed to one host,” said Lewis. “Now it wants to get away. They’re not very smart. Put them near the ground, and they scramble, but keep them high, and they think they’re caught.”
 

“One host?” Dominic blinked, now looking past Lewis into the other room toward the two dead men.

Detective Lewis read his expression. “Exactly. And they’re not cheap. They don’t wander buildings like rats; they’re sent after a specific target.”
 

“So someone…?”
 

Lewis nodded. “Someone very rich and very connected sent creepers in here for these two. The one from the other guy got away under the baseboard when I was nabbing this one. Marks ran off after it, but his handheld won’t be able to find it. It’ll shoot down to the foundation, tunnel through the Plasteel, then self-destruct.”
 

Dominic looked at Lewis’s pocket.

Lewis said, “It’s already self-destructing. Don’t worry. They don’t explode. They just sort of erase and shrivel.”
 

Dominic started to walk past Lewis, suddenly more interested in the two dead lowlifes than he’d been when they’d arrived on-scene. The instinct prickling at Dominic now made sense. Something really wasn’t right, and if the creepers had done the job Lewis had described, even the sweeper crew might not have been able to identify the bodies.
 

But before Dominic could enter the front room, a large torso blocked his way.
 

Dominic was large, but the man in front of him was several inches taller and several inches wider. Dominic could practically see his pectoral muscles and bulging arms through his charcoal-gray blazer. He had to look up after nearly colliding to meet the man’s chiseled chin. His eyes were nearly as gray as his suit, and Dominic could see the swirling within them as the data agents swarmed across his irises, tapping into his optic nerve, making the millions of touch points that were, somehow, being fed back to The Beam.
 

“Detectives Lewis and Long.” The big man held up his handheld. It blinked with an authentication sequence that Dominic knew not to bother verifying then settled into an image of a shield-shaped badge. “I am Special Agent Ray Workman, Quark Sector 7. Your services on-scene are no longer required.”
 

Dominic’s eyebrows drew together. Lewis bristled beside him. Behind the first agent, Dominic could see another. Tending to the corpses. Plugging into walls, waving a handheld that looked far more advanced than anything Dominic had ever seen.

“Who the fuck are you?” said Dominic.
 

“I am Special Agent Ray Workman, Quark — ”

No matter how advanced they became, machines never really stopped being machines. The simple repetition of the agent’s name and reporting agency made Dominic want to punch him. No artificial intelligence truly
got it
, as far as Dominic was concerned. The Beam may have kicked Crossbrace to the curb like an unwanted trashcan baby and wonders might abound these days, but you still couldn’t fix stupid.

Lewis beat Dominic to a reply. “This a District Zero police investigation. I don’t give a shit what Quark says, you’re not the — ”

“Detectives Lewis and Long. I have been authorized to provide you with certain information basic to this situation. We have reason to believe this is a Beam-related crime. Quark Police will now take over the investigation. If your agency is required, your captain will be alerted. As a courtesy in this event, you will be notified and reinstated with any files you have built thus far.”
 

Lewis’s hand flew to his head as if smacking a fly. He made a furious, disbelieving noise.
 

“You will find your visual and cache records erased as of fifteen-oh-four today. Do not attempt to recover them. Erasure of records implies your confidentiality regarding any biological records you may have formed. DZPD public statue oh-one-oh-seven-point-four-dash-beta-six prohibits you to speak of any matters pertaining to information transferred cross-authority here today. Thank you for your compliance.”

The agent looked directly at Dominic. “My scan shows you do not have any Beam-interfacing bodily hardware at all. Is that correct?”
 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dominic said.
 

The agent extended a hand the size of a small dinner plate. “Please give me any physical records you have taken.”
 

Dominic hesitated, wondering if this was a fight worth having. Nobody really knew how far Quark’s intel went these days, now that The Beam had infected the city like a plague. Crossbrace and the add-on proliferation had given Quark billions of eyes, and The Beam had doubled that number — or tripled it, or increased it tenfold. Whatever he withheld, he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t be caught. He was on the cusp of a big promotion. Was it worth risking over two dead guys in a shithole apartment?
 

On one hand, no — it definitely wasn’t. But on the other hand, Dominic couldn’t help wondering. Whether or not Quark’s claim to their own police force to “keep The Beam safe” was legitimate or not, one flatfoot cop couldn’t convince anyone to stand up for what felt right. But if Quark had busted in, what did that say about this seemingly simple and forgettable double murder? Their first queries to City Surveillance had come up empty, as if nobody was watching this section of town. The dead men, like Dominic, didn’t seem to have any technological add-ons or nanobots. That was strange. Usually, Dominic was any room’s only Luddite.

Dominic fished out his notebook and handed it to the agent, gritting his teeth.

His thoughts turned to the creeper in Lewis’s pocket. Had it done more than to erase the dead men, making them anonymous? Had it eradicated their technology as well? Had there once been records of what had happened here, but two worms — and now two big Quark agents — were making it all go away? What about this routine scene had drawn Quark’s attention…and merited the fixing power of two creeper worms?

“Thank you for your compliance,” said the agent. “Please report back to your precinct.”
 

Dominic had known that was coming, but hearing an order from the mouth of Quark — a company, not a civil service — burned his cheeks.
 

“Maybe we don’t want to go.”
 

“Please consult your badges,” said the agent. “You will find your assignments to this incident revoked. You are hereby — ”
 

“Revoked? Or erased?” Dominic interrupted.

“ — requested and required to return to your precinct. Further instructions on this matter, if there are to be any, will come from your captain.”
 

Dominic’s jaw worked. He looked over at Lewis, who had his handheld out, trying to pull up his records, aghast at how easily the agents had reached inside him and yanked out everything he’d recorded on-scene.
 

Dominic snatched the handheld. He tapped a few buttons and watched as the Quark agent’s eyes hardened, becoming still of swarming nanobots.
 

“Detective Long,” the agent said, “you are hereby requested and required to — ”

“You’re not in charge here as long as my query’s open.” Dominic held up Lewis’s device, which showed a pair of arrows chasing each other in a circle, superimposed over Lewis’s badge image.
 

“You are wasting time,” said the agent.
 

“Tell me how you know this is a Beam crime,” said Dominic.
 

“I am not obligated to — ”

“You’re right. You’re not obligated. You can keep your big fucking mouth shut, and we can both pretend that you have any goddamned authority to be here at all. Eventually, my query will make its way through the corrupt guts of city hall, and predictably, your company and its influencers will come out on top, and I’ll be ordered to vacate. At that point, my query will unlock the case, and you will be able to proceed.”
 

Dominic opened Lewis’s coat and fished the NuLon evidence pouch from inside, then held it up.
 

“There’s something in here that I’m told will self-destruct,” said Dominic. “I imagine it’s important.”

“What is it?” The agent looked like he might reach for the pouch, but instead he kept his hands still. He wouldn’t break protocol. Clerics could be cops, but in the strictest sense they were also software subject to if/then rules. Right now, nobody was in charge. That put the DZPD and Quark PD officers on the same footing for as long as the query hung.