by Guy Salvidge
A pistol.
Rion picked up the pistol and handed it to Sylvia. She opened the magazine and found it fully loaded. “I knew that Preparedness training would come in handy one day,” she said, snapping the barrel shut again.
“Let’s take a look outside, shall we?”
She nodded and they approached the transparent sliding doors. The doors opened into a small annex leading to a second pair of doors.
The heat hit them first and the blinding light second. The cool of the barracks already a memory, they wavered at the threshold like lunatics too timid to flee an asylum. The gaudy spires and ziggurats of Yellowcake Springs’s CBD were visible in the distance, but the street before them was practically empty.
“We’re in the Amber Zone,” she said. “I know roughly where we are.” She scanned the scene, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“How do we get out of town?” he asked. It was far too hot to blunder around in this heat.
“Easier said than done. I’m supposed to be working for Lyncoln Rose, she can probably get us out.”
“That police chief? I’m supposed to be doing something for her too. I’m not sure what, though, she didn’t really go into much detail.”
“Well, she said she was sending me in after you, but I didn’t believe that. No offence.”
“She probably just wanted us to spy on Sinocorp through the SCAs.”
“She did hint at something else, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was all about. Basically I was to play along with Jeremy.”
“Well, I think her plan’s gone pear-shaped.”
A lone vehicle came around the bend at the top of the street and made its way toward them along the empty pedestrian concourse. The vehicle was made of translucent green glass and it was shaped like a teardrop. It glided to a silent stop a few metres in front of them and the side opened up.
A man stepped out of the vehicle onto the hot concrete. It was Jeremy Peters and he strode toward them. Sylvia levelled the pistol at him but he seemed not to notice. “Put that away,” he said, walking between them. “Let’s get out of this heat, we can talk inside.” He walked straight past them into the barracks. Rion and Sylvia looked at one another and followed him in. It was at least twenty degrees cooler in here and quite dark after coming in off the street.
Jeremy went over to the foyer desk and opened the drawer. “Ah, you grabbed that one,” he said, closing the drawer.
“Put your hands up,” Sylvia said, pointing the pistol at him again.
He raised his hands but there was a tired smile on his face. “You won’t shoot me,” he said.
“Won’t I?”
“No. If you do, you’ll never be allowed to leave Yellowcake Springs. Think you can get past the border guards with that pop gun?”
Sylvia said nothing but she didn’t lower her aim.
“No, you are both clever people,” he said. “Extremely clever. And clever people don’t do reckless things unless it’s in their best interest to do so.”
“Maybe I’m feeling reckless,” she said, moving closer. “And maybe I don’t know what’s in my best interest after you had me hooked up to that fucking thing you’ve got in there!”
“Sylvia... ”
“Don’t try to sweet-talk me now, dickhead.” She pointed the gun at his head and his face went white.
“All right, I can explain,” he said, backing into a corner, his hands shielding his face.
“Explain quickly,” Rion said. “Why did you bring us here? Lui Ping, too.”
“I had big plans for you,” Jeremy said. His back against the wall, he was slowly sliding down to the floor. “I thought you could help me to resolve the Misanthropos situation.” He clutched his chest and his breath seemed increasingly laboured.
“What does that have to do with Lijia and Rion?” Sylvia asked.
His legs bent at the knees, Jeremy’s behind finally reached the ground and he slumped forward. “I’m just... doing my... job,” he said, in snatches.
Sylvia lowered the gun. “What’s up with you?”
“My chest.” His breath came shallow and irregular.
Rion heard a noise behind him and turned. A woman was walking through the annex. “Hide the gun,” he said to Sylvia, and she concealed it a moment before the woman reached the foyer.
“What’s happening here?” the woman demanded. She was a Chinese woman dressed in an executive suit with a CIQ Sinocorp button pinned to her lapel. She looked at the figure propped up against the wall. “What have you done to Mr Peters?”
“Nothing,” Rion said. “He’s had a heart attack, I think.”
“Is that so?” She did not seem troubled by this. “You must be Orion Saunders and Sylvia Baron. Is the third one still here?”
“She’s asleep,” Sylvia said. “Her daughter is too. She’s just a child.”
The woman nodded. She stood over Jeremy but did not stoop to offer him any assistance.
“Who are you?” Rion asked her.
The woman looked at him. “My name’s Lillian Chu. I’m the deputy head of Security here at Yellowcake Springs. There’s been a serious incident at the main gate, so I’m afraid you’ll both have to come with me. That man there is my supervisor but I’m afraid he has a great number of things to answer for, not least the illegal detention of Australian citizens.”
Jeremy was still breathing loudly but he made no motion to show that he had understood what was being said.
“I think maybe you just earned yourself a promotion,” Rion said.
17. Fall Guy
Jeremy sat helpless and alone in the Scimitar’s conference room, waiting for the silver circle in the middle of the table to start glowing. It was late in the day and the medics had just given him the all-clear, which meant they considered him fit to face the Grand Director. The lights were dimmed but the open door to the observation platform let in a sliver of sunlight. From where he sat, Jeremy could see the lengthening shadows cast by the towers of the Amber Zone.
Someone came into the room and he looked up to see who it was: Lillian, her game face on. She didn’t smile, just sat down on the opposite side of the hardwood table. He looked at her across the table as its centre began to glow. She’d positioned herself in such a way that when Li appeared, he would be between her and Jeremy.
The Grand Director materialised before them. Jeremy took a sip of water and tried to look Li in the eye.
“Three protesters dead and seventeen injured, two of them critically,” the Grand Director said. “To say that it will be a media frenzy would be putting it mildly. I must offer them a scapegoat and it will be one or both of you. Jeremy?”
“I sent Lillian down this morning to speak to the protesters,” he said. “She said it wasn’t a problem.”
Li nodded. “Lillian?”
“I did as Mr Peters asked. I spoke to the protesters briefly and then waited for further instruction.” She spoke calmly and precisely. “Mr Peters asked me to wait thirty minutes longer. I was just about to leave when the first explosion occurred.”
“And what was the nature of this explosion?”
“A grenade attack,” Lillian said. “The protesters began throwing incendiary grenades at the gatehouse.”
“And who gave the guards the order to retaliate?”
“I was on the fliptop to Lillian at the time, sir,” Jeremy said. “I expressly forbade the use of lethal force. The conversation will be on record.”
“I gave no order to attack,” Lillian said. “The guards merely defended the gate as per their standing orders.”
“A handful of protesters throwing grenades at a billion-dollar gatehouse protecting a trillion dollar enterprise,” Li mused. “And we gunned them down. It is a complete disaster for the company. The share price is down thirty percent already and it will go lower on Monday. Do you realise what kind of money we’re talking about, here?”
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy said. “A lot of money.”
“Very well.” The
Grand Director sighed and he looked weary beyond reckoning, his face so heavily lined that it seemed in danger of collapsing in on itself. “I myself must bear the ultimate responsibility for appointing you Director of Security in the first place. I, too, have made a serious error.”
Jeremy bowed his head.
“Let us move onto the second topic for the time being,” Li continued.
“Second topic, sir?” Jeremy asked.
The Grand Director looked into him. “Yes. My understanding is as follows: upon being notified by Lillian that the main gate was under attack, you left the Eye and went to the gate. By the time you arrived there, the attack had been repelled and the Australian Federal Police had taken charge outside the gate.”
“It is their country, sir.”
“Indeed. It was at this time that you received another call, this one urging you to return to the special operations barracks as a second incident was unfolding there. You left Lillian in sole charge of the border – an action I consider tantamount to deserting your post – while you went to the barracks, where three Controlled Waking State participants had escaped from detention. Two of the three are Australian citizens and had been illegally detained by you for the purpose of this trial. The third is a Chinese national and thus of no consequence.”
“I was trying to resolve the protest situation, sir, as you requested. One of the three is Sylvia Baron, a key figure in the protest movement.”
Li did not look at Jeremy. He loomed. “By all accounts you have been drinking heavily all day. The surveillance footage captures it, as do the accounts of several eyewitnesses. The Eye’s cleaning crew report that they were obliged to clean vomit from one of the lifts shortly after you left this afternoon. The technicians at the barracks say they smelled alcohol on your breath this morning and that you spent an inordinate amount of time in one of the inmates’ cells. They further state that yesterday you asked them several questions of a suggestive nature regarding the possibilities offered by CWS. Quote: ‘So you could fuck someone but not kiss them?’ Unquote. You said that your purpose in detaining Sylvia Baron was to provide Orion Saunders with a ‘playmate.’ This is the exact term you used.”
“The technicians are just trying to cover themselves,” Jeremy said. “They failed in their duties, allowing the three participants to exit CWS, and then they abandoned their posts.”
“This may be so, and the technicians will likely face severe punishment, but do you not dispute these allegations? They are most grievous.”
“I went to the barracks because if I had not, Yellowcake Springs would have had a second breach on its hands,” Jeremy said.
“And yet you insisted on attending in person, not because there were no Security operatives at your disposal, but because the special operations barracks was your pet project and you didn’t want anyone to know about it.”
“Lillian knows about it.”
“I followed Mr Peters as he had left the gate without telling anyone where he was going,” Lillian said. “I had to make a snap decision. When I arrived at the barracks, I found Mr Peters passed out in the reception area. Orion Saunders and Sylvia Baron were thus not in Mr Peters’ custody, but they fully cooperated with my requests and came peacefully thereafter.”
“So, Lillian,” Li said, “what you’re painting for me here is a picture of you, left to juggle two serious incidents due to the negligence of your supervisor. In the incident at the gate, you managed as best you could without his assistance but you were unable to prevent bloodshed, and in the second incident, you were able to defuse the situation where your supervisor had completely failed to do so.”
“Correct, sir,” she said.
“Then that will be all, Lillian. Enjoy what’s left of your weekend.”
“Sir?”
“That will be all.”
Lillian stood stiffly and left the room. Jeremy did not look up to see her go.
“I have made a grave error of judgement,” the Grand Director said. “Perhaps the gravest of my career. Now I must try to undo it.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“There goes any hope of expanding the Protectorate. There were rumblings before this, but now there will be a thunderstorm of dissent from the Australians.”
“Do we know why the protesters threw grenades, sir? This comes as a great surprise to me. Their leaders had not displayed violent inclinations prior to this.”
“It comes as a surprise to me also,” Li said. “I suspect that the incident has been engineered, and that the protesters have themselves been duped. After all, they had no chance of storming the guardhouse. Their actions were suicidal.”
“Lyncoln Rose, the AFP Superintendent,” Jeremy said. “This could well have been her doing.”
“Perhaps. You have given them a free shot at us, Jeremy, and they have taken it gladly. I asked you to resolve the matter without violence and this is how you respond.”
“I gave no order – ”
“ – it amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? It is down to your negligence.”
“Then I shall tender my resignation immediately,” Jeremy said.
“You’ll do a good deal more than that. You’ll be hung, drawn and quartered in the Australian press and I will have your full cooperation while we wash our hands of you. I swear, you’ll be lucky to escape execution.”
“Lillian will be pleased.”
“I should have made her Director of Security after Yang Po. I erred.”
Jeremy thought about it. “I wish you had.”
Li nodded. “Now I must arrange for the two Australians to be repatriated. We must not provoke the Australian Government further by detaining these two any longer than necessary.”
“Sir, a question.”
“Quickly.”
“Do you know who killed Robert Given? The trail is cold.”
Li smiled. “I did, or rather I authorised it. No one sleeps with the wife of one of my Directors without his permission.”
“And you locked me out of the Security files?”
“Of course.” The Grand Director raised his hand to signify that the conversation was over.
“And Yang Po, Grand Director? Did he really suffer a heart attack or was it just that he displeased you in some way?”
Li stared at him. “Yang Po displeased me and he suffered a heart attack. You displeased and you also suffered a heart attack, albeit a minor one. Coincidence?”
Li winked out and Jeremy was left alone again. He walked over to the door and out onto the observation platform. It was shortly after dusk and a strong westerly wind had cooled the evening air, making it pleasant on the skin. He stood watching the red light retreating over the ocean from one of the highest points in Yellowcake Springs, the Scimitar’s tip. He looked down over the Red Zone and the reactors and thought again of Lui Ping. She’d be sent with her daughter back to China now, and in a few weeks this whole thing would seem to her like a strange interlude in an otherwise tedious existence.
Something was buzzing in his pocket. The fliptop, of course. He opened it and there stood his wife, Hui. He hadn’t spoken to her in days.
“I’ve been fired,” he said. “Or I’m being made to resign. Either way.”
She nodded. “I’m moving to China. They say things are going to get nasty around here.”
“So this is the end for you and I, isn’t it?”
“You know it is.”
“I know. I didn’t kill Robert Given. I had nothing to do with that. I know who did kill him, though.”
“Want to tell me?”
“I can’t. It’s a Security matter. You understand.”
“I see,” she said. “Goodbye, Jeremy.”
“Goodbye, Hui.”
He closed the fliptop.
There wasn’t much left for him to do after that, so he sat on the bench on the platform for a while observing the coming night. The lights of Yellowcake Springs burned emptily and he saw the place for what it was, an oasis of civi
lisation, just a soap bubble rising in the night. He went over to the railing and looked down at the street below. Not much moved down there, the town was in lockdown tonight.
He lingered, not wanting to go home for fear of running into Hui packing her bags. He couldn’t face that. He could stay here on the platform as long as he liked. They hadn’t taken away his Security access yet.
He’d done this to himself, of course. He’d been on a fatal trajectory for some considerable time. He wasn’t bitter. Something had gone out of him, some light. He hauled himself over the railing and stood on the narrow ledge looking down, careful not to slip when it looked like a group of pedestrians might pass along the concourse in front of the Scimitar.
It’d taken Jeremy his whole career to ascend to this position, to this power and this privilege. Decades of diligence, of intimidating those who could be intimidated and appeasing those who must be appeased, lay behind him. He’d plunged knives where he’d had to plunge them and shown mercy where he could. He hadn’t wanted much more than to be left to his devices, which mainly consisted of unlimited access to fine food, fine drink and good company.
He stepped out into nothing.
18. The Deal
Somewhere deep within the bowels of the AFP office in downtown Perth, Sylvia entered an interview room and sat across a table from Eli Dennis-Singh. It was Sunday the 15th of January and today she’d been released from one form of custody into another. The door was locked behind her and the police officers remained on the outside, but at least it was cool in here. One whole side of Eli’s face was a mass of bruising.
“They hurt you?” she asked.
“No, I fell,” he replied. “Into their fists.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I see they haven’t touched you,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.”
“I heard about Tamara,” she said.
“She’ll live, but I hear that her femur will have to be completely rebuilt. Depleted uranium shell, you know. Luckily she didn’t take it in the head.”
“I’m so sorry, Eli.”
He waved her apology away. “You took your chances and I took mine. You weren’t to know.”