“Louise!” Gen yelped.
“Not negotiable,” Louise said.
“Of course,” Charlie said. “It will be done.”
Gen put her hands on her hips. “I won’t go.”
“You have to, darling. You’ll be safe there. Really safe, not like this planet.”
“Good. Then you come, too.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” The little girl was fighting tears. “Fletcher wants you to be safe. You know he does.”
“I know. But I’m the guarantee that he’ll do as he’s asked.”
“Of course he’ll kill Dexter. He hates him, you know he does. How can you even think anything else. That’s awful of you, Louise.”
“I don’t think badly of Fletcher. But other people do.”
“Charlie doesn’t. Do you, Charlie?”
“I certainly don’t. But the other members of B7 will need assurances.”
“I hate you!” Gen screamed. “I hate all of you. And I won’t go to Tranquillity.” She ran off back over the lawns towards the house.
“Dear me,” Charlie said. “I do hope she’ll be all right.”
“Oh shut up,” Louise snapped. “At least have the courage to acknowledge what you are. Or is that something else you’ve lost along with the rest of your humanity?”
Just for an instant, she caught sight of his true self in a flickering expression of annoyance. A centuries-old consciousness regarding her dispassionately through its youthful doll. His body was an illusion more skilful than any reality dysfunction the possessed had achieved. Everything he did, every emotion shown, was simply a mental state he switched on when it became appropriate. Five hundred years of life had reduced him to a bundle of near-automatic responses to his environment. Very clever responses, but they weren’t rooted in anything she could recognize as human. Wisdom had evolved him far beyond his origin.
She hurried off after Gen.
The link to the Halo was organized to go through a big holoscreen in one of the house’s lounges. Louise sat on a sofa opposite, with Gen cuddled up at her side. The younger girl was all cried out, and the battle of wills had been won. After this, she’d be packed off to Tranquillity. That didn’t make Louise feel much better.
Blue lines rippled away from the front of the holoscreen, then a picture swivelled into focus. Fletcher was sitting at some metallic desk, dressed in his full English Navy uniform. He blinked, peering forwards, then smiled.
“My dear ladies. I cannot tell you how gladdened I am to see you safe.”
“Hello, Fletcher,” Louise said. “Are you all right?” Gen was all sunny smiled, waving furiously at his image.
“It would appear so, my Lady Louise. The scholars of this age have kept me busy indeed, testing and prodding my poor bones with their machines. Much good it has done them. They freely admit Our Lord guards the mysteries of his universe jealously.”
“I know,” Louise said. “Nobody down here has a clue what to do.”
“And you, Lady Louise. How are you and the little one faring?”
“I’m okay,” Genevieve blurted spryly. “We’ve met a policeman called Charlie, who’s a dictator. I don’t like him much, but he did get us out of London before things got too bad.”
Louise laid a hand on Gen’s arm, silencing her. “Fletcher, Quinn Dexter is down here. He’s running loose in London. I’m supposed to ask, will you help track him down?”
“My lady, that fiend has bested me before. We escaped by God’s grace and a fortuitous quantity of luck. I fear I would be of little use against him.”
“Charlie has a weapon that might work if we can get it close enough to him. It has to be a possessed carrying it, no one else stands a chance. Fletcher, it’s going to get really bad down here if he isn’t stopped. The only alternative the authorities have is to kill lots of people. Millions possibly.”
“Aye lady, I already hear the souls stirring in anticipation of what is to come. Many many bodies are being made available for their occupation, with promises of more. I fear the time of reckoning draws nigh. All men will soon have to choose where their hearts lie.”
“Will you come down, then?”
“Of course, my dear lady. How could I ever refuse your request?”
“I’ll meet you in London, then. Charlie has made all the arrangements. Genevieve won’t be there, she’s going to Tranquillity.”
“Ah. I believe I understand. Treachery lurks under every stone along the path we tread.”
“He’s doing what he thinks he has to.”
“The excuse of many a tyrant,” he said sadly. “Little one? I want you to promise me you will cause your sister no distress as you leave for this magical flying castle. She loves you dearly and wishes no harm to befall you.”
Genevieve clutched at Louise’s arm, trying hard not to blub. “I won’t. But I don’t want to leave either of you. I don’t want to be left alone.”
“I know, little one, but Our Lord tells us that only the virtuous can be brave. Show courage for me, be safe even if it means forgoing those who love you. We will be reunited after victory.”
Chapter 08
Right from the start, Al knew it was going to be a bad day.
First it was the body. Al was hardly a stranger to blood, he’d seen and been responsible for enough slaughter in his time, but this was turning his stomach. It had been a while before anyone noticed poor old Bernhard Allsop was missing. Who was going to care that the little weasel wasn’t getting underfoot like usual? It was only when he skipped a couple of duty details that Leroy finally got round to asking where he was. Even then, it wasn’t an urgent request. Bernhard’s processor block didn’t respond to datavises, so everyone assumed he was goofing off. A couple of guys were asked to keep an eye out. After another day, Leroy was concerned enough to bring it up at a meeting of senior lieutenants. A search was organized.
The security cameras found him eventually. At least, they located the mess. Confirming first what, then who it was had to be done in person.
There was a quite extraordinary amount of blood smearing the floor, walls, and ceiling. So much so, Al figured that more than one person had been whacked. But Emmet Mordden said the quantity was about right for a single adult male.
Al lit a cigar, puffing heavily. Not for pleasure; the smoke covered the smell of decaying flesh. Patricia’s face was creased up in dismay as they stood around the corpse. Emmet held a handkerchief over his nose as he examined the remains.
The face was recognisably Bernhard. Though even now Al remained slightly doubtful. It was as though the skin had been roughly rearranged into Bernhard’s features. A caricature rather than a natural face. Al had seen doctored photos before, this was the body equivalent.
“You’re sure?” Al asked Emmet, who was prodding the blood-drenched clothing with a long stylus.
“Pretty much, Al. These are his clothes. That’s his processor block. And you can’t expect his face to be a close match, we only see illusions of each other, remember. His body’s face was becoming him, but it takes time.”
Al grunted, and took another look. The skin had shrunk to wrap tightly round the skull and jaw; a lot of capillaries had ruptured, and the eyeballs had burst. He turned away. “Yeah, okay.”
Emmet plucked the processor block from Bernhard’s rigid, clawed fingers, and gestured a couple of non-possessed medical orderlies to take over. They manoeuvred the desiccated corpse into a body bag. Both of them were sweating badly, struggling against nausea.
“So what happened?” Al asked.
“He was trapped in here by the pressure doors, then someone opened the airlock.”
“I thought that was impossible.”
“This airlock’s been tricked out,” Patricia said. “I checked. The electronic safeties were blown to shit, and someone sliced through the swing rods.”
“You mean it was a proper professional hit,” Al said.
Emmet was keying commands into Bernhard’s block
. There were few coherent responses, small blue spirals of light drifted through the holographic screen, fracturing any icons which did emerge from the management program. “I think somebody datavised a virus into this. I’ll have to link it up to a desktop and run a diagnostic to be sure. But he wasn’t able to call for help.”
“Kiera,” Al said. “She did this. Nothing tripped the alarms. They knew he’d be using this corridor, and when. It takes organization to set up a hit this smart. She’s the only one up here who could pull it off.”
Emmet scraped at the bloody wall with the tip of his stylus. By now, the blood had dried to a fragile black film. Tiny dark flakes snowed away from the composite instrument. “Several days old, even taking vacuum boiling into account,” Emmet said. “Bernhard never turned up for his assignment during the victory party, so I guess that’s when it was done.”
“Gives Kiera an alibi,” Patricia said, sullen with resentment.
“Hey!” Al spat. “There ain’t no goddamn federal courts up here. She doesn’t get no fancy lawyer to smartmouth her out of this by screwing the jury’s mind. If I say she did it, then that’s it. Period. The bitch is guilty.”
“She won’t give herself up easily,” Patricia said. “The way she’s been stirring things over Trafalgar, the fleet is starting to get jittery about the Navy retaliating. She’s got a lot of support, Al.”
“Shit!” Al glared at the body bag, cursing Bernhard. Why couldn’t the little asshole be stronger? Fight back against the bastards who whacked him, at least take a couple of them back to the beyond with him. Save me all this grief.
He relented. Bernhard had been loyal right from the moment he swung by in his make-believe Oldsmobile and picked up Al back in San Angeles. In fact that loyalty was probably what got him whacked. Chew away at the middle ranks, the really valuable ones, and you erode the power base of the guy at the top.
That motherfucking bitch.
“This is interesting.” Emmet was bending down to examine part of the corridor floor at one end of the bloodstain. “These marks here. Could be footprints.”
Suddenly interested, Al went over to take a look. The splotches of dried blood were roughly the right shape and size of someone’s boot sole. There were eight of them, becoming progressively smaller as they led towards the airlock.
He laughed abruptly. Goddamn. I’m doing fucking detective work! Me, a cop.
“I get it,” he said. “If they made prints, then the blood was still wet, right? That means it happened around the time Bernhard was killed.”
Emmet grinned. “You don’t need me.”
“Sure I do.” Al clapped him on the shoulder. “Emmet, my boy, you just made chief of police for this whole crummy rock. I want to know who did this, Emmet. I really want to know.”
Emmet scratched the back of his head, looking round the grisly murder scene, thinking out what needed to be done. These days, getting put on the spot by Al hardly affected his bladder at all. “A forensic team would be useful. I’ll check with Avram, see if we’ve got any police lab people that I can use up here.”
“If there ain’t, get them sent up from the planet,” Al said.
“Right.” Emmet was looking at the pressure door. “The guys doing the hit must have been close; that’s the only way to stop him from getting out. Breaking through a door like this would be no problem to a possessed, even Bernhard.” His stylus tapped the glass port in the middle of the door. “See? There’s no blood on this, even though it’s sprayed across the rest of the surface. They probably took a look at him, make sure he was dead.”
“If they stayed on the other side of the door, where did the footprints come from?”
“Dunno.” Emmet shrugged.
“This corridor got any of those police spy cameras fitted?”
“Yeah. I’ll review all their memories, but it’s pretty doubtful, Al. These guys are pros.”
“See what you can find for me, my boy. And in the meantime, pass the word, I want you guys taking a few precautions. Bernhard’s only the start. She’s gunning for all of us. And I can’t afford to lose any more of you. Capeesh?”
“I hear you, Al.”
“That’s good. Patricia, I think maybe we should return the compliment.”
Patricia’s thoughts swelled with dark delight. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Hit the bitch hard, someone she relies on. What’s that rat-face SOB always following her round? Got the psychic shit with the hellhawks?”
“Hudson Proctor.”
“That’s the guy. Bust his ass back to the beyond. But make sure he suffers some first, okay?”
There was a bunch of people waiting for Al when he got back to the Nixon suite. Leroy and Silvano, talking in low tones with Jez; worry hovering round them like a persistent fog. One guy (possessed) that Al didn’t recognize, who was being covered by a couple of his soldiers. The stranger had a head filled with the strongest thoughts Al had ever come across. His mind burned on pure anger alone. It deepened a shade when Al came in.
“Je-zus, what is going down here? Silvano?”
“Don’t you remember me, Al?” the stranger asked. The tone was dangerously mocking. His clothes began to change, flowing into the full dress uniform for a lieutenant commander in the Confederation Navy. His face changed as well, stirring Al’s memory.
Jezzibella gave Al a nervous flicker of a smile. “Kingsley Pryor’s back,” she said.
“Hey, Kingsley!” Al smiled broadly. “Man, is it good to see you. Shit, you’re a fucking hero around these parts. You did it, man, you actually fucking did it. You wiped out the whole Confederation Navy single-handed. Can you believe this shit?”
Kingsley Pryor produced the kind of wide-eyed smile that troubled even Al. He wondered if the two soldiers were enough to keep the Navy man down.
“You just go right ahead believing that shit,” Kingsley said. “That’s fine by me. In the meantime, I killed fifteen thousand people for you. Now it’s time for you to keep your end of the bargain. I want my wife, my child, and I’ve decided I want a starship, too. That’s a little bonus you’re going to award me for completing my mission.”
Al spread his arms wide, his thoughts the epitome of reasonableness. “Well, hell, Kingsley, the agreement was you blow up Trafalgar from the inside.”
“GIVE ME CLARISSA AND WEBSTER.”
Al swayed back a pace. Kingsley was actually glowing: a light deep inside his body had flicked on, illuminating his face and uniform. Except for the eyes, they sucked light down. Both soldiers nervously tightened their grip on the Thompson machine guns they were holding.
“All right,” Al said, attempting to calm things down. “Jezus, Kingsley, we’re all on the same side here.” He conjured up a Havana and held it out, smiling.
“Wrong.” Kingsley stuck a rigid finger in the air, preacher-style, and slowly levelled it at Al. “Don’t talk to me about taking sides, you piece of shit. I have died because of you. I have slaughtered my comrades because of you. So don’t you ever ever think you can tell me anything about faith, or trust, or loyalty. Now you either give me my wife and my son, or we settle this right here and now.”
“Hey, I ain’t holding nothing back. What you want, you got. Al Capone don’t break his word. You understand that? We had an agreement. That’s like solid greenback currency around here these days. And I don’t never welsh. Never! You understand? All I got here is my name, that is all I am worth. So you don’t go questioning that. I appreciate how fucked off you are. Okay, you got that right after what’s happened. But you don’t ever say to no one I went back on my promise.”
“Give me my wife and son.”
Al couldn’t understand how Kingsley’s teeth didn’t shatter, the man was crunching his jaw so hard. “No problem. Silvano, take Lieutenant-commander Pryor here to his wife and kid.”
Silvano nodded, and gestured Pryor to the door.
“And nobody laid a finger on them while you were gone,” Al said. “You remember that.�
�
Pryor turned at the door. “Don’t worry, Mr Capone, I won’t forget anything that’s happened here.”
Al sank down into the nearest chair when he’d gone. His arm curved round Jez for comfort, only to find she was trembling. “Je-zus H Christ fucking wept,” Al wheezed.
“Al,” Jez said firmly. “You have got to get rid of him. He frightened the bejezus out of me. Maybe sending him to Trafalgar wasn’t one of my better ideas.”
“Too fucking true. Leroy, for Christ’s sake tell me you found that kid of his.”
Leroy was running a finger round his collar. He looked scared. “We didn’t, Al. I don’t know where the little brat’s gone. We looked everywhere. He just vanished.”
“Fuck-a-doodle. Kingsley’s going to blow when he finds out. It’ll be a bloodbath. Leroy, you’d better start calling in some of the guys. And no fucking marshmallows, either. It’s going to take a lot of us to pound him.”
“And then he can come straight back into another body,” Jez said. “It just starts over again.”
“I’ll start another search for Webster,” Leroy said. “The kid’s got to be somewhere, for heaven’s sake.”
“Kiera,” Jezzibella said. “If you really did look everywhere for him before, then he’s got to be with Kiera.”
Al shook his head in amazed admiration. “Goddamn, I can’t believe I was dumb enough to let that woman into this rock. She doesn’t miss a single trick.”
Etchells emerged from his wormhole terminus ten thousand kilometres out from Monterey. The asteroid was a small grey disk traversing one of New California’s sunlit turquoise oceans. Drab, but enormously welcoming. He could almost hear his stomach growling from hunger.
New California’s defence network locked on to his hull, and he identified himself to the control centre in Monterey. They cleared him for a five-gee approach. His energy patterning cells couldn’t quite manage that.
Clear a pedestal for me,he told the hellhawks on the docking ledge. I need nutrient fluid.
We all do,pran soo replied tartly. There’s a rota, remember?
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