Synthetica Page 15

  “I'm sorry, Anais, but surely you must know that I can't allow you to speak to suspect before he's been officially questioned?”

  “Please,” Anais pleaded. “He's my only chance to save my friend.”

  Officer Hughes looked torn. She glanced around her, but everyone else in the reception had gone back to staring into space as they used their RetComs, now that all the excitement was over.

  “I'm not sure Anais. It's a lot to ask,” she looked troubled for a moment. “What's wrong with your friend?”

  “Oh,” Anais realised she couldn't tell her the truth without getting Marcus, Dalla and herself into massive trouble. “She's...got a brain condition. Marcus knows all about it – he's her ex-boyfriend.”

  She crossed her fingers behind her back as Officer Hughes looked at her suspiciously.

  “And this has absolutely nothing to do with the homicide he's been accused of?”

  “Nope,” Anais said blithely. When Officer Hughes continued to look at her, she carried on. “Please - the medics say she doesn't have a lot of time left. Marcus is my only chance to save her.”

  Tears sprang unwanted to Anais' eyes, as she pleaded with Officer Hughes. Even though it was just a cover so she could to get to Marcus and find out as much as she could about the SLP he'd bought, it brought home to her that she might already be too late to save Dalla. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She saw Officer Hughes clock the blood on her hands, and the smashed self-service screen.

  “Alright,” Officer Hughes said in a low voice. “I can give you five minutes with him, that's all. But you're not allowed to ask him anything about the homicide. Got it?”

  Anais nodded, feeling immensely relieved.

  “You can stay here,” Officer Hughes told Xander. “It's going to be hard enough to get her in, without getting you in too.”

  Anais turned to him.

  “Wait for me,” she said and Xander nodded. She followed Officer Hughes through the double doors they'd passed through the first time she'd been in the station. Now that it was daytime she could hear snatches of conversations coming from the other side of the grey doors they passed. Many of the small screens outside the doors were now lit up, displaying information about the suspects inside. Officer Hughes led the way down the corridor, past the room where Anais was questioned, and turned a corner.

  There were less rooms down this corridor, but each door was now guarded by two matte black securi-bots, the blue lines across their otherwise blank faces constantly scanning the hallway for movement. Officer Hughes stopped outside the third door on the left. The two securi-bots outside the door held up their arms, stopping Officer Hughes from getting any closer to the door.

  The robot's sensors bathed Officer Hughes in a blue light as they confirmed her identity. Once they'd done a sweep of her, their blue light turned to Anais who shielded her eyes from the glare of their sensors. Their sensors turned red as they completed their sweep of her.

  “Access denied,” the two securi-bots spoke in unison, in flat voices.

  “Override. Permission granted by Officer Hughes,” Officer Hughes said firmly.

  The securi-bots processed this command and lowered their arms so Officer Hughes could open the door. Hughes looked up and down the corridor before beckoning Anais closer.

  “I can only guarantee you a few minutes,” she said in a low voice. “They're already begin to break up the mob outside and once that's been sorted, they're going to want to question your friend ASAP. We're going to go in, ask him whatever it is you need to know about this medical condition, and then come straight back out.”

  “Okay,” Anais said. Officer Hughes took one final look at her, as though she still couldn't quite believe what she was doing, before sighing and opening the door.

  Anais stepped into a room not unlike the one she'd been held in herself. The only difference was, there was only one chair in the centre of the floor and Marcus was handcuffed to it by his hands and his feet. His head was bowed, his distinctive hair flopping over his face. His shoulders heaved and, with a pang of pity, Anais realised Marcus was crying.

  “Marcus?” she said cautiously.

  Marcus raised his head to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot, his face shiny and puffy from the amount of crying he'd been doing.

  “Anais?” Marcus' voice was hoarse, although Anais thought she could detect a hint of hope in it.

  “You look terrible,” was the first thing she could think to say, and she immediately wanted to kick herself for it. Marcus gave something that sounded like half a laugh and half a sob.

  “Marcus, I don't have a lot of time,” Anais said, throwing a sideways look at Officer Hughes as she drew closer to him. “But this is important. I need to know what happened today.”

  Marcus' red-rimmed eyes focused on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Officer Hughes standing by the door, listening for any movement outside the room.

  “You have to get me out of here,” he whispered. “I didn't do it. I swear...”

  “Marcus,” Anais said more urgently, leaning closer so Officer Hughes wouldn't hear. “I need you to tell me what you remember.”

  Marcus was silent. For one horrible moment, Anais thought he was going to refuse to talk and her whole trip had been wasted.

  “I don't remember,” Marcus said, no longer looking at Anais. His voice so quiet and cracked that she could barely hear him. “I – I faked being ill so I could go home from work early. I was nearly home and then – and then everything...just – just went...black -”

  He gave another dry sob. Anais hesitated before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Anais could just see Officer Hughes turning towards them, her eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. After a few seconds he managed to compose himself.

  “When I came to, I was standing over this man's body. There was blood everywhere, and when I looked down, I was – I was holding a - a gun -” his voice broke down into sobs and Anais patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

  “So, you don't remember anything else?” Anais said. Her mind was beginning to buzz, but she was still struggling to put everything she knew together.

  “No,” Marcus sniffed hard. “Everything went black and then....the next thing I know I'm standing there with a corpse in front of me.”

  “Anais,” Officer Hughes' voice cut sharply through the air. “I explicitly told you not to ask him about to do with the homicide. That's enough. We're going.”

  She made to move towards Anais, but Marcus raised his head, his bleary eyes focused solely on Anais. He didn't appear to notice Officer Hughes placing a firm hand on Anais' arm.

  “You have to believe me. I'd never kill anyone. You know me, Anais, please - you have to help me.”

  Anais resisted the sharp tug on her arm. Her eyes took in Marcus' rumpled clothes that were still smeared with dirt and blood. There were bloody fingerprints all over his jeans, and spots of red on his navy shirt. She could almost see Grayson standing in front of her, his yellow eyes dull and blank as he repeatedly smashed a brick into Pearson's skull. She blinked, and Marcus' pitiful form reappeared.

  There was one more thing she needed to find out, to prove whether or not her theory was correct. Officer Hughes was still pulling on her arm.

  “Please,” Anais said, turning to the policewoman. “I'm almost done, I swear. It's got everything to do with my friend, I promise.”

  Officer Hughes' jaw was set. She did not look happy. But, perhaps deciding that they'd already gone too far, she gave Anais a tiny nod and released her, though she still hovered over the both of them.

  “I believe you,” Anais said firmly to Marcus. “Marcus, there's one more thing I need to know. Your SLP, the one you bought from Denzel, does it still work? Can you still remember the information you downloade
d?”

  Marcus frowned, but his look quickly turned to one of confusion as he tried to recall the language he'd supposedly learnt.

  “N – no. I – I can't remember any Spanish at all.”

  He stared at Anais, horrified.

  “What's going on?” he whispered.

  “I think I know why you can't remember anything,” Anais said grimly. “Whatever it was on that program, it wasn't just an SLP you downloaded. Whatever it is, it messes with your brain so you can't remember anything.”

  Both Marcus and Officer Hughes were looking at her was though she was crazy. With an unpleasant lurch in her stomach she remembered that Officer Hughes didn't know about the SLPs.

  “How do you know that?” he asked. Anais closed her eyes, composing herself.

  “Dalla,” she said simply, opening her eyes. “The day after we saw you, Dalla went and bought one of those SLPs. But something's gone wrong. She's in the hospital now, but that stupid program did something to her brain...and now they don't know if she'll ever wake up.”

  Anais' heart ached at the thought.

  “I'm so sorry,” Marcus sounded stricken. “I didn't know – I thought they were safe -”

  “It's not your fault,” Anais said turning back to him. “You didn't know this would happen. Listen – I might be able to help you, but we've got to act fast. Do you think Denzel would tell me who else has bought an SLP from him?”

  “Not unless you can pay him.”

  Anais half expected his answer and she sighed.

  “Well, that can't be helped. So long as he talks, that's all I need,” she said.

  Officer Hughes, who had been watching this exchange in fascination, held up her hands.

  “Anais, what on earth are you talking about? What's all this about the SLPs? They're not due to be released until Saturday.”

  Before Anais could confess, Marcus spoke.

  “But – you will still help me, right? If you can talk to Denzel, you'll try and get me out of here, won't you?” His eyes were locked onto avidly onto Anais, his face a full of pitiful hope. Anais wasn't even sure if he'd even registered Officer Hughes' presence. Anais exchanged a helpless look with Hughes, who addressed Marcus for the first time.

  “Marcus, you've been arrested for murder. At the very best, all you can hope for is manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. But you'll have a hard time proving that without evidence.”

  It was the words she didn't say that hung unspoken in the air between them all. If Marcus couldn't prove it was the SLP that had forced him to act, then he was as good as dead. The death penalty applied to everyone accused of murder, regardless of age or circumstance. Marcus was a dead man walking.

  Still Marcus didn't seem to fully acknowledge that Hughes was there; whether through exhaustion, or because he was pinning all his hopes on Anais, Anais couldn't say. Instead, he continued to look up at Anais, his expression broken. Anais wasn't even sure if he'd even heard what Hughes had said.

  “Marcus,” she said more gently. “I can go and talk to Denzel. I can try and find out as much as I can about these SLPs, but there's no guarantee I can help you. You have to understand that.”

  She hadn't meant her words to come out so harshly, but equally, she couldn't see the point in lying to him.

  Marcus looked crestfallen, but he managed a tiny nod.

  “I understand,” he whispered.

  His eyes seemed to mist over.

  “Anais, that's enough,” Officer Hughes said. There was a squawk of static that seemed to be coming from Hughes. She lifted her arm up, and Anais could see a tiny black transmitter wrapped around her wrist. Voices began to speak from the device, and although the volume was too low for Anais to hear, the hint of urgency in Hughes' voice as she glanced at the door was unmistakable. “We should go, now.”

  But Anais was still staring at Marcus. He was twitching his head, as though there was an itch he wanted to scratch, but couldn't while his hands were tied. And then the thought hit her like a train.

  Dalla. Dalla's chip was infected and she was dying. Grayson was dead. So was the first murderer, whatever his name was. That was the link. The SLPs not only erased themselves, they also forced whoever had downloaded them to commit terrible crimes. How had she not seen it before?

  Horrified, she spun back round.

  “Marcus, let me see your ID chip,” she said urgently. Marcus raised his head, strands of straggly yellow hair covering most of his face.

  “Why?” he asked, but then he yelped as Anais, not bothering to wait for permission, brushed his hair out of the way of his right ear.

  It was immediately obvious why he'd cried out. The skin below his ear was inflamed, the shape of his ID chip obvious as it bulged out from under his skin. Ugly red and purple veins snaked away from the area, carrying the infection with them. The chip was black, almost as if it had fried itself. How Marcus hadn't felt something wrong, Anais would never know.

  She dropped his hair back into place, backing away from him, horror and fear rising in her throat.

  “What?” Marcus said frantically. “What is it?”

  Anais' voice seemed to have deserted her. She whipped round to Officer Hughes.

  “Help,” she managed to choke out. “He needs help, now!”

  She grabbed Officer Hughes' sleeve and dragged her over to Marcus before she could protest. “Look!”

  Gingerly she brushed back his hair again, so Hughes could see the damage. Anais looked up and saw the other woman looking queasy and faintly repulsed.

  “But – but how? What's wrong with him?” Hughes said faintly.

  “Listen,” Anais began to speak hurriedly. She could've sworn she heard muffled noises outside in the corridor – doors slamming, robotic and human voices, and footsteps running towards them. “Marcus bought a counterfeit SLP. So did my friend, Dalla. Now Dalla is in hospital and this exact same thing happened to her. If you don't get him to the hospital right now, he's going to die. You need to check the bodies of the other two murderers and see if their ID chips look like this. If they do, that means they bought black market SLPs too. This is why they've been murdering people – it's the SLPs, they're not SLPs at all. Something or someone is manipulating them into murdering people.”

  Officer Hughes gaped at Anais as she spoke.

  “But – how did you -”

  “Because I was there when Dalla got sick,” Anais said. “Marcus told me he bought an SLP and I was with Dalla when she did the same. I'm telling you, he's seriously ill – that's why the other murderers died at the scene of the crime. Their ID chips, or their brains, went funny.”

  “Anais -” Officer Hughes' worried voice stopped short as she glanced down at Marcus. Anais looked at him too, and her blood ran cold.

  His eyes were rolling in his head. Blood and spit and the same milky liquid was beginning to dribble out of his mouth as he convulsed in the chair. A horrible, gargling noise was coming from his throat as his airway began to seize up.

  Officer Hughes began shouting into the tiny transmitter on her wrist, calling for back-up as she tried to disabled the handcuffs that were keeping him to the chair. The noises Anais had heard outside suddenly became more pronounced as three human officers skidded into the cell, followed by two securi-bots. The policemen took one look at Marcus and ripped off the handcuffs that Hughes had just disabled. They lowered him to the floor, where he thrashed around until two of the officer managed to grab hold of his flailing limbs.

  Anais was frozen in absolute horror. All she could see was Dalla on the floor, blood running out of her mouth as she shuddered and jerked. She could hear herself as she screamed for her dad to help. A low moan escaped her lips, and Officer Hughes' attention was brought back to her.

  “Anais,” she sa
id, reaching out to her. “It's ok -”

  But Anais took a step away. She blinked, and the commotion in the room came back into sharp clarity.

  “Oh no,” she whispered, as Marcus continued to choke on his own blood. “No, no, no.”

  “Anais, please, come with me. You're going to be fine,” Officer Hughes was advancing towards her, but with a jolt, Anais realised something. She'd told them about the counterfeit SLPs. She told them her suspicions about the murderers. There was no way they were going to let her go this time.

  With one last agonising look at Marcus, silently pleading with him to forgive her, Anais turned and fled.

  She heard the shouts behind her, and the hum of the securi-bots, but Anais didn't look back. She flew down the corridor and round the corner, hearing the automated voices of the securi-bots as they ordered her to stop above the shouts and the pounding of feet.

  She burst through the doors that led into the reception area. Xander was on his feet as soon as he saw her, but his question died on his lips as she grabbed his arm, screaming at him to run. They had almost reached the entrance, Anais could feel a breath of fresh air wafting through the doors, when a crashing blow to her knees brought her to the ground. She landed hard on her back, gasping for air. Above her, curiously, Nox's face swam into view, his expression triumphant. How odd, she thought as though she was somehow detached from the whole situation, I must be imagining things.

  “Not so fast, Miss Finch,” he gloated. “Where do you think you're going?”

  But Anais wasn't paying attention. She was close enough to the outside now that power had been restored to her RetCom. The message icon had begun to blink in her vision, and even before she opened it, somehow she knew what it would say.

  Xander's frantic voice seemed to be coming from a very long way away. Out of the corner of her vision she could see several black securi-bots advancing on her, their sirens wailing as their sensors flashed red. Officer Hughes was shouting at them, trying to get them to stand down. But it was as though this was all happening in another life, to another person, as a fog began to descend on Anais' brain.