Chapter 22

[Reality Check - Friday Feb. 12 2010, 1726 hours, somewhere in the SDF-1] 

The room was roughly square, decorated in the depressing shade of yellow most of the police forces around the world seem to prefer. There was a small metallic table fixed into the centre of the room. Around it, four flimsy wooden chairs were arrayed. On one of them Thallin sat, staring at the large mirror on one of the walls. 

<Three hours. I've been sitting here for three hours.> The thought did nothing to cheer him. Instead, he concentrated on looking at the mirror, trying to see what was happening behind it. So far, he had had no luck. 

The door to his left opened and a figure entered, bearing a leather briefcase. "Lieutenant Braywater, what a small world! But then again, it is only twelve-hundred meters in length, isn't it?" 

Thallin looked up at the new arrival. "Meier. I should have known I'd see your face soon enough. Why are you interested in me this time?" 

"You know, whenever something goes wrong I ask myself 'where is Braywater'. And there you are, in a little corner, somehow mixed in with all the mess. You have a talent for trouble, Lieutenant." 

"I'm glad you approve. Again, why are you here?" Thallin leant back in the chair, trying to look nonchalant. 

Meier threw a couple of photographs down on the table in front of Thallin. "Have a look at these. Tell me what you think." 

Thallin picked up the photos and examined them. "I think you should find yourself a new photographer." 

"Always the dry wit." answered Meier without sarcasm. "The picture you are currently looking at is the body of Sergeant Sam'di. More specifically, the entrance wound. You will notice from the scale next to the wound that it was created by small-arm fire. Something the aliens are not known for using against us." He pointed to the second photo. "That is a picture of the bullet we eventually recovered from the Sergeant's backpack. It had impeded itself into the life-support systems of her suit. Had she not died from the wound she would have from decompression." 

"You're a barrel of laugh." replied Thallin. 

"Sarcasm now. You must be rattled. You will notice, however, the chemical composition of the bullet - it's written down on the back. The summary is that it was made from a silver-tungsten alloy. Not very common at all. And you have no doubt also noticed the markings on the bullet itself - T, A, something, A. We ran the picture through a couple of programs in the lab to try to reconstruct the inscription as it would have looked before the bullet hit the body. The computer came back with the name 'TAMARA'. Sounds familiar?" Meier paused his tirade, looking at Thallin for a reaction. 

"So..." started Thallin slowly, "you are looking for a murderer who moulds his own silver bullets and inscribes them with the name of the victim. Kinky." 

"We do not think this was a crime of passion, Lieutenant. We already know who shot Sergeant Sam'di." 

"If you do, then why am I still here? Or do you think I did it? If so, I demand to see a lawyer!" 

Meier raised his hand and motioned for Thallin to sit back down. "Please, Lieutenant... humour me a little longer." The Intelligence officer sat back on his chair and looked at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "The murderer would not have been walking around with a loaded pistol, especially if he - or she - had gone to the trouble of fashioning a bullet for the express purpose of shooting the Sergeant. This means the murderer knew the Sergeant would be in the landing bay at the time she was killed - even if the time was only approximate. The method of the murder tends to point towards a professional hit. The reason for the silver bullet is not yet clear, but it would seem to be an attempt to publicise the hit." 

Thallin leant forward, forearms on the table. "So far, this does not explain why I am still being detained here. Surely you don't think I'm a professional assassin?" 

Meier laughed. "The thought had crossed my mind, I must admit. But you do not have the temperament for it. No, whoever did this acted professional and methodically. Did I tell you about the murder weapon?" 

Thallin shook his head. "You've only mentioned that it was a pistol." 

"The weapon was a 5.7mm fully automatic Remington-Clarke hand pistol. The clip holds 20 rounds. The musel flash and rapport are negligible. Silent, deadly, real nasty. Which is why the UEG bought all of them and gave them to us. The Remington-Clarke is the pistol of preference of the Military Intelligence Branch. Do you understand what I am saying, Lieutenant?" 

Thallin nodded, not quite seeing where this line of thought was leading. "The murderer was using a MIB weapon, knew where Sergeant Sam'di would be at a particular time, and wanted to publicise the killing for some reason. And where does that lead us?" 

"Lieutenant, where was Christina Leeds at the time of the murder?" 

"She had flown back to the Macross after having been shot, and -" Thallin stopped, finally seeing where Meier was heading. "Oh boy." 

Forward to Chapter 23.
Back to Chapter 21. 

Return to the Thallin Braywater contents page.