‘If any of them did,’ she said, ‘they’re keeping their mouths shut and waiting to see how things develop.’
Luc licked dry lips and tried to ignore the thumping of his heart. ‘They’re not the only ones who can override Vanaheim’s security,’ he pointed out.
She smirked. ‘You still haven’t ruled me out as a suspect, have you?’
‘No,’ Luc admitted. ‘Even if I wanted to, how could I? The circumstantial evidence against you is still strong.’
‘Why,’ she asked, ‘would I get you to carry out this investigation, if I’d killed Sevgeny myself?’
‘To try and make yourself look less guilty,’ he replied. He nodded towards the tower. ‘The question is, what can I do now? Cheng just said the investigation is over, and . . . I still have this thing squatting inside my skull.’
De Almeida shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on Luc. ‘I told you I’d do what I could to help retard its growth, didn’t I? And as for the investigation, it isn’t finished until I say it is.’
‘If Father Cheng doesn’t want me on Vanaheim, I’m not sure just what you expect me to do,’ Luc protested.
‘I run the security networks, remember? I can get you onto Vanaheim without anyone else knowing.’
He stared at her. ‘Do you realize what you just said?’
She nodded stiffly. ‘Of course I do. And yes, I could easily have delivered Reto Falla to Vanaheim without Cheng or anyone else knowing – but I didn’t.’ She paused, her gaze flickering across his face. ‘Why don’t you put your fabulous gut instinct to work and tell me if you really think I had something to do with it?’
Luc sighed. ‘No, I don’t think you did.’
She arched her head. ‘Why not?’
He hesitated, wondering just how much he really did trust his instinct. ‘Because you don’t act like guilty people usually do,’ he explained. ‘Now I’ve got a question for you.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘I don’t get it. Why do you still need me? Surely if you want to carry out some private investigation behind Father Cheng’s back, you could do it yourself.’
‘Why are you so desperate to get out of this?’ she demanded. ‘Don’t you want me to fix that thing in your head before it kills you?’
He felt like a butterfly squirming as it was pinned to a board. ‘Of course I do.’
‘There are places that I may ask you to go, and people I may ask you to speak to, that might present me with problems if I tried to do it myself.’
‘What people? What places?’
She smiled enigmatically. ‘The less you know for now, the better. There’ll be a funeral service on Vanaheim for Sevgeny tomorrow, and I want you to be there.’
Luc glanced in the direction of the White Palace, mostly obscured by a tower on the opposite side of the street. ‘If Cheng or Cripps found out, they’d have me killed.’
She nodded. ‘For now, you’ll data-ghost through one of my private channels. That way I can make absolutely sure no one finds out you’re there, although you should still be able to communicate with me in secret.’
Luc winced as the street lights became suddenly brighter. He pressed his fingers against his eyes and stared down at the ground.
‘Mr Gabion?’
‘I . . .’
A high-pitched humming filled his ears. He thought he heard a voice, but far away, and lost in the noise. There was something familiar about it. He staggered slightly as a terrible, throbbing pain consumed his thoughts.
‘Gabion? What is it?’ demanded de Almeida. ‘Another seizure?’
He managed to nod, and she reached up with her other hand, pressing gloved fingers against his scalp. Her touch was softer, more delicate than he’d expected. She was close enough that he could smell her, and for some reason he found himself thinking of Eleanor spread beneath him, her skin painted with perspiration.
‘What are you doing?’ he mumbled.
‘Pulling data from the neural taps I put in your skull the other day,’ she said distractedly. ‘The growth-rate of your lattice is accelerating.’
Shit. ‘Can you do something?’ he pleaded, feeling a surge of panic.
‘I can only do my best,’ she muttered, and after a moment the pain slowly faded once more to a distant numbness. The relief was overwhelming.
‘What did you do?’
‘I made some temporary adjustments,’ she said, taking her hand from his scalp and stepping back. ‘Better?’
He nodded.
‘Now you have another reason to come back to Vanaheim. While you’re there, I can do more to help you.’
‘Not if I’m only there as a data-ghost.’
‘That’s only a temporary measure,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll bring you there in person soon enough.’
Even if you didn’t kill Vasili, I can’t think of anyone in a better position to do it, he thought.
He glanced up at a faint hum from above, and watched as a flier dropped down from out of the gloom, settling onto the road nearby.
‘I’ll send a flier for you tomorrow, just before the service,’ she said. ‘It’ll take you to a private office on the White Palace. Once there, you’ll be able to data-ghost to Vanaheim.’
‘Fine,’ said Luc, and watched as de Almeida walked away, her long, dark coat swaying with the movement of her hips as she boarded the flier. His eyes followed the craft as it lifted on AG fields that bowed the rain around its hull before finally speeding upwards and into the sky.
NINE
Luc dreamed he was back on Aeschere, lost in claustrophobic passageways crowded with mandalas and leering statues.
This isn’t real, he gasped as Antonov leaned over him, playing with the wriggling worm-like mechant.
Very astute, Antonov replied, grinning down at him. You’ve met Zelia by now, haven’t you? Be careful of that one.
Luc struggled to free himself from the chair he had been bound to. Don’t do this to me, he cried. I can’t go through this again.
I wish I could stop this, Mr Gabion, said Antonov, shaking his head sadly, I really do. But this isn’t the kind of dream where you can pinch yourself and wake up; you know that already. You’re reliving all this because there’s a war inside your skull, and I’m winning.
No. Zelia de Almeida is helping me. She’ll undo whatever damage you’ve done to me.
The neuro-suppressants she put inside you? They only suppress your conscious awareness of a process that can’t be stopped. Didn’t she tell you that?
She told me she could save me!
Antonov laughed a rich, hearty laugh, leaning back and raising his face to the ceiling. She’s bluffing, he said, bringing his gaze back down. Or maybe she thinks she really can retard the lattice’s growth, but I seriously doubt it. What I put inside your head is far in advance of the kind of technology even the Temur Council allow themselves. No, my dear boy, she’s more interested in saving her own skin than anything else. At best, you’re a puzzle to be unlocked, so she can find out what I’m really up to.
Then why not just tell me why you put this thing inside me, damn it! Luc screamed.
Because we are engaged in a game, Luc – and a very dangerous one, Antonov replied. And it is never a good idea to show one’s hand too soon.
You’re killing me because I found a way to stop you.
Antonov looked confused for a moment. You think this is about revenge? He shook his head. I’m saving your life, and mine as well.