by Richard Dee
I had packing to do, a companion to pick and brief. My car was still at the Rock, I needed to get it back, say goodbye to Gaynor and work out what we were going to once we got to Dalyster.
Chapter Fourteen
Dalyster
Dalyster City spaceport had a sleazy, grubby ambience, an overpowering feeling of corruption. The arrivals hall was filled with huge portraits of the leaders, including the Delegate, and various senior military figures, all male. There were posters advertising tractor production and slogans exhorting workers to produce for the glorious motherland. It had the feel of all the best police states. The border police uniforms were over-elaborate and scruffy at the same time, weighed down with braid and rows of medal ribbons. The men had a sloppy demeanour and an air of bribability. Everyone not in uniform either looked like a gangster or just hungry. There were no women in positions of authority, they were cleaners or accompanying men, walking two paces behind them. Gaynor would have hated it, I was relieved she wasn’t here; she would have stuck out like a sore thumb.
I’d heard of places like this, they were normally one-horse planets out on the edge of civilisation. I’d never expected to see one so close to the capital. There was little reason to stop us; our camera gear was subjected to an import tax, at least that was what they called it, money changed hands, but no receipt was given.
Brian was the lucky man to come with me, I had told him that it was all a bit circumstantial, we had no definite proof that Layla was inside, just the suggestion that she might be. To my surprise, he was still keen to go. We hadn’t really discussed how we would approach the job on the flight out, Brian had suffered from space sickness and was laid low for most of the journey, although I had managed to give him the background to our trip; told him what went on in the club, between his bouts of vomiting. He was initially shocked, then distressed, no doubt thinking of his daughters. “I’ve never been off-world before,” he explained. “I thought it would be an adventure, how was I to know my middle ears wouldn’t want to play? It’s embarrassing. But I’ll stick with it, those poor kids, they need help.”
“Don’t worry about the sickness,” I reassured him. “Some people just freak at the lack of anything around you, or even nearby. It’s different to flying in atmosphere. At least you know that there’s ground under you, atmosphere around you. Out in space, well… you could be upside down for all you know. There’s only up or down because of the artificial gravity. You know that you’re millions of miles from anything, and it only takes one of a thousand things to go wrong. If you’re not killed instantly, there’s no chance of rescue.”
“I can’t see the difference,” he said. “flying is flying, wherever you are. I mean, if your plane falls out of the sky over Centra, you’re no less dead than you would be in space.”
I could see his point. “That’s true, but on Centra, you can see the ground, clouds. You somehow know where you are.”
He nodded. “I suppose. I’ve got it all to look forward to on the way back. At least I’m OK now we’ve landed.”
We took adjoining rooms at the Hotel Splendid, which in itself was a misnomer, and headed straight to the bar to plan our tactics. Now that we were here it was obvious that it would be different to working on Centra, any plans that we had made would have had to change. I was mindful of the lawyer’s advice, it repeated what Hendrix had said. It was all very well, but what if we found something in the club, we couldn’t just walk away then.
“Before we go in and stir up the locals,” he said, over our weak beer and extremely salty peanuts, “we should scope the place out, see if we can get anything concrete, any proof one way or the other.”
“That’s a good plan; hopefully the beer will be better.”
He looked at the tab. “It might be stronger, it won’t be cheaper,” he remarked.
We had a few more drinks. I slept reasonably well, apart from the booming propaganda waking me at six. After a mediocre breakfast, we headed out to see the sights.
We left the hotel; there was a row of three-wheeled cabs, spewing fumes into the crisp autumn atmosphere. There were no electric vehicles here; they were still burning fossil fuels.
As we headed towards them, a man leaned out of the one at the end of the line and shouted at us, “Hey Mr Tourist, what’s the matter with mine?”
“You take the first in line,” another driver called. “Don’t you have cabs where you come from?” It wasn’t worth explaining that on Centra you took any cab you wanted, or that there was no way of telling the order. We turned and got in.
“Where to?” the driver asked as we settled in the back.
“Show us the sights,” Brian said. The driver laughed. “What? Here in the city? There are only monuments to the military and tractor factories around here. And the results of our government’s policies.” He pointed to a group of scruffy figures huddled around a fire on a piece of waste ground. “Maybe that’s your thing, you’re not social historians, are you? Studying our policy of keeping the poor down? If you want to see the real sights you need to get out in the country, I can take you to a place that rents hover-cabs, there are some amazing places to go, out of the way. You can camp or trek, or just sit back and watch it all through the viewports.” It sounded interesting, any other time and I’d have been tempted. He pulled away and waited at the gates for a gap in the traffic.
“Actually, we’re looking for a club,” I said. “But it’s a bit early so we thought we’d have a look around town first.”
“Oh right, you’re that sort of tourist, there are loads of clubs over in Vicksville. Most of ’em never shut. I can take you there.” He pulled out into the traffic and we rode for a while. “Which one?” he asked.
“Doppel,” said Brian. The driver swivelled around to look at us. The cab lurched, horns blared. We stopped by the side of the road. He looked angry.
“You people, you come here and that’s all you’re interested in. I know that place, I’ve heard what goes on in there, how the girls are treated. It disgusts me. I think you’d better get out.”
Was it time to confide? We were in a part of town that looked unsafe, especially as we were dressed differently to just about everyone I could see. Now that we had stopped abruptly, a crowd was starting to form around us.
“It’s not like that, we’re not looking for…” I started.
Brian broke in, “We want to help someone, someone who’s in trouble.”
“Your motives are pure then? That’s what they all say. What are you? Family, friends, rescue mission?”
“Yes,” I said not really answering. “Please take us.”
He thought for a while, the engine idling, the crowd getting bigger. There was an air of repressed violence about them. It felt like we were in real danger, given our obvious wealth, at least comparative to them. The roll of notes in Brian’s pocket suddenly seemed to be shouting ‘here I am’.
“I can’t tell you all of it,” I said, I was starting to gabble, Brian was sweating. “We’re from Centra and we’ve heard that a friend is in the club against her will.”
There was the sound of a siren in the distance. The crowd dissolved as it got closer. The driver revved the engine and the cab shot away. Were we safe or just on the way to somewhere a bit more secluded?
“OK, it sounds reasonable,” he said. “I must admit I didn’t have you down as the sort that normally goes there. Same as you don’t look interested in tractor factories. No offence. The usual tourists don’t know about Doppel, and the club’s regular clientele wouldn’t be stopping in that hotel or hiring me. No sir, they’d be five-star everything, all chauffeur driven. I reckon I’ll take you; if you’re meant to get in, you will. If not…” He shrugged. “I’m Brev,” he added.
We drove through some very poor streets, piled with rubbish. The houses had cracked walls, missing doors and broken windows, covered with cardboard or rags. “The people who live here,” Brev said, “they have nothing because the government refuses to allow o
ff-world investment. Dalyster is rich in many things but nobody off-world is allowed to operate here. So the ordinary people have no money, only a certain few get rich. They’re the ones that use Doppel. And they need to learn that the people have the power.”
“Isn’t Mattias trying to help the people, Brev?” Brian asked him. He looked around again, his face not as angry as last time, more contemptuous. “You don’t see Mattias as we do. You think he’s the champion of the little people. He’s not. He’s a creation of the government, he’s the good to their bad. He distracts attention from the bad, leads us to think good will triumph. They need you to think that he’s different. But he’s all part of the same thing.”
We left the slum and entered a much richer area. One side of the street was large houses, with walls and gates. “This is where the privileged folk live, they’re the ones who can afford Doppel,” explained Brev.
I looked in each doorway on the other side of the road. There were people sleeping rough, little camps, open fires. “What about them?” I asked.
“That’s still the slum, this road is the divide. Here we are.” We had stopped outside a double gate. Inside was a gravelled space leading to wide stone steps. At the top, I saw a set of imposing double doors. There was no sign, no indication that we had arrived.
“We’re here, club Doppel,” announced Brev. “I wish you good luck.”
We paid him, got out and walked through the gates. “Follow my lead,” I whispered. “Pretend to be drunk.”
“What’s your business here?” asked one of the largest men I had ever seen. Together with his twin, both dark-suited, with sunglasses and holstered pistols, they were clearly the doorkeepers.
“We’re vacationing, we’ve heard that this is the place to see the rich and famous,” I said, slurring my speech and speaking slowly.
They both grinned and relaxed, marking us as half-drunk tourists – wet behind the ears and probably good for easy pickings.
“Maybe, if you’ve got the cash,” he said, holding out his hand. “A hundred each, admission.”
Brian and I had pooled our expenses cash. Igor had been generous: “Make sure they have enough to get my daughter out,” he had said to Hendrix. We had been given enough to forget Igor and Centra, we could go where nobody knew us, retire to a pleasure planet. We had left half at the hotel, even so, the notes we had made a decent sized roll. With difficulty, Brian pulled it from his pocket and waved it in the man’s face. He peeled notes and handed them over. The door was opened, the men stood aside. “Enjoy,” they grunted as we entered the club.
“I get the feeling,” I said, “that the whole object of this place is to relieve us of as much of our cash as possible.”
“In double quick time,” Brian added.
Inside it was dark, except for the bar and a small stage. There were booths, with drawn curtains and a row of doors to one side. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see familiar faces scattered around. There were stars of video, music and web, male and female. We sat at an empty table and a large lady waddled over, she had an enormous selection of jewellery, in her hair, on her arms and fingers. Around her waist was a glittering cash belt, with a holstered pistol to one side. “What can I get you boys?” she asked. “See anything you like?”
“Just a couple of beers,” said Brian.
She nodded. “Sure, tap the table for the menu.” She waddled away.
What did she mean? I tapped the table. Instantly a screen flickered into life, it might have been a menu but it wasn’t offering food. After Brian selected ‘female’, a list of celebrities came up, with pictures. The services offered ranged from pictures to just about anything else, yet there were no prices. Some of the girls would even accompany you for a holiday, which would probably cost you an eye-watering amount of money. Surprisingly, there was no mention of Layla Balcom, real or fake. Thinking about it logically, if she had been kidnapped she would hardly be on display or advertised openly.
“You were right, it’s all about fulfilling the fantasies of spoilt nerds,” Brian said. “I must be getting old, I don’t recognise half of the people.” Our beers arrived, served by the twin of a famous newsreader, in a revealing dress. I began to see the attraction of the place to a certain kind of person. And I could understand why, as in the way of all things, the novelty of a lookalike would quickly fade, to be replaced by a longing for the real thing.
“Can I get someone to sit with you?” she asked.
“Cyn Deltrex,” I replied without thinking.
She nodded. “That’ll be five hundred, for the beers and the introduction, anything more is up for negotiation.”
I handed her the notes, she tucked them in her dress and walked off. I saw her go over to the large lady.
“Why her?” asked Brian. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d know about her, my daughters think she’s amazing.”
“She was the one who started all this, back on Centra,” I said.
“Oh yes, I remember, the girl Rina, in the mask, up on the Rock. I don’t like it here, Miles. I feel old and out of place. Most of these girls are younger than my daughters. There’s an atmosphere, restrained violence, cheap thrills.”
We drank some more beer, then Cyn Deltrex came over to us, carrying a glass of what looked like wine. It was her, I mean it could have been her, the stage costume was the same and the hair and make-up made her identical. From the back row, hell from the front, it was her. She sat down opposite us, crossed her legs and wet her lips, as if ready to go into some sort of act.
“So, what do you want?” she asked. “If it’s both of you at the same time, that’s gonna cost you more.”
“Are you the only one here, the only Cyn?” I asked her, ignoring her proposition. She looked nervously around, the lady was over at the bar, everyone else was talking, not taking any notice of us.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because Cyn Deltrex is partly why we’re here. My partner met a Cyn Deltrex on Centra,” I said. “Her real name was Rina, she told her that she had escaped from here.”
Cyn gasped, she went pale and turned from a superstar into a frightened girl. “Were you there, that evening?”
“At the lookout? Yes, I was there; you had a clown mask on. You were there with Nat. She was hiding about thirty yards from me. The police came before we could get the full story from you or your friend.”
She had no chance to answer, a man came over, sharply dressed and urbane. “Is everything alright, Cyn?” he said, looking at us. “Are you gentlemen undecided?”
“Back off, Flynt, we’re negotiating,” she replied. “I was just shocked at what they suggested.”
“You know better than that, anything goes in here, gents,” he said, smiling. At least his lips moved into a smile, his eyes were cold. “You know that, Cyn.” He squeezed her shoulder, not gently, smiling at us all the time as he pushed downwards. “As long as the price is right. Remember, the customer always leaves satisfied.” He nodded at us and walked off.
Cyn put her hand on my knee. “Look interested.” She was almost pleading with me. Her face looked racked with worry, there was a red mark on her bare shoulder where he had grabbed her, she was about to cry. I understood her fear, it was the same as I had felt in the company of criminals on Jigsaw, the helplessness of your situation, that your continued existence was at someone else’s whim.
“I hate him, you have to help,” she was pleading. “We escaped from the police that night but he found me and brought me back here. I can’t risk escaping again. I have to do what I’m told.”
Brian was shocked. I expect he was thinking of his daughters, of how he had ended up here. “Did he hurt you?” he asked. She shook her head.
“He can’t hit me, that would leave a mark and reduce my worth. Trouble is, he’s more into psychological torture.”
I knew that could be more painful. “How much to get you somewhere private and talk?” I asked. She named a figure, it was more money than we had. I looke
d at Brian, he shook his head.
“We can’t afford that, I’m out,” he said, with what sounded like relief. “I’m heading back to the hotel. I’m sorry, Miles, you’re on your own.”
“It’s fine, Brian, take enough money for a cab, leave me the rest. I’ll be back later this evening.”
He left, attracting a wry look from the lady, Cyn took my hand and we stood. She led me through one of the doors I had seen. We walked down a short corridor, lit in red. Video cameras swivelled, watching us as we passed. We went through another door into a small, windowless bedroom, with a shower cubicle, washbasin and toilet in the corner.
Cyn shut the door and turned the shower on. “We can talk now,” she said. “Flynt caught me, on that Rock, while I was trying to get away from the police. He brought me back here, threatened me, now I’m never going to get away.” She sobbed and I took her in my arms and tried to comfort her. She pushed me away. “Don’t, it’s all on the clock and you can’t afford it, you’re a decent man, if you’re with that lady, Gaynor someone. She was going to help us.”
“I still want to help,” I said. “Did your friend Nat get away or was she caught as well?”
“She’s not here, I guess she did. I haven’t seen her since that night.”
“And is anything else happening with what you told Gaynor?”
“There’s a room at the end, I can’t get in, none of us can. The word is that there’s a special treat in there for anyone who can pay. She’s kept secret.” She pulled a face. “She gets lots of visitors.”
“Do you think it’s Layla?”
“I don’t know, it’s definitely someone famous, all the visitors are guys with serious money. They keep the rest of us away but all the guys seem happy when they come out.”
“I’m going to get this place shut down,” I told her. “I’ve been sent to find out who’s in that room, get them out and settle a score with Mattias.”
