‘Or just misunderstanding the concept of soldier.’ He brooded on the outline of the Marin headland against the sky, watched the neat, corpuscular flow of red dotted lights funnelling off the bridge and into a fold in the darkened hills. ‘Anyway, speaking of soldiering, if Harbin put you together, gave you the genes and the ninjutsu, I’ve got to assume that means you belong to Department Two.’
He thought she maybe shivered a little. ‘Not any more.’
‘Care to explain that?’
‘Hey, you asked who I was. No one said anything about a full fucking résumé.’
He found he was smiling in the gloom. ‘Just sketch it out for me. Bare bones, enough to convince. One thing I don’t intend to be is a cat’s paw for the Chinese security services.’
‘You’re starting to piss me off, Marsalis. I told you I don’t do that shit any more.’
‘Yeah, but I’m a naturally untrusting motherfucker. You want me to murder your boss for you? Indulge my curiosity.’
He heard her breath hiss out between her teeth.
‘Late ninety-six, I worked undercover to crack a Triad sex-slave operation in Hong Kong. When we finally hit them, it got bloody. Department Two aren’t overly concerned about innocent bystanders.’
‘Yeah, I heard that about them.’
‘Yeah, well I took the opportunity of all that blood and screaming to step out quietly. Disappeared in the crossfire, crossed the line. Used the contacts I’d made to hook a passage to Kuala Lumpur, and then points south.’ An odd weariness crept into her voice. ‘I was an enforcer in Jakarta for a while, played in the turf wars they had going against the yakuza, built myself an Indonesia-wide rep. Headed south again. Sydney and then Auckland. Corporate clients. Eventually the Rim States, because that’s where the real money is. And here we are. That sort out your curiosity for you?’
He nodded, surprised once again by the twinge of kinship he felt. ‘Yeah, that’ll do for the CV. But I do have one more question, general point of information you could clear up for me.’
Weary sigh. ‘And that is?’
‘Why bother with me? You’re lethal as shit, well-connected too. Staying one step ahead of RimSec and making it look easy. Why not go in and take this faithless fuck out for yourself? Not like you don’t know where he is, right?’
She was silent for a while.
‘It’s a simple question, Ren.’
‘I think I’ve told you enough. In the end, you’re a UNGLA bounty hunter. You take me down, it puts food on your table.’
‘I already know what you are,’ he said roughly. ‘You see me reaching for a Haag gun?’
Voice not quite even on those last two words. Her head tilted, as if she maybe caught the tremor. She examined the blade of her hand again.
‘You’ve made a career of betraying your own kind. No reason why you’d stop now, is there?’
‘Ren, let me tell you something. I’m not even sure I still have my licence.’ Memories of di Palma flitted through his head, the prissy bureaucratic superiority of the Agency. ‘And even if I do, first thing I plan on doing when I get back is turn it in.’
‘Change of heart, huh?’ It wasn’t quite a sneer.
‘Something like that. Now answer the question. Why me?’
More quiet. He noticed the chill in the air for the first time. His eyes kept sliding back to the Marin hills, the disappearing stream of traffic headed north. As if there was something there waiting for him. Ren seemed to be making calculations in her head.
‘Two reasons,’ she said, finally. ‘First, he’s likely to be expecting me. You, he’s got no reason to watch for.’
‘If I were standing where you are, that kind of risk wouldn’t be enough for me to hand things over to a proxy.’
‘I know. But you’re a male thirteen. I’m a little smarter than that. For me it’s enough to know that it’ll get done. I don’t have to be there and smell the blood.’
‘Maybe I’m smarter than you think. Maybe I just won’t do it.’
He saw her smile. ‘Well, we’ll see.’
‘You said two reasons.’
‘That’s right.’ Now she was the one looking out across the water. Her voice tinged with something that might have been embarrassment, might have been pride. ‘It seems I’m pregnant.’
The silence seemed to rush them, like dark fog coming in off the bay. The noises of the city, already faint, receded to the edge of perception. Carl placed his hands flat on the stonework of the wall, peered down at them in the gloom.
‘Congratulations.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘Is it Merrin’s? Or machete boy’s?’
‘I don’t know, and I don’t much care. And nor will your Agency friends. It’s enough that the mother’s a certified thirteen, without worrying about the father as well. They’ll send everything they’ve got after me. I need to be leaving, Marsalis. Bowing out and heading somewhere safe.’
‘Right.’ He folded his arms against the chill, turned to face her. ‘On the other hand, you do have one major advantage over the Agency.’
‘Which is.’
‘They don’t even know you exist.’
And somewhere in his head, Sevgi Ertekin’s voice.
Baba, he’s a good man. He’s clean.
Carmen Ren regarded him narrowly. ‘That’s right. Right now, they don’t know I exist.’
Carl looked away across the bay again. Something was aching in his throat. Sevgi, Névant, all the others. His whole life seemed to pulse with grief.
‘They aren’t going to hear it from me,’ he said.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
It felt strange, walking into the Human Cost Foundation’s offices for real. Memories of the v-format clashed with the actual architecture of the reception space and the corridors leading off it. There was no Sharleen sitting there, no one in the waiting area at all, and the walls were a paler, colder blue than he recalled. The artwork he remembered wasn’t there, and the prints and Earth First shout-out posters that had replaced it seemed grubby and tired. Jeff, when he came out to greet them, looked similarly worn.
‘In the flesh,’ he said, hugging Norton briefly at the shoulders. ‘Nice surprise.’
Norton hugged back. ‘Yeah, strictly business, I’m afraid. Come to pick your professional brains again. This is Carl Marsalis. Marsalis, my brother Jeff.’
Jeff shook the thirteen’s hand without a blink. ‘Of course. Should have recognised you from the feed photos. Do you want to come through?’
They took a different corridor to the one Norton remembered from the virtual offices, and of course it didn’t blur out the way it had in the format. They passed doors with cheaply lettered plastic signs that hinted at the foundation’s daily round: trauma counselling, coastguard liaison, harassment response, funding… Through one open office door, Norton glimpsed a stout Asian woman looking sleepily into the middle distance and drinking from a styrofoam coffee cup. She half-raised a hand as they passed, but said nothing. Otherwise, the place seemed to be deserted.
‘Quiet this morning,’ Marsalis said.
Jeff glanced back across his shoulder. ‘Yeah, well it’s early yet. We’ve just ridden out a major funding crisis, so I sent everyone home with instructions to celebrate and come in late. In here.’
He let them into the office marked with the simple word directorate, closed the door carefully behind them. Changes from the virtual here too, the décor was a higher powered blend of reds and greys, the sofa was the same but it had been turned so its back was to the window and there was space to walk around behind it, a low coffee table in front. Ornaments had moved around, been replaced. The photo of Megan was gone from the desk, there was a smaller one of the kids instead. Jeff gestured at the sofa.