by Gary Gibson
Their plan worked, although Casey wasn’t able to get his hands on the briefcase at the time. Instead he returned to the Howler alternate a day or two later and hunted around until he found the abandoned case. He brought it back and gave it to Wallace who, when he next returned to the base compound to make use of the computers there, was able to gain root access to otherwise secure networks. There, he could find out which specific coordinates related to which alternates.
By the time Wallace told me all this, some hours had passed, and it was well into the early hours of the morning. I could see a hint of dawn light gleaming through a narrow gap between the window frame and the sheet of black card covering it.
I asked Wallace the next, obvious, question: if he and Casey had the means to leave forever, why hadn’t they done so already?
At about this time Wallace started to lose his nerve and didn’t want to talk any more, however much I promised him I’d help protect him from Casey and also from the Patriots. He was never a strong-willed man. I knew most of what he’d done had been at Casey’s instigation. But I could tell he was still holding something back – something that clearly terrified him.
When I pushed, the poor bastard actually started crying. Finally, he told me Casey had a new goal: he wanted to find a way to destroy the Authority. Literally to obliterate them, wipe them out of existence. Why, I didn’t know, but it seemed to have something to do with whatever Wallace found after he wormed his way inside all those encrypted files.
The idea that Casey wanted to do any such thing sent a chill through me, precisely because it was plausible, whatever the motivation. We’ve all seen any number of alternates where human life was extinguished by a staggering variety of extinction events. With your own private transfer stage, and access to enough of those worlds, you’d have no trouble tracking down something you could use to wipe out some other alternate. Including that of the Authority, should you happen to have access to their transfer coordinates.
By this point I was angry and frightened enough myself that I went over and slapped Wallace hard across the face, demanding he tell me the truth. He kept repeating again and again that Casey wanted revenge, but the stupid bastard kept refusing to tell me why.
If I’d just had more time, I know I could have got the truth out of him. But that’s when I heard someone hammering on Wallace’s front door, and Casey yelling my name. I near as damn jumped out of my skin.
My guess is that Casey had returned through the transfer stage hidden in the abandoned house and came looking for Wallace. He must have heard me shouting at Wallace when I lost my temper, or maybe he’d been listening in by the window for longer than that. Either way, the front door slammed open a second later, and Casey came charging in on us, gun drawn.
He told me to get out. I stood my ground and asked him why the hell I should. Casey was all keyed up, eyes filled with rage, and I wondered if he’d really shoot me as he was threatening to do. But if he did, someone would hear it, and there would be too many questions were I suddenly to disappear right there on the island. I could see from Casey’s face that he knew it as well as I did.
I gave Wallace one last look before I walked past Casey and back out of the house. I think, now that I’ve had time to consider it, than Wallace is frightened of Casey. Perhaps even more frightened of him than of the Patriots. Maybe if I’d had more time I could have persuaded Wallace to turn against him, to stop whatever it is he’s planning. But I knew all I needed to do was bide my time until Bramnik got back from the Authority and I could set the facts out for him. In the meantime, there would, I felt sure, be other opportunities to speak with Wallace, to try to persuade him to my side.
Eventually the date came when Bramnik had told me he’d back, except he never appeared. I made up an excuse to go and ask for him at the base compound and, as is often the case, I got nothing like a straight answer. Plus ça change, right?
So I figured I could wait if Bramnik was late getting back. Except he didn’t show up the next day, or the next. And at the time of writing, it’s been weeks, and still no word of when he’s getting back.
Worse, I haven’t seen sight or sound of either Casey or Wallace in all that time. The morning after confronting Wallace, I asked around and discovered that both he and Casey had been volunteered at short notice for a long-term mission.
I went looking for Casey’s portable transfer stage with an eye to packing it up, but they had been there already. It was gone, disappeared from that house.
I thought, then, about calling a meeting with the other Pathfinders to tell them what I knew. But at the same time I knew now that we would be going up against the Patriots. If they could make all this happen right under Bramnik’s nose, who knew what might happen to us if the Patriots decided we were a serious threat to them? Particularly when the man supposedly in charge of us was constantly absent from the island. Or maybe Greenbrooke had recruited moles other than Casey.
It was only yesterday that I finally realized that I had not in fact been nearly paranoid enough. Someone had been in our home, Chloe. They’d done a good job of hiding it, but I could tell. A couple of things weren’t quite where I’d left them. Some of my diaries weren’t in the right order; that’s when I knew that the Patriots were watching me, that Casey had told them I was a threat.
I came so close to telling you what I know, Chloe. But I couldn’t take the risk. It’s been so long now that I don’t know if Bramnik’s ever coming back, and who the hell knows who might end up in charge around here? The idea of Greenbrooke running things makes me break out in a sweat.
Yes, I thought about talking to Kip Mayer, except he hardly steps out of his office apart from trips back to the Authority, and every time he does that it’s a Patriot agent behind the wheel of the jeep. I took a chance anyway and went to the compound and asked to speak to Mayer, and as soon as she saw me the woman manning the desk got up and disappeared. I waited around for a minute or two, until a Patriot agent came out through the same door and asked me what I wanted.
That’s when I knew that Greenbrooke was just waiting for some excuse to get rid of me. I decided the best thing I could do was to find some mission that would take me away from everything for a good long while in the hope that this all blows over, or Bramnik comes back, whichever comes first. I know they’re watching me, and that means they’re watching you too. The farther away I am from you, the safer you are.
If you’re reading this, Chloe, you know that I love you. I never really felt alive until I came to this place and found you. This, I realize now, is my home.
Now maybe you understand why I had to go to such elaborate lengths to hide these pages. I still don’t know what Wallace might have been about to tell me that night, but if Casey really means to hurt the Authority, it’s going to be just as bad for us as it is for them.
If anything happens to me, and you find this, the rest is up to you and the others. Maybe I should have told you anyway; I don’t know. But I couldn’t ever bear the thought of you being hurt by them.
I put the last page down. Chloe was twisted around in her seat, staring towards the window and the ocean beyond. She glanced towards me, and hurriedly wiped at her eyes with one sleeve.
For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant when people said they’d had the wind knocked out of them. I felt like a deflated balloon, limp and empty, my mind reeling. The three of us just sat there for a good minute before I finally found the gumption to say anything.
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I guess that’s it. We’ll take all this to Bramnik and he can figure the rest of this whole mess out. I don’t think we’ll need to worry about the Patriots once the dust settles.’ I glanced towards the window and caught a glimpse of the moon shining dully through the storm clouds. ‘What time is it, anyway?’
‘Not much past midnight,’ said Rozalia. She blinked tiredly. The window rattled fiercely, gusting rain against the panes.
‘I don’t think that storm’s in any hurry to be
gone,’ she said.
‘We can wait it out,’ I said. ‘My mind’s whirling as it is.’ I nodded towards the stove. ‘Is there any coffee left?’
‘You can have it,’ said Chloe. ‘I think those pills are starting to wear off already. I’m going to try and sleep for a little while.’
She pulled herself to her feet and lay down on the narrow cot, her coat pulled up around her shoulders, much as she’d had it on the drive up. She closed her eyes, and within moments seemed to have slipped off into a deep sleep, her shoulders rising and falling with a steady rhythm.
Rozalia glanced at her, then back at me. ‘Hell of a lot for anyone to take in,’ she said quietly, and moved in closer to me. ‘So Casey wanted revenge. Any ideas why?’
‘Beats me,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should go and ask Wallace ourselves.’ I got up and poured myself some more coffee.
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said Rozalia. ‘Much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to feel some sympathy for Bramnik, if Greenbrooke’s gunning for him this hard.’
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry about taking my frustration out on you after Kip Mayer talked to us all at the Mauna Loa.’ I’d been more than a little upset over the revelations of domestic violence in my predecessor’s diary and had taken it out on Rozalia, believing the entries to be true.
She shook her head. ‘And more than a little hungover, maybe?’
‘Yeah.’ I scratched my chin, suddenly embarrassed. ‘That, too.’
Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. ‘You know, you weren’t entirely wrong in what you said. No apologies are necessary. You were right – we should have ignored the pencil-necks and just told you the damn truth at the start. I know I’m not the only one who regrets playing along with them.’
‘I’m sorry, anyway,’ I said. ‘I lost my temper.’
‘So would anyone, with the same information at hand.’ She cocked her head to one side and gave me a quizzical smile. ‘So we’re good, right?’
I nodded and sipped at the warm liquid, my own head buzzing from fatigue and caffeine. ‘We’re good,’ I said.
‘Then there’s one other thing I want to be clear about,’ she said. ‘I’ve got my own reasons for wanting to find Casey’s secret transfer stage. With Nadia gone, there’s no damn reason for me to stick around here any more, because that girl was the one thing that made life here bearable for me. If Casey’s really got hold of all of our retirement coordinates, then I’m out of here, the moment I have them. Are we clear on that too?’
‘We are,’ I said.
She nodded and I settled back in my chair, fatigue numbing my senses. I figured it wouldn’t hurt if I closed my eyes, just for one . . .
‘Hey.’
I came to with a start. Chloe stood over me, her coat still wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket.
I blinked and looked around, realizing I must have fallen asleep without being aware of it. Early morning light seeped in through the window, and I saw the storm had passed.
I sat forward, feeling stiff and tired and sore. ‘Rozalia?’ I asked, looking around. ‘Where . . . ?’
‘She just left to go fishing.’ I gave her a look and she laughed. ‘Seriously. There’s hooks and tackle and everything here.’
I glanced at the stove. ‘Maybe we should get that fired back up.’
‘Already done,’ said Chloe. ‘Can’t you feel the heat?’
She took hold of my hand and pulled me upright, leading me over towards the stove. I passed my hands over the top of the stove, feeling the delicious warmth soak into my skin. I heard the pop of wood burning.
‘Now come on,’ she said, pulling me back in the direction of the cot. ‘I don’t know how long we have before Rozalia gets back.’
‘What are you . . . ?’
‘The thing we’ve both been thinking about from the first moment we saw each other,’ she said, her voice low. She looked suddenly uncertain. ‘Unless I’ve been reading you wrong . . . ?’
‘No,’ I said, my voice thick. ‘No, you haven’t.’ First that inexplicable kiss, then the photograph in her home, of the other Jerry with his arm around her. Chloe had never been far from my thoughts, and I realized I had been fooling myself by thinking this moment was anything other than inevitable.
I glanced towards the door. ‘But what if Rozalia walks in?’
Chloe shook her head. ‘She won’t.’
Something in the way she said this made me certain that Rozalia’s sudden absence had been arranged, and that she would be careful not to return from her fishing trip too quickly. It was strange: I had known Chloe for only a short while, but she had known me – the other me – for years.
I moved in close to her and pressed my lips to hers, filled with a sudden and urgent hunger. I could feel my erection straining hard against my jeans even as she reached for my belt buckle. I slid my hands around the curve of her breasts beneath her thin T-shirt, then down to her hips, which pressed into me. She let out a small gasp, then ground her hips against mine.
Less than a minute later we fell, still struggling out of our clothes, onto the cot. She was right: I’d been thinking about such a moment for a long time. I finally wriggled free of my jeans, but Chloe pressed both hands against my chest, holding me back, even as I reached down to slide my fingers between her thighs. I felt her shudder in response.
Then, finally, she relented, her hands sliding around my back. Rozalia could have walked in at that moment and I wouldn’t have given a damn. But we were alone, and would be for some time, and I soon slid deep inside her warmth, her fingers kneading at my flesh as I pushed deeper and deeper inside her.
It’s hardly surprising I came as quickly as I did, given how very long it had been. I felt a surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me, but she kept stroking and massaging my back, kissing my neck and chest, whispering something to me I couldn’t make out. Then she held me tight, her hips still moving against mine, her body rigid in the moment before she gave out a single small cry. Then she relaxed beneath me, her chest rising and falling from her exertions.
‘Jerry,’ she said, and I saw her cheeks were damp again.
‘Well, lookee here,’ said Rozalia with a grin, when she came stamping back into the hut more than an hour later.
We had both got dressed again, and I had stoked up the flames and was already onto my second pot of coffee. Rozalia was carrying a line and rod, a couple of fat bream hanging from hooks. Her expression told me she was under no illusions about what had taken place during her absence.
‘Say,’ she said, holding her catch up high, ‘either of you gutted a fish before?’
I took the wheel of the jeep an hour later, my belly full of fish and coffee. The morning light was thin, and the day’s warmth had not yet arrived, and so I kept my jacket buttoned up to the neck. As we made our way back along the coast road, I caught sight of the beached trawler I’d seen on my first trip to the statues.
‘Christ,’ said Chloe, sitting beside me in the front passenger seat. She was staring off in the direction of the trawler herself. I glanced to the side and saw she was pressing the heels of both hands against her eyes. ‘I think I’m hallucinating from sheer fatigue.’
‘You need to get some proper rest,’ I said, squeezing her hand as I drove.
‘I was thinking,’ said Rozalia from behind us, ‘about what must have happened after Casey chased your predecessor out of Wallace’s place. Casey must have put the fear of God into Wallace.’
‘I was thinking that too,’ I said. ‘Wallace, according to my predecessor, was terrified of Casey.’
‘God damn,’ said Rozalia. ‘They must have killed Nadia. I’m sure of it. They must have known she had suspicions about the other Jerry’s death. They must have.’
‘What about the Patriots themselves?’ I suggested. ‘One of their own agents could have sabotaged the SUV that I was in with her and Oskar . . .’
Rozalia shot me an angry look. ‘You really believe that
after what you’ve just read? Who the hell else would Greenbrooke have got to do his dirty work but Wallace and Casey? Who else but those two would have known enough about how the bee-brains work to sabotage the SUV the way they did?’ She started to weep. ‘And when I think of all the times I saw them in the Hotel du Mauna Loa, acting like nothing was wrong, taking me for a fool because I didn’t know what they’d done . . .’
‘I guess you ought to know,’ I said to Chloe. ‘Rozalia and I took a trip back to the alternate where Nadia died. We no longer have any doubt that her death was anything but an accident.’ I filled her in on the details, her hand to her mouth the whole time.
‘We need to find Casey’s transfer stage,’ Chloe said quietly, once I had finished. ‘He can’t have taken it far. The island’s only so big, and there are only so many places to hide something like that.’
‘Hey,’ said Rozalia from behind us, a touch of alarm in her voice. ‘Look.’
The black bulk of Rano Kau rose up ahead on the island’s southernmost tip, the road curving to the west as it followed the coast towards town. I had been so deep in my own thoughts that I had failed to notice the thick pall of smoke rising above the rooftops and carried seawards by the wind.
‘It looks like it’s coming from somewhere near Wallace’s place,’ said Chloe, her voice tight.
She was right. I gripped the wheel hard and again remembered the look on Casey’s face when we had stood together in Wallace’s bedroom, his eyes on the half-coin in my open hand. In that moment I felt sure he had acted decisively in order to keep us from interfering with the plans Wallace had tried to warn my predecessor about.
NINETEEN
There wasn’t much left of Wallace’s house. It must have been a hell of a blaze, I thought, breathing shallowly to avoid taking in too much smoke.
I pulled the jeep up across the street from where Wallace’s place had been. The air was thick with ash, and I had the feeling that the rain had probably done most of the work of putting out the flames.
