Tears in Rain Part 21

"You humans are all the same. In the end you always support each other," she said venomously, still tasting the bitterness in her mouth.

The inspector's face darkened.

"That's not true," he muttered with a hint of annoyance.

Bruna had wanted to wound him and she had certainly done so. Now she was beginning to regret it, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize to him. Not yet. Not with all that adrenaline and humiliation still churning around inside. So they walked on together for a few minutes without saying a word, not knowing where they were going until Lizard stopped.

"It's time to eat. Let's grab something and that way we can talk a bit about the case."

Before Bruna could answer, a call came in from Nopal. She gave a start, signaled to the policeman that he should wait for her, and walked off a few feet to talk to the memorist.

"What are you doing with that bloodhound? Have you managed to be arrested by him?" asked the writer sarcastically.

And what's that to you? thought the detective, but for some reason she couldn't say it to him. She grabbed the wrist on which she wore her mobile with her other hand to stop it shaking. Nopal made her nervous.

"What do you want?"

"Your appointment tomorrow. The guy rang me. He wants you to get there an hour earlier."

Yes, of course. The get-together with the mem pirate who wrote illegal memories.

"So it'll be at...at 12:15, right? Same place?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Thanks."

Pablo frowned.

"Listen. That Lizard is dangerous. Don't trust him."

Bruna became irritated. Suddenly she felt she had to defend the inspector. She felt that Paul was her friend. Paul: it was the first time she had thought about him using his first name. In fact Paul seemed less of a risk to Bruna than Nopal.

"You're wrong. The other day he saved me from a beating," she said.

And she gave the writer a quick summary of her encounter with the thugs.

"Well, what a coincidence. They attack you and Lizard just happens to be there. And it's enough for him to take out his gun for everyone to run off. Because it turns out that-oh, what luck-none of the a.s.sailants is actually carrying a firearm. And no one is arrested, of course. I can write much more realistic scenarios."

"That's nonsense," said the rep.

But Nopal's words began to buzz around inside her head like menacing hornets.

"You won't believe me, Bruna, but I am your friend. I am now, and I always will be, on your side. And I worry about what might happen to you. It's clear that this escalation in ant.i.techno violence is meticulously organized. I can see it, I know it. I've spent years re-creating life and I can tell when life is too perfect, more realistic than the real world! Everything that has happened has been prepared, is being controlled, is following a script. And you can't set up something like this without the involvement of the police as well."

The android didn't say anything. She didn't want to hear any more. But she listened.

"Isn't there anything about him that has surprised you? No strange behavior? He hasn't by any chance made an effort to become your friend? To gain your confidence?"

Bruna glanced over at Lizard and caught him watching her from afar with his arms folded. The android quickly looked away. She had indeed always found the policeman a little too friendly, too collaborative. Like today. Why had her taken her to see the priest?

"But how would it help him to become my friend?"

"As far as I'm aware, you're the only independent detective who's investigating the case on behalf of the technos. If he has you close at hand, he can find out what you're learning. And he might have something worse in mind. This script still contains many surprises, and it strikes me that it's a horror story. Be careful, Bruna, and don't trust him."

And he ended the conversation, leaving the rep full of despair and feeling like an orphan. The android walked slowly back to where Lizard was waiting for her, her spirits as heavy as her feet.

"What did he say to you?" asked the policeman sharply.

"Who?"

"Nopal. What did he say to you?"

"Why do you look over my shoulder to see who's calling me? Is total lack of respect an aspect of police brutality?"

"I saw you. I saw that sideways glance you threw me. It wasn't a nice look."

"Oh, by all the d.a.m.n species! Stop bothering me with your paranoia!"

"Why did you become so nervous when he rang you? I've never seen you like that before. What's with you and that man? Don't trust Nopal, Husky."

Well, well! Earlier on he'd been calling her Bruna; now, he'd gone back to the more formal surname. The policeman's green eyes looked very dark, almost black. Two shiny, hard b.a.l.l.s with a fearsome expression, trapped like insects under his thick eyelids.

"Pablo Nopal is an a.s.sa.s.sin. I know it. He killed his uncle and probably killed his secretary. Everything incriminates him beyond a shadow of a doubt, but he got away with it because we couldn't find the weapon. He used an old-fashioned gun, one that uses gunpowder with a 9mm metal bullet. Probably a P35."

"A Browning Hi-Power. That gun is more than a century old."

"Yes, it's an old piece of junk, but it can still kill."

Those sorts of guns had been withdrawn from circulation after Unification, with the famous Clean Hands Law, which also restricted the use of plasma weapons solely to security forces and the army. The old pistols and revolvers were traced with efficient scanners capable of detecting their metal alloys. And the fabrication of plasma guns required a sheet of celadium, a new mineral from the distant mines on Encelado, and each sheet was registered, numbered, and loaded with a locator chip. Despite all these precautions, there was no shortage of every conceivable sort of illegal weapon on Earth-from relics of the era of gunpowder to diverse types of plasma.

"What I'm trying to say is that he's a man with no scruples and no morals. A truly dangerous character. And he was a memorist. Perhaps he's the one who's writing the content for the adulterated mems. Why is he calling you? Maybe he's offered to help you? Doesn't that strike you as odd? I don't know what power he has over you, but I do know he's deceiving you."

"Oh, leave me in peace," spluttered Bruna.

What she wanted to say was, Don't go on. Stop talking. I don't want to hear any more. I'm confused. But her confusion caused insecurity, and the insecurity was making her angry.

"I've had enough. I'm off."

She turned her back on Lizard and, fl.u.s.tered, strode off down the street. She was about to jump onto a travelator when, out of the blue, she had an extraordinary idea. An incredibly simple, brilliant idea. She turned her head; it took her a few seconds to locate the broad shoulders and st.u.r.dy neck of the inspector rising above the crowd. She caught up with him just as he was beginning the complicated maneuver of folding his large body into his car.

"Lizard...Paul...Please, wait."

She breathed in and gave a big smile. It wasn't difficult: she was so pleased with the idea she'd had that she felt like laughing.

"I'm sorry. I'm behaving like an idiot. I'm...on edge."

"You're unbearable," he said with a neutral, composed tone.

"Yes, yes, forgive me. That Labarian drove me crazy. The whole situation is driving me crazy. But let's leave it at that. You were talking about having something to eat. That seems like a good idea, but let's go to my place. I'll make us something to eat and at the same time, I want to show you something."

"What?"

"You'll see."

They got there quickly in the official car, but it seemed like an eternity to Bruna. She had difficulty containing her excitement. They went up in the elevator without saying a word, and when they got to Bruna's floor, the rep rushed to her door and opened it. A strange music filled the landing. Standing upright in the middle of the lounge-c.u.m-kitchen was the bicho, playing a sort of flute. He stopped and lowered the instrument.

"Hi, Bruna."

"Hi, Maio," she replied, really happy to see him for the first time ever.

The rep looked at Lizard. The man was stunned. She'd finally managed to breach his stupid air of a laid-back know-it-all. She looked back at the alien-huge, as tall as Lizard but even broader, with that incredible face of a big dog-and his bare torso, and the colors, shimmering viscera, and internal juices discernible through his translucent skin. Wow. Bruna was beginning to get used to the bicho and there was no question he was an impressive sight.

"Sorry," babbled Maio with his watery voice.

He picked up his old T-shirt and put it on.

"I took it off because it's annoying; I'm sorry."

It was not surprising that the T-shirt bothered him: it was stretched to breaking point across his large chest and seemed to be squeezing him like a corset.

"You must be a refugee Omaa," murmured the policeman, still somewhat taken aback.

"That's right."

"Lizard, meet Maio. I met him one day in...the street. Anyway, yesterday I told him he could stay here on my sofa until he finds somewhere else. And Maio, this is Inspector Paul Lizard, who's helping me with my most recent case. Paul, please explain to him what you're doing."

"Explain what?"

"Well, you know, tell him that you're investigating the matter of the deaths of the reps. And that we've been collaborating."

While she was talking, Bruna was gazing intently into the Omaa's eyes, as if trying to send him a signal. Then she realized her stupidity, and began to speak mentally to the bicho. Get inside his head. Get inside this guy's head and tell me what he's thinking. Tell me if he's hiding anything from me. Tell me if he wants to hurt me.

"I can't," said the Omaa.

"You can't what?" asked Lizard.

"What do you mean you can't?" Bruna shouted.

"What is it that he can't do?" the policeman insisted.

The Omaa lowered his head and repeated, "I can't!"

It sounded like someone throwing a bucket of water against a wall.

"But why?" asked Bruna in despair.

The alien began to change color. He went dark all over, becoming reddish-brown.

"What's happening to you?" asked the rep, concerned.

"It's the kuammil. It's the result of an intense emotion. Like when you want to speak but you shouldn't."

"What's going on here?" growled Lizard in annoyance.

Something told Bruna she shouldn't pursue the matter further. Not right now.

"So you really can't?"

Maio shook his head. The rep turned toward the inspector.

"Look, I'm sorry, but it's better that we drop it and you leave. I haven't got anything to eat anyway. We'll talk another day."

Lizard looked at her, more wide-eyed than ever. Just then, he noticed that Bartolo was chewing on the cuff of his pants and with a shake of his leg, he sent the creature flying a few feet. The bubi shrieked.

"What are you doing, you brute?" yelled the rep angrily, squatting down to pick up the greedy-guts, forgetting that she had done the same thing two days earlier.

Indignation seemed to have swept away all of Lizard's lethargy.

"You're insane," he spluttered.

He said it with anger. With hatred.

"What's happening is that I don't trust you, Lizard."

"Nor I you. Because you're insane. Keep your interplanetary zoo and leave me in peace," he spat.

And he left, slamming the door behind him.

The android turned to Maio, who was slowly recovering his customary multihued color.

"And now, you, tell me why the devil you can't read his thoughts."

The Omaa turned slightly darker in color.

"I can only get inside the heads of those people with whom I've been close."

Bruna became worried.

"How close?"

"Very close. Totally close. Intimately close. As close as two beings can be. When an alien makes guraam, the kuammil comes into contact with the other being's kuammil, and from that moment, the alien can read the other being's thoughts. Guraam means connection. It's what you call-"

Bruna raised her hand. "Don't go on."

"I won't go on."

He had turned reddish-brown again.