'I used to work for Nigel Sheldon, Oscar said. 'I even met him a couple of times when Wilson and I were building up the Navy. He'd be horrified about this modern ideology that's hijacked his name.
'And the relevance is? an exasperated Tomansio asked.
Oscar gave him an apologetic shrug. 'Sorry. Just thinking.
'Is she seeing anyone special? Tomansio asked Liatris.
'Not that I've found yet. I'm running traffic analysis on her capsule, but it's got to be slow and discreet, there are another three similar investigations that I spotted, and that's in addition to Living Dream, which is now officially interested in her. But the local police have found her trike. It was parked at the Tala mall yesterday afternoon. Her last confirmed sighting. Major Honilar has ordered the records from every city sensor to be shoved through visual recognition filters to work out where she went. That should keep them busy for the rest of the day.
'Thanks, Liatris.
'She has to be able to tell us something, Beckia said. 'She had to be badly frightened to vanish like this. I guess that's what Major Honilar does to people.
'Agreed.
Oscar grinned at the two of them. Beckia had said it without even realising, but then it would take someone with his background to make that particular connection. If anyone in the Commonwealth knew all about vanishing, and staying vanished, it was Oscar Monroe. Which just left motivation…
Tomansio caught the grin and frowned. 'What?
'Don't you get it? Oscar was delighted with himself. Well, how about that, the old relic has still got it.
'Get what? Beckia asked.
'I spent decades living a lie, hiding my actual self from everyone I knew and loved and worked with. It's actually a lot easier than you'd think. So I guess it takes one to know one.
Tomansio's square jaw dropped. 'Oh great Ozzie… you think?
'I think it's highly likely.
Beckia hunched forwards, giving Oscar an astonished look. She's the Second Dreamer?
'Give me a better candidate.
'Bloody hell.
'It won't take Honilar long to work it out.
'And when he does, she'll be in deep shit, Tomansio said urgently. 'No local girl will able to stay ahead of the welcome team.
'She's done pretty well so far, Oscar protested.
'You can only get so far on luck, and she's used up her quota. We need to supply some help. Liatris, start laying a false data trail for the good major.
'Give me ten minutes, I'll have him running all over town.
'She was there, wasn't she? Beckia said with growing admiration. 'Somehow. In the apartment when we were looking.
'Unless she spent last month digging a tunnel, yes, Oscar said.
Tomansio gave him a certain look. 'It's still cordoned off.
'Let's go.
Their borrowed capsule was parked on the pad outside. Oscar raced past the waitress, feeling only mildly guilty for not leaving a tip.
It took Araminta two cups of tea and half the packet of biscuits to work up enough nerve to shove the crate to one side and open the door a fraction. There was no one in the vestibule. No sound from anywhere inside the building as far as she could tell. Outside, it was different. The angry shouting was loud. There were thuds as lumps of stone and concrete landed around the paramilitary troops; glass was being smashed constantly. The distinct humming of capsules ebbed and flowed. She strapped on her tool belt, shrugged into a thick fleece jacket to cover it, and headed for the stairwell.
The cordon included a shield reinforcing the broad garage door, which buzzed as if a high voltage current was running through it. In the dim lighting which pervaded the ramp, Araminta could just see a dull sparkle shimmering off the door's surface. There was no way she could get out, it would take a good quantity of enhanced explosives to break through. She turned and headed to the other side of the garage which contained the utilities support area. It was dark inside the first room. Still reluctant to use any power, she fished a torch out of her belt, and walked between two rows of big tanks. At the far end was a smaller door into the waste handling room. She'd only been in here a couple of times before, to make sure the interface with her new units was compatible.
Bulky, quite primitive-looking, machinery filled most of the space; big metal spheres with lots of piping snaking about between them. Araminta wiggled between a couple of water sanitizer cisterns. Behind them, the side wall was a sheer surface of reinforced enzyme-bonded concrete. Just above her head was a rectangular hole where six feed pipes went outside to connect with the main civic water supply. The gap between the top of the pipes and the edge of the concrete was about half a metre. She clambered up one of the sanitizer cisterns, wincing every time she gripped a hot pipe by mistake. That put her level with the hole. A metal grid covered the far end. Grass and soil was pressed up against it.
Gritting her teeth in determination, she dropped her thick fleece and wormed her head and shoulders into the hole. She still had to stretch to apply the power socket against the grille's locking bolts. They were stiff from disuse, and she was scared of making too much noise with the power socket; but after several minutes cursing and blinking sweat from her eyes, the grille came loose. Then it took another five minutes pushing and shoving before the grass and soil gave way. The tool belt had to be discarded before she could claw her way through the uncomfortably claustrophobic gap.
Araminta crawled out onto the narrow strip of grass between the apartment wall and the wooden fence. Blouse torn on snags, skin scratched and bleeding, trouser knees muddy, hair a tangled mess, hot, flushed, and sweaty. She glared back at the little hole. I can't have put on that much weight!
The noise of the crowd was a lot louder. Amplified voices were constantly warning them to back off. A capsule slid over the band of sky above her. She quickly pulled her tool belt out of the hole, and started using the screwdriver on the fence boards. With three of them unfastened she could slip through the triangular opening and into an almost identical strip of ground on the other side. The neighbouring building was a combination of retail and office units; half of which were unoccupied and available for a low rent. She crept along the side of the building to the waste casket bay at the back. The gates beyond opened on to a thin alley of badly cracked concrete. Someone had left an old jacket on the ledge running along the bay. She pulled it on over her torn blouse, and slung the tool belt over her shoulder. Then taking a breath she sauntered out into the alley.
Two of Ellezelin's armour-suited paramilitaries were standing on cordon duty outside the back gate to the apartment block. Araminta ignored them, and walked off down the alley. Every second she expected a challenge, but it never came. After twenty metres she made a sharp left turn down another alley, taking her out of their view. Then she just kept walking.
After for ever he strode through a white jungle. Trees of translucent crystal towered above him, refracting a soft shimmer of pure sunlight, sprouting long white leaves. The undergrowth was thick, creepers and bushes mangled into dense tangles of silver hues that were impossible to push through. White clouds scudded overhead. A cloying mist wove long swirling streamers round the shiny tree trunks, reducing visibility. White birds darted about, triangles of feathers fluttering fast. White rodents scampered round his booted feet. His boots were clotted with white mud from the steaming loam.
'I know it's difficult, said the voice behind the trees. 'But you have to choose.
He longed for colour. Darkness, even. But all the jungle offered was faint shadows. Shapes were starting to blur together. Losing cohesion. The blazing universe was absorbing him. When he lifted up his hands they were hard to see. White on white. Just looking at them was dizzying.