Guardians of Paradise (30 page)
Read Guardians of Paradise Online
Authors: Jaine Fenn
As apprehension made her heart speed up and her hands sweat Nual found herself having to block her own responses and she was relieved when she finally had what she needed and was able to bring the conversation to a close. Hopefully Roake would recall only that he had agreed to look into her request for a new ID, but had decided it wasn’t a priority, because she’d inadvertently let slip that she did not currently have the means to pay his asking price.
She said a hurried farewell to both men, rousing the bouncer from his torpor with an insignificant word. As she left she was barely able to resist the temptation to run or fly from the bar as fast as she could.
No one followed her, and she calmed down as she walked the dusty lanes back to the main road. She was angry at herself as much as anything, for assuming all her problems could be solved with Sidhe talent.
She commed for a cab and got it to drop her round the corner from a certain back-street brothel. The place was about as seedy as Stonetown got, furnished in shabby red and faded gold, with a pervasive odour of sweat and sex. She asked for ‘Peach Blossom’, and after paying the appropriate introduction fee was led to a room decked out in dark colours probably chosen because they didn’t stain. The incense burning on the dresser almost hid the smell of previous clients. ‘Peach Blossom’ was about Nual’s own age, with a heavily made up face and obviously enhanced breasts. She was a little disconcerted to find a female client waiting for her, but at Nual’s gesture sat on the bed next to her. As they chatted lightly, Nual dived into the girl’s mind, looking for her tie to Kahani - and was surprised to discover that ‘Peach Blossom’ - real name Lori - was his half-sister.
That Kahani had let Lori languish in this flesh-market while he was riding high in the favour of the
ngai
s did nothing to enhance Nual’s opinion of the man.
ngai
s did nothing to enhance Nual’s opinion of the man.
The memory Nual created in Lori’s mind was probably less convincing than the one she had left in Roake’s head, but it should be enough to cover her tracks. Nual already knew from Taro that the best way to survive in the trade was not to dwell too closely on time spent with clients. She transferred a generous tip to the girl’s account and left her sleeping peacefully in the large, tawdry bed.
She unfolded her cloak from her bag and once covered sneaked down the back stairs to the building’s dank basement. The half-dozen doors off the dingy corridor looked identical, but she knew which one she needed. She gave three short knocks, paused, then knocked twice more.
‘Who is it?’ called a male voice from inside.
Trying to keep her intonation the same as Lori’s she said, ‘It’s our father’s littler one.’ A stupid code phrase, which he’d insisted on.
‘Is there a problem?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘but I have a package for you, from Roake.’
‘Why the hell didn’t he call me to let me know it was ready?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘What’s wrong? You sound a bit odd.’
Nual cursed the limitations on her powers imposed by the physical barrier of the door. ‘Just a client . . . I’m fine now. Shall I leave the package outside?’
‘No, wait there. Hang on.’ She heard the sound of a bolt being drawn. She stepped to one side and drew the cloak around her, dropping her head to hide her face. The door opened a crack and she looked up carefully to see Kahani peering into the corridor, a small pistol in his hand. His wary expression grew more confused at finding no one there. He pulled the door wider.
Nual stepped into his field of view and threw back her cloak. She stifled his cry with a thought, grabbed him and charged into the room, kicking the door shut behind her.
The room was tiny, a store cupboard with a makeshift bed and a rickety table. She pinned Kahani to the wall with one arm, raised her other arm in front of his face and very slowly extended one of her blades. For this it would be worth paying the fine.
He began to gibber excuses, his eyes round with terror.
She didn’t bother to reply, just went straight in, riding on his fear. Olias Kahani had a very interesting mind - unpleasant, but interesting. He was only half islander, and the behavioural constraints imposed by the
ngai
’s honour system both annoyed and bored him. He genuinely believed himself above such concerns as compassion and morality, seeing them only as signs of weakness. He would have been far more at home somewhere like Khesh City. He particularly delighted in betrayal; the chance to screw over those around him was the highest excitement, particularly when - as often happened - he could arrange for someone else to take the blame.
ngai
’s honour system both annoyed and bored him. He genuinely believed himself above such concerns as compassion and morality, seeing them only as signs of weakness. He would have been far more at home somewhere like Khesh City. He particularly delighted in betrayal; the chance to screw over those around him was the highest excitement, particularly when - as often happened - he could arrange for someone else to take the blame.
Nual found such cunning detachment almost admirable, in a detestable way. It was certainly a reminder of how great the range of human worldviews could be, locked as they were in their individual heads with little or no idea what those around them were thinking. Sidhe experienced no such divisive variety in their outlook and motivations . . . except for her, of course.
Once she had full access to Kahani’s mind she took her time extracting the information she needed, and she did not worry about breaking any mental constructs to get it.
Despite his skill, Kahani’s mistakes were starting to come home to roost now the extent of his perfidy was coming to light. His wife, finally tiring of his lies, had left him a few months before, though he had turned the marriage break-up to his advantage when questions were being asked at work, claiming he’d been under a lot of pressure due to his wife’s unreasonable behaviour . . .
He’d started setting up their mission soon after, playing the
ngai
s off against each other as he loved to do. He told Ruanuku-
ngai
one of Tawhira-
ngai
’s top researchers wanted to defect, a rumour they’d already heard from another source; when Ruanuku set up the mission to extract him, he also tipped off Tawhira-
ngai
. As part of Kahani’s manoeuvrings he had got hold of the floor-plans for the island research base, provided by an agent within Tawhira-
ngai
. Rather than pass these on to Ruanuku-
ngai
he had withheld them, a bargaining chip in case things went wrong. Now the big players were wanting nothing to do with him, he was in negotiation with several smaller
ngai
s to sell the plans. The plans alone made the effort of finding Kahani worthwhile.
ngai
s off against each other as he loved to do. He told Ruanuku-
ngai
one of Tawhira-
ngai
’s top researchers wanted to defect, a rumour they’d already heard from another source; when Ruanuku set up the mission to extract him, he also tipped off Tawhira-
ngai
. As part of Kahani’s manoeuvrings he had got hold of the floor-plans for the island research base, provided by an agent within Tawhira-
ngai
. Rather than pass these on to Ruanuku-
ngai
he had withheld them, a bargaining chip in case things went wrong. Now the big players were wanting nothing to do with him, he was in negotiation with several smaller
ngai
s to sell the plans. The plans alone made the effort of finding Kahani worthwhile.
Delving further into his acutely twisted mind, Nual discovered Tawhira-
ngai
had wanted the extraction brought forward because of her and Taro - the
ngai
wanted the Angels involved and captured - but Kahani had no idea why Tawhira-
ngai
had such an interest in Angels.
ngai
had wanted the extraction brought forward because of her and Taro - the
ngai
wanted the Angels involved and captured - but Kahani had no idea why Tawhira-
ngai
had such an interest in Angels.
Finally Nual decided there was nothing more to be gleaned from Kahani’s mind. She withdrew until some awareness of her physical surroundings returned. She could hear his breathing, harsh and uneven, and smell the stench of urine where he had lost control of his bladder.
She had no doubt that the world would be a better place without this man. She released her hold on his neck at the same time as she stopped his heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘You’re not dead!’
Jarek felt Bez’s cry like a physical blow, the vibrations in the air assaulting his eardrums. He looked over at her, carefully ignoring the way her skin fluoresced and shimmered. ‘No . . .’ he began, the word oozing out between his lips, ‘I’m—I’m not dead . . .’
‘Oh, Tand,’ she continued more quietly, ‘I thought I’d lost you.’ She reached out towards Jarek’s face.
Ah - she thought he was someone else. An easy mistake to make in shiftspace; he’d made it himself, sometimes when he was alone.
He caught her hand and she looked at it, alarmed. ‘Bez, listen to me. You’re hulloci—halla—Bez, this isn’t real. We’re in transit. The shift is playing tricks with my -
your
- mind.’
your
- mind.’
‘My . . . mind?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Weird shit is going to happen. You just have to let it. Try to . . . go with the flow.’ Talking his passengers down during transit was getting to be a habit.
If anything her expression was growing more glazed. Suddenly she blinked rapidly, then looked dismayed. ‘Gone . . . Nothing there.’
‘No, everything’s still here, only . . . it’s a bit fucked-up right now. This will pass. Honestly, it will.’
‘We’re in transit?’ Finally she looked directly at him.
‘Yes!’
‘I didn’t think that had happened yet . . . but it must have.’ She stiffened. ‘You’re touching me. Please don’t.’ Jarek let go of her hand. ‘I want . . . leave me alone now.’
Jarek hesitated. She sounded in control again, but he knew from experience that when someone as tightly wound as Bez went off, they
really
went off.
really
went off.
‘I mean it,’ she said, sounding almost normal. ‘It’s better if I . . . I’ll deal with this. Alone. Please.’ Jarek let her go and pulled himself up onto his couch. Unless she fell down the hatch into the rec-room - and he’d hardly be able to do anything to stop that happening - there was not much she could do to hurt herself on the bridge.
He kept an eye on Bez for the rest of the transit, looking away whenever she looked towards him. She occupied herself by watching her hands, flexing and curling the fingers, all the time muttering under her breath. She sounded like she was reciting strings of numbers.
At one point she froze, hands held out in front of her, palm-up, fingers clawed so hard that the tendons stood out. Distinctly, she said, ‘What those bitches made you do—’ then started to cry. Jarek began to get up, ready to comfort her, but she shook her head and shrank away. ‘Don’t—’ she said.
He didn’t. Eventually she stopped crying and went back to muttering.
When reality finally returned he called over, ‘Bez? Are you all right?’
‘I will be,’ she whispered. ‘Just give me some time.’
He suspected sympathy would probably only embarrass her further; he’d let whatever darkness drove her remain her own affair for now while he got to work restarting the ship’s systems. Everything came up without a hitch. He sent a transponder burst to local traffic control; a couple of minutes later he received an incoming com.
‘Gerault TC to incoming ship: we show a transponder mismatch. Your code is not on record. Hold off until we have queried your transit entry-point. Repeat, do not approach until your ID has been verified.’
Jarek replied in what he hoped was a tone conveying mild confusion and willing co-operation, ‘Not sure what’s happened there, but you go right ahead. We’re in no hurry.’ He waited, counting the seconds needed for the message to travel between the beacon and the hub station and for any reply to return, but there was nothing further. He allowed himself a relieved sigh. The man’s threat to send a message back to Tarset wasn’t a problem. In fact, they were counting on it.
Changing the
Judas Kiss
’s transponder signature had been relatively easy. The surface content of a ship’s broadcast ID was largely up to the captain; what mattered was the embedded quantum key, which had to match ConTraD’s records . . . or not. Bez had created a brand new key and spliced it into his ship’s transponder message, something Jarek hadn’t even realised was possible. Naturally the ID he was using now wouldn’t match the local system records for the
Judas Kiss.
In fact, it wouldn’t match any ship local traffic control currently had on record.
Judas Kiss
’s transponder signature had been relatively easy. The surface content of a ship’s broadcast ID was largely up to the captain; what mattered was the embedded quantum key, which had to match ConTraD’s records . . . or not. Bez had created a brand new key and spliced it into his ship’s transponder message, something Jarek hadn’t even realised was possible. Naturally the ID he was using now wouldn’t match the local system records for the
Judas Kiss.
In fact, it wouldn’t match any ship local traffic control currently had on record.
He levered himself out of his couch and wobbled over to Bez, who was still sitting on the floor. When he reached out to help her up she gave him a slightly panicked stare, then took his hand.
‘Let’s get ourselves a drink while we wait,’ he said as he helped her stand.
‘I need to get clean,’ she whispered.
‘Sure. I guess things’ll all happen by themselves now, anyway. Either your mirror-worm did the business or it didn’t.’
‘It did,’ she said with a self-assurance he didn’t feel up to questioning.
While Bez showered, Jarek drank caf and tried not to fret. At the precise moment the
Judas Kiss
had made its transit from Tarset, Bez’s worm had been racing back at the speed of light, piggy-backing the beevee message that was registering the transit with ConTraD and using this unique opening to insinuate itself into the usually inviolate records of the Consolidated Traffic Database. The timing had to be perfect, hence the need for her to be on the bridge as they entered shiftspace. Once her worm got access to ConTraD it would insert new registration data for a nonexistent ship with the quantum key that Jarek was now using; a fraction of a second later her update would overwrite the record that showed the
Judas Kiss
had just made a transit, replacing it with the now-valid ID of the new ship.
Judas Kiss
had made its transit from Tarset, Bez’s worm had been racing back at the speed of light, piggy-backing the beevee message that was registering the transit with ConTraD and using this unique opening to insinuate itself into the usually inviolate records of the Consolidated Traffic Database. The timing had to be perfect, hence the need for her to be on the bridge as they entered shiftspace. Once her worm got access to ConTraD it would insert new registration data for a nonexistent ship with the quantum key that Jarek was now using; a fraction of a second later her update would overwrite the record that showed the
Judas Kiss
had just made a transit, replacing it with the now-valid ID of the new ship.
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