Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [51]
‘You’re recording my posture?’ Tegan echoed, standing up straight.
The elder one was searching the room. Drawer after drawer was empty, neither of the beds had been slept in.
‘Where are your belongings?’
‘I’m wearing them all,’ she said brusquely. ‘Apart from my shoes.’
The woman bent down to investigate them: a pair of cheap white high heels that Tegan had bought the week before from Freeman Hardy and Willis. The young police officer picked them up and dropped them in a plastic bag.
Tegan had regained some of her composure, now that her life was not in immediate danger. ‘Do you mind telling me exactly what I’m meant to have done?’
‘We will deal with all that back at the Lodge.’ The man moved to lead her away.
‘We’ll deal with it here,’ Tegan told him. At the same time she was worrying about Nyssa: try to get them away from here before she comes looking for me.
The male Adjudicator faced her. ‘You have been consorting with aliens,’ he stated.
Tegan couldn’t deny it.
Roz Forrester was on her knees, trying to get her breath back.
The headless corpse of the man she had killed lay beside her. There was blood everywhere, She had tried to stop it from happening, Roz told herself it was an accident. The alarm was still ringing, and she had to get moving.
Reaching into the pocket of the dead man’s tunic she found an identity card, a Unitatan coin and a couple of key cards. She palmed them and left the room, closing and locking the door behind her with a standard Adjudicator override code that she knew was already in use now, a couple of centuries before her own time. From her Academy days the Bureau had used a mnemonica to tuck all that sort of information away in her mind. Every single code that she was authorized to use, including all the ones that had been declassified centuries ago.
It was the middle of the night, and there were few people around. The lighting was dimmed. She needed to find a security terminal. Before that, she’d have to stop and consult her map. She came to a halt by a statue of an Asian man in a long kaftan: ‘Chun Sen’. It looked out of place in an otherwise bare corridor. She’d heard the name before, but couldn’t remember in what context. Her breathing was a bit more even now, but her lungs were still sore and her wrist was burning where the metal line had dug into it. She was surprised how exhausted she felt. Ten years ago, five years ago, she’d have been fine. Now she needed to take a painkiller before she blacked out. She slumped at the base of the statue, pulled herself out of view and slipped the dispenser from her pocket.
Three Adjudicators in full combat gear ran past, travelling too fast to see her. From behind the statue, Roz strained to hear what they were saying.
‘Door’s locked.’
‘Open it.’
A pause as the door hissed open. Then horrified cries.
‘A Scientifica technician.’
‘Lots of glass. Killer must have jumped out the window.’
‘Must have had a jetpack.’
‘No, look, he used a hook and line. Climbed down.’
‘Crime scene, officer, don’t touch it.’
‘Alert security control: killer at loose in the city.’
‘Get a memory droid in here.’
‘I’m glad the killer’s not in here any more.’
Roz was a little light-headed now that the pills were taking effect. She stood and made for the end of the corridor before the Adjudicators had finished. The lift shafts were concentrated towards the middle of each floor.
She was only one floor away from level one-zero-zero, her objective.
Whitfield watched as the dozen research scientists moved into place. They performed the normal checks on their radiation suits. Once this was done, she gave the signal to begin, and pulled down her visor. The technicians at the first console began the start-up procedure. Beneath the observation dome, fusion generators were roaring into life.
If you were aware of that, you could feel the floor hum very slightly. Other technicians began their work, murmuring reports into their recorders.
‘Stage three in five seconds,’ she heard the Protector call. Outside, the Machine responded. The lights