Dan felt ensnarled in a web of uncertainties. Police detectives used this line of thinking. So did prosecutors, judges, and juries. Suddenly, he was all of them rolled up in one. And he hated it.
“Orders are he is to be sent Earthside,” said Lorraine. “Even for a minor slip.”
“I know, I know,” snapped Dan. The problem was what to do in the meantime. “Get Freddy in here. And have him bring duct tape.”
O’Donnell mumbled and moaned but did not break through into consciousness as Dan and Freddy bound his wrists and ankles with the duct tape. When they finished, Lorraine carefully fit a padded helmet onto O’Donnell’s head. Dan and Freddy then maneuvered O’Donnell into the command module and tethered him to a handgrip outside Dan’s office door. Lorraine closed herself into the infirmary to prepare a report.
“I need my comm link back,” Dan said to Freddy. “Then stretch duct tape across Weiss’s compartment, O’Donnell’s compartment, and his lab. I don’t want anyone tampering with anything inside.”
It took Freddy less than two minutes inside the utilities section to reestablish a link with ground control. Then he flew off to follow the rest of Dan’s instructions. Meanwhile, Dan called Tom Henderson.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” said Henderson.
“Maybe I’m just damn lucky,” Dan said sarcastically. He recognized Quigley and the other consultants milling behind Henderson. “I have a question for you, Tom. It isn’t necessarily related to the murder. Okay? What’s Hugh O’Donnell’s business up here?”
“He’s a Trikon scientist.”
“Trikon may have sent him, but Trikon business isn’t what he seems to be about,” said Dan. “Unless Trikon’s working with drugs.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“What about them?” said Dan, indicating the group behind Henderson.
“They don’t know, either,” said Henderson. “What the hell, you got a Trikon honcho on board. Ask him.”
“I will,” said Dan. “I have someone in custody who I believe may be Aaron Weiss’s murderer.”
“O’Donnell?”
“I said the question about O’Donnell wasn’t related.”
“Who is it?” said Henderson.
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“What?!” Quigley’s face appeared beside Henderson’s. “You’re not going to tell us? With all due respect, Commander Tighe, a murder in an orbiting facility is a complicated matter.”
“Damned right it is.”
“There are all types of considerations: political, international, diplomatic, not to mention legal and ethical.”
“I know all that, goddammit! That’s exactly why I’m not telling you.”
“But the implications—”
“Look, Bigley or Quigley or whatever the hell your name is. The victim is an American, the suspect is an American, the death occurred in the American lab module, and the body was hidden in an American scientific-supply canister. It’s an American problem, okay?”
Quigley’s jaw hung slack.
“I want to talk to Tom,” said Dan.
The lawyer’s face slid from the screen.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Dan,” said Henderson.
“I wish you’d stop saying that to me. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m doing what I think is best for this station.” Dan hoped no one overheard him. Admitting that he was treed could be a station commander’s fatal mistake. “And that includes safeguarding all personnel, allowing them to continue with their work, and preserving evidence for the proper authorities. In that order. Now when can you get someone up here?”
“Days,” said Henderson. “One aerospace plane is in for overhaul. The others are committed to a series of suborbital flights. That leaves Constellation.”
“What about Trikon’s retainer contract with NASA?”
“That only covers resupply emergencies. I could ask ESA about Hermes, but they’ve only had one orbital flight with the little bugger so far. I don’t think we ought to risk a rendezvous with the station, even if the French would okay the mission. Besides, it would take weeks for them to make up their minds.” Henderson spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
“Okay. Then here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell everyone on board that the investigation is over. They can go back to work. Did you announce Weiss’s death yet?”
“Not yet. We haven’t had time.”
“Good. Don’t mention it was murder. We’ll let the investigators handle that whenever they get here. Meanwhile, I’m going to continue the blackout of all comm channels. You’ll probably get complaints about that.”
“We’ll handle them,” said Henderson. “What about your suspect?”
“I’ll keep him segregated until your boys get here.”
Freddy Aviles could hear angry voices erupting from the rumpus room as he flew down the connecting tunnel. He didn’t know how long Tighe would talk to ground control and it was obvious that the scientists were on the verge of mutiny, despite Bianco’s assurances. He had to work quickly.
His first stop was O’Donnell’s compartment. Before entering, he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. He had searched the compartment on a few occasions and knew exactly how O’Donnell arranged his meager belongings. His movements were swift and sure. The search uncovered nothing that could even be adapted into drug paraphernalia. He latched the accordion door and stretched two strands of duct tape in a giant X across the frame.
Weiss’s compartment, located a few doors down, took slightly longer to search. Time prevented Freddy from rifling all the storage compartments, so he concentrated on the laptop computer attached to the fold-away desk. He copied the entire contents of the hard disk onto a floppy. He would sort through the files later.
Freddy zoomed into The Bakery. He knew the exact nature of the work O’Donnell had been conducting in the tiny lab, and until this morning he had no reason to inspect the project for himself. It was now essential that he get inside. Bracing himself with one arm, he pressed his ear against the padlock and turned the four number circles. One by one, he heard the tumblers click into place. The lock sprang open.
Under perfect circumstances, Freddy would have taken samples from each of the vials that lined one wall. He would have taken clippings from each of the plants. Conditions were far less than perfect. He booted up O’Donnell’s laptop and frantically scrolled through the directory. O’Donnell had created many files on the hard disk. Since few ran more than one or two kilobytes in length, Freddy assumed that each contained the structure of a different genetically engineered microbe.
Freddy inserted a floppy into the disk drive and copied all of O’Donnell’s data. Then he crashed the system. No one else would ever see what O’Donnell had been doing.
3 SEPTEMBER 1998
TRIKON STATION
NEW DRUG APPEARS IN EUROPE BUT NO ONE REMEMBERS USING IT
London (Reuters)—Health officials and clinics in several large European cities have reported that a powerful new hallucinogen is gaining popularity among the avant-garde elements of the European drug culture. The new drug is called Lethe, after the mythological river whose waters induced amnesia. Not surprisingly, one of the side effects of the drug is loss of memory.
Little is known about the drug because few people seeking treatment have any recollection of ingesting it. Blood analyses of people exhibiting the symptoms of giddiness, depressed inhibitions, and memory loss suggest that it may have a methamphetamine base.