by Darren Shan
I thought I’d grow to love Ama Situwa. I didn’t know why, or what attracted me to her so passionately, but I felt we were meant for each other.
“We might be old sweethearts,” I said as we wandered through one of the empty warehouses. “We might have known each other in the past. Maybe that’s why we… on the stairs…”
“Perhaps.” She kicked a hole in a rotten plank and smiled.
“I wonder if the other Ayuamarcans have memory gaps?”
“I think they probably have,” she said.
“Where could we have come from?” I frowned. “Employees, brainwashed to do The Cardinal’s bidding?”
“Brainwashing’s not real,” she scoffed. “You can maybe alter people’s minds a bit, but not to this extent.”
“Science can do anything these days,” I disagreed. “For all we know, we might have volunteered. Maybe the others—the ones with the lines through their names—aren’t dead. Maybe they just regained their old memories and were withdrawn from the program.”
“Sounds flaky, Raimi.”
“How else do you explain it?”
“Maybe The Cardinal scours hospitals for amnesiacs,” she said. “Buys or steals them, feeds them false identities and…” I raised an eyebrow. “It’s as likely as your theory,” she sniffed.
“We’re probably way off base,” I said. “The rest probably have perfect memories and we’re just two screwups who came together by chance.”
“You believe that?” she asked.
“I don’t believe anything anymore,” I told her.
We parted eventually, reluctantly, having said nothing about our feelings for each other or any future we might have together. There was no time. Not until this Ayuamarca business was out of the way. How could we think about a relationship when we didn’t even know if our names were real?
We agreed to meet on the nineteenth floor of Party Central at ten the next night if we were both still alive. We kissed once and parted, no heroic or amorous last words. Ama returned to Cafran Reed on her scooter and I went back to the less fatherly Nathanael Mead. He was reading a paper when I arrived. He glanced up when the door opened, folded the paper and started the engine.
“A productive meeting?” he asked when we were on the road back to civilization.
“It was… different,” I said.
“He’s a dangerous man, The Cardinal,” Mead said. “You wanna watch yourself. He’ll chew you up if you don’t.”
“How come you know so much?” I asked.
“I’m a cabbie. Been one all my working life. You hear things. See things. If you want to. Most don’t—they turn a blind eye and mind their own business. I’m not like that. I like to keep in touch.”
“Speaking of blind eyes,” I said. “You know anything about a gang of blind, religious nuts? They dress in robes and—”
“—Come out whenever there’s a fog,” he said, nodding. “Sure. I don’t know much about them, except they’ve been around as long as I can remember.”
“Have they got anything to do with The Cardinal?”
“No idea,” he said.
When we returned to the heart of the metropolis I told him to stop. I paid the fare and gave him a hearty tip for his trouble.
“Not bad,” he whistled appreciatively.
“If I ever need you again, can I call?”
“Sure.” He gave me a grubby card. “My cell.” He paused. “You’re OK, Raimi. You need me, call. I’ll come get you wherever you are.”
“Thanks.”
I waited around a while, then hailed another cab, directed the driver to Party Central, and gave him a tip up front to break a few speeding regulations. I had investigations to make.
capac
I stayed through the night. Secretaries and temps came and went in shifts but I remained, hooked to one terminal or another, eyes glued to screens or pages, fingers flicking over keys or through books, searching, absorbing, analyzing. The files were as detailed as Ama had claimed. Everything I’d done since coming to the city was listed. Bills, receipts, inventories. Transcripts of conversations with clients, friends and associates. Even the tennis scores from my day at the courts. The Cardinal must have spent a fortune compiling this.
But not a word about my past. I used the computers to cross-reference my name with everything they could muster, but it was like I’d asked them to find a ghost. As far as the records were concerned, before I’d come to this city I hadn’t existed. In the face of such a lack of evidence, I could almost believe that I’d blinked into existence that day. Except I had memories. They were vague and I couldn’t get a proper fix on them, but they were there. The face of the woman. My familiarity with old movies, songs and books that I liked.
It had to be amnesia. The Cardinal must have found me in a hospital as Ama had suggested, mind frayed, a wreck. He brought me here to serve one of his obscure purposes, fed me a false identity and set me loose. It was like something out of a sci-fi flick but I could buy it. Just about.
But what about Theo, Cafran Reed and Sonja Arne? They weren’t amnesiacs. Maybe it was a big pretense but Theo had acted as if he truly thought I was his nephew. Cafran had studied Ama with a father’s loving eyes. Sonja had doted on Adrian before she denied all knowledge of him. Easy to think they’d been bought, that they were playing The Cardinal’s game, but I didn’t think it was that simple. If I was any judge of character, they really believed that we were their relations.
I looked up Theo’s files. He had two sisters, neither living in the city. I called both, my throat dry, not a hundred percent neither of them was my mother. I told them I was an old friend of Theo’s, that I’d been away a long time and had just learned of his death. They were glad to talk about him. Neither recognized my voice. I probed gently, throwing innocent questions their way. One was divorced and childless, the other had six children, the eldest a mere seventeen years old. I thanked them for their time, promised to drop in if I was ever nearby, and severed my connections with my uncle once and for all. He wasn’t my mother’s brother. He’d probably never seen me before I arrived that dull and rainy day.
I searched for Y Tse Lapotaire and Adrian Arne. I figured they had to crop up somewhere. But not a whiff. I went back further. As Inti Maimi, Y Tse had been The Cardinal’s right-hand man. There had to be files on him. You couldn’t go through a period of your life as the second most powerful man in the city without leaving some trace. Even if his files had been pulled, there had to be mention of him in the records, photos of him in the press, like Ford Tasso, Sonja Arne and every other major mover.
Nothing.
My last throw of the dice was a copy of the register from Shankar’s. It was a huge, gold-bound book. Every guest was invited to sign it when leaving the restaurant. Most didn’t—it was there primarily for the occasional high-ranking visitor. Y Tse and I had signed it a few weeks back. We’d been drinking a bit more than usual. In our drunken state it had suddenly become vitally important to sign the big book, leaving our mark for future generations. Y Tse went first, taking up three lines with his scrawl. I followed less flamboyantly. We laughed, slapped each other’s backs and stumbled out.
The copy in Party Central was updated a couple of times a week. They used a color photocopier so nothing was lost in the transfer. I flicked to the end and sought our names. There I was, Capac Raimi. And right above, three lines high— Samuel Griff .
I cast my mind back. Samuel Griff was one of my customers. I’d sold him a policy after a meeting in Shankar’s. We hadn’t been there that particular day of course, since I remembered being there with Y Tse then. But I knew Griff would say we had been if I called andasked.
It was hopeless. The Cardinal had covered every track. As far as history was concerned, Y Tse Lapotaire had never existed. Adrian Arne had never existed. Capac Raimi had, but not before coming to the city.
I spotted the first rays of morning through the window blinds. I’d spent the entire night following trails that l
ed nowhere. I rubbed my tired eyes and leaned back, yawning, stretching my arms until my fingers seemed to touch the ceiling. At least I now knew where I stood. No avenue remained, apart from the one I was going to explore that night with Ama. I stood to lose everything but it no longer mattered. I’d been robbed of a past and that was something I couldn’t live with. I had to find out who I was. Whatever the cost.
I logged out, switched off the light, called Thomas and told him to meet me at the bottom of the building. I headed back to the Skylight to grab a good day’s sleep before the night raid. I’d need all my wits about me at ten.
I was half dozing in the back of the car when Thomas suddenly broke the protocol and addressed me. “Sir, I believe we’re being followed.”
“I don’t think this is the first time,” I said sourly, thinking about all those reports I’d read the night before. They couldn’t have tracked me so easily if Thomas hadn’t been helping them out.
“True, sir,” he replied, “but I was not informed of any tail today.”
“Where is it?” I asked, glancing into the mirror. The fog had cleared overnight and I had an uninterrupted view of the road.
“The scooter, sir. You see?”
I did, and knew immediately who it was. Ama had obviously decided it would be safer to keep an eye on me. I smiled and made up my mind to play her at her own game. I looked around. “That shopping mall,” I said to Thomas. “Pull up and let me out. Head home after that. I can take care of this.”
“You’re certain, sir?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “I know who it is.”
The early morning air was refreshing. The streets were quiet, most of the shops yet to open. I called into a twenty-four-hour café and ordered a coffee, giving Ama time to park her bike. When I was ready, I strolled to the mall, which was just opening. I passed weary workers heading in for an early shift, a couple of guards watching the sports news on a store TV and several cleaners going about their work cheerfully, enjoying the calm before the crowds.
I saw a stalled escalator and trotted up the steps. At the top, where I couldn’t be seen, I broke into a sprint and scurried down a hall, looking for a niche. I wanted to spring out on Ama and give her a shock.
I noticed a small, inoperative fountain. The base was dry and there was a narrow ledge that I could just about squeeze under. The only problem would be identifying Ama, but there was a decorative mirror hanging from wires nearby. I climbed into the fountain and eased myself under the ledge, then slid along until I had a good view of the hall in the mirror.
She was a long time coming. I heard footsteps before I saw anything. They came cautiously, pausing every few seconds. She probably guessed I was on to her, but had come too far to turn back. Her feet came into view and I edged out a little. She moved further forward. Any second now, I’d be able to see her face and…
My entire body went numb.
It wasn’t Ama.
I squeezed back under the ledge, as quietly as I could. The steps came closer. I was sure I’d been spotted, that I was a dead man, but then my pursuer sat down on the ledge and whistled aimlessly. I glanced up at the mirror. He had his back to me but whenever he turned sideways I could see the snakes flashing. I remembered Johnny Grace and tried not to breathe.
Finally, as the mall filled, he drummed his fingers on the ledge a few times, tutted and moved on. I stayed hemmed in and let several minutes pass before I slid out. I fumbled my cell from my pocket—my hands were shaking bad—and rang Ama. There was no answer for ten, eleven, twelve tones. My throat tightened and a heavy weight settled in my stomach. As I was about to hang up, somebody answered groggily. “Yes?” It was Cafran.
“Could I speak to Ama, Mr. Reed?” I gasped.
“Who?” My heart nearly stopped. “Who is this?” he snapped. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Is Ama there?” I shouted. “Ama Situwa. Is she—”
In the background I heard a voice asking who was on the phone. Cafran placed his hand over the speaker to answer. Then, seconds later, Ama was on the line. “Capac, is that you?” She sounded sleepy.
“Get out of there,” I said levelly. “Don’t pack, don’t wash, don’t say anything to Cafran. Just get dressed and leave.”
“What the—”
“Paucar Wami’s after me.” She said nothing. “You know what that means?”
“I have an idea,” she muttered.
“I gave him the slip, but maybe I’m not the only one he wants. Get out. Lose yourself in the city. We’ll meet later.”
“Where? The docks?”
“No. Call me on my…” I stopped, thinking for the first time that my cell might be tapped. “Hold on, I’ll call you back in a minute.” Ilooked for a public phone, called Ama from it and read out the number. “Call me at two o’clock. That’ll give me time to get to the Skylight, freshen up and make plans.”
“Is it safe to go back there?” she asked.
“He won’t hit me in front of so many witnesses.”
“But—”
“No more talk. Move. And Ama? Take your gun.” I hung up and walked out, not looking around to see if he was waiting, doing nothing to appear conspicuous. I hailed a cab and returned to the Skylight.
The air-conditioned room was bliss after the sticky cab. My limbs were heavy and my head was foggy. I’d been awake far too long. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water over my face and neck, which shocked a bit of life into me. I wanted to hit the sack but decided to go and say hello to Conchita first. I hadn’t phoned the night before and didn’t want her worrying about me.
She was reclining on a couch, doctors and nurses nowhere in sight. She smiled when I entered, sat up and patted a space next to her own. The room had changed recently. She’d started removing the sheets and covers, exposing the walls and furniture. Her clothes had also changed and now her arms and legs were bare. She was no longer ashamed of her wrinkled old flesh.
“Hey, small fry,” I greeted her. “How you doing?”
“Not so bad. Yourself?”
“Can’t complain.”
“I missed you last night. Business?”
“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t call. You weren’t worried?”
“No. I knew you were OK. I could sense it.”
“Telepathy?” I smiled.
“Maybe the bonds of love,” she winked.
“Or maybe because we’re both Ayuamarcans?” I probed.
She pinched her lips together. “No,” she said. “I won’t talk about that. It drove me mad before and I won’t make the same mistake twice. My advice is to forget it. Forget Ferdy, your job and this city. Walk away from it all.”
“By myself? I’d be lonely.”
“You needn’t be.” She brought her legs up and knelt on the sofa, eyes bright. “I’m an old woman, Capac. You made me realize that. I’ve wasted my life hiding from the truth, fighting my body, slave to my face. I became a young Conchita Kubekik again, when I should have fought harder and been Conchita Dorak. It’s almost too late, but not quite. I’ve still got time.
“I’m leaving,” she said. “In a couple of weeks I’ll pack my bags, dismiss the help and go. I’ve always wanted to see the world. I’ve been tied to this city by an ugly umbilical cord of my own making. Now I’m going to chew it up and spit it out. I’m through standing still. I’ll go on long cruises, explore exotic countries, take a harem of young lovers. I don’t know how much life there’s left in these dry old bones, but I’ll make good use of it. I’m going to live and have fun!
“Come with me.” The light in her eyes was intense, hypnotic. She was doing everything she could to save me. “Leave Ferdy, the gangsters, the hurt, the death. Be my companion, my son, my husband, my friend.”
I held her hands softly, saying nothing, and slowly shook my head. “I can’t. I’m glad you’re escaping. Maybe I can too one day. But I can’t turn my back on it yet. Find somebody good to love, without my dark desires. I’d only be a lin
k to the past. I’d destroy you all over again. I wouldn’t want to but that’s how I am.”
“I know.” Her head sagged. “I asked anyway, hoping, but I knew.” She looked up. “He’ll kill you, Capac. Ferdy will ruin you. You can’t beat The Cardinal.”
“You’re probably right,” I sighed. “But this is where I’m meant to be. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about this city, not just The Cardinal, and it’s made me its own. I’d be lost anywhere else.”
She freed her hands. “So alike, you and Ferdy. He was fiercer, less refined, less thoughtful. But he knew what he wanted and the price he must pay. You do too.”
“What price, Conchita?”
“You know,” she said.
“I don’t. Tell me.”
“Your life,” she said, glancing away.
“I’ll lose that anyway in the end. What else?”
“Your friends.”
“I’ve already lost most of them. What else?”
“Your dreams will sour and leave you embittered.”
“Most dreams do. What’s the price, Conchita? What do I have to lose that’s so terrible? Tell me.”
She finally looked back and said it. “Your humanity.”
I couldn’t reply to that. I just sat and stared and tried to convince myself that she was wrong.
I took every precaution I could when returning to the mall. I changed cabs five times. Walked a couple of miles along the most crowded streets I could find. Even called into a men’s store and changed my clothes. When I’d done all in my power, I crossed my fingers and made my way back.
The phone rang on the dot. “Any sign of a tail?” I asked, not bothering with preliminaries.
“No.”
“You sound sure.”
“I went out to the country,” she told me. “It’s open roads and uninterrupted views for miles around. Nobody could have followed unobserved. I came back by a different route. I’m safe.”
“I’m not so certain, but I think I made it unnoticed. No sign of Wami anyway.”
