Page 47 of Because I Killed Him
The body lies face-up, covered in puncture marks. Shredded skin hangs from the limbs like peeling bark; deeper wounds expose the glistening pink nerves of the face. I recognize the short, blonde kiss curls, matted thickly with green blood.Jane.
I spin away from her dead body, cupping my mouth.
Charlotte’s chest heaves.“That lying bastard,”she texts me.“Edmund said he sent the Pinkie.”
Maybe he did. Given the stakes, I doubt he’d break his side of the bargain. I crouch and peer underneath the rows of seats. There, between the ninth and tenth rows, I spot Dickie’s Pinkie sprawled across the carpet. The robot’s face and chest cavity are smashed in, wires sparking as if it’s been trampled by a stampede of feet.
I alert Dickie to the situation, and he hops over the barrier to retrieve the robot’s data storage chip.
“Halt,” calls the primary on the scene, a Copper in black ribbed coveralls. “This carriage is off-limits to civilians.”
The primary strides toward us with an imposing frown that makes Dickie puff out his chest. Dickie removes his glove, baring his squirrel-like teeth, and flicks out his hand.
“I’ve got a problem,” he says. “Unless you want me to turn that badge of yours into toilet paper, you’d betterfixit.”
The primary arches an eyebrow at the blue band on Dickie’s Blood Ring, looking as confused as I am. He scans the Blood Ring with a portable device, and when Dickie’s information appears on the screen, his confusion turns to fear, the kind I thought only Blues had the power to create.
The primary offers a slight bow. “Forgive me, Mr. Langley. I was notaware to whom I was speaking. How may I assist you?”
“You can start by explaining what the devil is going on in here?”
“We are still working to establish the details, sir.” The primary lifts his face shield. “Two narcotic dogs were brought in to inspect the carriage for Bliss. The animals became agitated when the energy shield was struck and attacked. One student was killed, and two others were injured before we arrived.”
“And my Pinkie?” Dickie presses. “Did the dogs damage it, too?”
“No, sir. The damage occurred as the students fled the attack. The carriage is not equipped with surveillance cameras, so we attempted to salvage the humanoid’s data storage chip, but it was destroyed.”
What the hell is he talking about?
“Excuse me, sir—arethosenot surveillance cameras?” I point to the row of devices mounted on the ceiling.
“No, miss,” the primary replies. “They are oxycleaners.”
My heart drops so low I feel it in my guts. If the devices are air purifiers, the green first-year carriage is a surveillance-free zone. The Blues established them all over the Civilized World to encourage us to snitch. Reporting uncivilized behavior might not earn you many friends, but for every successful report, you get fifty civil credits.
“For the time being, my team will need to keep your humanoid,” the primary tells Dickie. “I will return it to you personally once we have released the scene. The incident is not being investigated as a homicide, so you may expect it back as early as this evening.”
“Nota homicide?” I say. “How is that possible when there is Irasbis Gas all over the carriage?”
The primary’s eyebrows flatten into a hard gray line. “Irasbis Gas, miss? We have found no such evidence.”
“Not even after testing Miss Bradford’s body?”
“No.”
That’s impossible. If there’s no trace of Irasbis Gas, why would the dogs single her out in a packed carriage? I gesture to my dress. “Test me, sir. We believe the Copper stationed in this carriage doused my seat with it. That is why I was forced to take refuge in the blue first-year carriage.”
“As you wish, miss.”
The primary retrieves a forensic sampling device with a frustrated twitch in his step. His confusion appears genuine, and he shows no signs of Bliss withdrawal, which makes me doubt he’s working with the Copper who killed Jane. He probably thinks we’re wasting his time.
A moment later, the primary returns with a spectrometer for molecular analysis. As he sweeps the device over my dress, the holographic interface displays a list of detected samples: velvet, tobacco ash, sweat, skin cells, and hair fibers.
But no Irasbis Gas.
“What the devil?” Dickie plants his hands on his hips. “The broad had it on her dress for the past hour. I smelled it myself.”
“I do not doubt your claim, Mr. Langley.” The primary hands the spectrometer to an assistant. “Irasbis Gas is designed for covert operations. Once activated by body heat and moisture, the microcapsules break down the gas, causing it to disintegrate within a set timeframe.”
