by David Gullen
‘Palfinger, no!’ Chandra Smith exclaimed. ‘That’s not–’
‘Ten billion rupees? Twenty? Just tell me, Chandra. I will transfer the money now.’
‘Listen to me, Palfinger,’ Chandra said urgently, ‘I am doing my absolute best to help Ellen. You are my esteemed friend, she is your daughter, I want–’
‘One hundred billion,’ Crane said bitterly.
On the screen Chandra stared open mouthed. ‘That is an outrageous amount of money.’
‘I agree. What else do you suggest I spend it on?’
‘Wait for me to arrive,’ Chandra implored. ‘This is not necessary, it is irrelevant.’
‘Hurry up, Chandra. Guinevere Snarlow is inbound with a medical team. I don’t like her and I don’t want her here, but her army surgeons have great experience with gunshot wounds. She plays political hard-ball but at least she’s honest about what she wants.’
Chandra stared in shock. ‘Don’t let them do anything. They don’t understand Ellen’s metabolism. The exoframe will maintain her until–’
‘Don’t worry. You’ll still get paid.’ Crane cut the connection and leaned heavily on the desk, head hanging. ‘Am I doing the right thing? Was that a mistake? I don’t know.’
Yes it is, Novik thought. A gigantic mistake.
‘Come and see Ellen,’ Marytha urged Crane. ‘Then get some rest before Snarlow arrives.’
On the verge of agreeing, Crane shook his head. ‘St.John’s family have to be told. I never once told him how much he meant to me.’
‘I’m sure he knew,’ Marytha said. ‘You didn’t need to ask for his help today.’
‘He was very fond of Ellen.’
There would be no communication with the outside world unless General Andriewiscz initiated contact. Crane let out a deep, sad sigh, ‘I’ll write a letter. Later. Come on, let’s go see Ellen.’
The moment Marytha and Crane had left the room Benny accosted Novik. ‘Are you happy with any of this?’
‘Crane’s distraught, his judgement is skewed. What can I do?’
‘Something, anything. Time is running out. If you’ve got any kind of scheme, go with it.’
Novik recalled his odd thoughts while they drank Crane’s remarkable whisky. Reluctantly, he explained his ideas.
Benny was not overly impressed. ‘It sounds crazy. No, actually it is crazy.’
‘You’re right, forget it.’
Benny gripped Novik’s shoulders, ‘There’s nothing to lose now. Mention it, see what Crane thinks.’ He removed a pearl-headed pin from his lapel and attached it to Novik’s jacket. ‘And wear this, just in case it pisses him off.’
‘What’s is it?’
‘A standing-wave resonator from my force field.’
Novik felt a burst of affection for his awkward, obsessed young friend. ‘You never give up, do you?’
Benny’s eyes glittered, ‘Same as you then, aren’t I?’
Novik fingered the lapel pin. ‘Maybe we’re both mad.’
They found Crane just as he left the medical room with Marytha.
‘Ellen looks so peaceful.’ Crane looked and sounded much calmer than before. ‘Thank you for helping her, thank you for everything. Snarlow’s got me over a barrel with Ellen and she knows it. She threatened us once, now she’s going to save Ellen’s life. It’s just politics for people like her. I’ll do what she wants, of course – I just wish I could get through to St.John’s family.’
‘The para-humans said they would look after him,’ Novik said.
‘That’s a comfort. Tell me, what do you make of them?’
Novik recalled his conversation with Theodore, the lupine woman’s advice, the feel of the white-fletched arrow between his fingers, ‘Disconcerting. Like they stepped out of legends I never knew.’
Crane held up the white-fletched arrow, ‘I found this in the lab.’
Novik took it back. ‘They left another with Josie.’
Crane said, ‘I brought them into being, yet their rituals and beliefs are their own. It’s as if their mythologies were already contained within them.’
‘I liked them.’ Novik realised he admired, even envied, the powerful, capable para-humans and their straightforward opinions. ‘I’m glad they’re on our side.’
‘They are not like us.’ Crane tapped his head with a finger. ‘Not in here. We humans stand in one place and see the world from there. They stand somewhere else and see things differently, maybe things we are incapable of seeing. I’m worried about what people will make of them. Without me they wouldn’t exist, I’m responsible–’
‘Like a father, or–’
‘A God? A small and imperfect one,’ Crane said, with a haunted look. ‘I made sure they had partners, companions, husbands and wives. I wasn’t going to make that mistake.’
The moment arrived, Novik found he had cold feet. ‘Ellen–’
‘Yes, of course. Bianca should be here, Ellen’s mother. My daughter needs her, she always has.’
‘Mr Crane, Palfinger, about Ellen–’
‘Yes?’
‘Chandra Smith said Ellen is too big to operate on. You remember when she lost weight, it happened twice.’
Immediately he had Crane’s full attention. ‘What’s your idea?’
Now he had to say it. He could hear the words in his head before he spoke them, and knew they were going to sound ridiculous, stupid. Greedy. ‘Each time, just before it happened, you gave away some money.’
Crane didn’t laugh, he didn’t mock, he didn’t tell Novik he’d gone soft in the head. He simply looked at him with unbearable disappointment. ‘Not you too. I suppose it was too much to ask.’
Crane walked slowly away. Novik made to go after him but Marytha held him back. ‘That’s enough,’ she said, ‘Leave him be.’
- 61 -
‘How small are the real wants of human nature, which we Europeans have increased to an excess… Nor shall we cease to increase them as long as Luxuries can be invented and riches found for the purchase of them; and how soon these Luxuries degenerate into necessaries…’
– Joseph Banks, August 1770, aboard the Endeavour
Manalito existed in two worlds, easily able to reconcile his orders from Mitchell Gould with Tanoata’s spiritual summons. In both he was a killer, in both Bianca his victim. Destiny, fate, kismet; call it what you will, it had brought them together.
The heat from a high, silver-white sun fell like a dull weight. Bianca lay in a stupor of apathy in her shelter under the coconut trees. The waterless atoll was no place for life. The rising sea had drowned the reef, eroded the beech, and now the palms were dying. Of the dozens of fallen coconuts only one was germinating, a sickly thing with a single yellowing leaf. The next typhoon would scour the island bare.
Rousing herself, Bianca carried a coconut to the shore and flung it artlessly into the surf. Perhaps one living thing would escape this forlorn spot.
A steady breeze pushed the coconut out to sea, far beyond the seaplane. Bianca watched it until it was gone from sight, then returned to the palms and carried armloads of coconuts to the shore. There, she threw them into the water with a two-handed overarm technique that sent them far over the water. Driven by the breeze a small flotilla of the fibrous nuts bobbed away from the island.
Tiger sharks began to circle, attracted by the splashes. Bianca’s anger at her own impotence grew, she aimed at their dorsal fins and questing snouts.
Her two-handed style was powerful and accurate. One shot struck a tiger shark on the head, sending it into an angry spasm. She struck another on the body, and then a third. Agitated, the sharks churned the water, surging and buffeting each other. Bianca rained more coconuts down on them.
‘Stop that now!’ Manalito’s shout carried across the water. He hung with one arm from a wing strut, his bare feet on one of the seaplane’s floats.
Bianca glared at him, and pointedly threw a coconut towards him.
‘You will stop that immediately
,’ Manalito bellowed.
Anxiety tinged Manalito’s shouted commands. Suddenly Bianca felt very powerful. What could Manalito do beyond his already vicious plans?
‘Make me,’ she screamed, and hurled another coconut into the sea. ‘Come and make me.’
Manalito swung from the wing strut and slid into the water. Bianca threw another coconut at the sharks then turned to watch him. At first he angled away from the roil of sharks, then cut towards the beach with a long, powerful crawl. With cold certainty Bianca knew that when he arrived, he would kill her.
Filled with frantic energy, Bianca flung coconuts up the beach, ran forwards and threw again. Now she stood where Manalito would land, a pile of coconuts at her feet. He was twenty feet from shore when her second throw caught him on the buttocks. The next cracked his head.
Manalito choked, jerked his head, and looked about. Another coconut splashed beside him. He located Bianca and deflected her next throw with his forearm. His teeth flashed white and he sank beneath the surface.
Bianca scanned the choppy waves, filled with an anxiety approaching terror. She had hurt him, but only enough to make him angry. She stood watchful on the beach, a coconut raised above her head. Finally she saw Manalito’s dark hair, a few feet from shore. She threw wildly and missed.
Manalito took another breath and submerged.
Bianca threw the remaining coconuts inland. The world turned with deadly sloth, every breath became an eternity and loose, dry sand hindered her every step. Bianca felt each fibre on the coconuts with hyper-real clarity, the soft splash of collapsing waves came supernaturally loud.
Momentum deserted her and her arms hung limp by her side. She had made a dreadful mistake. In her mind’s eye she bobbed in the water as Nei-Teakea just before the shark took her.
Manalito erupted from the surf. Knife in hand, he charged across the white sand, a shark in human form. Rokea.
Bianca shrieked and burst back to life. Her arms jerked up and she threw a coconut. The throw was weak. Manalito dodged aside and sprinted forwards.
Coconuts lay strewn across the beach. As he ran, Manalito turned his ankle on one and fell hard. He regained his feet in an instant but now his ankle would not bear his weight.
Head low, Manalito glared at Bianca. His mouth hung open, veins bulged in his neck. Clenched in his fist, his knife pointed steadily at her stomach. ‘Come here,’ he said thickly.
Bianca shook her head and retreated. When Manalito limped forwards she moved back.
‘You throw well,’ Manalito said in a more normal voice. ‘I enjoyed the game but I was worried the sharks would damage the seaplane.’
‘Good,’ Bianca said.
Manalito glowered at her then laughed. ‘You misunderstand me. Mitchell Gould hired me to assassinate you, but I would never kill a woman for money.’ He brushed wet hair from his face and gave Bianca a rueful smile. ‘The pain from my ankle made me angry, I admit it. A simple accident, caused by my own haste. The situation is simple, we will stay here for a few more days, and I will set you free.’
‘Of course.’ Heart thumping, Bianca took two steps back.
‘This knife?’ Manalito tested his weight on his ankle, ‘A defence against the tiger sharks.’
‘Throw it down,’ Bianca said.
‘Yes, certainly,’ Manalito paced forwards.
‘No further,’ Bianca ordered.
‘Of course. One more thing–’ Manalito sprang through the air with a roar.
Bianca flung herself aside. Manalito landed on hands and knees with his knife rammed deep in the sand. Bianca ran behind him and kicked him between his legs as hard as possible. Manalito gargled with pain and curled into a ball. Bianca grabbed a coconut and brought it down onto his temple. Manalito swung blindly with his knife. Bianca flung the coconut two handed onto his face.
Manalito lay stunned, blood poured from his broken nose. Bianca snatched up another coconut and raised it over her head. Manalito’s arm flicked out and his knife struck through her knee.
Bianca felt the blow but there was no pain. She looked down and saw the hilt jammed against the outside of her knee. Three inches of the broad blade protruded on the far side. It looked dreadful but Manalito still lived.
Bianca pounded Manalito in a wild frenzy. To survive she had to kill. To kill she had to become the killer, become Manalito.
‘Die!’ she howled into his face, up at the sky, the world. ‘Die, die, die.’
Manalito twisted and rolled beneath her blows. His cheekbone cracked, another blow smashed against his eye, a third crushed his mouth. Bianca hammered at his forehead and the coconut shattered. Shrieking with frustration she pushed handfuls of sand into Manalito’s mouth.
Finally, Manalito seized Bianca’s wrists and flung her away. As she fell, something parted in her knee with appalling pain. Her leg no longer worked, the knife grated agonisingly inside the joint, black blood sheeted from the wounds. Sprawled on the sand, Bianca tried to pull the knife free, the blade was stuck, the pain unbelievable.
Scant feet away Manalito rolled onto his hands and knees. He wiped red sand from his eyes, snorted, and spat blood, sand, teeth. The promise in his ruined face lay far beyond simple murder. He drew his other knife and crawled towards her.
Bianca wailed in terror and crabbed backwards. Manalito would not die. She scrambled away on her good leg and hands.
Manalito swayed upright and staggered after her like a drunken man.
Spray broke against Bianca’s face. She had blundered into the surf and there was nowhere left to go. Ahead were the tiger sharks, behind came Manalito.
As soon as the sharks scented blood they would attack. Around her feet the surf was already crimson. Without hesitation she flung herself into the water and flailed away from the shore. Compared to Manalito sharks were beautiful and kind.
Gasping with fear and pain Bianca gained deeper water. Inside her knee the knife blazed cold agonies. Unable to swim further, she reached down. The hilt felt loose, she pulled the blade free, choked on seawater and sank beneath the waves.
The knife fell from her grip, Bianca clawed her way to the surface. Behind her, a dark plume of blood spread through the ocean. A pressure wave pushed her aside as something huge surged past her. Bianca’s heart pounded madly, a black ring fringed her vision as if she looked along a dark tunnel. Where was the seaplane? Working her arms she lifted her head clear of the water and saw where it floated, a tiny, distant thing.
Nearby, a brutal equilateral fin cut the water. The sea around Bianca was black, she floated in a cloud of her own blood. Legs trailing behind, she swam with her arms towards the seaplane.
Time passed, ocean swells lifted and dropped her in their peaks and troughs. Bianca grew cold, her arms heavy, the muscles stiff and sluggish. Swimming became harder and harder, her efforts feeble. Mechanically, she moved her limbs and turned her head. Why bother? The water was velvet soft and warm as silk. It would be easier to drift, to let breath trickle between her lips and sink down, down into the blue-black depths.
Face down, Bianca drifted with the waves. The urge to breathe grew, then became irresistible. Primitive instincts compelled her body onwards.
Something hard and hollow bumped against her head. Bianca blinked and roused from her exhausted reverie. The sky was a bright dazzle, immediately in front of her water slapped and splashed against a brilliant white float. She hauled herself through the seaplane’s hatch.
Sprawled on the cabin floor, Bianca peeled off her clothes with soggy fingers and wrapped herself in a towel. She began to shiver violently. Her knee was swollen and rigid, the edges of the wounds blue-white. Bianca watched blood and salt water trickle down her shin and pool between her toes. A first aid kit was under the passenger seat. With shaking hands she sprayed analgesic and antiseptic sprays and applied a gauze bandage. Then she forced herself to look through the hatch.
Manalito stood on the beach looking towards her. Between them, sharks raced back and forth, thrill
ed by her blood scent. Bianca shuddered, locked the hatch and closed her eyes.
When she looked again, Manalito was still there. He paced from side to side, kicked at the surf and flung his arms into the air. Incoherent shouts came across the water.
Still weak, Bianca laughed at his impotence. Now their roles were reversed, she had food, shelter, and medicine, he was marooned on the waterless island. The container fed by the solar still was full of cool, sweet water. Bianca drank her fill and a surge of joy filled her – she was alive! She pushed open the hatch and yelled, ‘Hey, Manalito, shark god, rokea, listen to me. You did not kill me, I escaped. I beat you.’
Manalito bellowed an unintelligible response, tore off his shirt and flung it into the sea.
‘I am stronger than you,’ Bianca cried. ‘Stronger than your gods. You, the big man.’
Manalito roared and beat at his chest. He strode waist deep into the surf and spread his arms wide. Suddenly he gave a great shout and sank down to his shoulders. Then he surged forwards, the water parting against his bare torso in a foaming bow wave.
Horrified, Bianca watched him churn through the sea far faster than any man could swim. Manalito rose up, his chest and shoulders clear of the water. Once more he raised his arms, turned towards the seaplane and rushed forwards, a great wake churning behind.
Utter fear paralysed Bianca. Manalito truly was rokea, a death-god of the oceans He glared at her from a face bloodied, broken and wild-eyed with insane rage. Spume flew from his body, spittle from his mouth, red tears streamed from his eyes. He reached out for her with fingers bent like claws and gave vent to an appalling scream.
Manalito jerked down into the water. He screamed again and blood gushed from his mouth. Then he was dragged beneath the surface and Bianca saw a giant tiger shark swimming below and knew it had dragged him there with his legs in its jaws.
The shark passed under the seaplane. Manalito lay over the creature’s back, his eyes and mouth wide with astonishment, his arms trailing behind.
Slowly shock abated. Manalito really was dead and the dreadful nightmare was over.