The Hunt for Pierre Jnr

by David M Henley

  From what Pete could detect, and from Arthur’s observations, a great proportion of the people on the streets were Citizens. Visiting.

  That’s where the money comes from, Arthur explained.

  Is it all money here?

  Without civics there is only money. Unless you’re a gamer.

  Few lived in the border area between the zones. Apartment buildings were broken down and even the floors were cracked open, making dark holes to fall through. Pete realised that even on these streets the inhabitants were considered wealthy.

  In the eyes of the WU, any non-Citizen was a denizen, a person who wasn’t a part of any society. To the people of the Cape, dennies were the ones who made their beds on the streets, or in the basement underneath. They took what they could, however they could get it. They were the ones to be avoided. They were the ones you didn’t want to touch you.

  Soon enough they were in another bright street behind some impassable traffic. Ahead of them a crowd of people was jumping up and down, screaming ecstatically as other people were arriving at a big gaming arena called the TigerPark, which distinguished itself with twenty-foot holographic tigers that stalked the entrance.

  ‘Permission to speak, sir?’

  ‘What is it, Lazarus?’

  ‘I wondered if you knew what was happening ahead.’

  ‘Just one of the big gamers. SmithGo, he calls himself. It’s a scheduled show match. We should be able to get past in a minute.’

  Behind the crowd Pete saw what he thought was a denny. A middle-aged woman whose rags were barely able to hold themselves together. She shuffled toward the lights and noise. Pete could detect nothing from her mind.

  Is she blocked?

  She’s a drool. They have them around here, Risom replied.

  Pete accessed the files in his symb. ‘Drools’ was a term the locals of the Cape used to describe the brain-dead denizens who had started appearing on the streets. Mostly they fell asleep and died unnoticed, or stumbled about with only a handful of words and almost total loss of bodily control. Services’ hypothesis was that they were people who had run afoul of the local psis and had had their minds so brutally tampered with they no longer functioned on a conscious level.

  Or Pierre? Pete thought.

  You wish, Risom answered.

  He could be here ...

  I do not think the drool was made by him. It feels different, Arthur interjected.

  We should get you to visit the people from the farm we found to see if it is the same.

  As you wish.

  As the drool got closer to the crowd, two men in tiger-striped uniforms closed in on her from either side and lifted her by the arms. They carried her down an alley to dump her further away.

  ~ * ~

  The complex they arrived at was huge. Bigger than the Services compound and the TigerPark. The welcoming plaza held a large circular pool that caught the co-ordinated downpour of four waterfalls and a lively central fountain. Water and light jumped to the music that emanated from within.

  Ten let the squad roam and put Seven as front guard and took the rear position himself. The Jackpot! was ten levels of music, gambling machines and gaming mats; layer upon layer of people trying out their luck or just losing themselves in the hedonism.

  ‘Welcome to the Jackpot! What pleasure do you seek?’

  ‘None, thank you. We’re here to see Boris Arkady,’ Pete answered the glittering girl who came to greet them.

  She blinked and ran a message through the management system. Pete noticed something odd about her eyes. He couldn’t help but stare into them to see. She had been freaked with false irises with light and dark spirals that slowly spun the longer he looked. All the hosts at the Jackpot! had them. It was part of the uniform, like the e-ttoos on her skin and the extensions in her hair.

  She went wide-eyed as the request was instantly processed. Almost nobody got through to see Mister Arkady. She herself had never met the man who owned the Jackpot! and was one of the most powerful people in Atlantic.

  ‘Of course you are, Mister Lazarus. Did you want me to take you to him right away?’

  Pete motioned for the girl to lead them forward through the throng. Gock leered at the amount of flesh that was displayed, as nubiles of both genders wandered the parlours, sharing drinks and gentle touches with the players. They were employed by the house, a mix of flesh and fleshbots; in the frenzied lighting it was impossible to tell. He couldn’t break his gaze from a dwarfish blonde girl who knew he was looking and shuffled her bosom to the music.

  Peter wasn’t familiar with any of the games that were being run. Frenzy, Mark, Jesuo; Warball he’d heard of from the squad, though he picked up Seven’s cynicism that it wasn’t the same game in immersion.

  ‘The Jackpot! has every kind of game on offer. Immersive, physical, overlay and any combo you can imagine,’ the girl explained habitually as she led them to an elevator deep in the building. Each time they passed through different lighting her skin would change, as if she had fluorescent glitter scattered over her.

  ‘Is it always this busy?’

  ‘Busy, yes, but not always this rowdy. It’s nearly tournament season, so the players are showing off, trying to get picked for teams. It’s a good time to have a good time.’ She winked at them both.

  ‘I’m not sure that is what my keepers have in mind for me,’ Pete answered.

  ‘You mean this one? I’m sure we can keep him distracted for you if you want to play for a while.’

  ‘I wish I could.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll be here when you come back down. Don’t forget to say hi.’ She indicated the elevator slit that irised open in the carpeted wall.

  Gock let out a pleased sigh as the elevator led them through the building, up and across, until it once again opened, this time in a large room that was simultaneously plush and austere. The flooring was black polished marble, broken up with white fur rugs and ivory stands that held oversized candles.

  A man was sitting with his back to them. He wore white to match the lounges, stools and tables.

  ‘Come in, come in.’ He beckoned casually, obviously not wanting to rise from his newly acquired seating. ‘Come join me over here,’ he said without turning to face them.

  The soldiers stayed by the entrance even though with the aperture closed the exit was non-existent. Peter and Gock moved to sit with their host.

  The owner of Jackpot! waited, making no rush to interact. He regarded them and sipped at a glass of bubbly water. Peter, in turn, took the time to study this new entrant in his life. He was getting more information now than he ever had from Services.

  Sometime in the past, Arkady had had his arms replaced with two elegant cybernetic prosthetics. His suit was cut tight and sleeveless so they were always on show. When he smiled, he revealed a convex wall of mirrored dentures.

  They sat this way for a full two minutes, each waiting for the other to speak first. Arkady’s furniture had a strange smell to it, which was quickly explained by his host’s thoughts. The cretin doesn’t appreciate real leather when he sits on it.

  ‘Real leather, really? How much does something like this cost?’ Peter asked.

  ‘Cost? You don’t pay for goods like these. Only influence can acquire something of this rarity ... Was that you reading my thoughts?’

  ‘Am I the cretin?’ Pete smiled.

  Arkady mirrored his smile. It was cold and professional. As calculated as an emoticon in a message. ‘Can I get you a glass of water?’

  ‘Please.’

  A servitor brought a ridiculously tall glass of iced water for each of them.

  ‘I don’t really believe in telepaths, do you know that? Can you prove it to me?’ Arkady asked.

  ‘I know already that you have employed telepaths in the past to clear your casinos. How can you not believe?’ Pete asked.

  Boris smiled, mirrors bouncing the candle flames back at Pete. ‘I employ p
eople who say they are telepaths. Whether they are or not ... The numbers don’t lie. Profits are always higher after a tapper has been through.’

  ‘And that is not evidence enough?’

  ‘Evidence — not proof.’ Arkady closed his mirror smile. ‘The truth is, I don’t care if they are psionic or not, so long as the end result is in my favour.’

  ‘So why did you want to talk to me?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Can’t you pluck it from my mind? Really, what is the point of being able to read someone’s mind if you don’t make use of it?’

  ‘If that is your wish. Most people like to keep their thoughts private.’

  Boris snorted. ‘Get on with it.’

  ‘I will ask you some questions, just to lead your mind where I want it. It will speed things up if you cooperate.’

  ‘As you can see,’ he leant back on his couch, arms out on either side, ‘I am nothing if not cooperative.’

  ‘You are a Citizen of the WU?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You have been in contact with the Prime?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Through a man called Zim?’

  ‘General Zim to you, but yes, I only think of him as Zim. He is on the Primacy council.’

  Now that Arkady was thinking of more than intimidating his guest with silence, Pete could skim his thoughts easily enough. ‘You have something to show me?’

  ‘Yes, but I wanted to meet you first. It is not a part of your investigation, but the Prime and I came to an agreement.’

  ‘You leant on Shima and the Prime was obliged,’ Pete clarified.

  ‘Something like that. I own a piece of this town, we have much to offer each other.’

  ‘So what do you want with me?’

  ‘You are the only eyewitness. I want to hear it from you.’ Arkady tapped his glass with an anxious finger.

  ‘Have you not heard my statements?’ He had, but Boris was the kind of person who needed to get information first-hand. ‘What is your interest?’

  ‘It is the most significant event in our lifetime. Why wouldn’t I be interested?’

  ‘I really don’t have any more to add.’

  ‘You saw him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  Pete saw those eyes, that boy, the tranquillity of death ... ‘Just a nasty boy with a big head. I don’t like discussing it.’

  Boris Arkady sat still for a moment, toying with his glass. He was tempted to ask more questions, just for the fun of it. He was fascinated with the manifestation, and had even acquired a small collection of debris from the site. He was going to have a cabinet made for them.

  ‘My apologies. I was just curious. Let me show you why you’re here.’ He tapped the table and it switched to screen mode. With a gesture, a show of images appeared before them.

  ‘We have been seeing this symbol appearing throughout the Cape. Do you recognise it?’ Arkady slid through image after image of graffiti markings: the three-pronged Υ they’d seen in the psi breakout. ‘It’s an ancient Greek letter: psi.’

  ‘We’ve seen it,’ Ryu-Gock answered before Pete could respond.

  ‘Someone is trying to make a symbol out of it. We presume it indicates a psionic area, or acts as a territorial marker.’

  ‘Services is presuming the same. We can confirm that it is a mark used by some psi rebels we have had contact with,’ Pete advised.

  ‘Outside of the Cape?’

  ‘Yes. How long have you been seeing it for?’

  ‘A couple weeks now,’ Boris answered.

  ‘And how widespread is it?’

  ‘From what we’ve gathered, and remember this isn’t like the WU, we think it started in the north. That’s where it has been spotted the most. But we have seen it all the way to the waterline.’

  ‘What are the locals making of it? Have they noticed it?’

  ‘They think it’s a campaign for a new game. I’ve begun work on making that our cover story.’

  ‘Our cover ...’ Now Pete could see it. The Prime, Admiral Zim, Boris Arkady and now his team. There was an alliance being built to penetrate Atlantic, to make it compliant with the anti-psi laws of the rest of the world. ‘You want to clear Atlantic of psis?’

  Arkady shrugged and tilted his head. ‘Like I said. I don’t even believe in psis. But there is a group on the rise and I’m just protecting what is mine. You cannot begrudge me that.’

  ‘Has this group done anything harmful?’

  ‘Not that I am aware of, but who can say what they are forcing people to do? Doing something against your will becomes a murky point when your will can be changed.’

  ‘What do you know about the psi population of Atlantic?’ Gock asked.

  ‘I don’t know anything. They are not seen and not heard. I presume most of them are in the basement. Down below where the dennies go. Scuttling around with the crabs. I wouldn’t go there if I was you, even though it probably has what you’re looking for.’

  ‘And what exactly is it you want me to do?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Do what you people do. Catch psis. You can go now. I’ll contact Zim if I have anything more I want from you.’

  Pete and Gock stood and rejoined the soldiers as the portal opened.

  ‘Ten?’ Pete asked after the elevator iris closed them in. ‘Why are we here?’

  ‘I know as much as you do, Peter Lazarus. They can’t tell me more without risk that you would find out.’

  ‘Why do you think we are here then?’

  ‘Just as Mister Arkady said. To do what we do. Catch psis.’

  ~ * ~

  ‘You seem tense,’ Gock said. They had been sitting in a black box in the Services compound all evening, waiting for Ryu to come online.

  ‘Shouldn’t I be? What are you planning here, Prime?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too inquisitive if I was you, Peter. I could have you disciplined.’ From his remote command room the Prime ordered Pete’s symb to tighten. Always the reminder. ‘Tell me, how was Boris Arkady? I’ve never met him in person.’

  ‘He is a little strange.’

  ‘On the inside or the outside?’

  ‘Overall. He is obsessed with the manifestation.’

  ‘Did he show you the chairs I sent him?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘Was he pleased with them?’

  ‘He seemed very happy. He was intending to show them off to a lot of people after we left. May I ask what is the connection between the two of you?’

  ‘Common interests is all.’

  Pete to Geof: What have you gotten me into here?

  ‘Mister Lazarus, if you would like to bring Geof into the conversation, you need only say. I consider passing messages as petty.’

  Geof: I’m coming, just let me dress.

  Soon the viewscreen in the briefing room glowed on and showed a close-up of Geof’s hairy face.

  ‘Morning, Pete.’

  ‘Morning, Geof.’

  ‘Morning, Prime,’ Geof added. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘That’s what I asked you. What am I doing here? Why am I not getting any information?’

  Geof scrubbed his face. ‘What information do you want? What the next operation is? The importance of Atlantic? The overall global strategy?’

  ‘I just want to know what I’m doing. What are we trying to achieve?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Pete. We can’t divulge any strategic information to field operatives. It’s not just you. We can’t risk our plans getting out into the open.’

  ‘Well, at least I know there is a plan now.’

  ‘Are we working together or not?’ Geof asked. ‘I can’t be sure which side you are on any more.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me the Prime’s theory has gotten to you too? Pierre does not control me.’

  ‘It was my theory. I was simulating meme carrier diffusion. Every possibility has to be considere
d, Pete. It was nothing personal.’

  ‘Nothing personal? You’re suggesting my mind isn’t my own. How much more personal could it be?’