Largo’s stomach tightened. “What kind of experiments?”
“I don’t know, but he and Venohr have been experimenting with hybrids. Humans and Maras. Humans and chimeras.”
He remembered Una’s play about the mad scientist creating a human-automaton lover, and Remy talking about getting a vitamin shot—one that had her memorizing her scripts faster. And Venohr had known about it. “Hanna said that Venohr has a private laboratory in Schöne Maschinen. If Remy is alive, she could be there.”
Margit looked at the other people in the roundhouse, then back to Largo. “It’s possible. But we have to get inside to find out.”
“I’ll take you there,” said Largo. “But under one condition.”
Her face became hard. “What kind?”
“I want to go inside with you.”
She relaxed again. “All right, but understand, we won’t leave an inch of the place standing.”
Largo looked around. “You’re not going to bring down Schöne Maschinen with those few guns over there.”
She nodded. “I know. We’ll use this.” She went to a table and brought back what looked like a rectangle of yellow clay the size of a bar of soap.
“What’s that?” said Largo.
“Amatol,” Margit said. “It’s an explosive from the war.” She took the clay bar back and said, “See? We’ve come a long way since the day you got ink on your fingers.”
He remembered letting Branca get away with the leaflet and the guilt he felt earlier came back. “I’ll help you get in, but you have to let me get Remy out before you destroy the factory.”
She glanced at the floor and said, “I can’t guarantee that. We’ll wait as long as we can, but when the explosions start there’s no stopping them.”
“When do you want to do it?” Largo said.
“Tonight, if possible.”
Largo peered at the group. There were a lot of them. They had guns and a large pile of the yellow bars. They might actually be able to accomplish something. He said, “I know how to get you there. But you have to get Parvulesco and Roland first.”
Margit thought for a minute. “If the police took them in as radicals they’ll be in the same jail you gave us the directions to the other night.”
“Good. Once you have them, call me.” Largo found some paper and a pencil on a nearby table. He scrawled something and handed it to Margit. “Here’s the Trefle number where I’m staying.”
Margit folded the paper and put it in her pocket. “What if we can’t get them? Will you still help us?”
He stared at her. “You worked hard to get your own people out of jail. Get mine and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
She walked Largo to the door and said, “We’ll call you as soon as we have them.”
As he crouched to get under the chain, Largo said, “Thank you.”
He put on the mask and rode back to Granate. He’d hoped to take the time alone to think things through clearly, but his mind was spinning. Was Remy real or not? Who should he believe, Branca or Margit?
Either of them would say anything to get what they want. But if there’s still a chance of saving Remy, I have to take it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
HE HAD SOME SOUP AND WINE WITH ANITA WHILE HE WAITED. LATER, SHE read a book of ghost stories she’d found in one of the bedrooms. Largo tried reading a children’s book about the history of chimeras, but he couldn’t concentrate. A few minutes after two in the morning the Trefle buzzed. Anita answered and handed it to Largo.
“Hello?” he said.
The line crackled. “We have them.” It was Margit.
“Let me talk to Parvulesco.”
A moment later he heard a familiar voice. “Largo? Is that you? Margit told us you arranged this.”
“Are you and Roland all right?”
“Roland fought back, so he got it worse than I did, but we’ll both live.”
Largo cursed under his breath, then said, “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“I’m glad you got away,” said Parvulesco. “Otherwise, we might have been in there forever.”
“Are you somewhere safe?”
“We’re with Margit by the Black Palace.”
Largo said, “Stay there and tell Roland I’m sorry too. If it’s any consolation, those bullocks won’t be bothering anybody again.”
“How do you know?”
“I killed them.”
He heard Parvulesco gasp. “What?”
“Put Margit back on the line.”
A moment later he heard “Well?”
“Thank you for saving them.”
“You’re welcome. Now how do we get into Schöne Maschinen?”
“I’ll take you there myself. Where should we meet?”
“The Great Triumphal Square,” said Margit.
“When?.”
“At three A.M. sharp.”
“I’ll see you there.”
At three A.M., Largo leaned against the railing by the underground tram station pretending to drink whiskey through a straw the way he remembered Rainer doing it. The all-night cafés and restaurants were doing a brisk business. People went in and out of the underground station. The new Maras stood on each corner. Largo walked by them and listened. In kind, clear voices they gave travelers directions and answered questions about the state of the war in the north. “We’re winning on all fronts” was always their reply.
When he saw Margit, Largo went back to the tram station. She made a face when she saw him. “Are you drinking?”
“No, but I have to look like I’m doing something,” he said. “There are more of the new Maras than before.”
“Yes. They’re dangerous, but it’s easy to distract them. Some of our people will stay behind and talk to them while we leave. Give me some.”
“It’s okay for you to drink?”
“We might all die tonight. I deserve a fucking drink.”
Largo passed the bottle to Margit. She removed the straw and took a sip.
“How long before all your people arrive?”
“They’re here already.”
Largo looked around. The crowd in the square looked the way it did on any other night. He said, “Tell them to go through the passage between the church and the bank. They’ll come out on Schimpfte strasse. Across the street and to the left is a market bazaar. It’s dark at this hour, so no one will see us. We can move from there to the power station.”
Margit walked away and seemed to ask an elderly man the time. When she came back, the old man moved off into the crowd.
“Berthold will pass the word. Let’s go.”
Largo and Margit went through the passage to the bazaar arm in arm. The bazaar was an open-air mall closed on three sides. It was very quiet once they were away from the street.
While they waited, Largo looked at Margit. He said, “Are you supposed to shoot me before I get you into Schöne Maschinen or after?”
She squinted at him. “Neither. We’re not the bullocks or the Nachtvogel. We’re trying to stop that sort of thing, not perpetuate it.”
Three women and a man soon arrived.
“Are all of your people so broadminded?” said Largo.
“I’ll take care of them,” said Margit. “You just do your job.”
Largo threw the whiskey into a trash barrel and took off the mask. “I don’t suppose I’ll be needing that tonight.”
As more people arrived, Margit said, “Assuming we live, what will you do tomorrow? Or have you thought that far ahead?”
Largo checked his watch. The more time passed, the more nervous he became. “If you’re going to tell me to join your group you’re too late. Someone already gave me that speech and she was better at it than you.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing matters until Remy is safe.”
Slowly, more people arrived.
“You’ll have to leave the city.”
“I know. Chances are you will too, d
on’t you think?”
“I hope not, but I might,” Margit said.
“Don’t go north. I’ve been there.”
“You?” she said incredulously. “You’ve been to High Proszawa? No wonder you’re so bent.”
“You know about it, then?”
“We have contacts there, too. Despite what you might have seen, it’s not all chaos.”
“Have you been there yourself?”
“No.”
“Until you have, don’t tell me about it,” Largo said.
People streamed into the bazaar steadily now. They stood in small groups, all staring at Largo and Margit.
“There are places to hide up north,” she said.
“When Remy and I leave it will be to somewhere far away.”
“Then you’re still a coward and wastrel.”
He looked at her. “I’m told people can help from other places than Lower Proszawa.”
She made a face. “Don’t tell me that’s your plan.”
Largo looked right back at her. “Isn’t that your plan if you fuck off north to play in the mud with your friends?”
“There’s plenty more than mud up there.”
Largo noticed people checking their weapons. He took out his pistol and nervously looked at the magazine again. It was full.
Margit said, “You actually look like you know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve only ever changed the magazine once.”
She turned to the group. “Don’t tell any of the others.”
Largo put the pistol away. “If the people I know can get travel papers for Remy and me I’ll owe them, so I’ll have to do something to repay them.”
“Your enthusiasm is inspiring.”
A few more stragglers entered the bazaar. It was filling up.
Largo said, “If Remy is inside and Hellswarth has done something to her, I might kill him before you do. Branca is dead, by the way.”
Margit bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet. “You did that?”
“It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”
“Just be careful where you point that gun tonight.” When the last people arrived, Margit motioned them over.
“I’ve been in the munitions building, but not the others,” said Largo. “Which is the eugenic one?”
“Building one. The laboratories are on the second and third floors.”
“All right.”
When the group surrounded them, Margit said, “I think we’re ready. Where do we go now?”
“This way,” Largo said. “And be quiet. There’s no one around, but it’s very dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
They moved in small groups through unlit alleys and behind warehouses well off the main streets. Eventually, they came to one of the neighborhoods that had been hit by bombs during the war. There was a high brick wall with an iron gate blocking the way in. Signs warning of unexploded bombs were plastered all over the walls. There was a cold gust of rain and a mist began to fall.
“Are those signs real?” said the tall woman in the balaclava.
Largo said, “Yes. And we have to get moving before the ground turns to mud.”
“Fuck,” she said. “Why is this even here?”
Largo pointed to the ruin. “The government left it. It’s like a minefield to keep people like us from the power plant.”
“But you know the way,” said Margit.
“Of course,” said Largo. “Now come on. We have to hurry.”
“The gate is locked,” said tall woman. “How do we get inside?”
Largo leaned into the gate with his shoulder. It slid open. He turned to the others and said, “The lock has been broken for years.”
They passed through an old neighborhood that at one time had been as elegant as Kromium. Now whole sections of the streets had collapsed into bomb craters and the buildings were falling in on themselves. Margit was by Largo’s shoulder. He said, “Pretty much all of High Proszawa looks like this, only sunk in mud and bones.”
“Then you weren’t in the right parts. Some are intact. The ones built underground.”
“You mean the steelworker area,” Largo said.
Margit’s head spun in his direction. “You’ve seen it?”
“I saw them. It looked like they were getting ready to start their own war.”
She shook her head. “They’re a defense force to hold off any army that attacks from High or Lower Proszawa.”
“Who’s in charge? They had a lot of government equipment.”
“It’s all salvaged from the wreckage.”
“Is that where you’ll go after this?”
Margit shrugged. “I might. As I said, I don’t want to leave the city.”
Largo nodded. “Good. Stay here no matter what.”
“I might not have a choice.”
“Then I feel sorry for you.”
At the end of a long boulevard they came to a thirty-foot-high brick wall. The mist turned to rain.
Largo said, “It’s taller than it was before. They must have reinforced it.”
“Wonderful,” said the woman.
“How do we get through it?” said Margit.
“Don’t worry,” said Largo. “We were never going to climb it. I’m just worried that if they used heavy equipment they might have shifted things in the bomb field.”
“Bomb field?” the tall woman said. “Margit, he’s leading us into a trap.”
Largo said, “Don’t worry. I know the way.”
Margit held on to the tall woman’s sleeve. “Mia, we’ve come too far to turn back now.”
“Fuck.”
Largo pointed. “There’s a metal fence at the other end. It was down, but they might have repaired it. You have tools for that, right?”
“Of course,” said Margit.
They turned right along the wall and came to an open field of dirt, craters, and bomb casings protruding from the ground at crazy angles.
Largo said, “Let me go into the field first, then have people follow one by one, stepping in the footprints of the person before them.”
“I’ll go next,” said Margit.
“Don’t worry. I won’t run away. You can’t run here.”
Margit turned to Mia. “Pass the word down the line.”
“Right,” she said, and moved off.
“While she does that, I’m going to get started,” said Largo. “Let me get at least twenty paces ahead before you follow.”
“Why?” said Margit.
He looked into the minefield. “Because if I’m wrong and a bomb goes off you might live.”
Margit followed his gaze. “You’re sure this is the only way to the power station?”
“If you don’t want to be seen.”
She nodded. “All right. Go.”
Largo laid his arms across his chest so there was less chance of touching anything. The stitches in his shoulder felt tight. He walked slowly, counting his steps, not thinking except to chart the turns and straightaways with numbers. The ground under his feet began to soften as the rain fell. He thought, On the one hand, people will be able to see my footprints better. On the other hand, there will be more chances to slip. He wanted to tell them to be extremely careful, but there was no point in that. It’s better to get through quickly before the ground gets any softer.
At one point, his right shoulder brushed a tail fin. That’s new. He adjusted his step a few inches to the left. The roofs and outside stairways on some of the buildings were newly collapsed. Damn it. They probably did use machinery on the wall. I hope Margit and the others have a light step.
A few more minutes and he was through. He looked back and saw Margit following him just a few steps behind. When she was close, Largo reached out and pulled her from the field. He said, “I told you to wait.”
“I couldn’t. Waiting for you to blow up was driving me crazy.”
He looked back to the trai
l. “There are a couple of places where the bombs have shifted. I tried to adjust my step, but no one better rush.”
Margit wiped rain from her face. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“Who has the tools to get us through the wire fence?”
“Dieter. He’ll be along soon.”
“We should go through as soon as possible so we don’t bunch up here.”
“You’re right.”
“And in case some of the others don’t make it,” he added.
“Yes.”
Mia came through next. Dieter, a plump young blond man with freckles, arrived after another minute. Margit immediately sent him to work on the fence with bolt cutters.
When it was open, the four of them crept through to the other side and waited. Twenty people arrived. Thirty. People smoked and talked quietly. Then the ground shook and the sky lit up like a bloody dawn as something exploded. A second explosion knocked them to the ground. A third explosion quickly followed, then everything went quiet. Everyone got to their feet.
Largo went to Margit. “We have to keep going. They’ll have heard the explosions all over the city.”
Margit craned her neck for a better look. “I can see the factory on the other side of those buildings. Can we get to the plant without being seen?”
Largo shook his head. “There are plazma tanks that will block the view most of the way, but there’s a small open field at the end.”
Margit took a few steps. “Let’s go before someone comes to investigate.”
Mia said, “This might be a blessing. The explosion could be a distraction.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Margit.
When they reached the edge of the field, Largo said, “Do you have enough people left to destroy the factory?”
Margit adjusted her coat. “I don’t know. We have guns and plenty of amatol. We have to try.”
“Listen to me first. Once we’re inside, there’s no way out anymore except through the front gate.”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
“I hope you’re ready. There are a lot of guards ahead.”
“Will the guards see us coming?”
Margit checked her watch. “We made it just in time for the shift change. With luck they’ll be too distracted by the explosions.”
“Let’s fucking go,” Mia said.
The Grand Dark Page 41
