Unable to bear the horror a moment longer, India turned and fled from the kitchen. But she got no further than the kitchen door, where she ran straight into Verity Brown standing in the open doorway.
‘Hello,’ said Verity. ‘I did knock but nobody heard me.’
The others gawped in shocked silence at the unexpected visitor. Just when Roshanne looked like she had recovered enough to speak, the towering figure of Calculus ducked through the doorframe and positioned himself next to his mistress.
‘Good grief!’ shrieked Roshanne. ‘What is that? Who are you? What are you doing in my house?’
‘Verity Brown,’ said Verity, extending a hand that nobody took. ‘I hope you don’t mind us dropping in like this? India said it would be OK.’ She smiled, displaying an even set of white teeth.
‘I most certainly do mind,’ said Roshanne. ‘You’re interrupting an important family occasion. And what do you mean, “India said it would be OK”?’ All eyes turned to India.
‘Mrs Brown works for the Company,’ she explained. ‘She needs our help.’
‘Well, now is not a convenient time to ask for it,’ said Roshanne. ‘India, you’ve no business inviting this woman here with her . . . her –’ she pointed to the android – ‘contraption.’
India smiled, enjoying Roshanne’s discomfort.
‘Don’t mind him, Mrs Bentley,’ said Verity, looking at Calculus. ‘He’s harmless, just a puppy really.’
‘I think he looks kind,’ said Bella, smiling at the android.
‘It’s a bloody robot, is what it is, and I don’t want it leaking oil in my kitchen. Make it go out – go on, shoo, shoo, you ghastly thing.’
‘Actually,’ said Calculus, ‘I am an android, not a robot. It’s a very different thing altogether.’
Verity glanced at Calculus and jerked her head imperceptibly. The android stopped talking and made a curious gesture, placing his palms together and bowing slightly. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘it would be better if I waited outside. Please call me if you need anything, Mrs Brown.’
‘That’s some machine you have there, Mrs Brown,’ said Clench when Calculus was safely outside. ‘I expect not much could stop him in his tracks, eh?’
‘Not much,’ said Verity. ‘Could we sit down? I won’t intrude for long.’
Roshanne and Bella quickly cleared the remains of the meal while India poured Verity a cup of acorn coffee from the pot on the stove.
‘Like India said, I represent the Trans-Siberian Mining Company,’ said Verity when they were all seated. ‘I’m here on business.’
‘Ah! So you’re from Angel Town,’ said Clench.
‘I’m from New York, Mr Clench, or what’s left of it. But I go wherever I can find work. I see you know about Angel Town. Have you ever been there?’
‘Well, er, maybe once.’ Clench looked uncomfortable. ‘A long time ago, I can’t say I remember it very well, though.’
‘It’s a frontier town, the last big outpost before you reach the wilderness. Every rigger in Siberia brings their iron and oil to sell in Angel Town, and Trans-Siberian owns the whole damn place.’
‘And what do you do in Angel Town, Mrs Brown?’ said Clench.
‘I make my living by finding things,’ said Verity. ‘Old things that used to be valuable, lost under the mud and the water.’
‘You mean you’re a scavenger?’
‘I didn’t say that, Mr Clench. Scavengers are only interested in dead-tech – junk that’s good for nothing but scrap. But I’m a licensed salvage operator, a tech-hunter. It’s a different thing altogether. My customers will only pay for stuff that’s still in working order and that’s very hard to find these days, unless you know where to look.’
Clench seemed impressed. ‘A tech-hunter eh? That’s a difficult job for a woman.’
‘Only the difficult stuff is worth doing, Mr Clench,’ she said. Her eyes held a glint of steel.
‘Mrs Brown,’ said Roshanne. ‘My husband was a mining engineer and I know perfectly well what Angel Town is. Now why don’t you tell us what you want so you can get back to bloody Siberia.’
India realized Roshanne was a little drunk.
‘Trans-Siberian is owned by one man,’ said Verity. ‘Lucifer Stone. He built the company from nothing and now he’s the richest man on the planet, the first person to become a millionaire after the Great Rains. He calls himself “The Director”.’ She took another sip of coffee. ‘But what Mr Stone is really interested in is technology from before the rains. Let me show you what I mean.’
Verity opened her satchel and started rummaging around, heaping various items on the kitchen table. India watched as the pile grew to include a wrench, several pieces of wire, a pair of pliers, a screwdriver, a glass valve, a circuit board, a small box with tiny buttons on it and some plastic disks that reflected the colours of the rainbow.
Clench picked up the little box and tried the buttons. ‘What does this do?’
‘It’s a speaking device,’ said Verity. ‘It’s called a “fone”. If you had one of these you could speak to anyone in the world, wherever they were.’
Clench looked at it with wonder. ‘Can I try it?’
‘You’re welcome to give it a go,’ she said with a small smile, ‘but it’s been under fifty feet of water for over a century, so my guess is you’re not going to get through to anyone.’
Clench put the device down with a sniff.
‘Here we go,’ said Verity, finding what she was looking for. She unfolded a large map and spread it out on the table. It was heavily creased and worn through in places.
‘That’s Siberia!’ said Bella proudly. ‘My dad showed me a map like that once.’ She prodded at the paper. ‘That’s the Ural Mountains and that’s the Laptev Sea.’
‘What are all those red dots?’ said India.
‘Tech mines,’ said Verity. ‘Concentrated pockets of old technology, lost under the water in cities, factories and hospitals. Most of it is low-grade stuff, waterlogged and useless. But occasionally one of these mines turns up something that’s worth good money. Computational engines, telegraphic devices, rocket propulsion systems—’
‘A fully working android?’ offered Clench.
‘Precisely so, Mr Clench,’ she said. ‘I found Calculus buried in a factory in China and I rebuilt him with my own hands. I’m very good at what I do.’
‘I don’t understand what this has to do with my husband,’ said Roshanne, pouring herself another glass of wine and spilling some of it on the map.
‘I was coming to that,’ said Verity. ‘Mr Stone wants to acquire as much working technology as possible so his people can take it apart and find out how to replicate it. He pays top money for it too.’ She lowered her voice. ‘What I’m going to tell you next is a closely guarded secret.’
Instinctively they drew closer.
‘There’s a story that says when the old-world governments knew the Great Rains were coming they built an underground storehouse out in the wilderness. Somewhere that would be safe from the floods. Then they filled it with the most valuable things in the world. Everything they’d need to rebuild society when the waters went down.’
‘You mean like the Ark in the Bible stories?’ said Bella, her eyes shining. ‘What sort of things did they put in there?’
‘Well, what would you put in it?’ said Verity. ‘Books? Medicines? Great works of art? A way to feed the hungry? Nobody knows for sure. The project was codenamed “Ironheart” and only a very few people knew about it. But then after the rains, the Hunger Wars started. The Chaos Years followed and amidst all the panic, the records about Ironheart were lost. As far as we know it’s still out there waiting to be found.’
Clench snorted. ‘That’s just an old rigger’s dream, Mrs Brown. Every drunk in Angel Town has a story to tell about the legend of Ironheart, not to mention a map that they’ll sell you, for a price.’
‘And that’s all it was, Mr Clench,’ said Verity, ‘just a legend. But that’s w
here John Bentley came in. A few years ago he was surveying for oil out here.’ She pointed to a desolate-looking spot on the map, surrounded by mountains. ‘It’s so remote it doesn’t even have an official name. The ice people call it Uliuiu Cherchekh. Hardly anyone has been there since the Great Rains. While he was there, he met a tribe of nomads who told him about a secret location under the mountains they called Aironhart. He became convinced they were talking about the same place. He made several more trips to the area to look for it. Unfortunately we have no record of what he found because most of his files were destroyed in a fire just before he went missing.’
A silence fell on the room. India remembered the day the news had arrived. It had been a simple letter, just stating the facts: John Bentley had gone missing in the mountains and there was no hope left of finding him alive. The letter had said what a fine employee he’d been, and his final pay cheque had been enclosed. The Company had subtracted the cost of the uniform he’d been wearing when he disappeared.
‘No one gave Ironheart any more thought,’ said Verity. ‘But then two weeks ago some of John Bentley’s old papers turned up unexpectedly in a packing crate. It was mostly survey notes and rock samples but in among them we found this.’
She placed a flat piece of iron on the table. It was a nameplate, the sort you might put on a door or a gate post. It was black and pitted and inscribed with one word. Aironhart.
India ran a finger over the rough surface. ‘What does it mean?’
‘It may be nothing but it could mean your father found what he was looking for,’ said Verity. ‘If he did, then he decided to keep it a secret for some reason.’
‘But why would he do that?’ said India.
‘Well, Angel Town is a dangerous place. Perhaps he had enemies there. But Mr Stone is very keen to learn what your father knew That’s why he’s paying me to find out.’
‘Paying you?’ said Clench, suddenly alert.
‘Why don’t Trans-Siberian just go and look for Ironheart themselves?’ said India.
‘They’ve tried,’ said Verity, ‘but it’s a vast and remote territory. In the summer it’s a swampland filled with biting insects and in the winter the temperature is minus sixty and the ground is frozen solid. If Ironheart is there, it’s probably buried deep underground. You could be standing on top of it and never know Mrs Bentley,’ she said, turning to Roshanne. ‘If I can find out where your husband was looking, I can help the company to mount a proper expedition.’
Roshanne drained her glass. ‘Well, good luck, Mrs Brown,’ she slurred. ‘But I really don’t know what any of this has to do with me.’
‘I was hoping he might have left you with some personal record of his work. Navigation charts, a diary perhaps? Something that could give us a clue as to where to start looking.’
‘What about Dad’s journals?’ said India. ‘Whenever he got home he’d always update his notebooks.’
Verity seized on her words. ‘His journals? Yes, I think that might be the very thing – may I see them?’
‘Let’s not be too hasty.’ Clench narrowed his eyes. ‘Those journals are the property of this dear lady and her recently bereaved family.’ He adopted a pained expression. ‘There might be personal revelations in there.’ He turned to Roshanne. ‘I think, my dear, it would not be wise to share them with this woman.’
‘Mrs Bentley,’ said Verity firmly. ‘When the Great Rains came, they stopped human civilization in its tracks. Since then we’ve gone back to the Dark Ages, scratching a living from melting down old junk and eating poisoned food.’ She glanced at the cooking pot on the stove, which was still emitting vile smells. ‘Ironheart just might hold secrets that could help us feed the world properly again. It could save thousands, if not millions, of lives.’
‘Feed the world?’ said India. ‘Dad always said they knew how to do that before the Great Rains.’
‘And we might learn how to do it again,’ said Verity. ‘So I’m asking you, Mrs Bentley, to please help me find this place. Do it for the memory of your husband.’
‘The memory of my husband! Let me tell you about the memory of my husband, Mrs Brown. Five years I was married to that man. Five years of waiting for him to come home from yet another wretched expedition while I dragged up his brats in this mud hole.’
‘Roshanne!’ said India, shocked.
‘I understand,’ said Verity slowly, ‘that it must have been very difficult for you.’
‘You understand nothing.’ Roshanne took another slug of wine and rubbed her eyes, smearing black grease across her face. ‘After five years of being a loving and devoted wife I got nothing for my troubles, not a penny! That man was a complete waster, so don’t give me any of this “Do it for the memory of your husband” rubbish. If you want something from me, Mrs Brown, you and your Mr Stone are going to have to pay for it!’
India looked at Bella. Her little sister’s blue eyes had filled with tears as Roshanne ranted about their father.
‘That’s enough!’ said India, jumping to her feet. ‘I won’t let you say those things about Dad. He looked after us and kept us safe – which is more than you’ve ever done!’
‘What do you know about it?’ slurred Roshanne. ‘You’re just a child!’
‘I’m old enough for you to marry me off to that sleazebag, just so you can live in a nice house!’
‘You poisonous brat!’
‘You drunken old witch!’
Roshanne lunged unsteadily at India, lost her balance and collapsed to the floor with a squeal. ‘You little minx!’ she yelped as Clench helped her up. You’re not too young for me to thrash your backside.’ She attempted to chase India around the table, leaning on Clench for support.
The farce might have gone on for some time if Bella hadn’t screamed. She was standing beside the window looking panicked. ‘Stop it, all of you! There are people outside our house and they’ve got sticks and things.’
No sooner had Bella spoken than a windowpane shattered and a small rock rolled across the floor. Bella squealed again and ran to hide behind India. They peered through the broken window and saw an angry-looking group of people gathered a short distance from the house carrying sticks and burning torches. Mehmet was standing at the front of the group.
The sound of the kitchen door bursting open made them all jump again as Calculus ducked quickly inside. He slammed the door shut and pressed his weight against it.
‘You had better come quickly, Mrs Brown,’ he said. ‘We’ve got big trouble outside.’
CHAPTER 4
HONEST FOLK
It looked like nearly all of the village had gathered at the end of their path and they did not look happy. The men swung sticks and farm tools restlessly while the women hung back, arms crossed tightly across their chests.
‘What’s happening?’ whispered Verity as they stepped outside.
‘A group of locals, Mrs Brown,’ said Calculus. ‘Apparently they have found our motorbike and assumed we are southsiders. They demand the release of our “hostages”.’
‘How many?’
‘I count forty-seven people in all. They have various farm implements, six projectile weapons, mostly shotguns, and one machine gun. But I very much doubt that it’s working.’
‘Very reassuring,’ said Verity. ‘Well, so much for getting in and out without being seen. I’ll go and talk to them.’
‘Wait,’ said India. ‘They’re shore dwellers and they’re suspicious of strangers. Let me talk to them.’
She started down the path, with damp palms and a dry mouth. Most of the families in their village had lost people in the last year. If the crowd really thought they had the chance to take revenge on a pair of southsiders, it might be difficult to control them.
At the front of the group stood Mehmet, picking his nose. Cromerty was next to him, grinning toothlessly as though she was out for a pleasant stroll.
‘Hello, deary, lovely evening, ain’t it?’
‘Where’s your mum, India?
’ said Mehmet, ignoring the old woman.
‘Roshanne’s inside,’ said India. ‘She’s OK. We’re all OK. What are you all doing here?’
The constable wiped his fingers on the seat of his trousers and drew himself up to his full height.
‘We’ve come for the southsiders. Two of the boys found their machine.’ He pointed to the motorbike which lay overturned in the shallow waters at the bottom of the hill. ‘Now we’re going to teach them a lesson once and for all.’ The crowd grumbled and pressed forward. From the corner of her eye India saw Calculus shift his position slightly.
‘Wait, Mehmet, these people aren’t southsiders. They’re from Trans-Siberian Mining, where Dad used to work.’
‘Then why did they sneak into our village at night unannounced?’ He jabbed a finger towards Calculus. ‘With a military droid?’
‘It’s true what India says,’ said Verity, coming to her side. ‘We’re here on business. We just want some information, that’s all.’
‘We don’t give information to strangers,’ said a young man with a face full of ripe pimples. He yanked out an ancient pistol that was thick with rust. ‘A raiding party took my sister last year,’ he said, pointing the gun at Verity. ‘So now I’m going to shoot me a southsider.’
India flinched. But before she could speak, a blur of motion rushed past her. Something impacted heavily with the boy, who went flying backwards. India blinked; a moment earlier, Calculus had been standing ten feet behind her, but now he was crouching over the boy, who was groaning and clutching his chest.
The crowd pushed forward aggressively and a man at the front swung an axe at Calculus. He side-stepped it with ease and swept the man off his feet. A rock sailed over the heads of the crowd and thumped on to the path beside India.
‘Stop it, stop it!’ she cried. But her voice was carried away on a tide of anger.
‘Come on, India,’ said Verity, pulling India away. ‘Let’s go – quickly, before someone gets badly hurt.’
‘See, I told you you’d be going on a journey, India,’ laughed Cromerty. She began waving a handkerchief in a gesture of farewell.
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