Saga (22 page)

Soon we were dancing. Formally it was like old times, our gang together again. But so much had happened since we had set out on that Mountain Vista mall raid. Jay was leaping around at a very rough and variable 150 BPM; by contrast, Nath was swaying metronomically at exactly 122 BPM, his gaze scanning the room. He was enjoying the sight of hundreds of dancing people in the reception area of a building that during the week was a motherboard of busy official activity—that, and the slightly awed glances directed toward us. I was dancing to approximately the same beat, but without any music coming through my earplugs. Despite the warm reception from the partygoers, I was on guard. Reassuringly Athena was sitting on her airboard, floating about half a meter from the ground, keeping an eye on her notebook for police activity. She glanced up, saw that I was looking at her, and winked. All was well.

“Michelotto, too?” We can hardly believe it. Such naïvete. Admittedly no one, not even Michelotto, knows of Our relationship with the APC. But still, strolling into Our trap like rabbits suggests that these children are not, after all, of much significance.

“Not that I can tell.”

“No,” We muse. The silence on the com link is palpable. Do We try to plant transmitters on them? So that We can perhaps find Michelotto through them? No. He would be sensitive to any such device. We decide simply to shock him, to show him that although We are in Our bunker, Our reach is long.

“Take them somewhere private and kill them.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Make sure none of you are seen to be involved in this.”

“Understood.”

The party was
hugely popular, making me uncomfortable with the heat and lack of space. With the average BPM now up to around 140, there were all the signs of people being caught up in the flow of a heeby-jeebie rush: wide, dilated eyes, energetic arm movements, exaggerated expressions on their faces. Not to mention all the foil wrappers on the floor. Here and there, people were wearing Defiance tags, neat.

Of course, Milan had managed to acquire a large entourage of girls around him, all paying him the compliment of tuning into his music and dancing to his beat. Standing at the fringe of the group, watching him with an expression of slight contempt, was the girl in the tartan skirt from the hospital rave.

A few steps later, Milan noticed her. He looked pleased.

“Well?” he asked silently.

“You were right.” She mouthed the words and gave a shrug.

Milan strutted, swaying side to side, chest out, but then softened, and a genuine smile formed on his face. He gestured benevolently to the group around him, inviting her in. She shook her head, backing away, calling to him with her index finger: you and me, just you and me. I was amused by the expression of indecision now written clearly on Milan’s face. Many “hot punk chicks,” as he would call them, or this one bossy girl? Although I would have preferred to keep him in sight, I had to approve as Milan bowed his thanks to those around him and then switched his music off. He was going to dance with Ms. Tartan.

Where was Nathan? I located him, away in some dark corner, the shadow of a girder affording him some privacy while he kissed a girl with blond ponytails and a luminous pink top. I felt a moment of shock, then disappointment, although I couldn’t say exactly why. No doubt, it was his disregard for danger that was irritating me; he wasn’t going to be very vigilant with that bubblegum girl in his face. Really, it was tempting to get in there and break them up. Should I tap her on the shoulder, give her a scowl and Nathan a reprimanding look?

At least Athena was on the alert, again and again having to shake her head as the boys came over, offering to dance with her. Of course I would have said no to the boys as well. Except that I wasn’t asked. No one knew I had been part of the winning tank crew. That was fine, and the lack of attention proved that my efforts to be hidden worked, even in the middle of a throng such as this. Actually I was at my best as a thief in crowds like this. I noticed everything. Like the man working his way through the party.

Pushing through the close-packed silent dancers was a tall APC steward in a black leather jacket. He was older than the partygoers by a long way, silver hair short at his temples, surveying the room over the bobbing heads. The rhythm of his movements was unaffected by any musical beat. He was on business. Ignored by those pressed close to him, he looked carefully around; I avoided his gaze as it passed over me. On seeing Athena, he changed direction and came directly over. Jay and Carter backed away slightly so that the steward could come right up close to her. Then, astonishingly, as he bent to whisper in her ear, I caught a glimpse of a gun inside his jacket.

Athena looked up to him and nodded, face impassionate. By contrast, I was feeling adrenaline course through my limbs; my fingertips were trembling. So the APC carried guns? Was that normal at their events? I’d never noticed it before. Who else might be armed? Perhaps those two heavyset men at the entrance?

“Team. Sorry to curtail the fun. The APC leadership wants a quiet word upstairs,” Athena whispered in our ears. Although they were not joined up to our coms system, Jay and Carter slowed down, curious. Then, with a glance at each other, both flicked their music off.

Nathan had a hand up at his earpiece and had already detached himself from the arms of his girl. “APC leadership? Far out. We finally get to see them.” I saw him put on an apologetic expression and make the hand signs for
L-8-R
. I couldn’t see her face but her hands showed
N-P
. Good for Nath; his priorities were unaffected.

Once Nathan had joined us, the APC steward led the way toward a glass elevator. Before any of the others could get in the way, I slipped behind him and, as he turned side on to avoid a dancer, I relieved him of the gun. He didn’t notice. It was light, and I slipped it into my waistband at the small of my back, the airboard that hung over my shoulder helping to conceal it. The APC leadership was certainly higher up the “most wanted” list than us, and that’s probably why their people carried guns. But still, the power he held over us while he had the gun offended my instincts. Anyway, he could have it back later. I might even be able to plant it on him again without his ever having noticed it was gone.

“Milan?” Athena was looking around.

“Sec.”

“Come to the glass elevator.” She covered her mouth with her hand and spoke in hushed tones, so as not to be heard in the vast room. The hall was uncannily quiet, but for a gentle noise created by the shuffling feet of the dancers.

The glass elevator went up the outside of the building, allowing you to look out across the City. As it came down to collect us, the steward saw that Jay, Carter, and I had come along, too. He scowled and shook his head, but turned to see Athena, eyebrow raised, hands on hips. Her body language was asking him if he really wanted to challenge her. So there was a renewed, careful examination of us all. This time, I held his gaze for a moment. He shrugged, standing inside the elevator now, one foot preventing the door from closing. We all entered it, Milan, too, hurriedly wiping purple lipstick from his mouth with the back of his hand.

The elevator rose smoothly and in near silence. Below us the hall of swaying dancers receded as white spots of bright light rushed down our bodies. We were ascending through the beams that were being projected and reflected from the ground floor.

We exited the elevator at the highest point it could reach, the thirty-fifth floor. At this height, the building was relatively narrow and the corridor we were in curved sharply as I looked to our left and right. It wouldn’t take me a minute to run around the whole level. All the office doors were on the inside of the circle. The APC steward led us to one of them and knocked.

It made me jump slightly, to hear this distinct rap after the silence of the dancing, the energy of which I still felt, far, far below our feet.

“Enter.”

The steward opened the door for us to troop into the room, and then came in himself, closing the door and standing beside it.

We were in a room that by day was evidently a busy operational center for whatever went on at Heslington House. Desks were arranged efficiently so that the office could contain its ten workstations, strewn with files, paper, pens, and even little potted plants. A line of thin computer screens snaked across the tables, permanently unrolled in an upright position. Sitting behind one of the desks, by the far wall, was a middle-aged woman, dressed in black. She had several piercings and a very faded perma-tat design the length of her neck, from shoulder to ear. It was of three snakes interwoven around each other.

She spoke, raising her head from partial shadow, dark eyes searching us. “Rather a lot of you?”

“We’re in the gang, too!” Carter pushed forward slightly, keen to share the honor of meeting an unknown but nevertheless much revered leader of the APC.

“I see.” She stroked her chin. “Any more of you downstairs?”

A few shakes of the head.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Michelotto is?”

Again, we shook our heads in a silent reply.

She exhaled heavily, and then stood up.

“Well, I’m sorry, children, but orders are orders.”

She bent over a drawer and, as she straightened, everyone could see the gun that she was lifting in a rather disconsolate fashion.

A stray hair floated above her right eye; a skein of sweat was on her brow. The room was full of eddies and currents; the air conditioning was on. My experiences had become discontinuous, just as in those moments when I was performing near-impossible airboard moves. The woman’s heartbeat was distinct and accelerating, saying without words that her body was preparing for violence. Each slightly jerky, minute motion of her hand showed that she was going to start with me, simply because I was on the right of the group. The angle of her body showed that she was then going to swing the gun across the rest of us. The pupils of her blue eyes were narrowing, focusing on a spot above my heart.

So I shot her. Then I fired the laser through the steward who was patting at his empty jacket pocket, his last expression one of immense surprise. The room was instantly filled with an unpleasant smell of burnt meat.

“Police activity?” I asked Athena.

She was the quickest to react, unrolling her computer onto a desk. The others took a moment to close their mouths.

“None.”

I took the earpiece from the dead man and plugged it into my right ear, our own coms being in my left.

“Ghost, what’s going on? Are they police?” asked Milan.

“I don’t know, but they were going to kill us.” I held up my hand. “Wait. It’s the Dark Queen; she’s asking for a report.” The Dark Queen? She was in contact with the APC leadership? That was an incredible fact, but the creaking voice was hers. I paused, taken aback for only a moment; the Dark Queen was very sharp. She didn’t ask twice. “Now she’s ordering more of them to come up. Not to let us escape.”

Carter was sick, adding to the foul stench of a room that was getting very claustrophobic.

“Come on, somebody, lend a hand.” Nathan was trying to pull the body of the man away from the door, so it could open.

The elevator was gone. We ran along the curved corridor. So, too, was the one on the other side. They were both traveling down.

Pushing open an interior door, Athena waved us in. “Up then.”

A stairwell that curved tightly around the very center of the building led us up to a solid heavy door: NO UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS. It took only a brief moment to pick the lock. After Nathan, who was bringing up the rear, was through, I locked it again and melted the workings with the laser.

We emerged onto a windy roof, the City spread out around us, glittering trails of amber light leading through the darkness toward the horizon.

“Now what?” Jay was looking around. If the plan was to steal an aircraft, we were out of luck. There was nothing here but some lamps and luminous guide marks. I leaned over the side, where I could see an elevator full of dark figures making the ascent. The curvature of the building was too steep, even for me. It had crossed my mind that somehow I might be able to board it down, but now I could see that was impossible.

There was a neighboring tower, of a more conventional square shape, not too far away, whose roof was about twenty meters below that of Heslington House.

“Hurry.” I started burning the ties that held down a cable that brought power to the lights around the roof. “Pull this up.”

Click. Click. Click.
I worked the trigger, moving rapidly around the edge of the roof, melting the ties, while my friends yanked the cable free. Soon, we had a fifty-meter length of thick, black, plastic cable. Once I had cut it off, I tied one end around my chest under my arms. The other I gave to Milan. Behind us, there was banging on the door.

“Can you swing me across?”

He understood at once and, having tied his end to the nearest stanchion, climbed right up onto the edge of the roof.

“Yeah, if they all hold my legs real tight.”

“Come on then.” Jay led the way, wrapping his arms around Milan’s right leg. Athena joined him; Nathan and Carter took the other one.

“You’d better not be wiping your mouth on my combats.” Milan scowled down at Carter, and then winked.

The outside of Heslington House was constructed of long panels as smooth as glass, but there were also metal joints that protruded just enough to give me a bit of purchase as I descended, the cable being let out in a regular motion by Milan, who was taking my weight easily, the cable going up under his right armpit, around his shoulders, and back down under his left armpit. He was feeding it through, left hand to right, using his strong body to help with the strain on his arms.