Daisy Wong, Space Marshal: The Case of the Runaway Concubine by Freddi MacNaughton (parable of the sower read online .txt) 📗

Gilmore.  He's the only one with that kind of scar.  He andMeizhen were on the same project team."

"I'd like to speak with him," Daisy said.

"He's no longer with us," the director said. "He left shortly after Meizhen disappeared, not right away, but shortly. Nothing suspicious there.  Around here, researchers come and go.  It's thenature of project work."

"Did he leave a forwarding address?"

"Indeed he did."

The director punched a few keys and a holo screen snapped tolife above her desk.  She poked at it here and there and a picture of RayGilmore appeared.  He was handsome, not drop-dead-gorgeous, but credible.  Thescar added a certain bad-boy appeal, but he certainly wasn't worth risking thewrath of a major tong boss.  No one was.

He'd given his forwarding address as Timberline Lodge,Oregon, Earth.

"Timberline Lodge?  Never heard of it," Daisysaid.

"It's a ski resort.  Ray's an avid skier."

The pieces were beginning to slide into place.

"Tell me about the project," Daisy said.

"Same old, same old.  Biological computing and humanaugmentation.  I don't have the details of the project they were working on." She made a face.  "I wouldn't understand them if I did."  She made anotherface.  "Silly me.  I'm management, not research and development.  They dothe work and get paid the big bucks; I fill out the forms and don't."

"There must be something you can tell us about theirwork," Daisy said.

"Well, I can tell you this, without Ray working on it,that project has fallen way behind schedule."

"Can you give me a copy of his personnel file?"

"Sure thing."

#

On the flight from Los Angeles, Mars, to New Telluride, theMoon, Daisy and Muffy had lots of time to read files and burn up the net.

As it developed, Ray's full name was Raedan William Gilmore,and his transcripts, military record, and employment history were enough to putanyone to sleep.  The only glitch on his otherwise exemplary record was hisapparent decision to run away with Meizhen.  Or to help her run away.

But why would he do that?  He must have been aware of therisks.  What could have persuaded him to take them?

If Meizhen had been carrying Ray's baby, it might have addedup.  But she hadn't been, and so it didn't.

And why would Meizhen have chosen to run away with a nobodyfrom nowhere?  True, Gilmore was well educated and belonged to severalprofessional associations, but he had no connections, no family, and no money. How did she expect to survive?  For that matter, how had she survived for thelast ten months?  The funds Snakeskin had sent her certainly wouldn't have beenenough.  Where was her money coming from?

#

Once settled in their hotel room, Daisy and Muffy brought upthe local business directory.

"Fun and games, or basic survival needs?  What's ourgirl after, do you think?" Daisy asked.

"Most definitely survival," Muffy said.  "Shecannot afford fun and games at this point."

"Survival it is," Daisy said.

They soon found the Willamette Genetics Foundry.  It was oneof only two high-end genetics outfits on the Moon, so it seemed like areasonable place to begin.  They occupied an entire building on the outskirtsof New Telluride.  According to the company's profile, the core of their businesswas "fertility and life-enhancement solutions for the geneticallychallenged."

"Do tell," Daisy said.

"I am thinking Meizhen did not come all this way tohave her breasts enlarged."

Imitating Muffy's accent, Daisy said, "I am thinkingyou are being absolutely and most perceptively correct in your wonderfulobservation, Officer Chatterjee."

They grinned and giggled and caught the next transportacross town.

The Willamette Genetics building was made out of stainlesssteel, glass, concrete, and security.  It had no fewer cameras, sensors, anduniforms than a topnotch casino in a bottom-notch neighborhood.

Time and time again Daisy and Muffy flashed their badges,and time and time again the people behind the reception desks flashed theirsmiles.  Daisy asked questions.  The people behind the desks refused to answerthem.  Daisy objected.  They told her to come back with a court order and askedthem leave.

Daisy and Muffy left.  Breaking heads at this stage wouldhave only made things worse.

Muffy hacked into the Willamette net.  She found this andthat, but the leads turned out to be false fronts, a string of Potemkinvillages, set up to bamboozle the nosey.

Muffy tried the space-marshal access codes, codes that weresupposed to unlock any site in the solar system.

No luck.

"They must be completely off the grid," Daisysaid.

"Maybe they have their own grid," Muffy suggested.

"Hard-wired: no signals to tap, no connections with theoutside, nothing to unlock.  It might be worth the effort, depending."

"It appears to be time for another approach."

"Agreed," Daisy said.  "How about we check inwith the Telluride PD."

#

Daisy and Muffy paid a visit to the local doughnut shop.

Bingo.

A few months back, the New Telluride PD had found a guy—avery dead guy—with a blaster scar on his face.

"Where did you find him?" Daisy asked.

"In his room at the Glacier View Resort," the NTPDsergeant said.  "He was in a bathtub of cold water.  And his own blood.  Alsocold."

Over the years, Daisy had decided that cops came in one of twoways: tall and thin or short and thick.  But this guy was tall andthick.  On the other hand, the lights were on and somebody was home.

"Tell me more," Daisy said.

Sure thing.  The water had been cold when they'd found him,but forensics had determined that it had been hot when he'd gone in.  He'dslashed his wrists—the long way, not across—with a steak knife and had bledout.  They'd found the knife, right there on the floor next to the tub.

"No last-minute calls for help?" Daisy asked.

"Not that showed up in the comm records," thesergeant said.

"Any ID?"

"Lots of it.  He was Charles Emerson Pierce, MD, but hewasn't.  Couldn't have been."

"How so?"

"Charles Emerson Pierce, MD, is ninety-seven and liveswith his wife in Miami, Earth."

Where they undoubtedly enjoyed sunrises over the Atlantic,fishing, bingo, sailing, and long walks on the beautiful, sandy beaches.

Daisy felt her face flush with anticipation.  They were closingin on pay dirt.  "What about toxicology?"

"He'd been drinking, but not enough to pass out."

"What happened to the body?"

"Cremated.  What else?  This is the Moon."

"Yeah."

The sergeant pulled a paper file from a drawer.  He gave itan expert toss and it made a slow, low-gravity arc toward Daisy.

She grabbed it and flipped