It Looks Like You're Writing a Letter

Stilson and Doherty strode across the darkened parking lot of the Security offices. Sec vehicles were always deep blue in colour, even though private vehicles and public transport were almost exclusively white. Stilson supposed black would appear too menacing, and Sec officers had no chance of blending into traffic anyway as the prefix on their idents made them stick out like sore thumbs wherever they went.

"So where do we start?" asked Doherty, knowing full well that Stilson already had a plan.

"The sister. I've been through Griffen's files and the only family member he's got left is a sister, name of Sue. I've got a location on her, we're going to talk to her and see what she knows."

As they neared their allocated vehicle, it unlocked, lit up in a cluster of tiny glowing lights and opened its doors automatically. They hurriedly jumped in and Stilson curtly commanded the vehicle to an address in a suburb to the east of town, foregoing manual operation of the controls altogether.

As the car slid noiselessly from the parking space and out onto the slick black freeway, Doherty looked at Stilson. Did he have family? Despite all the years they'd been partners, he knew virtually nothing about the stoic Stilson, with his immaculate black suit, coiffured hair and groomed eyebrows. When they were first paired, the office found their differences amusing. They were called 'The Odd Couple' after an ancient television series. Stilson had no family portrait on his arm piece. In fact, Doherty had never heard him mention any children or a spouse. He didn't even know if he was gay or straight, or somewhere in between - not that it mattered. Their conversation never degenerated into bawdy male banter no matter how often Doherty tried. It was always business.

For the first few months they'd worked together, Doherty made an effort to get Stilson to open up, come out of his shell, perhaps even smile once in a while. All efforts had proven futile and an ill-advised practical joke had seen Stilson report Doherty for improper conduct. That was as much of a hint as Doherty needed to keep the relationship on a purely professional level. Nor did Doherty detect any hint of tragedy or repressed turmoil in Stilson. He was efficient, clinical, but seemed to genuinely enjoy his job - he was the perfect company man. Doherty by comparison often felt like the older man's wayward son, or an apprentice, even though his time on the job was roughly comparable with Stilson's.

Still, the Ora algorithm, as usual, knew what it was doing. Doherty's lightness of touch, sense of humour and people skills often came in handy and proved a good counterpoint to Stilson's razor-like logic and single-mindedness. They were about to go and interrogate a nineteen-year-old girl, a perfect case in point.

Within minutes they had arrived outside a dreary, crumbling apartment block. Climbing out of the car, Stilson checked his arm piece.

"Third floor, she's awake."

The apartment building had no lock on the main door so they walked in and were faced with darkness. Doherty flicked a nearby switch, which did nothing. Something scurried into a corner on the far side of the lobby.

"Why don't you ever take me anywhere nice?" Doherty quipped. Stilson ignored him and activated the floodlight on his arm piece. The lobby and staircase were illuminated in an icy blue wash.

"Come on. She's on the move."

The two Security officers walked briskly up the stairs, their immediate surroundings bathed in Stilson's blue glow. By the time they'd got up to level three, Sue's avatar was on level four, so they kept climbing. Stilson tried to reach her via the Grid, gesturing over his arm piece then speaking aloud.

"Miss Griffen, Miss Susan Griffen. We are representatives of OraCorp Security Services and we need to ask you a few questions. Please remain where you are." There was no response, but then neither man was expecting one. They had reached level four and Sue was quite obviously in apartment 26 at the end of the hall. They approached the door and knocked.

Stilson repeated his previous announcement, this time to the closed door. They waited. A thin African American woman holding a small baby opened the door.

"What do you want?" she snipped.

Stilson glanced at his arm piece. "Mrs Bowles, we need to speak to Miss Griffen." There was no point in Mrs Bowles denying Sue's presence in her apartment - her avatar was glowing clearly in the small bathroom. Stilson and Doherty might just as well have had the ability to see through walls.

"She doesn't want to speak to you. You got a warrant?"

Stilson smiled coldly. It wasn't really a smile, it was more of a thinning of the lips with upturned corners. It was not meant to convey amusement, rather it was usually a preamble to something bad happening. "Miss Bowles, may I remind you that as employees of OraCorp Security Services we have all rights to enter your home at any time and for any reason we deem to be suitable. You agreed to this when you created your ident, you know this. Warrants are something from the old movies and haven't been used for decades."

"This is some bullshit, Officer!"

Doherty decided it was time to step in. "Mrs Bowles, we can see you're a busy lady and we really don't want to use up too much of your time. We simply want to ask Sue a few questions, she's not in any trouble. We sure would appreciate it if you'd let us come in and speak to her?"

Mrs Bowles looked at Doherty, seemingly for the first time. Her face softened almost immediately - such was his charming demeanour and boyish good looks. Doherty was a master of body language. By the time Mrs Bowles had turned her attention to him, he was already leaning casually against the doorframe, arms uncrossed and palms in view. He also made a point of always carrying his sidearm in the small of his back, rather than under his armpit, so it was never visible.

Mrs Bowles sighed. "OK I guess, but any funny business and I'll call the super."

"Thank you so much Mrs Bowles," said Stilson without any hint of gratitude whatsoever. Both men slid past the householder and into the tiny apartment.

It was as tidy as its space would allow and appeared clean. Stilson had automatically scanned the area and found no weaponry or explosives, no secret rooms and no large output of electro-magnetics. Mrs Bowles, the Grid told him, was a friend to Sue Griffen. They had bonded over a mutual love of pop music and had regularly gone to music shows and discotheques prior to Mrs Bowles' pregnancy. Mr Bowles was out of the picture, and busy having a relationship with a woman on the other side of town, although he did pay regular alimony. None of this was relevant to the investigation but it was easier to know it than ignore it, so Stilson filed the information away in case it was useful.

Sue came out of the bathroom. Tears had striped her cheeks with charcoal makeup and she was snivelling. She was clad in the intricate, funereal chic that appeared to be the trend with young people these days. She looked tiny and scared.

"What do you want?" Sue asked with a trembling voice.

"Miss Griffen, we'd like to ask you a few questions about your brother Tanner Griffen," Stilson started, bypassing small talk.

"What about him? You know as well as I do I don't know where he is."

"Well, we don't actually know that for sure, do we?"

"You've already checked my ident, you know I haven't seen him or been with him for months." They were playing a delicate game of cat and mouse. Both parties already knew what the other party knew, and what they were able to glean from the public information on the Grid. Nonetheless, these face-to-face meetings served to fill in any gaps, where data slipped between the cracks. There were still certain circumstances where this could happen, but largely this scene played out the same every time - both parties bluffed until they were caught out by some undeniable fact, logged in a database somewhere and readily brought to bear in any criminal proceedings.

"Don't you want our help to find him?" coaxed Doherty. Sue was too streetwise to be taken in.

"Depends what you're going to do when you get to him! He's been making fools out of you Sec guys for years. If you had him in custody he'd never come out alive and we both know it."

Stilson tilted his head to one side as if to wordlessly acknowledge that she was correct. "Okay Sue, let's try a different tack. We all want to find Tanner, albeit for different reasons. Who else is looking for him?"

"I don't know - I'm not close to his friends. Check our mutual connections, we don't move in the same circles." This was true. For family members they shared a lower than average mutual connection count.

"Miss Griffen," Stilson was growing frustrated. "Two nights ago, you visited a top-floor room at 324 Swanson. We don't show anyone living there and no Grid activity. You went up, muted your arm piece, came down, went to the 24-hour store around the corner, went back up then came back down again. That's pretty unusual behaviour. Now, we can go there ourselves and find out what's in that room but I'd rather you told me."

Sue looked defeated. Keeping quiet about that visit would only buy Thorner about thirty minutes anyway. If he was there, they'd question him. If he wasn't, they would have a hard time tracking him down due to his off-Grid status. She got the impression she was about to be taken into custody within the next few sentences, and if so it was unlikely she would see the outside of a Sec building for months.

"Alright. Look - I hired a consultant to help find Tanner. I'm worried about him and I can't go to you guys for obvious reasons."

Doherty furrowed his brow. "There's a consultant working from that top floor office? We have nothing coming from that." He checked again. The room was definitely empty and registered only to the building owner. No energy usage besides standard lighting and door locking, neither of which he could track usage for as the building was too old to have been Gridded up to log such activity.

"Yeah," Sue's face took on a mischievous look, "even if I give you his name, you'll never trace him. He's off-Grid. Totally."

Stilson chuckled, which took Doherty by surprise. It was a deep, mechanical noise that sounded more menacing than lighthearted. "You'll be surprised who we can trace, Miss Griffen. Give me the gumshoe's name."

"Thorner. Henry Thorner," Sue said, petulantly.

Stilson and Doherty looked at each other, trying to detect any hint of recognition on the other's face. None were forthcoming. Blank.

Stilson swiped his arm piece to check out of the location. "Miss Griffen, thank you for your help. Next time we speak, I hope you won't force us to climb four flights of stairs."

Sue pulled a face.

As they were leaving, Doherty turned and flicked his fingers across his arm piece. "I've sent you my ident, Miss Griffen. If you find anything out about Tanner's whereabouts, please let me know. I guarantee there are worse people than us looking for him."

Mrs Bowles slammed the door behind them.

Emerging into the dark winter chill, the Security officers walked to the deep blue car and stopped. The car willingly opened its doors, like a fat cockroach spreading its wings. Neither man got in.

"What now? We don't have much to go on," said Doherty.

"We do have Henry Thorner," Stilson replied.

"Except we don't, because the guy's a ghost - he's off-Grid, so chasing him is going to be near impossible."

"Easier to chase a guy we know is at least alive, than run after a cold digital trail." Stilson was busy on his arm piece as they spoke, already two steps ahead.

"What are you doing?" Doherty craned his neck to see the glowing blue screen.

"If he's off-Grid and doing his kind of work, he must be an older guy. No way he'd get a stitch of work if he wasn't connected physically with some useful people, and that takes years."

"Okay, so...?"

"If he's older, he must have family. He might be off-Grid, but it's unlikely they will be. I'm running a check on his name and Grid activity close to where we know Thorner was located geographically in the last twenty-four hours."

It dawned on Doherty: "Right, so if he's been visited by a family member we can find out who and speak to them."

Stilson looked disparagingly at his partner. "Use your brain Doherty. Here - outgoing call from the PayCube outside Henry Thorner's office building earlier this evening - 12:07am. To... Linda Thorner, 24, intern at Huby's law firm in Omaha, one cat, single, blonde."

Doherty still looked puzzled. "So what am I missing?"

Stilson spoke his ident to the arm piece. "SEC-Stilson12386 level 8 access." A red border appeared around the edges of his screen. "You've never used level 8 access? You have it, right?" Doherty actually had no idea. The last time he'd read a formal communication he was categorized at level 6, but that was some time ago. Stilson sighed and continued as if speaking to a toddler. "I'm requesting the video, audio and transcript of that call. We'll find out why he was calling the daughter - but there can only be one reason."

Stilson tapped behind his left ear, activating the bone-conduction headphones linked wirelessly to his arm piece. He typed and motioned on his arm piece for a few seconds, then furrowed his brow as he listened to the playback.

"Alright. Bingo." Stilson disconnected the headphone link and reverted his access. "Thorner was asking for the details of an ident. One William Kruke of the Church of the Divine in Fort Smith, Oregon."

"I'm guessing this is important. But why a church?" Doherty was already busily gesturing over his arm piece, drilling into Kruke. "This Kruke character resides at this church but doesn't identify as clergy. Doesn't look like it's an active church, if there even is such a thing anymore. I wonder what it's been repurposed for. Grid just lists it as a community meeting place. I guess we're taking a ride?"

"That's exactly what we're doing."