Free Nine: Vengeance of the Warrior by Shobha Nihalani Page B

wishes.
    ‘Okay, Mr War Veteran. You get another chance to fix your life. All you need to do is quit being a quitter. Get a job, volunteer, do anything.’

    The man gaped. ‘You are insane! I don’t need no sermons, get lost!’
    ‘What if it is the truth?’ Zubin touched his injured foot and in seconds it was healed. ‘I can help you.’
    ‘Hey!’ The man stared at his ankle, then looked up at Zubin. ‘It doesn’t hurt any more.’
    ‘So, do we have a deal?’
    The man nodded wildly. ‘Yes,’ he said over and over again.
    ‘What are you going to do once you are healed?’
    ‘I will get a job, I will …’
    ‘… Help others, I will straighten out my life, I will find a place to live …’ Zubin prompted and the man nodded.
    Zubin touched his face and head. It was a matter of minutes and the man was looking better. Feeling exhausted, Zubin left him gaping at his arms and legs as if he was seeing them for the first time. ‘Keep this to yourself, you hear me?’ Zubin warned. ‘Or else you will become the old self.’
    The man nodded vigorously and fingered a cross across his heart. Zubin hurried out of the alley. He retrieved an alcohol wipe from his pocket and cleaned his hands vigorously. Sprinting, he reached the main street, when he heard the man call out in the distance. ‘Hey you! What’s your name?’
    Zubin didn’t bother to respond and headed home. He needed a hot shower and time to unwind. His ear was burning up, the implant was buzzing. He didn’t pay any attention. The implant buzzed like that every time he overdid it.
    The public examiner’s office was in the middle of the city. Zubin had arrived early and strode past the forensics evidence room, towards the crime scene services. He pulled on a lab coat. His assistant, Carmin, was a tall, big-boned woman with a plump face. She chewed on gum constantly. She was seated at her computer, staring at enlarged fingerprints on a split screen. ‘What do you think?’ she asked when she saw him. Zubin leaned over her and studied the two images.
    On the screen were fingerprint analyses, comparisons between a suspect and a known criminal in the police database. The computer had given an eighty-five per cent match. ‘It looks like it is a match, but the computer is not giving a 90 per cent and above validity. It won’t hold in court.’
    Zubin dragged a chair and sat next to her; he studied the images again. They discussed other evidence and the suspect’s alibi. ‘We can’t make the call. I’ll talk to the detective.’
    Zubin hurried towards the toxicology section for a better determination of the cause of death of the victim. Robert, his colleague, was studying tissue samples. ‘There are drugs in his system but his death was the result of a stab wound to the heart. The sixty-year-old man was recently married and the primary suspect seems to be the stepson, who had some prior convictions.
    ‘Trauma is evident in other body parts, indicating the victim was in a fight,’ Robert continued. ‘He was on heart medication and there was some alcohol in his system.’
    Zubin buzzed Phil, the medical investigator. Phil arrived. Zubin told him, ‘Return to the crime scene. I want more data on the location of the body and the surrounding area, if any.’
    ‘What are we looking for?’
    ‘Blood splatter. Check areas that may have been wiped clean.’
    ‘On it,’ Phil said and left.
    Zubin turned to Robert. ‘Get me a full toxicology report as soon as possible.’
    ‘Okay, boss.’
    While he was on the case, Zubin got a call from the police. ‘Yes?’ He talked rapidly and hurried towards his office. Removing his lab coat, he called out, ‘Phil, we’ve got a homicide. Get me one of your assistants!’
    ‘I’ll come with you, doctor,’ Reeve, the newest member of their team, said. She was the forensic pathologist and had a great résumé. She had just moved to Los Angeles. She was an expert in murder cases, having investigated fifty in the