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“People change.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe it’s Megan.”
He looked up sharply. “What is?”
“Maybe that was what changed him. When he met Megan.”
Norton grunted. A waiter came by with the dessert cart, but nothing appealed. They settled for gene-enhanced coffees, for which the place was apparently famous, and the bill. Sevgi found herself staring at the antique Mars motion ad again.
“You know,” she said slowly, because they’d both been skating around it all evening, “the real issue isn’t who this guy is. The real issue is who helped him get home.”
“Ah. That.”
“Trick out the fucking ship’s dji
“You think Coyle and Rovayo spotted that? I tried to steer past it.”
“Yeah. That’s happened before on the Mars run, we just don’t like to publicize the fact. Sometimes they just die. Nice shot.”
Norton gri
“Yeah. Maybe a dozen times in sixty-odd years of traffic. And for my money, you’re talking hardware-based failures every time.”
“You don’t think they’ll bite?”
“What, the secret flaws of the n-dji
“And meantime—”
“Meantime”—Sevgi leaned across the table, all humor erased from her face—“we both know that someone else on Mars with some serious machine intrusion skills had a hand in this. Our mystery ca
Norton shook his head. “Thing I don’t get. Why wake him up so early he’s got to eat everybody else to survive? Why not just trigger the cap a couple of weeks out from Earth.”
Sevgi rolled another shrug. “My guess? It was a glitch. Whoever took down the n-dji
Norton grimaced. “Well, there’s a limited number of reasons you’d hire a variant thirteen.”
“Yeah.”
They were both quiet for a while. Finally, Sevgi looked up at her partner and offered a thin smile.
“We’d better find this guy fast, Tom.”
CHAPTER 8
He caught the last ferry across the bay to Tiburon, hooked an autocab at the other end, and rode out to Mill Valley with the windows cranked down. Warm, green-scented air poured in, brought him a sharp memory of walking under redwood canopies with Megan in Muir Woods. He put it away again with great care, handling the image at the edges like an antique photo he might smudge or a fragment of broken mirror. He watched the soft glow from passing street lamps and the lights in wood-frame homes built back from the roads, shrouded in foliage. It was as distant from Horkan’s Pride and her cargo of carnage as he was currently from home. You looked at the well-kept, scenic-sculpted roadways, all that quiet and residential greenery, and you didn’t want to believe that the man who’d crashed into the ocean that morning with only the corpses he’d mutilated for company could be out there under the same night sky.
Sevgi Ertekin’s words drifted back through his mind. The wan intensity on her face as she spoke.
We’d better find this guy fast, Tom.
The cab found the address and coasted gently to a halt under the nearest street lamp. Idling there, it made scarcely more noise than the breeze through the trees, but still he saw downstairs lights spring up in the house, and the front door opened. Jeff stood there framed by the light, waved hesitantly. Must have been waiting at the window. No sign of Megan at his side.
Norton walked up the steep curve of the driveway, suddenly feeling the hours and the distance from New York. Cicadas whirred in the bushes and trees planted on either side, water splashed in the stone bowl fountain at the top. The house stood across the slope in rambling, porch-fronted spaciousness. His brother came down the steps to greet him, clapped him awkwardly on the shoulder.
“You remembered where to find us okay?”
“Took a taxi.”
“Uh, yeah. Right.”
They went in together.
“Megan not about?” he asked casually.
“No, she’s over at Hilary’s with the kids.”
“Hilary?”
“Oh, right. Haven’t seen you since, uh. Hilary, she’s our new legal adviser at the foundation. Got twins the same age as Jack. They’re having a sleepover.” Jeff Norton gestured toward the living room. “Come and sit down. Get you a drink?”
The room was much the same as Norton remembered it—battered cloth-covered armchairs facing a fire-effect screen set in a raw brick facing, Northwest Native art and family photos crowding the walls. Polished wood floors and Middle Eastern rugs. Jeff served them vintage Indonesian arrack from a bar cabinet made of reclaimed driftwood. Low-level glow from the screen flames and the Japanese-style wall sconces lit his profile as he worked. Norton watched him.
“So I guess you saw we made the feeds?”
Jeff nodded, pouring. “Yeah, just been looking at it. COLIN death ship in mystery plunge. That’s why you’re out this way?”
“Got it in one. It’s a genuine class-one nightmare.”
“Well, I guess you had to start earning that big salary you pull down sooner or later.” A brief, sidelong grin to show it wasn’t meant. Yeah, but somehow, Jeff, it always is, isn’t it. “How are things over at Jefferson Park these days? They treating you well?”
Norton shrugged. “Same as it ever was. Can’t complain. Got a new partner, hired out of NYPD Homicide. She’s a couple of years younger than me, keeps me on my toes.”
“Attractive?”
“Not that it makes any difference, but yeah, she is.”
Jeff came across with the two glasses, handed him one. He gri
“Jeff, for Christ’s sake.” No real anger; he was too travel-worn and weary for it. “Do you really have to act like such a throwback all the time?”
“What? Girl’s attractive, you don’t do the math, add up your chances?” Still standing, his brother knocked back a chunk of the arrack, gri
Norton pressed thumb and forefinger to his eyelids. “You know what, Jeff, maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. But it isn’t my primary concern right now. You think we could talk about something that matters for a change?”
He didn’t see the way the expression on his brother’s face shifted, the way the grin faded out, gave way to a watchful tension. Jeff backed up and dropped into the opposing armchair, thrust his legs out in front of him. When Norton looked at him, he met his gaze and gestured. “Okay, Tom, you got it. Whatever I can do. But it’s a long time since I had much pull in New York. I mean, I can maybe make some calls if they’re on your back, but—”