A Ghost of Justice (6 page)

13

The
warm shower brought her slowly alert.  Drying off, Emily wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out to get some clothes.  She was greeted by her father's wide yawn. "Did you sleep all right?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess.  I don't remember much."

"Yeah.  You nearly fell asleep at check-in."

Emily made a face at him.  She picked up her clothes and started back to the bathroom.

Eric held up a hand.  "I need to go in there.  You can dress out here."

Twenty minutes later they were standing out front looking about for a breakfast place.  They finally settled on a deli nearby.  Choosing was easy.  The other restaurants they could see were closed, most for good.

The meal went quietly, the food rather good.  Emily figured they were both busy inside their own heads, wondering what today would bring.

A part of her was the anger.  She guessed it always would be.  A part was frightened.  Sure, Darlene Jacobs had said Hardy wasn't the most dangerous of types.  Sure, his profile indicated he likely might run from danger.  But maybe the assumptions were wrong.  Records may show not a single EOR had been killed by a fugitive, but some
had
been hurt.  And there was always that first time.  And he
had
killed.

Then there was that other part of her, the one that frightened her about herself: the eagerness, thrilled with the prospect of this hunt.  Not a hunt of an animal.  She and her brother shared an abhorrence of hurting animals.  But humans were different, especially one that needed to be hunted and knew he was hunted.  That
made
the difference.  That made this strange side of her exhilarated.

She had touched this side of her personality before.  A tip of it always surfaced whenever she felt near to a discovery.  She never dreamt it capable of such depth of feeling, hadn't known it could go in this direction.  This must be what her father meant.  She resolved not to discuss it with him.  Better to not worry him more.  She also resolved to keep this maverick inside herself under control.

Back in their room, Eric called home.  It was short and to the point.

Hanging up, he said, "Bless that Andrea.  Bob gave me a fine sister-in-law when he married her."

Emily looked up questioningly.

"He said she had found a place for Anthony to stay so we can use the house when we get back.  She thinks of everything.  He said she was even going to prepare a room where we can put Hardy should we bring him back instead of killing him right away."

"Why the hell should we do that?"

"Who knows what's ever going to happen in any given event."  Eric shrugged.  "I don't expect to keep him alive.  Do you?"

"You know how I feel."

"Yeah.  Andrea is just being thorough, as usual."  Eric glanced around the room, noticed she had already packed everything.  "Ready?"

Emily nodded.

Driving into Philly-proper they discovered that signs for stops, yields, street names and other important information, were all but non-existent.  The paint denoting lanes was nearly as rare.  Twice they almost collided with some cursing local and had to stop for directions once, even with the GPS.  Traffic was worse here than anywhere they'd been, except, maybe, southeast Asia or India.  Police Administration turned out to be in an old building made of twin circular wings connected by an inward-curving center.

Parking was another matter.  Eric finally found a spot four blocks away.

A light, cold rain started as they got out.  Emily retrieved the umbrella from the back seat and opened it.

Looking around as they walked, she got impressions of gray sky, gray and brown buildings, and gray- and black-cloaked people.  Not-too-harsh nasal accents assaulted her ears from open shops and street vendors.  And, softer, often sounding embarrassed, pleas in a variety of accents from ragged people along the sidewalks.

And the cold.  Eric had warned her, and she had dressed warmly, but three months in the Egyptian sun had acclimated her for dry heat, not wet cold.  She pulled her heavy jacket tighter, shivered, and wished she had a scarf.

Inside the police building she saw it was even older than it looked, with several repairs in progress.  The desk sergeant directed them down the corridor to their left.  The room turned out to be at the end of the long hall, inside one of the circular wings.  Beyond the door it proved to be another of those old-style cavernous areas divided by little cubicles.

A uniformed woman officer walking by noticed them and offered to help.

"Um, yes," Eric said.  "The desk sergeant said the Interstate Coordination Officer was here."

"Yeah," she said, pointing down an aisle.  "Baker.  He's in cube sixteen-eleven."  She resumed her errand, hollering out as she left, "Two to see you, Cory!"

They headed down the green-carpeted aisle in the indicated direction.  Coming to number sixteen-eleven, they found Cory Baker waiting for them at his cube.  "There you are," he said.  He was a large man with an engaging smile.  "What can I do for you?"

"Officer Baker.  I am Eric Sheafer and this is my daughter, Emily," Eric said as they sat down.  "We are from Greensboro, NC, and are here after the man who killed my son and his wife.  He is a Vigilante Fugitive named John Hardy.  I am the EOR.  I'm sure you can find him in the data base.  The case was closed March 5
th
this year, and he was released on the 9
th
under the State Utilization Provisions Act."

"And how is it he managed to come all the way up here without you catching him?"

Emily saw the muscles in her father's face tighten.  She heard the trace of bitterness in his answer.

"Because we were out of the country when it happened?"

"When what happened?"

"Everything.  The murders, the trial and conviction.  The day he was released we had only heard about the whole damned thing."

Baker noted the irritation.  "Why is that?" he asked with a trace of concern.

"We, my daughter and I, were at the Alexander Project outside of Siwah, Egypt.  We're archeologists.”

"Go on."

"Our satellite coms and radios were hacked up.  Either the batteries, solar storms or civil disruptions.  I don't know.  But we finally got word on the ninth.  We returned by the next suborbiter only to learn on Saturday morning that he had been released Friday night.  We spent the rest of the weekend learning it was all in accordance with the law, and what our duties were under that law.  The county Sheriff’s Department told us he may have been spotted here.  So we drove up yesterday.  Now we need more detailed information."

Baker was nodding while Eric finished.  Swiveling in his chair, he said, "I understand completely.  Let me check PeopleWatch."  He touched a small square on his desk and the screen for his holographic n-puter popped up, scrambled on their side so that only he could see it.

"PeopleWatch?"

"Yes," Baker explained as he worked the holo keypad.  "The national network that takes in data and reports of missing persons." 

Emily remembered a news story several years ago.  "Oh, yeah.  I didn't know it was used for cases like this."

Baker smiled.  "It's excellent for these situations: runaways, fugitives, kidnapped persons.  That sort of thing."

Eric said, "I don't remember anything about that."

"You were too busy lecturing and getting published when it came out," she said.

"Oh."  He was quiet for a moment while Baker worked his search.  Then he pulled his cuff back and looked at his watch band with the built-in PerDatum.  "I wonder if this thing can hook in to it."

"Sure.  It's a public site."

"Here we go," Baker said with a modest air of triumph.  Then, subdued, "Oh.  Sorry.  It's not your guy.  A bunch of punks thought it was, so they deleted him."

Emily saw her father's hand clench.  He muttered something she couldn't hear.

Baker continued.  “We've got some of 'em locked up on a charge of second degree.  Can't kill someone for who you think he is."

"They told us that in Greensboro," Eric snapped.  "Is there anything else in that report for us?"

Baker stared at Eric over the holo for a second, then back at the display.  "Well, we have two possibilities.  One in D.C. and one in Tennessee, ah…Knoxville.  I'd try D.C. if I were you.  Not just because it's closer.  Hardy is supposed to have grown up in Richmond.  I doubt he'd run somewhere he didn't know.  But I doubt he would run home, either."

Eric sighed heavily.

Emily said, "We've only just started, Dad.  We can't really expect to get him this easy."

"Yeah," he said gloomily.  Standing, he said to Baker, "Thank you.  You've probably saved us a lot of time."

"Nothing to it.  Just my job.  I wish I could have told you the punks got your guy.  You seem like a decent man, Mr. Sheafer.  I hope you can stay that way."

The rain was falling steady when they stepped out, harder than when they arrived.  Eric glanced at Emily's short jacket.  "Here," he said, handing her the umbrella.  Before she could respond, he pulled his coat up to cover most of his head and started walking.

"Wait a minute," she shouted.  Running to catch up, she didn't open the umbrella until she was next to him.

Cold rain dripped off her hair and down her back, some of it on the inside under her jacket.  She shivered.  Grabbing her father's arm, she held the umbrella over them both.

"I was fine.  This thing's not big enough to cover the both of us.  You're gonna get soaked.  Don't you have anything like an overcoat?"

"No," Emily admitted.  "I never wanted one.  They're heavy and make me look dumpy."

"Oh?"  He looked down at her legs.  She knew he was judging how slender they were.  "How?"

"They just do.  Never mind.  Let's just get to the car.  This wind is freezing," she added as their portable shelter was tugged by a stiff breeze which blew the rain in on them.  Looking around, she saw the vendors had closed their storefronts against the storm.  And the sidewalk beggars had vanished.  Only one diehard was still shouting about his terrific hotdogs from under his awning.

When they reached the Volvo, she darted out from under the umbrella and around to the left side, digging the keys out of her pocket.  "My turn," she declared and punched the unlock button.

For a fleeting moment Emily saw her father smile.  Then, as he looked down and opened the door, his face re-clouded.

She felt the pain, too.  It was a constant presence riding just under the surface.

14

The
rain stayed with them until Emily left the Interstate at Silver Springs.

"Why here?"

"'Cause it's after one and I'm hungry and it's as good as any exit."

Eric said, "Oh," and went back into the silence he'd maintained for essentially the entire drive down.

Up ahead she saw an H&F.  Plain old cafeteria fare sounded good right then.  She didn't ask her father's preference; she just turned in when they got there.

To her relief, as they were going down the line, he selected a balanced meal.  Maybe he was coming out of whatever darker mood Philadelphia had put him in.

"What hotel did you make reservations for?" Emily asked as they sat down.

"I didn't."

"Which one are we going to try first, then?"

"None."  Eric picked up a fork.

"Ah…Dad, we left the tents in Africa.  So where are we staying?"

"Wally's.  Oh, sorry.  Dr. Luptman's."

"I know I should know who that is," she said as the name did sound familiar.  "But I can't remember."

Eric had taken a bite, but he mumbled an answer anyway.  "Ol' fren'."

Emily thought while he chewed.  It came to her.  "Yeah.  Dr. Walter T. Luptman.  Of the Smithsonian.  Should've known.  Why didn't you know somebody we could stay with in Philly?"

"Don't anymore.  Used to, but one's dead and the other is now in Colorado.  I'll remember that if we end up out there."

"Right."  Emily realized they were actually both enjoying the meal.  First time since…  She forced the thought to remain unfinished.

Her father continued between bites.  "I'll call him before we leave here.  He should be in his office now.  Then I want to do some looking."

"We ought to call the police, too."

"Humpf!  Lotta good that did in Philadelphia."

Eric's tone surprised her.  "I think it was helpful.  It
did
save us a lot of time.  You said so yourself."

He scowled at her, eating in silence.

Emily quietly endured the sullenness as he slowly chewed, alternately looking at her and at his plate.  She kept staring at him, not saying a word, not touching her own food.

Finally he put his fork down.  "Damn.  That's the same thing your mother would do.  Maybe you do have a little of her in you."

Emily maintained her silence.

"But she never carried it this far.  All right.  I'll call the police.  We're supposed to anyway."

Emily smiled, but kept staring.

Eric's face softened.  "Yeah," he relented.  "It really did help."

Eric activated his PerDatum device when they were back in the car.  A quick call to Luptman set up their sleeping arrangements.  And he made the call to the Capital Police.  Unable to get a live person, he conversed with a sim-officer on the Interstate Squad.  The sim had little news for him, but took his information with artificial avidness.  Eric added the number for Dr. Luptman's home to the data he gave the e-cop.  All he got in turn was a pair of poor detail reports of another D.C. sighting of Hardy and one more in Tennessee.

After disconnecting, he said, "How do you be
on
a squad if you don't really exist?"

"High-level AI, Dad.  The e-cop can be programmed to do any sort of task on the net, just by asking.  Any ideas where we're going?"

Eric grunted.  "A hunch," he declared.  "That's all.  Not much of one, but all I've got right now."  He keyed the engine and the electric turbine whined to life.

Without prompting, he explained.  "I think he might try to blend in with a crowd most of the time.  Since cash made its comeback, he might even try to pick pockets to support himself.  By now, even in this cold, there’s bound to be enough tourists to do that.  Especially the foreign ones with lots of money."

"Makes sense.  A lot of petty crime going around."

The drizzle had finally given up, but the gray skies made the Capital dreary, particularly among the stately gray and brown of Pennsylvania Avenue.  The clean gleaming look of the White House was the only visual relief.

Small knots of people stood across the Avenue, holding signs urging the administration to 'Secede from Wall Street,' and 'Hang the Bankers.'  Other signs pleaded, '
Please
TAX The Rich,' and 'Feed Our Babies Before Congress Gets Raises.'  One sign was very different from the others, reading, 'Repeal Amendment 57, Reverse Citizens United, End The One-Party Tyranny And Free The Voters - the 2POTAI.'

Emily wondered briefly at these problems and how the government continued to ignore society's overall condition.  Then she said, "What's the 2POTAI?"

Eric hesitated a moment as he thought, then answered.  "The Peoples' Party Of Truth and Integrity."

"And the 57
th
Amendment?"

"Um… I think the one that set a minimum amount of donations before a party could run a candidate in national elections about a dozen years back."

Never one to worry that much about politics before, Emily pondered that for a moment, but returned to scanning the streets.

The protestors weren't the only ones about.  Numerous small but thick huddles of tourists moved about the national landmarks.  For most of them their clothes matched the dull scenery.  Only a few foreign visitors stood out with their brighter, richer garments.

Emily looked out on the drabness, nearly uniform but for where some of the non-government and non-lobbyist property was worse: in need of cleaning, painting, repairs or all of the above.  "You're right, Dad.  He
could
blend in."

"Yeah.  But scientific deduction stops there.  This is a damn big tourist trap.  He could really be here and we may actually see him and not know it.  Got any ideas?"

Emily shook her head.  "Not a one."

"Well."  Eric sighed with resignation.  "Let's find somewhere to park.  We're going to have to get out among the crowd to find him if he's here."

Not far from the old red Smithsonian Castle, they found a parking garage.  Eighty-five dollars an hour made Eric grumble, but they used it anyway.

"We only need it this once," he rationalized.  "Can take the Metro after today."

Matching his swift pace leaving the garage, Emily thought the weather wasn't too bad for now.  As long as the wind didn't blow too much and it didn't rain, then she simply felt cold versus chilled to the bone.  The fast walk helped to warm her.

They headed for the Capitol Building.  Two large crowds waited at its steps.  In one were a couple of school groups, easily identified by the holographic flags above both teachers and children.  The blue class would soon enter, while the yellows passed time with various activities.  She thought she could hear teachers shouting for order.  Soon a comparative calm came over the yellow group.

It didn’t last.  By the time she and her father reached the steps she could plainly hear individual teachers screaming again.

The other crowd was restive, made of a motley mass of people.  More signs were among this group, saying many of the same things she saw earlier.  Police stood close to this one, the officers' eyes darting about nervously.

Emily forced her attention away from the two groups.  There was work for her here.  It occurred to her that the distraction caused by the students and protesters was perfect for a pickpocket.  Maybe…just maybe.

Four hours later they had covered the eastern end of the Mall, including the inside of the Capitol, the Supreme Court building and the Library of Congress.  Nothing to show for it but feet and legs wanting a rest, bodies wanting warmth.

Emily couldn't even remember much of the interiors of the famous structures.

Just an endless search for scruffy male faces, all studied to see if they were the right age, size and general appearance to be John Hardy.  One she remembered clearly: a man she lingered on for a moment because he was rather distinguished in profile and of uncertain lineage.  Then he turned, saw her staring and blushed.  She had quickly turned away, as embarrassed as he.  She decided she had probably been ogling some lawyer or congressional staffer.  Or worse, maybe some young ambassador from an emerged African or Arab nation.  Now he'll go home and complain about how rude the poor American women are.

"Come on, Em," Eric said, looking up.  "Those clouds are getting heavy again and it's going to be dark soon.  Let's go bail the car out."

Emily checked her watch.  "I've got a better idea.  We're going to get charged for another hour anyway, so why don't we stop at that McDonald's on the way.  I'm starving and I need to sit down for a while."

Eric thought for a second.  "Okay.  But if we get caught in a storm, it's on you."

"Deal.  Meals don't cost that much."

"I mean the parking fee."

"Isn't there some consideration for ability to pay?"

"Nope.  Your idea, your bill.  I figure you want to miss out on a supper offered by Wally's wife, then you must be willing to pay the price."

"Wait a minute.  You never said anything about home cooking.  That changes everything."  She picked up the pace.  "Let's get the car."