The Apocalypse Codex (48 page)

Authors: Charles Stross

BOOK: The Apocalypse Codex

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“You’re assuming he didn’t do that deliberately. Play us for idiots right down the line.” Persephone is silent for almost five minutes. Her expression is distant. “He got Mahogany Row’s attention, and they sent us. Do you suppose it was deliberate? That he’d worked out that we’d have the right kind of asset and trailed himself through London just to ensure that someone like you would show up on his doorstep?”

Johnny’s eyes widen in surprise. “I really hope
not
…!”

“Oh yes.” Her face in the mirror is pale. “At least, Lockey didn’t deny it. The bloodline is rare outside of the western isles. And the organization’s done a good job over the past few decades of ensuring that the believers don’t stray, and the stray don’t believe. But Lockey only needed two of you—Schiller and someone else—to make it work. I’m thinking we were set up.”

Johnny digests this for a minute. Then: “Schiller’s dead.”

“I would say so, yes. At least, he was on the wrong side of the gate when I unplugged the generator that was powering the control node. Along with whatever he managed to awaken.”

“The Sleeper? It’s
awake
?”

“Probably. Maybe. I was very much afraid that it was finally stirring from its sleep when I went back through the gate, and it certainly seemed restless.” Her knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “It’ll be weak, though. To wake it is the easy part—feeding it until it’s strong enough to act is the hard bit. That’s what the mass sacrifice was about. It may be awake but right now it’s trapped in the temple, barely conscious, with nothing to feed on but Raymond Schiller. And if the Nazgûl thought they could control it, they’re going to learn otherwise really soon.”

“So, what now?”

“What, next, you mean?”

“Don’t act the ingenue with me, boss, it won’t wash.”

“We go home.” Her voice is tired. “We conduct the post-mortem. Then we dig in for the phony war.”

“Ah.” His eyebrows rise with enlightenment. “You think it’s going that way?”

“I am certain of it.” He sees her frown in the mirror. “At least we got out of there alive. What did you think of Mr. Howard’s performance?”

“’E came through better than I expected, keeping up with you, Duchess. Is ’e still alive?”

“Probably. I passed him on the way out. Unconscious.” She pauses. “He’s got potential. If only he can get over his squeamish side he’ll be a very useful asset. And I think we can work on that.”

“So you’ve made up your mind, have you? Despite the aforementioned clusterfuck?”

“Yes. We’ve got to take talent where we can find it, and it’s not Howard’s fault the mission was a qualified failure.” She taps the fingers of her right hand on the wheel boss. For a moment there’s a flash of bitterness in her eyes. “You win some, you lose some. And when you lose, you have to pull yourself together and go back for more. Otherwise, the other side wins by default.”

“A HEARING?” I MANAGE NOT TO SQUEAK. “DO I, UH, WOULD
I be advised to ask for an advocate? Or legal advice?”

“It’s not that kind of hearing.” The Senior Auditor actually looks
cheerful
. “You’re not in the frame for GOD GAME BLACK running off the rails. In fact, you’ve come out of it smelling of roses. Or, at least, not covered in sewage. For one thing, you survived. For another thing, so did the executives you were sent to support.”

“But what about—”

“Come on.” He stands up. “You’ve already worked most of it out for yourself, but we still have some procedures to go through, forms to file, that sort of thing.”

“Forms for
what
?”

“Forms for Human Resources to document your permanent transfer to External Assets as an executive assistant. BASHFUL INCENDIARY’s report on your performance was quite positive, and you seem to have come through Gerald Lockhart’s stress test with acceptable results. The one thing everyone who has ever supervised you agrees on is that you’d be wasted in middle management. So you’re not going there. Instead, you’re being diverted onto the other career ladder, the one most people in the organization don’t know about.

“Welcome to Mahogany Row, Mr. Howard. And may whichever god you choose to believe in have mercy on your soul.”

Table of Contents

5. Bashful Incendiary