‘Hans Gausewitz. Everyone calls me Gaus.’
They shook hands.
Gaus offered to help Saskia up. She ignored him and climbed into the back. Before they moved away, Gaus turned to her and said, ‘He was carrying a gun.’
‘Give it to me.’
‘I thought it would be better if I kept it.’
Saskia said nothing. Gaus exchanged a glance with Pasha. Gaus’s expression was companionable; Pasha’s remained impassive. With a sigh, Gaus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gun. Saskia took it. It was only a .40, but dangerous enough.
‘Head towards Berne,’ she said.
The car pulled away. Saskia settled back and hugged herself. She felt colder than she should. She looked to the Jura mountains. She pictured their extension into France. Ahead were the hills of the Broye River and, still further, Lake Neuchâtel. The journey to the Eiger would take several hours.
Toaster, hello.
‘Hello.’
You told Pasha that the money was to be hidden in a tunnel of the Jungfrau Railway. From where did you get this information?
‘I overheard a conversation between Vladimir Lenin and a Swiss railway clerk.’
Very well. And do you know what happened to my photograph?
‘Which photograph?’
Don’t make me talk to you about humour and confidence intervals again. The one I carry always.
‘I was last aware of the photograph six days ago in St Petersburg, three hours before your infiltration of the Amber Room. You were holding it to your lips.’
Saskia told herself to focus on her present situation. The photograph was only a token, and a forlorn one at that.
Tell me as much as you can about my physical state.
‘The Euler Bridge of your Intra-Cranial Device is down to 52“ efficiency. Your ICD has recruited an emergency physical power source in your spine to provide kinetic energy for your base metabolism. Harmful by-products are now being carried away from your muscles, but not efficiently given your blood volume is of 48”.’
And the rate of putrefaction?
‘Your artificial medical organ has begun producing agents to counteract ammonia and hydrogen sulphide, and certain volatile amines.’
Brain?
‘Hypoxia has all but destroyed your central nervous system. Elements of your peripheral nervous system have been repaired to allow basic sensory and motor function. This means that your mental processing is now entirely based on the chip.’
How much longer do I have?
‘Four to six hours, plus or minus one. Much depends on your level of activity. I would advise you to sleep, and eat some high protein food if you can.’
Saskia tapped Gaus on the shoulder. ‘Food?’
‘Under your seat.’
Saskia felt for the doctor’s bag and opened it. Among other things, there was duck paté left. She licked some from the paper.
Tell me what happened from the point at which I woke up in the Amber Room. Refer to me during this period as Saskia Lacuna.
The card related the story of Saskia Lacuna becoming conscious and her immediate arrest by the duty Hussar, Pavel Eduardovitch Nakhimov. The story was consistent with Pasha’s account.
Saskia swallowed the last of the paté and thought about Pasha. He had always been a serious boy. Square, some might say. But his reaction to her appearance in the hotel room spoke to a change in their relationship over the past few days.
Toaster, did Saskia Lacuna and Pasha become intimate?
‘To my knowledge, no.’
The Ego unit continued with the story from the point when Saskia Lacuna had jumped from the train some kilometres from Geneva. Alone, the woman had hiked to a mountain hut and used a young shepherd to relay a message to Soso. The outlaw had sent his henchman, Kamo.
When the computer told her that Kamo had died during their firefight, Saskia turned to look at the dark pines flanking the automobile.
Saskia had found the years since 1904 to be a great steppe of blankness. Underpopulated and slow. While history was a storm with many fronts, the weather, from Saskia’s perspective, had always seemed mild. Thinking room was ample. Physical maps had unknown regions; the maps of thought likewise had lacunae.
Lacuna, she thought, and the word chilled her. A missing part. She thought of those tumbling chrysanthemums. The red blooms turning.
What had she felt for Kamo? Love? He had brought her flowers once.
‘I’m sorry, but I did not receive your question clearly.’
That thought was not meant for you. Continue.
The card told her about Saskia Lacuna walking to the house on Chemin de la Pie where Lenin and Soso were staying. Saskia had to admire that move. It was brave. Brave with Saskia’s body, of course, but brave nonetheless. Ego then related her death, which had come to her from the knife of a little girl she had tried to protect.
A single cut and coldly done.
Someone had taught that child to kill.
Toaster, she sent, tell me the last thing that you said to Saskia Lacuna as she died.
‘I told her that I would help the Count and Mr Jenner apprehend, but not kill, Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin.’
Saskia nodded. Ego’s plan had been a fair one under the circumstances. It was not for nothing that it was rated as an Agent Singular assistant. But the plan had failed. Pasha’s telegram to the embassy had been intercepted and Mr Jenner betrayed.
Are you aware of my sealed orders?
‘I have not been aware of any until this point.’
My query is designed to make them visible to you. They are, however, encrypted. You can only access them using the following phrase: “My voice is my passport. Verify me.” The phrase should be encoded acoustically. Be sure to preserve the same phonemes and the prosodic contour. Are you done? If so, repeat the orders back to me.
The Ego unit read the orders to her.
‘I am surprised,’ it concluded.
I am not.
‘Will you tell me why it has to end here, like this?’
Saskia pictured the chiral logo of Meta.
For questions beginning with “why”, my little kitchen helper, think about what the ‘m’ in Meta stands for.
‘That is not useful.’
Saskia had had enough. She needed to do something.
‘Gaus, pull over.’
He brought the automobile to a stop near a junction. The headlights extinguished immediately. The rain was a dismal constant on the roof.
Saskia put her hand on Mr Jenner’s gun, which she had slipped under her thigh.
‘I told you about the danger, Gaus. I will not have you killed. Your role is to help me, and you have done so. We will leave you here and drive on. We’re not far from Berne. I suggest you pay a visit to the farm over there and stay the night.’
Gaus had turned around in his seat. He pulled up his goggles to reveal a frustrated expression.
‘I can help you.’
‘You have, and I thank you. I’ll telephone with instructions to reach the Meta cache,’ said Saskia. ‘You may take everything there as payment, but I would ask you to remember your promise to Miss Schild, who wished to go to medical school. Does she have your word?’