Body Harvest (7 page)

Terabyte had synchronized Olga Wylie’s mobile with his computer. His monitor showed exactly what was on her smartphone. He’d got a short list of phone numbers that she’d used, a very brief history of texts and a record of internet sites that she’d visited. The phone had not recorded any activity after Tuesday 25th March.

‘Just over two weeks ago,’ said Troy. ‘That’s probably when she died.’ He touched his life-logger and said, ‘I got her medical records. She had a weak heart. She’d been on the transplant waiting list for
ages but she didn’t get lucky. No one donated a heart that matched her blood type. No one legal anyway.’

‘All these phone numbers and texts check out,’ Terabyte told the two detectives. ‘Nothing shifty. A hairdresser, the online shop she used, the hospital …’

‘Genuine hospital?’ asked Troy.

‘Yes. And the texts are from a bank, shops and that sort of thing. Her emails have been deleted. Not a single one left.’

Troy sighed. ‘Okay. Let’s see the internet sites in her history.’

Terabyte displayed them on his monitor.

Almost immediately, Troy picked out one from the small number of named sites. She’d visited ‘The Solitude Network’ repeatedly. ‘What’s that?’

Terabyte clicked on the link and read from the header, ‘A place for the lonely and isolated to meet and talk.’

‘That’s what we want,’ Troy declared immediately. ‘We need to know who she’s been talking to.’

‘We don’t know her username.’

‘True,’ Troy replied, ‘but I want to see every message on the site for … let’s say … a month leading up to 25th March.’

‘Sure,’ Terabyte said. ‘No problem.’ He stroked a few keys and the information appeared onscreen.
Scrolling down the sizeable blog, he muttered, ‘There’s a lot of lonely people out there.’

‘If Olga posted anything, we might be able to work out which one she is, what she put and what replies she got,’ said Troy eagerly. ‘We can narrow it down by eliminating anybody who blogged after 25th March.’

‘And the ones who are obviously men or outers,’ Lexi said.

‘Okay. I’m on to it,’ Terabyte replied. His fingers flew across the keypad and the onscreen list began to shorten.

‘Hold it!’ Lexi almost shouted.

‘What?’

She pointed to an entry on the screen. ‘A post by someone calling themselves Wily Fox. Is that a coincidence? We’re after Olga Wylie.’

Troy said, ‘No, it’s not a coincidence. Look. It’s about health and hearts.’

Samaritan 999:
I’ve been thinking. What about alternative medicine? Have you tried anything like that?

Wily Fox:
I’ve heard of the crazy stuff like powdered rhino horn. That’s supposed to reduce fevers, but I just think of the poor creatures that get killed. Does any of it really work? Are there any that heal hearts without hurting animals?

Samaritan 999:
Let me do a bit of research. I think there is something. Maybe I can put you in touch with someone who could help.

Wily Fox:
Thanks. I’ll log back on tomorrow.

Troy said, ‘Scroll back in time, Terabyte. She must have blogged about her heart problem before. Can you isolate all her posts – and the replies?’

‘That’s a manual sorting job. It’ll take a while.’

‘How long? Hours?’

Terabyte shrugged. ‘It depends how much there is. But, no, I mean minutes, not seconds.’

‘You’re a genius.’

‘I know,’ Terabyte replied. ‘But I’ll get it onto your life-loggers quicker if you’re not breathing down my neck and talking to me.’

‘Hint taken. We’ll leave you to it.’ Pushing his luck on his way out, Troy said, ‘Afterwards, you could contact whoever hosts this site. See if they’ll tell you anything about Wily Fox and Samaritan 999.’

‘Okay.’

‘Thanks.’

Walking away with Troy, Lexi said, ‘Some spare minutes. Great. I’m going to switch off. I guess you’re going to do the opposite.’

Troy nodded. ‘Thinking time.’

Half an hour later, they were both reading Olga’s entries on The Solitude Network. Quickly, they focused on the posts that had something to do with her health and read the first one.

Wily Fox:
Normally I don’t mind being on my own. Love it really. I’m not your typical lonely heart and I’m not after a date. It’s just that there are times when it would be great to have someone to sympathise.

Take a Break:
I’m with you on that, Wily Fox. What’s the problem?

Wily Fox:
Illness, I’m afraid.

Take a Break:
I know precisely what you mean.

Samaritan 999:
Me too. Is it the silly niggling things or something serious that gets you down?

Wily Fox:
Let me put it this way. I’m not so much a lonely heart as a failing heart.

Samaritan 999:
That’s not so good.

Take a Break:
You have plenty of sympathy here. Virtual hugs and kisses.

‘The follow-up chat was interesting,’ Troy said. ‘The bit about alternative medicine and putting her in touch with someone who could help.’

‘Yeah. I wonder what Samaritan 999 means by “alternative”. If your heart’s clapped out, that’s it. You need a new one. A few herbs won’t fix it.’

Troy agreed. ‘I think Samaritan 999’s trying to be
subtle, nudging her towards the black market in new hearts. That’s definitely alternative. And she could afford it all right.’ He turned back to the screen. ‘Where did they go afterwards?’

Wily Fox:
Breathless and tired today. Nothing from the hospital.

Samaritan 999:
What are you actually waiting for?

Wily Fox:
A heart. I mean a real heart. I’m not talking about courage. Though courage would be good as well.

Samaritan 999:
A transplant?

Wily Fox:
Yes. Apparently I’ve exhausted all other treatments.

Samaritan 999:
Maybe I can help. My friends in the alternative medicine business have a transplant clinic. It’s not free, though.

Wily Fox:
Money’s not a problem. I just want a normal life.

Take a Break:
Be careful, Wily Fox. There are some dodgy doctors out there.

Wily Fox:
But I don’t have long if nothing’s done. Desperate situations call for desperate measures. I’ll try anything.

Samaritan 999:
If you send me your email, I can fix you up.

[Next entry deleted for a breach of security rules: email address detected.]

Troy sat back in his chair. ‘Now that’s a cat let out of the bag. I think we can assume Olga got in touch and used her cash to jump the queue. She had a transplant in some rogue clinic. Things went horribly wrong and she got an outer’s heart. Then this underground organization tried to cover it up by burying the evidence, knowing she was a loner. They reckoned no one would come looking for her.’

Lexi nodded. ‘Can’t fault the logic. And it reminds me of Dmitri Backhouse arranging things through a chat room.’

‘I’d like to meet Samaritan 999 and Charon Angel. One trawls for lonely people that no one will miss and the other stalks possible suicides online. Maybe they’re the same person.’

‘Huh. Don’t forget Charon Angel – that’s Sharon Angie – came across as perfectly innocent in her last message.’

Troy hesitated before replying. ‘Don’t you forget Sergio Treize could have told her a detective’s prowling around. Maybe that’s why she changed.’

‘But if you live in Switzerland, you can’t murder people in Shepford. And that’s that.’

Lexi’s life-logger vibrated with news from Olga Wylie’s house. The forensic examination was continuing but the team had found evidence of the
intruder. A single faint impression in the flower bed at the side of the house matched Unknown Shoeprint 1 left by the burial site in the wood. Size 12, trainer-type, with Adibok’s logo incorporated into the design of the tread. She looked up at Troy and asked, ‘How many women – outer or major – do you know who wear size twelve shoes? That’s 29.6 cm from toe to heel.’

Troy shrugged. ‘Probably none.’

‘Okay. It’s almost certainly a man. He’s been near where the bodies were buried and now he’s been poking around Olga Wylie’s house.’ She paused before adding, ‘Time I went back to the wood.’

The log cabin in the wood seemed to be deserted. ‘Huw!’ Lexi shouted loudly. ‘Hello?’

No reply. Just the sound of birds calling.

‘Not here,’ Troy said. ‘Which doesn’t mean a lot on its own, but …’

‘What?’

‘Everything’s exactly the same as it was on Tuesday,’ Troy observed.

The large axe and fishing rod were still propped against the cabin wall and most of Huw’s woodworking tools were still laid out on the table.

Lexi glanced around. ‘Now you mention it …’

‘That’s a spanner thrown in the works. If he’s gone, is he another victim or a suspect we’ve scared off?’

‘He’s a suspect if he’s got size twelve feet. A very strong one. That’s why I’m here. To find out.’ Staring at the ground, Lexi took a deep breath. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ She pointed her life-logger at a clear impression of a left boot outside the cabin door and then said, ‘Small feet. Size eight. And a match with Unknown Shoeprint 2. The one with a bit of rubber chipped off.’ She sighed. ‘All that proves is he wanders around the wood. But he could be an accomplice. He helped out here with the bodies but didn’t go to Olga’s.’

‘Possible,’ Troy replied. ‘But I saw him as a loner, a free spirit, not partnering anyone.’

‘More likely a victim, then.’

‘For his sake, I hope he’s neither. Maybe he just didn’t like the intrusion. You and me asking questions and a forensic team trampling over what he’d see as his territory. Maybe he’s just upped and off. I don’t suppose it takes him long to plan a move. Not a lot to pack.’ Troy took his life-logger in his hand and said, ‘I’ll still get a team to go through the wood, looking for fresh digging.’

‘Talking of people on the move, I’ll get someone to find out if Olga bought any travel tickets just before 25th March. No doubt we’d be interested in where she went.’

Walking back towards the car parked in the narrow lane, Troy said, ‘It’s sad, isn’t it? We – the people – shouldn’t need laws at all. We shouldn’t have to be told it’s bad to be nasty to each other. It should be pretty obvious.’

‘I suppose.’

‘You’d think us humans would know what’s right and what’s wrong. Especially majors.’

‘Why especially majors?’ Lexi asked with a frown.

‘We’ve got an inbuilt brake on behaviour – our religious code.’

‘You don’t need a god to be nice to each other,’ Lexi objected. ‘Everyone’s got moral instinct. Outers included. We all know killing and removing someone’s organs is a bad thing to do. Anyway,’ she added, clearly offended, ‘even with all that religion, majors do horrible things.’

Troy nodded. ‘What do you think would happen if we got rid of you and me – the law – tomorrow?’

Shrugging, Lexi said, ‘All countries have laws. That tells me everywhere goes crazy without them.’

‘That’s what I mean. It’s really sad.’

‘I guess ninety-nine per cent of people would still be nice to each other.’

‘That leaves one per cent who’d turn us into a lawless mess. One per cent too many.’

Reaching the car, its door unlocked for Lexi. ‘Let’s ignore the one per cent right now,’ she said, ‘and just concentrate on one person. Our bad guy.’

Settling inside, both of their mobiles began to ring at the same time. The caller was the same as well. Terabyte.

‘Hi,’ Lexi said. ‘How did you …?’

‘I’m a genius with phones as well. Anyway, I wanted to speak to both of you. I got hold of The Solitude Network supervisor. After Samaritan 999’s last chat with Wily Fox, he was banned from the site. He kept asking for contact details of people who didn’t want a date. Three strikes and you’re out, apparently. A waste of time if you ask me. He could log in from a different device under a different username.’

Eagerly, Troy asked, ‘Did you get any info on him – or her?’

‘Admin weren’t as protective as they usually are – maybe because he’d been a bad boy and got booted off. Anyway, he ticked the bloke box, registered with an email that he abandoned straight after, and gave a
false name and address. That’s another breach of the site’s rules.’

‘Not much help, then,’ said Troy.

‘Did you follow up any of the visitors he’d tried to meet? Meet in reality, I mean, not virtual get-togethers,’ Lexi said. ‘Because if he succeeded, they could be victims as well. And we’ve got at least one more casualty – L4G#4 – an outer whose heart ended up in a major.’

‘Of course I followed up,’ Terabyte replied, as if insulted by her question. ‘I couldn’t get any personal information but – here’s the big news – two of them logged on from Foreditch Homeless Centre. No idea what they posted or when they did it, but the place is about forty kilometres away from where you are right now.’

‘Thanks, Terabyte,’ Lexi said. ‘We’re onto it.’

‘Chapulines?’ Troy turned up his nose. ‘What are they?’

‘Grasshoppers toasted with garlic and lime. Want to try?’

‘Er … No, thanks. I’ll stick with sausages.’

‘Any scorpions in them?’ Lexi asked with a grin.

‘It’s a mystery. No one’s quite sure what they’re made of. Pork, offal, horse?’

‘You don’t even know what you’re eating!’

‘I know they taste nice, especially when they’re swimming in brown sauce.’

Lexi tried to imitate her new partner. ‘Weird.’

Under a darkening sky, she was still licking her dessert – an ant lollipop – when they arrived at the homeless centre.

The building was at the edge of Foreditch’s commercial hub, next to the temple, in the grounds of the cemetery. It had probably once belonged to the temple but now it was dedicated to helping the displaced. The manager was not much older than Troy and Lexi. She introduced herself as Skye and she showed them around, pushing open doors so they could see inside every part.

‘We provide hot meals and drinks,’ she said in the main room, which was a modest self-service canteen and seating area. ‘Our most important function.’ She opened another door on a small dormitory. ‘And a few beds. On a first-come,
first-served
basis. Never enough in winter but okay at this time of year.’ She flung back another door, revealing an office. ‘My bit of space for getting things organized. It’s open, though. No secrets here.’ There were a couple of phones and three desktop computers. A homeless woman was seated at one of them. ‘They can go online here, if they want. I encourage it.’

‘Why?’

Skye sniffed. ‘A connection to the rest of the world. Makes them feel part of the community. Less alone.’

‘Have you come across The Solitude Network?’ Troy asked.

‘Sure. I recommend it. Very comforting. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’

‘I’m just not sure it’s as safe as it looks. But you’re not to know that.’ Troy nodded towards Lexi’s life-logger. ‘We want to show you a picture of someone. I warn you, it’s not very pleasant because he’s dead, I’m afraid. But I want to know if you recognize him.’

Skye peered at the cleaned-up image of L4G#1, screwed up her face and sighed. ‘Jerome Eleven. Think so anyway. Pretty sure.’

‘One of your clients?’

Skye nodded. ‘A regular. Then he stopped.’ She turned away momentarily, obviously upset.

‘Weren’t you suspicious?’

‘No. It’s normal in this game. People come in a lot and then they don’t. Remember, they’re drifters.’

‘Did he use The Solitude Network?’

‘Think so. Yes.’

‘When did you last see him?’

Skye shrugged. ‘Weeks ago.’

Taken aback, Troy glanced at Lexi. The decomposition of the body wasn’t consistent with death that long ago. ‘Are you sure it was weeks?’

‘Couldn’t put my finger on a date.’

‘But weeks rather than days?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Did he tell you anything about his online browsing?’

‘I don’t ask. It’s private.’

‘Before he left, did he tell you what he intended to do?’

‘No.’

Disappointed, Troy switched his attention to the heart from L4G#4. ‘Can you think of an outer – man or woman – who used The Solitude Network near the end of last month and then didn’t come back?’

Skye frowned. ‘That’s not enough to go on. Maybe, but … I wouldn’t be able to suggest any names.’

Afterwards, Lexi sat beside Troy on a bench in the cemetery as overhead threatening clouds thickened. In the gloom, she looked at her partner and said, ‘We don’t know anything about the outer heart, but we’ve got names for all the bodies now. That’ll make you a happy major.’

Troy’s face remained creased. ‘Happier, but south of happy.’

‘I know what’s bothering you. The timing doesn’t add up, does it? Samaritan 999 got kicked off The Solitude Network around the time Olga died. The last week of March. I’m convinced Jerome Eleven was murdered on 4th April, so how did Samaritan 999 arrange to meet him?’

‘Exactly. Even if Samaritan 999 logged on under a different username, Jerome was drifting, probably nowhere near a computer.’

‘Maggots aren’t like humans. They don’t lie. Jerome died last Friday.’

Suddenly, Troy’s face lit up. ‘Unless … Yes. It’s obvious.’

‘Don’t tell me. He fixed up a meeting with Samaritan 999 weeks ago. They got together a few times. Days, weeks went by before Samaritan 999 smacked him on the back of the head and stole his organs.’

‘No. That wasn’t what I was going to say. They had their meeting ages ago and that’s when Jerome disappeared.’

‘But …’

‘Suspended animation.’

‘What?’

‘Any hospital or clinic can chill a patient. They slow the body chemistry right down,’ Troy said.
‘Cryonics. He’d be as good as dead but the organs would be preserved, ready for use.’

‘That’s a tidy explanation,’ Lexi admitted. ‘But I’m puzzled. Why didn’t I think of it?’

‘Why should you?’

‘Because he’s an outer like me and outers have been known to hibernate – in a way.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s not an everyday event. It’s halfway between myth and fact. Some outers have dropped their heart rates to ten or fifteen beats a minute in life-threatening situations. It helps them to survive critical injuries or illnesses. Gives doctors more time to sort out a treatment, like going into slow motion. Something you majors can’t do.’

Troy nodded. ‘Some rogue clinic kept him on ice till they harvested what they wanted. Then they disposed of his body last Friday. It all fits.’

‘Maybe that’s why we’re drawing a blank on the outer heart. L4G#4 could have been put in hibernation ages ago.’

‘True.’

Lexi turned towards him and said, ‘Pretty good reasoning for someone who’s not clever.’

Troy smiled. ‘Once a heart, lungs, kidney or whatever are removed from a body, how long do they last? I’m not clever enough to know.’

‘They start going downhill straightaway so it’s best to operate as soon as possible. I think they’re still okay after a few hours in a chiller. That’s what Gianna Humble said. Something about chilling an organ till the recipient’s ready. I’ll do some research and firm it up.’

Almost at once, Troy jolted upright.

‘What …?’

Jumping to his feet and pointing at a figure heading for the homeless centre through the increasing darkness, Troy exclaimed, ‘That’s Huw!’

As soon as the two detectives began to move towards him, Huw spotted them, turned and ran in the opposite direction, making for a gate from the cemetery onto a riverside path. A rucksack bounced up and down on his back.

Within seconds, Lexi was strides ahead of Troy and hail began to pelt them. The sudden storm distorted Troy’s vision and the vicious balls of ice stung his skin. He screwed up his face so the hail had less chance of hitting his eyes.

At the gate, Huw and Lexi had turned left towards the commercial heart of Foreditch. Countless hailstones hurled themselves at the river, rippling the surface so the water appeared to be boiling. On the other side, the frozen rain clattered loudly against an
approaching train that was reducing its speed as it neared the station.

Lexi’s burst of speed had not yet faded. Troy didn’t see much point in simply following her. He needed a different tactic. Above the storm, he yelled, ‘Immediate backup needed for Lexi Iona Four. Trace her life-logger. Can’t be far from Foreditch Crime Central.’ He dashed towards a bridge that spanned both the river and the railway. On the other side, he vaulted over the fence and sprinted up a short grassy slope onto the stones beside the track. Taking a deep breath, he ran alongside the train. When the last carriage came past, he leapt between the rails and accelerated. Gritting his teeth, he surged forward as fast as he was able and threw himself at the back of the coach. He grabbed a cold metal bar with both arms and his feet found the metal plate. There, he clung on tightly. Relieved. He’d acted on impulse – a dangerous impulse that might have got him injured or killed – but he was elated as well.

The train continued to brake but, even so, Troy overtook two people scampering through the hailstorm on the far river bank. As far as Troy could see, Lexi was lagging further behind Huw. As an outer, she was probably running out of steam. Neither of them noticed Troy on his unconventional and perilous perch.

When the train passed over the river and slowed to walking pace, Troy jumped off and scrambled onto the river bank. There, behind the entertainment complex, he waited. The path had turned white with small frozen spheres. The storm had eased a little but hail still bounced off his head and shoulders. The sky remained dark as nightfall loomed.

Within seconds, Huw saw Troy ahead and skidded to a halt. Puzzled, he stood still, uncertain. Then he turned slowly round, clearly wondering who he’d prefer to tackle – Troy or an exhausted Lexi.

‘I’m tired,’ Lexi called out as she drew close to him, ‘but I still don’t think you want to take me on. You might be surprised who comes off worse.’

On cue, two police officers from Foreditch Crime Central raced onto the path and positioned themselves behind her.

Huw glanced at the river and Troy realized that, just for an instant, he was thinking about making his escape by diving into the water and swimming. With a rail bridge nearby and four people against him, though, he must have decided that the attempt would fail. He would also have known that his every move would be captured by life-loggers.

Huw’s shoulders sagged. He was trapped. Game over.

A train sauntered out of town as Troy walked up to him. At the same time, Troy’s life-logger vibrated with an incoming message. When he saw it, Troy laughed. He held it up towards Huw and said, ‘Look. Memo from the team near Langhorn Reservoir. “No sign of subject Huw. No fresh graves in the wood.”’

‘You thought I might be dead?’

‘It’s a murder scene and you disappeared,’ Troy answered. ‘It was one theory. But it’s not holding up well right now. Another was that you’re a suspect. Running away adds to that impression.’

Still panting, Lexi joined them. Immediately, she glanced down to confirm Huw’s shoe size. The two officers stayed within a few paces in case they were needed.

‘But …’ Flustered, Huw hesitated.

‘Yes?’

‘You took me by surprise, turning up here. I suppose I panicked. I haven’t done anything wrong. I was just scared I made myself look guilty because I told you I was staying put, but didn’t.’

‘Why did you move on?’ Troy asked.

‘I didn’t like all the … commotion in the wood. Nothing more than that. I like peace and quiet.’

‘What’s in your backpack?’

‘All my worldly goods. And it’s nowhere near full.’

‘Some sharp tools?’

‘A few specialist ones for carving. Not many.’

‘Why come here?’ Troy said.

‘I told you before. I volunteer at the homeless centre.’

‘Do you know a man called Jerome who used to drop in now and again?’

Huw shook his head. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell. No.’

‘Well, here’s my problem. One of our victims was here before his body turned up next to Langhorn Reservoir. Now I find out you help out at the same place and you were living a stone’s throw from his grave. Your shoeprint’s right there, next to it. You’re the common factor.’

Huw opened his mouth to say something but failed to find the words.

Lexi said, ‘You know we’re going to arrest you, don’t you? We can’t have you running off again.’ She looked at the police reinforcements and said, ‘It’s a charge of resisting arrest for now.’

‘But,’ Huw spluttered, ‘I wouldn’t bury someone right next to my own cabin, would I? That’d be stupid.’

Quick as a flash, Lexi replied, ‘It’s not just clever people who commit crimes. Stupid people do it too.’

Troy smiled. ‘The reason you’re not facing something more serious is because we know someone else is involved. Do you want to tell us about an accomplice?’

‘I can’t. I don’t …’

‘Where did you get the trolley?’

‘Trolley? What trolley?’

Huw looked suitably surprised and bewildered.

‘All right,’ Troy said. ‘We’ll stick at resisting arrest. For one thing, I don’t think you’re stupid.’ To the uniformed officers, he said, ‘Don’t forget to check his bag. I think you’ll find some sharp instruments in it.’

While Troy and Lexi watched Huw being led away, the hail finally came to an end. Lexi looked at her partner and said, ‘Just tell me one thing. How did you get here so quickly?’

‘Technically,’ he replied, ‘I think it’s called cheating.’

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘A major has to preserve his mystery. Anyway, what about you? What was that bit about him coming off worse if he took you on?’

‘You only met me three days ago. Nowhere near long enough to probe the vast depths of an outer.’