“This gets a little complicated, but bear with me. The man I killed was a member of Interpol, yet he was using his authority as such for the benefit of a secret society to which he belonged. His name was Elijah Vashlov. I have confirmed that he was on staff at Interpol HQ as an intelligence regulator. Intel regulators are responsible for sifting through the fractured intelligence relating to crimes that cross between the jurisdiction of multiple governments and/or admedistrations, and help negotiate information-sharing protocols.”
“Which is why he showed up both in Japan and in Baghdad.”
“That’s right. The secret society for which he worked is called the Next-Gen Human Behavior Monitoring Group. This group was launched soon after the Maelstrom ended and consists of top people in the admedistrations, medical industrial collectives, the upper echelon of WHO, and a handful of independent scientists. I was unable to obtain more information than this from Vashlov. According to the information I did obtain, this group’s primary objective is to prevent global chaos like the Maelstrom from ever happening again. Toward this end, they had enlisted the help of neuromedical researchers.”
“Can you explain this research?”
“They’re looking into the connection between human will and human action. I’m no expert on the subject, so that’s about as far as I got.”
“And then you killed the man who gave you this information?”
“My father was also killed. By Vashlov,” I replied, straining to keep my anger in check.
“That’s right. I hear he took a bullet for you. Can you explain why you went to meet with your father?”
“Because I had heard he was part of the Next-Gen group. My father is a famous scientist, the one who first postulated the basic theory that made WatchMe and medcare a possibility. It seemed not at all unlikely that such a group would call for his services.”
“Yet that doesn’t make sense. If everything you have told us is true, that would mean that this Vashlov fellow killed your father even though they were part of the same group.”
I thought for a moment. Two people were dead. One of them by my hand. There was only so far I could take this without revealing something. I needed to figure out how few of my cards I could show and how far I could get away with some harmless lies in order for Stauffenberg to be satisfied.
“Within this group, there are two factions, each with different ideologies. Vashlov identified himself as a heretic within the group. I can only speculate that he was referring to this internal conflict.”
“And now that your father and this Vashlov are both dead, there is nothing remaining to prove the existence of this conspiracy.”
No, that wasn’t true. Vashlov had told me that the SEC Neuromedical Research Consortium was merely a public front for the Next-Gen group.
“There is one other known collaborator by the name of Gabrielle Étaín.”
“Who is dead. Murdered. Three hours ago.”
“What?” I gasped.
Stauffenberg was staring me down. “It was a random killing, as random as any of the killings in the world have been these last few days. It happened in broad daylight, in a corridor of the Dian Cécht complex in Baghdad. With all the scientists, who tend to be more levelheaded than the average mob, there have been fewer killings and group suicides in Baghdad—but there have been some exceptions. Within Dian Cécht alone, there have already been fourteen untimely deaths, both murders and suicides in just the last two days. Already, the casework is far beyond what security and the Baghdad police can handle.”
“We could investigate the SEC?”
“We will. Though with such a vital source as Gabrielle gone, I have my doubts as to how far such an investigation would take us—where are you now, by the way?”
“In a PassengerBird. Upper deck.”
“To where?”
“Chechnya.”
“Why Chechnya? Another loose thread?”
“I can’t say.”
This was it. I could show no more of my hand. What I needed was a convenient lie.
“Vashlov told me that there were members of his group within the Helix Inspection Agency. I don’t know which superiors you report to, ma’am, but I think that the chances of them being sympathizers are high.”
This was my big bluff. Vashlov had said nothing of the sort. Although now that I thought about it, it did seem like an idea with some merit.
“Given a choice, I’d prefer not to telegraph our every move to our opponent.”
“You mean your every move. With Cian Reikado’s death, and now your father’s, this case has become quite personal for you, hasn’t it. It doesn’t bode well, Inspector Kirie.”
“And yet, I have made more progress than any other agent.”
Stauffenberg stared me in the eye. I couldn’t read anything in her expression. Maybe she was trying to read me. Or maybe she was just trying to accept reality. After five seconds of silence, Prime asked for everyone else to leave the session. One by one, the other Helix agents logged off, scratching their heads as they went. I was alone with Stauffenberg. She took a deep breath and said, “All right. I’ll be honest. It’s me.”
I had no idea what she was talking about.
“I’m an upper-rank member in the Next-Gen Human Behavior Monitoring Group.”
I laughed out loud, both at my bluff having hit the mark so well, and at the ridiculousness of my current situation.
“So you were following me the whole time?”
“Yes. Both sides of our group have been watching you. We had given you mostly free reign in hopes that you would contact Miach Mihie’s group or they you in the course of your investigation.”
“So it wasn’t the Tuareg card after all.”
“You were allowed to continue operating for the sole purpose of tracking down Miach Mihie’s whereabouts. You’re not the first Helix agent to disgrace herself in the field, and your past behavior certainly wouldn’t have bought you any of your current relative freedom.”
So the Next-Gen group wanted Miach, and Miach’s sect wanted Nuada, and both sides had been using me to get what they wanted.
“Both of you needed to track down the leader of the other group, which made me very valuable as the daughter of one and the friend of the other.”
“It just happens that you and we are after the same person. We were cooperating—as unintentional as it may have been.”
“It certainly does seem that way.”
“I’m sorry about your father, truly.”
Judging from the look on Stauffenberg’s face, she was telling the truth. It wasn’t hard to picture my father as a respected leader of his group. There was an ironic gap between that and my memory of him getting chewed out by that woman in the morality session all those years ago.
“Miach Mihie still possesses a limited ability to control feedback mechanisms within the brains of the constituencies of several admedistrations. She’s gone into hiding. What they have been doing is manipulating the feedback mechanism within the midbrain to instill a desire for death, causing people to kill themselves. We wanted to use you to get into contact with her so we could find out what her goals were in causing this current chaos, and attempt to stop her. You see, we have absolutely no idea what she’s up to.”
Had it only been me and Cian, and probably my father, who knew about Miach’s dark past? All those curses we dreamed up to cast on the world, huddled together at our desks on those dreary school days. Wasn’t Miach still carrying the hatred she had held in her heart back then? Wasn’t she just using her newfound power to put her fantasies into action—her power to make mincemeat of the society she so despised?
If that was true, then the current situation was an extremely private one for us, and now that Cian and my father were gone, I was the only one capable of understanding it.
There was a point to slowly releasing the shackles of our social system as she was doing, to using an abject fear of others to undo the little fetters around each of us one at a time—and I was the only one who got it.