Yoyo protested. He had to come along!
Jericho hesitated. He had basically made up his mind to go back to the hotel, but all of a sudden he felt like giving in. When she protested, some previously undiscovered reserve battery had flooded his system with energy. It felt like extra oil in his tank, a warm feeling around the ribcage.
‘Well, to be honest I really ought to—’ he said, for form’s sake.
‘Okay. See you later then.’
The battery spluttered and died. The world snapped back into the unending winter of his teenage years, when he had only ever been invited to parties so that people could say afterwards that they hadn’t forgotten him. It flashed through his mind that Yoyo would have plenty of fun without him, just as everybody else had been able to have plenty of fun without him back then.
How he had hated his youth.
‘Well?’ she asked, her eyes cold.
‘Have fun,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
* * *
Later turned out to mean after he had done absolutely none of the things that he had gone back to the hotel to do. He lay there wondering where he had taken that wrong turn in life, why he always ended up where he least wanted to be, as one did in a nightmare. He was like a traveller standing at the luggage carousel waiting for a lost suitcase, while it was probably being auctioned off somewhere at the other end of the world; he waited and waited, and the certainty crept over him that maybe all he would ever do in life would be to wait.
About two o’clock he was half watching a botched 3D remake of Tarantino’s classic Kill Bill when there was a shy knock at his door. He climbed to his feet, opened the door and saw Yoyo standing in the hallway.
‘Can I come in?’ she asked.
Automatically, he looked at the digital clock on his video wall.
‘Thanks.’ She shoved past him and came into his room, not quite steady on her feet. ‘I know how late it is.’
Her eyes were as sad as a dog’s. A cigarette between her fingers sent up its curls of smoke, and she’d evidently had a good deal to drink. By the look of her, they’d even run into a minor tornado somewhere on their adventures, which had left her rumpled. Jericho rather doubted that she’d had fun that evening after all.
‘What are you doing right now?’ she asked inquisitively. ‘Got a lot of work done?’
‘Not bad.’
There would have been no point telling her that he had spent the last few hours wrestling with his inner eighteen-year-old. ‘And you? Had a good time?’
‘Oh, fantastic!’ She spread out her arms and spun about, so that Jericho suddenly he felt he should hurry to catch her. ‘We ended up in some karaoke bar that was playing pure shit, but Tu and I managed to liven up the joint all the same.’
He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘You sang?’
‘And how.’ Yoyo giggled. ‘Tian doesn’t know even one line of lyrics, and I know them all backwards. A couple of guys hanging around there told us we should come along to a gig in a club. Some band called Tokyo Hotel. I thought they’d be Japanese! But they were German, old guys, dinosaurs of rock.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Yes, but I had to go and pee after half an hour, and I couldn’t find the loo anywhere. So we had to go in the bushes, and then on to the next pub that was still open. No idea where that was.’
She fell quiet all of a sudden, and slumped down onto the edge of the bed next to him.
‘And?’ he asked.
‘Hmm. Tian told me something. Do you want to know what?’
Suddenly he was seized by the idiotic notion of kissing her and finding out what Tu had said that way, simply sucking the knowledge out of her. Drunk and dishevelled as she was, pasty and drawn, she seemed lovelier than ever. He felt it briefly in his loins and then straight away felt the pain of knowing that Yoyo had come here to talk.
He stared at Diane, sitting there cool and sexless. Yoyo looked down and sucked the last life from her cigarette.
‘I’d like to tell you, you know.’
‘Okaaay,’ Jericho said, drawing out the word. He was turning her down flat and there was no way she couldn’t know it.
‘Well only if you’re not—’ She hesitated.
‘What?’
‘Maybe it is a bit late though. Is it?’
No, it’s just the right moment, the adult man in his head shouted, but he was on autopilot now, frustration and misery had taken charge and were consummately giving Yoyo the cold shoulder. They looked at one another across an emotional Grand Canyon.
‘Well then – I probably ought to go.’
‘Sleep tight,’ he heard himself say.
She got to her feet. Jericho was baffled by his own behaviour, but did nothing to stop her going. She paused for a moment, drifted indecisively over to the computer and then back again.
‘We might hate it now but some day we’ll look back on this time of life and we’ll love it,’ she said, suddenly speaking clearly. ‘Some day we’ll have to make peace, or we’ll go mad.’
‘You’re twenty-five years old,’ Jericho said, tired. ‘You can make peace with whoever you please.’
‘What the hell do you know?’ she muttered and ran from the room.
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
She felt like a Dobermann chained up in front of a butcher’s shop. Loreena Keowa couldn’t think of any other way to describe it; her instinct had taken her straight to Beijing, to the conference which had led to Alejandro Ruiz vanishing so completely. She had caught the scent, she was just about to bite, she could sink her teeth into it, and now Susan wanted to talk. Why? What about? Sina couldn’t give her any more help for now, because Susan Hudsucker had reservations. What a pointless waste of time and of opportunity! Loreena didn’t doubt for a second that the reason for Ruiz’s disappearance would become clear as day if only she knew what the conference had been about, and that the mystery of the attempt on Palstein’s life would be solved at the same time. She was so close!
And now Susan wanted to talk.
Listlessly, she typed a couple of sentences into the Trash of the Titans script on her laptop. Strictly speaking, she didn’t even need Sina’s help. Sitting here in Calgary, she could access the databases at Vancouver headquarters just as easily as she could reach her own computer back home in Juneau. If she wanted, she could be headquarters. She could have searched the network off her own bat. All that was keeping her playing by the rules was respect, and the fact that so far Susan Hudsucker had always covered her back when it came to it. So she was planning to bring the chief a good, well-researched treatment – for Trash of the Titans, part 1: The Beginnings – to sweeten her up before she wooed her over to her cause, setting out the facts that would force her to make Palstein a priority.
Loreena shut her laptop. She caught the eye of the Chinese waiter killing time behind the bar polishing glasses, and held up her empty glass to let him know that she wanted another Labatt Blue. It was oppressively empty here in the Keg Steak-house and Bar at the Calgary Westin hotel. She was looking forward to a grilled salmon and a Caesar salad, and impatient for the intern to arrive. She was more and more cautious about eating with him, mind you, since she was afraid he could well explode, showering her with the vast quantities of sausage, steak and scrambled eggs she had seen him shovel down in the past few days. On the other hand, the kid was good at what he did. He’d certainly have some information for her, when he did turn up.
The waiter brought her beer. Loreena was just about to take a sip when her phone rang.
‘Good evening, Shax’ saani Keek,’ said Gerald Palstein.
‘Oh, Gerald,’ she replied, pleased. ‘How are you? Quite a coincidence you should call, we’re just busy right now with your friend Gudmundsson. Have you slung him out yet?’
‘Loreena—’
‘Maybe we should keep an eye on him for a while first.’
‘Loreena, he’s disappeared.’
It took Loreena a moment to realise what Palst
ein had just said. She stood up, took her beer, left the bar and found a private spot in the lobby.
‘Gudmundsson has disappeared?’ she asked, keeping her voice down.
‘Him, and all his team,’ said Palstein, looking worried. ‘Since today noon. Nobody knows where. Eagle Eye can’t reach him at any of his numbers, but I learned that one of your people had called them and had been asking about him.’
Loreena hesitated. ‘If I’m going to find out who shot you, there’s no getting past Gudmundsson.’
‘I’m not sure we still have a deal.’
‘One moment!’ she yelped. ‘Just because—’
‘No, you listen to me a moment, will you? You’re not a professional investigator, Loreena. Don’t get me wrong, I’m deeply indebted to you. I’d never have known otherwise that Gudmundsson was working against me! Believe me, I’ll do everything I can to support your ecological reporting, that’s one promise I will keep, but from now on in you should leave all this detective work to the police.’
‘Gerald—’
‘No.’ Palstein shook his head. ‘They’ve got you in their sights. Get out of their cross-hairs, Loreena – these are people who kill to get what they want.’
‘Gerald, have you ever wondered why you’re still alive?’
‘I was stupidly lucky, that’s all.’
‘No, I mean why you’re still alive. Perhaps it was never even about killing you. Perhaps you’d be alive now even if you hadn’t stumbled on the podium like that.’
‘Do you mean—’
‘Or perhaps they couldn’t care either way. Think about it! Gudmundsson could have taken pot-shots at you a thousand times over by now, but instead you’re running around without a care. I’m sure that the attack was simply intended to get you out of the way for a while.’
‘Hmm.’
‘All right, one small correction,’ she added. ‘If you hadn’t stumbled, that bullet would have hit you in the head. But everything else is right, it has to be. Somebody wanted to stop you from doing something. My guess is stop you from flying to the Moon with Orley. And that worked, so why should they kill you now? Could be that Alejandro Ruiz wasn’t so lucky—’
‘Ruiz?’
‘Strategic director at Repsol.’
‘Slow down, my head’s spinning. I really can’t see any connection between myself and Ruiz.’
‘I can though,’ she breathed, looking around to see whether anyone was within earshot. ‘My God, Gerald! You’re the strategic director of a company that has spent pretty nearly its whole existence doing exactly what you didn’t want it to do. It was only when everything was far too late and it was all going downhill that they gave you the power to do anything, and there’s hardly anything you can do. This is exactly how it was with Ruiz! He was a voice of conscience, he fouled their nest and got on their nerves. He kept up the pressure on Repsol to get into solar power, he wanted a partnership with Orley Enterprises just like you did! He was talking to a brick wall there. And all of a sudden, when the ship’s already sinking, they make him strategic director. You and Ruiz both spent years arguing for a stake in alternative energy, you’re ignored and then put on the throne, one of you gets shot, the other one disappears in Lima, and you don’t see a connection?’
Palstein didn’t answer.
‘On 1 September 2022,’ Loreena went on, ‘the day before he flew to Lima, Ruiz took part in a mysterious conference somewhere near Beijing. Something must have happened there. Something that shook him so badly that his own wife barely recognised his voice. Does that ring any bells?’
‘Yes. Warning bells.’
‘And what does that tell you?’
‘That you’re in danger. When you tell me all this, I actually think your suspicions are right. We can’t ignore parallels like this.’
‘There you have it.’
‘And that’s exactly why I’m worried.’ Palstein shook his head. ‘Please, Loreena. I don’t want you to come to any harm because of me—’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘You’ll be careful?’ He laughed harshly. ‘I was duped by my own bodyguard, and believe me, I was careful! Are you going to leave the detective work to the—’
‘No, Gerald,’ she pleaded. ‘Twenty-four hours, give me twenty-four hours – every good thriller gives the detective twenty-four hours! I’m flying to Vancouver first thing tomorrow morning, then the whole thing goes up to boardroom level. All of Greenwatch will be working on the story. Tomorrow night I’ll know what the conference was about, who Gudmundsson is really working for, and if I don’t, I swear to you we’ll bring the police on board. That’s my promise to you, but give me that much time.’
Palstein looked at her with his sad eyes, and sighed.
‘All right then. How many people have you shown those photographs to, of Gudmundsson and the Asian guy?’
‘A few. Nobody recognises Fatty.’
‘And this business with Ruiz?’
‘Three, maybe four people know about it. I’m the only one who knows everything.’
‘Then do at least this much for me. Keep it that way until you land in Vancouver. In the meantime, don’t go lifting up any more rocks.’
‘Hmm. Okay.’
‘Promise?’ he asked, doubtful.
‘Honest Injun. You know what that means, for me.’
‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘Shax’ saani Keek.’
‘Take care of yourself, Gerald.’
‘And call me when you get to Vancouver.’
‘I will do. First thing.’
She hung up. The picture of Palstein faded out. Somewhat surprised, Loreena discovered that she found him oddly attractive, even if he was melancholic, in love with mathematics in that abstract way of his, a man who listened to weird music by dead avant-garde composers. On top of all which, he was shorter than her, a trim little man, almost skinny, losing his hair, the exact opposite of the broad-shouldered masculine type she usually went for. He had regular features, but they weren’t especially striking; there was just something reassuring in his dark velvet eyes. She was back in the bar, still looking thoughtfully at the blank screen, when the chair across from her scraped noisily back.
‘I’m dying of hunger here,’ said the intern. ‘Where’s the menu?’
She put her phone away. ‘I hope you’ve been busy. Steaks for information. One to one.’
‘Should be enough here for a kilo of T-bone.’ He spread out a dozen sheets of paper in front of himself. ‘All right, watch this. I called Eagle Eye, the security company that provided Palstein’s bodyguard. Dished them up a story about a journalist in peril, working on a sensitive story, needs protection, told them you’d just recently met Gudmundsson, Palstein had told you a lot of good things about him, yadda yadda yadda. They told me that Gudmundsson’s a freelance and fairly busy keeping an eye on the oilman, so they’d have to see whether he still had any spare capacity, if not, they could put together a tailor-made team for you. By the way, they knew about you.’
Loreena raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh yes?’
‘From the web. Your reportage. They were pretty taken with the idea of protecting Loreena Keowa.’
‘Flattering. Do they use a lot of freelancers?’
‘Almost exclusively. Half of them are ex-police, the others are a mix of Navy SEALs, Army Rangers and Green Berets, some of them were mercenaries, active right round the world. Then they use ex-Secret Service agents for logistics and information operations, they prefer CIA, Mossad or the Germans. They tell me that the Bundesnachrichtendienst have excellent contacts, and the Israelis of course, but sometimes they even get guys from the KGB wandering into Eagle Eye, even Chinese or Koreans. If you ask, they’ll give you the CV of any of their agents. They don’t keep these things secret, quite the opposite! The career histories are part of their reputation.’
‘And Gudmundsson?’
‘He’s half Icelandic, hence the name. Grew up in Washington. Ex-Navy SEAL, trained as a sniper, he’s go
t his hands dirty, you could say. When he was twenty-five he joined a mercenary army, Mamba.’
‘Never heard of them.’
‘They were operating in Kenya and Nigeria at the beginning of the century. Then he went on to a similar operation in West Africa called African Protection Services, APS for short.’
‘Hmm. Africa.’
‘Yes, but he’s been back in the States for five years now. He offers his expertise to private security companies, Eagle Eye and others, usually as project manager.’
Loreena thought it over. Africa? Was it important where Gudmundsson had worked before? What was certain was that he had betrayed one of his employer’s clients. She couldn’t rule out that Eagle Eye was involved there, but nor could she assume that that was the case. It was a well-respected company and their services were used by a lot of well-known figures. Interesting that Eagle Eye was already employing Gudmundsson at the time Ruiz disappeared. So what had Gudmundsson been doing on the night of the second to the third of September 2022? Where had he been the night Ruiz went missing? In Peru, perhaps?
‘Was that all?’ she asked. ‘Nothing else?’
‘Hey, come on there, that’s not bad.’
‘Might be enough for a roast potato.’ She grinned. ‘Okay, okay! And a couple of spare ribs.’
30 May 2025
MEMORY CRYSTAL
Berlin, Germany
Exobiologists had come up with scenarios for extraterrestrial life where you would least expect it. Weird forms of life thrived in volcanic vents, braved oceans of sulphur and ammonia, sprouted under the icy crust of frozen moons or glided with splendid lethargy through the banded skies of Jupiter, giant creatures with wings like manta rays, buoyed up by hydrogen in their body cavities that kept them from crashing down to the gas giant’s metallic core.
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