When an unknown substance on a public sundial is thought to be evidence of foul play, Detective Wyatt Kask is called in by the police to help determine the nature of the crime. Over the course of the night, Kask and the Sheriff of Wellington are pul...
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Fearson's building was a twisted ribbon of glass on the edge of the city. It brightened from black to blue in the dawn twilight. Hakihea landed their copter on a platform at Fearson's floor, but the opposite side from his suite. They debarked and entered the floor's lobby.
"I must say, I didn't expect this approach from you, Detective," Hakihea commented. The lobby and hallway were lined with stainless steel tiles and inlaid with bright mosaics of Mesozoic Era plants. "You claim your method is to gather facts only, and now we find ourselves on a wild tangent based on your intuition."
Kask took his fedora off as they walked down the hall. "Intuition is not mysticism. It is the perception of unarticulated facts whose relations have been approximately calculated by the subconscious. So I have a reasonable hypothesis. And we're about to test it." Kask stopped in front of a door. Hakihea nodded, and Kask pressed the door-chime.
Less than a minute later, Fearson opened the door. "Oh! Hello again. What can I do for you?" He still wore his lab coat.
"May we come in? We'd like to ask you a few questions. It won't take but a minute or two," Kask said.
"Sure! Come on in!" Fearson smiled and held the door open. His apartment was clean and largely devoid of personal affects.
"Sorry to bother you at this odd time," Kask said, "but we're very close to closing our case, and we just need to finish it. We think you could help us clear up a couple muddled bits." A picture window in the back showed a clear view of Wellington Harbour. In front of the window was a bar with various tea leaf containers and coffee mugs. In front of the bar were some lounging chairs, and a coffee table and closet door to the left.
Fearson sat on a stool behind the bar. "Happy to help. Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?"
Kask shook his head. "I have reason to believe that a Helping Hand mole was working on your team."
"Ah, well I suppose it's possible. There were several in Organics Division. Big scandal. Come to think of it, there was a gentleman recently dismissed from my team by the higher-ups, but I never looked into the reason. Personnel issues are not something I pay much attention to."
"I'm sure you paid attention to this fellow. Doctor Meyer is his real name. After all, you did use his invention to commit a crime."
Fearson whitened. "I beg your pardon?"
"Relax, Doctor Fearson, there's no need to pretend," Kask said. "We know you used his control system and a Helping Hand drone to destroy the bio-bot."
Fearson laughed. "Where did you get such an absurd idea? What game are you playing?" He continued to smile but added a frown. "If I'm going to be subjected to such nonsense, I'll need a coffee." He said this as he punched a sequence of buttons on a coffee maker.
With the push of the start button, something came crashing through the closet door--a split-second glimpse of a humanoid form of reflective plastic and dark rubber.
