murder knew what they were doing. The absence of data on this case indicates we’re dealing with a professional, someone who knows how to cover up afterward and make our job as difficult as possible.”
“You mean he was hit ?”
“Until we know who he is and fill in some background, I can’t speculate on why he was killed. Do you know of any member of your family being threatened?”
“Nothing outside the usual cranks, no.”
“Well, if anything does come to light …”
“Absolutely.”
The city’s chief coroner came out to greet them. “I’m ready for you now,” he announced solemnly.
“Then I’m back to the office,” Chloe said. “Keep me updated, please, Detective.”
Sid gave her his best insincere smile. “Of course.”
“So how is O’Rouke?” Aldred asked as they walked along the corridors to the exam room.
“I believe he mentioned something about getting a result.”
Aldred snorted in sour amusement. “My family wants a certainty here, Detective. We’re prepared to wait for that. Don’t cut corners on our account.”
“With the funding you’ve made available, I won’t have to.”
The corpse was resting on a surgical-style table in the middle of the exam room. Directly above him, long segmented metal arms were attached to the ceiling around the bright lighting circle, each ending in a different kind of sensor. Around them were the holographic cameras to record the procedure. Screens made up one wall, while small sample desks lined the other, each with its own stock of instruments.
Sid and the others put on pale blue smocks, with tight gloves to prevent any possible evidence contamination. Two assistants joined the coroner.
Under the harsh lighting the corpse somehow looked even worse than he had the night before on the boat. His skin had dried out and whitened to a classic pallor, leaving the big chest wound almost black by comparison.
The coroner activated the cameras and started his official commentary. His assistants wheeled instrument trolleys over to the examination table.
He began with a spectroscopic analysis, bringing down one of the sensor arms and sliding it smoothly across the body. “Checking for contaminants,” he explained.
Sid thought that was taking procedure too far; the North had been in the Tyne for hours, he’d be saturated with pollution. He said nothing, though. Samples were taken from under the fingernails; hair was combed out. Swabs were applied to mouth, nose, and ears. Then they performed a thorough visual inspection.
“Note the minor abrasions on both heels,” the coroner said. “They all run in one direction.”
“He was dragged,” Sid said.
“Correct. Postmortem.”
“He was dumped in the river after death,” Sid explained to Aldred.
“Early days, Detective,” the coroner said. He turned the left leg and indicated a three-centimeter graze. “Again, postmortem, the wound is deeper at the top, indicating a snag of some kind punctured the skin and tore.” Another sensor was applied, along with a micro camera that threw up a hugely magnified image on one of the screens. “No residuals, I’m afraid. The river took care of that.”
The body was turned over, and the exam continued. Sid did his best not to flinch as one of the assistants took a swab sample from the body’s anus. What that must be like for Aldred, he couldn’t imagine.
The coroner held up one of the hands, then the other, scanning the arms. “There are small extraction marks everywhere. The smartcells were removed postmortem.”
“Roughly how long would that take?” Sid asked.
“I’ll catalog the exact number later, but if you’re doing it properly, it takes about thirty seconds for each one. Most people have between ten and fifty depending on what level of transnet access you want, and how much of your health you like to monitor. They’re actually quite easy to remove, since commercially available smartcells measure less than half a millimeter—except
“You mean he was hit ?”
“Until we know who he is and fill in some background, I can’t speculate on why he was killed. Do you know of any member of your family being threatened?”
“Nothing outside the usual cranks, no.”
“Well, if anything does come to light …”
“Absolutely.”
The city’s chief coroner came out to greet them. “I’m ready for you now,” he announced solemnly.
“Then I’m back to the office,” Chloe said. “Keep me updated, please, Detective.”
Sid gave her his best insincere smile. “Of course.”
“So how is O’Rouke?” Aldred asked as they walked along the corridors to the exam room.
“I believe he mentioned something about getting a result.”
Aldred snorted in sour amusement. “My family wants a certainty here, Detective. We’re prepared to wait for that. Don’t cut corners on our account.”
“With the funding you’ve made available, I won’t have to.”
The corpse was resting on a surgical-style table in the middle of the exam room. Directly above him, long segmented metal arms were attached to the ceiling around the bright lighting circle, each ending in a different kind of sensor. Around them were the holographic cameras to record the procedure. Screens made up one wall, while small sample desks lined the other, each with its own stock of instruments.
Sid and the others put on pale blue smocks, with tight gloves to prevent any possible evidence contamination. Two assistants joined the coroner.
Under the harsh lighting the corpse somehow looked even worse than he had the night before on the boat. His skin had dried out and whitened to a classic pallor, leaving the big chest wound almost black by comparison.
The coroner activated the cameras and started his official commentary. His assistants wheeled instrument trolleys over to the examination table.
He began with a spectroscopic analysis, bringing down one of the sensor arms and sliding it smoothly across the body. “Checking for contaminants,” he explained.
Sid thought that was taking procedure too far; the North had been in the Tyne for hours, he’d be saturated with pollution. He said nothing, though. Samples were taken from under the fingernails; hair was combed out. Swabs were applied to mouth, nose, and ears. Then they performed a thorough visual inspection.
“Note the minor abrasions on both heels,” the coroner said. “They all run in one direction.”
“He was dragged,” Sid said.
“Correct. Postmortem.”
“He was dumped in the river after death,” Sid explained to Aldred.
“Early days, Detective,” the coroner said. He turned the left leg and indicated a three-centimeter graze. “Again, postmortem, the wound is deeper at the top, indicating a snag of some kind punctured the skin and tore.” Another sensor was applied, along with a micro camera that threw up a hugely magnified image on one of the screens. “No residuals, I’m afraid. The river took care of that.”
The body was turned over, and the exam continued. Sid did his best not to flinch as one of the assistants took a swab sample from the body’s anus. What that must be like for Aldred, he couldn’t imagine.
The coroner held up one of the hands, then the other, scanning the arms. “There are small extraction marks everywhere. The smartcells were removed postmortem.”
“Roughly how long would that take?” Sid asked.
“I’ll catalog the exact number later, but if you’re doing it properly, it takes about thirty seconds for each one. Most people have between ten and fifty depending on what level of transnet access you want, and how much of your health you like to monitor. They’re actually quite easy to remove, since commercially available smartcells measure less than half a millimeter—except
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