The Second Sphere

A few hours later, and a couple dozen floors above the Intelligence Unit, Bryant and I got off the elevator and trotted down a barren gray hallway.

When I thought of private investigation, I imagined long nights in cars outside of apartment buildings in terrible neighborhoods, taking pictures with cameras with telephoto lenses of men cheating on their wives. It was a few steps below the intelligence business, certainly. But the general parameters were the same. At least that’s what I told myself.

As we entered the conference room, I exchanged glances with two figures, trying to determine whether either was worth a damn. The man looked like a dullard, with a small round head, a pointy beard that jutted from his chin and girlish hands. The woman had a strong angular face, beaky nose, prim set mouth and long, black hair. She was pretty like a character from a Dickens novel. These were odd transfer choices, to say the least.

“Bryant,” the man said as he rose from his seat. His voice was deeper than I thought it might be, but with an accent underneath that I couldn’t quite place. He bent over as he shook hands with my boss. “And this must be Orion,” he said, a smile blooming on his face. “Nelson Hur, PI Director. Please, have a seat.”

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with us,” I said. “We’re extraordinarily busy right now and we can use your help.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Nelson said.

“I hope you know how much we,” I said, turning to Bryant, “appreciate your time and cooperation.”

“We appreciate having the opportunity,” Nelson said as he looked at the woman, who remained a sideshow in the conversation. “I’m so sorry,” Nelson said suddenly. “Let me introduce Malinda Brunt to you. Malinda is one of the best we’ve got. Been with the PI division about a year or so, but she’s really taken to the work. I think you’ll find that she can provide you with what you need.”

“If she’s good at sitting in one spot for a prolonged period of time and listening to exactly what I have to say, then she’ll work out perfectly,” I said. A minor tremor struck the woman’s face as though I kicked her under the table.

“Malinda Brunt,” the woman said as she stood to shake my hand. I wasn’t a small guy. Not at all. And yet my hand felt like it was in the paw of some enormous, inhuman creature. I felt the strength in her hand, saw the twinkle of confidence in her brown eyes, and knew that she was used to making her own decisions. I hoped that she wouldn’t mind taking orders for the next day or so.

“Nice to meet you,” I said as we took our seats. “Let’s get started. We don’t have a lot of time to prep, and I’ve got a million other obligations. So, here’s our target.”

A man appeared before us on the link-up. He was unremarkable, a handsome transfer with blond hair that hung to his shoulders and a contemplative face. “This is Victor Newberry. You’ll have an opportunity to go over this information over the rest of the day, Malinda, so don’t worry about getting everything right now. Mr. Newberry’s name might sound familiar because he’s married to Olga Dahlgren, daughter of Leonidis Dahlgren, the founder and funder of the Dahlgren Institute of Peace Studies. He also happens to be an editor at The Worlds.

“Newberry is into some high-level information that has great value for the Intelligence Division. My hope is to get approved for Source access before the meeting that I have with him this evening. I’ll need you, Malinda, to make sure that trace is up and running until I get back and help me gather any information that we might find during the evening.”

“When does this start?” Malinda asked.

“This jumps off tonight around nine. The Source trace permission is only going to last about forty-eight hours. Hopefully, during that time, we’ll get enough to figure out whether he’s someone we can use or not.”

“Is he already here?” She asked.

“I believe so, yes,” I said.

She asked questions. In any other situation, that might’ve been a special, perhaps important trait. But for this work, I didn’t need an ambitious toddler.

“This seems like cake,” she said.

I didn’t like her overconfidence.

“I just want to make sure that this is something you’re comfortable with,” I said.

A smile fluttered across her face, and she folded her hands under her chin. “Like I said, I think I can handle it.”

Bryant cleared his throat. “Well, good. You have a more in depth briefing package at your link-up. Orion? Shall we let her get started going over it?”

“I’d like to spend a few minutes getting acquainted with her,” I said. There was a sparkle in this woman’s eye that I needed to extinguish.

“Sure,” Nelson said. “Take as much time as you want.

When the two men were gone, I opened my mouth to set the tone for this arrangement. But before I could get a word from my lips, she began talking.

“So, Orion Cox,” Malinda said. My name sounded like a bad word coming from her. “You’ve got a reputation around these parts.”

“Well, I hope it’s more good than bad.”

“From what I’ve read, it’s been pretty good until now,” she said. “New Mumbai’s been pretty rough on you.”

“And how’s that?” I asked, wondering how she knew anything about my troubles.

“People hear things.”

The corporate bureaucrats were in love with gossip and innuendo. I knew that. But still, this familiarity and breezy conversation was a bit surprising.

“I wish I could say that I knew anything about you, but I’d be lying,” I said, a bit of hot sauce in my voice.

She narrowed her eyes at me, a subdued smirk on her face as though she was trying to guess what was in my head.

“You like your programmed enhancements, don’t you, Orion?”

“Excuse me?” I asked as my pulse chugged faster.

“I know a kindred spirit when I see one,” she said.

There was this sick twisted thought that popped in my head about getting her high and seeing all of the ways I could push her toward losing her job. Underneath that persona I was sure there was someone wild and self-destructive.

“I suppose you don’t think very highly of Newberry, since he’s pretty hard on Laslow.” She was digging her fingers into places that she had no business going.

“I don’t agree with him politically. But I don’t know the man. It’s hard to say that I don’t think much of him.”

Her mouth formed an o-shape as though she waited for words to come out. None did.

“I don’t have time to find someone else to do this job. So, I’m trusting in your over-confidence. This isn’t hard work. But it requires someone paying attention. If you can do that, then we’ll get along fine. I’ll send you all the instructions you need for accessing the Source trace before this afternoon. Take a gander at the briefing booklet you’ve been sent and feel free to come down and talk to me if you have any questions.”

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong,” she said. But the look on her face did not change. “Just a little nervous, I guess.” But there was nothing about her appearance that indicated she was sorry, no change in her face or slump of her shoulders.

“I need someone tonight,” I said. “If you can do this and follow orders, maybe there’ll be other opportunities for you.” That was a lie, but a lie that I hoped would motivate her.

“I’ll get it done,” she said. “I promise.” We shook hands again and forced smiles.

She would do the work adequately for the next day or so. After that, I hoped she would recede into the PI unit, never to be seen again.