Thinking quickly, JT asked, ‘I don’t suppose there is anything else in the box, a delivery note or an invoice?’
‘Let me look,’ she said and he heard the barest of taps as the phone was laid down. A moment later she was back. ‘There is a certificate but I don’t really know what most of it means.’
‘Is there a transponder ID? It will be an eight-digit number followed by three letters.’
‘Hang on.’ He could hear her leafing through pages. ‘Yes, here it is,’ she said excitedly. ‘The code is 3248 8492 HYD.’
Satisfaction surged though JT. ‘That’s the one. Let me cross-reference it to make sure. Can you read it out to me again?’ He brought up the transponder database on his screen and typed the code in as she reread it but he already knew the answer. The alphabetical part of the code was always the first three letters of a Unit’s moniker.
Miss Tudor heard a nasal snort of confirmation from JT. ‘So you’ve found your Unit Hydra,’ she said. ‘I can only guess that whoever has taken your Unit had hoped anyone checking its movements would see a tag in and a tag out and not notice the change in location between the two events.’
JT considered this. She was probably correct but he felt reluctant to give himself too much credit.
‘The bigger question,’ she resumed, ‘is who opened the box?’
‘I’m not sure I follow you?’
‘Who could get into the office here, open the box and walk out with the transponder? My staff are as confused as I am, the office door has electronic swipe locks. Either someone was able to get past that or was issued with a card.’
‘Are the swipes logged?’ he asked.
‘In theory, yes. I would have to check with security.’
‘Do that,’ he said. ‘In the meantime I’m going to head over to you and take a look at these tracks.’
‘I would be happy to show them to you, but I fear they will have disappeared into the dust before very long, Mr Gilbert.’
‘JT,’ he said after a pause. ‘My name is JT.’
‘Very well, JT,’ she said, and reciprocated. ‘I’m Evelyn.’
He hung up and sat for a few moments with his elbow propped on his desk. He drifted into thought, chewing half-heartedly at a thumbnail. There was no question this was more than a clerical error. In fact, it had the potential to be very serious. He picked up the phone again and dialled the number for his contact in the Rika, on the off-chance she might have some insight. Whether through genuine ignorance or the Rika’s maddening penchant for secrecy, she had none.
Finally he stood and made his way to the exit of the building. Emerging into the bustling streets of the city he hailed a trishaw taxi and directed the driver to the Western Fringe and T24.
*
Miss Tudor, Evelyn, turned out to be very different in person to the mental image JT had built up of her. He had imagined a tall, elegant, somewhat prim woman. On meeting her face to face he found her to be of medium height, slightly plump and far from prim. Her hair was short and blonde, almost white. Adorned in a loose-fitting blue blouse and cream linen trousers, she was certainly not beautiful but her companionable smile lifted his spirit.
‘It’s nice to meet you,’ she said, offering a hand. Her shake was firm, warm and dry.
‘It’s good to meet you too,’ he said. ‘Now that I’m here I do recognise this place, but from a long time ago.’
‘Not much has changed since I’ve worked here,’ she said. ‘Once in a while there is a clear-out of items that have been forgotten, but in general, it’s looked tired since before my time.’
She signed JT in as a visitor and led him into the compound. It was as she described, worn down and very dusty. The windows, sandblasted for decades, were completely opaque. Grit skittered and whirled in patterns just above the broken surface of the concrete beneath their feet. Around them, low hangars stood, doors drawn shut tight against the elements. Within them, JT knew, were untold stocks of vehicle parts, much of which was considered surplus or outdated.
‘So where’s your office?’ he asked.
‘Admin is in that building.’ She indicated a dilapidated wooden structure on stilts situated on the western side of the compound. ‘It looks rather nicer on the inside than it does from here.’
‘And how many of you work here?’
‘Administration?’ He nodded. ‘There are three of us, which isn’t enough, but we get by.’
‘You strike me as very efficient, Evelyn,’ said JT, who appreciated the likely workload she had to cope with.
She seemed faintly amused by the compliment and explained. ‘It’s easier to knuckle down, keep order and discipline than it is to deal with the consequences of cutting corners. Some of our customers do have to wait on occasions and I imagine they find that frustrating. But at least they know where they stand.’
A few moments later they reached a large ad-hoc structure, more a frame draped in netting than a building in its own right. Evelyn gestured to the tyre marks on the ground.
‘They are fainter now, even since last shift, but you can still see them.’
Squinting, JT could see the impressions; three vehicles apparently parked in a neat row. He followed the patterned imprints towards the compound’s entrance. Straining hard he could make out the three sets of tracks converging into a single pair about twenty metres from where they stood. He stooped to take a closer look and noticed a regular interruption in the even marks of the tyres. It took him a moment to realise that what he was seeing was the pattern left by snow chains. He made a mental note to check the manifest, but was sure the Unit’s last trip out had been to Hellinar rather than into the snowy wastelands of Ayon.
‘Looks like our missing Unit,’ he said and walked forward to inspect the tent. It was completely empty, with no visible footprints or other indication of who might have taken Hydra.
Turning his attention back to Evelyn, he asked, ‘Any luck with the swipe log?’
‘I have it here,’ she said, offering it to him.
‘This isn’t going to mean much to me,’ he said, studying it. ‘I can see you and several other names repeated through each shift. Who are these other people?’
‘Most of them work here, some are customers. This one,’ she said, indicating a name that was marked down regularly once a shift, ‘delivers our post. But there is one anomaly.’
She pointed out a name, that of a William Connor. ‘I don’t know who this is and he seems to come and go outside of the work shift. He has a swipe card so clearly he’s got to be registered somewhere to be given access to the office. Security can see that he’s registered, but they don’t have the ability to see where or by whom.’
‘I guess there will be a record of it back at Hellinar Research. We would have issued that card. Could it be that he’s a cleaner or something?’
Evelyn Tudor looked at JT with open incredulity. ‘A cleaner? Mr Gilbert, we barely have the budget to pay the admin and security staff. We do the cleaning ourselves, latrines and all.’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said, abashed.
After a moment of consideration she asked quietly, ‘Do you think it might be stolen or forged?’
‘That’s a possibility, I’ll look into it. In the meantime I’m going to see if I can learn where Hydra went after leaving here. You said the tracks indicate they headed out towards the slums?’
‘Yes,’ Evelyn replied. ‘I followed them as far as Siir Street and there’s nowhere vehicles of that size can turn off after that. But I would counsel against following them that way.’
JT shrugged, ‘I’ve been through the slums before.’
‘Recently?’ she asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘No, not recently. Why?’
She considered her answer for a moment before speaking again. ‘There is a great deal of unrest out there at the moment. It’s been bubbling just under the surface for a while.’ She hesitated, wondering whether to elaborate, but the moment passed. ‘If you decide you must go,
please make sure someone knows what you’re doing.’
‘Well,’ he said with a laugh, ‘I guess I’ve got that covered. I’ll let you know I’m back.’
Evelyn looked concerned but gave a small, sharp nod. ‘Make sure you do.’
JT regarded her for a moment longer, then turned to follow the faint tracks that pointed the way out towards the western edge of the city.
007: Debate
Council Chambers, Central District, Skala City
Entering the Council Chambers early, Katherine found the airy space pleasantly cool and quiet. She let the eerie peace wash over her, breathing in the air to savour the aroma of the ageing wood panelling and the naturalness of its linseed oil coatings. Soft beams of sunlight shone down through air vents in the hemispherical roof and between the thick, cream cotton of the drapes that were slung across it. The light caught an infinity of dust particles that rained down to settle on the worn boards of the vast oak-lined floor. Even approaching the end of its life, the main chamber was a magnificent place.
Sunk into the room’s centre was the belvedere, a circular edifice cut in half by a narrow aisle that formed a literal representation of the ‘Divide’. Reflecting the sigil of Skala, two bracketed terraces descended to encircle ‘the Nine’ made up of the Privy Council and the Matriarch, who sat at its head. Presiding over the Nine sat a chamberlain, one of three learned civil servants charged with keeping order during parlance.
Descending the steep steps through the Divide in such unusual quiet, Katherine couldn’t help but reflect on what the two terraced rostrums represented. Ostensibly, one symbolised Hellinar, the other Ayon, but in many ways she considered them to stand for more than that; in their simplest form they represented death and rebirth. Skala had been her people’s home for nearly thirty decades but was now slipping into the deserts of Hellinar, soon to be rendered obsolete, dry and dead. A thousand kilometres into Ayon lay the part-constructed city of Aya, a next step in evolution, a symbol of hope and a way to redress some of the ills that had befallen civilisation’s poorer inhabitants.
Pausing just short of the inner circle she wondered if it was all a bit too fanciful, Hellinar representing death and the past, Ayon life and the future. The majority of Orderly Councillors tended to gravitate naturally to one side or the other, depending on what role they played in wider society. Those who were concerned with keeping Skala alive, if only for a little longer, occupied the Hellinar dais to Katherine’s left, while those planning the construction of Aya would find themselves sitting to her right.
She stepped forward to take her place at the edge of the great table, a circular podium metaphorically sitting between Hellinar and Ayon. It was made from wood, a single piece of tree trunk nearly five metres in diameter, and gave the Privy Councillor standing at it the right to speak. Carved into its surface was an evolving schematic of the city’s geography. According to tradition, or so the bards had it, the great table was destined to be burned at the final Council meeting before the migration. According to lore, the ashes would be retained by the Matriarch, who would stay with Skala as it advanced inexorably into the fires of Hellinar. Taking her place, Katherine supposed it would not be long before she discovered if this story was true or not.
The sound of voices approaching from beyond the belvedere woke Katherine from her thoughts. Gradually the Privy Council assembled, followed by nearly a hundred members of the Orderly Council and a full house of reporters and the public. As they streamed in she couldn’t help but look for Kyle Devin, explorer, legendary survivor and, also, her father. The man responsible for research out in Hellinar, he entered with his opposite number for Ayon, Nara Falla. Nara had personified the role of explorer but now, in her seventies, had retired from the ice fields and reluctantly – some said she had been coerced – joined the Privy Council. Much to Katherine’s relief, Kyle Devin’s manner was outwardly easy although, as usual, he studiously ignored his daughter while Nara, making her way to seat herself next to Katherine, gave her a small nod of support.
*
The session started with the usual ceremonials, which were brief and uncomplicated. Orderly Councillors and the Nine alike would rise momentarily for the Chamberlain to take his place. All stood as Selwyn Abbot, a rotund but jocular man adorned in red velvet robes, bustled in through the Divide. As was usual he had a notepad wedged firmly under his left arm and was searching, seemingly in vain, for a writing implement. As he circled around behind Katherine she caught the unmistakable sound of mild cursing under his breath, which lifted her spirits, if only a little. Taking his place behind the Matriarch and apparently discovering a pen perched above his left ear, he removed it before donning a pair of spectacles which served as a cue for the rest of the assembly to take their seats.
‘Right, the Council is now in session. We will begin with the review of membership,’ he declared.
At this a tall woman, one of the permanent secretaries of Hellinar, stood.
‘Council membership currently stands at 427.’
The population’s limited ability to increase in numbers, given the rarity of successful couplings, made the review of membership a bureaucratic necessity.
‘Excellent, thank you,’ remarked Abbot, who, as a man fond of making records, diligently wrote the figure down.
‘So, item two, matters arising.’ Katherine’s insides did a brief somersault. The Matriarch, resplendent in a long scarlet skirt, crisp white collared shirt and dark velvet jacket, stood and addressed the Council in her considered matter-of-fact way. As always she spoke with no reference to notes, a skill in which she took great pride.
‘You will no doubt be aware that this extraordinary meeting has been called at short notice.’ Mumbles of agreement and in some cases barely concealed impatience broke out from the assembled councillors. ‘You may also be aware that an incident has occurred at the Ayon Research building. We have assembled to discuss that incident and its implications.’ From behind her Katherine heard a barely raised, and thus unidentifiable, voice mutter, ‘Get on with it.’
‘I have been briefed by Detective O’Brien of CID. The situation as described to me is thus. At some time during the last shift one of the two Intercessor Drive Cores which have been kept at Ayon Research was removed by means and persons unknown.’
While there was no collective gasp from her audience it was clear that the Matriarch had their undivided attention. She continued, ‘Every effort is being made by CID, with the co-operation of Ayon Research and the wider community, to recover the IDC. While we all clearly acknowledge that elements within our civilisation have strong feelings opposing the use of the IDCs, feelings to which I personally am not wholly unsympathetic, it is essential that the Core be returned.’
‘The construction of Aya, as you know, is well under way. The contribution of both of the IDCs continues to be immense and for the good of all must progress subject to the restrictions put in place by this Council. I would urge anyone with information on this matter to make it available to CID at the earliest possible opportunity. Thank you.’
She swept her skirt neatly beneath her as she once again took her seat. There was a brief silence around the chamber before, predictably in Katherine’s view, Victor Urasa, the Privy Councillor representing the cultural interests of Hellinar, stood and took the initiative. Urasa was middle aged, of average height and possessed of a sharp, some said subversive, intelligence. His voice was strong and confident, but had a wheedling nasal quality that Katherine had come to associate with a sense of distrust.
‘Could the Matriarch tell us how the hell this happened? Aren’t the IDCs kept under the strictest of security? I was under the impression that even their location within Ayon Research was up until five turns ago a closely guarded secret.’
Katherine winced as Urasa took his seat and the Matriarch again stood to address the chamber.
‘I am unable to address the gentleman’s first point at this time. Rest assured, as more information becomes available
it will be disseminated among the Privy Council. Regarding the second, I would not presume to insult the public’s intelligence by claiming a widely reported incident at Ayon Research and the subject of this meeting are not connected.’ As she sat, Urasa, this time without hesitation, stood again.
‘Disseminate among the Privy Council by all means, but what about everyone else?’ he asked. ‘This is clearly an important matter with enormous implications we need to consider. It’s in everyone’s interests to know the facts.’
Katherine wondered what tactic Urasa was using. He always had a strategy and was very adept at thinking on his feet to bend a situation to his advantage. He seemed to be taking a very combative approach, even by his own standards. Despite her passive, symbolic position the Matriarch was made of stern stuff and was having none this. Again she stood.
‘Councillor Kane will be able to provide some further limited detail on the specifics on behalf of CID. I cannot at this time inform the gentleman, the Privy Council or the public any more than I have done, for the simple reason that events are moving fast and barely a shift has passed since the IDC was removed.’
‘You mean stolen,’ said Urasa, barely standing before sitting down again.
‘I mean removed. But yes, presumably stolen.’ This answer made Katherine physically shiver. Knowing she was sitting on information of volcanic proportions she had only moments to decide whether she should intervene. Willing herself on, she got to her feet, the rest of the Nine eyeing her with interest. Trying not to look at them directly, least of all her father, she began.
‘I may be able to elaborate on the situation, specifically on HEX’s removal.’ She stopped, momentarily realising she had given away more information than she had intended already. She cleared her throat and continued.
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