Authors: Richard Morgan
“Still
curious huh?” she said.
“I
feel like a tourist. Answer me a question?”
“If I
can.”
“Well,
if these guys don’t practise birth control, there’s got to be an
awful lot of them, right. And Earth isn’t exactly a hive of activity
these days, so … Why aren’t they running things?”
Ortega and
her men swapped a set of unpleasant smiles. “Storage,” said the
mohican on my left.
I slapped
myself on the back of the neck, and then wondered if the gesture was in use
here. It’s the standard site for a cortical stack, after all, but then
cultural quirks don’t always work like that.
“Storage.
Of course.” I looked around at their faces. “There’s no
special exemption for them?”
“Nope.”
For some reason, this little exchange seemed to have made us all buddies. They
were relaxing. The same mohican went on to elaborate. “Ten years or three
months, it’s all the same to them. A death sentence every time. They
never come off stack. It’s cute, huh?”
I nodded.
“Very tidy. What happens to the bodies?”
The man
opposite me made a throwaway gesture. “Sold off, broken down for
transplants. Depends on the family.”
I turned
away and stared out of the window.
“Something
the matter, Kovacs?”
I faced
Ortega with a fresh smile gripping my face. It felt as if I was getting quite
good at them.
“No,
no. I was just thinking. It’s like a different planet.”
That cracked them up.
Suntouch
House
October
2nd
Takeshi-san
,
When
you receive this letter, you will doubtless be somewhat disoriented. I offer my
sincere apologies for this, but I have been assured that the training you
underwent with the Envoy Corps should enable you to deal with the situation.
Similarly, I assure you that I would not have subjected you to any of this had
my own situation not been desperate
.
My name
is Laurens Bancroft. Coming as you do from the colonies, this may not mean
anything to you. Suffice it to say that I am a rich and powerful man here on
Earth, and have made many enemies as a result. Six weeks ago I was murdered, an
act which the police, for reasons of their own, have chosen to regard as
suicide. Since the murderers ultimately failed I can only assume that they will
try again and, in view of the police attitude, they may well succeed
.
Clearly
you will wonder what all this has to do with you and why you have been dragged
a hundred and eighty-six light years out of storage to deal with such a local
matter. I have been advised by my lawyers to retain a private investigator, but
owing to my prominence in the global community, I am unable to trust anyone I
could engage locally. I was given your name by Reileen Kawahara, for whom I
understand you did some work on New Beijing eight years ago. The Envoy Corps
were able to locate you in Kanagawa within two days of my requesting your
whereabouts, though in view of your discharge and subsequent activities they
were unable to offer any kind of operational guarantees or pledges. It is my
understanding that you are your own man
.
The
terms under which you have been released are as follows: You are contracted to
work for me for a period of six weeks with an option for me to renew at the end
of that time should further work be necessary. During this time I shall be
responsible for all reasonable expenses incurred by your investigation. In
addition, I shall cover the cost of sleeve rental for this period. In the event
that you conclude the investigation successfully, the remainder of your storage
sentence at Kanagawa—one hundred and seventeen years and four
months—will be annulled and you will be refreighted to Harlan’s
World for immediate release in a sleeve of your own choosing. Alternatively, I
undertake to pay off the balance of the mortgage on your current sleeve here on
Earth and you may become a naturalised UN citizen. In either case the sum of one
hundred thousand UN dollars, or equivalent, will be credited to you
.
I
believe these terms to be generous but I should add that I am not a man to be
trifled with. In the event that your investigation fails and I am killed, or
that you attempt to in any way escape or evade the terms of your contract, the
sleeve lease will be terminated immediately and you will be returned to storage
to complete your sentence here on Earth. Any further legal penalties that you
incur may be added to that sentence. Should you choose not to accept my
contract from the outset, you will also be returned to storage immediately,
though I cannot undertake to refreight you to Harlan’s World in this case
.
I am
hopeful that you will see this arrangement as an opportunity, and agree to work
for me. In anticipation of this, I am sending a driver to collect you from the
storage facility. His name is Curtis and he is one of my most trusted
employees. He will be waiting for you in the release hall
.
I look
forward to meeting you at Suntouch House
.
Yours
sincerely
,
Laurens J. Bancroft
.
Suntouch House was aptly named. From Bay
City we flew south down the coast for about half an hour before the change in
engine pitch warned me that we were approaching our destination. By that time
the light through the right side windows was turning warm gold with the
sun’s decline towards the sea. I peered out as we started to descend and
saw how the waves below were molten copper and the air above pure amber. It was
like landing in a jar of honey.
The
transport sideslipped and banked, giving me a view of the Bancroft estate. It
edged in from the sea in neatly manicured tones of green and gravel around a sprawling
tile-roofed mansion big enough to house a small army. The walls were white, the
roofing coral and the army, if it existed, was out of sight. Any security
systems Bancroft had installed were very low-key. As we came lower I made out
the discreet haze of a power fence along one border of the grounds. Barely
enough to distort the view from the house. Nice.
Less than a
dozen metres up over one of the immaculate lawns the pilot kicked in the
landing brake with what seemed like unnecessary violence. The transport
shuddered from end to end and we came down hard amidst flying clods of turf.
I shot
Ortega a reproachful look which she ignored. She threw open the hatch and
climbed out. After a moment I joined her on the damaged lawn. Prodding at the
torn grass with the toe of one shoe, I shouted over the sound of the turbines.
“What was that all about? You guys pissed off with Bancroft just because
he doesn’t buy his own suicide?”
“No.”
Ortega surveyed the house in front of us as if she was thinking of moving in.
“No, that’s not why we’re pissed off with Mr.Bancroft.”
“Care
to tell me why?”
“You’re
the detective.”
A young
woman appeared from the side of the house, tennis racket in hand, and came
across the lawn towards us. When she was about twenty metres away, she stopped,
tucked the racket under her arm and cupped her hands to her mouth.
“Are
you Kovacs?”
She was beautiful
in a sun, sea and sand sort of way and the sports shorts and leotard she was
wearing displayed the fact to maximal effect. Golden hair brushed her shoulders
as she moved and the shout gave away a glimpse of milk white teeth. She wore
sweat bands at forehead and wrists and from the dew on her brow they were not
for show. There was finely toned muscle in her legs and a substantial bicep
stood out when she lifted her arms. Exuberant breasts strained the fabric of
the leotard. I wondered if the body was hers.
“Yes,”
I called back. “Takeshi Kovacs. I was discharged this afternoon.”
“You
were supposed to be met at the storage facility.” It was like an
accusation. I spread my hands.
“Well.
I was.”
“Not
by the
police
.” She stalked forward, eyes mostly on Ortega.
“You. I know you.”
“Lieutenant
Ortega,” said Ortega, as if she was at a garden party. “Bay City,
Organic Damage Division.”
“Yes.
I remember now.” The tone was distinctly hostile. “I assume it was
you who arranged for our chauffeur to be pulled over on some trumped-up
emissions charge.”
“No,
that would be Traffic Control, ma’am,” said the detective politely.
“I have no jurisdiction in that division.”
The woman
in front of us sneered.
“Oh,
I’m sure you haven’t, lieutenant. And I’m sure none of your
friends work there either.” The voice turned patronising.
“We’ll have him released before the sun goes down, you know.”
I glanced
sideways to see Ortega’s reaction, but there was none. The hawk profile
remained impassive. Most of me was preoccupied with the other woman’s
sneer. It was an ugly expression, and one that belonged on an altogether older
face.
Back up by
the house there were two large men with automatic weapons slung over their
shoulders. They had been standing under the eaves watching since we arrived,
but now they ambled out of the shade and began to make their way in our
direction. From the slight widening of the young woman’s eyes I guessed
that she had summoned them on an internal mike. Slick. On Harlan’s World
people are still a bit averse to sticking racks of hardware into themselves,
but it looked as if Earth was going to be a different proposition.
“You
are not welcome here, lieutenant,” said the young woman in a freezing
voice.
“Just
leaving, ma’am,” said Ortega heavily. She clapped me unexpectedly
on the shoulder and headed back to the transport at an easy pace. Halfway there
she suddenly stopped and turned back.
“Here,
Kovacs. Almost forgot. You’ll need these.”
She dug in
her breast pocket and tossed me a small packet. I caught it reflexively and
looked down. Cigarettes.
“Be
seeing you.”
She swung
herself aboard the transport and slammed the hatch. Through the glass I saw her
looking at me. The transport lifted on full repulse, pulverising the ground
beneath and ripping a furrow across the lawn as it swung west towards the
ocean. We watched it out of sight.
“Charming,”
said the woman beside me, largely to herself.
“Mrs.Bancroft?”
She swung
around. From the look on her face, I wasn’t much more welcome here than
Ortega had been. She had seen the lieutenant’s gesture of camaraderie and
her lips twitched with disapproval.
“My
husband sent a car for you, Mr.Kovacs. Why didn’t you wait for it?”
I took out
Bancroft’s letter. “It says here the car would be waiting for me.
It wasn’t.”
She tried
to take the letter from me and I lifted it out of her reach. She stood facing
me, flushed, breasts rising and falling distractingly. When they stick a body
in the tank, it goes on producing hormones pretty much the way it would if you
were asleep. I became abruptly aware that I was swinging a hard-on like a
filled fire hose.
“You
should have waited.”
Harlan’s
World, I remembered from somewhere, has gravity at about o.8g. I suddenly felt
unreasonably heavy again. I pushed out a compressed breath.
“Mrs.Bancroft,
if I’d waited, I’d still be there now. Can we go inside?”
Her eyes
widened a little, and I suddenly saw in them how old she really was. Then she
lowered her gaze and summoned composure. When she spoke again, her voice had
softened.
“I’m
sorry, Mr.Kovacs. I’ve forgotten my manners. The police, as you see, have
not been sympathetic. It’s been very upsetting, and we all still feel a
little on edge. If you can imagine—”
“There’s
no need to explain.”
“But
I am very sorry. I’m not usually like this. None of us are.” She
gestured around as if to say that the two armed guards behind her would
ordinarily have been bearing garlands of flowers. “Please accept my
apologies.”
“Of
course.”
“My
husband’s waiting for you in the seaward lounge. I’ll take you to
him immediately.”
The inside
of the house was light and airy. A maid met us at the veranda door and took
Mrs.Bancroft’s tennis racket for her without a word. We went down a
marbled hallway hung with art that, to my untutored eye, looked old. Sketches
of Gagarin and Armstrong, Empathist renderings of Konrad Harlan and Angin
Chandra. At the end of this gallery, set on a plinth, was something like a
narrow tree made out of crumbling red stone. I paused in front of it and
Mrs.Bancroft had to backtrack from the left turn she was making.
“Do
you like it?” she asked.
“Very
much. This is from Mars, isn’t it.”