‘Why can’t you use that flier to get out of here yourself?’
‘It’s programmed to refuse my orders under any circumstances,’ Maxwell replied.
‘But if I took you on board with me—’
Maxwell shook his head. ‘Then it would never even take off.’ He shrugged. ‘Besides, where the hell could I go?’
Luc followed him along a short corridor, then down a winding stairwell, its walls bare and undecorated compared to the rest of the library complex.
‘But where can I go from here?’ he called after Maxwell’s retreating back. ‘I’ve got no idea what the hell’s happened to Zelia, where she’s gone or if she’s in trouble of some kind. Without her, there’s nowhere for me to go.’
They came to a single steel door at the bottom of the stairwell. The temperature had plummeted, the air frosting with their every breath.
‘I knew Zelia well, back in the day,’ said Maxwell, stopping for a moment, ‘and she’s more resourceful than you imagine. Whatever’s happened to her, I wouldn’t assume you’ve seen the last of her just yet.’
Luc followed him through this last door. Suddenly he was outside, a freezing wind sucking all the heat from his skin, as he found they had emerged into the cavernous hangar he had first sighted from the foothills. There was, he saw, enough space to park a fleet of fliers.
The storm that nearly killed him had passed, and the sun hung sharp and bright in a sky striped with narrow wisps of cirrus. He stepped forward, hugging himself against the cold, and realized belatedly that he’d left his cold-weather gear behind. Idiot.
Mechants dropped down from some point in the cavern’s ceiling and moved towards them, weapons unfolding from their bellies. Luc turned to look at Maxwell, who had come to a halt just a short distance beyond the steel door.
‘This is as far as I go, I think,’ said Maxwell, retreating closer to the door.
Luc glanced between Maxwell and the approaching mechants. ‘Are we in any danger?’
‘I certainly am, if I try and go any farther than this. I don’t see any reason why they would want to harm you, however.’ He pointed towards a low-slung shape parked nearby and partly hidden beneath a heavy grey tarpaulin, AG field generators bulking out its sides.
‘That’s the flier you were talking about?’
Maxwell nodded. ‘I don’t see any others, do you?’
‘How did you do it?’ asked Luc, staring back at Maxwell in wonder. ‘I came here looking for Ambassador Sachs, and somehow I wound up working for you.’
Maxwell smiled faintly. ‘This is all Winchell’s doing, remember? Vasili would never have sought out the protocols or Cheng’s data-cache if not for that old renegade.’ He nodded towards the flier. ‘Go now, Mr Gabion, before the Sandoz arrive.’
‘One last thing. You said the Ambassador came to you for advice. About what?’
Maxwell’s shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. ‘When I say there isn’t much time, I mean—’
‘Please,’ Luc begged.
‘He was trying to prevent a war, Mr Gabion. A war between the Tian Di and the Coalition.’ Maxwell almost shouted the words in his agitation. ‘I’d tell you more, but there simply isn’t the time.’
Luc glanced towards the horizon beyond the foothills, and saw a tiny black dot moving across the sky towards them. ‘If I take off now, they’ll see me.’
Maxwell took a step forward, only for the mechants to drop down in front of him, blocking his path. ‘This really isn’t the time for debate,’ he yelled. ‘Stay here, and you’re dead for sure.’
Luc ran towards the flier, and felt a flush of relief when the mechants guarding Maxwell made no move towards him. He quickly pulled the tarpaulin to one side, revealing a hatch in the side of the craft that hissed open automatically. Gazing into its darkened interior, he then turned back to Maxwell.
‘Go back inside,’ Luc yelled over to him, ‘and wait there. I’ve got an idea.’
‘What the hell are you doing, Mr Gabion?’
‘You’ll see.’
He climbed in through the open hatch, then turned, yanking the tarpaulin back down until it was draped back over the side of the craft. As he clambered into the cockpit, the hatch closed once more, sealing him inside.
Once there, he sat in the pilot’s seat and waited for the Sandoz to arrive, wondering if what he was about to attempt wasn’t in fact the stupidest thing he had ever done.
‘This is insane,’ Maxwell hissed.
‘Just bear with me, okay?’
He stood side by side with Luc’s data-ghost in the library’s main hall, a real-time projection of the hangar floating before them. They could see that an armoured Sandoz heavy-lifter had just dropped down to a landing not far from the parked flier, still stationary beneath its grey tarpaulin. They watched as several figures emerged from the heavy-lifter, too far away to be immediately identified. All but two of the figures wore the heavy armoured suits of Sandoz warriors.
Maxwell made a gesture, and the view zoomed in towards the two in question. Luc saw with a spasm of shock that one of them was Eleanor; she wore her SecInt uniform, and was accompanied by Bailey Cripps.
They watched as Cripps, Eleanor and the soldiers made their way inside the library. Luc flexed his fingers by his sides, the breath catching in his throat.
Even though he had data-ghosted many times before, the depth of experience afforded by his lattice made it an effort of will to remember where he was, in reality, aboard Maxwell’s flier, and not in fact standing next to Maxwell in the library. He’d tried to persuade Maxwell to do the same – hide elsewhere in the library and present only his data-ghost to Cripps – but, as Maxwell himself had pointed out, there were only so many places for him to hide. Something in the other man’s manner gave Luc the sense that this was a confrontation the Councillor had been anticipating for a very, very long time.
‘She shouldn’t be here,’ Luc muttered. Cripps must have followed up on his threat. He should have anticipated something like this.
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Maxwell.
‘That’s Eleanor Jaq. She’s a SecInt officer. Cripps threatened to arrest her at one point, to try and force me to turn informant for him.’
‘Ah.’ Maxwell nodded. ‘You believe she is his prisoner.’
The view changed, showing Cripps leading Eleanor and the Sandoz through the steel door connecting the hangar to the library, then up the steps leading to the main atrium. Eleanor walked side by side with Cripps, who leaned in towards her and said something inaudible into her ear. Eleanor smiled uncertainly in response.
‘If I had to be honest,’ said Maxwell, nodding towards Eleanor’s image, ‘she’s not acting like a prisoner. And perhaps you haven’t noticed, but she is armed.’
Luc started to say something, but the words died in his throat when he saw Maxwell was right. She had a holster on her hip.
‘There’s only one of her,’ Luc managed to say, ‘and several of them. If she tried to . . .’
‘I think you know as well as I do they would have disarmed her immediately if she was under arrest,’ Maxwell pointed out. ‘What do you intend to do now?’
‘Just what I was going to do anyway,’ he said, feeling the first curdling threads of betrayal knot themselves around his stomach.
‘Then you’d better start now,’ said Maxwell, ‘because they’re going to be here any second.’
Luc nodded tightly. ‘Good luck.’
‘My luck ran out long ago, Mr Gabion,’ Maxwell replied with a sigh. ‘If I had any to spare, I’d let you have it. You’re going to need it.’
Luc’s data-ghost vanished from Maxwell’s side, reappearing a moment later at the far end of the library’s central atrium, and positioned slightly behind one of several pillars supporting a first-floor gallery. Local micro-relays fed him the sound of voices echoing from the high, vaulted ceiling, and he peered round the side of the pillar to see Cripps emerge from the stairwell, followed by Eleanor and the Sandoz. A library mechant came swooping down, falling into a stationary position to the one side of and slightly above Maxwell, its audio circuits open so Luc could hear everything that was said.