The Quantum Thief

the dark, comes a question.

How did the tzaddik know about the fireworks?

15 THE THIEF AND THE GODDESS

Mieli and I stare at the stranger. He gets up, putting on his jacket. ‘Would either of you like a drink?’ He walks to the fabber and fills his glass. ‘I’m afraid I went ahead and helped myself while I was waiting. I understand you are celebrating, and no wonder.’ He takes a sip. ‘That was quite a little coup you pulled. We followed it with interest.’

Come on, I nudge Mieli. You can take this guy. Let’s make him talk.

Mieli gives me a strange look.

The man nods at Mieli. ‘Thank you for the invitation, by the way. My associates and I appreciate directness.’ He drops his cigar into his glass: it goes out with a hiss. ‘But where are my manners? Please.’ He gestures at the couch. ‘Do have a seat.’

I grab Mieli’s shoulder. Invitation? She shakes me off. Later. The Oortian singer from the Red Silk Scarf is gone, and her features are flint-hard again. Recognising that she is not in the mood to argue, I sit next to her. The man perches on the edge of the table, raising his eyebrows.

‘By the way, Jean, I’m surprised. Back in the old days, you would have been much more direct. You would not have waited for someone to die voluntarily, you would have made bodies where you needed them. You must be getting soft.’

‘I’m an artist,’ I say. ‘Bodies do not make good art. I’m sure I would have told you that even in the old days, M.?’

‘My apologies,’ he says. ‘I’m not wearing my own body. This young man came back from Quiet earlier this morning, and I appropriated it for the purpose of having this meeting to avoid any … temptations to cause me harm.’ He takes out another cigar, wets its tip in his mouth and smells it. ‘Besides, it is nice to try on something new every once in a while. You can call me Robert. We have met before, although I understand you may not recall it. And we have both moved on in our careers since. I have become … one of the enlightened individuals your friends the tzaddikim call cryptarchs, whereas you, apparently, became a prisoner.’

Robert the cryptarch lights the cigar and puffs on it. The tip glows red. ‘Makes you wonder about karma, doesn’t it? I’m thinking that should be a feature in the next-generation resurrection system.’

‘What do you want?’ I ask.

He raises his eyebrows. ‘Well, now. Your associate here had a very interesting proposition. Perhaps the lady wants to repeat it for your benefit.’

Mieli looks at me. The light makeup she is wearing looks odd in the harsh light of the room: it makes her look like a corpse.

‘You stop interfering with our work,’ Mieli says, ‘and we give you the tzaddikim.’

‘It’s tempting, isn’t it?’ says Robert.

The rage wells up in my chest, hot bile and brimstone. The alcohol does not help. I take a deep breath and squeeze it in, making a mental fist to hold it, saving it for later. I smile at the cryptarch.

‘You know, Jean, we have been watching you since you came. For a professional, you were quite conspicuous. We still remember the last time. You did not make any friends here. Such a shame: we go back such a long way. But then loyalty was never one of your strong points. Just look at what happened with that Raymonde girl.’

I stop myself from rising to the bait. ‘So why all the pussyfooting around? Gogol pirates, the Unruh letter—’ Something flashes in his eyes: he tries to hide it with gevulot hastily, but it fails. He does not know about the letter. He waves his cigar dismissively.

‘Just a little game to spice things up. We are old and get bored easily. But now it is time to get down to business. The answer to your offer is no.’

Mieli frowns. ‘Why?’

I answer for him. ‘Because you already know who the tzaddikim are. One of them is yours, maybe more. They have all been Quiet. And they are convenient. They keep the streets clean.’

‘They are flashy and ineffectual and sometimes a little annoying, but yes, they help us to deal with the small problems. But that is not the point. Jean, I always loved the way you are so quick to see everybody else as monsters. We agree with the tzaddikim. We want this place to be free and special and safe, a good place to live free from the burden of past sins.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s not the tzaddikim we have a problem with, it’s who’s behind them. And we want to feed them a little misinformation.’

‘The zoku colony,’ I say.

‘I’m glad you take an interest in our local politics.’ He takes a small object from his pocket: a round, egglike thing that looks like a zoku jewel. ‘There is a little co-memory that comes with it, prepared for your tzaddikim friends – something that you could have plausibly discovered in your little exercise with M. Unruh, but more useful to our purposes.’

‘That’s it?’ Mieli asks.

‘Of course not.’ The cryptarch grins again, teeth stained by cigar juices, an old man’s grimace in a young man’s face. ‘Of course it’s not enough. Jean, we want our share.’

‘What?’

‘We let you leave here all those years ago. You were going to come back. You were going to share all your offworld treasures with us. Remember that? Of course you don’t.’ Robert shakes his head. ‘You really should not have come back. We have had a long time to think about the bad old days.’

He gets up. ‘Here is our offer. One: you deliver this to the tzaddikim, with conviction. Two: whatever data crumbs you dug out from that poor boy’s mind, you share with us and destroy – we can make arrangements about that later. And three: when you find what you are looking for, we get our cut. With interest. Come on, Jean, don’t be greedy. Surely your fabled treasure has enough for all of us.’

‘You know what I think?’ I say. ‘I think you are bluffing. I don’t think you are nearly as powerful as you claim. I think you are scared of what we found. And you should be. The answer is—’

Mieli freezes my body. It feels like a cold hammer blow to the head.

‘Yes,’ Mieli says. I want to throw my hands up and scream and jump up and down, but I can’t shake her mental kung fu grip. I can only watch helplessly when the cryptarch bows to Mieli.

‘My employer recognises you as valuable allies,’ she says. ‘We will share some of our … findings with you, as a token of good faith. And she will consider what she can do to help with your zoku issue.’

‘Delightful,’ Robert says. ‘I’m glad we understand each other. A pleasure doing business with you.’ He leans on his knees and pats me on the cheek, sharply. ‘Looks like the lady has you under her heel, Jean. But then, that was always the way with you and women, wasn’t it?’

Mieli escorts him out while I sit still like a statue, pounding my temples with imaginary fists of rage.

‘I can’t believe we are doing this!’ I shout at Mieli. ‘You want to work with them? What happened to vows? Your koto’s honour? The tzaddikim are the good guys.’

‘He did have a point,’ Mieli says. ‘It’s not our place to judge.’

‘Hell it isn’t.’ I pace around, stop and press my forehead against the window to cool it. ‘And you forget something. They know me. That makes them bad guys by definition. We can’t trust them.’

‘It’s not about trust,’ Mieli says. ‘We will wait until we recover your memories before doing anything.’

‘And what if something goes wrong with that? What if the tzaddikim won’t buy it? What if Raymonde—’ I grit