Evolution (15 page)

Wolfe turns to the surgeon, ‘I don’t believe you have the power to stop her removal,’ he says coldly.

‘I assure you I have.’ The surgeon gathers up his papers and prepares to leave.

‘I advise you not to engage in a battle with me,’ says Wolfe, tight-lipped. ‘You won’t win. I will override your decision.’

I turn off the computer, slip out of the room and whiz along the corridor before the visitors emerge from the consulting room. I’ll thank Moira and Janey for their help later. I don’t want to run the risk of being seen lingering in this area. As I make my way back to Odysseus, I try to make sense of the events of the afternoon.

Thank Zeus for Mr Spencer and his insistence that he is in charge. This means there is no immediate danger of the baby being taken. At least not legally. But Odysseus should take Isis and Penelope back to C98 as soon as possible, just in case someone decides to abduct her.

I don’t trust Orlando Wolfe. Or Stella Jameson for that matter.

When I tell Odysseus what I’ve overheard he agrees that the sooner he takes Isis and Penelope back to Earth the better. ‘If she is strong enough,’ he says. ‘But we must do everything properly, with the release papers signed.’

Odysseus and I go to see Mr Spencer.

I start to introduce Odysseus to the surgeon, to explain that he’s a dear friend of mine, a brilliant historian, but the surgeon pre-empts me. ‘I know who he is, Michael. Odysseus’s fame stretches from Earth to the satellites. I’m delighted to meet you,’ he says and they shake hands. ‘Today of course you are here in a rather different role. As Isis’s father.’

When we tell him that we’ve come to ask him when Isis will be fit enough to travel, he answers, ‘As soon as you like. She’s a big strong girl and with her father beside her I’m sure all will go smoothly.’

I decide to come clean and tell Mr Spencer that I eavesdropped on his meeting this afternoon.

‘I know it wasn’t ethical, but I’m not sorry,’ I tell him.

‘When I found that my father, Stella and Orlando Wolfe were here, I just had to listen in.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘You hacked in and accessed our conversation?’

‘I have to admit I did. I was desperate, you see.’

Mr Spencer’s mouth twitches as he tries not to smile. ‘In the circumstances it’s not such a terrible crime, I suppose. You know the situation then. I agree with you that Isis and the baby should go back to Earth as soon as possible. I’ll get the necessary papers signed and she can leave.’

‘You mentioned danger,’ says Odysseus. ‘You think Penelope really is in danger of being abducted?’

‘Who knows when Mr Wolfe and his colleagues will be back with some sort of trumped up charge and fake papers to override my decision?’

‘They would go that far?’ Odysseus shakes his head in disbelief and I’m reminded how little corruption there is on Earth.

‘I’m afraid so. There are some people on Planet Oasis, who will stop at nothing to get their own way and I’m afraid the motive is not always altruistic.’

I see them off by the transporter. Isis is so excited to be going back to the place she thinks of as home. She can’t stop chattering. ‘Wait until her father sees his beautiful daughter. He’ll fall madly in love with her.’ She rolls her eyes up until the whites show and giggles.

Odysseus presses my hand and says we must meet again soon, moved by our reunion and the confidences we’ve shared.

‘Maybe you could come to C98 for a visit,’ Isis says to me.

‘Maybe.’ I remember that, as far as she is concerned, I
am still a mutant humanoid living in another compound. Better to leave it at that.

She has enough to think about, focusing on her new role as a mother, without worrying about me. I’m sorry to see them leave, but am sure it’s for the best.

Gemma is not present to say ‘goodbye’ to Isis. It’s her day off and she’s gone to Oasis to see her parents.

She’ll be back in Hos-sat this evening and we’re going to watch a film in the nurse’s home. Our first date, but I’m sure not our last.

But it’s not Gemma I’m thinking of after Isis has gone. It’s Father. He must be wrecked.

Such a cataclysmic division between him and Stella is bound to have devastating consequences. Her conduct was unforgivable. I remember the look she gave Wolfe and the way he almost touched her arm and then drew back and the way Father’s face gradually drained of colour. I try to imagine how my father must be feeling and the massive fight he and Stella must surely have. The two of them have to sort this out. No good me going home. I’d only be in the way.

And I think of Isis and Penelope and Odysseus and am so pleased that they’ve returned to Earth and that the baby is out of danger.

I stroll round the top floor of the circular covered balcony of the tower, looking out of its curved windows. Lord of all I survey. No view to speak of. One or two half built houses, an indication of a central road sketched in the dust. Not a city yet, but give it time. Give it time.

Sati hovers behind me. My shadow. ‘What’s the verdict?’ I ask her.

‘High,’ she says. ‘Very high.’

I can see she’s impressed. ‘You want to move in – or stay in the compound?’

She’s not my prisoner any more. It’s up to her to do what she wants.

A frown on both her foreheads. ‘What’s the deal?’

‘No deal. No conditions. It’s your choice.’

‘I can have my own aparto-cube?’ she asks.

‘You can.’

‘With the circular bed you promised me?’

‘Why not?’

‘And a free hand to decorate the cube as I wish?’

‘Of course.’

She wanders round the balcony, looks down at the arid ground and deserted landscape. The dull grey of the sky matches the dry soil. ‘It would be good to have some greenery.’

I lay my hand lightly across her shoulders. ‘I’m on it. Imagine a city with green parks and tree-lined avenues. And shops and cinemas, like in the filmograms.’

‘But no buildings taller than this one.’

‘You’ve got it.’ I grin. ‘We will look down on all the others.’

She giggles and raises her faces to mine.’ I give her four kisses, one on each cheek.

To my surprise she kisses me back, with one pair of lips and then the other.

These are proper kisses, her tongues probing deep into my throat. It’s some time since she did that. She’s been spending most of her nights in the commun-dormo-cube and I’ve been otherwise engaged as well. Is this a sign that we’re about to embark on a new stage of our ever-changing relationship?

‘You know, Heracles, these actors are so shallow. All they think about is the play they’re in and their particular part in it. They sit for hours talking about their characters and what they call “the dramatist’s intention.” How do they know what that is? Most of the writers are long dead. Thing is it’s soooo boring. They go on and on trying to find “the “essence” of their character. It’s a total waste of time. I’m fed up with the lot of them.’ She looks up at me with two winning smiles. ‘Yes, I’d like to get out of that compound and move into the tower.’

‘The Heracles Tower,’ I tell her.

‘A symbol of your power.’ She gives me a sly look from the blue eyes. ‘I wonder what Athene will think of that?’

‘I don’t care what she thinks,’ I tell her as I take her in my arms and give her the obligatory two kisses to keep both mouths happy. The deep penetration of these kisses seals some sort of pact between us.

My new office, part of my purpose built penthouse on the
top floor of the tower, is a rather special affair. I take Sati to see it, but she takes one look at the dark green paintwork on the curved walls, loses interest and insists on me showing her the cubes reserved for her use on the floor below. I present her with an e-tablet with a graphic design app and down we go to view the space that is to be her aparto-cube. She wanders round it, her four eyes busily studying its possibilities. She begins to sketch and select colour combinations.

I leave her to it and return to my office with its Harrods-green circular walls and ceiling.

Imagine an office in that historic store decorated like this and you’ve got the picture. I sit at my giant workstation with its multi-screen, lean back in my shaper and look around me. I adore this green cave and relish its windowless intimacy. It’s a private place, a secret place. Mine. All mine.

I check the output of auto-mails from Compound Creative. Not many. Few humanoids in that sectoid are compu literate. That bitch, Bathsheba, has written another pcm to Kata-Mbula. Not difficult for an ace hacker like me to de-code.

She’s moaning about the lack of time for rehearsals and says that some of the cast are losing interest. They’re too exhausted after a morning of manual work to concentrate. Blah, blah, blah. Quite a few of them haven’t learnt their lines. Boohoo. I trash it with the others. I can’t have Kat reading these rants or, before I know it, he’ll be transporting himself back here, snatching back his compound and reversing all my reforms.

I agree with Sati. The members of Compound Creative are obsessed with all this thespian stuff. They can’t see that their preoccupation with all things theatrical reveals their own superficiality. Surely the most creative achievement so far has been the designing and construction of this tower. No one seems to grasp that fact but me.

Secure in my green cave, I check the long dialogue that makes up my communication with Orlando Wolfe.

In an early pcm I gently suggested that he take a close look at Alexander Court’s eldest son. He acted on this information by arresting the young man and subjecting him to a strip search by a couple of his assistants, the same two louts who interrogated me, no doubt. He finds no evidence to confirm that the boy is, or was, a mutant humanoid and sends me a brusque message:

Please do not feed me false information. You are of no use to me unless you check the facts.

Mercury’s transformation to Michael Court appears to have left no trace of this former status. I send this reply:

There is no doubt that Mercury and Michael are one and the same person. Mercury must have had his mutations removed in order to become Michael Court. There is only one place such an operation as this could have been done. Hos-sat. Evidence of the procedure must be stored there.

Wolfe decides to go to Hos-sat, determined to find some evidence of such a procedure.

While there he asks a lot of questions and learns that someone matching Mercury’s description has visited Isis and was seen conversing with a one-eyed male humanoid. From a further description of his triangular face and gliding walk, I realise it must be Odysseus. I tell Wolfe that I will investigate further from this end. I don’t want him to find out everything for himself or he won’t need me as an informant.

It’s not that I have anything against Mercury but I may have to sacrifice him to benefit my cause. The worst that could happen to him would be that he is returned to Earth. What’s wrong with that? It’s where he belongs.

Wolfe tells me he has recruited one of the nurses as an undercover agent. He asks her to research and report back to him on all surgical operations undertaken during the last
four years. Apparently the staff at Hos-sat is so trusted that data of all kinds including scans, reports and doctor’s notes can be accessed quite easily by anyone in the hospital. Wolfe is confident the nurse will come up with proof that such an operation was performed.

Apparently this nurse is extremely attractive and Michael is susceptible to young, attractive females. What young male isn’t? Wolfe told this nurse that her first task would be to win the young man’s trust and encourage his advances.

‘If you tell him about your past maybe he will confide in you,’ Wolfe told her.

At first she was reluctant. She clearly fancied the young man but once I had planted the idea in her mind that this Michael might once have been a mutant humanoid she agreed. A relationship with a mutant was, understandably, distasteful to her.

Wolfe took pleasure in telling me that. Mind you, Mercury was always a bit of weed. If this nurse met a handsome humanoid like me she might not be so prejudiced against us.

Wolfe’s message continued,

It’s also amazing what a bribe can achieve.

I know what he means. We don’t have money on Earth, but there are other ways of bribing people. I bribe Thor with promises of promotion and Sati with pretty clothes and furnishings. And Wolfe bribes me with building materials.

It turns out from my own research that the purpose of Wolfe’s strategy is to damage Alexander Court’s reputation. If Mercury does turn out to be Court’s natural son, it means that the Minister of Culture himself must have mutant genes. Or his first wife. Either way, if that knowledge is made public it will most likely bring Alexander Court down. Mission accomplished.

If Alexander Court falls, Stella Jameson’s downfall must surely follow. Serve her right, the arrogant bitch. How could
she not have had the insight to see that I would have made a stronger leader than Athene? Big mistake, Stella darling.

In exchange for further information from me, Wolfe dangles the carrot of finding me a satellite to populate with selected mutants. I am not naïve enough to believe that this is likely to materialise. Not in the foreseeable future anyway; but he hints at this to keep me sweet.

Meanwhile Wolfe supplies me with the resources to build this tower and a city here on Earth.

I look on this project as practice for the city in the sky. Or maybe plan B is becoming plan A and the city on Earth will suffice.

I’m so proud of my tower I send him an image of it to make it clear that I’m a humanoid to be reckoned with. Click. There it goes. It’s on its way.

Ping. A pcm from Orlando Wolfe, written in his usual terse style, headed
Rescue Mission.

A mutant humanoid named Isis has stolen a baby and taken it to C98. Not the baby she gave birth to which she rejected because of its mutations but a complete human being. She refuses to give it up. You must rescue the child and return it to Planet Oasis. Contact me when the baby is ready to be transported and it will be collected on arrival.

See what he’s like? Not a gracious communication. This is not a request from one equal to another but a command from someone who considers himself superior to me. I pride myself that I have him sussed, that I understand this ruthless bugger. Why? Because we are alike, he and I. We both have our agendas and are determined to see them through. Do I trust him? No. Does he trust me? Of course not. He thinks he is using me and that I will do whatever he asks. But I am using him too. It is this clash of wills that makes our relationship invigorating.

I sit and think for a moment about his request. It doesn’t seem likely that Isis would reject her baby and steal another.

Why would a mutant humanoid reject a baby because it had mutations? Doesn’t make sense. Perhaps her baby died in childbirth. If that was the case, Isis, suffering from some sort of postnatal depression or grief, might have stolen another baby.

I must go to C98 to see the baby myself. If it is a complete, I may be able to persuade Isis to give it up, but I doubt it. She’s always been an obstinate bitch. If she refuses I’ll have to come up with a plan. I can hardly steal the baby myself. Too dangerous.

I need someone completely loyal to me to do it. Someone Isis doesn’t know. Thor. It has to be Thor.

Thor has already proved invaluable to me, drawing up the timetable for the building programme, arranging the transport of materials and acting as overseer of the workforce. Thanks to him the work has progressed quickly and efficiently. The Heracles Tower is complete apart from a few refinements to the interior and the construction of the city has begun.

Thor is a meticulous planner and a hard taskmaster. Eichmann to my Hitler. The two Adolfs. It was Eichmann who, at Hitler’s request, initiated the meeting that came up with “the final solution” to what Hitler called, “the Jewish problem.” Not that I’m considering annihilating any group. The point is, Adolf Eichmann was in charge of the logistics of the scheme, synchronizing the times of train departures and arrivals at the camps. That’s how I view Thor. A diligent manager, prepared to do the boring but necessary work to make my initiatives effective.

In this case, I’m sure Thor will come up with a foolproof plan for the abduction of the baby and carry it out successfully. If anything goes wrong, Thor will be the fall guy.

If Isis is the child’s mother then of course I will refuse to have anything to do with this kidnapping. I’m not Wolfe’s slave and he needs to know that.

Ping! Another message from Bathsheba. This time an auto-mail addressed to me. She tells me that I have a surprise visitor. Shit. Why can’t she say who it is? She’s such a devious female. She thrives on secrets. For all she pretends to be so bloody helpful I don’t trust her one little bit.

I stand up, step up on to the circular balcony and stride round it, glancing out of the windows as I go.

Two humanoids stand looking up at me.

Two statuesque females in long gowns: Bathsheba in black and gold. Athene in white and silver.

I descend the circular staircase and greet my boss.

‘Athene, long time no see. What a pleasant surprise.’

‘Is it pleasant?’ she asks, her one large eye looking directly in to my central one.

‘Always a pleasure to see you, Athene, you know that.’

She raises her head towards the tower. ‘I see you’ve been busy.’

‘Amazing, eh?’

‘You could say that.’ She doesn’t smile. ‘Heracles, we need to talk.’

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Bathsheba turns and starts to walk back to the compound.

‘I don’t mean to drive you away,’ says Athene.

Bathsheba faces us again. The little fingers at her neck are almost strangling her. ‘No, no, I must get back. I have a rehearsal in progress.’

Athene and I watch her go. Bathsheba steps out purposefully, but her shoulders droop a little. She’s not as confident as she looks. Waiting for replies from Kat that never come is having an effect on her morale.

I invite Athene to enter the tower, but she shakes her head. ‘Let’s walk out here for a bit. You can tell me what you are doing here.’

I don’t need much encouraging. ‘A city. That’s my plan.
This will be the main street with department stores and offices and houses and a cinema – maybe even another theatre. Everything we need.’

‘You’ve got it all worked out. And the tower?’

‘It’s the Heracles Tower. I will live here and look down on the city as its benevolent leader.’

‘Is that so.’ Her voice is cold. ‘May I ask who is funding this venture?’

I shrug. ‘I request materials and they arrive.’