radio frequencies will be dead by now.”
“Harris'
problem, not ours. If he doesn't like it, he can give us a new case.”
“Here's hoping.”
Major Harris had
his glasses on, as he skimmed through several reports and dumped them in a wire
tray. He took the glasses off when he was finished and set them down in front
of him, before leaning back in his chair. “I just got off the phone; you two
have problems. Big problems.”
Michael
exchanged a glance with Richard. “What's happened?”
“It's what
hasn't happened that should be of concern. I got the report from police up top,
and they're telling me that everything you said never happened; somebody has
cleaned the whole scene up. John Herrend is reported as missing and nobody
knows where he is.”
“What the hell?
I shot him through a door multiple times. He bled all over the floor, and we
ransacked the place looking for information. It's a dump, there's evidence
everywhere. Are you trying to tell me somebody phoned up Quick Repair, had the
bloody door replaced, and then hired cleaners to bleach the floor, tidy the
flat and dispose of the body without anybody talking? Come on, sir. It's a load
of crap,” Richard said, picking at the plaster on his finger.
“I know,” Harris
said, nodding. “But nobody else is going to believe you. Were you followed?
They'd have to be on the ball pretty quick, as you weren't up there that long,
and that's if they didn't just bribe some of the police officers.”
Michael
shrugged. “Maybe. We weren't looking. Getting tailed by corporate surveillance
wasn't exactly first on our list of thoughts, sir, but it makes sense if they
cleaned up so quickly.”
“You know,”
Richard said, leaning forward in his chair and locking his fingers together.
“John Herrend said he was an external contractor for Eratech, not a full blown
employee. It makes sense for both him and the company, because they can keep
each other at arm’s reach. He obviously knew something. Maybe they were going
to take him out themselves after we left?”
Harris nodded
again. He took a packet of cigarettes out the breast pocket of his uniform,
branded with the cross of Saint George, and inserted one into the corner of his
mouth. “Certainly a possibility. A good one, even. I sent fire teams to
investigate the addresses we managed to pull from those phone numbers. A real
pain to track down. I'm going to phone down to ops and see what they've got.”
Michael sat
rigid as he watched, waited, and felt his stomach knot, as he listened to
Harris on the phone. His heartbeat became the sole focus of his attention,
pounding away inside his chest, as sweat formed in the crevices of his palms.
He saw the major's expression become severe.
Harris's eyes
narrowed. He muttered a single word into the receiver, then hung up. “One of
the teams isn't checking in: Stark's. Go with Corporal Hill's section, and find
out what's going on down there. There's another section near Hayes, and I'll
get them to back you up, but it might be a while. Go.”
“Shit,” Richard
said.
They ran for the
lifts. A voice on the loudspeaker ordered Hill's section to the armoury.
Richard slapped at the call button again and again as if it would somehow make
the lift go faster. Finally it arrived, and he hit the button for the ground
floor.
“These people
will have cleared out by the time we get there; they'll know more of us are
coming,” Michael said. “Don't bank on finding anybody left alive.”
Members of
Hill's unit were already preparing their infantry vehicle. Others pulled on
their body armour and equipment pouches, and they stacked spare cans of
ammunition and supplies in the back of the fighting vehicle.
Corporal Hill
pointed to the armoury. “Draw combat supplies from the armoury. Get yourselves
a vest, rifle and ammunition. One more thing, when we hit the place, you take
orders from me. I've had two hours of sleep, so don't give me any of that
higher rank detective
“Harris'
problem, not ours. If he doesn't like it, he can give us a new case.”
“Here's hoping.”
Major Harris had
his glasses on, as he skimmed through several reports and dumped them in a wire
tray. He took the glasses off when he was finished and set them down in front
of him, before leaning back in his chair. “I just got off the phone; you two
have problems. Big problems.”
Michael
exchanged a glance with Richard. “What's happened?”
“It's what
hasn't happened that should be of concern. I got the report from police up top,
and they're telling me that everything you said never happened; somebody has
cleaned the whole scene up. John Herrend is reported as missing and nobody
knows where he is.”
“What the hell?
I shot him through a door multiple times. He bled all over the floor, and we
ransacked the place looking for information. It's a dump, there's evidence
everywhere. Are you trying to tell me somebody phoned up Quick Repair, had the
bloody door replaced, and then hired cleaners to bleach the floor, tidy the
flat and dispose of the body without anybody talking? Come on, sir. It's a load
of crap,” Richard said, picking at the plaster on his finger.
“I know,” Harris
said, nodding. “But nobody else is going to believe you. Were you followed?
They'd have to be on the ball pretty quick, as you weren't up there that long,
and that's if they didn't just bribe some of the police officers.”
Michael
shrugged. “Maybe. We weren't looking. Getting tailed by corporate surveillance
wasn't exactly first on our list of thoughts, sir, but it makes sense if they
cleaned up so quickly.”
“You know,”
Richard said, leaning forward in his chair and locking his fingers together.
“John Herrend said he was an external contractor for Eratech, not a full blown
employee. It makes sense for both him and the company, because they can keep
each other at arm’s reach. He obviously knew something. Maybe they were going
to take him out themselves after we left?”
Harris nodded
again. He took a packet of cigarettes out the breast pocket of his uniform,
branded with the cross of Saint George, and inserted one into the corner of his
mouth. “Certainly a possibility. A good one, even. I sent fire teams to
investigate the addresses we managed to pull from those phone numbers. A real
pain to track down. I'm going to phone down to ops and see what they've got.”
Michael sat
rigid as he watched, waited, and felt his stomach knot, as he listened to
Harris on the phone. His heartbeat became the sole focus of his attention,
pounding away inside his chest, as sweat formed in the crevices of his palms.
He saw the major's expression become severe.
Harris's eyes
narrowed. He muttered a single word into the receiver, then hung up. “One of
the teams isn't checking in: Stark's. Go with Corporal Hill's section, and find
out what's going on down there. There's another section near Hayes, and I'll
get them to back you up, but it might be a while. Go.”
“Shit,” Richard
said.
They ran for the
lifts. A voice on the loudspeaker ordered Hill's section to the armoury.
Richard slapped at the call button again and again as if it would somehow make
the lift go faster. Finally it arrived, and he hit the button for the ground
floor.
“These people
will have cleared out by the time we get there; they'll know more of us are
coming,” Michael said. “Don't bank on finding anybody left alive.”
Members of
Hill's unit were already preparing their infantry vehicle. Others pulled on
their body armour and equipment pouches, and they stacked spare cans of
ammunition and supplies in the back of the fighting vehicle.
Corporal Hill
pointed to the armoury. “Draw combat supplies from the armoury. Get yourselves
a vest, rifle and ammunition. One more thing, when we hit the place, you take
orders from me. I've had two hours of sleep, so don't give me any of that
higher rank detective
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