The Prometheus Incident, A Martian Murder Mystery, Page 3

  Chapter Three – The Freeman Interview

  Professor Freeman sat behind his desk in silent contemplation. He had signed all the necessary papers and read his morning mail. There would be nothing urgent to demand his attention until he met with the academic board at 11.00 a.m. Still, it was not a happy meditation. Professor Freeman gazed out the window in a dark and sullen melancholy. He was an impressive, handsome-looking man in his early fifties. He had a patrician air about him which was enhanced by his prematurely grey hair. This was swept back in a conservative style which matched the classic tailoring of his suit. His desk and office were as neat and orderly as his attire. He was the epitome of the modern, managerial academic. The brooding nature of his contemplation would have surprised his professional colleagues. It seemed to them that he was still riding the academic tide that he had caught twenty years ago: a tide which had brought him some remarkable success. A newspaper lay neatly folded on his desk. Its headline read: ‘Hellas Basin expedition locates the Ares II Lander’. His personal assistant knocked on his door and stuck her head into the office. He looked up immediately, glad of the distraction from his dark mood.

  “There’s a Detective Inspector Richardson from the Australian Federal Police here to see you, Professor,” she said. “Okay, send him in,” he told her. He then turned and gazed out his tenth-storey window. It was spring and the elm trees that dotted the campus were a vivid green.

  As Detective Inspector Richardson walked into the office Professor Freeman turned to face him and motioned for him to sit down. Detective Inspector Richardson was a heavy, thickset man in a cheap and undeniably worn suit. A younger man, slimmer and much better dressed, followed him in but remained standing near the door. Richardson moved with slow, deliberate motions and he had the slightly frayed look of someone who had not slept.

  As he sat down he said, “Thank you, Professor. I would like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” said Professor Freeman with a casual insincerity. “I’m always ready to help the police in any way I can.” He leaned back in his chair and watched the detective closely.

  Detective Inspector Richardson spoke slowly and carefully. “As one of the members of the Ares II crew, I’m sure you’re aware that the latest mission to the Hellas Basin has found the remains of your lander, the Prometheus, and that a preliminary onsite investigation has been able to determine that the crew died of apoxia.”

  “Yes, certainly. It has been on my mind all morning. The whole thing is just so sad. They were good people. They were people I was proud to call my friends,” Freeman replied, “This news has just brought the whole tragic thing back.” He paused and examined Richardson closely. “I am curious though as to why this interests the police department?” Wrong reaction, Richardson thought. He’s way too calm. It’s almost as if he was expecting us. Why?

  “Well, Professor,” Richardson said, “we have reason to believe that they were murdered ...” Professor Freeman stopped listening as the office seemed to fade into memory, memory of a time spent weightless in the close confines of a spaceship. It was all so long, long ago.

  “Professor Freeman?” Freeman became aware of his surroundings with a start. Richardson smiled. “You seemed to be a little lost there.”

  “I’m sorry,” replied Freeman, “but the news you just gave me came as a shock: a real shock. Why do you think they were murdered? Who could have done it?”

  “Well, to answer your second question first. Considering the location, it’s obvious that the only reasonable suspects are the fifteen people who were the crew of the Ares II., I have been told that there is no natural force that could produce the circumstances of their death, so it seems that foul play is very strongly indicated. In fact, we know that they were murdered. We need to interview all of the crew members to find which of them was responsible. You were the atmospheric physicist on board the mission, correct?”

  “Wait. Am I a suspect? Are you accusing me?” Professor Freeman was incredulous and angry. “This is preposterous! Surely it was an accident! How could I have done it? What motive could I have had? What motive could any of us have had?”

  Richardson leaned back in his chair and seemed to study the small data terminal on his wrist as he answered. “You know, Professor,” he said. “At the moment we’re only making general enquiries. These questions are all pretty routine but until we get some clarity, I’m afraid that you and all your crewmates are, indeed, suspects. Motive is, as you say, a puzzle. Normally in a case like this, where you have an isolated group and one of the victims is an attractive young woman, I would consider sex the most likely motive. It’s the classic scenario for a crime of passion. However, in this case you were all very highly motivated, ambitious and disciplined people. Also, you had all signed a binding legal contract to refrain from sexual activity for the duration of the mission. I understand that the space agency deals very harshly with crew members who break that agreement – something about it interfering with crew cohesion.” Richardson looked to Professor Freeman for confirmation. Freeman nodded.

  “In any case, I have been through all of the commander’s confidential mission reports and right through the evidence at the original commission of enquiry. There is no indication of any problems in that direction.” He looked around the plush office with its large picture windows. “You’ve done very well for yourself. Being a member of the Ares II crew must’ve helped a bit.”

  Professor Freeman frowned. “Look here,” he said. “I was on that mission because I’m good at what I do. I got this position because I’m good at what I do. If I hadn’t made that trip to Mars, I would still have had a successful career. It may have taken a slightly different route but I would still have gotten to where I am. I didn’t need to kill my friends to get here.”

  Richardson gave an apologetic smile. “Professor, at this stage I’m mostly just collecting background information. What instruments did you use in your atmospheric research?”

  Still frowning, Professor Freeman sat back in his oversized leather chair and looked at the detective as he would at a wayward student. “For the most part I used the MaSI, the MOP, and the MMS,” he said. Detective Inspector Richardson looked blank. “The Mars Spectrographic Imager, the Mars Optical Polarimeter, and the Mars Microwave Sounder,” he clarified.

  Once again, the detective seemed to be studying the small data terminal on his wrist. “Did you share any of these instruments with other members of the crew?” he asked. “Was there some sort of roster for their use?’

  “I shared the MaSI and the MMS with Dr Martin O’Connor, the geophysicist,” the professor replied. “Early on it was very tightly timetabled, but we were well into the extended part of the mission and, truth to tell, had mostly finished our key observations. By that stage, instrument use was mostly sorted by a kind of loose mutual agreement between Martin and myself.” The professor looked thoughtful for a moment. “Martin was always a bit strange, brilliant in his own way, of course, but strange. He had a very nice position with a large asteroid mining company all lined up for when he got back, would have set him up for life, but he didn’t take it up. When he did actually return, he just wrote a very peculiar book and then ran off and joined some sort of monastery – odd. He was close friends with Colonel Prentice.” The detective looked up, suddenly interested. “Nothing untoward,” the professor assured him. “Commander Chang made sure of that, but they did spend a lot of time together.”

  Richardson nodded. “Professor, the Prometheus had suffered an earlier technical problem, had it not?” Richardson asked.

  “Yes,” Professor Freeman answered. “It had a propulsion failure. It was an ongoing problem with the Boeing Series landers.”

  “If they had not died in the second incident, this would have delayed your return to Earth, would it not?”

  Freeman nodded. “I suppose so,” he said.

  “Would Dr O’Connor’s lucrative asteroid mining job have still b
een there if your return had been delayed?” Professor Freeman shrugged.

  “Probably,” he said. “O’Connor was brilliant, although those positions are very competitive.”

  Richardson stood up. “Thank you for your time and your help, Professor,” he said. “We’ll interview Dr O’Connor and the other members of the crew in due course. That’s all for now but I would appreciate it if you could let us know if you are travelling anywhere in the next few days. I may need to ask a few more questions once I have the whole picture clearer in my mind.”

  Professor Freeman stood to shake the detective’s hand. “Of course,” he said. “As I said before, I’m always happy to help the police in any way I can.”

  Richardson had almost left the room when he turned around. “Oh, one last thing, Professor DeWitt wrote something on the inside of the lander before he died. He wrote: ‘They’ve got to me. I should have known they would. I was so close. I wish I had time to write the details.’ Any idea what he meant?”

  For the first time, Professor Freeman looked genuinely surprised. “No,” he said. “No idea at all.”