Part 24 (1/2)
”I was contacting you because of Lagrima Jrgen,” he said. ”She's connected to a ma.s.sacre in Sahara Dome.”
”A ma.s.sacre?” Scott-Olson asked.
So Flint told her what he knew about the ma.s.sacre and about the scheme Jrgen pulled. ”I figure her death might be connected.”
”That explains it,” Scott-Olson said.
”What?” Flint asked.
”We found the ma.s.s grave beneath the spot where we found her,” Scott-Olson said. ”I was going to tell Aisha, but I never got the chance. I didn't want to do it on an open link because-”
Her voice broke, then she shook her head.
”Because?” Flint prompted.
Scott-Olson gave him a rueful smile. ”Because I didn't want the Disty to find out. I had no idea what they'd do.”
”But they did find out,” Flint said.
”Yeah.” There was a lot of regret in that word. ”Can you tell me who died in this ma.s.sacre? Maybe we can find their relatives and get this place decontaminated.”
”I can't tell you much. I just wanted to pa.s.s along this information. In fact, I was hoping you could tell me about it. My sources are pretty slim.”
”I hadn't heard anything,” Scott-Olson said, ”but then, I didn't know where to look. The bodies were mummified, and we hadn't had a chance to date them before the craziness started here.”
”I can tell you when they died,” Flint said. ”And I can research where the survivors are. I have their names from Jrgen's scam. I have to warn you, though. Most of them were in the Outlying Colonies when she found them.”
”Great,” Scott-Olson said softly. ”We're never going to find a solution to this.”
”You're closer now,” Flint said.
”Send me what information you have,” Scott-Olson said. ”I'm trapped in this building until. . . until everything slows down here. I won't have a lot to do until the first bodies get brought in. Maybe I can see what we have in the official records.”
”I'd try some unofficial records as well,” Flint said.
Scott-Olson nodded. ”It's not a coincidence that Jrgen's body was on that spot, you know.”
”I know,” Flint said. ”That means someone in Sahara Dome recognized her, knew what she did, and killed her.”
”Someone who truly hated her, I'd think,” Scott-Olson said. ”Perhaps a survivor?”
”Again, it might be easier for you to investigate that than me,” Flint said.
Scott-Olson shrugged. ”I'll do what I can. That building had been up for thirty years. Whoever killed Jrgen did so a long time ago, and might be long gone.”
”Or long dead.” Flint leaned forward and placed an elbow on his desktop, intrigued despite himself. ”If we find the killer, will that be enough to stop the Disty?”
Scott-Olson's expression grew serious. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one else seemed to be listening.
”I don't know,” she said. ”Maybe it would have if we were only dealing with Jrgen, which was bad enough. But you have no idea how crazy it is here. We're not sure what's going to happen from one minute to the next.”
”You're not in danger from the Disty, are you?” Flint asked.
She shrugged. ”There's talk among some of the senior officials that the Disty might just destroy the Domes. They won't care if humans are inside when they do it. As far as the Disty are concerned, we're contaminated too.”
Her voice shook at the end of that. She was obviously frightened, but trying to stay busy so that she couldn't think about it.
”Isn't there anything you can do?” Flint asked.
”Have you ever gone up against the Disty, Mr. Flint?”
”Yes,” he said. And it hadn't been pleasant, not any single time it happened. Mostly because the Disty were so attentive to detail that they never committed any crimes. The Disty only prosecuted them, according to their laws.
Their very vicious laws.
”Then you understand,” Scott-Olson said. ”If I survive the next week, I'll consider myself lucky.”
Flint nodded. He was about to sign off when Scott-Olson leaned even closer to her camera and lowered her voice.
”Do you have any idea why the Disty killed Aisha? They seemed to be cooperating with her when she left Mars.”
”She was killed in the office of a Disappearance Service,” he said, leaving out the fact that he had recommended she go there.
”Oh,” Scott-Olson said. Her cheeks flushed. ”I do understand. If I could, I'd hire one right now.”
Flint wondered about the wisdom of saying that on a government channel. His side was secure, but he doubted hers was.
”Surely you don't mean that,” he said, trying to cover for her.
She smiled, obviously understanding what he was doing. ”It's all right, Mr. Flint. The Disty aren't listening, and even if they were, they wouldn't care. Right now, we're trapped here as effectively as if the Disty had designed it. They've taken all the trains, stolen aircars, and jammed the exits from the Dome. Even the port is overrun. There's no leaving Sahara Dome, even if I were courageous enough to wander out of this building.”
”The port's jammed?” Flint asked.
”The Disty are trying to get out,” Scott-Olson said, ”but no one's working s.p.a.ce traffic. It's a mess.”
”Trying to go where?” he asked.
”I a.s.sume they're going to their home world.” Scott-Olson shrugged again. ”But I haven't been in a position to ask.”
”Contact with a contaminated Disty creates other contaminated Disty, is that right?” Flint asked.
”Technically, as far as the Disty are concerned, any contamination can be pa.s.sed on. Apparently, breathing the air of this Dome is enough. Any human from here could contaminate any Disty. It's ugly.”
”And humans to humans as well?” Flint asked.
Her gaze met his. She was obviously quite sharp. ”Only if the Disty know about it. One should always make sure they can't.”