"Yes. They couldn't compress a complete human imprint below something much larger—well, the micro you used to map the burrows today. That's as small as it can be done without a severe loss of information. Didn't the industry began experimenting using remote auxiliary processors to hold the mass of the imprint and through it direct the bio?"
"Yeah. Bio Week and AI Times both had pieces. It was a big deal for about ten minutes.” Shad's pacing became a bit more frenzied. “To a man in a bug POV suit, it was supposed to seem as though he's crawling or buzzing around with everything on board, but the imprint really wouldn't be in the bug."
I leaned forward, my headache temporarily forgotten. “But they never got it working."
"No. Something to do with neural equivalency failure and remote transmission fidelity. Too much of the first and too little of the second.” He stopped pacing and faced me. “After it was dropped, Fantronics used the research they'd done to come up with a prototype master/slave unit that was put into trials to see if it would be effective and safe for implanting images for use in mental health treatment."
"I don't remember that."
"You wouldn't unless you'd been in one of the trials.” He held up a wing to preempt my next question. “They had gotten a portable imprinter down to the size of a Kaiser roll and were lining up amdroids under psychiatric care for clinical trials. After my wife dumped me, I was seeing someone because of a little depression I was going through. Anyway, before the trials even got started, the wheels came off the program and it was dropped. Then Fantronics unleashed an army of media molders to assure everyone in the world that there never had been any program, and if there had been a program, Fantronics didn't have anything to do with it, and if they did have something to do with it, no serious lasting effects had been suffered."
"Big law suits?"
Shad whistled and held his wingtips far apart. “Law firms were beating the law schools for recruits. See, what the Fantronics lab came up with was a brand new compact way to take perfectly sane individuals and turn them stark barking bonkers.” He lowered his wings. “If they could do that with a human, why not with a horse?"
"Rather sophisticated, but that might be our murder weapon.” I drummed my fingertips on the arm of my chair. “For what possible reason? The success of Houndtor Down Hunts has been an enormous free advert for the corporation's fantasy amdroid lines. Killing Miles Bowman with a Fantronics amdroid horse—"
"—could destroy the corporation,” Shad completed. “Disgruntled employee? Someone connected with the cancelled project?"
"Fund my project or I'll take everyone in Fantronics down with me."
"It could get us a trip to London, Jaggs. I love the parks there."
"It's a little early for vacationing.” I pointed at my partner. “Get on the net and see how Fantronics's stock is doing."
After a few moments of tail twitching, Shad looked at me. “No real changes: between three-ninety and four hundred a share, the same as it's been since the general market increase this past January. No layoffs at Fantronics. They're hiring.” He paused for a moment. “Want to supervise a recreational program for used bios that've been engram-scrubbed? Some housebreaking training involved, no experience necessary, bring your own mop."
"I have another commitment."
Shad whistled. “Want to know the starting salary?"
"It would only discourage me.” I took a sip of tea and put my cup down on the coffee table. On the telly Claude Rains was shocked, shocked to find out there's gambling going on in Casablanca. I picked up the remote and paused the flick. “We're not getting anywhere with motive. Let's focus on means."
"Okay.” With a flap and a hop, Shad was back on the end table. He took a slurp of his tea, sat down, and said, “We know the ability exists to remotely implant images that can trigger off a homicidal nightmare, and it's pretty clear something like that was done to Champion when the horse killed Bowman and when he tried to kill us.” Shad looked at me. “And?"
"If we can find out where the image implant device was located when it triggered Champion in his stall, we might find a trail that we could follow to our killer. I haven't looked at your burrow map. Any of those burrows come near the stables?"
"No burrows. Just a conduit carrying vid feeds to the studio wing. No access into the pipe. The actual fox burrows are pretty much limited to Old Bones Village, extending south and southwest from the ruins coming up at various places on Houndtor Down, Holwell Lawn, and Hedge Down on the other side of the road to Manaton. They have remote camera hookups throughout the whole area so they can continually vary the route of the chase. Only the burrows in the village are dirt and rock. The long ones that come up in the chase areas are forty-centimeter-diameter plastic pipe. Archie's hair is in the Old Bones Village burrows and throughout the pipes that come up in the chase areas.
"If Houndtor Down Hunts put in all that pipe, the plans should be on file with the Dartmoor National Park Authority. There has to be a way to get at Champion's stall. When you have a minute, Shad, access the plans on file with the authority and see how they compare with your map."
"Will do. Something to think about though, Jaggs.” Shad glanced at Val, noted she was sleeping, and said in a lower volume, “That horse is still a dangerous weapon. How's your head? Personally, I'm not eager to donate any more feathers."
"Point taken.” I looked at Val. Often when she looked asleep she was only relaxing. Then a thought came to mind that chased away all caution. “What about us, Shad?"
"Us?"
"We both have bio receivers. If our killer has the means to make horse amdroids crazy, what about us?"
He looked down and slowly shook his head. “The prototype made humans crazy. That's why the program was dumped. I think we have to assume whoever made Champion crazy can do the same for us, and will do it if we get in their way."
"Even killers have to sleep sometime,” interrupted Val as she yawned and stretched her front legs.
"I apologize for keeping you up, dear,” I said. “We'll be done in a minute."
The duck jumped from the end table to the floor and waddled over to Val's end of the settee. “I believe Val was suggesting that right now might be an opportune time to sneak into the stable wing to take a peek."
"Smart bird,” she responded as she rose, arched her back in a global stretch, turned around twice, and settled back into the same exact position.
She was probably right, too. Unless the killer had accomplices, there was no way to stand guard on everything all of the time. I stood, petted Val's head and ran my hand down her back. “Thank you, dear. Don't wait up."
"I never do,” she said with her eyes closed. “Harry?"
"Yes, dear?"
She looked at me. “It's good to see you after a killer again.” She glanced at Shad then back at me. “Both of you, take care."
On the way from Exeter, Shad accessed the plans filed with the park authority, and the underground piping Quartermain used for long-distance burrows matched exactly the map Shad had generated, including a strange little cave near Old Bones Village Shad had mentioned. The burrow Quartermain had used to exit from Bones’ chamber led to the cave, but, although there were cracks in the upper part of the chamber, allowing a little light and more than a few bats to enter, Shad hadn't found any exit large enough for a fox. Judging by the number of bat wings he had found without bats between them, Shad concluded the cave was one of the places where the Quartermains dined.