“No. They all died like Carne and Hines. Autopsies showed the same crude enhancements as Carne. Nothing like yours, and even less like whatever killed Levin and Asika. And, before you ask, we’re tracing back the manufacture of the enhancements.”
“That’s an obvious direction, so they’ll throw all their countermeasures into it.”
“Then try another direction,” Rafiq said. “How do you think Hines knew about your questioning of Carne?”
“One of Olivia’s people? Not all of them are loyal.”
“How did he know it in such detail?”
“Microbot listeners?” As soon as he said it, and even before he saw Rafiq smile derisively—another unusual mannerism, for him—Anwar knew it was a lame answer. Microbot listeners were pseudo-insects, devices used regularly by the UN, by governments, and by large corporate bodies like the New Anglicans. They were known technology, and there were reliable ways of detecting and neutralising them.
“Fine, not microbots,” Anwar went on hurriedly. “A listener of some kind, but different. That’s something you can work on.”
“Oh, you think? Well, we’d better do that. Arden, will you make a note?” Anwar was startled. Of all the weapons in Rafiq’s considerable arsenal, Anwar had never heard him resort to sarcasm.
“We’ve already found them,” Arden explained quietly. “Nanobot implants, molecule-sized, located in the inner ear. Able to listen and transmit. Carne had one; so did the five we questioned. They’re quite sophisticated devices.”
“But if they don’t do enhancements very well...”
“Not organic enhancements, like yours. It doesn’t mean they don’t do other things very well.”
Hines said that, or something like it. But it isn’t what he meant. “Can you trace them back?”
“Not easily. Molecules don’t have serial numbers.”
“Those other enhancements—the ones you found in Carne...”
“Yes, we’ve started tracing them. There were smaller and smaller components and sub-assemblies, subcontracted downwards and downwards, until the people who finally made them were tiny one-or two-person machine shops, and the components they made were so small they had no idea what they were; and when we worked back upwards there were proxies and dead-ends and dummy corporations. We’ve been doing that,” she added, “since I got your account of Hines’ questioning.”
Anwar stayed silent. He’d started thinking again of Levin.
“Does nothing else occur to you?” Rafiq asked him.
“Not at the moment.”
“Can’t you do better than that?”
Levin used to say things like that, but mockingly. Not in that tone. “Why don’t you just tell me what should have occurred to me?”
“How about what they’ve done? I don’t mean about killing Consultants and threatening Archbishops, I mean what they’ve done strategically. They set up the New Anglican Church in 2025 and ran it, indirectly, through its founders. They work in long cycles and they aren’t part of the usual landscape. So we must find what pattern they’re working to, and then go back over years and search for what fits it. For what else they’ve done.”
“Isn’t that more your territory than mine?”
“Yes, but I thought you might have suggested we research it... And their network of corporations and proxies and financial holdings and subcontracting, we must unravel it and trace it back. That’s my territory too. But whatever they’re sending for her, whether it’s still on its way or already at Brighton: that’s your territory.”
“I know.”
“And are you sure nothing else occurs to you?”
“If it does, I’ll call you. From Brighton.”
Rafiq’s voice softened. “Remember, Anwar. They’ve got something that kills Consultants. Carne’s enhancements were crude, but they would be. If they had an advanced version of you, they wouldn’t let us see it. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Because Arden believes it was a single opponent that did that to Chulo. Probably to Miles too. Whoever they are, if they have something that can do that...I know, I’m repeating myself, but I offered you help or a way out and you won’t take either. So I think we’re done here.” And I feel you’re going to your death. I don’t think I’ll see you again.
They stood and shook hands.
Anwar saw Rafiq’s mouth open to speak, and could tell from its shape that the back of his tongue was against the roof of his mouth, about to form the hard G in Good Luck. He didn’t say it. Instead he said, “I’ll see you again, when all this is finished.”
“I’ll walk back to the VSTOL with you,” Arden said.
“That extraordinary car...” she began, as they walked across the parkland in front of Fallingwater.
“You can only get them in England, from a specialist company in Surrey. I’ve always wanted a Cobra. Perhaps, when this mission is over, I’ll have it shipped back here.”
“Perhaps,” she said.
“Rafiq didn’t seem like his usual self.”
“He isn’t,” she said, and, “Anwar, if you want, we could...”
“Don’t, Arden, don’t finish what you were going to say.”
“You’re involved elsewhere, aren’t you?”
“No!” he said, too loudly.
When they reached the VSTOL, which was hovering politely a couple of inches above the lawn where a marquee had stood ten years ago, he added, “Really, I’m not. She’s poison. Whatever she stands for publicly, inside she’s poison.”
“Protesting too much? Be careful, Anwar. Not just of what they send to kill her, but of her.”
She shook his hand, and remained holding it for a moment. A door melted open in the VSTOL’s silvered flank. He stepped inside, and it melted shut behind him. The VSTOL lifted silently into the Kuala Lumpur night. It was 10:10 p.m. local time, on October 1.
“He was a waste of time,” Rafiq told Arden, later. “He gave me nothing. Why didn’t he mention the link with Marek? I gave him at least three opportunities, and he missed them all.”
She said nothing.
“He’s not good enough,” he said, unwittingly echoing Olivia. “I should have sent someone better. Why did I pick him for this mission anyway?”
Still she said nothing.
“I really don’t care about her, Arden. Better if they don’t kill her, but if they do it isn’t the end of the world.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Of course not. It would be sensational, and public, and would throw everything into chaos. But I’d back myself to be better than them in picking my way through the wreckage.”
“Do you think,” she asked him, “the Secretary-General will go to war with you over UNESCO?”
“He’ll try, but a no-confidence vote will fail. I have the voting covered.” He paused, and added, “I’m proud of UNEX. It works. It delivers on schedule and on budget. But it’s unelected; it could turn into a monster. That’s what he’ll argue in the General Assembly. He’ll lose, but he does have a point.”
“Maybe it works because it’s unelected.”
“Maybe...Arden, about Anwar. I gave him at least three openings to mention Marek and he missed them all. He knew, from you, that Marek’s the common factor in Levin’s and Asika’s deaths, but he didn’t mention it.”
“He’s only a Consultant. He’s not good at the Before and After.”
“He was a waste of time. He gave me nothing. I thought I’d shaken him when I started acting like I was in trouble, but it didn’t work. Wasn’t my acting convincing enough?”
“Yes,” Arden said. “It convinced me.”