Foundation by Marco Guarda Page A

ain’t a promotion, either. I couldn’t get them to put it into writing, but they gave me their word: if you catch the killer ... they will intercede with the embassy to get you a first-class Aquarian citizenship.”
    Trumaine’s scowl had frozen on his face: “Say it again ...”
    “Get the darned mole and you shall go back to Aquaria, Chris. Back to her .”
    The patient, amicable eyes of Firrell glanced up and Trumaine knew his captain only meant well.
    Because Firrell was one of a kind. He was one of the few last of an extinguishing race of cops that had its roots in the past centuries. They were born bold and rugged, at times violent and irresponsible, but they had something the rest of the younger hotshots in the force who behaved like efficient and soulless robots lacked: they were capable of understanding the feelings of the people who worked for them, from the strain of pressure to the frustration of coming out empty-handed in a case. Under Firrell’s hardened skin, there was a man for whom the word ‘loyalty’ still had a meaning.
    “Would they really do it?” wondered Trumaine.
    “I told them I couldn’t keep you on the case. I explained to them I had to give you something in exchange. Something that really mattered to you. They agreed. You’re gonna get your citizenship as soon as you find the murderer.”
    There was a long silence. Trumaine looked torn. Even if he trusted Firrell, he didn’t put much stock in a promise from the Feds.
    “I need to think this over, Grant ...”
    “I knew you were going to accept!”
    “Hey, I didn’t say that ... I just—”
    The phone on Firrell’s desk rang of a sudden, interrupting Trumaine. The captain picked up.
    “Firrell.”
    He listened in silence. The more he listened the more his brow furrowed. Trumaine could see for himself this could only mean more bad news and he rolled his eyes in frustration. He could only hope it had nothing to do with the Jarvas’ murder and with the Credence development.
    Firrell hung up with a low whistle.
    “Who was that?”
    “The TSA ,” said Firrell, darkly.
    “Tell me they have found the ship.”
    “You wish they had ... No. This is another brick on our heads. The TSA has just shut down all intergalactic flights for fear of losing another ship. This means that without shipments, the outposts in the galaxy that have already depleted their water stocks won’t be resupplied,” said Firrell.
    Trumaine swore. He could just imagine the rest.
    “They will start to die in three days ...” he said.

Chapter Six

    A man’s polished white shoes walked along a spotless-white resin corridor, tapping steadily against it. A second pair followed suit, also white, also a man’s shoes. They added to the tapping, building up to a sonorous knocking.
    As the shoes moved on, a third pair fell in stride; also white, they were smaller and rested on slender heels—a woman’s pumps. The knocking became a roll of drums.
    Benedict, Trumaine and Matthews were revealed, walking side by side along a wide corridor at the end of which the believers’ chamber could be glimpsed.
    Even if Benedict hadn’t lost any of his sparkle, there were a couple of wrinkles in his face Trumaine hadn’t noticed before.
    “I’m sure you heard about the latest, dramatic developments in the matter, Detective. I regret to admit that we have lost a ship. I have no excuse for what happened and I shall take full responsibility for that, of course. Something we couldn’t foresee has happened in the believers’ chamber.”
    “How could the Hibiscus go astray?” asked Trumaine.
    “My guess is as good as yours. I’m afraid the parasite belief created by the crawler might have interfered with the Main Belief, causing a ripple that misplaced the ship.”
    Benedict stopped all of a sudden and looked Trumaine straight in the eye.
    “I hope you realize how dangerous this man is and how important it is that we catch him.”
    “I’m perfectly aware