The Mandel Files

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “How did you-?”

  “Tell you, Charlotte, you’re a very important person. Victor here has a big profile on you.”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “I took a flight from Mangonui spaceport.”

  “With your patron?”

  “No. I said it was a holiday. I went by myself”

  “How did you pay for it?”

  “I didn’t. It was a farewell gift from my last patron, all expenses paid. Baronski let me keep it. I normally have to hand the gifts over, but he could hardly sell it, so he let me go ahead.”

  Victor let out a groan. “No wonder we couldn’t trace you through Amex. What was this patron’s name?”

  “Ali Murdad.”

  “Did he send you up there to collect the flower?” Greg asked. “Or any other kind of favour?”

  “No. It was a genuine holiday for me.”

  “I have confirmed the ticket,” one of Julia’s images said. “A regal-class package with Thomas Cook, booked by Aflaj Industrial Cybernetics-Ali Murdad listed as a director. A fortnight at the High Savoy, with a universal club and resort access card.”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “Tell us about this priest,” Greg said. “Are you certain he was a Celestial Apostle?”

  “Yes. There was a group of them working round the tourists at the fall surf beach. A couple of them spoke to me, they were about my age, they explained what the Celesnals were. They were very devout, I don’t mean silly like the Hare Krishnas or deadly dull like the Jehovah’s Witnesses, they had a sense of humour, but they really believed our destiny lies out among the stars. They asked me if I wanted to stay up in New London permanently; they said it wouldn’t be a hard life, not like the cults that exploit children down here, but it was fairly basic. That didn’t seem to bother them, they believe it’s only temporary, when this divine event of theirs finally occurs everything will change. I think they expect to receive a higher blessing than everyone else, or be the first people admitted into heaven, or something along those lines. Being a Celestial Apostle was certainly supposed to be a step up the ladder towards God.”

  “But you turned them down?”

  “Hell, yes-I can go up to New London any time I want. I’m not spending the rest of my life boring the pants off tourists with nutty creeds. Besides, they seemed a bit simple, you know? Dreamy types.”

  “And was this priest one of the pair which spoke to you?”

  “No, he came over when they left. He knew my name, though, that was the funny thing. I got the impression he was waiting for the other two to finish. He said he was sorry they had failed to show me the light, then he asked me if I’d do a friend of his a favour.”

  “What was the friend’s name?” Victor asked.

  “He said he couldn’t tell me for obvious reasons.”

  Julia smiled as if she already knew. “Go on.”

  “He asked me to deliver something to you. He said it was a gift from your lover, but that no one must know. I thought-well, you already have a husband, you see, so there was this other secret man in your life. It was romantic and exciting, me being asked to be a go-between for you. I couldn’t say no. You’re… well, you’re Julia Evans, aren’t you? I would have been involved in something delicious, I might even have been asked to do it again. So I cut short my holiday and flew back. Dmitri Baronski got me the ticket for the Newfields ball.” She stared determinedly at her finger nails, mortified. Whatever would Fabian think of her, acting like a schoolgirl.

  “He knew your name,” Greg said in the silence that followed, “he knew you had the contacts necessary to get into Monaco’s social event of the year at a day’s notice, and he knew you had the savoir-faire to deliver the flower. Some Celestial Apostle.”

  “You think that’s him, boy?” Philip Evans asked. “The alien?”

  “Alien?” Charlotte gasped. Fabian lurched upright in his chair, staring at Philip Evans’s image.

  Nobody said anything, they were all looking at Greg, waiting for him to speak, like he was some sort of guru or something, she thought. He blinked slowly, and focused on her. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling Fabian’s hand in her own, the damp smooth skin tightening its grip silently. Greg didn’t just look at you, she decided, he judged you. A psychic. The realization didn’t make her any more comfortable. There were stories – “You said you broke off your holiday to deliver the flower?” Greg asked.

  “Yes.” Her throat was contracting.

  “How much of it did you miss?”

  “Four days, Ali’s package was for a fortnight. But I changed my ticket for an earlier flight. The agent said there was no problem. I landed at Capetown then caught a connecting flight.”

  “Ah.” A smile spread across his face. “I think we’d better fill you in on a few points.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Suzi sat dumb while everyone had their say. First Charlotte telling how some Celestial Apostle handed her the alien flower. And just what the flick was a Celestial Apostle anyway? Then Greg on his Russian general mate, and how the Dolgoprudnensky were probably plugged in somewhere down the line. At least she knew about the Dolgoprudnensky, tough bastards. Julia started rapping about her starship supertechnology, and the heat she was getting from kombinates and microbes, and Royan being his usual monomaniac self. Royan always had to take apart anything new; split it open, figure it out, and put it back together so that it worked smoother. If Julia didn’t know that about him then they weren’t as close as she thought.

  All heavy duty shit…

  Charlotte and Fabian were sitting up straight like a couple of kids at school who’d been lumbered with the toughest master for a lesson, hanging on to every word. Charlotte’s gorgeous face was crinkling from the effort of following details. Suzi glanced casually at the girl’s profile. Not bad at all. Which reminded Suzi of Andria, who she hadn’t phoned since the airship.

  The rap went on relentlessly around her. It was something she hated, and she couldn’t let them know. Silence implied wisdom, some bulishit like that. Let them think she was lost in deep thoughts, fully plugged in. This was Greg’s scene, not hers. She could plan ahead, sort a deal down to the last detail. Good at it, too. But she could never pin the past down the way Greg could. He listened to what people said they believed had happened, thought about it, then explained what had really been going on. And it all made sense, like he was fitting a big jigsaw of events together in his mind, a map through what had been. Him and his warlock intuition.

  She grinned at him.

  He gave her a knowing look, then broke away. “You see, Charlotte,” he said, “you didn’t know it, but you’ve actually been working for the Dolgoprudnensky since you left the orphanage. According to General Kamoskin, Baronski was plugged into them at a high level. That’s why he always sent you and the other girls looking for financial gossip. He made some money out of it, certainly; but all the really smart data was squirted back to this Pavel Kirilov character. He’s in a position to make a lot more use of it than Baronski ever could.”

  The girl looked crestfallen. Suzi could see Fabian’s hand locked in hers under the table, his thumb stroking gently.

  “And you think it was the Dolgoprudnensky who asked Jason Whitehurst to lift her from Monaco?” Victor asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Father did business with them,” Fabian said unexpectedly. “It was sneaky stuff. Made us a heck of a lot of money, though.”

  “Are you sure?” Julia asked.

  The boy grimaced. “Absolutely. Father explained it to me.” He smiled at Charlotte, flipping a lock of hair from his eyes. “I said he told me everything.”

  “Yes, you did,” Charlotte said. “So how did it work?”

  “It was the Dolgoprudnensky who made sure we were granted all our import-export licences with the Eastern Federation states. Licences are really tricky to get most of the time, unless you know the right people; those Eastern European states are still lumbered with huge civil service bureaucr
acies. All we had to do in return for the licences was use ships which the Dolgoprudnensky owned to carry our cargoes in and out of Odessa. It’s simple really, most of our trade with Russia involves exchanging their timber for household gear and industrial cybernetics. So say if a Russian company comes to us and asks us for a particular piece of foreign hardware, we look round the global timber market and come back with a weight of wood which is equal to the cost of that hardware. Next, the Russian government’s Timber Export Directorate authorizes the release of that weight from their stocks. They have millions of tonnes of dead deciduous trees left over from the Warming, it’s a big national resource for them. The timber is shipped out of Odessa at ten per cent above the normal commercial carriage rate, and in return the company gets its hardware. Nobody queries the amount of wood being sold abroad which pays for that extra ten per cent in the shipping costs, because the Dolgoprudnensky have consolidated their control of the Timber Export Directorate. From the Director herself right down to the office cleaners, the entire staff is made up of Dolgoprudnensky members; it’s like a closed shop, the personnel department will only employ their nominees. And the only merchants who are admitted to the Directorate’s approved list to barter timber are the ones in on the deal. Like Father.”

  “And timber is bulky,” Julia said. “You need a lot of ships to transport it.”

  “That’s right. Only father didn’t just supply single pieces of hardware to Russia, he shipped in entire factories.”

  Charlotte reached out and smoothed the remaining strands of hair from Fabian’s forehead. They both smiled at each other.

  “OK,” said Greg. “That confirms it. Jason Whitehurst was working for the Dolgoprudnensky, at least to start with. When he began to realize how valuable Charlotte was he decided he didn’t need them any more. It explains why Nia Korovilla was on board, to keep a close watch on the Dolgoprudnensky’s most valuable timber deal partner. And they were also the ones who mounted the observation on Baronski’s apartment after the Colonel Maitland failed to show at Odessa.”

  “But how did they know I was carrying the flower for Julia?” Charlotte asked.

  “They wouldn’t have known it was the flower specifically, not at first,” Greg said; he pursed his lips, gazing at the ceiling. “Let’s see. How long had it been since your last genuine by-yourself holiday?”

  “I’m not sure, a couple of years at least, maybe longer.”

  “OK, and where were you when you asked Baronski to get you in to the Newfields ball?”

  “I was still up at New London. If he couldn’t get me a ticket there wouldn’t have been much point in coming back to Earth early.”

  “And you specifically told him it was Julia you wanted to see?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That would make Baronski very suspicious. You break off a pre-paid holiday of a lifetime, all because you want to physically meet the woman who owns one of the largest companies in the world. There must have been a compelling reason, yet you didn’t tell him, which is not only out of character, it goes against your whole arrangement with him. If I was Baronski, someone who lived off the kind of byte scraps dropped by people like Julia, I’d want to know exactly what you were up to.

  “I’d say it went like this. After he found you the Newfields ticket he called the Dolgoprudnensky and told them something dodgy was going down. You either knew something about Julia, or you were carrying something to her. They would have been on to you straight away, probably before you left New London. Your luggage would be searched, which I’m guessing is when they took a sample of the flower. It was obviously something that had been given to you recently, something you’d brought down from New London. An empathic psychic would home on to that flower straight off. Tell you, it gives off some pretty weird vibes. And any pro tekmerc team would use a psychic on an observation mission. Suzi will tell you.”

  She gave Charlotte a rough nod. “Too fucking true. When we roll a courier, anything and everything they have with them is suspect until proved otherwise. Clothing, hair, luggage. We even pick up sweet wrappers out of the bin, half-eaten hamburgers, you name it, anything discarded. Using an empath is routine, it’s the least you need. Me, I prefer a precog if I can get me one. They tend to be more reliable.” She held Greg’s eye, taunting.

  “The man at the airport!” Charlotte said in a fearful gasp.

  “What man?” Suzi asked keenly.

  “I saw him twice, maybe three times. He was waiting at Capetown when I landed, then he was at the Monaco airport, too. And I thought I caught a glimpse of him at the Newfields ball, but I couldn’t be certain. He was dressed as a waiter.”

  “Interesting,” Greg said.

  “No such thing as coincidence,” Victor murmured.

  “No messing.” Greg turned back to Charlotte. “When did Baronski tell you to meet Jason Whitehurst?”

  “He called me right after my flight landed at Capetown. I was still in the spaceport.”

  “A day after he organized the ticket. Plenty of time for the Dolgoprudnensky agents to discover the flower. After that, after they had analysed it and discovered it was alien, they would have been very interested in exactly where in New London you obtained it, and from whom. They must have allowed you to go to the Newfields ball so they could confirm it was Julia you were delivering the flower to. Then Jason Whitehurst was supposed to take you straight to them for interrogation.” He shook his head in amused admiration. “They must have been frantic when you dropped out of sight. I imagine they’ve had their agents searching New London for the last four days.”

  “So if the Dolgoprudnensky haven’t contacted the alien, why did Mutizen make their offer to me?” Julia asked.

  “It wasn’t a genuine offer,” Greg said. “As far as we know, Event Horizon is the only company to be offered generator data by Mutizen. Everyone else has been approached by Clifford Jepson, including Mikoyan who loyally informed the Russian Defence Ministry. Consider the timing. Three or four days ago the Dolgoprudnensky learned about atomic structuring, either from contacts in Mikoyan or the Russian Defence Ministry. A technology so startlingly original it’s frightened the crap out of every company and government that’s heard about it. Then, at more or less the same time, they find out there could be an alien in the solar system. Just like you did, Julia; and just like you they drew the same conclusion. The two have to be connected. Since then, they have been doing exactly the same as everyone else, trying to find the source of atomic structuring, the owner of the generator data. Their advantage was that they were the first to know about both atomic structuring and Royan’s alien together. They thought all they had to do was interrogate Charlotte and they would get to the alien first. But then Jason Whitehurst played his joker and isolated her. The Dolgoprudnensky started to panic. There’s a definite deadline involved, because tomorrow Clifford Jepson is going to finalize his partnership. If they want in, they’re going to have to find the alien before then. They’re trying to get you and Clifford Jepson to do their work for them.

  “Mutizen was ordered to offer you the joint development deal and production partnership. It’s a complete phoney, but it made sure you knew about atomic structuring after you’d been given the flower. That way you would be bound to mount a major operation to chase after Royan, an operation that was naturally put together in a hurry. In other words, a sloppy one, one which would be easy for them to follow. And Mutizen’s offer would also spur Clifford Jepson along, maybe even force him to visit the alien to ask how come Mutizen were also offering generator data. Certainly they slipped him the know about Charlotte and maybe Royan as well; that’s why Leol Reiger appeared on the scene. The Dolgoprudnensky couldn’t lose; they have their own agents searching New London, then they had Event Horizon and Clifford Jepson plugged in as well, three trails to follow. Vassili was right, that Kirilov is one smart bastard.”

  “I’ve been used?” Julia asked quietly.

  Suzi tried to tell herself she wasn’t bothered by
the icecool tone. But Julia had a way of speaking direct into the brain. And hearing her angry like this was daunting. All that power, safely bottled away by Julia’s stuffy conventions and convictions, but what that woman could do if she ever lashed out…

  “Yes, you,” Greg said lightly. “And me, and Suzi, Victor, Clifford. The Dolgoprudnensky loaded our programs, and we jerked about like cyborgs. The only one who didn’t was Jason Whitehurst.”

  Julia’s face was perfectly composed, staring out of the window, swallowed by thought.

  “The synopsis Greg suggests does seem to plug in to the profile we’ve been assembling on Mutizen,” one of Julia’s screen images said. “We were unable to find any reference to atomic structuring technology prior to two days ago. There have been no funds allocated to physics research teams, they don’t employ any scientists capable of doing that kind of work. Your original assessment that they had obtained the data from someone else is the most logical solution.”

  “Humm,” Julia turned to Greg. “Is he still alive?”

  “You know I can’t answer that, but-” Greg’s face went all slack. “I don’t get any bad vibes about carrying on the search. Maybe it’ll be worthwhile. Tell you, I’m going to keep going.” He fixed Suzi with a bleary gaze. “How about you?”

  “New London next stop,” she said levelly. Then Leol Reiger.

  “I didn’t say I was going to stop.” Julia spiked Greg with a vexed glare.

  “Good,” he said. “New London is a big place, and the Dolgoprudnensky agents wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “And you do?” Julia asked.

  “No. But Charlotte does. How about it? Will you come with us, Charlotte? Identify the priest for us?”

  Charlotte gave a cautious nod. “Yes. If you think I can help.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte.” Julia showed her a warm smile. The girl’s tension seemed to flake away.

  “Are you sure New London is the source?” Victor asked. He struck Suzi as the only one round the table who wasn’t entirely convinced abut Royan and the alien. Which was strange, he’d seen Greg’s psi at work before.