‘I’m giving it some serious consideration, let’s say that much.’ I waited a moment, then added, ‘You’ve seen him too, haven’t you?’
‘What?’
‘Reivich. I just saw him; for a moment I thought I might be imagining him. But I wasn’t, was I?’
Zebra opened her mouth to say something — a denial, quick and fluid, but it just didn’t come. Her veneer had cracked. ‘Everything I told you is true,’ she said quietly, when words returned. ‘I’m not working for him any more. But you’re right. You did just see him.’ After a pause, she said, ‘Except that isn’t really Reivich.’
I nodded; I’d half guessed the truth already. ‘A lure?’
‘Something like that, yes.’ She consulted her tea. ‘You knew there’d be time for him to change his appearance as soon as he arrived in the city. In fact, it would be the only sensible thing for him to do. And that’s exactly what he did. The real Reivich is out there now, somewhere in the city, but you’d need to take a tissue sample, or get him under a Mixmaster scanner before you’d know for sure. And even then you might not be certain. They can change everything, you know, given time. Even Reivich’s DNA might not betray him, given enough money.’ Zebra paused. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the man, still hovering at the fringe of the crowd gathered round the big fish. It was him, yes — or at least an extremely good facsimile. Zebra said, ‘Reivich knew his cover was good, but he still wanted to flush you out. That way he could sleep at night and — if he wished — revert to his old appearance and identity.’
‘So he persuaded someone to assume his shape.’
‘There was no persuasion involved. The man was more than willing.’
‘Someone with a death wish?’
She shook her head. ‘No more than any other immortal in the Canopy. His name is Voronoff, I believe, although I don’t know for sure, since I was never that close to Reivich. You won’t have heard of Voronoff, but his name’s fairly well-known in Canopy circles. He’s one of the most extreme Gamers; someone for whom the hunt was always going to be too tame. He’s good, too — or else he wouldn’t still be alive.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I said. ‘I have heard of Voronoff.’
I told her about the man I had seen jumping into the mist in the chasm, when Sybilline had taken me to the restaurant at the end of the stalk.
‘That makes sense,’ she said. ‘Voronoff’s into anything involving extreme personal risk, provided there’s a large element of skill involved. Dangerous sports, anything which gives a genuine adrenalin kick, and which forces him to confront the thin border between mortality and his own longevity. He would never stoop to hunting now; he’d just regard it as an amusement, not a real game. Not because of its unfairness, but because there’s no personal risk to the participants.’
‘Except for one participant, of course.’
‘You know what I mean.’
She was silent for a moment before continuing, ‘People like Voronoff are extremists. For them the usual methods of controlling boredom just don’t work any more. It’s like they developed a tolerance for it. They need something stronger.’
‘And putting himself in the firing line was just the ticket.’
‘It was controlled. Voronoff had a network of spies and informers keeping track of you. When you first thought you’d seen him, he’d already seen you.’ She swallowed. ‘The first time, he kept Methuselah between you and himself. It wasn’t any accident. He was more in control than you ever realised.’
‘It was a mistake, though. He made it too easy. He made me wonder what was going on.’
‘Yes,’ Zebra said, knowingly. ‘But by then it was far too late to stop him. Voronoff was out of our control.’
I looked into her faintly striped face, not needing to prompt her further. She said, ‘Voronoff liked his role too much. It suited him too well. For a long time he acted the way he was meant to — keeping a discreet distance; never letting you see him. The idea was that he would plant a trail of clues which would lead you to him, but in such a way that you thought you’d done all the work yourself. But he wanted more than that.’
‘More danger.’
‘Yes.’ She said it with deep finality. ‘Laying down clues and waiting for you to follow them wasn’t enough for Voronoff. He started to make himself more prominent — placing himself at ever greater risk, but always maintaining an edge of control. That’s why I said he’s good. But Reivich didn’t like it, for obvious reasons. Voronoff was no longer serving him. He was serving himself; finding a new way to stave off the boredom. And I think it worked, being in that role.’
‘Not for me it didn’t.’
I stood up, almost upsetting the table as I did so. And one hand was already beginning the journey to my pocket.
‘Tanner,’ Zebra said, quickly, reaching for the hem of my coat as I stepped away from her, ‘killing him won’t change a thing.’
‘Voronoff,’ I said, at the top of my voice — not actually shouting it, but projecting like an actor of great reknown. ‘Voronoff — turn around and step away from the crowd.’
The gun gleamed in my hand, and now people began to notice it for the first time.
The man who looked like Reivich met my gaze and managed not to look too surprised. But he was not the only one who met my gaze. I had managed to get everyone’s attention by now, and those who were not trying to read my expression were fixated by the gun. If the hunt was as endemic amongst Canopy dwellers as I had been led to believe, many of these people would have seen and handled weapons of far greater potency than the pistol I hefted now. But never in a place as public as this; never with such crass vulgarity. Judging by the looks of shock and bewilderment and revulsion I saw, I might as well have been pissing on the ornamental lawn which fringed the koi pond.
‘Maybe you didn’t hear me, Voronoff.’ I sounded sweetly reasonable to my own ears. ‘I know who you are and what this is all about. If you know anything about me you’ll also know that I’m fully capable of using this.’ I had the gun aimed in his direction now, double-handed stance with my feet slightly spread.
‘Drop it, Mirabel.’
It was not a voice I had heard recently, nor had it come from the crowd. I felt a touch of soft metallic cold against the nape of my neck.
‘Are you deaf? I said drop the piece. Do it fast or your head’ll be following it down.’
I started lowering the piece, but that wasn’t good enough for the speaker standing behind me. He increased the pressure against my neck in a manner which strongly suggested it would be in my best interest to let the gun drop.
I did.
‘You,’ the man said, evidently addressing Zebra. ‘Kick the gun to me, and don’t even think about trying anything creative.’
She did as she was told.
I saw a hand reach out in my peripheral vision and snatch the gun from the ground; the pressure of the weapon against my neck changed slightly as the man knelt. But he was good; I could tell that, so — like Zebra — I wasn’t tempted to even think about trying anything creative. That was good, because I was all out of creativity.
‘Voronoff, you fool,’ said the voice. ‘Look what you nearly got us into.’ And then I heard clicking sounds as the gun was inspected, followed by a tut of amusement from the hidden speaker, whose voice I almost recognised. ‘It’s empty. The damn thing was empty all along.’
‘News to me,’ I said.
‘I did it,’ Zebra said, shrugging. ‘You can’t blame me, can you? I had a feeling you might end up pointing it at me, so I just took a precaution.’
‘Next time, don’t bother,’ I said.
‘Not that it exactly mattered,’ Zebra said, doing a poor job of masking her annoyance. ‘You never even tried to fire the fucking thing, Tanner.’
I angled my eyes upwards, as if I was trying to look behind my own head. ‘Are you involved with this clown?’
That got me an acute stabbing pain between the ears. The man said, projecting his voice out to the people
