'You must be Aleks,' a hardened voice said, snapping him from his thoughts. Aleks looked to see a short, stocky man holding out his hand.
'Yes, that's right,' he said, standing and shaking the offered hand. He was acutely aware that he hadn't shared his name with the receptionist, even though this man had just used it.
'I'm Banin,' Banin said, shedding his coat and throwing it over the desk. 'I understand you have some information for me.'
'Uh, yes — I do.' Aleks was quite taken aback by Banin's distinct disinterest in him. 'How do you know my name?'
'I've been looking for you.'
'So you know what they say about me?'
'I do.'
'It's not true, you know.'
'I know.'
Aleks couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. 'I'm sorry … what did you say?'
Banin gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, dismissing Aleks' crime as though it were a mere practical joke. 'I know it wasn't you. As soon as I got the call I had a gut feeling it wasn't you, but I've been thinking about it more, and now I'm certain. You've been set up. I've seen it happen before. You must have really pissed someone off.'
Aleks felt a distant glimmer of hope. 'How do you know that?'
'I've been in this business a long time,' Banin said, 'and I know better than anybody that sometimes the obviously guilty are innocent, and the obviously innocent are guilty. I took the liberty of making a few calls; I found out the person who put the price on your head works in the same department as someone whose DNA I'm trying to trace.'
'Okay,' Aleks said, not really following, but still grateful not to be cuffed and dragged away to the cells.
Banin sat down, then fished a notepad out of his pocket and unthreaded a pencil from its binder. He gestured for Aleks to sit with him. 'Please,' he said. 'So — what do you know?'
Aleks sat. 'I know that John Bales killed Lev Ryumin.'
Banin frowned. 'Bales … why do I know that name?'
He snapped his fingers. 'He's the one that called head office about you. He's the one that put the price on your head. I wonder … what does he look like?'
'White hair, broad shoulders —'
'The guy in the CCTV video.'
Aleks didn't follow. 'What video?'
'Doesn't matter. Let's just say that Ryumin was mixed up with some seriously top-level American government shit.'
'The US Department of Defence, you mean?'
Banin stopped writing notes and raised an eyebrow at Aleks. 'You know about that?'
'Yeah. Bales is a Major General.'
'Shiiiiit,' Banin muttered, throwing his pencil on the table. 'This gets better and better.'
'They're running a covert cover-up operation, and Ryumin got in the way. Knew too much. That's why they killed him.'
Banin was shaking his head. 'What kind of cover-up?'
It was at this point that Aleks was overcome by embarrassment at the ridiculousness of it all. He cleared his throat, readying his mouth to say the words his brain begged him not to.
'Aliens.'
* * *
Sally had been in love once before, or at least she thought she had. She had lied to Mikhail: it was she who had asked John Heisenberg on a date, and it was he who had turned her down. She had loved him from afar, and when she revealed her weakness for him he had brushed her aside as if she were nothing. The days and weeks afterwards were what she remembered the most. If she tried, she could just about remember what it had been like to love him before, when he was pure and untainted, but the feeling of having her soul torn in two stung her heart with vivid tenacity even now. It was a feeling she never wanted to replicate, a feeling even stronger than the one she'd felt at the passing of her parents. She could understand her grief when they died, and accepted it as part of a natural process. But she hadn't wanted to fall in love with John Heisenberg, and that made the heartache afterwards a confusing and agonising experience. Since then, men and women were merely colleagues, acquaintances. The door to her heart remained tight shut, her emotions sealed away from the weathering intensity of human contact. It had never been so much as ajar — until now.
She watched Mikhail through the open door of his quarters as he slept, as he twitched and frowned. He wasn't a handsome man, but he had a charm that warmed her, made her smile, and she couldn't help but bathe herself in it at every opportunity. Unwittingly, he had thrown the door to her heart wide open, leaving the inner workings bare and exposed, and with the tentative caution of a new-born foal, she relished it. Mikhail stirred, blinking himself awake, and when he saw Sally watching him, he grinned.
'You don't need to keep watch,' he said, levering himself from his quarters. 'I'll be fine.'
'I don't want you getting hurt,' Sally said. And she meant it. She still felt guilty for leaving him to suffer for as long as she did the first time.
'That's very kind of you.'
Sally drifted over to him. His dark eyes followed her.
'Can I get you any breakfast?' she asked. 'I can bring it to you here if you like — breakfast in bed.'
Mikhail laughed. 'Okay — that would be nice, thank you.'
Sally was close to him, daring herself to get closer, feeling every digit of each hand and foot tingling with his proximity. It was a new sensation, and it made her feel more alive than she'd ever felt before. He watched her as she watched him, and she ducked in quick, kissing him on the cheek. She had pulled away before he had time to react, her heart beating like a drum, skin fizzing with anticipation.
'See you in a minute,' she said, feeling her face flush with heat.
They shared breakfast together, eating and talking and laughing between mouthfuls of sticky porridge, and she told him the story of how she had come to be interested in science.
'After my mother died,' she began, sinking her thoughts back to her cloudy and muddled youth, 'I began to question life. What was life? What was the point of it? Why did we have to endure it, generation after generation?'
'Deep thoughts for a six-year-old.'
'Tell me about it. Anyway, I had come to the conclusion that a deity was just too far-fetched, left too many holes. I couldn't understand why a god would allow us to live just so that we might suffer for our entire existence before snuffing it.'
Mikhail nodded, watching her as she spoke.
'But I could see that we weren't the only ones suffering. I saw a documentary about the plains of Africa, and I remember struggling with the idea that the antelope seemed to exist solely for the lions to eat. I couldn't fathom why all the animals didn't just eat vegetables. Of course, back then I didn't realise that plants were just as much a living cellular structure as the things that ate them, but you can see my train of thought.
'And then it struck me — for every living thing, there's another, bigger, smarter and stronger than it. From the smallest plant to the biggest mammal, there was a distinct hierarchy that culminated with us humans.'
She nodded to herself, feeling that her pre-adolescent thoughts were as valid now as when they were free of the corruption of adulthood.
'I began to understand why people chose to believe in god,' she continued. 'With so much that we don't know, there must be something above us in the hierarchy — something we couldn't understand, just as the antelope doesn't understand why the lion eats it. That's when I decided that I wanted to find that being, trace the hierarchy to the next level, and it's what I've been searching for ever since.'
She looked at Mikhail sitting in front of her, hanging on her every word.
'And I think that's what I've found.'
Mikhail didn't say anything, looking down at his half-eaten porridge.
'You haven't finished?' Sally said. 'Are you okay?'
'I'm not really hungry.'
'How are you feeling?'
Mikhail looked at her, his face hollow, his eyes sad. 'I'm fine,' he said, but she knew he was lying.
Sally took his food pouch, set it aside and burrowed in under
his arm, and there they floated, not sharing so much as a word with each other for several long, blissful minutes.
'You're right, you know,' Mikhail said out of the blue.
Sally looked up at him from underneath his arm. 'About what?'
'About everything. Life, the universe — me.'
'I wish you could tell me all about it.'
'I wish I could too, but even if I think of it, it …' he trailed off, his last words sounding pained.
Sally wrapped her arm around his back and squeezed him. 'Don't think about it,' she said. 'Don't.'
'There will be someone one day who can, someone who can share the secrets of the universe with you.'
Sally smiled. 'I hope I get to meet them,' she said.
'I expect you will.'
Chapter 26
'Hello?' Sean yelled, his voice hoarse, but still no one came. He had seen shadows flit past the crack of light, but he wasn't sure if they were people or just plants moving in the wind. He was thirsty — very thirsty — and the stench of urine continued to shamefully remind him that he hadn't been able to hold on long enough. His wrists were raw from pulling against his bindings, but the pain was almost numb to him now. He was sure they were loosening; he would try again soon. He'd also discovered he could slide up the post into a standing-up position, but for the moment he sat as he yelled for help and tried to wriggle free. No matter what happened, he couldn't give up. He wouldn't give up.
'Hello?' he yelled again.
* * *
Banin drummed the desk with his fingers, shaking his head. 'Aliens?'
'I know it seems far-fetched,' Aleks said, sensing the tangible incredulity in Banin's tone, 'but it's true, I swear it.'
'Aliens?' Banin repeated.
'Okay, forget the aliens —'
'Forget the aliens?'
'Forget the aliens. There's something in space that Bales is trying to destroy, and he won't stop at anything to do it.'
'Uh huh. And what's that got to do with me?'
'He's wiping out anyone that stands in his way.'
Aleks searched Banin's face for any sign that he was getting through to him, but he wasn't sure. 'And that includes Lev Ryumin. But worse, I think Bales is going to do it again.'
'To who?'
'A journalist called Sean Jacob.'
Banin sighed a long, drawn out sigh, and held his hands up in defeat. 'It sounds like I've barely scratched the surface of this crazy picture,' he said, 'but I've got a case to solve and you're the only clue left.'
A little prickle of flame leaped in Aleks' chest. 'So what now?' he asked.
'We find Bales.'
Before Aleks could ask, But how do we do that?, Banin was on the phone.
'Hi, can you get a twenty-four hour ANPR scan of all government vehicles — foreign included — and let me know the results, please? Thanks.'
He hung up.
'We have a list of all the diplomatic vehicles and their registrations,' he explained to Aleks. 'Run that through our number plate recognition cameras around the city and we can get a rough idea of where those vehicles are and where they're going. It's not fool-proof, but it's a start.'
The phone rang.
'Banin. Uh huh. Okay. Yep. Thanks.'
'That was quick,' Alex said after Banin hung up.
'It's all digital now,' Banin replied, waking his computer with a wiggle of the mouse. 'I'll print it off.'
He went to fetch the printouts, holding a thick wad of paper on his return. Each page had a map with circles on it, some numbered and some greyed out, and underneath each map was a list of information.
'Here,' said Banin, handing Aleks half the wad and a pen. 'Each page is a different vehicle, and each circle is a camera. The numbered circles correspond with an ANPR trigger, and the time of the trigger is listed below. The greyed out circles are cameras that haven’t been triggered. Trace the route on each map and make a note of any extended stops, plus the time the vehicle passed its last camera. This is a week's worth of data, so look out for suspicious vehicle behaviour — frequent journeys out of town, spending a long time in a single location, that sort of thing.'
Aleks did as he was told. Most of the vehicles didn't seem to have moved at all in the last week. Some had been out into central Moscow and back a few times. All fairly normal. Others had left Moscow completely, and a few of those had not yet returned. That last set of vehicles was the one Aleks piled up separately. By the time they were finished, that pile contained seven vehicles.
'Right then,' said Banin, leafing through the sheets. 'This one is a prison van, so I doubt it's going to be that … this is the Mayor's car — I doubt he has anything to do with this …'
He continued to read through the sheets, stopping at the last. 'Hmm …' he said, brow wrinkled in thought.
'What?' said Aleks, leaning over the desk to see.
'This is an imported US vehicle, and it seems to have passed one ANPR camera along the highway south out of Moscow, but not the next one a mile later. It must have pulled off at these warehouses and stopped. That was half-an-hour ago.'
'That could be him.'
Banin nodded, still looking over the print out. 'I think you might be right.'
'Shall we go check it out?'
'Whoa there—since when did you become the partner I never wanted?'
'It's either that or you arrest me, because if you leave me here I'm straight out the door. You'll never see me again.'
Folding the paper and putting it in his pocket, Banin grumbled to himself as he eyeballed Aleks.
'Fine,' he said at last. He stood, grabbed his jacket, and beckoned Aleks to follow. As they walked back down the stairs, Banin adjusted his pistol holster, stopping at a landing halfway down a floor.
'Let me tell you something before we step outside into the free world,' he said. 'You're under my supervision and, like you so eloquently put, you should be in bracelets, so if you even think of making a run for it I'll shoot you deader than dead.'
Banin may have been shorter than Aleks, but that didn't make him any less frightening.
'Understood,' Aleks said, holding his hands up in submission. 'After all, I came here to you in the first place, didn't I?'
'Yes. I suppose you did. But that doesn't change anything.'
Banin started down the stairs again, then stopped, turning back to Aleks, finger pointing. 'And if I find out this story is a bunch of bull, I'll shoot you dead for that, too.'
Aleks swallowed and nodded. 'Sure …'
'Good. Let's go.'
They climbed into Banin's rusted car and set off at breakneck pace. It seemed that Banin knew his way around a steering wheel like he did the backstreets of Moscow. The back tyres squealed as Banin hurled the car around another tight corner, dodging a lorry coming the other way that honked at him. Banin gave his hidden lights and siren a short blast and the lorry stopped its honking.
'Idiot …' Banin muttered.
Aleks stayed quiet, thinking it best not to correct Banin on his understanding of right of way. They peeled away from the city and onto the freeway, which shot bullet-straight due south and into the countryside. Bridges whipped overhead, Banin pushing the old car far beyond any kind of comfortable — or legal — limit, blasting his siren at any car dawdling in front. Aside from the roar of the wind and engine, the journey was a silent one, Aleks quite happy not to distract Banin from his frightening speed. As late morning became early afternoon and the clouds rolled in, Banin took an exit off the highway that turned into a overgrown, bumpy track.
'This seems pretty secluded,' he said, and Aleks silently agreed with his observation.
Ahead, a pack of dilapidated warehouses came into view, the corrugated sheet walls flaking with rust. A large sign hung over the road, peeling to the point of near-indecipherability. It seemed to indicate the warehouses were once home to a car assembly plant.
'I'll park up here and we'll walk in,' Banin said, pulling up behind a small shed. He turned the c
ar so it was facing the exit and killed the engine. When they got out, Aleks noticed how quiet the place was — eerie even. The rush of the motorway they had left not a few minutes ago was made silent by the crest of the hill between them and it. Rusted shells, stacked up on top of one another, were dotted about the open space, memorials of a dead industry. Grass sprouted from between bricks and through concrete, the consuming power of nature swallowing this abandoned place up whole.
Following Banin, Aleks crept towards the first warehouse. As they approached it, they saw a black SUV parked up around the corner of what looked to be an old paint shed. Banin nodded at the SUV, drew his pistol, and they moved on. The warehouse door was ajar and, indicating to Aleks to stay outside, Banin slipped into the shadow. Aleks waited several long moments before he returned, shaking his head.
'No one's here.'
They continued their sombre tour of the car graveyard, Banin checking every warehouse, each time coming back empty-handed, until they reached a chain-link fence at the far perimeter. Banin holstered his pistol, looking out at the hilly fields beyond.
'This place is deserted,' he said. 'They must have been here at some point, but they sure as shit aren't here now.'
'Why did they leave the car here?'
Banin shrugged. 'Probably to throw us off the trail.' He turned his back to the fields. 'We should go. We don't have a warrant to be here.'
Aleks wanted to stay, to look some more, but deep down he knew there was no point. There really was no one here. Dejected, he turned to follow Banin, who had already begun his retreat, when something caught his eye. 'Banin, wait — what's this?'
Banin turned to look at what Aleks was pointing at: a part of the chain-link fence was missing. The shrouding shadow of the trees either side made it hard to see, but as they approached, it was obvious it had been cut. Banin, frowning, stooped down and ran his fingers through the dirt.
Vessel Page 24
