The Scioneer (6 page)

‘And what
then?’

‘What can
I say man? I have to look after my own,’ Cesar said by way of an
apology, unable to meet his friend’s eye. Lek was the first to
break the awkward silence which had descended on the
room.

‘I
understand. It’s ok, really
Cesar. What time is it anyway?’

Chapter 8

T
he clock on the
Enzyme’s dashboard read 13:38, but there was clearly a loose
connection somewhere: the LED blinked on and off sporadically. The
biorg engine purred quietly. At least something worked.

In spite
of his military training, or perhaps because of it, The Scar did
not place much stock in modern technology. His training may have
told him otherwise, but in his gut, in his heart, if he still had
one, Vidmar trusted only in nature. Before his rapist’s crimes
caught up with him, in his former life as a member of the Estonian
Secret Police, Vidmar had seen too many operations fall foul of
nature’s caprice: satellite link-ups lost because of deep cloud
cover; solar flashes millions of miles away knocking out the
workings of robotech teams; even fibre-webcams destroyed by nesting
wasps. Man had nothing compared to nature’s arsenal, and all a
soldier in the field could do was accept it and adapt.

Vidmar
peered out of his windscreen, under the abandoned railway bridge
where he had parked. A canopy of thick trailing kudzu vines shaded
the Enzyme. Nature winning over again, he thought.

As
expected, he saw movement at the back of the Dynagym, but only two
figures emerged. Another two hulking gym-junkies, just like that
brute of a manager, Vidmar thought, but he noticed something
strange in their movements. In his experience, men the size of
these two didn’t tend to stand so close to one another. Unless that
was the reason why they had slipped out of the back doors and were
scanning their surroundings so intently. Alternative lifestyles and
all that. Then he saw the target - Gorski, that geek, peeping out
from between them, wide-eyed as a bush-baby. Vidmar smiled
knowingly and the scar tissue pulled at his eyelid. He understood
people, and all the tracking devices in the world couldn’t compete
with nature, especially human nature.

He
watched as the two bullish men shuffled out of the back gates and
down the street, blocking Gorski like a human wall. They made their
way along the street until they reached the entrance to the Gridley
Housing Estate and stood there, like a couple of bouncers guarding
the doors of an East End speakeasy. Vidmar saw Gorski slip away
into the estate. ‘So be it,’ he said to himself. This game was all
about staying one step ahead of your opponent, and Vidmar played it
well. Always had. He thought about Pechev and his precious chess
set. ‘I could teach him some moves.’ Better to let the scientist
think he was still in control of his own destiny for now. Vidmar
certainly didn’t want to scare the little shit into bolting, and
then what? Shoot him? Half a million cred wasted with a single
bullet? No thank you. That’s why he had to let him go at Victoria.
Too many people. Better to wait, better to follow, pick your
moment, and offer him no other option. He needed to corner the guy,
somewhere everybody felt comfortable…

He
waited until the two bulls had
moved on, before he nudged the Enzyme out of its hiding place and
cruised down to the Skypephone on the corner of the
street.

He
thumbprinted and dialled a number. Danny Calabas’ greenish
corpulent face floated into view. God, he hated these
middle-management goons.

‘Vidmar! What’s
happening baby? How come you don’t come round no more? You got no
love for my girls? I got all new ones. From your part of the world
too. All blonde and skinny with itty-bitty t…’

‘Shut up
Calabas. Listen, you remember the doctor who works for us? His name
was, is, Gorski’

‘Sure, Gorski.
Good cheekbones, always wearing specs.’

‘That’s
him’

‘Yeah, what
about him?’

‘I seem to
recall he had a thing with one of your girls a few months
back?’

‘Well
kinda. He met one off-duty, so to speak. She’s only a cage dancer
though. Sometimes a little bit more on the side. But yeah, he took
her out for a spin a few times, but word in the halls is nothing
ever came of it. He only ever wanted to talk. What a sap!’ He
licked the back of his hand and even on the low-rez screen, Vidmar
could see his pupils dilating.

‘Whatever
Danny. Digits and Data….’

‘What’s it
worth?’

‘It’s worth me
not sticking my fist down your throat next time I come around.’

‘Ok, ok.
John Lennon’s ashes! She doesn’t stay here. She’s got her own place
off Lavender Hill, Stormont Street, number 66, don’t remember the
flat though. You’ll have to just try them all. No mob. She ain’t
stupid, that one. Fixed line is…. hang on… 6CC6
1E58..9F….’

‘You’re
breaking up. Was that S for sugar?’

‘No F. F for….
frog.’

Vidmar
sniggered down the line. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Crystal
Purcell.’

‘That’s
right, Crystal Purcell,’ said Vidmar, pulling a crumpled pub napkin
from his pocket.
There
it was: ‘CP’, in Gorski’s handwriting, circled and underlined.
‘Nice one Danny. Talk soon.’

Vidmar
unclipped a vial from the chain around his neck and unscrewed the
cap. He tapped out a bump of Bloodhound – a gift from a crooked
copper he knew at New New Scotland Yard - onto the back of his hand
and Dysoned it up. He saw nothing wrong with giving nature a
he
lping hand every now
and again.

Chapter 9

Crystal
Purcell swore violently as she sliced her
finger open on a can of corned beef. ‘They can put
a man on Mars, but fuck me if they can’t figure out a way of
getting into these tins without a little frigging key!’

She
turned the tap on and washed the away the blood. Another scar to
add to the collection, she thought. In truth, Crystal was still a
little shaken up after the phone-call. There had been times in the
past when a score had somehow managed to get hold of her number and
had called in the hope of some free sex chat, or worse yet, love.
But this time was different. No caller ID, no names. But the threat
was clear.

Crystal
shook her head and tried to get it all out of her mind, but her
thoughts turned to Lek Gorski and the strange affair they had
shared a few months back. After all the men she’d known in her
young life, and the few that she had even loved, none had moved her
in quite the same way as the quirky and not unattractive scientist
with his strange accent, bizarre mannerisms and old fashioned
approach to relationships.

They had
met for the first time at a wake in New Richmond. She had been
invited to attend, practically begged in truth, by the deceased’s
son, Harold. He had been telling his entire family that he was
happily engaged to an exotic beauty for months, until Dad’s
untimely death at a UNICEF charity fox-hunt caught Harold in the
lie, and he was forced to improvise with one of Danny Calabas’ good
time gals. Danny gave him a good rate, given the
circumstances.

Although
Crystal played the role of the fake doting fiancée with aplomb
throughout the entire day, even managing to squeeze out a few tears
during the cremation itself, she found herself drawn to the quiet
Polack in the corner who had been drawing on cocktail napkins all
day, and paying nobody else any attention.

She
finally found a moment when the crowd clamoured around the buffet
to approach his solo table.

Crystal
Purcell was a true natural beauty, and as such, unused to making
moves on single men. She found herself lost for words, and was
about to utter something inane, when Lek, aware of her presence,
raised a finger and told her she would have his undivided attention
in just a moment.

‘What are
you doing?’ Crystal asked, intrigued.

‘Just
finishing off a piece... of... work’, he said, dotting a final
full-stop, placing his pen in his top pocket and sweeping the
fringe from his face with a flourish. ‘Oh it’s you!’ he said,
blushing slightly, ‘shouldn’t you be standing with your...
boyfriend?’

‘Actually, he’s not my boyfriend.’

‘Forgive me. I
can’t keep up with the correct terminology these days. Your,
your...’ Lek searched for the word.

‘He’s not my
anything.’

‘Oh I see. Poor
man. He must be heartbroken.’

Crystal
thought about explaining, then shook her head and forged ahead with
a stumbling introduction.

‘…
.and
you are?’

‘I am Lek
Gorski. Very pleased to meet you.’

‘I noticed you
all alone over here’

‘I
noticed you noticing,’ Lek said with a boyish smile and it was
Crystal’s turn to blush.

‘Are you, were
you a friend of the, of the...’

‘Dead man? No.
Well, yes. He was a business associate of mine. Another man of
science.’

‘Oh, you’re a
scientist? How interesting. What do you do exactly?’

‘I work with
animals!’ Lek near shouted and let out a shrill uncontrollable
laugh. Many of the mourners stared and Crystal realised that her
new acquaintance was, in fact, stoned.

‘Are you
high? At a funeral?’

‘It helps me
think straight,’ Lek explained, suddenly serious, ‘besides, I’m
here to work.’

‘How’s
that?’

‘I work
with human emotions. When they let me out of my lab, I like to seek
out human behaviour and just
watch
.
Not only funerals of course. Marriages too. I used to spend a lot
of time at the airports, before they closed them all down. Great
places to watch people. Lots of joy. Lots of sadness. Real raw
emotion.’

‘You make
it sound so clinical.
’

‘It is. I
am.’

‘Do you have a
card?’

‘No. They don’t
let me have cards. Why?’

‘Would
you like to have a drink with me some time?’

Lek look
perplexed, and took his glasses off to squint at her. ‘Are you
asking me out? On a date?’

‘I don’t know.
Maybe.’

‘Shouldn’t I be the one asking for
your
number?’

‘They
don’t let me have cards either. Besides, I don’t give my number out
to anybody. Company policy, I’m afraid. You’d have to ask my
boss.’

If the
penny dropped for Lek at that moment, Crystal didn’t notice any
change in his expression. Instead, he continued to look at her, not
in the way that all men had looked at her since she was twelve, but
rather like a young boy trying to work out a Rubik’s Dodecca for
the first time.

‘How will
we arrange to see each other again then?’ he asked
innocently.

‘I’ll
find you, Lek Gorski,’ she said enigmatically, before disappearing
into the crowd.

Lek
smiled at this strange turn of events, took another napkin off the
stack, pulled out his pen and began writing
chemical symbols all over it, pretending
nothing had happened.

Crystal
did indeed find Lek. She had connections. It didn’t even come as a
surprise to her to find out that there were so few degrees of
separation between her boss and his. In this city, where crime had
its roots deep in business and pleasure, the same names cropped up
time and again. And so it was that Lek and Crystal began seeing
each other, meeting furtively on her free evenings to drink gin and
smoke shisha and chat before electricurfew and occasionally after
it.

A strange
relationsh
ip blossomed
between the two of them, a love affair founded on loneliness and a
shared understanding of the difficulty of the other’s life. Lek
found he could forget the crime and violence surrounding his work
when he was with Crystal, and for her part, she felt herself drawn
to a man who was happy to simply be in her company, a man who had
no expectations of her, a man for whom she didn’t have to put on a
show. For the first time in her life, Crystal felt she could truly
be herself. She saw a kindred spirit in the lost scientist, trapped
in a world of shadows and deceit which had been drawn around him
against his will. She talked about her own background, growing up
in the Lewisham ghetto, tears spilling down her cheeks when she
spoke of her abusive father who, high on crack one January
afternoon in The Shangri-La, Danny Calabas’ day-club, had gambled
her life away on a game of stab-finger with the owner. Since then,
she had only known the way of the club-geisha, dancing inside a
bulletproof plexiglass cage for money she never saw, and
occasionally taking clients upstairs to the cells of The Swinging
Hammocks if Calabas insisted, once they had been cleared for
disease by the medi-bouncers on the door.

In spite
of it all, Crystal remained sanguine about her sad existence, sure
that one day she would make it out alive. ‘I can’t stay pretty
forever Lek,’ she said, ‘they’ll just have to put me out to pasture
sooner or later’. The truth was, she was more than pretty, with
dark almond eyes and cocoa-skin, full lips and curves in all the
right places. What’s more, it was all hers, she was still 100%
human: there wasn’t a trace of gazelle, flamingo or Siamese cat
attached to her cells. She shunned the beautox clinics and UV
salons, relying instead on her natural charms. Although Lek was
clearly attracted to her - she could tell - he maintained a certain
distance. In the compulsory darkness after sundown, in the solitude
of her tiny flat, she misconstrued the way he may have looked at
her, and twisted his words, convincing herself that he only met her
out of pity, that he believed she was damaged goods, that he would
never love her, and she cried at the thought.