Lev Rosen - Depth

“It was disgusting,” Caroline said, the laughter dying down. “But what did that have to do with the smuggling?”

“It was a specific fetish. People with fetishes that specific often seek out others with similar fetishes—especially on the mainland, where all pornography is strictly illegal. If you want to find something, you have to find the person who has it. That, combined with the budget for ink that the foundation was running up…”

“He was printing out Internet porn and shipping it back home to friends on the mainland?” Caroline asked. “I thought he was smuggling other art, or maybe documents he’d compiled on the mayor.”

“No,” Simone said, “porn. Weird porn. That’s why he was so quick to confess. Remember how I phrased it when I asked him if he was smuggling?”

“You called the art ‘media,’ ” Caroline said, nodding.

“I said, ‘You’re using the art shipments to smuggle additional media to the mainland. What that media is, we won’t pry into if you confess now.’ ”

“He was embarrassed.”

“You’d be amazed how many criminals are. It’s the shameless ones you have to look out for.”

Caroline shook her head. “So, do you think he found himself a grandma to punish him?” she asked after a moment, and the two of them burst out laughing again. The laughter faded into more stories and talk until it was late. They paid the bill and left, Caroline catching a taxi and wishing Simone good luck with Sorenson the next day.

At home, Henry’s face still hadn’t shown up on the recycling web page. Simone tapped her fingers on her desk and pursed her lips. Maybe it wasn’t a murder. Maybe it wasn’t Henry’s blood. She stood, looking forward to sleep, but her earpiece buzzed. The ID said it was a call from Belleau Cosmetics. Probably Anika, though Simone couldn’t be sure. Could be her secretary. Anika probably made her secretary stay as late as she did.

“Hello,” Simone answered.

“Are you at home?” Anika asked. She had a deep voice that was smooth but unvaried. A concrete slab wrapped in velvet.

“Yeah,” Simone said.

“Put me on vid,” Anika said. Simone put her earpiece on the desk, and an image of Anika at her desk popped up. Anika always wanted to talk on vid, though Simone was never sure why. Her eyes always wandered from one document to another, and she was constantly rearranging things. She only sometimes looked up at the screen. Maybe she just wanted to advertise her company’s products, which, Simone granted, were beautifully displayed on Anika’s face.

“So,” Anika said, “I think I have something I could use you for. A few experimental samples went missing from one of the labs here in the city. I was going to just ask security to handle it, but then you called, and I think I can justify that expense.”

“What are you talking about?” Simone asked, leaning back in her chair. She put her feet up, away from the camera so it wouldn’t block Anika’s view.

Anika looked up from something she was reading off her desk and furrowed her brow at Simone.

“You called me,” she said. “For work, I assume.”

“Oh,” Simone said. “No. Thank you, but that’s not why I called.”

Anika raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her desk. She was wearing a blouse buttoned to the top button. Her wardrobe always followed mainland decency laws, but somehow, it always looked illegal on her.

“So what did you call about?”

“You came up in the course of an investigation. I was hoping you could help me.”

Anika leaned back, studying Simone. “What do you need?”

“You met with a blonde woman at Delmonico’s recently. I was hoping you could tell me why.”

“That?” Anika shook her head. “That was total nonsense.” She unfolded her arms and started reading something off her desk again. “If your case has anything to do with that, it’s a dud.” The thing about Anika’s wandering eyes was that it made it hard for Simone to tell if she was lying.

“Humor me,” Simone said.

“I really can’t,” Anika said. She glanced up. “Have you tried our new fall line, by the way? We have this new lipstick that would look great on you.”

“The Blonde?” Simone asked, taking her feet down from the desk.

“I only took the meeting because Darren Keep asked me to,” Anika said. Darren Keep was the president of Belleau. “He wanted me to take the meeting, give him my thoughts. My thoughts were that that woman was peddling bullshit. I told him as much. That was it.”

“What exactly was she peddling?” Simone asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” Anika said, as though it were obvious.

“Why not?”

“It’s a company meeting—therefore, it’s a company secret.”

“I’ll sign a nondisclosure form, if you want,” Simone said, but she slumped her shoulders back. Anika was all business all the time. She could see where this was going.

“I appreciate it, but still no. I’d have to have lawyers draw up the form, which means Darren would see it and ask why and I’d have to tell him it was because a private investigator was asking questions and I thought it would be okay to answer them. Sorry, Simone.”

“C’mon, Anika. I’ve done some work for you. You know you can trust me.”

“You’ve done great work for us,” Anika said, looking right at Simone. “But right now, you’re doing work for someone else.”

“Can you at least tell me her name?”

“Honestly?” Anika said with a shrug. “I don’t remember it. I’m telling you, Simone—she’s not worth it. If she doesn’t know she’s peddling pure bullshit, then she’s either an idiot or insane. It’s not worth your time.”

“Do you know Henry St. Michel?” Simone asked.

“No—should I?” Anika asked.

“No. Just… maybe he was buying this bullshit.”

“Then I don’t want to know him. I don’t have time for stupid people, Simone. And you shouldn’t waste yours on them, either. Anyway, I’m going to send you our fall sampler. Just pop the pack in your 3D printer and pick the sunset pearl lipstick. Trust me, you’ll love it.” She glanced up and away. “I have to go. Think about the lab job? Get back to me.”

The screen went dark before Simone could answer. Simone leaned back, putting her hands behind her head. So The Blonde was selling something. Probably not women, if she thought Anika would buy. But what would you try to sell to both an export/import guy and a makeup VP? And why would it be worth firing bullets over to Henry, but not to Anika? Simone rubbed the back of her neck and shook her head. She didn’t know enough yet.

SHE MET DECOSTAS AT the Broecker Building the next morning. As the building had been in Queens, the walk was across several ships floating over what was once the East River. Those ships now made up Little India, and the smell of frying pakoras and samosas from the food carts wafted on the early wind towards her. It smelled like smoke and spice.

She was wearing a suit and tie under her trench coat and carried her father’s briefcase. She had made a ten-thirty appointment with a bank manager, saying she wanted to offer him corporate espionage services, but she had no intention of keeping it. When deCostas showed up, he was in a shabby brown suit, with a loose tie. Simone tightened his tie without saying anything, then walked into the building. Security men were posted at the elevator banks and behind the desks. Most of the businesses in the Broecker Building had branches on the mainland or the EU, but a New York branch was still important because of its lax enforcement of inconvenient laws, like the Tithe Rule or the Modesty Codes. When the water had first hit the streets, big business had started to flee the city, but seeing how many people stayed, they had come back. The Broecker Building welcomed them. The twenty-first floor had been expeditiously repurposed into a lobby after the waters rose, with working elevators, chic leather sofas, and a fully 3D directory server: a glowing woman made of holographic crystal who told you what floor each company was on.