The Woman Who Died a Lot

After the facility was shut down, the prisoners had been transferred to conventional prisons, but Aornis Hades was different. With a rap sheet that included extortion, blackmail, thought crimes, theft, torture and murder, she had her sentence commuted to quadruple life with added life. She was transferred out, but that was the last anyone heard from her. Quite where she was transferred to, who had transferred her and whether she ever got there was anyone’s guess. It was why looping was so perfect for her. No one to memory-manipulate.

The assistant manager threw several switches, and after a wait of several minutes for the valves to warm up, the central monitor sprang into life. Jimmy-G punched in the date and rough time, and a broad image of the shop’s interior appeared.

“Here,” said Jimmy-G, “it’s easier if you do it. If you want to change cameras, use this switch. To shuttle back and forth, it’s this knob here.”

We found her by the checkout, a well-dressed young lady with a sour expression and her features partially hidden beneath a large, floppy hat. It was definitely her, though— the Hades chin and nose were unmistakable. On either side of her were two prison guards, the first of whom was holding Aornis by the arm and the second of whom was holding a clipboard.

“Can you get his badge?” I asked, and Landen zoomed in further.

“Quinn,” he said as I scribbled it down on a notepad, “and the second is Highsmith.”

“Anything else?”

“Wait,” said Landen, zooming and shifting so he could read the clipboard that was tucked under Highsmith’s arm.

“It looks like ‘Tesco,’” muttered Landen, staring at the indistinct lettering. “That can’t be right.”

“Aornis liked shopping.”

“In Abercrombie & Fitch, she did,” said Landen, “not Tesco’s.”

“I can give you a hard copy,” said Jimmy-G, and he printed one, which was just the same: hazy and indistinct, but this time on paper instead of a screen.

We searched some more, but the only other picture of Aornis and the two guards was as they were leaving the facility two minutes later. We stood up and thanked the assistant manager as we walked out.

“Glad to be of help,” he said, shaking our hands and giving us some discount vouchers. “Tell your son that Jimmy-G would have been proud working under him. If I had. Which I won’t.”

“You would have known him?” I asked, intrigued that I’d met two people in one day who were ex–potential ChronoGuard.

“Yes, he helped me find a new job when the service wanted to retire me after my accident. He would have been a good friend. Will you ask him if he wants to come to my Destiny Aware Support Group meeting tomorrow? I’m setting it up for ex–potential ChronoGuard who have received their life summaries, and Friday would be very welcome. We need guidance, and he would have been there for us time and time again. And might again. For the first time. You know. Anyway, it’s at the sports center at eight.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to come.”

“If he’s anything like the person I’m told he might have turned out to be, he’d say no but come anyway.”

“I agree. I’ll tell him.”

We walked out of TJ-Maxx and sat on a bench to compare notes.

“Quinn and Highsmith,” I said. “We can get Millon to look them up.”

“They were traveling by car,” said Landen, staring at several other images that Jimmy-G had printed out. “Those are car keys, and that’s a road atlas.”

“So not local. Are you sure it says Tesco’s?”

“You have a look, clever clogs.”

“You know my vision is mildly blurred.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Well, it’s certainly not mine.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

It was Phoebe Smalls.

“Nothing at all,” I said. “Phoebe Smalls, this is my husband, Landen. Landen, meet the new head of SO-27.”

“You seem quite young,” said Landen.

“It’s due to my age,” said Phoebe, and Landen laughed, and I glared at him.

“What do you think that says?” said Landen, handing the picture to Phoebe before I could stop him. I glared at him again, and he mouthed, What?

“Tresco,” said Phoebe, handing the picture back. “The prison island off the coast of Cornwall. That’s my guess.”

“That’s exactly what we thought,” I said hurriedly, “but always best to get a second opinion.”

“Oh?” said Phoebe.

“Congratulations on your appointment toSO-27,” said Landen. “We just heard. Who are you considering as your second-incommand?”

I looked at him. He was using his “I’m so really up to something” voice. “Landen . . . ?”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” said Phoebe. “Earlier you generously asked me to work with you, and I thought I would return the compliment. I want you to be my deputy at SO-27, Thursday. My number two. My rock. What do you say?”

“That’s a very kind offer,” I said, “and although SpecOps is in my blood and I would dearly love to accept . . . I’ve just accepted the job of chief librarian from Braxton.”

“Ah,” she said. “Now, that’s a shame.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” I rose from the bench with considerably less elegance than I had hoped. “Good luck with the job,” I told her. “I’ll expect our paths will cross pretty soon.”