The Cyberkink Sideshow by Ophidia Cox Page B

seen any evidence of anything illicit going on there. What have you got on him?”
    Pikesley held up a sealed plastic bag with the corner between finger and thumb, as though he feared its contents might give him a disease. “Circular barbell, double zero gauge, unusual design, internal threading, of the sort worn in a Prince Albert piercing. It has your DNA all over it, Mr. Maynard, and it was found at the crime scene.”
    The bag landed in the center of the table with a light tap that seemed at odds with the physical bulk of the thing. Inside the plastic Sylvia recognized the thick sickle curve, deep burgundy gold at one end and merging through rainbow hues to rich indigo at the other.
    “I’ve been speaking to forensics. Their boss down there says this thing’s a piece of highly specialized work. It’s made from something called anodized titanium, which I’m reliably informed, is extremely hard and difficult to work into jewelry of this sort. You’ll see on the underside here is a manufacturer’s mark. Forensics tracked down its providence and I just telephoned the maker. She was able to tell me it was a custom job commissioned by a client five years ago. She only ever made the one, and it’s absolutely bona fide unique.”
    “I know it’s unique,” said Victor, his voice strained. “Considering it’s unique and traceable, don’t you think it would be rather stupid of me to leave it somewhere it would incriminate me for something, ignoring your opinions for the moment on whether or not I’m guilty?”
    “What crime scene?” said Sylvia. “What’s going on?”
    “Baxter and Simmons dug up a whole stash of memory banks with all manner of banned software on them in the boot of a car at the garden festival. Mind imprints, terrorist memes, bomb-building instructions. That was in there with it.”
    “It can’t have been,” Sylvia countered. “I was with him the whole time.”
    “You were with him, doing what exactly?” Pikesley looked at Sylvia in a penetrating way.
    “Investigating the Sideshow undercover for any evidence of illegal activities, like you told me, sir,” she replied calmly. “If that’s the only one of its kind, he was wearing it up until about three thirty this afternoon and it went missing some time after that.”
    Victor interrupted. “Somebody stole it.”
    “Stole it?” Pikesley demanded. “Who’d want to steal that ? Baxter, when did you and Simmons find those banks?”
    “It was nearly four o’clock, sir.” Baxter’s fingers fidgeted on the table in front of him.
    “Are you sure ?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Pikesley snapped his head round to face Sylvia. “Price, are you sure it’s the same one?” He pointed to the evidence bag on the table.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “You’re sure ?” Pikesley’s mouth was a stern line, his eyes filled with threat.
    “I’m adamant,” said Sylvia. “That’s the one I saw, and it went missing at three thirty this afternoon”
    Pikesley scowled and slammed his fist on the table. “Interview terminated seventeen fifty-five. You two, take Maynard downstairs.” He glared at Victor. “I want your mug shot and fingerprints and scent signature then you’re free to go. But don’t think this is the end of this matter!” Pikesley bundled the sheaf of papers into the folded card file on the table in front of him and kicked back his chair and turned to the door. “Price, I want to speak to you, privately.”
    Sylvia made eye contact with Victor briefly as she followed Pikesley and Baxter, and Simmons led him to the stairs. His face was inscrutable.
    Pikesley slammed the door to his office once Sylvia was inside. “What d’you think you’re playing at?”
    Sylvia looked at him as though he was mad. “I’m doing my job, sir?”
    He hurled the file to his desk, where it landed, scattering its contents and sending the photograph of Pikesley’s wife and kids crashing into the wall. “Don’t be disingenuous! We would have had it nailed on