The Dervish House (64 page)
Authors: Ian Mcdonald
Now the styrene shells. Big Hair attends to these. He cuts binding tape and unwinds bubble wrap. Nestling inside each is a brushed aluminium cylinder the length of Necdet’s forearm. These are the nano warheads. Four of them. Four warheads. Four pumps.
Necdet hears movement on the roof, like the slither of a scaled creature. He doesn’t worry now that Big Bastard or Surly Fucker will hear. This is divine hearing, Hızır manifesting himself in the audible world. The snake robot is up there.
On the bench by the door of the little mosque-chapel where old men sit when the weather is warm, Can bounces up and down with excitement as the pictures come in from Bird. He has it, oh he has it. That is clearly a pumping station, just as Mr Ferentinou suggested. There is the white van inside the wire. It will be tricky to get Rat Baby back from there. Afterwards, maybe. After what? He hasn’t thought of afters.
Next picture. There is the woman in the green headscarf and the big man in the SuperDry T-shirt. Guns! Look, guns! That surely is enough to get the police to pay attention to him. The next sequence of shots shows boxes and crates laid out on the ground and people squatting beside them. More guns. There is Necdet, beside a pillar with his hands behind him. There is Necdet closer, looking straight at Bird. He knows.
There’s no time to talk. Can unfolds his ceptep and sends the picture directly to the stored contact for the Kayişdaği police. Now you’ll believe a nine-year-old boy!
Next, help Necdet. Can crosses his sun-warmed thumbs in the haptic field, flaps his fingers. Bird glides down to land on the pump-house roof and, as its claws touch metal, Can bursts and reforms it into Snake. He has enough visuals to build a map and work out Necdet’s position underneath the roof. He sends Snake snaky-snaking one scale at a time down the pillar next to Necdet.
Look at me look at me look at me.
The eye contact is fleeting but the twitch of the head, the flare of the nostrils say,
I’ve seen you
. Can sends Snake around the back of the pillar, blindside to the terrorists. Now comes the hard stuff; lip-reading Necdet from the side on. What is he saying? Gg ard. Ig hard.
I’ve seen you
. Can sends Snake around the back of the pillar, blindside to the terrorists. Now comes the hard stuff; lip-reading Necdet from the side on. What is he saying? Gg ard. Ig hard.
‘Big bastard,’ Necdet giggles. ‘Big bastard!’ A gas station attendant pulling on his rubber boots after prayer in the corrugated iron mescid stares at the crazed boy. Big Bastard. That can only be SuperDry. He is big. Can thinks he looks kind, and a little lost.
Get above Big Bastard.
This is hard. He has to move slowly and carefully so as not to be seen, keeping Necdet in camera, upside down, where Snake’s traction is least strong. His tongue sticks out in concentration. He’s forgotten ever being cold to the bone. He’s forgotten that there is anyone around him or even where he is by the time he inches Snake into position above SuperDry’s head. It’s going to be a drop isn’t it? It’s going to be an Evil Shock Snake Drop. The thing he always wanted to do to the woman in Apartment 2, to make her scream. Evil Snake Attack! He catches Necdet’s eye, focuses on his lips and Necdet looks away.
Wait.
Don’t look at the snake
. But how long can the kid hold it there, upside down under the roof.
Don’t wiggle, don’t let them see you almost have one hand free
. Though his fingers feel like they are in a vice, as if his fingertips will explode in showers of blood at any moment.
. But how long can the kid hold it there, upside down under the roof.
Don’t wiggle, don’t let them see you almost have one hand free
. Though his fingers feel like they are in a vice, as if his fingertips will explode in showers of blood at any moment.
Big Hair has opened his computer and jacked it in to a panel on the pump-house controls. He taps keys. He reads outputs from his eyewriter. He seems pleased. Another sequence of keystrokes. Four oval panels, chevronned warning black-and-yellow, slide open on the pump housings. Big Hair smiles. Green Headscarf helps him load the canisters, one per pump. They fit very neatly into the spaces. Necdet wonders what Özer usually inserts into those chambers. It keeps his mind from the pain as he saws his thumbs back and forth, back and forth against the rasp of the plastic cable tie. The panel doors close again.
Necdet looks up, startled. The noise was so gentle and pervasive it had receded into the unheard background, like traffic thunder, but now that it has stopped, its absence is deafening. The hum of the pumps has stopped.
‘The pumps are down!’ Big Hair shouts.
‘What?’ Surly Fucker says.
‘The pumps are down. Listen, nothing’s working.’
‘Get them back up again,’ Green Headscarf says.
‘It could be a scheduled diagnostic, in which case I can over-ride it.’ Big Hair hits keys. ‘No. It’s a central command from pipeline control. Let’s see if I can work around this. No. It’s network wide. Özer’s entire system has been shut down.’ Even Big Bastard is on his feet. Necdet glances up. Good boy. Snake tracks him across the underside of the roof, writhing behind pipes and conduits.
‘Is that possible?’
‘I’m looking at it. It’s like Özer has disappeared.’
‘Get me a fucking spanner, there must be a way of doing this by hand!’ Surly Bastard barges in between Big Hair and Green Headscarf. Then Necdet hears a new noise, a small noise growing bigger and this is not Hızır hearing, for Green Headscarf and Big Hair and Surly Bastard and Big Bastard all look up: a buzzing like a billion insect wings.
‘Swarmbots!’ Surly Bastard shouts and thrusts his hand into the glove-weapon.
‘Now!’ Necdet shouts. Snake drops from concealment on to Big Bastard’s head. He screams, reels back, trips, falls on his back, pawing and shrieking at the oldest fear of all: a snake from above. Necdet tears his hands free. In two steps he reaches the sprawling Big Bastard, scoops up his assault rifle with bloody hands and drives the butt hard into his belly. Big Bastard projectile vomits.
‘Forgive me brother.’
Necdet smashes him on the side of his head and runs. A hurricane of swarmbots barrels towards him down the alley. He sees the God’s Engineers swing their boxing-glove weapons and tighten their fists. Swarmbots fall from the air like black snow. Swing, aim, fire in silence. Squadron by squadron, the air is swept clean of flying robots. Swarmbot carcasses rain on his shoulders and scalp. Necdet runs for the open street. Two white robotic rats, one large, one very small, race before him. Then, in a thunder of rotors, the helicopters arrive.
A voice is calling Can’s name. A voice can’t call Can’s name. That’s not allowed. That is game over. That is come away, come home. A second voice. He recognizes Mr Ferentinou. Not now, Mr Ferentinou. He has a mission to accomplish, a case to solve. Now he sees his mother coming past the shops, looking all around her as if he might be hidden in the gutter like a rat or perched on the roof like a bird, signing his name with her hands. He could always ignore the signing. Now he sees Mr Ferentinou on this side of the street coming, and another man he does not recognize with him. They’re coming towards the gas station. There is the Gas Bubble. Beside it is a police car. Not now not now not now. Can slips from the bench and moves inside the small red-painted porch of the little tin mescid. He pretends not to hear his name. Then the metal chapel vibrates to a new sound. The air itself thrums. Necdet peeps out from his hiding place. The sky over Kayişdaği curdles and breaks into swarmbots, dark as smoke. Can gasps. He would have missed the action on his feed from Snake had he not heard Necdet shout, ‘Now!’
He reacts without thought, smashing his fist down through the haptic field. He sees SuperDry’s face white with fear; then Superdry, Necdet, Compression Station tumble over each other in wheeling images.
‘Evil Snake Attack!’ Can shouts in glee. ‘Evil Snake Attack!’ He’s running blind. Get out. Get them out. Mission accomplished, Boy Detective.
Size of a rat!
Can commands.
BitBots to me!
He hopes Rat Baby gets the command and disengages from the white van.
Size of a rat!
Can commands.
BitBots to me!
He hopes Rat Baby gets the command and disengages from the white van.
The swarmbots whirl into a vortex, tower high over Kayişdaği and plunge into the alley that leads to the pumping station. Then they start to drop from the sky. Can gapes. Whole sub-swarms fall like hail. His screen stutters and blanks. Can squeaks in fear. Insect robots rattle from the corrugated iron roof of the mescid.
‘EMP guns!’ Can breathes. This is the greatest action movie the world has ever seen. Rat and Rat Baby come running harum-scarum down the alleys, staggering, reeling, tumbling as each new pulse shot sweeps another wing of swarmbots from the sky. ‘Get here get here get here!’ Can hisses. One targeted shot could kill them both. Necdet. Here comes Necdet. He’s covered in blood and carrying a big big assault rifle.
With a huge noise that beats the cavity of Can’s chest like a drum, two helicopters come in low and fast over the little minaret of the mescid. They turn over the apartment blocks behind the ratty shops. One holds position over the compression station, the other slides across the street to hover above the 24/7. Everyone is on the street. No one moves. The roar of its engines drives the air from Can’s lungs and the thoughts from his head. It is the most exciting thing he has ever seen. Rat and Baby Rat race across the street scattering dead swarmbots like desiccated flies. At the mescid door they leap and in mid-air explode into their component units, then come together again as a soft hive of BitBots. At the same instant the armoured cars turn into Namik Kemal Cadessi.
The figure stumbling from the alley is bloody and wild and carries a gun.
‘Necdet?’ Mustafa calls. The figure looks up, confused. ‘Necdet!’ Mustafa runs to him. Dead robots crunch under his feet. The beating of the helicopters fills the entire world. Necdet throws away the gun as if it is the leg of a dead man. Mustafa hugs Necdet to him like a brother.
‘Come on, come with me, you’re all right. It’s me. Mustafa. Mustafa from the Rescue Centre. Come on, there are police here, they’ll look after you.’ The police sergeant is already hurrying to assist. Then everyone freezes as the big six-wheeled armoured cars pound into Namik Kemal Cadessi and seal off the street in both directions. Front ends unfold like insect mandibles into shields and ramps. Figures in orange suits and orange breather masks pour on to the street. On the backs of their suits and the brows of their enclosed helmets is a rosette of black inward-pointing arrows on a yellow background. The figures are armed. They move to cover the street. Loudspeakers blare even over the helicopter thrash.
‘This is the security service, attention attention. This is a nanohazard alert, this is a nanohazard alert. Leave the area immediately, leave the area immediately. Do not take anything with you. Move back beyond the APCs.’
But Georgios Ferentinou sees the scuttling BitBots.
‘Can!’ His voice vanishes into the wall of noise. ‘Can!’ He walks towards the little red-painted mescid beside the 24/7. The loudspeaker repeats the order. Can appears in the door of the mescid. He is frightened and very very small. ‘Can!’
A figure emerges from the alley, a thin man with big frizzy hair. He waves an assault rifle, charges towards Georgios and the filling station.
‘Sir! Get down! Sir!’
The shots are deafening. The thin man’s back explodes. He goes straight down in the black snow of swarmbots, limbs splayed like a crushed spider. In the door of the mescid Can Durukan freezes. His chest spasms. His eyes bulge. He raises a finger and drops to the ground.
‘Help help!’ Georgios Ferentinou ducks and scuttles towards the mescid.
‘Sir! On the ground!’
‘Get an ambulance!’ Georgios shouts. The din is appalling. Can is limp and pale. He doesn’t seem to be breathing. ‘Oh God oh God. Can Can Can Can Can.’ He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know what to do. ‘Help me.’ No one can hear you, Georgios Ferentinou.
The soldiers in the orange nanohazard combat suits move from cover to close on the alley. A man comes running from the compression station. He is unarmed but his face is wild with anger, like a fighting dog. He charges at the soldiers, lifts his hands to his throat. A single shot drops him dead.
‘Come on, come on, Can, you’ll be all right.’ Georgios tries to lift the boy but he is old and fat and the child is heavy and floppy and awkward and he can’t get a grip. He hauls Can under one arm and drags him out of the mescid on to the street in squatting shuffle. ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’ He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and waves it. Now a woman walks from the compression station. She wears glasses and a green headscarf. Her hands are held up. The soldiers hold their aim. She walks confidently and boldly, with purpose, without fear. One of the soldiers moves his fingers over the back of his heavy gauntlet.
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