Sons of the Crystal Mind (Diamond Roads Book 1) (14 page)

“The terms contain instructions to the Basis. If the courier does not deliver the item to the agreed location at the agreed time then something bad happens.”

“How bad?” Ursula says.

“The bad thing could be as simple as transferring every kilo in the courier’s Aerac to mine. Or the terms could instruct the Basis to grow a cannon next to the courier and blow his head off.

“In common with most of Diamond City, we don’t like terms. Both parties have to agree to them and once agreed, the terms can’t be changed or cancelled. Then there are in-Aer records, that sort of thing. Our solution is more open-ended.”

“Do you ever give the people back?” I say.

“Yes. There are many different ways to make money out of people Charity. Coming from Centria, you should know.”

“Centria is different,” I say, not quite convinced.

“Centria likes publicity,” Steeber says. “That’s the only difference I can see.”

I feel more alienated from this man than I ever did in Centria.

“I don’t think we can work for you Steeber,” I say.

“Pity,” Steeber says, “especially now you know so much about us.”

“We won’t say anything,” I say.

He looks at Ursula again and then smiles at me. I want to run but instead I grip the chair so my hands won’t shake because whatever is wrong with Centria somehow involves Steeber Loke.

“Tell me how you got that document,” he says.

His face holds no expression, the state in which I think Steeber is most comfortable.

“My dad is a Centrian spy and he sent it to me,” I say.

Ursula looks at me. I hear her swallow.

“Who was he spying on?” Steeber says.

“The New Form Enterprise,” I say.

Steeber looks surprised.

“Were there other files?” he asks.

“Some more like the one I sent you,” I say.

“Has anyone else got this information?” Steeber says.

“Dad and one other.”

“Who?”

“Someone in Centria.”

Lin Lin Lin and the guards surround us.

“Who?” Steeber says again with that polite, otherworldly calm.

For the first time Ursula looks scared.

“Our mother. She’s Dad’s Operator. They’re soldiers. If you kill us they will-”

“Yes, yes,” Steeber says. “Where is your father?”

“I don’t know.”

I feel a gun against the back of my head as two guards seize Ursula’s arms. She kicks her long legs ineffectually. Lin Lin Lin punches both of Ursula’s thighs in terrifying quick succession. Ursula’s feet thud to the floor as the feeling leaves them. Lin Lin Lin jumps onto Ursula’s lap, pinning her to the chair.

“Hmm, hmmm, mmm,” Lin Lin Lin says with dead-eyed intensity.

She grabs Ursula’s throat as a small knife with a serrated edge grows out of the floor. The guard with the Blank girlfriend picks up the knife and hands it to Lin Lin Lin.

“Ah,” Lin Lin Lin says, “Budget Stabmaster 5000. Lovely.”

“Wait!” I say.

The gun barrel traces a scratchy little circle in my hair. Lin Lin Lin taps the knife against her chin thoughtfully as she examines every contour of my sister’s face. Eventually, Lin Lin Lin nods to herself and holds the point of the knife against Ursula’s left eye.

“Dad’s hiding!” I shout.

Lin Lin Lin grunts and seems to restrain herself reluctantly.

“Why?” Steeber says.

“There’s a Velossin after him,” I say.

Steeber’s gaze doesn’t waver but something changes in the tense atmosphere, as if he has come to a decision. Lin Lin Lin slowly moves the knife away from Ursula’s eye and turns to me.

“We can find you,” Lin Lin Lin says.

“Understood,” I say.

Lin Lin Lin takes her time getting off Ursula and steps back. Shakily, I get up and so does Ursula. Steeber remains seated.

“Your father must be quite a problem for someone,” Steeber says.

“How so?” I say.

“Velossin are incredibly expensive,” Steeber says. “Part of the deal is that if you do manage to kill the one after you – and you won’t by the way – another is despatched in his place.”

I try not to stumble as I grab Ursula’s arm. The floor whisks us back to the elevator in a traumatic blur.

19

Our vehicle is a graceful silver lozenge, six metres long by three across although the interior is smaller to hide the Basis interaction pads. The hull can be one or two-way-transparent and is currently set to reveal a strip of MidZone view around the sides with another across the ceiling and floor. Operated in-Aer with a set of backup controls at the front of the cabin, the ship will get us out of trouble fast although the patent commission was a ruinous 15%.

In the three hours since Fulcrus we have tried to get over our experience there with limited success. Ursula slumps on the long seat opposite mine, her expression glazed. At least she has stopped shaking.

I feel less shocked than depressingly resigned. Everyone outside Centria seems so much more cunning and worldly than I am. How are we going to last long enough to learn basic survival?

I look down through the window. We are on an unplotted, unpredictable course and fly equidistantly between the ceiling and the floor. This part of MidZone is called Gereleye. Diamond roads, mezzanines and graceful buildings curve gently away. With its subtle, almost muted colours, Gereleye lacks Centria’s dizzying glamour or the dark pulse of other MidZone districts but is more calming for it. Daylight is standard throughout and adverts appear to be planned so they don’t deteriorate into a storm of blinding noise. The even spread of landscape has a pleasant effect and I actually start to relax.

Suddenly I get a strange feeling. Ursula hasn’t moved; the ship’s interior is unchanged so I look outside. A few other vehicles are on courses similar to ours but none are close. In the distance a dark green warship drifts behind a set of assemblies that descend from the ceiling like giant frozen waterfalls. I turn to study the area behind us. There’s nothing there, which surprises me because I now recognise the sense of being followed.

“What a dick,” Ursula says.

Her voice is a welcome interruption to my unease.

“Who?” I say.

“Loke. Why would Centria do business with someone like him?”

“I don’t understand that either,” I say. “The answer is in the mission files.”

I get them up and go through anything to do with Fulcrus, which is easier now I know their business model. The accounts detail payments from Centria to Fulcrus for a product called ‘Zero’.

“Did you ever hear about anything or anyone called ‘Zero’?” I ask Ursula.

“No.”

I sink back into the data.

There’s no pattern to the payments from Centria; even the timings are off. Remembering what Steeber said about interest payments I factor those in but the information still doesn’t make sense. Increasingly frustrated, I buy an advanced accounting program and feed it the numbers. They tell me Centria’s payments to Fulcrus total nearly a million kilos.

I find a new focus, partly from fear and partly from Ursula. I look over at her. Scruffy and scared she is no less wonderful and here with me alone, just how I always wanted her. She sees me looking and bugs her eyes. I smile. Everything seems easier.

I start again. With effort, I don’t project any expectation onto the figures and try instead to understand what is actually there. Soon I settle into a rhythm. Comfortable on the seat, I concentrate all my energy on analysis and fly over the data like the ship over MidZone.

* *

My head hurts despite fatigue adjustments made by the eye screens. In-Aer coordinates show the ship is still in Gereleye, where we have flown in a long loop for the past hour.

I open my eyes to look past the data at Ursula. She lies on her front looking sadly down at the seat. I want to put my comforting arms around those familiar shapely shoulders and stroke that shiny dark hair, which is kinked on one side now that Ursula has abandoned her rigorous beauty regime.

I will give the data ten more minutes, after which we can land and get a drink. I close my eyes and start to work again. Distracted by the prospect of relaxing with Ursula I skip over a familiar name and read on.

The name tugs at me. I go back to it and gasp as my eyes fly open.

“What is it?” Ursula says.

“Fulcrus is owned by VIA Holdings.”

Ursula jolts towards me as the facts jostle in my mind.

“Bal suggested the meet and greet,” I say. “The Sons of the Crystal Mind sabotaged it. Bal’s company, VIA Holdings, secretly backs the Sons. VIA Holdings also owns Fulcrus, a company that seems able to hold Centria to ransom.”

“What has Fulcrus got on Centria?”

“Whatever is wrong with it I suppose.”

“And Mum and Dad’s mission uncovered VIA Holdings using Fulcrus to blackmail Centria…”

“Just as VIA Holdings and Centria were about to merge,” I say.

We stare at each other.

“The merger will benefit VIA Holdings enormously,” Ursula says.

“Yes…”

“It will go from a crappy tenth-rate outfit to the most powerful company in Diamond City.”

I watch Ursula put it together.

“Mum and Dad’s discovery could properly screw that merger up,” she says.

“So Bal and Loren had a strong motive to attack Mum and Dad and discredit us,” I say.

After the icy calm of analysis, rage lights up inside me. I shout and thump the ship’s wall. The impact on the light craft satisfies.

“Let’s go and fucking beat it out of them,” Ursula says.

As the ship changes course and accelerates I picture 88 Rabian’s burning face. Balatar Descarreaux was the architect of that atrocity and the cause of everything that has happened since. Loren is as guilty but inspires less hatred; unlike her, Bal has never bothered to hide his contempt. He considers me a minor being he can take his frustrations out on. Something about his disdain chimes unpleasantly with my ignorance about myself, confusion Bal obviously regards as weakness.

Ursula doesn’t feel this despair; she just wants to destroy them. Her aggression is a tangible force, simple and beguiling. It gives me clarity. I let my rage build.

Ursula climbs onto the front seat while I slip in beside her. She engages the ship’s controls and opens the front view until the great curves of Gereleye spread before us. They begin to streak past as Ursula increases our speed, her expression fixed and ferocious.

We finally leave Gereleye and swoop through a glowing cavern hung with slender white spires that taper down, their pointed tips suspended just above the surface of a motionless black lake. The ship yaws automatically to avoid the spires or I’m sure Ursula would just smash her way through.

I grip my seat as we pitch forward and then bank right through an arch into a more familiar MidZone chamber: big, noisy and full of clashing adverts. Speed breaks them into bright fragments and my restraint vanishes in a blinding kaleidoscopic rush.

I’ve got the n-gun up and its target sight jumps around my vision. I swat at it. I could kill anyone. For the hell of it I go to fire-

I stop. Slowly, I force myself to relax. I have to protect Ursula and stop her doing something mad that will get us both killed. How many more chances are we going to get? This is Diamond City, where luck is as rare as trust.

Also, Mum said there was something wrong with Centria. VIA Holdings is outside Centria, so whatever Bal and Loren are up to relates to the wrongness but is not the main problem. I’ve got more work to do on those files and less on obliterating Bal, which is a pity.

“Ursula,” I say.

She doesn’t hear.

“Ursula,” I say again. “They’ll cut us to pieces.”

She looks at me. Our brief exhilarating link is broken.

“An excuse to get rid of us permanently might even be what they want,” I say gently.

The ship slows down.

“I’ve got a plan,” I say.

“Go on.”

“We buy part of a building… in VIA Holdings.”

The ship speeds up again.

“Ursula!”

“Seriously Charity? Buy a building? That’s your plan?”

“We need to outsmart them!”

“By giving them business? Fuck no!”

“We can spy on them from there! They both move freely around the complexes. We get closer to the centre, room by room so we’re there at the right time and-”

“We waste them,” Ursula says.

“We question them! Don’t you want to know what’s really going on?”

“That could take years!”

“We’re hardly busy!”

Ursula’s mouth is tight and her breathing heavy with anger. She blinks a few times and calms down slightly.

“They won’t sell to you or to me,” she says eventually.

“We can set up a trading identity so someone else can buy the building for us…”

“There isn’t time Charity. How long are they going to keep Mum hooked up in Centria? And Dad…”

“You need to help me Ursula,” I say quietly.

She huffs and stares out of the window. Suddenly, she looks at me.

“I know who will buy the building,” she says.

“Who?”

“Ruben Toro.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Ursula says. “He genuinely loves me, not like those other phoneys.”

“The ifarm will alert Security if you call him.”

“I’ll ask him to meet us near Centria. He can lose them long enough for us to let him know what we want.”

“Will he really risk becoming an ex?”

“Never underestimate obsessive love Charity.”

Why do I think of Harlan? He’s not obsessed with me and I’m not obsessed with him.

Ursula’s eyes go out of focus for a moment as she sends Ruben the message. I think she grasps the uncomfortable truth that this plan is all we’ve got. The alternative is an entropic spiral to the Outer Spheres, looking behind us all the way.

“Ruben says he’s coming,” Ursula says. “We’re on.”

The ship changes direction. I shift on the seat uneasily, conscious that even if we do find out what’s wrong with Centria we will never be able to go back there.