CHAPTER 30
Gaffney held the stiffened filament of the whiphound against Mercier’s throat in much the same way that Dreyfus had held the whiphound against his own. They were standing outside the operating theatre where the Zulu team were still at work.
‘I can’t let you in there, Sheridan.’
Gaffney let the sharp edge of the filament draw a dab of blood. ‘It’s not a question of “can’t”, I’m afraid. You’re going to do it, or they’re going to have another head to reattach when they’re done with Jane.’
‘I can’t allow you to hurt the Supreme Prefect.’
Gaffney’s thumb caressed the handle of the whiphound. ‘Open the door. I won’t ask again.’
Mercier palmed the door, ignoring the signs warning him against entry. The door slid open, revealing the gowned backs of Demikhov’s crash team standing at their pedestals with the medical servitors beyond them. For a moment all was deceptively normal. Mercier heard the urgent but calm voices of the surgeons discussing the progress so far; he saw gloved fingers reach out towards data panes, switching between display options. Then one of the gowned figures became aware that the door had opened. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she took in the spectacle of Gaffney holding Mercier hostage.
‘Is there a problem?’ Demikhov asked.
‘What does it look like, shit-for-brains?’
‘We’re in the middle of a delicate procedure here,’ Demikhov said, still keeping admirably cool. ‘If you’ve got a problem, if there’s something you want, I suggest you take it up with Senior Prefect Clearmountain.’
‘Tell your staff to suspend the machines and step away from their pedestals.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’
‘I’ll kill Mercier if you don’t.’
‘We’re trying to save the life of the supreme prefect. In case you haven’t been informed, her head and body were separated when we removed the scarab.’
‘I don’t like repeating myself. Tell your staff to do what I just said.’
‘Whatever you want, whatever demands you might have, we can’t give it to you.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ Gaffney let the whiphound bite deeper, until blood began to trickle down Mercier’s throat in a continuous flow. ‘I won’t ask again. Do what I say and I promise that neither Mercier nor the supreme prefect will come to harm. Fuck with me and you’re going to be mopping up into the middle of next week.’
‘Please,’ Mercier said.
Demikhov breathed in deeply and nodded to his staff. Gloved fingers touched panes. The surgical robots halted.
‘Now step away from the pedestals,’ Gaffney said. ‘As far as you can go.’
The staff shuffled back until they had all taken at least ten paces. Gaffney pushed Mercier forward, keeping the whiphound in place. They walked between the pedestals, then eased past the poised medical servitors to stand by the patient. Since Mercier had last viewed the scene, the two tables had been brought closer so that the gap between head and neck was only ten centimetres. The complexity of the operation was even more humbling in close-up. Aumonier’s head rested in a padded cradle, with constantly swivelling trawl probes arranged around her shaven scalp in a barbed halo. Oxygenation of the head was being maintained by a tangle of arterial shunts inserted into the skin of the neck or up through the stump itself. A handful of nerves had already been rejoined across the divide, using jumper cables to bridge the gap between the quickmatter cylinders that tipped the end of each nerve.
‘You’re a doctor,’ Gaffney told Mercier. ‘How long do you think she can last without those lines running into her head?’
‘Without blood? Not very long.’
‘Put some numbers on that for me. How many minutes are we talking about? Three? Five? Six?’
‘Four at the most. Why?’
‘Four it is, then. Snap off your bracelet and hold it up to my mouth.’
Mercier did as he was told, fumbling as he released his bracelet.
‘Put me through to Clearmountain,’ Gaffney said.
The acting supreme prefect answered almost immediately. ‘This is Clearmountain. Is something the matter, Doctor—’
‘This isn’t Mercier. It’s Gaffney.’
Clearmountain comprehended the implications quickly enough. ‘This is unexpected, Sheridan.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not staying around.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m down with Demikhov, in the theatre. I’m standing right next to Jane. Nice work he’s done so far.’
‘Don’t lay a finger on Aumonier,’ Clearmountain said.
‘Jane’s going to be just dandy. That is, provided you don’t do anything to annoy me.’
‘I’m sure we can work something out.’
‘Actually, I’m sure we can’t. I’m finished here. I’ve burnt my bridges. It might surprise you, but I’m a rational man. I did everything I did because I believed it was the right thing for the citizenry. I still believe that. I love this goddamn organisation, or at least what it used to stand for. But I know I have no future unless Aurora wins against Panoply.’
‘She’s a machine, Sheridan. You’ve been working for an alpha-level intelligence, the ghost of a girl who should have died fifty-five years ago.’
‘Aurora’s nature is irrelevant. It’s her intentions that count.’
‘She’s a mass murderer. We’ve received direct confirmation that all the citizens inside House Aubusson were murdered shortly after the takeover.’
‘Nice try,’ Gaffney said.
‘It’s the truth.’
Mercier thought he caught a twitch of hesitation before Gaffney answered. ‘She wants to protect people. She’d hardly start murdering them if that was her objective.’
‘Listen to me, I’m begging you. Aurora is not what you think she is. Her only goal is her own survival.’
‘You know,’ Gaffney said, ‘I really think you could have tried a bit harder than that. I mean, honestly. Do you think I’m going to drop everything and roll over like a puppy just because you tell me some people have been murdered?’
‘I’ll show you,’ Clearmountain said. ‘I’ll let you interview Prefect Ng as soon as she returns to Panoply.’
‘Sorry, but I’m not planning on staying that long.’ Without warning, he released his hold on Mercier, pushing him away with such force that the doctor tripped over his own feet and fell backwards against one of the servitors, toppling it noisily. ‘Join the others,’ he said.
‘Sheridan?’ Clearmountain said.
‘Still here.’ Gaffney had snatched Mercier’s bracelet as he pushed him away. He snapped it around his own wrist and continued speaking. ‘I’m leaving, but not before you’ve done a couple of things for me. You can begin by telling me where Dreyfus is.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘I’m standing less than a metre from the supreme prefect, with a whiphound. Do you want to rethink your response?’
Clearmountain answered after a pause. ‘Dreyfus is somewhere else in the Glitter Band. I can give you the coordinates in a moment—’
Mercier pulled himself to his feet, bruised but otherwise unhurt. He touched a hand to the drying scab on his throat, judging that the wound was superficial.
‘Oh, nice try,’ Gaffney said. ‘Let’s have a little look here, shall we?’ He reached down and tugged at one of the lines running into Aumonier’s neck until it popped out. ‘I’ve just pulled something free. I don’t know if it was important or not.’
‘Sheridan—’
‘I’ll ask again. Where is Dreyfus? Don’t lie to me, Clearmountain. I’ve spent my entire professional life spotting liars.’
‘A secure holding facility on Marco’s Eye—’