‘Of course,’ said Gaus, angrily. Then he seemed to check himself. ‘If that’s what you wish, then that’s what I will do, Agent Singular.’
‘Russia thanks you, too,’ said Pasha. He was younger than Gaus but his voice had a paternal edge. ‘There are many who agree with the principles of these men, but not their willingness to embrace criminality.’
To this, Gaus did not reply. He discarded his gauntlets and the goggles, then stepped down from the car. Saskia swung around to the front seat. She had the gun in her hand, but kept it hidden beneath her cape.
‘Oblige me,’ said Pasha. ‘Return to Mr Jenner. If something happens to us in Grindelwald, I need you to see that he has a Christian burial.’
Saskia was annoyed that Pasha had revealed their destination. However, she said nothing. If she corrected him with a plausible alternative, this would only draw attention to his blunder.
‘We have to go,’ she said. ‘Thanks for everything. You were well chosen.’
Saskia gave him the storm lantern and watched as he crouched in front of the engine. She checked that the gear stick was in neutral, then pumped the accelerator. Gaus turned the crank and the engine started with a roar.
They pulled away, leaving Gaus a rather sorry figure with his dim lantern.
‘That was hard on him,’ said Pasha.
‘Can you drive this automobile?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘I’m going to stop at the next bend. You’ll take over.’
‘If you insist.’
They exchanged places at a small passing place on the road. Pasha donned the goggles and gauntlets. It was colder in the front seat, and not entirely dry, so Saskia removed a blanket from the boot and laid it across her legs.
‘How do you find driving, Pasha?’
‘It’s rather like skating!’ he shouted, swerving left and right to demonstrate. He had a tendency to mash the gears and stray from the centre of the road, but he was a fast learner. It was not long before he became accustomed to the loose steering and could keep the vehicle at a constant thirty-five kilometres per hour, though he had a tendency to use the handbrake at speed.
They drove on in silence for another five kilometres, passing through Berne and turning south-east towards Lake Thun. The paling band of sky was serrated by the mountain line. Three of those peaks, running left-to-right, were the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau: the Ogre, the Monk and the Maiden.
She was looking into the darkness beyond the light of the headlights when Pasha said, ‘I understand that you wanted to spare him trouble, but he might have made all the difference. He’s fit and eager. An alpinist, he told me.’
Saskia opened her mouth to elaborate on her feelings about Gaus, then thought better of it. ‘A doctor and his woman travelling at night will be easier to explain to the police,’ she said. ‘We’re based in Berne and we are to see a patient in Kleine Scheidegg.’
Pasha nodded doubtfully. Saskia glanced at him. Though she felt uncomfortable with his romantic attitude, Pasha had managed to hide it since leaving the hotel. No doubt he also grieved for his father and Mr Jenner. But he had committed himself to her service and, with the fresh professionalism of a man newly committed to the military, he was soldiering through. But what would happen when their missions diverged? How fast would she become an enemy to him?
They threaded the Interlaken pass. The rain had stopped and dawn was a whitening strip against the snowcaps. An arc of spindrift reached into the sky above the four thousand metre peak of the Eiger, reddening with the last of night.
‘Stop here,’ she said, when they approached a lay-by halfway between Alpiglen and Kleine Scheidegg, the high pass at the foot of the Eiger where the uncompleted Jungfrau Railway began its ascent into the very mountain. ‘There is a chance that I might be recognised by the people staying in the hotels.’
‘Shall I go on alone?’
‘Yes. I’ll stay in the car. I must remain mobile.’ Saskia looked at the north wall of the Eiger. Even with the night upon it, the higher snowfields glowed. ‘I need you to find out the extent of the hollows within that mountain.’
‘You mean the Jungfrau Railway?’
‘Yes,’ said Saskia. ‘Things like the number of service tunnels, how many workers we might expect, and the likelihood of finding explosives on the site.’
‘What will be our plan?’
‘It’s still early. There should be time for us to hike up the tunnel itself. We will find the money.’
‘How will we carry it?’
‘We will improvise.’
‘There are sure to be workers, or at least a guard. They will see our lantern.’
Saskia put her hand on his. ‘Do you remember your dream? You saw a man conducting monologues above a million solitudes.’
Pasha looked at the mountain. Its face, and the sky beyond, was becoming brighter by degrees.
‘There was a red star above him.’
‘The star will fall today,’ Saskia said. ‘If you help me.’ She reached into her bosom and withdrew the amber spectacles. ‘For us, even inside the mountain, it will never be dark.’ She slid them onto Pasha’s face.
Make the spectacles work for him.
‘That is not permitted.’
Do it, Toaster.
Pasha’s eyes widened. He laughed.
‘Is it a kaleidoscope?’
‘No,’ Saskia said. ‘Just as a telescope allows you to see far away things as though they were closer, these spectacles show you things in darkness as though they were lit.’
‘This is German in design, is it not?’
‘You have to ask? Now, Pasha, go to the next hotel. Tell them that you are a tourist and your car has broken down. Keep to English. Don’t tell them that you are Russian, or that you are travelling with a woman. Tell them that you intend to take the Jungfrau Railway later today. The railway is not complete but it does take paying passengers part of the way. Ask about it. They’re sure to have some pamphlets, perhaps a map.’
Pasha stepped down and gave her a serious nod before walking away in the direction of Kleine Scheidegg, the pass that connected Grindelwald with Lauterbrunnen. Saskia watched him through the dirty glass of the windscreen. He was minuscule against the immensity of the landscape. Saskia had not loved him. She hoped Lacuna had.
With that thought, a certain coldness settled upon her, gradual as falling snow. She could feel her fitness decaying along with her tissues. Her vision, too, was failing at the edges. Dark motes flickered. She pulled off her gloves and looked at her ashy fingers. They seemed out of scale, as though they were faraway monuments foreshortened by a lens.
She looked at the Eiger. The sky above it had cleared.
How much longer do I have?
‘Hours. Again, I suggest you sleep.’
She took the Bébé’s driving manual from a compartment beneath her seat and found a thick, blunt pencil in the dashboard. In the gloom, she tried to sketch out the scene of the photograph that she–that is, Saskia Lacuna–had lost. Toaster, she mused. Why did the other Saskia take possession of my brain chip? Was she on a mission?
The Ego unit told her the story of Saskia Lacuna’s world-line. For her, Soso would adopt the name Man of Steel and come to rule Russia and part of Europe. The symbol of his power was a red star. Saskia could imagine it behind his platform, growing in size and deepening in colour, as he spoke across the countless solitudes.
‘Saskia Lacuna told me that, in the future of her world-line, Soso would be responsible for the deaths of millions,’ continued Ego. ‘When she became aware that this world-line was not her own, and that its future was unknown to her, she resolved to make a difference here. She resolved to remove him from the world-line.’