I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work…
I want to achieve it through not dying.
—Woody Allen
Tay was throwing the Frisbee and screaming and yelling. Lewis panted after it. His lanky figure almost gawky, his long arms stretching for the plastic dish. They were in the park, not far from the zoo. He bent to retrieve the brightly colored toy. A dull thud echoed far above them. A clump of pigeons beat their wings in a sudden fluttering cloud and took off. The sound like someone shaking sheets. Tay squealed in delight and ran after them. Look at me, he thought, I’m playing with my kid.
§
They had dined at the zoo café and he had stared at her with pride as she handled the ordering like a grown-up. She asked the waitress about specials, recommended things for him, discussed what she should drink, and listened politely to what he had to say. She had opinions and views like an adult, and then quite suddenly the six-year-old would emerge as she burst out laughing.
“This is my daddy,” she told the waitress. “He’s in show business.”
The waitress smiled. “He seems a very nice daddy,” she agreed.
“He’s really silly though,” confided Tay.
“That’s all right in a daddy I think,” said the waitress. Tay considered this seriously. “Yes it is,” she finally conceded. “He’s going to come and take me out every week.”
“That’s nice,” said the waitress.
“C’mon, Daddy, let’s go play Friskee like you promised.”
“I think it’s Frisbee.”
“No, it’s Friskee,” she said. “We always play Friskee.”
He rose. The waitress smiled.
“That’s a lovely little girl you’ve got there.”
“I know it,” he said.
Outside, she stopped and pointed to the dome.
“Look, Daddy, there’s a crack in the sky.”
He looked up. Something spidery seemed to be crawling along the dome far above their heads. As he watched, the spiderweb increased in all directions like a broken windscreen.
“I expect it’s nothing,” he said.
From somewhere the wail of a siren echoed around the park.
Alex heard the siren as he entered the elevator. Sammy’s apartment was on the hundredth floor. The elevator took forever. As he stepped out, he shivered. Someone stepping on my grave, he thought. There was a faint whiff of cigar smoke in the air. His footsteps echoed down the hallway. He came to her door and pressed the buzzer. He could hear it clearly echoing inside. There was no response. He pushed and to his surprise the door opened. He put his head cautiously inside, half expecting a book. Be just like Sammy to come leaping out at him stark naked. She used to do wild things like that in the days back when. Once he had found her in bed, spread-eagled, wearing only a pair of heart-shaped panties, completely tied up with silk stockings.
“Help,” she’d whimpered.
He’d helped.
Now what was she up to? He felt a sudden stab of desire rekindled by the memory.
“Sammy?” he called softly.
He pushed open the door of the bedroom, half disappointed she wasn’t in there waiting. He continued through the kitchen. Then he stopped suddenly. Something was wrong. Where was the dog?
His heart was thumping wildly in his chest now. He breathed deeply and walked into the living room. Sammy was lying quietly at the computer console, her face resting on the keyboard as if listening for something. Her eyes stared blankly towards the window. She couldn’t have been dead long. Behind her all was chaos. Someone had done great violence to her computer console. Both the screen and the hard drives had been smashed, and bits of her files were strewn all over the room. The open window indicated they had tipped some stuff out that way too. Looks like they threw the dog out as well. He felt suddenly sick.
He returned from the bathroom still gagging. His instinct was to run away as far as he could. Only minutes ago he’d been fantasizing about her. For God’s sake, she was still warm. Dunphy was downstairs. He’d know what to do. Don’t touch anything, that was the way. He’d read about this stuff. Pretend it’s a movie. Walk out of the door and keep going.
He looked for the Ganesha on the remains of her desk. It was nowhere to be seen. Computer smashed, Ganesha gone, it didn’t take a genius to figure out Sammy had accidentally alerted someone. Someone who was so desperate to stop something getting out they would kill without mercy. He’d get Dunphy up and he’d call the police. They could pick up Katy Wallace. She had some explaining to do.
He ran out of the elevator, across the lobby, and outside to the street. The cab was gone. He looked both ways in disbelief. There was no sign of it. What the fuck was going on? Why would Dunphy leave? He owed him a ton of money.
“Looking for someone?” said a voice behind him.
Two men in grey suits stepped forward. They had hats. They might have carried a big sign saying DETECTIVES if they’d wanted to be really obvious.
“My cab,” said Alex, trying to remember he was innocent.
“My name’s Rogers,” said the shorter of the two. “This here’s Kyle,” he said, indicating the large African by his side. The African stared at him but said nothing.
“Perhaps you’d better come with us,” said Rogers.
“Why?” asked Alex, his mouth going suddenly dry on him.
“You’re under suspicion,” said Rogers.
“For what?” said Alex.
“For murder.”
They took him downtown, only five minutes away, and shoved him into a small interrogation room. Rogers and the African followed him in. Somewhere a bell was insistently ringing.
Rogers sat down and looked him over. He was tanned and healthy-looking. His manner wasn’t hurried, but he had shrewd eyes, like he was used to being lied to and didn’t much care for it. His partner was powerfully built. Short, stubbly beard, close-cropped hair. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with him.
“For the record this is Detective Kyle and I’m Detective Superintendent Rogers and we’re questioning Alex Muscroft and this is being recorded.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at Alex. “So, why don’t you tell us what happened?”
“Did you kill her?” asked the African.
Rogers shrugged apologetically.
“Kyle gets a little impatient.”
Kyle looked like he got more than impatient. He looked like he was doing violence to his suit just breathing.
“Did you kill Sammy Weiss?” asked Rogers in an even voice.
“Of course I didn’t. You know I didn’t.”
“How do we know that?” asked Kyle.
“Because you knew Sammy was dead when I came downstairs.”
“Got you there, Kyle,” said Rogers, enjoying his partner’s discomfort.
“He might have come back,” said Kyle, not enjoying the role of straight man.
“What, to check if she was still dead?” asked Alex.
This time Rogers laughed out loud. “You’re a comedian,” he said.
Kyle stared at Alex like he had some things he would like to do later. Suddenly his face cleared. “Oh, that’s right,” he said, brightening, “he was on the Brenda Woolley thing.”
“Kyle loves Brenda Woolley.”
“Yeah. Well she’d love Kyle.”
Kyle looked flattered.
“What I don’t understand,” said Rogers, “is how come you never called the police when you found her?”
“I was coming downstairs to get Dunphy. He said he was an ex-cop.”
“Who’s this Dunphy again?”
“A cabdriver.”
“He told you he’s an ex-cop.”
“Yes.”
Kyle hit a few keys on the computer and showed Rogers the screen. Rogers turned back to Alex and said, “Would it surprise you to learn there are no licensed cabs in this colony driven by ex-cops called Dunphy?”
It did. They registered his surprise.
A young man came into the room and whispered urgently in Rogers’s ear. He frowned and rose.
“Excuse me a minute.” His chair squeaked as he pushed it back. “Come with me, Kyle, we got a problem.”
In the distance more bells were ringing.
After a couple of minutes Rogers put his head round the door.
“Okay, Mr. Muscroft, you can go. We got an emergency here.”
The lamp above his head was swinging wildly.
“You’d better make it back to your ship and get the hell out of here.”
“What about Sammy?”
“I’m sorry about your friend, but we got a major catastrophe on our hands. The dome’s punctured, we’re leaking, and it’s growing every minute.”
Something had pierced the thin membrane of their artificial sky. Their precious atmosphere was leaking away into space. If they could caulk the hole, well and good. If not, things looked pretty bleak. The whole place would collapse.
The station was in chaos. Emergency bells ringing everywhere. “Ninety percent atmosphere,” yelled an emergency worker. “We got time.” He raced out of the door.
“Two percent leaking every five minutes. Sure, we’ve got bags of time,” said a sharp brunette working a bank of screens. “Let’s do lunch.”