As for her search for the truth about the scarred girl, it had ground to a halt. Apprentice Pod had known nothing—or pretended as much—and she could think of nowhere else to turn.
Then, at breakfast time on the third day of London’s flight from Panzerstadt-Bayreuth, a letter came for her. She had no idea who would have written to her, and she turned the envelope over in her hands a couple of times, staring at the Tier Six postmark and feeling oddly afraid.
When she finally tore it open a sliver of paper dropped into her algae-flakes; ordinary London notepaper, recycled so many times that it was as soft and hairy as felt, with a watermark that said “Waste not—want not”.
Dear Miss Vallentine,
Please help me there is something I must tell you. I will be at Pete’s Eats in Belsize Park, Tier Five today at 11am.
Singed yours truly,
A few weeks earlier Katherine would have been excited, but she was in no mood for mysteries any more. It was probably somebody’s idea of a joke, she thought. She was in no mood for jokes, either. How could she be, with London fleeing for its life and the lower tiers full of suffering and misery? She flung the note into the recycling bin and pushed her breakfast away uneaten, then went off to wash again.
But she was curious, in spite of herself. When nine o’clock came she said, “I will not go.”
At nine-thirty she told Dog, “It would be pointless, there won’t be anybody there.”
At ten she muttered, “Pete’s Eats—what sort of name is that? They probably made it up.”
Half an hour later she was waiting at the Central Shaft terminus for a down elevator.
She got off at Low Holborn and walked to the tier’s edge through streets of shabby metal flats. She had put on her oldest clothes and walked fast with her head down and Dog close against her. She didn’t feel proud any more when people stared. She imagined them saying, “That’s Katherine Valentine, a stuck-up little miss from Tier One. They don’t know they’re bom, those High Londoners.”
Belsize Park was almost deserted, the air thick with grainy smog from London’s engines. The lawns and flowerbeds had all been given over to agriculture years and years before and the only people she could see were some labourers from Parks Gardens who were moving along the rows of cabbages, spraying them with something to kill greenfly. Nearby stood a tatty conical building with a sign on its roof that read “Pete’s Eats” and, in smaller letters underneath, “Cafe”. There were metal tables under awnings on the pavement outside the door, and more tables inside. People sat talking and smoking in the thin flicker of a half-power argon globe. A boy sitting alone at a table near the door stood up and waved. Dog wagged his tail. It took Katherine a moment to recognize Apprentice Pod.
“I’m Bevis,” he said, smiling nervously as Katherine sat down opposite him. “Bevis Pod.”
“I remember.”
“I’m glad you came, Miss. I’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since you come down to Section 60, but I didn’t want the Guild to know I’d been in touch with you. They don’t like us talking to outsiders. But I’ve got the day off ’cos they’re preparing for a big meeting, so I came up here. You don’t see many Engineers eating in here.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Katherine to herself, looking at the menu. There was a big colour picture of something called a “Happy Meal”, a wedge of impossibly pink meat sandwiched between two rounds of algae-bread. She ordered mint tea. It came in a glastic tumbler and tasted of chemicals. “Are all Tier Five restaurants like this?”
“Oh no,” said Bevis Pod. “This one’s much nicer than the rest.” He could not stop staring at her hair. He had spent his whole life in the Engineer warrens of the Gut and he had never seen anyone before with hair like hers, so long and shining and full of life. The Engineers said hair was unnecessary; a vestige of the ground-dwelling past, but when he saw Katherine’s, it made him wonder…
“You said you needed my help…” Katherine prompted.
“Yes,” said Bevis. He glanced over his shoulder as if to check that nobody was watching them. “It’s about what you asked. I couldn’t tell you down at the Turd Tanks. Not with Nimmo watching. I was in enough trouble already, for trying to help that poor man…”
His dark eyes were full of tears again, and Katherine thought it strange that an Engineer could cry so easily.
“Bevis, it’s not your fault,” she said. “Now what about the girl? Did you see her?”
Bevis nodded, thinking back to the night London ate Salthook. “I saw her run past, with that Apprentice Historian chasing after her. He shouted for help, so I ran after him. I saw the girl turn when she got to the waste-chutes. There was something wrong with her face…”
Katherine nodded. “Go on.”
“I heard her shouting at him. I couldn’t catch it all, over the engines and the noise of the Dismantling Yards. But she said something about your father, Miss. And then she pointed at herself and said, ‘something something something Hester Shaw’. And then she jumped.”
“And dragged poor Tom with her.”
“No, Miss. He was left there, looking a bit stupid. Then the smoke came down and I couldn’t see nothing, and next thing I knew there were policemen everywhere, so I made myself scarce. I wasn’t supposed to leave my post, you see, so I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d seen.”
“But you’re telling me,” said Katherine.
“Yes, Miss.” The apprentice blushed.
“Hester Shaw?” Katherine turned the name over in her mind, but it meant nothing to her. Nor did she understand his description of events, which didn’t seem to tally with Father’s. Bevis must have made a mistake, she decided.
He glanced around nervously again, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Did you mean what you said, Miss, about your dad? Could he really do something to help the prisoners?”
“He will when I tell him what’s happening,” vowed Katherine. “I’m sure he doesn’t know. But there’s no need to call me Miss; I’m Katherine. Kate.”
“Right,” said Bevis solemnly. “Kate.” He smiled again, but he still looked troubled. “I’m loyal to the Guild,” he explained. “I never wanted to be anything but an Engineer. But I never expected to get assigned to the experimental prison. Keeping people in cages and making them work in the Gut, and wade about in those turd-tanks—that’s not Engineering. That’s just wicked. I do what I can to help them, but I can’t do much, and the supervisors just want to work them to death and then send them up to K Division in plastic bags, so even when they’re dead they won’t get no rest.”
“What is this K Division?” asked Katherine, remembering how Nimmo had hushed the other apprentice when she mentioned it. “Is it part of the prison?”
“Oh no. It’s up top. In the Engineerium. It’s some sort of experimental department, run by Dr Twix.”
“What does she use dead bodies for?” asked Katherine nervously, not at all sure that she wanted to know.
Bevis Pod went a little paler. “It’s just a rumour, Miss, but some people in the Guild say she’s building Stalkers. Resurrected Men.”
“Great Clio!” Katherine thought of what she had been taught about the Stalkers. She knew that her father had dug up some rusty skeletons for the Engineers to study, but he had told her they were only interested in the electrical brains. Could they really be trying to make new ones?
“Why?” she asked. “I mean, they were soldiers, weren’t they? Sort of human tanks, built for some old war…”