Great North Road

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘Thank you. Please state the reason for your visit?’

  ‘The New Monaco Council of Governance has been made aware of your family’s current financial situation. A group of thirty-two banks and market institutions have filed for loan repayment following today’s collapse of the oil futures market. Treasury records indicate you don’t have enough money in your assets to make good their claim. Is that true?’

  ‘How do I plead, you mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said implacably.

  ‘Big day for you. You don’t get this very often, do you?’

  ‘I have no personal involvement in this matter, I assure you. Ms DeVoyal, I must ask you for your answer now, please.’

  Angela took a breath. ‘No. My family cannot pay the debts at this time. I’m sure if you just let me begin negotiations with—’

  ‘I’m sorry. But I’m not concerned with what rescheduling agreement you may eventually come to with your debtors. I am only concerned with the New Monaco residency laws. To confirm then: your net worth is no longer in excess of fifty billion US dollars?’

  ‘Correct.’ There is no net worth – I’m two and a half billion in debt, which I’m sure you know.

  ‘In which case, I regretfully have to inform you, that by the Council of Governance’s constitution, you no longer qualify as a New Monaco resident.’

  ‘I was born here. This is my planet.’

  ‘No, Ms DeVoyal. It was your planet. Legally, you now have twenty-four hours to attend to your affairs before I escort you to the gateway. However, the Council is pleased to extend a non-prejudicial offer of a further forty-eight hours’ extension so you may arrange your father’s funeral.’

  ‘That’s very kind of them. Marlak?’

  ‘I’ll see to it.’

  ‘The Council would like to add that should your finances recover, you will be most welcome to reapply for citizenship.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she said loftily. ‘I’ll remember that.’

  Matthews cleared his throat, clearly relieved that she wasn’t making a scene. ‘Thank you, Ms DeVoyal. I’ll remain with you until this is over.’

  She gave him a derisive smile. ‘You think I’ll make a break for it? That I’ll turn feral and live out in the hills, preying on the innocent townsfolk?’

  ‘I don’t believe that, no.’

  ‘Sorry, that was impolite of me. You’re only doing your job. It’s been a bad day. You know?’

  ‘I think you’re coping very well.’ Matthews nodded to the woman agent. ‘You can tell them to come in now.’

  ‘Who?’ Angela asked sharply.

  Matthews gave Marlak an uncomfortable glance. ‘Um . . .’

  ‘Angela,’ Marlak said uncomfortably. ‘The banks have been in touch with the Financial Regulatory Board. A team of the Board’s Officers has been appointed to administer the remaining family assets. They need to recover as much as they can from your companies and holdings.’

  ‘I see. Right now?’

  ‘They’re worried you might try to hide assets.’

  ‘Oh really?’ She glanced up as a whole group of people started to walk into the grandiose hall. Unlike the agents, their clothes weren’t anything like as expensive. Office worker-types. The kind of little people she didn’t even register as she went about her usual day. Now they were here to rip the carcass of her life apart and earn themselves a nice bonus for doing so.

  Angela held her hand up. ‘See this ring? It’s my engagement ring. My fiancé proposed to me tonight. Who does it belong to?’

  Matthews was starting to realize this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. ‘Technically, the Board’s officers can claim every personal item you own. In practice, they will of course leave you with some clothes and other low-value effects which have a sentimental value. I’m afraid a ring like that will definitely be claimed. Er, is that diamond?’

  ‘It is. Let’s just see what my fiancé, a New Monaco citizen, has to say about that, shall we?’

  Matthews inclined his head. ‘Of course.’ He and the other agents went into a huddle with the team from the Regulatory Board office, leaving her alone with Marlak.

  ‘They really will track it all down,’ Marlak said quietly. ‘Your father and I never thought to hide anything away. New Monaco was supposed to be the one place where a plutocrat’s wealth was safe.’

  ‘I know.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘What about you? They can’t take anything of yours, can they?’

  ‘Nothing that’s already been paid to me, no. I haven’t had this month’s salary, so theoretically that makes me one of your creditors.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’m rich in my own right – by normal standards, anyway. In fact, you’re welcome to come and live with me on New Washington for as long as you need. The house has a guest cottage in the grounds. You know, it’s been eight years since I visited.’

  ‘No. That’s really, really sweet of you, Marlak. But I don’t do charity. Looks like you actually will have to retire and spend more time with your grandchildren.’

  Marlak pulled a face. ‘Horrible thought. But what about you, what will you do?’

  The unspoken question was the one she flinched at. What can you do? What use are you? ‘That’s something I’m going to have to learn. I’ve got degrees in financial theory. That might help me . . .’ She trailed off. Get a job. The more she thought about it, the more bleakly funny it was. Who in this universe would ever give me a job? Hell, even I wouldn’t employ me. She gave Marlak a rueful smile. ‘Twenty billion other people manage. Somehow.’

  ‘They do indeed. I didn’t know you were engaged. Housden, is it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s a good man. Call him. He deserves to know from you.’

  ‘Right.’ She drew down a long breath and told her e-i to place the call she’d been dreading.

  It was Prince Matiff’s transnet address management software which responded to her call. ‘The Prince will no longer accept calls from you.’

  ‘I understand. Do you have a message relay facility?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Message begins: Pray you never meet me again. Pray very hard. End message.’ She licked her lips, pleased with how good that made her feel. A hollow threat – or maybe not. She was going to live for a long time. Thanks to Daddy. Angela sniffed away the tears before they could properly form.

  Housden answered her call straight away. But then he was always a class act. ‘I heard,’ he said. ‘The cartel just became the talk of the party. I’m so sorry about your father.’

  ‘That’s very sweet,’ she said. ‘He didn’t suffer. Quite the opposite.’

  ‘Good.’

  The silence stretched out. ‘Housden. Under the circumstances, I’m hardly going to hold you to your proposal.’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know what to say. If it was just down to me, then of course we’d stay together. But the family . . .’

  ‘Always the families,’ she said with a sad smile. ‘I know.’

  ‘Perhaps, you would be a mistress?’

  Angela laughed, which made the agents stare at her. ‘Oh Housden, you really are the best. No, you go and find yourself someone wonderful. Please. For me.’

  ‘I love you, Angela.’

  ‘I like having sex with you, too.’

  ‘It’s more than that, and you know it.’

  She held up her hand again, admiring the diamond ring for the last time. The raw diamond it was cut from must have been the size of a duck egg. Incredible! ‘I’m wearing the ring. I’m looking at it right now. It’s beautiful, Housden.’

  ‘It is yours. I had it made for you.’

  ‘You’re really the best. But I can’t keep it – literally. The bailiffs will take it from me, and sell it on. I can’t have that. It is the grandest romantic gesture of our generation. You have it back, and give it to your next fiancée. Anyone who deserves you, deserves it.’

  ‘Let me talk to my family. Perhaps I can still
make us happen.’

  ‘No, my darling. Don’t do that. It really is better to have loved and lost. You keep on living this life for me, okay?’

  ‘But what will you do?’

  Again, that question. What use is a New Monaco citizen in the real universe? ‘I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. And anyway, I’m a one-in-ten, remember? You and I will probably wind up together in the end. Someday before my thousand years are up.’

  ‘I will count every day.’

  ‘You do that. But right now I want you to call an Agent Matthews. Tell him that the engagement is off, and that the ring is yours. He’ll make sure you get it back, okay?’

  ‘I will. Angela, I really did love you.’

  ‘And I will never forget you. Promise. Goodbye, my darling.’ She turned to face the cluster of agents. ‘Hey, Matthews.’

  By the time he was facing her she’d eased the ring off. ‘Catch!’

  The panic on his face as he lunged for the spinning ring was comical.

  ‘You’ll be getting a call from my ex-fiancé in a moment. See he gets it back.’

  The agent scowled at her.

  Now for the really important call.

  ‘I can’t believe you called me,’ Shasta said. ‘We all know what happened, the cartel and everything. The Prince has announced an extra day of partying. It’s going to be fantastic.’

  ‘Really?’ Angela growled. ‘So is he launching an Apollo to celebrate?’

  ‘It’s not appropriate for you to call me any more. You know this.’

  ‘If you know about the cartel, then you know I could do with a little help right now.’

  ‘There are many transworld charities I give to most generously. My e-i will provide you with a list.’

  ‘No Shasta. I need help. I need you to get me off this godawful planet. Today.’

  ‘This planet is paradise. Don’t ever call me again. My e-i won’t allow you access. Goodbye, Angela.’

  ‘Bitch!’ Angela spat at the dead connection. That did leave her with a major problem. She’d thought she could rely on Shasta. If the roles were reversed, she certainly would have helped. Wouldn’t I?

  ‘Everything all right?’ Marlak asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Agent Matthews?’

  He left the others and came over to her. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s the middle of the night. My father’s committed suicide, and I’m a bankrupt who’s about to be exiled. Do you mind if I go to bed now, please?’

  ‘Of course.’

  *

  Angela woke up alone. It was a habit she hoped she could quickly break. At least it was in her own bedroom; which even though its decor was utterly perfect, designed by some of the best home stylists to be found across the trans-space worlds, today didn’t feel like home at all.

  Because it’s not. Not any more. It belongs to the banks.

  She took a shower and went into one of her walk-through wardrobes. Simple jeans and a sweatshirt were the order of the day, she decided. She started telling her e-i to summon her maid and hair stylist, then stopped. ‘Stupid,’ she muttered. On quite a few levels.

  This was when she had to concentrate. ‘Is the surveillance still off in my suite?’ she asked the e-i.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Give me the visual location of everyone in the mansion.’ She studied the diagram her netlenses produced, seeing Matthews was waiting in the corridor outside her suite. Marlak was in her father’s study with several Board officers, who were hardwiring their own systems into the family AI.

  She went back into her bathroom, and took the jewellery from the pockets of her discarded robe where she’d left it last night. They were the items she’d removed from her collection, erasing their listings from the AI. She’d chosen five rings and two sets of earrings. Not big pieces compared to some she had, but the gems were all large and flawless. Between them they’d be worth a million and a half dollars US – if you bought them from a store. She was under no illusion that she’d be able to get that price, but it was a start.

  Concealing them was more problematic. She looked round the bathroom and finally decided on the soap. A nail file carved out deep slots in the side of a rose-perfumed bar, and she eased each item in carefully, then pushed soap flakes back in around them, sealing up the bar. It went in a washbag along with stuff like her sonic toothstik, and already opened bottles of oil and some make-up. The agents would let her take that without any question, but getting through the gateway was going to be difficult. She’d be searched and scanned. Non-residents travelling out by themselves always were. And she knew they’d be exceptionally thorough with her for precisely this reason. Until last night she’d been relying on Shasta to travel with her. Staff accompanying their employers were waved through every time. It was something she was going to have to work a way round, and fast. Maybe Daniellia would be open to a proposition?

  Angela sat in her dressing room, and started combing her damp hair out. It took a lot longer than when her stylists did it. She hadn’t imagined that something this basic would be so difficult, but she kept getting the brush caught in tangles. And why were there more of those than usual?

  Agent Matthews was ready when she came out of her suite into the main corridor. ‘There seems to be something wrong with the network in your private quarters,’ he said.

  ‘Good morning, Agent Matthews, have you had breakfast yet?’

  ‘We’ll need your AI access codes.’

  ‘No, me neither. Did you keep any cooks on? I suppose I can make toast and boil an egg. How difficult can it be? There must be a 101 instruction file somewhere on the transnet.’

  ‘The codes, please.’

  She rolled her eyes and ordered her e-i to send them to the agent.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said in his monotonously polite tone. ‘And I know how to boil an egg. You won’t starve today.’

  ‘You’re very sweet. I think you’re in the wrong line of work.’

  ‘It pays well.’

  ‘Really? Any vacancies? I do have first-class knowledge of the New Monaco finance markets.’

  He shook his head in wonder. ‘I never will understand you people.’

  ‘No, you never will. Poor you.’

  Matthews was right, he did know how to cook. She sat in the West Wing kitchen, which she’d only ever visited three times in her life, and let him serve her scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, on thick toasted bread. He showed her how to use the delightfully antique orange squeezer. Forcing the juice out of the halved fruit by pulling down a lever on the side of the chrome-plated apparatus gave her a ridiculous sense of satisfaction. The coffee machine, however, had more controls and flashing lights than a gateway control room. But again, he knew how to operate it.

  ‘I do have a lot of things to get used to, don’t I?’ she said reflectively as she held up the espresso cup with its perfectly made contents.

  ‘Quite a few, yes.’

  ‘Any tips?’

  ‘Take a while and work out what you want to do with the rest of your life.’

  ‘And how do I pay for that time?’

  ‘Your father was born in America. That gives you a legal residency claim. They have social security. Not much. If you’re young and able, you get shipped out to a new world and given ten acres to grow your own food on. Same with Grande Europe.’

  ‘Shipped out,’ she said in distaste. ‘Maybe I should just have “failure” tattooed on my forehead.’

  ‘Won’t any of your friends help?’

  ‘Some might. My ex-fiancé. But I don’t do charity, Agent Matthews.’

  ‘The transnet media would probably be interested in your story.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure they would.’

  Matthews frowned and looked up. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and walked out.

  When Angela told her e-i to find out what was going on, it reported that she didn’t have access clearance to the mansion net any more. ‘Too late,’ she muttered under her breath.

  Matthews re
turned a couple of minutes later. A familiar figure was walking beside him. Shasta’s father, Bantri. Taller than Matthews and getting on for twice as wide. His round face had a full beard, which she remembered from her childhood as space-black, but which was now submitting to an infestation of age’s silver threads; and his brown eyes had all the merriness of a serial killer. He wore a dark-purple silk suit that tended towards a more Chinese style than Indian. The diamond pinned to the front of his traditional turban would also be large enough to carve a ring out of, Angela decided. But then Bantri did fancy himself a modern version of the old maharajas.

  ‘My dear girl,’ he boomed in a bass voice, and opened his arms wide; the way she imagined a benevolent uncle would treat her.

  She walked over to be engulfed by his embrace. ‘Hello, Bantri.’ It did surprise her that out of everyone, he would be the one to come and offer sympathy and comfort. Acts of kindness didn’t feature heavily in his life. She was already busy trying to work out what kind of advantage he was looking for at the mansion.

  ‘I’m so sorry about all of this.’

  ‘Not your fault, Bantri. We should have been more cautious, and certainly more alert. But the bioil market was always profitable. Ah well, too late now.’

  He clasped her hands in his, and squeezed tightly. ‘Your father was a great man. I will miss him terribly.’

  ‘That’s very kind.’

  ‘And you? What of you? I see the parasites have descended on you already.’

  ‘This is New Monaco. Everything is about the money.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ He took a step back and looked at her with greedy admiration. It was an expression which suited him far better than any attempted kindness.

  ‘So you have no money?’

  ‘No, Bantri,’ she said coolly. ‘But you know this.’

  ‘I do. Yes, I do. It is a terrible thing to be poor in the trans-stellar worlds. I wondered if I might help?’

  Angela was quite pleased with herself for working out the main reason why he was here before he made the offer. It meant she wouldn’t betray any surprise when—

  ‘You would make a most magnificent acquisition for me,’ Bantri continued in a hopeful tone. ‘I would be honoured if you would accept.’