the Noise Within (2010) (17 page)

"That's one wishit," the barman said. "You got a name?"

He passed over a gleaming, solid-feeling coin. "Seeker2."

Silver Scales looked up sharply at that. "Seeker2, huh?"

Philip did his best to look nonchalant, wisely deciding that menacing was beyond him at present. "What about it?"

"Oh, nothing. Permit me to introduce myself: the name's Seeker."

Now
that
was what 'nonchalant' really sounded like. Philip blinked, searching for words and coming up with, "Really?" What were the chances of that, for goodness sake?

The other laughed, shaking his head. "I knew it wouldn't take you long. Seeker2... I should have guessed."

Philip was feeling increasingly uneasy and out of his depth here. "I'm sorry."

"It's Mal, Philip."

Seeker. Of course it was Mal. Who else would call himself
Seeker
?

"I've been waiting for you," the fish man continued.

"Lucky me."

"Glad to see you remembered your wishits."

"Yes... thank you." Damn it! Showing gratitude to this lingering afterthought was the last thing he wanted to do. Lately, he seemed to be doing nothing but.

"Nice tri-corner."

"Pardon?"

"The hat; it's a tri-corner."

"Oh, right. Came with the persona; glad you like it." There was no way he was going to say 'thank you' again.

"And you can take it off if you want. Seeing as you're inside now."

Philip simply stared. Then asked, quietly, "Do I look as out of place as I feel?"

"Pretty much." Mal was clearly enjoying himself. "But I shouldn't worry about that. They all do - the newbies I mean. You'll soon get used to the place. After a couple of visits you'll simply blend in like the rest of us."

"There aren't going to
be
any more visits. This is a one-off."

"Right; of course it is."

Even here, in these bizarrest of surroundings, the man had smugness down to a fine art.

Philip looked at the silver-scaled being beside him. "So, where is this notice board anyway?" There seemed little point in beating around the bush. They both knew why he was there.

"I thought you'd never ask. It's the other side of the bar." Mal nodded in the appropriate direction.

Philip grunted and sauntered over that way, Mal keeping pace.

If anything, the board came as a disappointment. It was simply that. A board. An oblong piece of spongy wood, or perhaps even cork, fixed to the wall. Secured to it by coloured plastic-ended pins were scraps of paper, with names hand written or rather scrawled upon them. His was cast with red ink in blocky, untidy letters. There were pins skewering three corners of the paper, one white, two yellow. The bottom left corner hung free and lifted slightly from the board. Philip didn't recognise the other three names.

He shook his head.

"What?" Mal asked beside him.

"I don't know, I just expected this to be..."

"Grander? More dramatic?"

"I suppose so. This just seems such a sorry, squalid way to have your life ended."

"Then make sure this isn't how it ends. I take it you know who posted this?"

"I've a fair idea, yes."

"Have you decided what you're going to do about it yet?"

"More or less." Mal could fish for information all he wanted - a thought perhaps inspired by his choice of avatar - Philip had no intention of elaborating.

"Well, much as I'd love to hang around..."

"... you've got things to do," Mal finished for him.

"Precisely."

Only when he had left
The Death Wish
and seen his home return to normal did Philip realise that he had never even checked the amount being offered for his head. He'd been vaguely aware of further scraps of tattered paper at the bottom of the board, but hadn't thought to glance at them. He almost succumbed to the temptation of returning to the virtual bar, but determined not to, reasoning that Mal might still be there, and he had suffered enough of the partial's company for the time being.

So instead he concentrated on finding the best way to get his name off that wretched board as swiftly as possible.

Philip composed himself, rehearsed what he intended to say for one final time in his head, and then said, "All right, Phil, make the call."

There was a noticeable delay, and he could imagine Phil making his case, and doing so as well as he could have done it himself. Whatever the partial said must have worked, because after a few uncertain minutes, his calm voice announced, "Mr McGovern."

Pelloy McGovern was a bloated goat of a man, at least to judge by the image that appeared before Philip at that moment, and he couldn't imagine that anyone would choose to disguise themselves by looking like that. In fact, Philip wondered why the man hadn't resorted to reduction work in order to
avoid
looking like that. Which was hardly the most important issue at that particular time.

Philip attempted to combine his most disarming smile with his steely 'I'll brook no nonsense' stare.

"Mr McGovern, thank you for sparing me the time."

"I nearly didn't, but curiosity got the better of me."

Nothing like being honest; Philip decided to employ the same policy. "Mr McGovern, I don't have any more wish to speak to you than you do to me, but I do have something to say which I know you'll want to hear. You see, last night, while pursuing a...
hobby
of mine, I stumbled upon some information regarding a certain individual.
Sensitive
information, you might say - the sort of thing which the person concerned would
not
want to see in the public domain. Now, personally, being a great believer in the principle of 'live and let live', I could not care less about any of the things I found, but I can understand why someone might want to keep this sort of thing private.

"Interestingly, since this incident, my name has appeared on a notice board in a place called
The Death Wish,
and do you know what, it seems that people are trying to kill me. There has already been one inept attempt."

The big man was doing an excellent impression of looking bored. "Fascinating, no doubt, but what does it have to do with me?"

"Bear with me, please. Obviously I can't allow this situation to continue. I sincerely wish that I could turn the clock back and 'unsee' what I saw, but failing that, I've taken steps to protect myself. The information in question has been recorded and stored in a
very
safe place. And, if you know who I am, you'll understand why I say that with confidence. It will stay in that place, undisturbed, until the day I die. As I say, I have no interest whatsoever in the material in question. However, in the event of my death, a copy of all this information will appear at every law enforcement office and media centre on the planet, and quite a few beyond.

"Doubtless the individual this information relates to has influence in many of these places, but I guarantee not all of them. Now clearly I have a vested interest in living a long life and for this information to never see the light of day, but for that to stand any chance of happening, my name would need to disappear pretty quickly from that wall in
The Death Wish
and not reappear."

McGovern's stare had grown ever more stony. "It seems to me," he said, very quietly, "that the poor schlep whose information you ran off with is in one hell of a bind, with the threat of exposure hanging over him forever and his having to rely on both your honesty and your continued good health."

Philip shrugged. "What can I say? I intend to live for a long, long time and as for my honesty, I know full well that if I ever
did
reveal what I know, I wouldn't live to enjoy whatever satisfaction that might bring me. I'll behave myself. There's nothing like a glimpse of your own mortality to keep a man honest." That was the stick, revealed and extravagantly brandished; now it was time for the carrot. "Having said that, I do recognise the misfortune this individual has suffered and the part I've played in it, so I was thinking of offering him something to soothe his hurt... And this is where I was hoping you might help me."

"Go on."

"Well, knowing you to be a man of experience in the business world, I was seeking some advice. Do you think a quarter of a million Universal Standards would be suitable recompense for the situation?"

"Well, there's a question. It's difficult to put a price on this sort of thing, of course, but I would have thought a half a million US might be nearer the mark."

"Half a million?" Philip feigned dismay. "I hear what you're saying, but I really
do
want to sort this out as soon as possible and I couldn't lay my hands on that sort of sum immediately. I
could
probably scrape together 400,000 if I needed to... Do you think that would be enough to make my case?"

McGovern stared for long seconds before saying, "I think for 400,000 US, any man would have to take your sincerity very seriously indeed."

Philip smiled as guilelessly as he could manage. "That's a relief. I knew you were the right man to ask. Thank you so much for your time, you've been a great help."

The man's smile was even more chilling than his stare. "My pleasure."

"I really appreciate this, and don't worry, I won't trouble you again. In fact, if you ever
do
hear from me after this, it will most likely be from beyond the grave."

Philip cut the connection.

Well, that had been intense. 400,000 US: painful, but manageable. He'd expected to have to go to half a million, so when viewed from that perspective he was ahead of the game.

Philip gave it an hour before he ventured into
The Death Wish
again. When he did so, there was no sign of Mal. More importantly, his name had vanished from the infamous board.

He went to bed feeling extremely pleased with himself.

"We have an intruder." Phil's voice was calm and softly spoken, but still managed to convey a sense of urgency.

"Wha...?" Philip's voice on the other hand seemed distant and confused, even to his own ears, as he surfaced from the oblivion of sleep.

"Coming in through the lounge."

He hauled his body into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, toes curling into the warm carpet while he stretched his shoulders and neck, which ached spitefully. The meaning of the partial's words began to percolate through the muzziness, but not quickly enough.

"Give me a shot of number one, Phil," he said, lifting a reluctant arm and pressing his wrist against the dispenser built into the bed's headboard.

There was a slight tingling as the micro-spray permeated his skin, while he took a deep breath, waiting for the stimulant to kick in.

He could almost feel the woolliness lifting from his mind. "All right, show me."

An image appeared in the air a metre or two in front of him. He recognised his own front room, looking out towards the panoramic window. A dark shape could vaguely be seen beyond that window. It seemed to be in the process of cutting a large circle in the glass, using a laser, the brightness of which effectively masked the wielder. Philip squinted, trying to make out more detail.

"What the hell is that thing?"

"Initial readings suggest it to be a remote-controlled shell," Phil told him. "I'll be able to tell more once it gets inside."

"Sophisticated enough to bypass the alarm, by the look of it."

"Granted. And whoever's directing it knows enough to come in through the lounge rather than the bedroom." The apartment boasted heavier night time defences in the master bedroom than anywhere else, since that was where Philip slept and so where he was at his most vulnerable.

The circle was almost complete. "Another assassination attempt, I presume." Philip sighed. That was the problem with this 'Death Wish' system: how could you tell people who had already seen the notice that the contract had been cancelled? How could you even know who they were? He wondered whether McGovern would still pay out should the assassin prove successful. Probably.

He was feeling fully awake now, the stimulant doing the job it had been designed to do. "The police?" he wondered.

"Would never be able to get here in time."

"Building security?"

"They might make it, just."

"But would they be of any help?"

"I shouldn't think so."

Philip grunted. "And I don't suppose anything we've got in place is likely to stop it."

"Difficult to say until we know more about the intruder, but I wouldn't count on it."

He caught his first proper glimpse of the threat now, as a peculiar, squat mechanism floated in through the circle of missing glass. About half the height of a man, maybe a little less, or so Philip reckoned, it was shaped like an irregular sphere; the symmetry marred by bumps and lumps and a pair of three-fingered claws, one digit opposable to the other two, which were now flush to its body but which Philip guessed were extendable. He was on his feet now, watching with morbid fascination. He pulled on some clothes, for no good reason other than habit suggested he should.