Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X #1)(62)
Author: Richelle Mead

“So. You do suspect something.”

Mae’s frustrated expression rivaled one of Cynthia’s. “Fine. You can buy me some ree when you find out you’re wrong.”

That momentarily derailed Justin’s satisfaction at getting his way. “What’s ree?”

“Prætorian poison,” said Leo, chuckling. Mae smiled hesitantly back at him, and Justin kind of wished they’d go back to their awkward relationship. He didn’t want them ganging up on him. “Expensive prætorian poison. The only thing that can get them drunk.”

“It’s an obscure children’s cough syrup,” she explained. “The implant doesn’t recognize it as a toxin. Take it in large enough amounts, and you get a pretty nice buzz.”

“Buzz?” Leo’s amusement turned to disapproval. “I’ve seen prætorians on ree. It’s a little more extreme than a buzz. And while I respect you guys’ having a loophole, intoxicated supersoldiers make me a little nervous.”

Justin found it fascinating but had to focus back on the real revelation. “We’ve got a deal,” he told her. “So you’ll give him the blood?”

“Thanks for signing me up without asking. Do you know what a pain it is transporting blood?” Leo turned to Mae. “The military would’ve done an analysis when you enlisted, and you have open access. Save me the hassle and just send that file. Do it soon so that we can all enjoy the satisfaction of him being wrong.”

“I’ll make it a top priority,” Mae assured him. “In the meantime, what are you going to do with the actual connection between the other victims?”

“I’m going to use it to make a profile of the killer. I don’t think this is religious at all. It’s some pissed-off geneticist going after his or her—most likely his, from the dagger’s force—creations. Maybe because of guilt. Maybe because the families didn’t pay. Whatever it is, it makes a hell of a lot more sense than a murderous cult,” said Justin.

“But why use such a weird weapon?” she asked.

“And what’s up with the video?” asked Leo.

“I’m working on that.” Justin brushed past it, not wanting to admit he had no clue about those connections yet. Sticking his head out the door, he called for Hiroshi.

The Nipponese cop appeared almost instantly, eager to help. “Yes?”

“Is your ego wired into all local law enforcement records? And citizens’ records?”

Hiroshi looked surprised. “Of course. What do you need to know?”

“Citizen records first. I need a summary of genetic scores for all Nipponese births twenty-seven and twenty-eight years ago. No, wait.” Justin reconsidered and changed his request to cover thirty to fifteen years ago. Hiroshi put in the request without question and then had the ego organize the resulting data into a chart. Justin peered at it in triumph.

“There we go. Two eights and a nine in those target years—higher than would be natural for a caste. Then it just drops off into typical numbers.”

It was true. After those years, the scores abruptly returned to average levels. There was one six and no sevens at all. The rest ranged from two to five. No eights or nines.

If Hiroshi was shocked at hearing the word “caste,” he didn’t show it. “What else can I help you with?”

Justin thought about it carefully. “Crime stats from the same date range. Especially pertaining to any illegal bio-research.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Leo as Hiroshi put in the request.

“I think if some shady lab abruptly stopped making their perfect babies twenty-seven years ago, then they probably got busted and shut down,” Justin explained.

“No biogenetic indiscretions in fifty years,” Hiroshi said a minute later, scanning the screen. “And the one on record back then was pretty sloppy.” Most were. Genetic manipulation at conception was a sketchy science that actually rarely yielded good results, which made numbers like this pretty astonishing.

“The lab could’ve operated in any of the other grants or even a plebeian city,” Justin murmured to himself. He stared blankly at Hiroshi’s ego, desperate for some lightning bolt of inspiration. He went back to the original theory. “Any records of suspicious religious activities over the years?”

“I figured you’d already know that,” said the man. “No offense, Dr. March.”

“None taken. Just humor me.”

Hiroshi shrugged and performed the search, finding nothing there either. Justin was on the verge of wrapping things up when an idea occurred to him. “Were there unusual criminal activities of any kind in that time span? Anything at all out of the ordinary that made the police’s radar?”

“That’s a broad request,” Hiroshi said.

“Humor me again.”

This took more time as Hiroshi made the request and then manually skimmed the data to draw his own conclusions. “Nothing.” Then he hesitated. “Nothing here.”

A chill went through Justin. “What do you mean?”

Hiroshi grew pensive. “I remember it. There was a lot of weird stuff outside the grant. Huron, Sioux Falls, some of the other neighboring cities. Some missing-persons cases and a higher-than-usual number of deaths. Most accidental, but a few homicides too. None of it was in our borders, but we had a lot of federal and local investigators coming through.”

Justin had the scent. He could barely contain himself. “How many?”

Hiroshi turned back to his ego. “Twenty-five, spread out over a two-year period—but they’re one off from the two you’re focusing on. Twenty-nine and twenty-eight years ago.” When no response came, he tentatively asked, “Is there something else?”

“No,” said Justin, slowly shaking his head. “You’ve been more than helpful. Thank you.”

When Leo finished up his assessment of the house—finding no definitive answers—he, Justin, and Mae decided to catch dinner in the grant before their flight. That was one perk of visiting land grants. Sure, outsiders often received cold treatment, but if you could suffer through that, the cuisine was outstanding. The three of them found a sushi place that served plebeians, though Justin barely noticed the excellent food. His mind was still trying to find the pattern, to beat sense out of the jumble of data he’d been given.

“So what did you learn today?” Leo asked. “Because I can tell there’s something going on in your head. Our cute waitress smiled at you, and you didn’t even notice.”