Into Everywhere (8 page)

‘Are the wizards safe?’

‘They have arrived at Aunty Jael’s laboratory. I regret that I have no access to her security.’

‘Stay alert. We may need to leave in some haste.’

In the chamber, Ayo and her secretary were waiting with four members of the executive council. Aunt Felicia, the Lady of the Market; Uncle Socrates, who ran the family bank; the justice minister, Avon Abbas Acholonu; and Opeyemi, who returned Tony’s greeting with a stiff unsmiling nod.

Ayo kissed Tony’s cheeks and welcomed him home. It was always a surprise that she was so much taller than him. ‘It has been far too long,’ she said. ‘We have missed you.’

‘And I have missed you, Ayo. But is this any way to greet your prodigal brother? I was hoping for a parade. Or at least one of our walks in the woods. You could tell me how lumber production has gone up and milk yields have fallen, and I could try to amuse you with outrageous lies about my adventures.’

‘For once, the truth is outrageous enough,’ Ayo said.

She was dressed in a white business suit, looked tired and careworn. Tony had been away for two years, but his sister seemed to have aged at least ten, with new lines in her forehead and streaks of grey in her crown of twisted locks.

‘That it is,’ he told her, trying to keep it light, trying to show that he would not be intimidated. ‘Full of thrills and close encounters, and the promise of a wonderfully happy ending.’

He took his seat, facing the others across the table, and explained what the wizards had found on the slime planet, described his escape from the claim jumpers, and restated his belief that the G-class frigate had been owned by the Red Brigade. Felicia and Socrates kept interrupting him for clarification of some point or fact in the fussy way they had, but otherwise he thought that he carried it off pretty well. But as soon as he’d finished, Avon Abbas Acholonu started in, telling him that he had no evidence that the frigate was one of the Red Brigade’s ships.

‘Ordinary claim jumpers do not run to frigates,’ Tony said. ‘It was flying a false police flag—’

‘It could belong to one of the other honourable families,’ Avon said. ‘On a clandestine mission like yours, searching for the same fool’s gold.’

‘No honourable family or corporation would pretend to be the police.’

Tony was smiling, still keeping his tone light, but he was somewhat unnerved. Avon was Ayo’s man; he was the only commoner on the council, and she had promoted him after his meteoric rise through the ranks of the civil service. His direct challenge suggested that Tony couldn’t count on his sister’s support, let alone anyone else’s. The council chamber, with battle flags hung from the ceiling and cases of heirlooms and battle trophies along the walls, an antique gold-visored spacesuit standing beside the double door, all the weight of the family’s storied history, suddenly seemed like a trap.

Avon said, ‘Someone who wanted us to believe they were Red Brigade might fly under a false flag. And the police’s black-ops crews have been known to emulate the pirates they are trying to catch. Lacking any hard evidence as to the claim jumpers’ actual identity and intentions, any story we tell is as valid as any other.’

‘Surely the simplest explanation is the best,’ Tony said. ‘Which is that the claim jumpers had been sent by the Red Brigade to steal the ancient knowledge we had uncovered. I know that Opeyemi agrees with me. It’s why he told me that it was too dangerous to return to Dry Salvages and confront the broker.’

‘Not exactly,’ Opeyemi said. ‘I told you that
if
Raqle Thornhilde had a connection with the claim jumpers, you should do nothing to endanger yourself. But it is now obvious that she was not to blame. It was the leader of that crew of wizards, Fred Firat.’

Socrates said, ‘It doesn’t really matter who the claim jumpers were, nephew. The point is that this sorry incident underscores the unnecessary risks you have been taking.’

‘There’s a feeling,’ Ayo said quietly, ‘that your ship and your talents might be better used elsewhere.’

Tony appealed to her directly. ‘We agreed that there was no better mission than finding a cure for sleepy sickness. That’s why you gave your assent to the deal.’

‘It was not properly scrutinised by the council,’ Felicia said.

‘And it was hardly a commercial venture,’ Socrates said. ‘More of a reckless adventure that nearly ended in disaster.’

They were twins, Felicia and Socrates, seventy years old, with the same round face and broad nose, the same brown eyes. Socrates wore his grey hair in beaded braids; Felicia’s was piled high and wrapped in a brightly patterned scarf.

‘And you don’t have a cure,’ Avon said. ‘You were pursuing what might at best be described as a wild hypothesis.’

‘I have brought back ancient code stored in living libraries,’ Tony said, ‘and a crew of wizards who even as we speak are preparing to unravel its secrets. And I saved those secrets from capture by people who clearly believe they are important. The mission has been a howling success, yet I’ve been forced to account for myself before this so-called emergency meeting. What is it that I’m missing? What do you think I’ve done wrong?’

He had been speaking to Ayo, but it was Opeyemi who answered. As always, his uncle, rail-thin and straight-backed, was dressed in severe black, saying, ‘We accept that the stromatolite code is ancient. And we accept that it may have some small commercial value. But there is no evidence that it has anything to do with finding a cure for sleepy sickness, and the idea that it does was advanced by a man who turned out to be a traitor.’

‘It wasn’t entirely his idea,’ Tony said. ‘It’s widely held that the various kinds of Elder Culture code have a common root.’

‘Quite,’ Opeyemi said. ‘The idea he sold you was not even his. And then he sold you out.’

‘We can’t be certain of that,’ Tony said, ‘because you had him killed before I could put him to the question.’

‘Mr Askia determined that it was necessary to eliminate the traitor before he could do more damage,’ Opeyemi said. ‘I agree with that decision, as does the rest of the council. And we have also agreed that his death has put an end to the matter.’

‘You decided all that before consulting me,’ Tony said, with chilly dismay.

‘There has been much discussion about the mission and its unfortunate termination,’ Ayo said. ‘The council has concluded that it represents a considerable risk, and has come to a decision as to how that risk should be managed. The point of this meeting is not to assign blame to you or to anyone else, but to explain that decision to you.’

‘A hundred days,’ Avon said.

‘A hundred days?’ Tony said.

‘It has been decided that if examination of the stromatolites yields nothing useful in a hundred days, our support for it will be terminated,’ Avon said.

‘Then you may as well terminate it now,’ Tony said. ‘Because unravelling the code will not be easy. We knew that from the beginning. That is why our contract promised to give the wizards open-ended support. A hundred days will not be anywhere near long enough.’

‘There was a strong argument that we should have nothing more to do with it,’ Ayo said, ‘but we reached a compromise.’

‘If your wizards fail to discover anything useful after a hundred days, they will be returned to Dry Salvages, where they can continue their work in any way they see fit,’ Avon said. ‘I have drawn up an addendum to the contract. It is actually quite generous. We still expect to share in the profits from any commercial application, but that share will be reduced pro rata, reflecting the reduction in our support.’

‘We are certain that Raqle Thornhilde will agree,’ Felicia said. ‘After all, it is an opportunity for her to increase her share of any profits by increasing her support.’

‘This is the person who may have betrayed us,’ Tony said.

‘We know who betrayed us,’ Opeyemi said. ‘And it was not the broker.’

‘It’s a question of balancing the investment we have already made with the increased risk of exposure,’ Socrates said.

‘This meddling in things unknown and potentially dangerous is exactly the kind of behaviour that could attract the attention of the police,’ Felicia said. ‘Especially as your so-called claim jumpers know about it.’

‘A hundred days is recklessly generous,’ Opeyemi said. ‘It’s my opinion that we should destroy those stromatolites now. You’re lucky that some on the council hope to salvage a little profit from this farrago.’

Avon said, ‘We have a contract with the wizards and the broker. This is the best compromise.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Opeyemi said, irritated by the reminder of an argument he had lost, giving Tony a stern look across the polished tabletop. ‘You can make amends for your foolishness, nephew, by making sure that those wizards of yours do not cause any more trouble. If they let loose something that overturns everything we have done to rebuild our standing in the Commons I can assure you that you will learn the true meaning of trouble.’

‘I see,’ Tony said.

He knew now that Opeyemi had taken advantage of the adventure on the slime planet to undermine Ayo’s authority, and that the rest of the council had turned on her when it became clear that the enterprise had exposed them to unacceptable risk.

‘I hope you’ll excuse me,’ he said. ‘I must convey this bad news to the wizards at once. They deserve no less.’

Opeyemi opened a window in the air, prodded at something inside it. ‘There is something else,’ he said. ‘It has been decided that the family would benefit if
Abalunam’s Pride
was redeployed. Returned, that is, to its former duties.’

‘Running cargo? But we already have ships doing that,’ Tony said.

‘It is good steady work,’ Socrates said.

‘Necessary work,’ Felicia said.

‘It is in your best interests,’ Ayo said.

‘It is in the best interests of the family,’ Opeyemi said. ‘You have had a narrow escape, nephew. A
lucky
escape. One that highlights the risks this freebooting nonsense has exposed us to. We could have lost a valuable asset.’

‘Thank you for your concern, uncle.’

‘I meant the ship,’ Opeyemi said, and skimmed the window across the table to Ayo.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Tony.

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘What’s in that window?’

‘An executive override,’ Opeyemi said. ‘Ayo, if you please.’

Ayo set her palm against the window’s glow, and there was a sudden empty silence in Tony’s head. The ship’s feed had been cut off.

Felony Flats was a low-rise clutter of light industry, bungalows, apartment buildings and public housing spread across reclaimed marshland east of the city. Boxbuilder ruins and patches of local vegetation on scattered low hills that had once been islands. Wind-turbine farms. Smallholdings and compounds fenced with corrugated iron. A threadbare grid of paved streets and dusty tracks where Lisa had lived during her nadir, amongst the poor and the dispossessed.

She overtook an ancient bus crowded with people inside and out. She drove past a young boy leading a beautiful chestnut horse along the edge of the road. She drove past a cement factory, past a muddy channel where clinker-built fishing boats lay on their sides, waiting for the afternoon tide.

The motel where Willie had pitched camp for the past three years was in a flyblown commercial strip near the shore: a two-storey string of rooms, an empty swimming pool painted sky-blue, and a sign advertising air conditioning, clean rooms and free adult movies. The manager, a skinny young Sikh with pockmarked cheeks and a prominent Adam’s apple, remembered Lisa from the time she’d covered Willie’s back rent after he’d got in a hole over a gambling debt. He folded away the fifty-dollar bill she slipped him, told her that Brittany Odenkirk worked in a bar a couple of blocks down the street, and asked if this was about the trouble yesterday.

‘That depends on the trouble.’

‘Police trouble.’

‘The police police, or the geek police?’ Lisa said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘The UN Technology Control Unit. A guy name of Adam Nevers.’

‘Yes, that was the man in charge,’ the manager said. ‘He sealed Mr Willie’s room with tape and told me I couldn’t rent it out again until his investigation was finished. What investigation this was he would not tell me.’

‘He’s chasing ghosts,’ Lisa said, and held up another fifty and asked if she could check out Willie’s room.

‘If the police find you there,’ the manager said, ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

The room was pretty much as Lisa remembered it, apart from the women’s clothing in the chipboard chifferobe and the make-up and box of tampons in the bathroom. Hard to tell if it had been tossed by the police or not, but she bet that if Willie had left any souvenirs behind, Nevers and his Jackaroo pal probably had them now.

Feeling like a detective, she drove the two blocks to the bar, a low flat-roofed shack islanded in a big dirt lot. A neon sign over the door flickered weakly in the sunlight. Chillies Spot. Behind it, spiny jags of elbow bush caught about with litter sloped down to the steel-grey water of a broad inlet. A warm breeze carried the bitter tang of the sea, subtly different to the scent of the seas of Earth.

Lisa told Pete to sit tight in the back of the pickup truck and keep a look out for men in black, adding, when Pete said he didn’t understand, ‘Like the people who visited us yesterday.’

Pete wagged his tail and said no problem.

Chillies Spot was a dim cave reeking of cigarette smoke, stale beer and disinfectant. Bottles racked in front of mirrors behind the well bar, vinyl booths, a scuffed pool table. It was as if Lisa had time-travelled back to one of the dives where she’d hid from the world in the bad old days. It was alarmingly like coming home.

She spotted Brittany Odenkirk at once – a pale blonde girl, pretty in that brittle way that went quickly downhill after the brief glow of youth faded, talking to a couple of old geezers at the far end of the bar counter – and took a seat and waited. After a couple of minutes the girl drifted over, asked her what she was having.

‘I’d like to ask a couple of questions about your boyfriend.’