‘You what?’
She leaned closer again. Spoke directly and sibilantly into my ear.
‘I said, you send her back to me whole, Kovacs. These joke revolutionaries, that’s a fight we can have another time. But they harm any part of Mitzi Harlan’s mind or body and I’ll spend the rest of my existence hunting you down.’
I grinned back at her in the noise. I raised my voice as she drew back.
‘You don’t frighten me, Aiura. I’ve been dealing with scum like you all my life. You’ll get Mitzi back because I said you would. But if you really care that much about her, you’d better start planning some lengthy holidays for her offworld. These guys aren’t fucking about.’
She looked down at Sylvie Oshima.
‘It isn’t her, you know,’ she shouted. ‘There’s no way for it to be her. Quellcrist Falconer is dead. Really dead.’
I nodded. ‘Okay. So if that’s the case, how come she’s got all you First Family fucks so bent out of shape?’
The security exec’s shout became genuinely agitated. ‘Why? Because, Kovacs, whoever this is – and it’s not Quell – whoever this is, she’s brought back a plague from the Uncleared. A whole new form of death. You ask her about the Qualgrist Protocol when she wakes up, and then ask yourself if what I’ve done here to stop her is so terrible.’
‘Hoy!’ It was my younger self, elbows crooked under Sylvie’s knees, hands spread expressively wide beneath. ‘Are we going to load this bitch, or are you going to stand there talking about it all night?’
I held his gaze for a long moment, then lifted Sylvie’s head and shoulders carefully up to where Sierra Tres waited in the swoopcopter’s cramped cabin. The other Kovacs shoved hard and the rest of her body slid in after. The move brought him up close beside me.
‘This isn’t over,’ he yelled in my ear. ‘You and I have some unfinished business.’
I levered one arm under Sylvie Oshima’s knee, and elbowed him back, away from her. Gazes locked.
‘Don’t fucking tempt me,’ I shouted. ‘You bought-and-paid-for little shit.’
He bristled. Brasil surged up close. Aiura laid a hand on my younger self’s arm, and spoke intently into his ear. He backed off. Raised one pistol finger and stabbed it at me. What he said was lost in the wash of the rotors. Then the Harlan security exec was shepherding him away, back along the parapet to a safe distance. I swung myself aboard the Dracul, made space beside me for Brasil and nodded at Sierra Tres. She spoke directly to the pilot and the swoopcopter loosened its hold on the parapet. I stared out at the other, younger Kovacs. Watched him stare back.
We lifted away.
Beside me, Brasil had a grin plastered across his face like the mask for some ceremony I hadn’t been invited to attend. I nodded back at him wearily. Suddenly, I was shattered, mind and body. The long swim, the unrelenting strain and near-death moments of the climb, the tightwired tension of the face-off – it all came crashing back down on me.
‘We did it, Tak,’ Brasil bellowed.
I shook my head. Mustered my voice
‘So far, so good,’ I countered.
‘Ah, don’t be like that.’
I shook my head again. Braced in the doorway, I leaned out of the swoopcopter and stared down at the rapidly shrinking array of lights from the Rila citadel. With unaided vision, I couldn’t see any of the figures in the stone garden any more, and I was too tired to crank up the neurachem. But even over the rapidly increasing space between us, I could still feel his stare, and the unforgiving rage kindled in it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
We picked up Boubin Islander exactly where she was supposed to be. Isa’s seamanship, via the trimaran’s pilot software, had been impeccable. Sierra Tres talked to the pilot, who seemed, on admittedly very brief acquaintance, to be a decent sort of guy. Given his status as a hostage, he’d shown little nervousness during the flight and once he said something to Sierra Tres that made her laugh out loud. Now he nodded laconically as she spoke into his ear, maxed up a couple of displays on his flight board and the swoopcopter fell away towards the yacht. I gestured for the spare comset again, and fitted it to my ear.
‘Still there, Aiura?’
Her voice came back, precise and terrifyingly polite. ‘I am still listening, Kovacs-san.’
‘Good. We’re about to set down. Your flyer here knows to back off rapidly, but just to underline the point, I want the sky clear in all directions—’
‘Kovacs-san, I do not have the authority to—’
‘Then get it. I don’t believe for a moment that Konrad Harlan can’t have the skies over the whole Millsport Archipelago emptied if he wants it, even if you can’t. So listen carefully. If I see a helicopter anywhere above our horizon for the next six hours, Mitzi Harlan is dead. If I see an airborne trace on our radar any time in the next six hours, Mitzi Harlan is dead. If I see any vessel at all following us, Mitzi Harlan—’
‘You’ve made your point, Kovacs.’ The courtesy in her voice was fast evaporating. ‘You will not be followed.’
‘Thank you.’
I tossed the comset back onto the seat next to the pilot. Outside the swoopcopter, the rushing air was murky. There hadn’t been an orbital discharge since we took off, and it looked from the lack of fireworks to the north as if the light show was winding down. Thick cloud was drawing in from the west, smothering the rising edge of Hotei. Higher up, Daikoku was thinly veiled and Marikanon gone altogether. It looked as if it might rain.
The Dracul made a tight circle over the trimaran, and I saw a white-faced Isa on deck, waving one of Brasil’s antique frag rifles unconvincingly. A smile touched the corners of my mouth at the sight. We backed off on the turn and dropped to sea level, then sideslipped in towards the Boubin Islander. I stood in the doorway and waved slowly. Isa’s taut features collapsed in relief and she lowered the frag gun. The pilot perched his craft on the corner of Boubin Islander’s deck and shouted to us over his shoulder.
‘End of the ride, people.’
We jumped down, eased Sylvie’s still semi-conscious form out after us and lowered her carefully to the deck. Maelstrom mist coated us like the cold breath of sea sprites. I leaned back into the swoopcopter.
‘Thanks. Very smooth. You’d better get out of here.’
He nodded and I stepped back. The Dracul ungrabbed and lifted away. The nose turned and in seconds it was a hundred metres off, rising into the night sky on a muted chatter. As the noise faded, I turned my attention back to the woman at my feet. Brasil was bent over her, peeling back an eyelid.
‘Doesn’t seem to be in too bad shape,’ he muttered as I knelt beside him. ‘She’s running a light fever, but her breathing’s okay. I’ve got gear below I can check her out with better.’
I put the back of my hand against her cheek. Under the film of spray from the maelstrom, it was hot and papery, the way it had been back in the Uncleared. And for all Brasil’s informed medical opinion, her breathing didn’t sound all that good to me either.
Yeah, well, this is a man who favours recreational virals over drugs. Guess light fever’s a relative term, eh Micky?
Micky? What happened to Kovacs?
Kovacs is back there, crawling up Aiura Harlan’s crack. That’s what happened to Kovacs.
The bright anger, glinting.
‘How about we get her below,’ suggested Sierra Tres.
‘Yeah,’ said Isa unkindly. ‘She looks like shit, man.’
I held down a sudden, irrational flare of dislike. ‘Isa, what’s the news from Koi’s end?’
‘Uh.’ She shrugged. ‘Last time I checked, fine, they were moving—’