‘Yeah. I wonder what Samaritan 999 means by “alternative”. If your heart’s clapped out, that’s it. You need a new one. A few herbs won’t fix it.’
Troy agreed. ‘I think Samaritan 999’s trying to be subtle, nudging her towards the black market in new hearts. That’s definitely alternative. And she could afford it all right.’ He turned back to the screen. ‘Where did they go afterwards?’
Wily Fox: Breathless and tired today. Nothing from the hospital.
Samaritan 999: What are you actually waiting for?
Wily Fox: A heart. I mean a real heart. I’m not talking about courage. Though courage would be good as well.
Samaritan 999: A transplant?
Wily Fox: Yes. Apparently I’ve exhausted all other treatments.
Samaritan 999: Maybe I can help. My friends in the alternative medicine business have a transplant clinic. It’s not free, though.
Wily Fox: Money’s not a problem. I just want a normal life.
Take a Break: Be careful, Wily Fox. There are some dodgy doctors out there.
Wily Fox: But I don’t have long if nothing’s done. Desperate situations call for desperate measures. I’ll try anything.
Samaritan 999: If you send me your email, I can fix you up.
[Next entry deleted for a breach of security rules: email address detected.]
Troy sat back in his chair. ‘Now that’s a cat let out of the bag. I think we can assume Olga got in touch and used her cash to jump the queue. She had a transplant in some rogue clinic. Things went horribly wrong and she got an outer’s heart. Then this underground organization tried to cover it up by burying the evidence, knowing she was a loner. They reckoned no one would come looking for her.’
Lexi nodded. ‘Can’t fault the logic. And it reminds me of Dmitri Backhouse arranging things through a chat room.’
‘I’d like to meet Samaritan 999 and Charon Angel. One trawls for lonely people that no one will miss and the other stalks possible suicides online. Maybe they’re the same person.’
‘Huh. Don’t forget Charon Angel — that’s Sharon Angie — came across as perfectly innocent in her last message.’
Troy hesitated before replying. ‘Don’t you forget Sergio Treize could have told her a detective’s prowling around. Maybe that’s why she changed.’
‘But if you live in Switzerland, you can’t murder people in Shepford. And that’s that.’
Lexi’s life-logger vibrated with news from Olga Wylie’s house. The forensic examination was continuing but the team had found evidence of the intruder. A single faint impression in the flower bed at the side of the house matched Unknown Shoeprint 1 left by the burial site in the wood. Size 12, trainer-type, with Adibok’s logo incorporated into the design of the tread. She looked up at Troy and asked, ‘How many women — outer or major — do you know who wear size twelve shoes? That’s 29.6 cm from toe to heel.’
Troy shrugged. ‘Probably none.’
‘Okay. It’s almost certainly a man. He’s been near where the bodies were buried and now he’s been poking around Olga Wylie’s house.’ She paused before adding, ‘Time I went back to the wood.’
SCENE 17
The log cabin in the wood seemed to be deserted. ‘Huw!’ Lexi shouted loudly. ‘Hello?’
No reply. Just the sound of birds calling.
‘Not here,’ Troy said. ‘Which doesn’t mean a lot on its own, but …’
‘What?’
‘Everything’s exactly the same as it was on Tuesday,’ Troy observed.
The large axe and fishing rod were still propped against the cabin wall and most of Huw’s woodworking tools were still laid out on the table.
Lexi glanced around. ‘Now you mention it …’
‘That’s a spanner thrown in the works. If he’s gone, is he another victim or a suspect we’ve scared off?’
‘He’s a suspect if he’s got size twelve feet. A very strong one. That’s why I’m here. To find out.’ Staring at the ground, Lexi took a deep breath. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ She pointed her life-logger at a clear impression of a left boot outside the cabin door and then said, ‘Small feet. Size eight. And a match with Unknown Shoeprint 2. The one with a bit of rubber chipped off.’ She sighed. ‘All that proves is he wanders around the wood. But he could be an accomplice. He helped out here with the bodies but didn’t go to Olga’s.’
‘Possible,’ Troy replied. ‘But I saw him as a loner, a free spirit, not partnering anyone.’
‘More likely a victim, then.’
‘For his sake, I hope he’s neither. Maybe he just didn’t like the intrusion. You and me asking questions and a forensic team trampling over what he’d see as his territory. Maybe he’s just upped and off. I don’t suppose it takes him long to plan a move. Not a lot to pack.’ Troy took his life-logger in his hand and said, ‘I’ll still get a team to go through the wood, looking for fresh digging.’
‘Talking of people on the move, I’ll get someone to find out if Olga bought any travel tickets just before 25th March. No doubt we’d be interested in where she went.’
Walking back towards the car parked in the narrow lane, Troy said, ‘It’s sad, isn’t it? We — the people — shouldn’t need laws at all. We shouldn’t have to be told it’s bad to be nasty to each other. It should be pretty obvious.’
‘I suppose.’
‘You’d think us humans would know what’s right and what’s wrong. Especially majors.’
‘Why especially majors?’ Lexi asked with a frown.
‘We’ve got an inbuilt brake on behaviour — our religious code.’
‘You don’t need a god to be nice to each other,’ Lexi objected. ‘Everyone’s got moral instinct. Outers included. We all know killing and removing someone’s organs is a bad thing to do. Anyway,’ she added, clearly offended, ‘even with all that religion, majors do horrible things.’
Troy nodded. ‘What do you think would happen if we got rid of you and me — the law — tomorrow?’
Shrugging, Lexi said, ‘All countries have laws. That tells me everywhere goes crazy without them.’
‘That’s what I mean. It’s really sad.’
‘I guess ninety-nine per cent of people would still be nice to each other.’
‘That leaves one per cent who’d turn us into a lawless mess. One per cent too many.’
Reaching the car, its door unlocked for Lexi. ‘Let’s ignore the one per cent right now,’ she said, ‘and just concentrate on one person. Our bad guy.’
Settling inside, both of their mobiles began to ring at the same time. The caller was the same as well. Terabyte.
‘Hi,’ Lexi said. ‘How did you …?’
‘I’m a genius with phones as well. Anyway, I wanted to speak to both of you. I got hold of The Solitude Network supervisor. After Samaritan 999’s last chat with Wily Fox, he was banned from the site. He kept asking for contact details of people who didn’t want a date. Three strikes and you’re out, apparently. A waste of time if you ask me. He could log in from a different device under a different username.’
Eagerly, Troy asked, ‘Did you get any info on him — or her?’
‘Admin weren’t as protective as they usually are — maybe because he’d been a bad boy and got booted off. Anyway, he ticked the bloke box, registered with an email that he abandoned straight after, and gave a false name and address. That’s another breach of the site’s rules.’
‘Not much help, then,’ said Troy.
‘Did you follow up any of the visitors he’d tried to meet? Meet in reality, I mean, not virtual get-togethers,’ Lexi said. ‘Because if he succeeded, they could be victims as well. And we’ve got at least one more casualty — L4G#4 — an outer whose heart ended up in a major.’