The Cassandra Complex - Brian Stableford [16]
“Don’t be absurd,” Lisa retorted. “I was wondering if he might have been away when the burglars came to call. Have you got the abduction on tape?”
“Probably not,” Kenna told her. “Unfortunately, Dr. Miller’s house doesn’t appear to have any security cameras, not even in the hallway or on the porch. It’s a very old house—and he’s a very old man. Twentieth-century habits die hard, as you obviously know. The street cams will have picked something up in spite of the blackout, but it won’t be much and they probably won’t prove anything one way or the other. Tracking the getaway will be very difficult indeed.”
“This is crazy,” Lisa said helplessly. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It certainly doesn’t,” agreed the chief inspector. “But whoever did this had reason enough to send at least seven people to formulate a plan of extraordinary complexity. They think it makes sense—and we have to figure out what sense they think it makes. Continue your inquiries, Dr. Friemann—but don’t go back to the labs with Dr. Forrester. Mr. Smith will want you close at hand when he arrives, and for some time afterward. We’ll probably need you to look through Miller’s house in the hope that you can give us some information about the items that have been removed, but Mr. Smith will have to decide when. In the meantime, ask one of Fire and Rescue’s backup paramedics to treat your hand and arm.”
Having given these instructions, Judith Kenna turned on her heel and left. Lisa watched the chief inspector walk back along the corridor, moving with quasimilitary rigidity. While she was still standing there, dumbly, the remaining firemen pushed past her, reeling up two flabby hoses as they went. It wasn’t until they’d all disappeared that Mike Grundy shuffled around the corner where he’d presumably been waiting out of sight.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t realize quite how much shit had hit the fan—the news about Miller’s house being turned over only just came through. What the hell’s going on, Lisa?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa said, wishing that she did. You’ll work it out, the man—or woman—who’d shot her had said. If we don’t have what we need, we’ll be back, and next time.… Now Lisa wished that she’d heard the end of that sentence. There was another that seemed even more ominous in present retrospect. Nobody cares about you, you stupid bitch! the distorted voice had informed her. Miller never cared, and no matter what he promised you, you’ll be dead soon enough.
But Morgan had never promised her anything: not love, not marriage, not partnership, not wealth, not even a substantial share of his meager wisdom.
Whatever information she was supposed to have must still be safe and secure in Morgan Miller’s mind—but if his captors thought they were going to beat it out of him, they had another think coming. Lisa was convinced that if there was one man in the world who would never give in to pressure or temptation, it was Morgan Miller.
“I suppose it isn’t likely to be personal,” Mike mused, carefully leaving out the inflection that would have made it into a question. “Whoever did this was attacking Applied Genetics, not Burdillon. Why else take the trouble to drag him clear of the fire? If their reason’s political, they’ll probably want to brag about it, but if not…” He trailed off temptingly, but Lisa had no other suggestion ready.
She wondered if it was possible that the bombers had gone after Mouseworld simply because it was a classic experiment, a living legend. Extreme Gaeans, way out on the green end of the spectrum, might conceivably believe that hitting Mouseworld might help them make a point about the real London, Paris, New York, and Rome and their plight within the context of the other war that dare not speak its name: the war for the salvation of the ecosphere. But what, if so, was the motive for Morgan’s abduction?
She recalled then that Thomas Sweet had told her that Chan Kwai Keung wasn’t answering his phone, and that he hadn’t been able to get a hold of Stella Filisetti either. It was possible that the register of crimes patiently