As tempting as it was to stand there and puzzle over
whatever strange series of events had caused such a strange outcome,
Laith had to move quickly. Whether PATET recognized the fingerprints or
not, there was still the matter of Aster Lockwood. As far as Detective
Laith was concerned, he was his first and only lead so far.
And he wasn’t answering his Slate.
“I’m going to find the husband,” Laith told the two forensic
analysts. Even if he wasn’t the killer – the prints would have been
matched to him otherwise – then at the very least, he might be able to
shed some light on his wife’s murder. Maybe he knew her enemies. Maybe
she’d told him something important prior to her murder. Even the
smallest clue could lead to big breakthroughs. “Meanwhile, I’d
appreciate it if you ran those fingerprints again, just in case. Maybe
there’s a glitch in the system. If it still doesn’t come up with
anything even then…” Laith felt his jaw set. If it didn’t come up with
anything even then, they’d be dealing with a range of equally terrible
possibilities.
“We’ll let you know,” Izuna said, nodding.
Laith thanked them for their work and left them to search
the rest of the house for any forensic clues he may have missed in his
cursory investigation of the premises. He slipped into his trusty Camino
Forest, with its heavily secured panels that made it look a bit clunky
but feel extremely safe, and gave it a new order: “Take me to Greenland
Farm, please.”
“Understood,” it replied, and soon they were on their way
again, the autopilot making use of the most efficient route based on its
analysis of PATET’s live traffic monitoring system. They dipped into
one of the A-lanes once they had left the beautiful gated community that
was The Hills, and as they went below-ground, Laith was plunged into a
tunneled world of passing lights and peaceful silence.
And then he was above ground again, the Camino Forest making
its way towards the area known to most as The Farms, with farm after
farm stretching out towards the sun in a range of striking vertical
arrangements of lush greenery. It’s always a feast for the eyes,
Laith thought, admiring the view. These so-called farms rarely, if
ever, used completely natural organisms anymore, but he enjoyed the
sensation he had when he gazed upon them from below. These towering
green giants were one of the many parts of Heliopolis that made it what
it was – the sustainable, eco-friendly megalopolis that it had been
created to be. Compared to the cities of old – what were now
collectively termed the Ruins – Heliopolis, along with its sister
cities, was a marvel.
Greenland Farm was easy to pick out from the group of
vertical farms. Its helical structure, which made use of the curves and
spaces of its shaping to create a set of floral falls all the way up its
length, was impossible to mistake. Not to mention it was an integral
part of the company’s branding – its logo itself was a green helix, a
reminder of the company’s promise to create only the best genetically
modified organisms – fruits, vegetables, and herbs – with the most
effective nutritional value, taste, and at the best size. It also sold
its produce at an affordable price, so that many residents of Heliopolis
found its offerings extremely accessible. In fact, Greenland Farm made
quite a splash a while back, if Laith remembered correctly. Something
about bursting onto the scene with low prices and great produce to
match, essentially forcing other farms to lower their own prices in
order to compete. That had ruffled some corporate feathers, for sure.
Laith didn’t particularly mind that. He, along with the rest
of the inhabitants of Heliopolis, was grateful for the decrease in food
prices. The other farms had been, up until the introduction of
Greenland Farm, serving up their genetically modified produce at
relatively high prices, making it harder for the general population to
afford buying too much. Instead, Laith remembered that he and his wife,
along with many of his friends and relatives, used to purchase cheaper,
more filling foods as their staples – ingredients for home-made breads
and cakes, pastas and noodles, and various pre-made sauces to go along
with everything. Now that they could get more fresh food for less money,
it was easier to have a balanced diet, and he’d noticed his own
physical condition improving significantly as a result – not to mention
his receding waistline. So, as far as he was concerned, Greenland Farm
had done a great thing in forcing the other farms to lower their prices
in order to stay competitive and keep consumers interested. They could
ruffle those feathers all they wanted, if the outcome was going to
benefit the general populace.
The car drove him right underneath the building, deep into
the underground parking where it would be waiting for him. He stepped
out near an elevator and waved his Slate in front of the call button. He
wasn’t a registered employee, which meant the security desk would be
notified of his presence, and they’d have to give him clearance. The
Slate relayed all relevant information for that, so he placed it back in
his inner jacket pocket and pushed his hands into his pants pockets,
glancing around as he waited. There weren’t many vehicles left; most
employees would have already gone home.
Access granted. Welcome, Detective Alazraq. The words hovered on the glass elevator doors for just a moment before they opened before him with a soft whish,
and Laith stepped inside, feeling a bit giddy to see the inside of the
farm itself. He’d seen photographs, of course – pictures from the
company’s website and news reports – but he was certain that it would be
different to see the place from within. He’d always been a bit of a
farming aficionado, and vertical farms were a fascinating feat of
agricultural engineering. Everything about them was intriguing, and
Laith knew almost everything there was to know about many of the designs
in Heliopolis.
Take the Greenland Farm, for example. He knew that atop the
helical building, there was a condensation collection facility, which
helped the farm collect about 10 million gallons of water per year –
water that the farm then used in its aeroponic, hydroponic, and
aquaponic systems. Given that vertical farms already used up much less
water than their horizontal counterparts – over 70 to 90 percent less
water, in fact – that setup was nothing to scoff at. Laith had even read
somewhere that Greenland Farm generated excess water, which it gave
away for use in various industries.
As the elevator ascended the levels smoothly, Laith saw
flashes of the different landings, almost all of which gave him glimpses
of rows and rows of greens and browns. He wondered if he could possibly
ask them for a tour of the place sometime, and if they’d be willing to
oblige. Farms usually kept their territories under strict lockdown –
only verified employees and guests could enter their premises. The
reason for this was that each farm invested a great deal of money into
research and development efforts, continuously trying to put out the
most delicious and aesthetically pleasing produce at prices that would
remain competitive. This included some genetic modification, and each
farm had its own ways of getting their fresh fruits, vegetables, and
herbs to grow how they wanted them. They didn't exactly like sharing
that information with one another.
It was not until he reached the forty-third level that the elevator stopped, and he was greeted by a young man with sunken eyes and a bored look about him. “Detective, welcome to Greenland Farm,” he said, his voice a quiet monotone. The kid sounded exhausted, and the hand that held the tablet seemed to have a bit of a tremor – the kind one gets when their muscles are fatigued. He obviously needed to go home for the day, and Laith almost felt bad for making him stay a little bit longer. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Mr. Aster Lockwood. Is he here?” Laith asked, stepping out of the elevator.
“Mr. Lockwood left about five hours ago,” the young man
said. “If you would like to leave a message, I can make sure he gets it
when he arrives tomorrow morning. Can I ask what this is about?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t share information with external
parties,” he replied, a bit irked with the young man’s passiveness. “Are
you sure your boss isn’t still somewhere around here?”
“Positive, Detective,” the young man replied. “You’ve just
found me in the process of doing a final check before heading home
myself. There’s nobody else in the building except for the security
detail.”
“Alright, then,” Laith said, updating his case log. “Please
tell him I was here looking for him if you do see him. I have some
questions to ask him regarding an incident that took place earlier this
afternoon. And – one more thing. What’s your name?”
The man seemed to straighten a bit at the question, eyeing
Laith warily. “My name is Toma Pom,” he told him. “I am Mr. Lockwood’s
assistant. I help manage the facility.”
“Thank you,” Detective Laith said, noting this down. “That
will be all for now, but please do call the HPD if you see Mr.
Lockwood.” When he stepped back into the elevator, a bit disappointed at
not having had the chance to explore more of the farm he’d read so much
about, Laith took a moment to contact Aster Lockwood’s Slate again, but
to no avail. “PATET, search for Aster Lockwood’s vehicle. Is it still
here?” Laith asked his Slate.
For a short moment, PATET worked to check. Then the response came: The car registered to Aster Lockwood is not present in the Greenland Farm parking garage.
“Find it, please,” Laith said as the glass doors before him opened and he stepped inside. “And locate Aster Lockwood’s Slate, too.” The sooner he found him, the better.
☀️ ☀️ ☀️
Aster Lockwood’s Slate has been located. Please open map marker.
Laith tapped on the map marker on the screen of his Camino
Forest’s internal monitor, eager for some new information on what was
turning out to possibly be his lead suspect. He was on his way back to
the office, and somehow he’d felt he’d wasted his time so far, given how
little he had been able to figure out. As soon as the map opened,
however, Laith’s heart sank at the location of the Slate in question.
Lockwood’s Slate was located out in the Ruins – outside of the limits of
Heliopolis, and certainly outside of his jurisdiction – but just close
enough that PATET could still pick up its signal. That, of course, was
the least of their concerns.
The Ruins were well-known for being a dangerous place rife
with outlaws that shunned the order and discipline of the Heliopolis and
its sister cities. The Ruins were all that was left of the old cities –
those grey, somber places where nature was almost impossible to find
and people lived in dense, suffocating urban structures. All of them had
been abandoned when the eco-cities began to be established, and for
good reason. But this also meant that PATET did not exist there, and
thus the hapless inhabitants of the Ruins remained outside of its
watchful surveillance, outside of its control. Most of the people there
were criminals on the run, while others were outlaws who wanted to live
their lives of crime without succumbing to a system that would make that
otherwise impossible. In short, the Ruins were a lawless place, full of
rundown buildings overrun with dangerous wildlife and various
environmentally unfriendly items.
What in the world was Aster Lockwood’s Slate doing out in
the Ruins? How did a man like him get out there – or, at least, how did
his Slate get that far outside the city’s boundaries? Slates were
extremely important and valuable. It was highly unlikely that its
existence out there at this very moment meant anything good.
A host of different possibilities clamored for attention in Laith’s already-busy mind, and he worked hard to put them aside for now. Conjecture wouldn’t help him so early on in the case. He needed more evidence, and he needed to find out if this new development had anything to do with Cassia Grove’s murder – and, if so, how the two were connected.
“Track the signal of Aster Lockwood’s Slate in case there is any movement,” he ordered the AI, and PATET accepted the request. Live tracking initiated. Notifications of movement activated.
If Lockwood’s Slate is out in the Ruins, then it certainly doesn’t bode well, Laith realized with a grim frown. This case continued to surprise. He wondered what else he might uncover throughout his investigation into Cassia Grove’s murder.
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