Janus (43 page)

Elinda watched the sunlight sparkle on the river below them. Behind her, she could still feel Grebbel’s crouched presence. He would have to see there was no alternative for him; he would have to accept whatever the authorities offered. There might still be a life for them. Weed trails swayed in the current, a fish leapt. The future was as hidden from her as the ocean that lay beyond the mouth of this river. Shivering, she hugged herself and closed her eyes.

Faces drifted into her mind. Carlo, saying,
I made you what you are.
Henry, with his machines and his smooth rationalisations. Strickland’s haunted look. Barbara. And Leon, Charley, Jessamyn, Dr. Miller . . . She saw them grouped around her, breaths drawn, waiting; and she sensed the river of sound that was dammed within them. They were waiting for her. And within her, there was only silence.

The valley slid below Jon Grebbel like a tape rewinding onto its spool. All the control he had over his life now was held in his hand. The dam with its swirl of white water came into view. One twitch of a finger . . . And what would decide that? His own will or the cancer they had planted in him? His thoughts circled upon themselves like a snake eating its own tail. He had done—had built a life by doing—horrible things; and now he was offered redemption and love. But whatever he had been, the things they had done to him were worse, and the proof of that was that their taint still clouded his reason.

He had fled from a childhood nightmare into an existence founded on pain, and fear—had been driven by fear of the loss of self, so that love brought demands he could not endure; and he could make life bearable only by asserting his own separateness.

He had had pride, and power, had been in control of his life, had known what he was; and now they were beating him down like a mongrel dog, and twisting his mind to make him like it.

The two visions were clear and separate—and how was he to choose, when choosing relied on powers of judgement that had been defiled? The snake had impossibly gnawed its way up the spine and was devouring its own brain.

“I’ll tell you what I told them,” Menzies said to Carlo. “As far as we know, it was just the one piece of sabotage, but most of the circuits in the workings blew. It’ll be a while before things are back to normal.”

The two stood uncomfortably together outside the Hall, where the new team from the Flats were in the middle of their preliminary interviews. The investigation was evidently just in its early stages.

“You really think they will get back to normal?” Carlo asked. “Dr. Henry’s in intensive care. He was shot. By an illegal gun,” he added straight-faced. “You didn’t know? And apparently he was delirious when they found him, and some of his babblings are raising eyebrows. There was a recording too, apparently. He wasn’t the man I thought I knew. There’s going to be a big investigation, and the goals of this place are going to be questioned. You know what I’m talking about?”

“The memories, the deceptions. Yes, I know. I know more than you probably imagine. And Niels is dead. There’s going to be questions asked about that too.”

“Madame Security’s in charge and apparently talking her head off. I can’t see us having any anniversary celebrations—there’s going to be a full enquiry.”

“I’ll be asking some questions myself—asking me, about things I thought I’d settled already. I relied on Niels a lot, you know, about what’s right. And now I don’t know. I’m going to have to look for my own answers.”

The dirigible was landing. The field was watched by troops in riot gear. Grebbel wondered if they’d been flown in from the Flats, or they were more militia who had appeared out of the woodwork. “Whose stable door do they think they’re shutting now?”

“You wanted to talk,” the officer said. “There are people in the control tower waiting for you. Let’s go.”

The world was becoming unreal. Among the crowd outside the armed cordon, he saw Carlo and Partridge, and they seemed to be creatures he had met in dreams. The astronaut was white-faced and shaking. In his black exoskeleton, he looked like a creature imprisoned in a cage that was growing from his flesh.

Inside the main building there were others, mostly in uniform; some Grebbel recognised, most he did not. Elinda was still with him. Carlo was whispering urgently to her. She said something, then handed him a small black instrument that he took away.

A few minutes later Carlo was called back to examine Grebbel’s ankle. Carlo bandaged it and applied an emergency cast, then found an elbow crutch for him.

“They expect me to walk out in front of the firing squad myself, then?”

“Don’t ask me,” Carlo muttered. “I don’t know what they’re planning for you.”

“How about your boss? Is Dr. Henry going on to another honoured research position? I’m sure he’d need a trusted assistant.”

“He’ll live, that’s all I know. And keep your voice down. I’ll have enough troubles when the storm breaks.”

“Well, it’s nice to think the old virtues of secrecy and self-interest haven’t quite died out.”

“Self-interest. Your friend Osmon died on the way down from the mountain. Are you interested in that?”

“There are worse fates,” Grebbel said. “Or was he helped on his way?”

“Only by you, I’d imagine. It’s not easy, but I’m going to have to decide—I’m going to tell them everything I know. You can plan your own actions accordingly.”

“Commendable. Most commendable. Think you can stick to it?”

Carlo turned and walked away.

Others replaced him, with questions, demands, offers.

Grebbel’s mouth talked. It made counter-offers, promises; answered or deflected questions; and he could not tell whether he or the cancer they had put in his mind was using it.

“. . . in the workings on the other side of the dam,” he finished. “A time fuse and an antipersonnel fuse. I’m the only one left who could disarm it before the timer runs out. I’ll disarm the deadman switch, now . . . there. But I’ll keep it with me, if you don’t mind. If you want any other questions answered, you might prefer to wait until I’ve disarmed the timer; you’ve got twelve minutes before it detonates.”

And then he was being taken to one of the trucks. She tried to follow, and one part of the chaos in his head rebelled. “Stay here,” he shouted. To the guards: “Keep her away from me, or the deal’s off, I’ll let the thing blow.” They looked suspicious, but they hustled her away.

Elinda watched as Grebbel was escorted into the truck and driven across the dam. He must be going to disarm the explosive, but his manner looked anything but conciliatory. His arrogance was in full play, even as he limped to the truck. She tried not to think what he might be planning.

Carlo appeared at her side with a mug of fish stew and a sandwich. “You’d better eat,” he said. “There’s a long day ahead of both us. They’re listening to the recording again now. I don’t think you’ll be in deep trouble, but there’s going to be an investigation.”

“Right. Thanks. And you? Where will all this leave you?”

“I don’t know. They’ll still need someone, I imagine, to do some of my jobs. . . . I didn’t know what he was doing. Please believe me. Perhaps I didn’t want to know, perhaps I should have checked up more, but I never imagined he could be hurting anyone. First I thought Barbara’s conditioning might have slipped and thrown her into shock somehow. Then when she didn’t respond to treatment, I started to wonder. I’d guessed some of the psychopaths might be reverting. I thought perhaps she’d run into one. But I never imagined, never for a moment, it could have been him.”

“Right.” The four men had gone into the workings on the far side of the river. The silence filled her head. She could not think or feel.

“I saw Barbara this morning before they brought you down off the mountain,” Carlo said. “She’s coming out of it, I think. She asked me what day it was.”

“Ah,” she heard herself say. “Jessamyn was good for her then,”

The river was bright in the sun, and the two raptors circled over it. The empty truck was still at the far end of the bridge.

Elinda turned slowly to face Carlo. “It’s too much, right now,” she whispered. “Did you ask her . . . do you think she’ll see me?”

“I think she will, but of course . . .”

“. . . things will be different.”

The truck with Grebbel and the three guards pulled up at the far side of the dam, where the turbine room was carved out of the cliff. “In there,” Grebbel’s voice told them.

“All right, but we’re staying with you to keep an eye on you.”

“It would be simpler for us all if you didn’t.”

What had made him say that? That drivelling voice they had implanted again?

Always the image in the glass was his face, and always the fist that shattered it was his own. “You made your last deal back there. Now get on with it.”

He hobbled from the truck. The tunnel went into the rock for twenty metres before descending to the chamber where the new generators were still being installed. Some of the lights strung above had gone out, and the shadows forked from the men and wheeled crazily as they approached the steps.

The lights had all failed here, and they groped in the dim glow reflected from the horizontal shaft. Down. Step. Down. Floor underfoot. Eight steps now to the storeroom. Count—