The Last Case

Chapter 2

The briefing room was on the tenth floor in a big open bullpen area surrounded by stadium seating. The entire back wall was a screen where case information was displayed. There were no windows, and the whole place was insulated against any and all signals. There were white noise generators and other surveillance counter measures to keep the bad guys and other curious parties from tapping the room. When Greyson and I walked in, the briefing had already started.

“…what we know,” said Nouvelle. She was standing just off to the side of the large screen behind a narrow metal lectern. She was wearing a form fitting leather coat with a high buttoned collar, black leather gloves, and a pair of straight slacks. Her hair was done up in a tight bun and she had two long sticks holding it all together. She looked severe and authoritative, completely serious, and was surveying the room like an officious school administrator trying to make sure no one was chewing gum in the classroom. Her left hand was up and out and she was typing on the holo keyboard. Images were appearing behind her on the screen as she spoke.

“At precisely seven twelve this morning, the nanny android,”

I whispered “nandroid” to Greyson, and he slapped me on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“…designated Lucy by her owners, was attacked. This is the video of what the android recorded before her systems were shut down.”

On the screen the picture showed a long street in front of a tall metallic pole fence. The fence was topped with pointed spikes and the bottom was set into old fashioned brick. The school was recognizable, as it was the only private school in Hale that was built with an old world feel. The kid went to St. Marcos Oliver Preparatory. It was easy to see that an assumption could be made about the family’s wealth. Any kid that goes to St. Marcos came from money. The picture began to move, and audio came to life from unseen speakers positioned around the room.

The characteristic buzzing of the autonav tracks was in the background. Vehicles whipping by at eighty miles per hour, bumper to bumper, controlled by computer to ensure that there aren’t any variations or pauses. Above that, the sounds of the feeder road, slower vehicles coming in for a landing, starting and stopping, doors opening and closing as the kids are dropped off to school. The camera moves in a slight up and down walking motion. The nandroid looks down at the kid. He’s small. I forget that about kids that age. They’re so small. Dark skin; coffee colored brown. Brown eyes. He’s got a thick wavy black mohawk, about three inches tall, with lines cut into the shaven sides. There are at least four other kids that we can see nearby with the same hairdo. I just don’t understand that. He’s wearing a neat powder blue shirt with a round ring collar and internal buttons on the front, or maybe a fly front. He’s got a little brown woven belt on, dark gray pants and brown slip on shoes. He’s wearing a tightly strapped thin backpack, perfect for holding a slate pad notebook. I can see the glimmer on his wrist that looks like an uplink. At first I think that an uplink for a kid is too expensive, but then I remember who his father is.

For a second I think I hear something, and then suddenly there is a scream. The camera view crackles and the picture becomes completely distorted. Wavy lines of all kinds of colors fill the screen and continue to distort until everything suddenly snaps black. Nouvelle starts to speak again.

“The boy’s name is Rahul, son of Manish and Venkata Arke. He’s six years old. Three feet and five inches tall. Forty seven pounds. He’s been missing for seven hours. Witness reported seeing three men escorting the boy into a black transport vehicle with no visible identifying marks. Surveillance cameras in the school, the street lights, and the outside of the bank across the street went dark at five past seven. They all went at the same time and didn’t come back on until ten minutes after the kid was gone. What that means is that we are dealing with only eyewitnesses and no cameras. It also means that these guys are professionals.”