Fairweather

by Jones, Raya

  He looked me in the eye. ‘You wonder why I’ve told you. You need to know. What you do with the knowledge is up to you.’

  ‘Even if it destroys OK?’

  ‘There’s a bigger picture, Al. There is a Council of Nine, there always was. Only its members change. Calvin Cray is a newcomer.’ Speaking, he walked to the cockpit.

  I followed. ‘You know who’s behind the skiz. You’ve known all along.’

  ‘Do I? Who is it?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. You’re not my client.’

  ‘Bloody hell, principles! Who’s to know apart from the two of us? Alright, I’ll get blood out of a stone sooner. What are you going to tell the Cray lad?’

  ‘You see my dilemma, Fred.’ He nodded, getting it. He knew that Calvin Cray was behind the skiz marketing. I went on, ‘What puzzles me is why your people don’t draw the same connections I do.’

  ‘I can’t tell them what I’ve just told you.’

  ‘The Council of Nine stuff? Are you afraid they’ll laugh you out of office?’

  ‘You see my dilemma,’ he chuckled.

  ‘No. I don’t get you at all. You know that the consultations I do for the CSG are open-ended. I’m on a watchdog retainer. What am I supposed to tell them now? That you are not the Ringmaster, they’ve got it all wrong, actually you are the Game Master of the Council of Nine?’

  He chuckled, correcting, ‘Grand Mage. But no, that’s not me.’

  ‘Will it help you to climb up the ladder if the CSG investigates Mu Tashi for selling illegal weapons? That could put Calvin Cray out of the picture.’

  ‘I love the devious way your mind works, Jigsaw-san, but that’s not my ulterior motive. Young Calvin is not a problem for me. I have a problem with weapons like skiz.’

  I doubted it. ‘I think you have a problem with Calvin Cray hacking OK databases.’

  ‘I can’t pull wool over your eyes,’ he beamed with fatherly pride, ‘you’re right about that.’

  ‘You don’t need to invent a secret council. Perhaps nine corporations collaborate, so you call them the Council of Nine. Recycling myths is a very OK thing to do.’

  He eyed me strangely for a moment. Then he spoke darkly. ‘You are wrong, Al, so wrong. It’s us who are recycled by myths.’

  Jupiter grew increasingly larger ahead. Fred switched signatures twice more in four days, and told me myths, legends, and lies. He told me about bushido, the moral code of ancient samurai. Perhaps he wanted to teach me about my ethnic roots. But I heard it as a reminder of my true loyalty and real mission—which he wasn’t supposed to know anything about. He told me a Japanese folktale in which a sister let herself to be tortured to death by a slave-master so that her brother could escape to safety—and I heard it as a reference to Fairweather, which he wasn’t supposed to know about.

  On the fifth day, we were arrested.

  A Securos patrol towed us to their compound in an old mall off Callisto, Jupiter’s moon. They gave us ID numbers and allowed us to keep our personal effects after taking an inventory. It took a long time in my case because they didn’t recognise some of the gizmos laid out for inspection. ‘Is there anything here that can be used as a lethal weapon?’ the inspector asked. ‘How about this?’ Her scanner couldn’t identify the tool with the anti-nano darts. I told her that the anti-nano nano won’t activate if it detects a warm body. She made some calls. I waited on a bench next to Fred.

  ‘Don’t say “I told you so”,’ he growled.

  ‘I told you so.’

  ‘You’re enjoying this. I can tell. You have that wicked glint in your eye.’

  We were arrested because his deception manoeuvres aroused suspicion. After the inspection, we were told to sit down in front of a desk. A stony-faced man behind a desktop computer asked for our names and citizenship. I spoke before Fred had a chance, ‘I’m Freedom Cordova of OK.’

  ‘I’m Freedom Cordova,’ said Fred, looking daggers at me.

  Not batting an eye, the officer busied himself with the computer. Eventually he looked up. ‘You are hereby duly informed that the counter-smuggling team has started to strip down the vehicle found in your possession. It may go in your favour if you cooperate. What are we going to find there?’

  ‘A consignment of pot noodles,’ I said.

  He explained without humour that noodles didn’t count. None of the authorised grocers subscribed to Securos’ counter-smuggling service. He got busy with the computer again. Moments later, something on his monitor caused slight emotion to flicker across his face. He raised his eyes, looking at me with sudden interest. ‘You are Haüyne.’

  ‘Pronounced ha-win,’ I corrected.

  ‘My God,’ gasped Fred, glancing at me aghast. He turned to the officer demanding to know why he thought that I was Haüyne.

  The officer told him that OK Personnel had matched my image to the name.

  ‘What about me?’ Fred demanded.

  ‘You are nobody.’

  Fred seemed lost for words. Until now, nobody dared to tell him he was nobody.

  The officer elucidated, ‘You don’t exist.’

  ‘I beg your pardon? I’m right here in front of you or am I dreaming?’

  ‘There’s no match for your image in any of the corporate personnel or our Smugglers and Profiteers database,’ the officer stated flatly.

  ‘I’m Freedom Cordova which means I’m an OK executive.’

  ‘I know who the Cordova are.’ The officer spoke as if to a simpleton. ‘I have on my screen two images. One is Haüyne, and that’s him. And one is Freedom Cordova, and that’s not you.’

  ‘Can I see that picture?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I have a right to see my own picture!’

  ‘It’s not you.’

  ‘I can prove who I am! I have all my cards right here and every single one says Freedom Cordova with my biometrics.’ He started to take things out of his pockets.

  The officer declined to examine the evidence. ‘We don’t care what you call yourself and whether you can prove it or not. That’s why we’ve given you an ID number. You can take up the issue of your identity with OK. They’ve requested your extradition. Along with him.’ He turned to me warmly. I had livened up his dreary day. ‘You are in so much trouble. They want to know what you did with Freedom Cordova. Kidnapping an executive means the death penalty in OK.’

  ‘Too true, and heads will roll!’ Fred turned to me, ‘How come I don’t exist?’

  ‘You’ve stepped into the realm of fantasy with the Council of Nine,’ I told him.

  He became very pale and silent.

  The officer advised me to get an independent lawyer, and supplied a list of law firms. We were released to a lounge to await our transfer to OK custody.

  It was a grim place. There were no EnViro fields or popup reps. Unimaginative ads advertised lawyers, booze, and auctions of unclaimed confiscated goods. Everything seemed rundown. Smugglers and profiteers huddled in small groups with their lawyers. We found a table with a view of Callisto’s icy surface. ‘Look Fred, there’s Valhalla. Think of it, an impact crater, thousands of miles across, with concentric rings like nothing on Earth. Its central basin alone could swallow Ground Zero with room to spare.’

  I went on reciting elementary astronomy until he couldn’t stand it anymore and snapped, ‘Wiping out my identity I can understand, but calling yourself Haüyne! Don’t you have any shame? What is it with you and wearing the identities of women you’ve slept with?’

  ‘I didn’t tell you I slept with her.’

  ‘No, but she did. Try to look a little bit surprised. She was more than an ex-student. She was a field operative of mine. Did you know that?’

  ‘No, but I’m not surprised.’ I stared at Valhalla, thinking about the Man in the Moon. ‘Did she do everything under orders?’

  ‘No. She really liked you. What happened between you was genuine and spontaneous. She told me about it afterwards because she was worried it might jeopardise my agen
da for you. Don’t look at me like that. I had nothing to do with her death. You know that accidents like that can’t be rigged.’

  It’s difficult to tamper with cryonic systems and virtually impossible to target a specific occupant, but it’s not impossible to put an already dead body in a tank, I told him. He agreed. ‘Technically correct, but she went into the tank alive. We checked.’

  She was one of his most promising protégés, except for her silly obsession with the Apocalypse conspiracy. The cryptogram was her own discovery. She didn’t recognise the CSG tag. Fred did, and didn’t tell her. He saw an opportunity to weaken my loyalty to the CSG. He sent her to me, letting her believe that I was Dee Valiant and that her mission was to distract me from my investigation into OK. ‘When you fell for each other, it was even better for me. I could have exploited your infatuation if she lived long enough.’

  I asked him whether he wanted me to get him something from the vending machines.

  ‘My identity back. That would be nice. Thanks.’

  ‘You seem to me the same as ever. How did you know the CSG tag?’

  ‘I’m in the business of knowing. If telling you about the Council of Nine means I’m wiped out, so be it. But don’t think for a moment that I’m going down quietly. You had to have insider help to set up this scenario, and someone in my firm is going to pay.’

  I thought about the insider help he had to have in the CSG, someone whose identity still eluded me. ‘Go ahead. Execute your personnel and demolish your firm. At least you’re not talking mythology anymore. Don’t worry, Fred, I wasn’t hired to find out about the Apocalypse conspiracy. I’m not obliged to pass on information about the Council of Nine to the CSG.’

  He swore under his breath. ‘What’s stopping you?’

  ‘They might believe it.’

  ‘Then you do believe it.’

  ‘It’s like these craters. If you don’t know about meteorites, they look mysterious, but with the right information the landscape makes sense.’

  ‘Exactly, so you see it!’

  ‘No, Fred. We have to see the landscape like it is before we can make sense of it. The fantasy landscape you’re showing me keeps changing.’

  ‘You’re so wrong. It hasn’t changed for millions of years, maybe billions, this ancient evil,’ he spoke softly. ‘It’s your destiny and my fate.’

  ‘So you keep stating.’ I was getting fed up with it. ‘Do you want me to get you something from the machines or not?’

  ‘I’ll have a beer, thanks.’

  Just then a message summoning us back to the patrol’s compound popped up on the table-top.

  It was the fastest and sleekest vehicle in the Securos fleet, too large for transporting just the two of us. But OK wanted us delivered fast, and spared no expense. Different personnel processed us now. They all knew that I was a dead man walking, and treated me with morbid fascination, glee, and pity. We were led into an onboard interrogation booth. A guard informed us that we’ll be taken directly to the HQ of OK Intelligence in Phoenix-3. A curious mixture of emotions played on Fred’s face when he heard that.

  An OK citizen was sent to oversee our extradition. The ship departed as soon as she boarded. She was a pale woman, with brown hair and a worried face, too young and too junior for this detail, but apparently the only one that OK could deploy at a short notice. The moment she entered the booth, it was obvious that she recognised Freedom Cordova and was terrified of him. He took control. ‘Sit down,’ he told her, and ordered the Securos guard to leave us alone.

  Ignoring him, the guard looked at the girl. ‘Do you know this detainee?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, he’s known to us. You may leave us now.’

  ‘Is he dangerous?’ the guard insisted, hand on handgun.

  The girl glanced nervously at the man who could end her life with a single phone call. The most dangerous man in her world sat back with folded arms, staring at her as if daring her to say he wasn’t.

  ‘We can restrain him for you,’ the guard offered.

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ the girl said, mustering strength and authority. ‘Leave us alone please. I have to interview them and report back to my supervisor.’ She took her seat, and the guard left.

  ‘Well handled, Jan,’ said Fred when the privacy shield was set up.

  ‘You know my name.’ She paled even more.

  ‘I know a lot of names. It’s my business to know. You know that.’

  ‘Sir, I had no idea you were here. I was given a picture of someone pretending to be you and a picture of him.’ She meant me. Fred asked to see the picture of the man who wasn’t he. Jan got out her pad. A ghostly head flickered into view above the table—a man of indeterminable age, his long hair straight and jet-black. His elongated white face was the face of a man who never smiles.

  His own face disclosing nothing, Fred asked Jan whether she knew who that man was. She didn’t. ‘When you find out, keep it to yourself,’ he said. It was an order. ‘I’ll recommend the placement you’ve asked for. But are you sure about it? It’s a dangerous and often a short life in espionage. You ask Haüyne who’s already dead.’ He turned to me, ‘You have no idea what he’ll do to you for this prank. If he doesn’t find out, I have a good mind to tell him myself. He won’t see the funny side.’

  ‘Do you?’ I asked.

  He laughed. ‘Yes, it is funny. Sort of. Thank you for this little gesture, Haüyne. Jan dear, do me a favour and switch it off.’

  She blanked out the image of Wye Stan Pan.

  Fred interrogated her about how exactly she’d been assigned to this detail. She was very nervous although he was easy-going with her. I watched him in action, the way he used to watch me in action, doing my dance in domains he couldn’t see. We had become so close and yet it was as if only the tips of icebergs were touching, the submerged bulks separated by an abyss. When I faked a communication from him instructing his team to make this scenario happen, his subordinates didn’t dare to double-check its authenticity in case he’s got it into his head that they doubted his authority. They saw him from the bottom up, the dark mass of the iceberg grinding down on them.

  But ice exposed to the sun thaws.

  Finally, he asked Jan about the arrangement for delivering us. Her orders were to teleport us somewhere in Phoenix-3. She showed him the grid specs. ‘Didn’t the destination strike you as odd?’ he asked. She replied that she didn’t know Phoenix-3.

  ‘Is this your HQ, Fred?’ I inquired.

  He explained to Jan, ‘He’s allowed to speak to me like this because he’s a dead man,’ and turned to me. ‘From memory, these coordinates used to be my bedroom.’ Then he fixed Jan with a look from the dark depths of the iceberg. ‘You didn’t hear that, understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Have you been told to accompany us to this location?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I have to wait there for further instructions.’

  ‘I’m giving you your instructions now. I don’t want you anywhere near my bedroom. When we get to Phoenix, you’ll make your way back to where you need to be. Travel on your private account and I’ll reimburse you later. This assignment will be erased from your résumé. Now go and find out when they serve the cocktails on this flight. I’ll have my martini stirred not shaken.’

  We weren’t served any cocktails. Apart from giving us water, the guards had little to do with us. Jan too stayed out of the way, but she talked the guards into leaving us unrestrained. ‘That’s my girl!’ Fred said when we sat down. ‘Look, these seats have a privacy shield.’

  ‘Do we need to talk?’

  ‘We can whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears if you want.’ He activated the shield. ‘Now talk. I’m listening.’

  I said nothing.

  He sighed. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t speak to you as if I’m your boss. Would you please enlighten me as to what is going on?’

  ‘I wanted OK to provide us a faster transport to Earth.’

  ‘Not Luna?�
��

  ‘No. I don’t need to go there.’

  He waited.

  I said nothing.

  He switched on his pad and checked his personal links. ‘It’s all here,’ he concluded as if surprised that his identity was intact.

  ‘Of course it is. I’m amazed you didn’t check it out straightaway. The misinformation was rigged to respond only to inquiries from Securos.’

  He put away the pad, saying, ‘I’m amazed too. My commonsense must’ve packed up at the thought of what I thought you had done. That’s a terrible thing to admit. What’s worse, I can’t even find it in my heart to be angry with you. I’m…’ he frowned, perplexed, ‘actually proud of you. I promise not to discipline anyone if you tell me how you’ve pulled it off.’

  ‘Let’s get to your “HQ” first.’

  ‘Yes, my bedroom. That was a neat touch. And Jan, how did you get her here?’

  She wasn’t part of my plan. I had no idea who she was. ‘You’re interested in her. Have you stopped her from coming to your bedroom on my account? I’d have left you two alone.’

  ‘No, no, it’s not that kind of interest. Her mother was Amber May.’

  ‘The same Amber May who was not a trustee of the Man on the Moon?’

  ‘She was. She used her birth name, Anna Pan. There are more CSG chiefs of executive descent than you probably realise. They don’t like to make their origins known. Anna was from the normal side of the Pans. Wye Stan has ruined her father. She joined the CSG with the notion of bringing down his one-man evil dynasty.’

  ‘Does Jan know any of that?’

  ‘I hope not,’ he sighed. ‘She was only eight when Anna died. Al, she doesn’t need to know. This way she has a chance of making a life for herself.’

  ‘She’s already in your firm, isn’t she? She is terrified of you. To most OK citizens you are just a professor if they know you exist at all.’

  ‘You don’t miss much.’ Jan had been recruited when Fred was in cryonics, otherwise he would have blocked it.

  ‘Why, because Amber May was her mother?’

  ‘No, Al. Because I’m her father.’

  The universe is made up of coincidences. At the precise moment that I stood in Boss Ben’s solarium seeing Phoenix-3 float like a mirage above low-lying fog, Fred stood by the window of his old room. On a fine day he could see the sprawl of the slums and industrial sites all the way to the biodome where gangsters lived. On an exceptionally clear day he could see the hazy skyline of the eastern rim. But on his last evening on Earth he saw little. He stood there thinking about Suzie. Then he picked up his travel bag, and on a whim jaunted to the airport mall where I was about to arrive holding Boss Ben’s hand.