Vitals by Greg Bear Page A

breakfast.
    I looked through the barred window onto a sunny stone plaza. It was dotted with courthouse workers on break, sitting cross-legged or with arms slung back on benches, reading newspapers and drinking Starbucks. Transients napped in rough but civic comfort on a miniscule triangle of lawn. The view through that window, minus the bars, was a postcard of peace and justice, if not equality, for all.
    Detective Finn came back first and began with a little catchup. "The Kitsap County Coroner just ruled Dave Press's death an accident. He drowned. Head injuries occurred postmortem."
    Keeper entered with a can of Diet Pepsi and shoved it at me. No sugar, just caffeine to ramp up jitters. I had no idea what that meant: a little grilling, just between friends?
    "Dr. Mauritz shot and killed his wife before he joined you on the Sea Messenger."
    "I didn't know that," I said.
    "We found her last night," Finn said. "The shipboard murders are a federal problem, but this one's in our jurisdiction, and the FBI is giving us the reins. The questions keep piling up."
    Keeper took a seat and hunched forward like a gargoyle in a Hag gar suit.
    "Murder on a ship full of scientists doesn't make sense,"
    Finn continued. "You were nowhere near the Sea Messenger when Mauritz started shooting. But do you have any idea why Press jumped overboard?"
    "He was acting strange throughout most of the dive," I said.
    "What sort of strange?"
    "Trying to swear. Erratic behavior. Finally, he got violent."
    "Some sort of rapture of the deep? Both of you, maybe?"
    "Just him. I don't know about rapture. I don't think so."
    Finn paced. "Some of the crew claimed they were poisoned and that explains their irrational behavior. Were you poisoned?"
    "Not that I'm aware of."
    "Is that a definite no?"
    "I felt fine. I got mad at Press when he started acting weird, fought him off when he tried to sink the sub ... but that's all."
    "You hit him?"
    "He was landing the blows." I pointed to the bandage on my temple. "I brought the DSV back to the surface after he conked out. I was scared out of my wits, but I felt fine. Really."
    Finn kept staring. He rotated his hand, go on.
    "Anyway, Press was unconscious or in a funk. I thought he could be dead, but he seemed to recover once we surfaced. Then he--"
    "What did he say to you, Dr. Cousins?"
    I thought back. "He asked if Owen Montoya had ever phoned me. He seemed to think it was significant."
    "Did Montoya talk to him, maybe tell him something before the ship left port?"
    "I doubt it. What difference would it make?"
    Finn smiled and tilted his head. "Montoya's assistant said you exchanged angry words with Dr. Mauritz. You deny that?"
    "Yes." "Nobody else saw you talk with Mauritz until the second day of the voyage. Was that conversation friendly?"
    "We said hello."
    "What do you know about a man named AY3000?" Finn lifted a page on his small stack. "That apparently is his legal name."
    "He changed it from Jack Scholl," I said. "He comes to conferences on nanotechnology and longevity research."
    "Why did he change his name?"
    "A stunt. Philosophy, I guess. AY stands for Apollo Year 3000, dating from the first moon landing, approximating his hoped-for life span."
    "I see," Finn said.
    AY suffered from prostate cancer and had not looked good the last time I saw him. Still, he kept his hopes high.
    "Nanotechnology ... that's the little bitty stuff, electronics and such, isn't it?" Finn asked.
    "Yes."
    "Sci-fi bull," Keeper said with a superior smile.
    "Was AY3000 an investor in your research?"
    "AY has a little money. He was a small investor, until last year. I guess I wasn't moving fast enough. He found someone more convincing." I looked at Finn through a short silence, then added, "He's a gentle, intelligent old man."
    "Mr. Montoya is also an investor?"
    "He was."
    "This AY3000 made threatening phone calls to a number of colleagues, including Dr. Mauritz, starting early last week. But he never left San Francisco. Is he still