‘Surely, Colonel,’ she went on, ‘you’re not content with working for a single master?’
Unspoken: they both knew he already served two powers, and could not always work for the benefit of one without betraying the other – and that if anything he revelled in the ambiguity.
‘Ah, dear Gavi,’ he said. ‘You think you know me, don’t you?’
The use of the familiar form – du denkst dass du kennst mich – caused her to freeze.
‘Ma’am?’ The outer door had opened without her noticing. ‘We have company.’
A military staff-car had pulled up outside, its red pennant showing the yellow hammer and sickle. The driver and two officers inside did nothing for a moment; then a door opened. Nobody got out.
‘You’ll excuse me,’ said Dmitri, rising.
He took the cloth-wrapped metal and pushed it into his pocket.
‘Nice catching up with you,’ he added.
Then he walked out of the café, nodding to the SIS man who stepped aside for him, and slid into the staff-car. For a second, he looked back at Gavriela; then he pulled the door shut. It was a signal for the driver to drop in the clutch and power away from the kerb.
‘What just happened?’ asked the man who had been standing guard.
He tried to find out where Ursula is.
That would be the other reason for Rupert’s using Gavriela: besides the relationship with Ursula, there was her immunity to any psychological influence Dmitri might employ. Mean-while, Dmitri, for safety and as a fallback plan, had informed his people that the British had approached him. It allowed him to turn the play in either direction, unless Gavriela blocked the game totally.
She answered, ‘I have absolutely no idea.’
What she knew for certain was that her first loyalty was to Carl, her son. Going home to be his mother again was her main objective. If she could keep her newfound niece safe as well, that was an added benefit; but Gavriela no longer wanted to work for Rupert, and had no interest in Dmitri Shtemenko’s future, so long as he stayed a long way away from her, preferably on the other side of the Iron Curtain.
Not that such parochial, ephemeral divisions meant anything to the darkness.
TWENTY-THREE
VACHSS STATION, VIJAYA ORBITAL, 2604 AD
The judicial hearing was held in camera, with two non-Pilot humans on the panel, matching the two Pilot representatives and the two Haxigoji. Roger had not expected an even-numbered group, and was curious about the possibility of deadlock in deciding a verdict; then he pushed extraneous thoughts behind him. His primary goal was to make sure Jed was freed.
‘Keep your eyes open,’ had been his briefing officer’s final comment, a throwaway remark that was really something else. So far Roger had not worked out what he was meant to be alert to.
Jed’s incarceration meant confinement to the Sanctuary section of the orbital, no prison cells involved. If he and his fellow Pilots wanted to make an illegal getaway, they had the resources. This was a matter for diplomacy, not military tactics.
The panel was chaired by a soulful-looking Pilot called Ibrahim al-Khalid, who early in the proceedings announced: ‘Vachss Station authorities have agreed to treat certain security matters, to be touched upon in this hearing, as classified material. As one of two Sanctuary representatives here, let me add an official statement of gratitude for that wise decision.’
Beside al-Khalid sat the long-term ‘permanent’ Sanctuary resident, name of Declan Draper. The two humans on the panel were Emma Mbaka, who just happened to be Draper’s partner, and Vilok Khan, who had witnessed Jed killing Rick Mbuli – or the thing that once been Rick – which Roger would have thought disqualified him as an objective judge.
The Haxigoji pair were a female called Nectarblossom and an antler-bearing male called Acid Tang, whose arrival by shuttle from the surface had been marked by a great deal of ceremony, almost reverence, among the station-resident Haxigoji. Since the Haxigoji who witnessed the killing had protected Jed and appeared to approve of his actions – Roger had seen the holo footage as part of his briefing – there should be no problem here.
Not that he was complacent about any aspect of this mission, though it appeared to have little in common with the scenarios he had drilled in so hard in Tangleknot.
‘We look forward to exploring the implications of the defendant’s actions,’ said Nectarblossom through her translation-torc, ‘as a matter of the greatest importance.’
Jed was sitting to one side, wearing old-fashioned mag-bracelets and anklets that could be commanded to snap together, immobilising him. It was a matter of form and out-moded legislation, Roger had been told. Jed had given his usual muscular grin on seeing Roger – they had not been allowed to meet beforehand – then put all his attention on the panel.
‘First I would like to show on board recordings of the event in question. Mr Khan?’
‘As a witness myself’ – Vilok Khan had raised a finger to speak – ‘I will be interested in confirming my subjective memory. If Nectarblossom and Acid Tang agree?’
There was the faintest of perfumes in the air – the Haxigoji conferring with translators turned off – before Nectarblossom said: ‘We too are interested.’
When the holo played through, the Haxigoji pair watched via smartmiasma-distorted air, acting as a dynamically configurable lens, as they sniffed the poorly reproduced scents from the surveillance fragrance-recorders at the original scene. Roger turned away, wincing, but too late: he had already seen Rick’s head being blown apart, and it was as awful now as it had been during the briefing.
He was a witness giving evidence, but there was more than that. The Haxigoji had known that something was wrong about Rick Mbuli – and they had prevented Pilot Holland from coming on board Vachss Station.
Suddenly, Roger understood the unspoken elements of his briefing, the reason for their choosing him specifically, what Ro McNamara had hinted at – and why this really was an intelligence operation. As far as the Admiralty was concerned, Jed’s freedom was secondary; what they wanted to know was simple: could the Haxigoji sense the darkness?
‘We have a question,’ came from Nectarblossom’s torc, ‘regarding the defendant’s targeting the abomination. How did he determine its nature?’
Everyone looked at Jed. He took control of the holo, and replayed an audio portion at high volume: ‘My name. Is. Rick. Mbuli from. Ful gor.’
‘I remembered my friend Roger’ – Jed gestured – ‘telling me about his time on Fulgor, and that name, Mbuli, rang a bell. And I knew Roger had searched the refugee lists: he wasn’t a known survivor.’
Acid Tang’s nostrils widened then closed almost fully. It was a reaction that Roger did not know how to read. Then his attention was drawn by Khan, who asked him to confirm Jed’s statement, which he did. Everything proceeded step by step, until Khan finally declared: ‘I believe Pilot Goran’s actions to be neither homicide nor manslaughter, given that the deceased was not a coherent entity, but a tiny component of the Anomaly engaged in a terrorist action against the station. Dr Mbaka, do you agree?’
It sounded like a memorised speech.
‘I do.’ She looked at Jed. ‘And I would like to thank Pilot Goran for his heroism. His fast thinking and swift action saved not just this orbital, but the entire planet of Vijaya from total catastrophe.’ Then, dropping her formal tone, she added: ‘You were fantastic. Thank you so much.’
Jed grinned, muscles playing in his face.
Roger felt himself relax.
Good. It’s over.
The Haxigoji leaned close to each other, Nectarblossom angling her head to avoid Acid Tang’s dipping antler, then straightened up.
‘We would like to call one more witness,’ said Nectarblossom, ‘before concluding this examination.’
Al-Khalid looked surprised but said: ‘Of course. Please do.’
Everything changed in an instant.