by Gary Gibson
Inside, one of the Patriot agents took Nadia into an office, while his associate led me through the back to a cell block.
‘Shoes, belt,’ he said, as he opened the barred door of a cell.
‘You have to be fucking kidding,’ I said, regarding him with a stunned expression. ‘You think I might kill myself?’
‘Now,’ he repeated, glowering at me. I glanced at the holstered gun just visible beneath his open jacket and held my tongue.
He locked me in and I listened to him retreat down the corridor. The cell had a single barred window, and since I had nothing better to do, I sat and watched the clouds tracking across the sky before I gave up hoping they might let me out any time soon.
I lay back on the narrow bench bolted to the wall, until fatigue finally carried me back off into sleep.
It felt like midday when I woke some hours later to the sound of footsteps coming back. From what I could see out of the window, it was a fine and sunny day.
The cell door swung open, and someone new walked in. He was dressed the same as the two agents who’d picked up Nadia and I that morning, and he was accompanied by the agent who had earlier deprived me of my shoes and belt. The newcomer carried a small metal stool in one hand, which he placed in the centre of the cell, facing the bench on which I’d slept. He took a seat facing me. The other agent meanwhile stood by the cell door with a watchful expression, his hand never far from his holster.
‘Mr Beche,’ said the man on the stool. ‘My name’s Langward Greenbrooke and I represent an internal agency of the Authority that investigates various . . . irregularities, for want of a better word.’ He spoke as if we were neighbours meeting for the first time over a garden fence. He reached out one hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’
I leaned back, and fought the urge to shake his hand. ‘I think,’ I said as evenly as I could manage, ‘you should tell me why I’m here.’
Greenbrooke gave an almost Gallic shrug, and leaned back on his stool. I wasn’t fooled. He was acting friendly enough, but there was a hardness in his eyes that didn’t reassure me.
He grinned widely and glanced around at his compatriot, still standing by the door, as if they were sharing a joke. ‘I think you already know, Mr Beche,’ he said, turning back to me and affecting an air of polite confusion.
‘Is this about Barnes?’
Greenbrooke scratched at his cheek and rubbed one hand over his mouth as if about to broach a subject both difficult and embarrassing to him. ‘Well, here’s the thing, Mr Beche. I’ll be honest with you. I hate to drag anyone out of bed first thing, but I really, really want to know why you and Miss Mirkowsky first countermanded a direct order and then, to top it all, assaulted the man who gave you that order.’ Greenbrooke shook his head in wonder. ‘Why did you do that?’
I licked my lips, tasting salt. ‘There were people in trouble,’ I said. ‘And Nadia didn’t want to leave them to die.’
Greenbrooke leaned forward. ‘So you thought you’d endanger your own lives as well.’
I felt my face colour. ‘That isn’t how it was.’
‘Do you mean you were involved in the decision to disobey an order?’
‘What? That isn’t what I said—’
‘Wouldn’t it also be accurate to say,’ Greenbrooke interrupted me, ‘that Nadia Mirkowsky allowed her ungodly and unnatural desire for Miss Ludke to override her duty?’
I struggled to control my temper. Greenbrooke was studying me closely, waiting to see how I would react. I glanced past him, seeing the other agent’s hand creep incrementally closer to the butt of his gun, even as the blood sang in my ears.
‘I think,’ I said, as evenly as I could manage, ‘that her sexual preferences don’t really come into it at all.’
‘Even worse,’ Greenbrooke continued as if he hadn’t even heard me, ‘she assaulted a senior member of the Authority’s staff. You could have apprehended her at the time, or gone to Commander Barnes’ aid. Why didn’t you?’
My temper finally won. ‘Barnes,’ I said through gritted teeth, ‘was a fucking asshole.’
Greenbrooke leaned back again, with an expression of quiet triumph. ‘On the contrary, Mr Beche, he was trying to do his job, which is organized according to a set of strict regulations that exist – let me assure you – for very good reasons. The fact you did nothing to stop her or defuse the situation makes you, in my eyes, equally responsible.’
‘He was goading her!’ I shouted, even though I knew I was being deliberately provoked. ‘I haven’t known Nadia long, but she’s one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. She risked her neck to save three people’s lives.’
‘Or perhaps she’s a thrill-seeker,’ said Greenbrooke. ‘Perhaps she sabotaged the EV that crashed in those vaults so that she would have the opportunity to make a daring rescue.’
I stood. ‘That’s it,’ I said, raising both hands, palms forward as if to fend off any more questions. The agent guarding the cell door responded by immediately unholstering his pistol. For the moment, however, he kept it by his side. ‘I’m not listening to any more of this.’
‘Sit down, Mr Beche,’ said Greenbrooke, looking up at me.
I stood where I was without moving, and Greenbrooke made a gesture without turning. The agent wielding the gun brought his weapon up and gestured with it for me to sit back down. My legs folded under me of their own accord, and I sat.
‘There have been other, equally serious breaches in recent months, Mr Beche. You’re new, so you likely won’t be aware of most of those, but the fact remains you’ve been here barely a few weeks and your presence is already proving disruptive. You are aware, are you not, that we can put you right back where you came from just as easily as we found you?’
I reeled back, shocked by the threat. ‘I just don’t see what any of this has to do with—’ I began to stammer.
I heard a sudden commotion from the direction of the cell block entrance. The second agent reholstered his gun, then stepped out into the corridor and walked out of sight. I could hear voices coming closer, sounding loud and angry as they echoed from the whitewashed walls.
Greenbrooke stood from his stool just as two more men pushed past the other Patriot agent, who had tried ineffectually to stand in the way of the two newcomers. One of these was dressed in a pale grey suit and burgundy tie, and had the look and build of a retired boxer. He had broad, muscled shoulders and a stiff head of bristly grey hair that stood almost straight up from his scalp. The man accompanying him was smaller and slighter, with thin, pursed lips and almost translucent skin.
‘. . . don’t have the right to hold either of them, goddammit!’ the one with the bristly grey hair was shouting. ‘Get him the hell out of there,’ he said, pointing towards me. ‘He should never have been in here in the first damn place!’
‘Commander Bramnik,’ said Greenbrooke, ‘we have the authority to carry out an investigation that—’
‘I said now, Agent Greenbrooke,’ Bramnik bellowed. ‘I’m tired of you trying to override my command!’
This, I realized, must be Mort Bramnik – the man in charge of operations on the island. Two soldiers had also appeared outside the cell door, and as a result it was starting to get more than a little crowded.
Bramnik slammed one meaty finger into the palm of his other hand again and again, like a Roman senator plunging his dagger into an emperor’s chest. ‘There’s no paperwork filed, no warrant issued, no reason for you or your men to be here at all. The way I see it,’ he continued, his voice still escalating, ‘you’ve just illegally detained two of my operatives in the course of performing their duty!’
‘They disobeyed orders,’ Greenbrooke peevishly insisted, ‘and assaulted a base commander, no less. There are strict—’
‘Actually, sir,’ said the smaller man accompanying Bramnik, ‘Miss Mirkowsky has a duty to ensure the safety of the Pathfinders under her command at all times, under the terms of the special mandate they operate by. Within t
he terms of that mandate, Commander Barnes has, in fact, contravened his own general orders. And as for the assault, well . . . the fact is the Commander has been charged with dereliction of duty on any number of occasions, and if this matter were to go any further, I don’t have any doubt that those failings would be brought to light in a most unwelcome manner. Would I be correct, Agent Greenbrooke, in my understanding that Commander Barnes’ father has strong personal and collegiate ties to yourself?’
Greenbrooke’s face coloured, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. In the meantime, Bramnik pulled a much-folded document from a jacket pocket and almost forcibly pushed it into the agent’s hands.
‘That,’ said Bramnik, ‘comes straight from the Special Department. I’ll save you the trouble of reading it: you don’t get to so much as take a shit around here unless I say you can. Do you understand?’
Greenbrooke unfolded the sheet of paper and quickly scanned the contents, before looking back up at Bramnik. ‘I can have this overturned,’ he snarled.
‘Knock yourself out,’ said Bramnik. ‘There are people right here on this island who owe Nadia Mirkowsky their lives, including members of the military detachment here. I don’t think you’d make yourself very popular with them if you took this any further. You can go now.’
‘This won’t be the last you hear of this,’ said Greenbrooke, trembling with anger. ‘I’ve been taking a very special interest in some of those high-flying associates of yours, Commander Bramnik. Particularly the Senator. You’ve had a smooth ride until now, but change is coming. Do you understand me?’
Bramnik looked as if he was fairly close to slugging Greenbrooke himself. Instead, he turned to the two soldiers still waiting outside the cell door and gave them their orders.
‘Escort Mr Beche out of here,’ he said, ‘and wait for me outside. Mr Beche,’ he added, addressing me for the first time. ‘You’re free to go. But I’d like it if you would be so kind as to wait outside until I can have a word with you.’
I nodded and squeezed past them all, then followed the two soldiers back down the corridor while a tumult of voices rose in my wake.
‘Goddammit,’ I heard Greenbrooke yell, ‘we need more men like Casey Vishnevsky. Real Americans.’
‘He’s Australian, you dumb piece of shit,’ I heard Bramnik bellow in response. ‘This project’s still under my control – can’t you get that through your thick goddam skull?’
The two soldiers escorting me came to a sudden halt just outside the entrance to the cell block, barring my way. I gave them a questioning look until one of them put a finger to his lips and nodded back the way we had come. It took me a moment to realize they wanted to hear what was said.
‘So how many failed missions have you had?’ I heard Greenbrooke shout in response. ‘How many accidents? Keep going the way you are, this whole project’s going to wind up in Patriot hands regardless, and the sooner the better, unless you start running a tighter ship and find some way to control your subversive elements!’
I caught the eye of one of the soldiers. ‘Who is that guy?’ I asked him, keeping my voice low. ‘Greenbrooke, I mean.’
‘Trouble,’ the soldier replied. ‘That’s all you need to know.’
I heard a door slam, and the soldiers suddenly sprang back into action, briskly guiding me around a corner and into the police station’s foyer.
Barely a second after I had sat down on a bench, Greenbrooke came charging out of the cell block, striding past without paying me the slightest heed. I watched as he continued straight out through the front entrance, his fellow Patriot agent hurrying to keep up.
Bramnik and his own companion were next to emerge, talking quietly with each other. ‘You two wait for me outside,’ Bramnik said to the two soldiers. They saluted and left. ‘Kip, I’ll be right out.’
Kip nodded and headed out into the sunshine. I remembered Nadia telling me Bramnik’s second-in-command was named Kip Mayer.
‘Some advice,’ Bramnik said to me once we were alone. ‘I like Nadia a lot. But she tends to be . . .’ He waggled a hand in the air. ‘. . . a little strong-willed at times – put it that way.’
I nodded, unsure what to say.
Bramnik took a seat beside me on the bench, legs splayed and hands locked together before him. ‘Just do us all a favour the next time anything like this happens while you’re around, and see if you can talk her out of making a bad situation worse. That’s all I ask.’
I looked round at him. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’
‘Shoot.’
‘Has anyone – I mean, any of the Pathfinders – been sent back to where they came from for screwing up? Has that ever happened?’
A furrow formed between Bramnik’s eyebrows. ‘Did Greenbrooke make some kind of threat?’
‘If you mean, did he offer to ship me straight back to my home parallel, then yes.’
Bramnik’s expression hardened and he stared out of the door to where we could see the two Patriot agents getting into a jeep.
‘I want you to understand something.’ Bramnik’s voice was taut with anger. ‘What I said back there is true. The Patriots don’t have any jurisdiction here. And we have never sent anyone “back where they came from”.’
I nodded, relieved. ‘What about Nadia and Rozalia? Aren’t you going to let them out?’
‘I already took care of that,’ said Bramnik. He stood. ‘What you and Miss Mirkowsky did yesterday was very brave, but it’s not easy for me to protect you unless you’re right here on the island. Anywhere else, and you’re technically out of my jurisdiction. Got that?’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll remember.’
Bramnik made for the door, beckoning to me to follow. We stepped outside, and I saw that Greenbrooke and his aide were gone. The two soldiers waited with Kip Mayer next to a parked BMW that looked like a well-preserved antique. I saw Yuichi waiting with them also, dressed in blue denim and scuffed cowboy boots, a bandana around his forehead.
‘Hey, jailbird,’ he said with a grin as I came up beside him. Bramnik meanwhile stepped over to Mayer, conferring quietly with him while the two soldiers got in the front of the BMW. ‘I hear they let you out early for good behaviour.’
‘What happened to Nadia and Rozalia?’
‘They’re over at the Hotel du Mauna Loa getting a late breakfast. Bramnik asked me to come fetch you.’
‘Commander Bramnik,’ I called past Yuichi’s shoulder. ‘Can I ask just one more question?’
Bramnik turned to look at me.
‘Why is it,’ I asked, ‘you don’t want us to know who the Authority are, or where they come from?’
Beside me, Yuichi had become completely still, as if he was holding his breath.
Bramnik’s expression, as he gazed back, was as solid and unmoving as any of the statues dotting the island. ‘We all deserve more answers than we can find, Mr Beche,’ he said finally, then climbed in the rear of the BMW. I watched as they drove away.
‘What the hell did that mean?’ I asked Yuichi.
‘Beats me,’ he said, reaching up to adjust his bandana. ‘Nice of them to offer us a lift back into town.’
‘None of this,’ I said, ‘needed to happen.’ I told him what Greenbrooke had said to me, about Nadia and Rozalia.
‘Of course it didn’t. The Authority folk are definitely on the conservative side when it comes to certain kinds of people. Like people of colour, atheists, women or lesbians. And Rosie in particular, God help her, ticks all four boxes.’
‘They’re like something out of a different era,’ I said. ‘Talking to them is like stepping into the past.’
‘Or a different universe?’ He batted me on the arm. ‘C’mon. Beans and grits on the menu today.’
‘How do you know?’ I asked, as we made our way in the direction of the dilapidated runway and the town beyond.
’It’s Saturday,’ he replied. ‘It’s always beans and grits on a Saturday. Didn’t you notice yet?’
&
nbsp; SIX
We passed a tumbledown gas station, the harbour on our left, before making our way down a broad, palm-lined street that led past the Hotel Miranda. The Authority’s civilian staff were housed here. Finally we reached the Hotel du Mauna Loa, which stood on a slight elevation in order to give long-gone tourists a better view of the ocean. Its front facade curved in a sinuous line, partly hidden behind bushes long grown wild and unkempt, and its lawns lush with tall grass and weeds.
A woman I hadn’t seen before came down the hotel steps, wearing cut-off jeans and a baseball shirt. She had shoulder-length brown hair, and petite features that made me think of what Audrey Hepburn might have looked like – if she’d had to survive alone in the wilderness for ten years. I didn’t have to be told she was another Pathfinder; I could see it just from the way she carried herself. Even so, there was a distracted look on her face, and she was almost upon us before she even realized we were there.
She came to a sudden halt and made a silent Oh, the way people do when they nearly collide with someone unexpectedly. Her eyes grew wide and round when they settled on me, and all the colour drained from her face.
‘Hello, Chloe,’ said Yuichi.
I watched her try and form words when she wasn’t darting confused glances at me. ‘I . . . hello,’ she finally stuttered. ‘I hadn’t. . . I . . . excuse me.’
She fled past us with such haste she nearly broke into a run.
‘What the hell was that about?’ I asked.
‘Maybe you should go on in first, get yourself something to eat,’ said Yuichi, his eyes tracking the fleeing woman. ‘I just remembered I need to talk to Chloe about something.’
‘She’s one of us, right? A Pathfinder?’
‘Got it in one.’ He raised his hand in a farewell gesture and hurried after Chloe, who was still retreating at speed. I stared after them both, wondering if I would ever understand the people here.
