Part 8 (2/2)

'I know I'm new here,' he said, switching the chair off in disgust, 'but does this sort of thing happen on a regular basis, or am I just privileged?'

Forrester remembered the times when Ras.h.i.+d had supported her, despite the innumerable rules and regulations of Adjudicator life. The times when Forrester had shot first and asked questions afterwards, used the mind probe a bit too freely or arrested innocent citizens by mistake. The sorts of thing that any eager young Adjudicator did.

'I've never known Ras.h.i.+d to back down under pressure,' she said finally, shaking her head in disbelief 'She's always supported her people before. G.o.ddess, this one must be really important.'

Cwej nodded. 'I've had a thought,' he said. 'If the mind probe record has been faked, then the old bird we pulled in is innocent.'

'The old bird?' Forrester had the impression that a blush was spreading beneath the golden pelt.

'The lady. The underdweller.'

'Hah! We'll make an opinionated, bigoted Adjudicator of you yet!' He just looked at her, and smiled slightly. She found herself smiling back. 'So, how do you work out that she's innocent, then?'

'It stands to reason. If somebody wants us to believe that she's guilty, she must be innocent.'

'Philosophically flawed . . .

'. . . But street-true.'

She raised her eyebrows at him. That kid was getting to be a smart-a.r.s.e.

'So what are we saying?' she said. 'That every one of these spur-of-the-moment murders is actually an a.s.sa.s.sination in disguise, covered up by the Order of Adjudicators?'

He shook his head uncertainly. The way the light caught his golden fur distracted her momentarily. 'No,' he said. 'Too many people involved for that.

For some reason, it's just this murder. Just this one murder.'

'So why was the low-life b.u.mped off?' she challenged.

Cwej leaned forward insistently. 'To prevent us questioning her any further.

Somewhere inside her underdweller skull, she knew who drugged her and who carried out the murder. She saw them. The chances are we could have dug a clue out of her mind. With her dead, and the mind probe record faked, we were supposed to accept the whole thing, fins, fuselage and retro-tubes.'

'But you spotted that the record was faked . . . '

His gaze was sombre. 'Yeah, and got us thrown off the case.'

Forrester pounded the desk again. 'It's so d.a.m.ned unfair!'56.

Cwej winced. 'Unfair?'

Something in his tone made her look up. 'You think it's more than that?'

'Think about it,' he said. 'Doesn't it strike you as a little bit suspicious that somebody tries to sell us a set-up and then, when we look like penetrating their little game, they pull us off the case?'

Forrester felt a tiny cold bud begin to flower in her gut. 'Paranoia,' she said dismissively, but even she could tell that she was unconvinced.

'Is it?' he asked. 'When we brought the body in, I asked for a tissue-type check to be run.'

'Tissue-type?' She tried to read his fresh, innocent face for clues, but it was like reading a blank sheet of paper. 'But the bot said that the mollusc was unidentified. No biochip.'

Cwej grinned.

'Wrong murderer . . . ' he said.

'. . . And wrong victim,' Forrester finished. She felt a sudden desire to forget everything, to get up and walk over to the refectory raft and have a couple of beers with the guys.

No, she thought. That's not the way Martle would have played it.

'Let's check,' she said. 'The results might be in by now.'

Cwej grinned.

It only took a few moments for Cwej to link with centcomp and type in the query. Forrester watched impatiently as he ran his finger down a list of information that only he could see.

'We're in luck,' he breathed. 'The tests are complete.'

'And?' Forrester didn't know why she was holding her breath, but she was.

'And we've got an ID for the victim.'

'How can you do that without a biochip?'

'He had a biochip.' Cwej quickly scanned through the information. 'The genetic code matches one Waiting For Justice And Dreaming Of Home. Record as long as your arm and most of your leg as well. Mainly petty thievery, a.s.sault and begging.'

'Address?'

'The Undertown. That's all it says.'

Forrester looked grim. 'That's all there is,' she said. 'You should have learned that by now. Question is, why did the bot tell us that the victim didn't have a biochip when he did?'

Cwej's face was serious. 'Because the bot didn't bother checking. Because the bot wasn't expecting the victim to have a biochip. Because the bot got the wrong offworlder.'

'What do you mean, ”got”?' Forrester asked.

'What do you think.”57.

'You can't mean . . . ?'

'That the bot killed the offworlder thinking it was another offworlder?' His face was set. 'Yes, I do.'

'Well,' she said, leaning back in her chair and sighing, 'I guess they all look the same. So, we've got a murderer who isn't a murderer and a victim who isn't a victim. What else can go wrong?'

'You've forgotten one thing.'

'Oh yeah? What's that?'

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