by Gavin Smith
‘Something like that.’
Mudge looked down at my hand in hers and raised an eyebrow. She blushed again and let go. I glanced over at Rannu but he showed no reaction.
‘We could be forgiven for thinking that you’re just pissed off he so thoroughly kicked your arse,’ Mudge said, smiling.
‘It wasn’t that thorough,’ I muttered before turning to Rannu. ‘So you kick my arse and now you’ve turned over a new leaf and want to work with us.’ He shook his head. I noticed Pagan and Morag looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘What?’ I asked.
‘I decided while listening to Morag at Balor’s table,’ Rannu said. I just stared at him, trying to master the ability to talk again.
‘Before the fight!’ I shouted. Rannu nodded. I spent another couple of seconds speechless. ‘Then why the fuck was there a fight?’ I demanded.
‘Two reasons,’ Rannu said calmly. ‘The first was I don’t like not completing missions, so I needed to know I was capable of it, which I was.’
‘Hey, you’re in hospital too, pal.’
‘Yeah, but not because you pulled off his arm and beat him half to death,’ Mudge said, grinning. I glared at him. ‘Sorry.’
‘And the other?’ I asked.
‘To save Balor’s face,’ Pagan said. I didn’t get it. ‘If Rannu had joined us straight away then we would’ve been the only party responsible for bringing trouble down on New York and he would need to make an example out of us. With Rannu still apparently representing Rolleston, he could pit the two sides against each other and to his people he would still seem to be in control.’
‘I got made an example of!?’ I protested.
‘But we were in control of that,’ Pagan said. ‘Well, we were supposed to be,’ he said, glaring at Rannu.
Rannu shrugged. ‘I was upset when I lost my ancestral kukri.’
‘And you don’t think tearing my arm off and trying to beat me to death with it was an overreaction to a lost knife?’ I screamed at him.
Rannu considered this. ‘Not in context. I’m still upset about it.’
‘Looked good on the viz,’ Mudge said. The thing was, even if Rannu was on the level, and I was beginning to think he was, you just couldn’t walk away from the kind of violence that Rannu and I had done to each other. You can’t just shake hands and let bygones be bygones. Every time I looked at him my shoulder ached. I mulled this over. I didn’t like the way the others were looking at me, as if they were waiting for my approval. I decided to change the subject.
‘What were you saying to Balor about secrets?’ I asked Morag. She smiled slyly.
‘Something I found sifting through the data Ambassador stole when he got free. Balor cut a deal with the CIA to get left in peace in New York. He does a bit of work for them here and there, let’s them use New York when they need to. None of his people know and he wants to keep it that way.’ I could see why. His reputation was that of a free agent able to defy governments. I’d even heard him described as a one-man nation state.
‘And how’s God coming along?’ I asked. Pagan said nothing and just looked at Mudge.
‘Never fucking ends,’ Mudge said. I guessed he was referring to always being kept out of military briefings.
‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘If the Leicester Strangler over there is in and you’ve told Balor and probably half of New York, I don’t see why my mate should be excluded. I’ll vouch for him: he’s solid.’
‘He’s a journalist,’ Pagan said.
‘Whereas pirates and someone who you thought was working for Rolleston are trustworthy?’ Mudge asked, taking another swig from his bottle of vodka before offering it to Morag.
‘Different situation,’ Pagan said.
‘I think operational security’s a bit fucked,’ I said, watching with some amusement as Morag took a big swig of vodka.
‘Besides,’ Mudge said, taking the bottle back from a resistant Morag. ‘I know what you’re planning. Sounds fucking stupid to me, but don’t worry, you won’t have seen my byline on much recently.’
‘So now we’ve established that we’re all friends, how’s God coming along? Are we all saved yet? Can I go home and get drunk?’ Which reminded me. ‘Have you got my whisky?’ I asked Morag.
‘I drank it,’ Morag said apologetically.
‘All of it!’ I was coming to the conclusion that I preferred being unconscious. Judging by the way Rannu was glaring at me I might soon get the chance again. I wondered what his problem was now.
‘Balor helped,’ Morag said. ‘It was my birthday.’
‘Fucking Balor!’ I spat incredulously.
She shrugged and looked quite uncomfortable. ‘He’s kind of cute when you get to know him.’
‘Can we discuss boys later?’ Pagan asked. ‘In between Morag’s whisky binges we’ve made some good progress.’
‘You’ve been helping?’ I asked her. She nodded. Pagan looked uncomfortable. ‘How long?’ I asked Pagan.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I would hope sooner rather than later.’
‘Assume there won’t be a later,’ I suggested. ‘So what do we do?’
‘Balor says you can stay as long as you want,’ Mudge said.
‘Rolleston knows we’re here?’ I asked Rannu. The ex-Ghurkha nodded. ‘So why not just hit us with another orbital?’
‘The political fallout from Dundee was too heavy,’ Rannu answered. ‘He will not get access to another orbital strike.’
‘Besides,’ Mudge continued, ‘if he didn’t kill everyone he’d spend the next twenty years fighting terrorist insurgency from vengeful special forces types, and I think that Balor’s got an ASAT nuke somewhere. Basically it’s more trouble than it’s worth.’
An anti satellite nuke, a ground to orbital weapon, I gave this some thought. ‘Even Balor wouldn’t do that,’ I said.
‘He wants to burn brightly and be famous, of course he would,’ Mudge said. I saw Pagan nodding in agreement.
‘Conventional forces?’ I asked, already knowing the answer. Mudge let out a humourless laugh.
‘Nightmare scenario, heavily defended city with enough supplies and booby traps to fight an indefinite guerrilla war. Balor and his Fomorians could fight it from underwater, as could a lot of the other vets here. Again more trouble than it’s worth.’
‘Rolleston could buy us,’ I suggested.
‘Balor’s given his word,’ Pagan said.
‘Well that’s reassuring,’ I said sarcastically.
Mudge sighed. ‘Look, Balor’s unquestionably fucked in the head but he keeps his word. It’s one of the reasons he commands so much loyalty. You’re under his protection. He’ll die for you if he had to and do it smiling.’
‘Suddenly we have so many friends. So all we have to do is stay here and try not to get assassinated?’ Mudge and Pagan nodded. This was beginning to sound good to me. I could get drunk and wait for the Grey Lady to come in relative comfort. Maybe they even had some sense booths here. We couldn’t stop the Grey Lady; in fact I wondered why she hadn’t already killed us all. Then I remembered why we’d come to New York in the first place.
‘Why are you here?’ I asked Mudge as he lit up another cigarette. Morag stole it from him and I stole it from her before she could take a drag. Mudge lit another one and looked around at the assembled people. I sighed. ‘Have we not already decided that we are all friends?’ I asked.
Mudge shrugged. ‘Sure you want to hear this?’ he asked, the tip of his cigarette glowing as he took another drag.
‘No, but we’ve come a long way and nearly died twice doing so, so we might as well.’
‘I think Gregor’s still alive,’ he said. He took another drag on his cigarette and watched my expression. I suppose I’d known I was going to hear about Gregor but I guess deep down I’d assumed he was dead. Maybe it would’ve been easier that way because I wasn’t obligated to a dead man.
‘Where?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Wha
t makes you think he’s alive?’ I asked. The others were quiet.
‘Because Rolleston really wanted someone infected by a Ninja. After your trial I asked around, spoke to a couple of German guys who’d been in the KSK and a Delta operator. They’d both been working with squads taken out by a Ninja. In both cases the Ninja had left one of the members of the squad alive after somehow infecting them.’
‘Just like Gregor,’ I breathed. Mudge nodded.
‘In both cases Rolleston and the Grey Lady show up soon after, looking for the infected guys, but in both cases the infected guy was totally fragged when he was found. Neither Delta or KSK were taking any chances.’ Rolleston had wanted someone infected and that was why he’d dropped us in the mincer.
‘Why were they infecting people and then leaving them to be found? Germ warfare?’ I asked.
‘Most probably,’ Mudge said. ‘But who knows how they think?’ I couldn’t help but glance over at Morag when he said that. She didn’t notice but I felt Pagan looking at me.
‘So Rolleston’s got Gregor somewhere, infected by an alien germ?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know, maybe,’ Mudge said, taking another long pull from the bottle of vodka.
‘But you don’t know where he is?’ I asked.
‘Nope.’ I felt some relief. Even if MacDonald was alive it sounded unlikely that there would be any point in rescuing him; in fact it would make things worse. I was relieved that I was free of the obligation. In my head I could hear myself apologising to my absent friend. ‘But I think I know who does know,’ Mudge finished. I heard Pagan groan. I think he saw what was coming.
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘Everywhere Rolleston and Bran went looking for those infected by the Ninja they were flown—’
‘By two degenerate fuckwits,’ I finished for him, Gibby and Buck, the two cyberbilly Night Stalkers from the 160th SOAR. ‘You think they know where Gregor is?’
‘I think they would have transported him for Rolleston. It was what they were doing when we last saw them.’
‘Let’s just stay here, finish the job at hand and worry about this later,’ Pagan said in what I guessed he hoped was a reasonable-sounding voice. Truth be told it was a reasonable request, very reasonable, and I wholeheartedly agreed with him, but some things just aren’t reasonable.
‘Good idea,’ Mudge said.
‘You know where they are?’ I asked Mudge. He took another mouthful of the vodka. I wondered how drunk he was, how many bottles he’d had today.
‘Knew where they were,’ he said. ‘I was on their trail. Fully ready to beat what I wanted to know out of that pair of cunts when the Grey Lady caught up with me and made it perfectly clear that I should drop the matter.’
‘See, it’s old info. They’ll have moved on by now,’ Pagan pleaded.
‘Where are they?’ I asked. Thinking I’d like to have a violent little chat with them myself.
‘They deserted the 160th—’
‘They probably got killed by Rolleston,’ Pagan interrupted.
‘No, they definitely deserted. They made it to Crawling Town.’ Mudge upended the vodka bottle, draining the rest of it and tossing the bottle into a bin.
Crawling Town was a place as infamous as Balor’s New York. Well, not exactly a place; it was a city-sized, always-moving convoy made up of disparate gangs, road tribes and other disenfranchised people. They were left alone by the authorities because they travelled the Dead Roads, the line of heavily polluted and irradiated land that ran down the east side of the US from Lake Eerie to east Texas. An area considered largely uninhabitable by what passed for sane people these days. Pagan could see what I was thinking.
‘Have you not learnt?’ Pagan asked. I looked up at him.
‘You’re here now doing your thing. We need to do our thing, and we’ll go and do it whether you help or not. You’re safe now. Stay here, complete your little electronic god. Besides, New York seems to have worked out well for everyone but me.’ I didn’t add that it had worked out better than if we’d gone to Russia, but I think Pagan got the message.
‘You’re going out into the wasteland to chase a months-old lead to find someone who’s probably infected by something virulent and highly fucking dangerous. Will you listen to yourself?’ Pagan asked.
‘Yeah, we should stay here while you make God, because that’s more sensible,’ Mudge said. He sounded distracted. I think he was looking around for more booze. Pagan glared at him. Thing is. Pagan was right. The shots were too long, even for us. If we did find Gregor, chances are we’d just have to do him a favour and put a bullet through his head anyway.
‘Jakob, we need your help. We need your protection and we need you running interference for us. If the Grey Lady comes, you and Rannu are the best hope Morag and I have.’ It didn’t seem like much of a hope but I liked the way he’d emphasised that Morag needed me. Manipulative cunt. I looked at Mudge. He’d found another bottle from beneath my bed. He was watching me again, waiting for my response, his lenses moving in their sockets. I reached over and took the bottle from him.
‘You recording this?’ I asked him, and took a long swig of the vodka, enjoying it burn down my gullet.
‘Hell, yeah,’ Mudge was grinning.
‘Brilliant,’ Pagan muttered.
‘He’s right, you know?’ I said to Mudge.
Mudge nodded. ‘I know.’
‘Maybe we can do something if this works?’ I said, sounding pathetic even to myself. I tried to cover it by taking another long swig of vodka.
‘You going to give that back?’ Mudge asked. I held the bottle out to him but Morag took it. I suddenly noticed how flushed and nervous she looked. She took a long swig from the bottle.
‘You okay?’ I asked her. She nodded.
‘I think we should go to Crawling Town,’ she said. ‘And I don’t think your friend is diseased.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Pagan muttered.
‘What makes you say that?’ Mudge asked. Morag didn’t say anything.
‘This is bullshit,’ Pagan said.
‘Losing your religion?’ Mudge asked. Pagan glared at him.
‘Look, Morag,’ the old hacker began. ‘I know a lot has happened to you, and you think that you know—’
‘Don’t fucking patronise me,’ Morag said. That resolve of hers was back. I wished it wasn’t in this case. I didn’t want to go to Crawling Town. ‘He’s not infected. They were trying to communicate.’
‘How can you know that?’ Pagan asked, but I think we both knew the answer.
‘Just believe her,’ Rannu said. ‘I’ll go with you to Crawling Town,’ he added, sounding very formal. I looked over at him incredulously.
‘What the fuck’s it got to do with you?’ I demanded.
‘More the merrier,’ Mudge said. He’d taken the bottle of vodka from Morag and raised it to Rannu, who bowed.
‘Pagan, why don’t you stay and work on God? We’ll go. Balor will protect you,’ I said. He looked very uncomfortable with my suggestion.
‘I’ll come,’ he said finally.
That was when I realised two things. Pagan was happy when we were doing his insane things but not when we wanted to do ours. After all, going to Crawling Town wasn’t any madder than trying to make God, in fact probably less so, and if there was a chance we could help Gregor then I owed it to him. The other thing I realised was that Pagan really needed Morag’s help. That worried me.
‘This is insane,’ Pagan muttered again.
‘What is?’ A voice growled from the doorway. I looked up to see the massive and alien figure of our host standing in the entrance to the ward. He was dripping wet and leaving a trail of unpleasantly foul New York water behind him. He held Rannu’s kukri in his left hand. I think it was the first time I ever saw Rannu looking happy, but then again I hadn’t seen his face when he was beating me unconscious with my own arm.
‘You found it,’ he said, grinning. Balor walked over to the ex-Ghurkha’s bed. He d
idn’t smell very nice; only Mudge and Rannu seemed not to mind.
‘You deserved it back,’ Balor said.
‘He’s pretty much been searching for it non-stop for three days,’ Mudge said.
‘He’s got a lot of time on his hands then?’ I asked.
‘I think it’s sweet,’ Morag said. I wondered what the mischievous look was about as I tried to ignore a sudden surge of emotion I didn’t want to analyse too deeply.
‘I think it’s obsessive,’ Mudge suggested.
Balor stuck out a thick reptilian tongue that was sort of a bruised purple colour.
‘Very attractive,’ I muttered. Morag glared at me.
Balor ran the kukri blade across his tongue, drawing blood. All of us watched this in surprise.
‘Why?’ Mudge finally managed to ask.
‘Because the kukri cannot be put away before it’s bloodied,’ Balor said, blood dripping from his maw, and handed the curved knife back to Rannu. He seemed just as surprised as the rest of us.
‘It did draw blood - mine,’ I said.
Balor turned to me. ‘Do you feel more alive now?’ He seemed to be serious.
‘What, are you fucking mad? I just got near beat to death! Strangely that doesn’t make me feel more alive, just fucking sore!’ I shouted, sitting up in bed and getting pushed back gently by Mudge. Balor loomed over me, his face distorting with what I assumed was anger.
‘What did I tell you about respect in my house?’ he growled at me.
‘Oh, I respect you. As a fucking psycho!’ I spat before my sense of self-preservation kicked in. He considered what I said. I assumed he was just going to reach down and do something violent to me.
‘Good,’ he finally said, but not before I was covered in cold sweat. ‘You are all welcome, just tell me what you need.’ And he turned and walked out. I suddenly felt very tired, too tired. I realised I was crashing and crashing hard. I turned to look at Mudge. He was smiling at me.
‘You stimmed me?’ I asked. He nodded. I faded quickly. Like moving backwards quickly down a black tunnel. Further and further away from them all. The last thing I heard was Pagan berating Mudge for his irresponsibility.
