‘That’s not all. I reckon he’s Samaritan 999 as well. All these identities are a front — to hide his dodgy activities.’ Adjusting the onscreen display so it showed the close-up of Sergio’s hand again, Troy said, ‘Check out his middle finger.’
Lexi squinted at the image. ‘Can’t you sharpen it up a bit?’
‘No. It’s at its limit. Any closer and all you’ll get are pixels.’
She sighed. ‘Well, there’s a slight mark. It runs round the whole finger, I think.’
‘And the skin colour’s a bit lighter.’
‘So,’ Lexi deduced, ‘he normally wears a ring — which stops the sun tanning him just there. He’s not wearing it now, though.’
‘Why not?’
‘How should I know?’ said Lexi.
‘I don’t either. But if it had sapphires in it and one of the stones dropped out …’
‘I was with you all the way there — till you started daydreaming. Are you going to claim you can tell his shoe size by looking at his hands?’
‘No. But,’ Troy said with a wry expression, ‘that sweatshirt would go really nicely with Adibok trainers.’
Lexi laughed.
‘We need Terabyte again,’ Troy said. ‘Can you talk nicely to him? Maybe he can trace where Sergio Treize really is if I keep him on a video call for long enough.’ Half an hour later, Troy settled himself in front of his computer. On his left, Terabyte was seated at a linked workstation. Lexi was on the other side. Both of them were out of range of the camera. ‘Okay?’ he asked.
‘I’m networked,’ Terabyte told him. ‘Ready when you are.’
Lexi nodded. She intended to listen for background noises and study the images for any hints of location.
‘Okay. Let’s push this boat out.’
Lexi looked across at Terabyte, raised her eyebrows and shrugged. She took the headphones from around her neck and positioned them over her head and onto her ears.
Troy soon established a connection to his main suspect. This time, Sergio was wearing a different sweatshirt. Plain and white, it matched his spectacles. From somewhere, light reflected from his smoothly shaved head.
‘Sorry to bother you again,’ Troy began. ‘I just wanted to ask if you’ve been monitoring Charon Angel, like we agreed.’
‘I don’t remember an agreement but, yes, as a favour, I’ve checked her out now and again. All perfectly innocent.’ He leaned to one side, apparently scrolling down a list. ‘Here’s an example. She was posting stuff on Wednesday to someone who’s serious about suicide. “If you go ahead, your absence will change the way things are supposed to be. It’s a shame to deny the world your contribution.” No one’s going to say that’s urging a visitor to die, are they?’
‘No. That’s … good. Helpful. I’m still worried about your site, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s a place where vulnerable people meet. Virtually meet. Maybe they don’t have the strength or the nerve or whatever you need to pull the plug alone but, when they get together, maybe they pluck up enough courage from each other.’ Troy noticed a flicker of annoyance in Sergio’s face. That suited him. ‘Why did you set the site up in the first place?’
‘To get people together so they could pluck up the courage to live.’
‘But not all of them do.’ Troy was trying to provoke Sergio enough to keep him talking — justifying his chat room — but not anger him so much that he terminated the connection. ‘Some of your visitors are exchanging how-to-die information.’
‘For a determined few, it’s the only way forward. My site eases their passage.’
‘It’s a fine line between easing and encouraging.’ His head twitched. ‘Look. I believe we all have the right to die. The law in your country is stupid. It tells you you’re responsible for your body and actions, if you’re over ten and sane. So, if you do something illegal, you get punished. Right. Got that. I’m responsible for my body and what I do with it. Surely that means, if I get really ill and nothing will fix me, I can choose to bow out with a bit of dignity when the time’s right. I can choose assisted death. After all, it’s my body, my life, my responsibility. Right? Wrong, says the law. You’re not responsible for your body any more. The law is.’
Troy was pleased to have tempted him into a lengthy passionate lecture. ‘It’s not against the law to kill yourself.’
‘No. But you can’t get anyone to help. You can’t legally take that decision. See what I’m getting at? The law’s sending out a mixed message. In your country anyway. I’m responsible for my actions until I’m desperately ill and suffering. Then I’m not responsible. Most of us get help coming into this world. Where’s the help when we choose to leave it? What’s so bad about opting for assisted dying?’
‘Because there’s always a reason for living. There’s always hope. But, even if I agreed with you, it’s still illegal.’
‘It’s different over here. I’m glad your law doesn’t apply to me. When I’m past it and life has lost its meaning, when it’s just useless existence and a drain on everyone else,’ Sergio said, ‘I’ll slip away peacefully with help and humanity.’
Out of the corner of his eye, Troy saw Terabyte fling his hair over his shoulder and mutter to himself. He then sat upright and, plainly frustrated, shook his head. Troy knew he had failed. Troy’s strategy had not worked. He said to Sergio, ‘That’s your choice, I guess. Nothing I can do about it from here. Thanks for your time.’ He ended the call.
Lexi stripped off her headphones and, along with Troy, gazed at Terabyte.
‘The signal’s pinging all over the place, from country to country, satellite to satellite. If I sat here online for a week, I’d still probably not pin it down. Very nice piece of work. All I can say is, it came here from Switzerland. Before that … Who knows?’
‘Thanks for trying.’ Troy faced his partner and asked, ‘Did you pick up anything?’
‘There was a distant scream. Not a human one. Pretty sure it was a seagull. That’s your lot.’
Troy exhaled. ‘I’m not sure that puts him near the coast. Don’t seagulls come inland quite a bit?’
‘I’ve seen a few around here,’ said Lexi, ‘but it’s asking a lot for them to reach Switzerland.’
‘This case isn’t hurtling towards a conclusion, is it?’
Lexi thought about it for a while and then said, ‘There is another way … But it won’t be much fun.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Well,’ Lexi replied, ‘he didn’t see me in either call. He doesn’t know what I look like. So …’
‘Oh, no,’ Troy muttered.
‘What?’
‘Are you thinking the same as me?’
‘No idea. But if an extremely healthy outer girl — about sixteen, all organs functioning beautifully — jumped off Hurlstone cliff, our bad guy might not be able to resist a raid.’
Troy nodded slowly. ‘Are you really volunteering to pose as a dead body? You could be trapped in a coffin for hours.’
‘The lid wouldn’t have to be nailed down — and I could be wired so I could speak to you.’
‘I’m glad you made the suggestion. I was thinking the same, but I sure wasn’t going to ask you to stay in a coffin all night in case he turns up.’
‘Lying down and keeping still doesn’t sound like a tough assignment. I’d meditate while you monitor the spy camera. You give me a wake-up call if he puts in an appearance. That’s quite important, Troy. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without a heart.’