The anchor stopped for a moment to talk to the camera but there was no audio. Her mouth was moving and Helena asked her AI to lip read, but before it had time, they were back in the studio.
“Sorry about that, we’ve just heard that the explosion was accompanied by a substantial electromagnetic pulse. More reports are coming in; we can confirm at least ten dead, although the number of casualties could be as high as three or four hundred. Stay with us.”
Helena muted the screen. They didn’t know anything: guesses heaped upon speculation. The world may have ended, everyone seems to have died, we’ll be right back when someone’s actually bothered to check the facts, she thought.
Jane’s on her way, said her AI.
Oh! Suddenly she didn’t want to be in when Jane arrived. She could not face keeping up any pretence with Jane. She was betrayed and bruised by Jane’s scheming. At best her friend was uncomfortably eccentric but at worst she could only guess that her friend’s behaviour would be traced back to members of Euros. Were they seeking the rogue operatives for their own ends or was Jane sent to spy on her? Had they already spotted her connection?
She’s from a minor Family, thought Helena. She’d probably welcome the chance for the patronage of a larger Family if all that’s required to obtain it was a little bit of observation. The more Helena thought about it, the more she realised she was in no place to deal with Jane.
At what point did she think breaking into my flat was a good idea?
What she needed right then was a hot drink, preferably with a stimulant in it; Taurine seemed like a good idea.
There was a cafe fifteen levels down, floor sixty-seven. It was far enough away for her not to be found by accident. Jane wouldn’t know to look there.
Helena grabbed a jacket, changed her hair to teak from her normal platinum, shaded her eyes emerald and left the flat.
HEADS UP, said Helena’s AI.
“Mind if I join you?” Helena recognised the voice and looked up. It was her detective from earlier in the evening. She shrugged. Steam rose lazily from the coffee she was nursing.
David was good looking in an off-beat way; his features were hardly symmetrical but that made them endearing. His nose was bent slightly to the right and his lips, although full, were set in an expression of unconscious disapproval.
Physical nonconformity probably allows him to mingle with Normals more easily, she thought.
“Thought you might like some company,” said the detective softly. Helena looked at him as if to say ‘oh really’. She had been fine, occasionally letting her Tertiary AI wirelessly tune into the news reports. Half an hour after the explosion, all that was clear was that the death toll would be greater than first estimated, and it appeared to have nothing to do with either Euros or Indexiv. Both had made public statements to the effect that they were not involved and would not consider bringing their conflict into the European Economic Zone.
He nodded towards one of the windows, “I wonder what happened there?”
Helena shrugged again.
“Yes I can imagine you’d be indifferent right now,” said Chalmers knowingly.
“What is that supposed to mean, detective?” asked Helena sharply. She didn’t like his familiarity.
The cafe was fifteen floors lower down the building than her apartment but it was still a salubrious neighbourhood. There were a couple of other Family members across the room but no Normals except for the two baristas. Chalmers could afford to be informal.
“Just that after having an acquaintance sliced apart on your doorstep it’s only natural to feel a bit disconnected.”
Helena eyed him quietly; his nonchalance was annoying her.
“After all, what’s the bombing of the Trade Centre compared to the intimate violence visited upon you this evening?”
Helena listened carefully; no one was near enough to have overheard his comment. Before replying, she glanced round the room to make sure.
After watching him for a moment Helena said, “Euros and Indexiv have both denied any involvement. Besides, it would be a stupid move on their part if they did instigate it. What have they got to gain from bombing a neutral trade zone? As far as I can make out they could only lose. There is no profit in losing.”
“I agree,” was all he said.
He turned away slightly and looked out of the window.
Helena waited for him to say something more. Her AI refused to comment, saying that she was smart enough to work it out herself. Helena tried to quell her sudden irritation with her AI for long enough to think about what the detective was trying to say.
“Are you involved?”
He laughed to himself, just once, looking up to acknowledge his coffee being delivered to the table. “We’re all involved aren’t we?”
“Don’t be facile Mr Chalmers,” said Helena.
“I wasn’t.” He sniffed the coffee cautiously. “Perhaps my perspective is slightly different to yours.” Bringing it to his mouth he let his lips hover at the edge of the mug, drew in a breath or two, and then replaced his drink on the table. “Too hot; I sometimes think I’m too fussy, wanting things to be exactly right before I’ll accept them.”
Oh very subtle, said her AI.
“I’m sure,” said Helena.
“So then Ms Woolf, why are you here?”
“How abstract,” said Helena, avoiding his question.
“Indeed. Do you have an answer, or was it metaphysical whimsy that brought you here when there’s a cafe on floor 71 and a food hall on floor 90?”
Helena shrugged, “I’ve always appreciated the out of the way feel to the place … that, and I enjoy the view.”
Chalmers briefly looked at the window, shook his head slightly. “You’d think we could make buildings strong enough to withstand home-made explosives wouldn’t you. Seems silly how even organic polymers and metals simply can’t take the forces unleashed in an explosion. I’m always amazed at that.”
He turned to Helena again. “You know, I’ve seen pictures of this city before us, before the Families. My grandfather had a whole library of them. He insisted on printing them out, hanging them, cataloguing them. We, my family that is, always thought him a bit of a fool Ms. Woolf. I’ve come to realise lately that maybe he had a reason for doing what he did after all.”
Helena let him speak, to deflect him now would do her no good, he would get to his point in his own time regardless of her interference. She felt resigned to hearing him out, if only to avoid Jane. Jane would not give up on her simply because she wasn’t home: especially if there was something more going on behind her actions.
Your interface with the Cloud is active, whispered her AI. She asked her AI to disconnect her from the Cloud completely. She could live without news if it meant she remained hidden from prying eyes.
“Something wrong?” asked the detective.
“Nothing.”
“Oh, seemed like you’d remembered something. Actually, it looked like you’d remembered something you’d forgotten to do,” said Chalmers thoughtfully.
“I’m fine now thank you,” said Helena. “You were saying?”
“Little of consequence,” said Chalmers, watching her face casually.
“Your grandfather I believe,” said Helena.
“Ah, yes,” he sounded interested which was not the reaction what she expected. “Well I think he wanted to remind us that we aren’t truly immortal: that we shan’t live forever.”
“Oh,” said Helena.
“You see, if we were properly immortal, like the Normals think angels are, then we would have been born at the beginning of the Universe, in the twinkling moments of the big bang. As it stands now, well, we’ve missed most of the good stuff. I think he felt it, the profound lateness at which we found our longevity. Like partygoers stumbling in as the lights are switched off and the chairs put away.
“The photos were simple things, celluloid. They decayed obviously, but they reminded him not to think too highly of him
self when he had every reason to.”
Helena was barely paying attention.
“Like the explosion over there,” Chalmers took a sip of coffee and sighed. “You see, when those photos were taken, nothing rose above fifty floors in this city, a couple of large towers maybe, but nothing more. They didn’t have the materials, nor the technology, to design the everyday things we take for granted as we look out this window. Yet for all our superiority I suspect the investigators assigned to root out the cause, will, probably by tomorrow morning, find that it was done using an explosive not manufactured in more than a century.”
Helena was listening now.
“How do you know that?” She asked quietly.
He shook his head, “Know it? I don’t know it, just a suspicion I have. Frankly, I’ve got more than a few of them. Guess it’s the job.” He looked down at his drink. “Ah, my coffee should be ready just about now.” He picked up his cup and froze. Turning his head as if listening for something he put the cup back down.
“It’s time to leave.”
“Well, thank you for your histories, goodbye Mr Chalmers.” Helena was intrigued enough to watch him go but he looked at her as if she were dumb. “No, it’s time for us to leave.”
She shook her head and snorted. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere, I happen to be very comfortable right here.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he caught her eye and she saw something there: emotion. He had let go of his control, was showing her who he was beneath the professional facade. What she saw, before smelling it moments later, was his fear: for her.
I’m working on it, said her AI, before she could ask it to predict what was going on.
“Look, I’m not the sort of man to leave my coffee when it’s at the perfect temperature, but some things are more important than luxury.”
Still she hesitated.
“Not to the department, nowhere official: my block, my flat, somewhere safe.”
“Depends who you ask I’m sure,” said Helena lightly.
“Away from Indexiv? Not tonight.”
The mention of Indexiv made her stand up. Jane would be waiting at home anyway, and once she was in, she’d insist on staying the night.
“Come on,” said Chalmers, walking away from her.
Her AI swung it in the end. He has no known connection with Jane. He is truly frightened. Whatever thoughts he’s entertaining he is highly unlikely to be aware of what you do or who Arken actually was. He is therefore to be trusted over your Family and Jane.
Helena took a breath and followed him from the cafe.
He’s still Euros, she said, but she wasn’t sure she had anywhere else to go.
“If I come with you, you have to agree to tell me why I’m doing this,” she said when she caught up with him by the exit.
“Why you’re doing this? I was hoping someone would explain why I’m doing this,” said Chalmers.
THE DETECTIVE’S FLAT WAS SHOEBOX LIKE. There were three small bedrooms. Helena looked round in dismay at the mess littering his surfaces and floors.
He said that she could have one of the spare ones, “Feel free to have a nose around.”
Helena took him at his word, but what she saw only cemented her sense of dirt. He hadn’t invested in nanotechnology to keep the sheets clean, and it was obvious they had not been removed for some weeks even if they hadn’t been slept in.
The smell was stale, of air that hadn’t seen the outside in a long time. Wrinkling her nose, she returned to his dining kitchen.
Why has he accepted a place so meagre when he’s a Family member and could, no doubt, find himself something more fitting?
She noted, with a twinge of jealousy, that since he was only on the 21st floor he had the luxury of windows with hinges. She tried opening one only for him to say, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
She kept pushing. Eventually the window gave way and cracked open. She breathed deeply through her nose and immediately regretted it. A rank grey metallic smell flooded the room through the window. She had no idea what it was but, holding her breath and turning her face from the window, she tried to pull it to. It resisted her again, but finally, with a determined yank, she shut it.
Chalmers was laughing at her face, “I did warn you. It’s not quite central London here.”
“What is that smell?” asked Helena, used to the idea that every surface, every substance, every part of the atmosphere was crawling with nanomachines whose sole purpose was to keep things tidy, fragrant and clean. Even Southern Africa hadn’t approached the thick taste of ash.
“That? It’s a nanoparticle plant, about a hundred yards from here, as the crow flies. What you can smell is the effluent that runs off the production process.” He got up and, coming to the window, pointed out a large complex in the gloom. “At any time they’ve got two days’ worth of settling chemicals being devoured by nanobots. The by-products are methane derivatives and sulphur. Don’t worry, if it was concentrated enough to be dangerous you wouldn’t have been able to smell it.”
He walked back to the kitchen work surface where he had some papers spread out in front of him.
“So I take it the smell’s your photograph collection?” said Helena.
“No. This place, this area, is my muse. She helps me think, inspires me to understand them.” He looked up from the stool where he was perched like a crow. “So then Ms. Woolf, tell me about yourself.”
“Like what?” Helena felt she was about to be interviewed.
“Oh I don’t know, like what you’re most proud of.”
“Closing the water distribution deal on Mars: learning three languages without the aid of my AI; successfully moving divisions.”
“Surviving Southern Africa?” asked Chalmers dryly, interrupting her. She frowned, feeling attacked.
“Sorry,” said the detective quickly, seeing his jibe dig deeper than he’d expected.
“Fine,” said Helena shortly. “Why are you so interested? What do you think you can get from me?”
Chalmers shrugged, “Only what the murderer was looking for. I mean you must have guessed by now that that’s why I invited you back to my mansion.” She smiled despite herself.
“No one had been into my flat,” she replied. He watched her for a moment and continued.
“I never said they had, but they were about to when we left your block. Whoever it was that murdered your friend Arken returned whilst we were in the cafe. I felt that anyone so interested in your home would be interested in you as well, and took the liberty of asking you into safe custody.”
Jane, thought Helena.
Don’t be so hasty, said her AI. With the disaster tonight she won’t be able to make it across the city in such a short period of time.
“Then who?” she asked in response.
He knows more than he’s told you, was the reply.
I know that, thought Helena.
“Are you sure you’re OK?” asked Chalmers.
“Fine,” said Helena coming back to him.
“It’s just that I’ve noticed you disappear into your own head a few times tonight and I wondered.” He left it at that, but it was clear he believed she was in shock. Helena wondered how bad her mind had got if she could drift off noticeably.
“I am fine. I was simply thinking over who it could have been.”
“Oh,” said the detective, looking surprised. “You’ve an idea then?”
She shook her head and smiled, “I didn’t mean that.”
He slumped back a bit. “No I suppose not. In case you were wondering, I called the security company charged with watching your building and linked into the camera in your corridor.”
“Well done,” said Helena. That wasn’t much of a surprise.
“Thank you,” said Chalmers, ignoring her sarcasm. “When the blur that was responsible for Arken’s death reappeared I thought it time to leave. Whoever it was did not seem likely to have your best interests at heart.”
&n
bsp; “That’s very thoughtful of you,” said Helena.
“The reason I asked you here is because access to the technology required to blur someone’s form so completely can only implicate Company connections.” He sighed. “Times are not what they were Ms Woolf, the Corporations are wary and suspicious.”
“It’s nothing new, believe me,” said Helena wryly.
“No, perhaps not, but it is something coldly unforgiving. I have no authority over Indexiv and sometimes not even over those who work for Euros, and if our Company is upset with you then you’re on your own.”
His arrogance angered her. “Then why waste everyone’s time in keeping me alive?”
“I have an investigation to conclude, a murderer to find, or at least explain. Henry Arken was not employed by Euros directly, but he does fall under my remit. Besides…”
Helena waited for him to continue. He was silent, thinking about something: Arken’s links with Euros and why someone might be hunting him. Helena felt suddenly that she was wasting her time here. She could have apprehended Jane and cleared a mole from the team, as well as reporting that Arken had been located and murdered by elements sympathetic to enemy concerns.
Unless it was your Uncle, retorted her AI, remember why you hesitated in the first place.
She thought of those who were dying each day as she sat and tried to figure out who Euros and Indexiv were desperately searching for. These few people who held the fate of millions in their hands.
Chalmers turned to the only blank wall in the flat. It blinked into life and offered up a short menu. He whizzed through it too quickly for Helena to follow, found what he was searching for and opened the file.
A picture flashed onto the screen; Denholme.
“I believe you know him?” said the detective.
“He was my pilot for a brief period of time,” said Helena, stunned. How and why was Denholme staring back at her now?
This should be good, said her AI. It dawned on her what the detective was trying to get at.
“You think he’s responsible for the murder?”
“Him? No,” said Chalmers dismissively.
“Then you think he’s behind the explosion tonight?”
A Family War: The Oligarchy - Book 1 Page 25
