Chapter Eleven: Until Proven Innocent
I should be savoring this moment.
Anaya folded her arms and frowned as she watched her prisoner through the two-way mirror. Finally, after decades of dead ends and near misses and technicalities and tied hands, she had Deena T'Neri shackled and sitting in an interrogation room. Anaya should have been jumping for joy. This was the moment of triumph she'd begun to despair of ever achieving.
But something soured it. Something kept her lip curled and her jaw clenched, and it wasn't just the sense of justice almost, but not yet, served.
Maybe it was the anonymous tipster who'd given her the evidence that had broken the case wide open. Anaya didn't trust anyone who wouldn't even give her a name. She had checked it all out personally, though, and it looked legitimate—legitimate enough to convince the magistrate to issue a search warrant, anyway. And what her officers had found in their search had borne it all out. But still, not knowing the identity of this mysterious benefactor left a sour taste in her mouth.
Maybe it was the conversation she'd had with Maralei Calisi. Damn it, what had she been thinking? If that girl ever grew a spine and thought about it long enough, she could sue Anaya's ass into oblivion, and the whole Nos Astra police department with her. Anaya should have stopped her questioning the instant Calisi asked for counsel. But no, she'd been so eager to finally, finally nail T'Neri to the wall that she'd let the rules fly out the window, along with any sense of ethics she'd ever claimed to have. If Calisi thought to complain, there would be serious disciplinary action in Anaya's future—if she were lucky. If she were unlucky, the whole case could get thrown out.
Or maybe it was T'Neri herself. Anaya had seen plenty of guilty people try to act innocent, and they always had a tell. A nervous tic, or a too-casual attitude, or the classic, wide-eyed "Who, me?" But T'Neri was acting more… impatient. And her behavior during her arrest had been strange as well. She'd been frightened and angry at first—almost everyone was when the cuffs came out—but when Anaya had told her the charges, she'd seemed almost… relieved. She'd stopped resisting, calmly maintained her innocence, and allowed the officers to lead her away with no further fuss.
It didn't make any sense.
Whatever the cause, Anaya found her enthusiasm for this long-awaited moment severely dampened, and that in itself angered her further. That, and T'Neri herself. Though there was no clock in the room, she kept looking around for one as if out of habit. She leaned her chin on one hand, drumming her fingers on the table with the other. She stared expectantly at the mirror as if she could see through it, giving Anaya the unsettling sensation they were actually making eye contact. Her whole attitude was, well, bored.
Fine, then, Anaya thought with a snarl. You want something interesting? Let's make this interesting.
Anaya scooped up a handful of datapads, straightened her jacket, and marched into the interrogation room. She let the door slide shut just behind her, and stood there as T'Neri turned slowly to face her. Now they did make eye contact, and Anaya held her gaze in silence. She allowed a smile to spread across her face. Yes, she was going to enjoy this very much.
She waited until the silence stretched and became brittle, and T'Neri's bored confidence began to waver. When the cold steel in those bright purple eyes turned to uncertainty, Anaya approached the table with long, deliberate steps. She sat on the edge of it, just inside T'Neri's personal space, looming over her and forcing the smile from her face before it could become a maniacal grin.
"Fifty. Years," she began.
T'Neri blinked, but didn't answer.
Anaya stood again and began to pace back and forth on the other side of the table. "Fifty years since you're questionably legal activities first pinged my radar. Fifty years, I've had my eyes on you. Fifty years, I've been trying to figure out what it is about you, in particular, that rubs me the wrong way." She stopped and turned toward T'Neri, who only watched impassively. "I'll admit, I've never trusted information brokers. You people think you can control the whole galaxy by controlling the flow of information—and with the right secrets in your possession, maybe you can. And nobody should have that much power."
T'Neri spread her hands as far as her shackles would allow. "And yet I sit here in chains."
"Yes, you do," Anaya replied, with perhaps a bit too much relish. "The information you sell is a weapon, T'Neri. And someone has been using it to great effect."
"I see," T'neri said coolly. She leaned forward and folded her hands on the table. "Tell me, Detective: if someone buys a gun and shoots another person dead, do you hold the manufacturer of the weapon responsible? The shop owner who ordered it? The clerk who sold it? No, they have nothing to do with what the shooter did with their product. The information I trade in is the same." She shrugged. "I provide a service. What my clients do with it is none of my concern."
"All right, I'll gove you that much," Anaya bit out. She slammed the stack of datapads onto the table and spread them out where T'Neri cold read them. "But it doesn't explain any of this. Tens of thousands of credits funneled into a secret account. Surveillance software planted in private computers. Direct correspondence with mercenaries, pirates, and assassins, resulting in at least thirteen deaths over the past four years that can be linked directly. To. You." She allowed herself a toothy grin as she opened a file on one of the pads. "And then there's this."
A video file began to play, showing a golden-scaled female drell in a rumpled nightgown scowling into the camera. "Do you know what time it is here?" she demanded. "He went to bed hours ago—completely exhausted, by the way. And he has school tomorrow. No, I'm not going to wake him."
And off-screen, a deep, male voice answered. "I… of course."
T'Neri's eyes widened. Obviously, she knew that voice. "Impossible," she whispered.
I've got you now.
The female drell's expression softened, and she sighed. "Just come home safe. He needs you. We both do." She shook her head. "I love you, Thane."
"And I you, siha. Always and forever," the other voice replied. "May the shield of Arashu protect you."
T'Neri glared up at Anaya, eyes flashing, as the screen went blank. "No who's surveilling private communications?"
Her seemingly genuine indignation gave Anaya a moment's pause, but she covered her momentary surprise with a sneer. "You are," she growled. "This file came from your own computer. My techs traced the call all the way to Kahje, to a settlement called"—she checked her notes—"Masav Nyahir, and the home of Thane and Irikah Krios."
Though she fought to remain calm, T'Neri was very clearly rattled.
Anaya went on. "I checked up on them, of course. Sere Krios is a surprisingly difficult man to pin down, but I did manage to track down one of his aliases. And it seems this Thane Krios is the real identity of your friend Tannor Nuara."
T'Neri raised an eyebrow, her face carefully blank. "Many of my clients operate under false names. In my field, it is poor business practice to insist upon real ones."
"But, see, now we have a problem. Because this video was recorded several days after hospital records seem to indicate he died." Anaya folded her arms. "And yet the staff I spoke to seem to remember discharging him into your care. Want to explain that one to me?"
"Not particularly," T'Neri said dryly. "I don't see how my friend's personal call to his family, or any discrepancies in his medical record, are relevant here."
"They're relevant when they prove you've been knowingly harboring an assassin. Do the words 'accessory to murder' mean anything to you? Or perhaps 'aiding and abetting'?" At T'Neri's dramatically widened eyes, Anaya smirked derisively. "Oh, come on, info broker, you can't possibly expect me to believe you had no idea who he is." She leaned forward bracing her hands on the table. "In fact, I believe you hired him in the first place."
Either she was an excellent actress, or else T'Neri truly was taken aback by that accusation. She shook her head with an incredulous laugh. "You can't possibly have the evidence to support that, Anaya. You're reaching, and you know it."
"Do I?" Anaya opened a file on another datapad and slid it toward her. "This was pulled from your 'business's' private server. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe it's a contract."
T'Neri read the email in silence, sick understanding dawning on her face as she doubtless began to see just how neatly she'd been caught. She covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh," she whispered tonelessly. She set the datapad down and began to look through the others, pulling up file after file, nodding with resigned horror as the mountain of evidence against her grew tall and overwhelming before her eyes. "Oh. I see."
Anaya activated her omni-tool, preparing to record. "Are you ready to make a confession?"
"Thane!" Deena sprang to her feet when she saw him approaching her cell. "How did you get in here? Anaya's made you; she's probably got the whole police department on alert!"
He nodded. "I cannot stay long, but do not worry about me. Are you all right?"
She certainly did not look 'all right.' Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes feverishly bright. She wrung her hands nervously, so tense he feared she might break her own fingers. "I'm fine," she said unconvincingly. "Well, I'm not fine, but… they didn't hurt me." She looked away, her entire posture eloquent of shame. "Thane, I… I'm sorry. I just learned that Cecilia's been feeding Ceris information for years. She had everything. All my files, my emails, my accounts. She's tapped my comm channels. Cece gave her full access to all my systems. And Ceris used all of it to frame me for everything she's made Cece do."
"I know," said Thane. "I have spoken with Cecilia; it was she who informed me of your arrest, and the charges against you. I've already reached out to some of my other contacts—they'll have you freed soon."
"No." Deena shook her head. "I can take care of this. One benefit of my profession is access to the best legal representation in the sector. I've got lawyers who could convince a jury to convict a Justicar."
"I should very much like to see that."
"To be honest, I'm more concerned about you," she said. "Anaya's located your family, Thane. She knows who they are, where they live. Ceris gave her enough to track them down!"
At another time, that news might have been terrifying. And though it was still a matter of some concern, the worst had already occurred when Ceris had learned of them. The thought of local law enforcement knowing about them seemed far less worrisome by comparison. "I do not believe the Nos Astra police to be a threat to my family, Deena," he said gently. "That Anaya had learned who I am is potentially, hmm, problematic for me, but I do not believe Irikah and Kolyat to be in any greater danger." He offered her a wry smile. "And I am well practiced in avoiding the authorities."
Despite herself, Deena chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you'd have to be." She drew a deep, steadying breath, and let it out slowly. Then she raised her eyes to his. "You said you spoke with Cecilia? Is she all right? Where is she?"
"She is unharmed, for now," Thane replied. "Some of Ceris's men apprehended her in the street shortly after your arrest. She could not—or would not—tell me where they took her, but I do believe she was hiding the call from them. She ended it rather abruptly." He shook his head. "I attempted to have the call traced, but my contacts have thus far been unsuccessful. Did you make any progress on Captain Zensha's omni-tool?"
Deena's shoulders slumped. "Only a little," she admitted. "I think Ceris is—or was, anyway—somewhere in the Terminus Systems, but that's as far as I got. I'm sorry."
"It is more than we had," he reassured her. "A small lead is better than none. I will find her, Deena."
"I know you will." She gave him a small smile. "I've no idea how, but you will. Let it never be said that Thane Krios let a target get away."
"I can walk on my own, you stupid mechanical fuckers," Cecilia spat, struggling uselessly against the two mechs frog-marching her down the corridor. Metal hands maintained their crushing grip on her arms, and metal feet kept up their perfectly even unison rhythm on the deck plates. Even if she were to go limp and make them drag her, she suspected, that grip and that rhythm would remain unchanged. Flesh and bone could be tricked, surprised, even reasoned with. Hydraulics and steel were another matter entirely.
A door hissed open just ahead, and the corridor opened up into a room. A large room, from the way the mechs' footsteps echoed, but not an empty one. A cargo bay, maybe? There was little time to get her bearings as the mechs hauled her forward a few steps, then released her, stepped back, and fell silent.
For all her bluster before, now she was stuck. In an unfamiliar and probably hostile place, without her cane, with barely a sound around her, she had no way to determine her surroundings. A legion of mechs could have guns aimed at her, programmed to fire if she approached them. She could be standing at the entrance to a maze of crates and equipment. She could be steps away from running smack into a containment field or tripping over a pile of spare parts. Hell, she could be trapped in a containment field. Ceris could have any number of nasty surprises in store.
So she stood still, straining to hear anything over the omnipresent hum of the ship's engines. Anything to giver a clue as to where she was and what—or who—might be in here with her. But barely a sound reached her. A soft hiss that might have been a breath, or just the ventilation system. The barest scrape that might be a boot on deck plates, or cargo shifting in a crate. The creak of leather so quiet it might have been her imagination.
Was that a breeze on her face? The tingle of charged biotics somewhere near? Was the faint but familiar scent of alien flowers mixed with gun oil and sweat really there, or only the invention of her increasingly panicked mind?
"I believe you humans have a legend," a voice purred, so close she felt lips brush her ear.
Cecilia jumped and bit back a cry, her heart hammering. "Fuck, Ceris," she snarled. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Must you play these stupid games?"
But Ceris continued as though Cecilia hadn't spoken. She circled Cecilia like a vulture. "The story of the prodigal child," she said, "who ran away from home and forgot herself. She spent everything she had on her vices, on the pleasures of the moment. And when she'd finally lost everything to her own excess, she came crawling back to her family, begging for forgiveness. Have I got it right?"
"Close enough," Cecilia ground out.
Ceris chuckled darkly. "Well, it seems my prodigal daughter has returned to me," she said. "But I'm afraid I'm not inclined to be as forgiving as the parent of legend."
"I'm not your daughter, Ceris."
"No," Ceris snapped, stopping directly in front of her, her voice suddenly sharp and angry. "You're right, you're not. My daughter would never have betrayed me like you did. My daughter died in the line of duty. My daughter was far braver than you can ever claim to be." She stepped closer, so close Cecilia could feel the warmth of her body. Cool fingers traced the curve of Cecilia's cheek. "Why would you do this to me?" Ceris whispered, almost pleading. Her voice wavered as if she were trying not to cry.
Before she could think twice, Cecilia slapped Ceris's hand away. "Spare me the crocodile tears," she spat. "I'm through being your lackey."
"Oh, you are, now?" Ceris resumed her circling, letting her hand trail over Cecilia's shoulders as she moved. "And you think I'll just… let you go? No, my dear, I have other plans for you. But first, I need to know exactly what you told your lady wife." She stopped behind Cecilia, gripping her shoulders with a light but implacable touch.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Cecilia shot back. Her entire body trembled with what she told herself was rage.
Ceris let out a disappointed sigh. "You're going to make me take it, aren't you? Careful, my dear. One might start to think you liked it."
Cecilia shuddered as Ceris's fingers tightened on her shoulders and Ceris's mind began to probe hers. Then she was paralyzed, helpless in the asari's thrall, utterly unable to move, to speak.
Still, she fought, as she always did, struggling desperately to force Ceris out, to tear herself away. But Ceris punched through her defenses almost instantly, and Cecilia screamed as jagged lines of white-hot agony blazed through her head, overwhelming thought and reason and purpose. Ceris ripped into her mind like a ravenous dog, and Cecilia could do nothing to stop her.
