The Dirty and the Dead by Eric Thomson

Author:Eric Thomson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: canadian science fiction author, science fiction female main character, science fiction special forces, science fiction organised crime, politican corruption, future war crimes
Publisher: Sanddiver Books Inc.
Published: 2022-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

— Twenty-One —

Arno and I enjoyed a predinner drink in my suite’s sitting room. It wasn’t quite as nice as the bar, but it would do. Destine and the sergeants were off on their own again, and, if nothing else, their being in cahoots could only help the investigation’s technical aspect.

“You know, Chief,” Arno said after savoring a sip of his meal in a bottle, “I’m feeling vaguely insulted by Olrik right now. His presumption is pushing us out of public spaces, and that’s just not right. You called him one of the anointed earlier. How about one of the utterly entitled?”

“That too. But acting like the unmovable object to his unstoppable force isn’t the way I want to play it at the moment.”

He cocked a bushy eyebrow at me. “Not that I consider his sort an unstoppable force — an unbearable farce, perhaps — but you prepared a plan for him, did you?”

“I’m always planning. And in Olrik’s case, I intend to keep him as far away from us and the case as possible. He’s not a material witness, nor can he present evidence, and he definitely has no standing.”

“I’ll wager next month’s pay and allowances that he firmly believes he has standing.” Arno, eyes twinkling with mischief, raised his glass and downed the rest of the Imperial Stout.

“Pass.” I finished my gin, and we both stood. “Hotel restaurant, or do we show a sense of adventure like our juniors?”

Arno shrugged. “I didn’t go through all the appealing plates in their evening meal menu yet, and what I’ve tasted so far was more than acceptable. Besides, I enjoy the subdued surroundings, and I daresay Destine and the sergeants are more inclined to livelier places.”

“The hotel restaurant it is, but I think we might broaden our horizons tomorrow evening.”

“Deal, Chief. I’ll ask Destine if she has any recommendations.”

The restaurant was as quiet as usual, with dampeners keeping the sound of conversations within every table’s virtual bubble, which was just as well since almost three-quarters of the main room was occupied by people in business or evening clothes. I enjoyed the elegant atmosphere even more than the lack of background noise, but then I’ve always been fond of wood paneling, soft lighting, and tasteful decorations such as paintings by local artists and large images of Novaya Sibir’s wild landscape.

The virtual maître d’hotel directed us to one of the smaller side rooms and a table by a west-facing window, which gave us a last glimpse of the now-vanished sun’s glow behind the horizon. We consulted the holographic menu that popped up the moment we sat. So far, I’d been sampling the special of the day and hadn’t been disappointed. Sure the price was more than what the Constabulary paid us as a meal allowance, but I could afford it. My personal expenses were limited, and an assistant commissioner’s salary was generous. I could afford it, along with a glass or two of Siberiak wine.

Our drinks and the appetizers — smoked fish with

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