Skybreach (The Reach #3) (16 page)

Knile was infuriatingly calm.  Self-assured.

I’m going to wipe that smug look off your fucking face
, Duran thought grimly. 
You better believe it.

Duran reached the swarm of people crying and screaming as they forced their way through the doorway, and Knile remained just out of reach.  Duran began to hurl people aside, uncaring of
their safety in the midst of his rage, and his fingers brushed against Knile’s shirt for the briefest moment.

“Come here, you bastard!” Duran yelled, but Knile slipped away again.  Duran thrashed and elbowed his way forward like a madman, and then Knile tore free of the pack, stumbling through to the other side of the doorway.  “Dammit, get out of the way!”

Someone from behind Duran – possibly one of the disgruntled few he’d hurled aside – landed a haymaker on his cheekbone, connecting hard enough to make his whole eye socket throb.  He lurched forward again, and suddenly he was through, bounding out onto the other side.

He found himself in another open area which was around thirty metres squared
, and which served as a juncture point for a series of interconnecting corridors.  The emergency lights provided scant illumination in a place this large, and he had difficulty locating Knile immediately.

Then he saw him entering an adjoining conduit not far to his right and set off after him.

There were people everywhere, understandably panicked by what had happened, crossing haphazardly across Duran’s path like wailing red spectres in the splash of the emergency lights.  Duran was almost knocked from his feet by one rotund woman who had built up a head of steam, screaming for someone named Peter as she grappled her way past him.  In turn, Duran knocked over a teenage boy who cried out in dismay as his feet went out from under him.  Duran paused for the barest moment to help him back to his feet, then continued after Knile.

His target was still in sight.

Duran increased his pace.  He wasn’t sure if his ankle was loosening up or if he was simply filtering out the pain, but right now he felt no discomfort there.  He felt good.

This is happening
, he thought, almost shocked at the realisation. 
Knile fucking Oberend has been delivered to me, gift wrapped with a bow on top.

He let out a maniacal bark of laughter and Knile turned back to look at him again.  It was too dark to see clearly, but Duran hoped that
this
time he wouldn’t be as calm as he had been earlier.

This time he had to know that Duran wasn’t giving up.

Knile exited the corridor and disappeared from view again, and Duran cursed inwardly.  There were two women ahead of him, moving far more slowly than he, and he was forced to swerve around them, losing a valuable second or two in the process.

Moments later he reached the end of the corridor and found himself staring at another junction filled with fearful people running this way and that.

There was no sign of Knile.

“Shhhit!” Duran hissed, scanning back and forth across the crowd.  Like the previous juncture, there were multiple exits from this area, and if Knile had already made it to one of those–

Then Duran saw him, over by the far wall.  He was poised before what looked like a maintenance hatch, clipping a cable into the security panel next to it.

Knile looked across the room at him, and this time Duran did see uncertainty there.  He saw fear.

A wolfish grin spread across Duran’s face and he began to run.

Knile tapped furiously at his holophone, glancing across at Duran two or three times as he closed in, his motions frantic as he tried to bypass the lock on the door.  Duran was almost laughing by now, giddy at having finally secured the target that had eluded him for so long.

Duran reached instinctively for his holster, then remembered he had lost the .40.  He would have to subdue Knile with his bare hands.  That was probably for the best, he decided.  It would feel good to–

Another explosion rocked Gaslight, this one even more powerful than the first, and the shock wave swept across the juncture with such ferocity that those attempting to flee were thrown off their feet, Duran and Knile included.  Duran pushed himself up onto his knees, but then he was flattened by a subsequent blast that was possibly the most devastating of them all.  Large metallic slabs of roof panelling began to fall around Duran, and he was forced to roll to one side to avoid being crushed.  Chunks of mortar rained down around him and his eyes filled with grit.  He choked and coughed as dust clogged his lungs.

Holy shit
, he thought somewhere in the back of his mind, imagining the power of the blast that must have
caused this kind of destruction. 
With an arsenal like that, they don’t even need to make it inside the consulate.  They can reduce it to rubble from outside.

Hacking painfully through his dry throat, he waved at the swirling dust to clear his view.  He took a moment to gather his bearings again, then staggered forward to where the security panel glowed dimly on the wall.

How ironic it would be if that shithead ended up dead under a pile of rubble before I could get my hands on him
, he thought.  He made it to the hatch, then wheeled around in search of Oberend.

Knile was already gone.

16

Charles Prazor sat in his high-backed executive chair, his elbows propped against the hand rests, his fingers linked under his chin as he stared at a blank spot on the wall.  He’d been like this for almost ten minutes, since Sergeant Kendall had burst into his office, her cheeks flushed, to tell him about the attack on the consulate on Level Fifty-Three.

Prazor had already felt the tremors from far below in Gaslight.  He’d understood what they meant well before the sergeant had arrived breathlessly on his doorstep to convey the news.

He’d stood there calmly and thanked her for the report, told her that he would handle it.  The young sergeant had nodded uncertainly and withdrawn, and then Prazor had folded into his chair like a deflated balloon.

Here he had stayed, waiting for the call.

He caught sight of himself in the little desk mirror beside his terminal.  He looked haggard and defeated, a hangdog expression plastered across his face.

You were once a proud man, Charles.  But what are you now?

He should have stirred himself into action by now.  He should have been mobilising a response team to investigate the attack.  He should have been liaising with administration to ensure that the emergency crews had been deployed in a timely manner.

But he was doing none of that.  Instead, Prazor had simply delivered a message to Mrs. Appleby, telling her that he was not to be disturbed at any cost.  Then he had leaned back and begun to wait.

He could hear them outside now, the ones who had come looking for him.  They were arguing amongst themselves in his absence.  He recognised the voice of Superintendent Lang and a couple of inspectors, could see their silhouettes milling about through the frosted glass windows that had been set into the doors of his office.

They wanted answers.  They wanted direction.

Commissioner Prazor had no intention of giving it to them.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, wishing there was some way he could speed up time, fast forward through this interminable wait.  He wanted to be out of this office, packing his bags and making preparations to leave.  If there–

Prazor jumped as the call arrived, the terminal on his desk lighting up with the name of Administrator Valen.  Despite his impatience of a moment ago, he hadn’t really expected the call to come in this early.  He thought he’d have more time to formulate his approach to the conversation.

He was unprepared.  Hopelessly lost.

Prazor’s eyes flicked to the mirror again.

Keep up appearances, Charles.  Right to the end.

He reached out and accepted the call.

Administrator Valen appeared on the screen, her hair neatly tied back and her face calm, projecting an outward air of composure and control.  Prazor noted a look in her eye, however, a
kind of disquiet that she was attempting to mask, and that was something he had never seen in her before.

“Greetings, Administrator Valen.”

Valen pursed her lips and made no attempt to respond politely.

“This call is a courtesy, Commissioner.  A notification.  It is not an attempt to begin a discourse,”
she said, her displeasure evident. 
“The time for that has passed.”

Prazor gave a weak little smile and nodded his head.  “I see.”

Valen seemed perplexed by his attitude.  Perhaps she had been expecting Prazor to start making excuses the moment he had answered the call.

“I’ve lost another of my consulates,”
she said. 
“You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Administrator.  I received word a few moments ago.”

“If there are any survivors, I want them transported to the Consortium Infirmary with the utmost haste.”

“Of course.”

She paused. 
“I don’t expect there
are
any, from the reports I’ve received.”

“We will find them if they are there.”

Valen frowned. 
“What’s wrong with you, Prazor?  You’re even more vague than usual.”

Prazor inclined his head.  “I am appalled at this latest loss of life, Administrator.  It distresses me greatly.”

Valen stared at him doubtfully. 
“Yes.  In any case, here’s what is going to happen.  In a few minutes I will be sending out a broadcast to every available channel in the Reach.  It will be brief and to the point.  I will be advising the citizens of the Reach that the Consortium has been forced to temporarily close all operations, including off-world transport.”
  She waited for a reaction from Prazor, but when there was none, she went on. 
“This action will be undertaken immediately, and it is non-negotiable.”

“A… a temporary closure?” Prazor said uncertainly.

“There’s no need to create more panic than necessary, Commissioner.  You and I know that this is the end, but they don’t.”

Panic?
Prazor thought numbly. 
Even the announcement of a temporary closure will be enough to tear the Reach apart.

“The broadcast will be repeated every hour, on the hour, until the Consortium withdrawal is complete.  Once that is done…”
  She spread her hands. 
“
We will shut down the Wire forever.  The Reach will be under the control of you and your administrators.  You may do with it as you please.”

“There will be nothing left,” Prazor said, his voice barely a whisper.

“What?”
Valen snapped. 
“Speak up.”

Prazor cleared his throat noisily and tried to force himself out of his stupor.

“We had an agreement, once.  The two of us,” Prazor said.  “By keeping things steady here, you would reward me with safe passage for myself and my–”

Valen laughed, a high-pitched, incredulous sound that made Prazor’s words lodge in his throat.

“Keeping things steady?”
she mocked. 
“Is that what you call this?”

Prazor felt anger begin to bubble through his stupefaction.

“I have offered my diligent service for more than seven years–”

“Safe passage?”
Valen said, staring at Prazor as if he were crazy. 
“You old fool.  Have you no shame?”

Prazor’s anger evaporated as quickly as it had arrived when he realised his indignation would have no effect on her.  He decided to try a different tactic.

“Veronica, please.  You can’t leave me here.”

Valen set her mouth and raised her eyebrows. 
“I have already conveyed orders to your subordinates on your behalf, Commissioner, since you seem to be incapable of acting of your own volition of late.  Your Enforcers have already been set in motion.  I suggest you watch the broadcast with the rest of your peers, Charles.  You’re going to have a lot of work on your hands once the people hear what I have to say.”

The call terminated and Valen disappeared from view.  Prazor sat there, his back stiff for a moment longer, then slumped back in his chair.

It was over.  He had been utterly defeated.

In the end, he hadn’t even succeeded in begging for his own life.

He reached into the drawer under his desk and pulled out the ceremonial pistol, the single-action revolver with pearl grips.  He rubbed his thumb across it idly, remembering the day it had been handed to him.  The day he had been made commissioner.  It had been a cool
, breezy
morning, and patches of azure sky had even glinted through the murk on the horizon.  A good omen, he had thought.