Dreyfus almost laughed. ‘I don’t think that’s really in my hands, is it?’
‘You’re right, it isn’t. I could kill you now, or do something to you that you would find infinitely worse than death. But I could also let you leave.’
Dreyfus thought of the way cats toyed with birds before finishing them off. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Murders have been committed, Prefect. Isn’t it your duty to investigate those murders, to bring those responsible to justice?’
‘That’s part of it.’
‘How far would you go to see justice served?’
‘As far as it takes.’
‘Do you believe that, in your heart of hearts? Be careful how you answer me. Your skull is a stained-glass window, an open book revealing the processes of your mind. I can tell a lie from the truth.’
‘I believe it,’ Dreyfus said. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes.’
He saw the great fist rise high and then descend, dropping towards his skull like a chrome-plated pile driver.
Gaffney halted at the sight of the figure ahead of him. Her thin form stood silhouetted against the glowing wall to her rear. She had one hand on her hip, her head at an angle. There was something almost coquettish about that stance, as if she’d been waiting for him, like a lover keeping an assignation.
‘As you can see,’ he said, his voice booming out beyond the suit, amplified to monstrous proportions, ‘I’m unarmed.’
‘As you can see,’ the woman said, ‘so am I. You can put down that weapon now, Prefect Gaffney. You have nothing to fear from me.’
‘It’s more a case of what you have to fear from me. Saavedra, isn’t it?’
‘Got it in one. Should I be flattered that you know of me?’
‘You can if you want to be.’ Gaffney stepped closer. He was limping. He had been injured in the crash and the power-assist of his suit was beginning to malfunction. ‘I only want one thing from you. You’ve got the Clockmaker down here.’
‘It’s already escaped,’ Saavedra said. ‘You’re too late. Go home.’
‘What if I said I didn’t believe you?’
‘Then I’d have to prove it to you, wouldn’t I?’
‘How would you do that?’
Still holding that coquettish pose, still mostly in shadow, the woman said, ‘I could show you the reactor, the tokamak we were using to contain it. You know about magnetic fields and the Clockmaker, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘We had it pinned down until you showed up. If you hadn’t attacked us, you could have infiltrated our facility and then worked out a way to destroy it.’
‘Like you wish I’d done that. Where’s Dreyfus?’
‘You killed Dreyfus in your attack.’
‘So the day hasn’t been a complete waste of time.’
‘Did you hate him that much, Prefect Gaffney? Did you hate him enough to want him dead?’ Only now did she adjust the tilt of her head, moving it with the stiffness of a puppet that needed oiling. Something about the movement triggered a profound unease on Gaffney’s part, but he suppressed his qualms. ‘Did you hate him the way you hated Delphine?’
‘Delphine was a detail that got in the way. She had to go.’ He waved the muzzle of his rifle. ‘Do you want to become a detail as well?’
‘Not really.’
‘Then show me the tokamak. I want concrete evidence that the thing’s escaped. Then you’re going to help me locate it, before it gets off-planet.’
‘Are you going to kill it as well?’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘You’re a very determined man,’ she said, with a note of admiration he hadn’t been expecting.
‘I get things done.’
‘You know, so do I. Maybe the two of us have more in common than we might have imagined.’ Her hand moved on her hip. Her arms were stick-thin, less like limbs than jointed sword sheaths. She pivoted on her heels, turning with the eerie smoothness of a battleship turret. Gaffney blinked, thinking he’d seen something on her back, tracing the course of her spine.
‘I’d like to see where you had it hidden.’
‘I’ll show you that and more. I can prove to you that it escaped.’ She beckoned him forward. ‘Would you like that?’
‘Very much so,’ he said.
CHAPTER 33
Dreyfus came around for the third time that day. He was still lying where the Clockmaker had left him, his head still ringing with that last fateful moment when the machine’s fist had come crashing down. He’d been expecting to die then, more certain of it than anything in the universe. Yet here he was, looking up at Sparver.
‘I… ‘ he began.
‘Easy, Boss. Save the questions for later. We’ve got to get you suited and out of here. Whole place is starting to cave in.’ Sparver had his helmet cradled in his arm but was otherwise suited, a Breitenbach rifle slung over his shoulder.
‘My leg’s hurt,’ Dreyfus said, his throat still raw. ‘I’m going to have trouble walking.’
‘You made it here. How did you get out of that collapsed room?’
‘I didn’t. I was brought out while I was unconscious.’
‘By whom? When I left, Saavedra was gone and Veitch was out cold. I tried shifting that table but I couldn’t manage it on my own. Veitch was in a bad way. I don’t think he was in any shape to help you.’
‘It wasn’t Veitch.’ Dreyfus paused, sucking in his pain while Sparver helped him off the couch. ‘I came around in here, and I was talking to Paula Saavedra. But it wasn’t her. It was the Clockmaker, Sparv. I was in the same room as it. It was talking to me, speaking through her body.’
‘You sure you weren’t hallucinating?’
‘Later I saw it for what it was. It revealed itself to me when I guessed what was going on. I thought it was going to kill me. But it didn’t. I woke up and I’m looking at you instead.’ As the pain ebbed, Dreyfus was struck by an unpleasant possibility. ‘It had time to do something to me, Sparv. Is there anything on me? Anything missing?’
Sparver inspected him. ‘You look the same way you did when I left you, Boss. The only difference is that thing on your leg.’
Dreyfus looked down with apprehension. ‘What thing?’
‘It’s just a splint, Boss. Nothing to be alarmed by.’
There was a thin metal cage wrapped around his lower right leg made up of a series of thin chrome shafts, bracing his leg at several contact points. The metal shafts had a still-molten quality about them, as if they were formed from elongated beads of mercury that might quiver back to liquid form at any instant. The longer Dreyfus studied it, the more clearly it looked like the work of the Clockmaker, rather than any human artificer.
‘I thought it was going to kill me, or do something worse,’ he said, in a kind of awed shock. ‘Instead it did this.’
‘That doesn’t mean we misjudged it,’ Sparver said, ‘just that it has nice days.’
‘I don’t think that’s why it did this. It just wants me kept alive so I can serve a purpose.’
Sparver helped him to begin hobbling towards the door. ‘Which purpose would that be?’
‘The usual one,’ Dreyfus said. Then another troubling thought crystallised in his head. ‘Gaffney,’ he said.
