The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 2

Posted by Verity Starchaser

"I believe this qualifies as strange," said LYRA, as the Swallow left the Pitcairns in her wake.
"Apart from the fact that I just got a text from a dead man in the middle of nowhere with no phone?" asked Lee. He was scribbling furiously on a notepad. "I can't wait to hear this."
"What gets me is that he had a tattoo on the sole of his foot. Who gets a tattoo on the sole of his foot?" asked Sabrina Drake.
"Someone who has secrets," I murmured. The text message problem was easy enough, although it had me a little worried. But I could not for the life of me figure out where I had seen that tattoo design before. A coiled, yellow snake with green eyes. Was it a tong sign? Surely not. There was no way Thomas Rhegin was part of any gang.
"When everyone has finished their conversations," chirped LYRA. "I believe you may find this interesting."
"Sorry, LYRA," I said into my smartphone, and put it on the control panel of the Swallow where everyone could see. The cutesy, anime-style cat which LYRA had chosen as her avatar popped up on the screen. At least, LYRA was at pains to point out, she might have chosen it. As an A.I., LYRA was never sure that she had a choice about anything. She wasn't even sure that she really existed.
"Professor Rhegin, who you all seem to be certain is dead, has just been tagged on the web."
I raised an eyebrow. "Show me," I said.
The picture of an ornate ballroom appeared non the screen. A beautiful Indian woman in a scarlet sari, and an older man in an expensive tuxedo smiled at the camera, and in the left of the shot was, unmistakably, Thomas Rhegin and his wife, Jane. All four held flutes of Bucks Fizz.
"When was this posted?" I asked.
"Four minutes ago. According to the image data, it was taken in Mumbai, at 23.29 local time last night."
"Not possible. He would have been killed not much more than an hour after that."
"You can't get from here to Mumbai in under three hours, even in a Whisperjet," said Sabrina with certainty.
"Another picture has just been posted. Again, Professor Rhegin is tagged. Apparently there was a reception last night for a new joint department. Professor Rhegin and guest were in attendance."
Lee threw his notepad on the floor. "Oh, this just gets better. Our dead professor, who can text without a phone from a desert island with no signal, is Schrödinger's cat as well?"
"Not to mention in two places on different sides of the globe at the same time," I said. "Pick up your notebook, Lee. You will need to add Indian local time to your timeline. The game is afoot."
There was a pause. "That line does not work for you," said Sabrina.

The sun was at its height when the Swallow touched down in Mumbai. The city was teeming with people and with the sweltering heat it felt like a pressure cooker. We found the conference centre, a Raj era building that might one day have been a rich Brit's town house. Lee and I went in, Sabrina went off to find us somewhere to stay. The conference delegates were, we soon discovered, on their lunch. Most had gone back to their rooms to siesta. A buffet table was laid in the main ballroom, which we immediately recognised from the photos LYRA had found earlier.

A tall Caucasian man with dark hair approached us. He was in his early thirties, held himself confidently, and  somehow conveyed the hint of a well-muscled body underneath his loose-fitting clothes. I smiled at him.
"Good morning," I said, shaking his hand. "Verity Starchaser, New Houston Gazette. I'm doing a piece on Professor Thomas Rhegin and I'm due to meet him, but I'm afraid I'm very late. Have you seen him?" The man's handshake reminded me very much of playing 'mercy' with my brother as a teenager.
"I'm afraid I don't know the gentleman in question," he replied. "The delegates are reconvening in fifteen minutes for the afternoon sessions. I'm afraid you will have to leave then."
There was a coldness in his voice that took me off guard. "Very well," I said evenly, and walked off.
"Lee," I whispered. "Talk to some of the delegates. See if anyone knows anything. In a few minutes, go to the toilet. Make sure Muscles doesn't see you. Wait there until they all come back and see if you can see Rhegin anywhere." As I walked away, I could hear Lee muttering "Muscles" under his breath.

I questioned a few of the delegates myself. All of them confirmed that Professor Rhegin was, indeed, at the soiree the previous evening. One said she thought he had left at about one. None of them had seen the professor that morning. All the while I could sense that Muscles was watching me intently. I looked over at Lee, made eye contact, and nodded slightly. Then I turned, found Muscles glaring at me, flashed him a smile and then winked. As I did, I stepped briskly into an adjoining room.

As I had planned, Muscles followed. "Is this not the way out?" I asked innocently.
"No," said Muscles, and folded his arms.
"Whoops. I'll come back later, when the conference is finished," I said, as I exited the room. "Perhaps I'll see you then?"

I was delighted to see that Lee had taken my cue and was nowhere to be seen. I wasted no time in getting out of the conference centre. I walked across the street, bought myself a cappuccino, and sat down to wait. After about half an hour I was considering going in to find him, when I got a text alert. It was from Lee, and read: "I'm on to something. Meet me at the Viceroy Hotel in an hour. Lee."

When I looked up, I saw Jane Rhegin, the Professor's wife, crossing the street.
"Verity," she began before I could greet her, "I'm told you've been looking for my husband. Have you seen him anywhere? He left our bedroom whilst I was asleep last night and I haven't seen him all morning."
I stared at the middle-aged lady. Her lips were pursed, her posture defensive, her eyes alert. Every muscle was taut. She was a coiled spring. With every fibre in my being, I did not want to tell her - but I found that I could not bring myself to lie to the poor woman.
"Sorry, Jane," I started, but her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped, and the rest of the sentence died in my throat. I looked deeply into my empty coffee cup and wondered how on Earth I was going to ask any further questions. But when I looked up, Jane Rhegin was scribbling something on a paper napkin. When she finished, she pushed it towards me, and her face had become a stoical mask.
"Call me if you hear anything," she said evenly, and rose. Before she turned to leave she actually managed a wan smile.

As she walked away, I looked at the napkin. It said: "Trust no one."

The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 1

Posted by Lee Montana

How my old university professor could have been lying dead on a tiny pacific island, and drinking cheap wine with a hundred academics at a conference in Mumbai, at quarter past eight on January 10th, was the biggest puzzle - or so I thought.

I got the text from him at half past nine that evening. "I'm in the pitcairns. Help pls rhegin" is how it ran. Which explains how Captain Drake, my employer, Verity Starchaser, and myself, found ourselves on a beach on a tiny, deserted strip of land in the Pitcairns, staring at Professor Rhegin's corpse, early the following morning.

He'd been shot just below the ribcage, where a small red stain marked his corderoy shirt. Drake said it was made by a small calibre gun with no stopping power, the disapproval in her voice tinged with sadness. Otherwise he might have been laid out for his funeral, apart from his left shoe, which was a few feet up the beach.

"Poor Thomas," said Verity with a sigh. Then, she frowned. Kneeling down, she put her hand on his foot. "His sock is soaking wet," she said. "How long ago did you get that text, Lee?"
"About five hours ago."
Verity looked at the waves rolling up the beach. "He was already dead by then," she said.
"How does a dead man send a text?" scoffed Drake.
"The real question is, how does anyone send a text from a deserted island?" asked Verity.
I looked at my phone. No signal whatsoever. I saw Drake do the same, and tut.
Verify was now going through the dead man's pockets. "Here is a puzzler for you to solve, Lee," she said with a smile. "How does a dead man send a text message from a desert island, when he has no phone? Should be easy for a man with two PhDs."
"I only have one PhD," I corrected her. "Double major in Social History and Creative Writing."
"And we are very proud of you."
"We need to get off this island," grunted Drake. "We need to inform the police, otherwise we will have a lot of explaining to do."
"I agree," said Verity.
As they were leaving, a sudden thought struck me, and I bent down and pulled off the wet sock.
"Are you mad, Montana?" growled Captain Drake. "You are interfering with a crime scene!"
I stared at the sole of Professor Thomas Rhegin's left foot for a long moment. Well, I thought. That is not what I expected to see.

Dramatis Personae

Verity Starchaser

Verity Starchaser, the thrice Hippolyta Award nominated reporter, writes for the New Houston Chronicle, the Persephone Gazette and Zoenomie Magazine, on a variety of topics, including intergalactic travel, Terran politics, and 24th Century Lifestyle. Her work has been variously described as "bold", "polemical" and "outrageous".

Asked about her approach to Journalism, she has said: "there really is no substitute for putting yourself right in the thick of the action. Writing is all about presence, after all."

'Al' Starchaser

Al is very clear that he is proud of his much better known, and more successful, younger sibling. Although he has admitted on occasion that the name 'Starchaser' has become as much of a burden as it is a benefit. On the one hand, it opens doors. On the other, it makes anonymity that much harder to achieve, which can sometimes be necessary for any amateur treasure-hunter - a label which Al himself regards as horribly pretentious. He prefers to give his profession as 'student'. Al and Verity's father, on the other hand, prefers to describe him as a 'dilettante'.

(Dr) Lee Montana

Lee Montana is Verity's administrator, fixer, web manager, diarist and sometime cameraman. He graduated from Tycho City Community University with a double PhD in Social History and Creative Writing, around the time Verity was at work on her now-infamous expose of the faculty. He started working for her shortly afterward.

Of Lee, Verity says: "he's an absolute star.  He works like a Trojan, bless him. What would I do without him?" Lee also manages Verity's blog, "Chasing Verity".

LYRA

LYRA is an A.I. (she prefers the term 'Synthetic Consciousness') who is currently in residence on Verity's smartphone. She has a predilection for philosophy, and is often unsure as to whether her thoughts are real or merely a simulation. Despite this existential obsession, her calculations have helped Verity out of more than one tight spot.

Captain Sabrina Drake

Sabrina Drake, captain of the Swallow, believes in free trade, democracy, and the right to bear arms. She has been an itinerant space trader for a continuous period of five years, apart from two weeks during which she was stripped of her licence. This followed an incident involving an attempt to impound the Swallow in a New Delhi Spaceport, leading to what the local papers described as a 'fracas'. Fortunately, it emerged that the men she had shot were, in fact, terrorists posing as law enforcement officers and her licence was reinstated. Her association with Verity Starchaser dates from around that time.

Commander Hoshi Hanta, SS, DSO, LOM.

Commander Hanta is the Terran Military Attache to Interpol. During the course of her many investigations into intergalactic organised crime, she has crossed paths with Verity on a number of occasions. Whilst it is safe to say that no love has been lost between the two (a pseudonymous article describing Hanta as "a useful idiot" was never formally attributed to Verity), Hanta has been forced to admit that the "wet, useless pen-pushing liberal" has, on occasion, been useful to her.