Blue Remembered Earth (23 page)

‘Let’s hope,’ Geoffrey said.

A ching icon popped into her visual field. Caller: Hector Akinya. Location: Akinya household, East African Federation, Earth.

She groaned. ‘Oh, this couldn’t possibly get any better. Now Hector wants a word with me.’

‘Any reason you wouldn’t normally take that call?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘On the rare occasions when Hector and I need to talk, we usually ching into neutral territory. But it’s going to look odd if I don’t pick up. Jitendra – go and make some coffee. Gleb, maybe you could help him? Think we could all use some fresh.’

As they headed to the kitchen, she voked the figment into being, making sure Geoffrey was able to see it as well. Hector’s standing form smiled, taking in his surroundings with something between horror and detached anthropological fascination. ‘This is a rare privilege,’ he said. ‘I’ve seldom had the pleasure of the Descrutinised Zone before, much less your lodgings.’

‘My home,’ Sunday told him. ‘And you’re here under sufferance.’

‘Well, I don’t suppose there’s any point in being a struggling artist unless you go the full hair shirt. How are you, anyway? And how are you, Geoffrey? We were beginning to become slightly concerned. It’s been a while since we heard anything from either of you.’

‘You needn’t lose any sleep,’ Geoffrey said.

‘Oh, I won’t, not at all. Nor will Lucas. He’s doing splendidly, by the way, leg healing nicely, and he’s no less interested in your welfare than I am. You
were
going to get around to calling us, weren’t you?’

‘I said I’d be doing some sightseeing before returning to Earth,’ Geoffrey said.

‘As well you must.’ Hector made it sound as if Geoffrey was begging approval for something unspeakably sordid. ‘But you can also understand our . . . I won’t say anxiety, rather our stringent need to have this matter resolved as speedily, and as cleanly, as possible.’

‘What matter would that be, cousin?’ Sunday asked.

‘Credit me with at least some intelligence, cousin. Your brother is with you, and we’re picking up reports of a diplomatic breach that can be tied to both an associate of yours and a part of the Moon that our grandmother had a direct connection with – do you honestly expect me to dismiss these connections?’

‘You’re very good, Hector,’ Sunday said.

‘I do my best.’

‘But there’s no connection, I’m afraid.’ She took a vaulting leap of faith. ‘Yes, Geoffrey told me about this glove you’ve all got so worked up about. I made him. But that’s an end to it. This . . . what did you call it? Diplomatic breach? It’s nothing to do with us.’

‘Our sources point to the detention of a close friend of yours.’

‘I’ve got hundreds of close friends. What they get up to is their own business.’

‘And the coincidence of this friend – his name’s Chama Akbulut, by the way – having been arrested close to our grandmother’s crash site?’

‘You said it, Hector – coincidence. And what crash are we talking about anyway?’

Hector made to speak, then tightened his lips and shook his broad, handsome head very slowly. The figment swivelled its baleful, profoundly disappointed gaze onto her brother. ‘This is all deeply regrettable, Geoffrey. You shouldn’t have spoken to your sister. That in itself is a clear violation of our arrangement.’

‘My brother’s a lousy liar,’ Sunday said. ‘But the fault’s yours for sending him here under false pretences in the first place. And whatever promise you made to him, you’d better keep it.’

‘That will depend on the safe return of the glove, and your full and open cooperation henceforth,’ Hector replied.

‘You’ll get your damned glove,’ Geoffrey said.

Hector nodded once. ‘I expect nothing less. But I meant what I just said, and it applies equally to you, Sunday: Lucas and I demand complete transparency.’

The figment vanished. Sunday stared at the part of the room where Hector had been, feeling as if she was still being watched by a malevolent presence.

‘You could have declined the ching,’ Gleb said, sidling back in from the kitchen.

‘And make it look like we have something to hide?’ Jitendra was carrying in the coffee. Though her nerves wouldn’t thank her for it, Sunday gladly accepted one of the steaming mugs. ‘No. I had to take the bind.’

Her brother scratched at his curls. ‘Wonder how Hector found out so quickly?’

‘Like he said – sources. We do business with the Chinese, so why shouldn’t Hector have a friend or two on the other side of the Ghost Wall? For all we know, this goes all the way up to Mister Pei.’

‘Do you think we should call anyone?’ Gleb asked. ‘I mean, my husband’s just been arrested!’

Sunday’s stomach kinked tighter. Chama was her friend, but Gleb was facing the arrest and detention of the person he most loved in the universe. They’d been together a long time, the zookeepers, and their marriage was as strong as any she knew. Even when she tried to imagine Jitendra being in the same position as Chama, she didn’t think it could be compared to what Gleb was now going through. As cold as that made her feel, it was the truth.

Then again, Chama had a history of this kind of thing. So, for that matter, did Gleb.

She heard footsteps outside, clanging up the external staircase. ‘It can’t be the authorities,’ she said quietly. ‘There’s nothing to tie any of us back to the border incident.’

‘Unless,’ Jitendra said, ‘your cousin decided to spread the news.’

Geoffrey buried his face in his hands. ‘This was a mistake from the word go.’

‘Show some spine, brother. We can’t be arrested or extradited without due process, and we’re not the ones in deep shit on the other side of the Ghost Wall.’

Someone knocked. Sunday thought she recognised the rhythm. ‘Open up, please,’ she heard a woman demand, in a voice she also knew.

She set down her coffee and composed herself. Easy to toss out assurances about not being arrested, but she wasn’t nearly as certain about that in her own mind. Pissing on Chinese territorial sovereignty was a fairly big deal. It was entirely possible that the ‘usual’ protocols would be suspended.

She opened the door to a woman in a high-collared blouse and long formal skirt, wearing a face Sunday didn’t know.

‘It’s June,’ the face announced.

‘How do I know that for sure?’

‘You don’t. But let me in anyway.’

Sunday admitted the proxy, shutting the door behind it. The face melted like a Dali clock. When it reconfigured, Sunday was looking at June Wing, chinging a Plexus claybot similar to the prototype Sunday had puppeted on Earth.

‘This isn’t going to be a social call, is it?’ Sunday said.

The claybot adjusted its skirt as it sat down. ‘Things have come to a pretty pass, if you don’t mind my saying so. Precisely what was Chama Akbulut doing behind the Ghost Wall?’

‘The less you know about that, the better,’ Jitendra said.

‘I’ll ask again, in that case.’

Sunday looked at Jitendra, at Gleb and her brother, then back to the golem. The knot in her stomach was now so tangled that it could have supplied a topologist with an entire thesis. She was astonished word had got around as quickly as it had, but then she supposed she shouldn’t have been. Just as there were commercial interests between Akinya Space and China, so Plexus had its affiliations, its insider contacts.

‘Digging for something that belongs to us,’ she said. ‘To my family. No one else’s business.’

‘And this was a spur-of-the-moment thing, was it? And why was Chama doing the digging, not you?’

‘Chama took unilateral—’ Gleb began.

‘Because he seeks to put you in debt to him?’ June Wing snapped. ‘Yes, I know Chama’s methods. Brazen and . . . what’s the opposite of risk-averse? Foolhardy to the point of suicidal?’

‘The Chinese won’t want a diplomatic storm on their hands,’Jitendra said.

‘No,’ June Wing agreed. ‘And that’s presently about the only thing you’ve got in your favour.’

Sunday said, ‘My family will intervene.’

‘Only if there’s a direct threat to your liberty, and perhaps not even then,’ June Wing said, with icy plausibility. ‘As for Chama, why should they lift a finger to help him?’

‘If it’s a matter of keeping a family secret buried, maybe they’ll do just that,’ Gleb said.

The golem nodded keenly. ‘Yes, and optimism is a fine and wonderful thing and should be strenuously encouraged in the young. But my understanding is that Chama’s actions haven’t brought anything useful to light.’

‘You know a lot,’ Geoffrey said.

‘I’m June Wing,’ she answered, as if this was all the explanation any reasonable person could require.

‘Then they’ll have to let Chama go,’ Gleb said. ‘They can’t hold him for just digging up some soil.’

‘There was something in that box,’ Sunday pointed out. ‘I saw it myself. Junk, most likely, but not nothing. And who knows what it meant to Eunice, or what the Chinese might think it means?’

‘This is what will happen,’ June Wing said, in a firm, taking-charge tone that brooked no dissension. ‘We will allow the Chinese time to respond. A day, at the very least. Perhaps three. If there are no encouraging overtures from the Ghost Wall, then we will explore avenues of subtle commercial persuasion.’

‘That’ll work?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘Only if they don’t feel cornered. They use Plexus machines, billions of them, supplied and maintained under very competitive terms. They won’t be in a hurry to jeopardise that arrangement.’

‘And I doubt very much that Plexus would throw away a lucrative contract just to save a friend of a friend,’ said Geoffrey, drawing a glare from Sunday, who didn’t think he was helping matters.

‘It wouldn’t come to that,’ June Wing replied evenly. ‘But both parties have a vested interest in maintaining cordial relations.’

‘What worries me,’ Sunday said, ‘is what we’re going to owe you for getting Chama out of trouble.’

‘All you need worry about is keeping your family in check, Sunday. Leave this to me and there will be a satisfactory outcome. But if Akinya Space barge in with threats and sanctions, don’t expect Plexus to dig you out of the hole.’

Sunday shook her head. ‘I have no say over the cousins, I’m afraid. We’ll just have to hope that Hector bought my story, and doesn’t think there’s a connection between Chama and the glove.’

‘About which you’ve told me nothing.’

‘One thing at a time, June,’ Sunday answered.

June Wing made to reply, or at least looked on the cusp of answering. But then her face froze, paralysing into stiffness. The golem sat before them, posture waxwork rigid. All sense of life had deserted the claybot.

‘June?’ Jitendra asked.

‘Ching bind must have snapped,’ Sunday said. ‘June’s outside the Zone. Could the Chinese be blocking the quangle?’

‘Nothing that crude, but you’ve already seen what they’re capable of,’ Gleb answered.

The face shifted, regained animus. The claybot’s clothes morphed and recoloured. Now they were looking at a man of indeterminate age and ethnicity dressed in a sea-green satin suit. His face was strikingly bland and unmemorable, like some mathematical average of all human male faces. His skin pallor was an unrealistic pearl-grey, unlike any actual flesh tone seen outside of a mortuary. The pupil-less voids of his large dark eyes were thumb-holes punched through a mask.

‘You don’t know me,’ he said, smiling benignly, ‘but I think we’re about to get better acquainted.’

‘Who are you,’ Sunday said, ‘and what the fuck are you doing interrupting my conversation?’

‘Expediency,’ the man said, offering the palms of his hands. ‘A ching bind was open, a quangled path allocated. Rather than go through the frankly tiresome rigmarole of opening a second, I decided to make use of what already existed.’

‘I thought our comms were supposed to be secure,’ Jitendra said.

‘Ish,’ the man answered after a moment, his smile disclosing a toothless, tongueless emptiness instead of a mouth.

‘It’s the Pans,’ Geoffrey said, directing his statement at Gleb. ‘Isn’t it? You already told me the Pans have the ability to manipulate quangle traffic under everyone’s noses.’

‘It’s possible,’ Gleb said, as if it was the answer he feared the most.

‘I call myself Truro,’ the man said. ‘And yes, in a capacity that would be too tedious to presently explain, I do speak for the Panspermian Initiative.’

‘He’s lagged,’ Sunday said quietly. ‘I’ve been watching his reactions. He’s trying to get the jump on what we say, but he’s not quite good enough to hide it completely. Must be chinging in from Earth, or near-Earth space.’

‘My present whereabouts needn’t detain us,’ Truro said. ‘But I congratulate you on your perspicacity.’

‘What do you want with us?’ Sunday asked. If Gleb knew this man, he wasn’t saying.

‘Nothing. Precisely that. Which is to say, I want you to do nothing and say nothing. I can’t stress enough the importance of that. I am aware of your predicament – how could I not be, when Chama Akbulut is one of us? – and steps are already being taken to ameliorate the situation.’

‘I think we’ve got things covered, thanks,’ Geoffrey said.