The Visitors Arrive
The next morning, Elke went on patrol earlier than usual. She had to take time off work to meet the children, and she couldn’t afford to let her routine get too disrupted. By the time she’d done her rounds and reached the office, Dolly and Wozniak were both there.
“Oh, good,” said Dolly. “I was worried I wouldn’t catch you in time.”
“Something’s up?” Elke headed for the folding table she shared with Wozniak. She dodged as three tiny, shimmering birds whirled around the office before escaping out the door.
“Those damned birds again!” Elke looked with disgust at the droppings they’d left on the table. “They’re getting out of hand. How did they get in here, anyway?”
She caught sight of Wozniak furtively slipping a bag of birdseed into a pocket, but before she could take him up on it, Dolly waved a piece of paper.
“Letter from Ncita.”
That got Elke’s full attention. Hoofdinspecteur Ncita was the head of the gardag unit in Kaapstadt, out in the Real world. It had been years since Elke had worked for him as a gardag trainer, but he still commanded her respect.
“Listen to this.” Dolly put on her glasses and frowned down at the letter. ‘Dear ma’am’…no…Where is it now? Ah. Here we have it.” She cleared her throat. “’We’ve run into yet another problem’,” she read out loud, “’with the Jinan Meer case. So far, we’ve been unable to arrange for Missy Cloete to be interviewed, or to confirm that she will be available to be a witness during the trial’.”
Dolly paused to look significantly up at Elke. “How about that.”
Elke grimaced. “Oh, crap.” She pulled a chair up and sank into it. “Why am I surprised?”
Dolly continued reading. “’Witberg Correctional are incapable of answering the simplest questions about her whereabouts. It’s possible she may have been sent to another facility but there’s no record of a transfer’.” Dolly shook her head. “Can you believe it.”
“I can,” said Elke. “Those prisons are rotten with corruption. I bet you somebody’s making pretty damn sure that Missy doesn’t get to be a witness.”
The thought of Missy Cloete was not a comfortable one. The woman had been hell bent on killing her and had very nearly succeeded.
“You may be right,” said Dolly. “And speaking of witnesses, that reminds me. I’ve had another of these notes from Her-eid Argent. He wants to interview you again.” She looked at Elke, eyebrows raised. “I thought you sorted this out last week.”
“I’ve been a bit busy.” Seeing Dolly’s disapproving expression, she hurried on. “And it’s such a waste of time, Dolly. He’s already interviewed me. He’s trying to trip me up. Get me to contradict myself.”
“Which is why it’s so important that you don’t give him any grounds for complaint.” Dolly folded Ncita’s letter and slipped it back into its envelope. “Do it, Veraart. And those forms for the promotion too. Today.”
Elke looked away, too irritated to trust herself to speak. Instead, she tidied her hair, smoothing it around her horns and behind her ears, finishing it in a plait down the back of her neck.
It was no surprise that Jinan Meer’s trial was taking so long, but Jinan’s representative, Argent, seemed to have a gift for dragging the legal process out even more than usual. Elke wondered if she could sit through another interview with the man without strangling him.
Of course, Argent had a perfect right to question her again. It was largely because of Elke that Jinan was on trial at all. Elke, along with her young friends Isabeau, Ndlela and Noor and their neighbour Crosshatch, had exposed Jinan’s plan to infect the Real with strangeworld biologicals.
Inter-world smuggling was a serious crime, and if she was found guilty, Jinan would face exile, or possibly a death sentence. But Jinan was an eidolon, a powerful and influential Strangeworld caste. She could afford to employ someone like Her-eid Argent to slip around the laws.
Meisje put her chin on Elke’s knee and looked at her with dark, anxious eyes. Elke sighed, and smoothed a reassuring hand over the gardag’s head. It always amazed her how quickly Meisje picked up on her moods.
“Anything else I should know?” she asked Dolly.
Dolly scanned the notes on her desk. “Some trouble in R row last night—somebody’s stealing laundry again. Wozniak, you better look into that.”
Wozniak, who had been tipping his chair back so that he could lean against the wall, straightened up. “Sure thing.”
“Some complaints from Fraugeist Minelva—” Dolly twisted her mouth as though she’d bitten on something sour. “Wasting our time, as usual.”
“What’s it about?” said Elke. The Fraugeist was one of the members of the coalition that ran the Eye. An important woman, even if she was rather irritating.
“Her clerks are taking too much time off work. Turns out they’re all sick.”
Elke snorted. “What does she expect us to do about that?”
“She’s annoyed and looking for somebody to blame. There does seem to be a bug going about. Quite a few people up in Solar and Gardens getting sick.” Dolly glanced up at Elke. “What happened with that case of yours, the guy whose partner kicked him out?”
“Oh yes.” Elke frowned. “I haven’t written that one up yet. Turns out the guy who got kicked out really is sick. I spoke to the medics—they put him in isolation.”
Dolly’s eyebrows rose. “They think he’s infectious? What’s wrong with him?”
“Who knows. They wouldn’t tell me. Everything’s ‘highly classified’ or ‘confidential’.”
“They wouldn’t tell you?” Dolly pursed her lips. “Right. I’ll look into that. Soon as you’ve submitted your report.” She turned a page in her notebook. “Oh, yes. Aspirant September is arriving this morning. First gate.”
“What?” Elke stared at Dolly in surprise.
“Seems there was some mix-up with the messages”—Dolly tidied the notes away—“ but yes. You’ll be meeting him this morning.”
“I— Uh— Yes, sure.” Elke rose to her feet. “I better get going, then.”
¤¤¤
Elke strode along the corridors of Short Storage, barely acknowledging the greetings of the can-workers as she went by. Sometimes it felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Everyone seemed to have expectations of her that she couldn’t fulfil. Argent hassling her about the trial, Dolly going on about her besmirched reputation and wanting to push through the promotion, and the whole thing with Mack Jack. Even the children’s visit, much as she looked forward to it, had its complications.
Thandeka Mahlangu, the three children’s adoptive mother, had left them more than a year ago to look for work in the Babylon Eye. They’d never heard from her again. Elke had promised to look for Thandeka, but so far, she had not found any evidence that Thandeka had been anywhere near the Eye.
Despite the carefully worded letters in which she’d tried to convey how unlikely it was that their mother had ever come to the Eye, Isabeau, Ndlela and Noor were certain they would find her if they came to look for her themselves.
Elke wondered what they would make of the news that Jinan Meer wasn’t locked up in a prison cell, as they doubtlessly expected, but was living in comfort in her own quarters in the Babylon Eye. Jinan had hired the thugs that attacked the kids, and she’d been the mastermind behind the plot to infect the Real with biologicals.
And, as if all of that wasn’t enough, Aspirant September would choose today of all days to show up. Elke had known he was coming, of course, but until now the whole idea of somebody taking over her job, of her actually leaving the Eye, had seemed theoretical. Now it felt as if she’d swallowed a lump of stone.
But I want this. Dolly’s right. I’m getting bored with the job. I’m starting to slack off on stuff. If I don’t watch it, I’ll end up like Wozniak, letting my life drift by me in a daze.
She tried not to think about the reason behind Dolly’s push for this promotion. Even though Jinan Meer’s
attempts to frame her had failed, some people still believed Elke had colluded with smugglers. Officially, her name had been cleared, but that did not seem to matter.
She forced her thoughts away from that well-worn track. There was nothing she could do about it. Maybe Dolly’s plan was best, after all. And teaching a new trainee handler and gardag might even be fun.
“Nothing you’ve not done before,” Ncita had told her. “He and his dog have been through the basic training. Passed all the tests. But they don’t know anything about the real job. Do them good to see how you handle things day to day.”
It had seemed like a good idea, at the time. It would be like the old days, back in Kaapstadt working for Ncita, training young gardags and their handlers. She’d just have liked a bit more warning of his arrival.
Elke took the stairs up to Zero level at a run and walked rapidly to the realside portal.
By now, going through the portal to the Real world was a familiar ritual. The guards didn’t even check her papers, they just waved her through. She donned her ear protectors and tied a customised hood over Meisje’s head, to protect the gardag’s sensitive ears from the vibrations of the carillon that opened the way between the worlds.
Meisje whined a little as Elke secured the straps. She hated going through the portal.
A moment later the claxon sounded, and they were out in the briny air of the Ishtar Gate.
No matter how many times she’d done it, there was something deeply odd about stepping into a different world.
Back on the Eye, the day had just begun. Out here in the Real, the sun was dipping towards the horizon, and the orange light of the late afternoon cast long shadows on the oil-stained concrete. A clattering bell signalled that the boat from Kaapstadt had arrived ahead of schedule. Elke hurried up the steps, scanning the ranks of the passengers.
“Hey!”
There was Isabeau, jumping and waving, with her brother Ndlela next to her, and their older sister Noor, trying to keep her wind-whipped hair out of her eyes.
“Hey!” Elke waved back and found herself grinning with pleasure. It was good to see them again. Meisje gave a sharp “whuf” and wagged her tail vigorously.
The queue began to move as soon as the gangplank was secured, and the three kids made their way across to where Elke and Meisje were waiting.
Even at first glance it was obvious that they were better off than when she’d last seen them. Their faces had lost the pinched look of those surviving on a limited diet, and their clothes were whole and clean, an improvement on the ill-fitting, faded rags they’d worn on the Muara.
“You didn’t bring Robbie, did you?” Elke said as they reached her.
Ndlela laughed. “No! He’s with Crosshatch.”
“Isabeau! Stop hopping about.” Noor caught hold of her little sister. “You’ll drop your bag in the sea.”
“No, I won’t.” Isabeau smiled up at Elke. “I’ve been training Robbie, just like you told me to. I did everything. He can do an out-of-sight sit-stay for three whole minutes now. Hello Meisje!” Isabeau crouched to let Meisje lick her face. The gardag wriggled free of Isabeau’s attempted hug to greet Ndlela and Noor as well.
Noor stroked Meisje, then straightened, grimacing as she eased her weight off her twisted foot. She had a new ankle brace, Elke noticed. It looked tighter and more elaborate than the one she’d had before.
“So, Robbie’s behaving himself now?” Elke asked.
Ndlela opened his mouth but Isabeau didn’t give him a chance to contradict her. “He is! Well, he almost is.” She craned her neck to look at the Ishtar gate. “Shouldn’t we be going down there now?” She pointed to the stairs where the rest of the passengers were heading for the portal.
“In a moment,” Elke said. “I’ve got to meet somebody else here too.” She shaded her eyes against the sun, scanning the last of the passengers.
Maybe they didn’t come after all. That would make things simpler. But a moment later she spotted a tall, dark-skinned young man, with an armoured gardag at his heel.
“Aspirant!”
He snapped a sharp salute. “Ma’am!”
Elke suppressed a smile. Ncita had mentioned that the trainee had a military background.
“Hi. I’m Elke.” She held out a hand, and the young man shook it.
“Aspirant Tomas September,” he said. “And this is Danger.”
Elke nodded a greeting at the gardag. He was taller and bulkier than Meisje and unlike her his armour-plating was external and clearly visible. Under the armour, his muscular body was covered in dark, brindled fur, and his jowly face suggested more than a touch Boerboel in his ancestry. His eyes were a clear brown and he looked up at her with the innocent confidence of a well-treated dog.
“Danger”—Tomas stroked his gardag’s head and Elke noted the affectionate gesture with approval—“ This is Constable Veraart.”
Danger promptly sat and gave an enthusiastic bark. Then he looked up at his master, tongue lolling, checking for approval.
Isabeau, Ndlela, and Noor stared at Tomas and his gardag with open fascination.
“Guys,” said Elke. “This is Aspirant Tomas September and his gardag, Danger. Tomas is a trainee gardag handler. Tomas, this is Noor, Ndlela, and Isabeau.”
Tomas nodded earnestly at the kids. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hello!” Isabeau skipped towards the stairs. “Can we go now?”
“Just hold on a moment, Issy.” Elke turned back to the gardag. “Danger.” She let Danger sniff her hand, then stepped aside to make way for Meisje. “This is Meisje. She’s my gardag. This is her home, and she’s in charge here.”
The two gardags sniffed noses. Meisje had her ears pricked and her tail up, relaxed but alert and clearly in control. When she’d finished sniffing, she gave a commanding bark and trotted to the stairs.
“Good!” says Isabeau. “Let’s go.”
¤¤¤
The kids had tourist papers, so they had to use the tourist section of the Ishtar Gate. This meant some quick negotiation with the guards, as Tomas had workers’ papers and should, strictly speaking, enter the Eye through the workers’ gate. Luckily Elke knew the guards on duty, and they didn’t mind bending the rules for her.
Using the tourist entrance meant they had to join one of the guided tour groups, but Tomas and the kids didn’t mind this at all.
They gazed in awe at the Ishtar gate, with its gigantic mosaic of Maxwell Jali and the prancing bulls that surrounded him.
The tour guide explained how Jali, a wealthy gangster who’d made his fortune poaching Kaapstadt’s coastal marine life, had renounced his lawless ways at the arrival of the first Strangers. Jali had used his ill-gotten wealth to finance the building of the Ishtar gate and the Babylon Eye, and so created the first of the stable portals between the Real world and the Strange.
Elke considered the looming image of Maxwell Jali. He smiled benevolently down at them, every tooth picked out in white and golden tiles, his dreadlocks fanned around his head like an enormous black halo. She wondered what had really happened to him in the end.
“There are many legends about Maxwell Jali,” the tour guide recited. “He was one of the only realworlders ever allowed to go through the Eye and into the Strange world. Some say that he lived his last years in the Babylon Eye itself. Others insist that he never returned back through the strangeside portal, and is still alive, somewhere in the Strange...”
Guy must be pretty old then. Elke wondered how much of the story was true. It all seemed a bit too pat and romanticised.
One advantage of the tourist route was that the customs and decontamination procedures were a lot less invasive. Workers had their baggage thoroughly searched and had to strip down to their underwear for the communal decontamination shower. In contrast, the tourists’ bags were given a few professional squeezes, but apart from being passed under the noses of the sniffer dogs, that was the extent of the search.
Elke, Tomas, and the kids each g
ot their own private decontamination booth and didn’t even have to take off their clothes. A wipe-down of face, hands and feet, and a dampening spritz over their clothing, and they were through into the portal corridor.
“Is this really enough?” Ndlela wanted to know. “Couldn’t we be bringing all kinds of germs in with us?”
The attendant who was handing out the wipes just shrugged. “Used to be a lot more thorough, back in the day. Strangeside portal is still that way, apparently.”
Elke was amused at how quickly Tomas lost his formal manner in the face of Isabeau and Ndlela’s friendly questions. Isabeau asked if she could stroke Danger and Ndlela wanted to know how you became a gardag trainee. Even Noor, always a little reserved, listened to Tomas’s answers with interest and asked some questions of her own. They filed into the portal corridor and donned their ear protection, and for a while it was impossible to talk.
After the usual pause, the portal gates swung open and they stepped through into the Zero level of the Babylon Eye.
“Wow!” Ndlela stopped in his tracks, and for once, Isabeau was wordless, leaning on the railing and staring down at the sights below.
Cans boomed and clanged as workers swung them onto the hissing train, and the air was full of the shrill cries of messengers zipping through the crowd on roller-skates. The kids breathed in the scents of oil and steam, laced with hints of grease and spice from the food stalls below.
“It’s so big.” Noor tilted her head back to look up at the arching space of the central well, in which the sparkling solluster, an enormous chandelier-like collection of lights, revolved like a captive galaxy.
“Oh!” Isabeau stepped back and laughed. A bird, glittering like a tiny jewelled toy, had landed on the railing just where she’d been standing. It perched, flipping its tail, and eyed her without a trace of fear. Another bird joined it, and in an instant, they were off again with a buzz of wings.
“What are those! Are they from the Strange?” Isabeau tried to see where the birds had gone.
“They are. Those are smarachts,” said Elke. “You’ll see a lot of them in here.”
The Strange Page 2