“I tried, Bill,” Wallace said. “I got the boat here. I climbed out to look for you, and there they were. Coming up in boats.”
“You don’t reckon Ryan has cameras none of you know about?” Cavendish sneered. “’Specially outside this place. You think you’re the only ones who tried to leave? Others tried—they’re Big Daddies now. The external camera caught ol’ Wallace here slippin’ out…”
“Ryan—is he dead?” Elaine asked. Her eyes showed hope; her voice was defiant.
“Nyet,” Karlosky said. “A headache. But he is strong man. Not so easy to kill. Your man—he did not have nerve to finish job.”
“Couldn’t do it,” Bill admitted miserably. “He was my friend. There was a time he was like another father to me.”
Redgrave nodded. His voice was husky as he said, “I hear that, Mr. McDonagh. I sure do. It’s the same with me. I’m sorry—I’d like to help you. You were always good to me. But…”
“I know,” Bill said. “But let me ask you one thing. Did he send you to bring my wife and child in? Or just me and Wallace?”
“I…” Redgrave glanced at Cavendish. “I heard him say: ‘Stop Bill McDonagh. And that traitor Wallace.’ That’s all he said.”
“He does not want
Bill looked at Karlosky. “I’ll take what’s coming to me. You can tell him anything you want about my girls. Tell Ryan that the splicers got ’em.”
Cavendish snorted. “Karlosky’s not doing any goddamn thing of the sort.”
Bill went on, looking steadily at Karlosky. “We got drunk together, you and me, Karlosky, more than once. Christmas Eves. Holidays. Long nights with vodka. We fought side by side in battle…”
Karlosky licked his lips. Comradeship mattered to Karlosky.
“What’s this horseshit?” Cavendish growled, seeing Karlosky hesitate. “You three turn around, like he said.”
“Yes,” Bill said. “Elaine, Sophie—turn around. Just do it.”
Their eyes welling with tears, his wife and child turned, and Bill locked eyes with Karlosky. “What do you say, mate. One favor. I know you can’t let me go… But you can let
Redgrave looked back and forth between them, looking like he was trying to make up his own mind…
Cavendish frowned. “What’s all this horsepucky? Come on, let’s move, stop wasting time, Karlosky, you damned Russian drunk!”
Karlosky raised his eyebrows at that, looked thoughtful. But at last he shook his head. “No, Bill—sorry. Too risky.”
Redgrave sighed and pointed his gun at Karlosky. “Ivan—this man here, he and his wife had me over for dinner, more than once. Only white people in this place that done that. I can’t let Bill leave Rapture. But we didn’t get no orders about his family.”
Cavendish snarled, twitched his gun toward Redgrave. “You black-assed son of a—”
But that’s when Karlosky turned and shot Cavendish in the side of the head. Two shots. Blood and brains splashed as Cavendish jerked sideways, took a shaky step—and fell.
“Bastard,” Karlosky said, spitting on the body.
Elaine and Sophie screamed, clutching at each other.
Wallace stared in dull amazement. “Christ, Karlosky!”
Elaine looked around to see what had happened—but she kept Sophie turned away.
Karlosky glared at Redgrave—then looked down at Cavendish. “I don’t like to be pushed around, Redgrave,” Karlosky said. “But Cavendish—he was asshole. Wanted to kill him many times! And anyway—if anyone is going to insult you… will be me!”
Elaine turned slowly to them, clutching Sophie to her. She winced at the sight of Cavendish’s shattered head and said, “Mr. Redgrave—
Redgrave shook his head apologetically, swinging the gun toward Bill. “I’m sorry. Bill and Wallace got to come with me.”
“I understand,” Bill said, meeting Redgrave’s eyes. “Ryan’s the one who gave you a chance. It was the same with me.”
“The launch’s idling out there, Mrs. McDonagh,” Wallace said in a dead voice. “Bottom of the stairs. All you got to do is cast off, press the drive lever, head straight on the way it’s pointing right now—that’ll take you to the sea lanes. Someone’ll see you. There’s a flare gun in the launch…”
Elaine was turning to Bill, looking stunned. “No, Bill…!”
Bill took her hand and kissed it. “Elaine… You know what you have to do now. For Sophie.”
Elaine shook her head.
Bill stepped closer, kissed her tear-stained lips. Then he pushed Sophie into her arms. “For Sophie…”
Her mouth buckled. But she nodded, just once. Face white, lips trembling, Elaine took Sophie by the hand and walked away from him. They walked past the bathysphere, toward the little corridor leading to the stairs…
“What about
“We’ll talk about it later, hon,” Elaine said. “Daddy has some business right now…”
Bill’s daughter looked back over her shoulder at him. Bill tried to fill his mind with the last sight he would have of her. “Good-bye, love!” he called, waving once. “Your old dad loves you!” Then Elaine pulled Sophie along with her, through a doorway, and out of his sight…
Karlosky looked at Bill, then nodded toward a nearby window. Bill walked to the window; through it could see sun sparkling on sea. Blue sky, white clouds sailing by.
He waited. Men with guns behind him. Watching him.
After a few minutes he saw the small vessel, moving on the surface of the sea, away to the northeast, to the sea lanes.
Bill felt a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said, turning away from the window.
The four of them got into the bathysphere. Karlosky and Redgrave, keeping their weapons on Bill, and Roland Wallace.
“I’m sorry, Roland,” Bill said. “This is my fault, mate.”
Roland shook his head. “I was going to try it anyway. Not your fault. Proud to know you.”
When they got to the bottom, there were three more constables waiting. “Take this one to Suchong,” Karlosky said, shoving Wallace toward them.
Wallace went meekly with them.
“What they going to do with Roland?” Bill asked softly.
“Who knows?” Redgrave said sadly.
Bill tried to think about escape. But all the fight seemed to have drained out of him. He knew he wouldn’t see his baby girl or his wife again. And Karlosky was good at what he did. He’d never let Bill get by him again.
Bill walked ahead of Karlosky and Redgrave to the Metro. The journey to Central Control was like a journey back in his mind, more than ten years in Rapture. New York City. London. The war…
That boy being sucked out the shattered fuselage of the plane… He’d always felt bad, surviving when that kid had died—that young man, and other men. Friends who’d gone down in burning bombers. Well, now he had a chance to be with them…
They reached Central Control, and he found himself in the shadow of the dead. He looked up to see the decayed corpse of Frank Fontaine, stuck on a stake, like a Jesus who missed the resurrection boat. Ryan had the body crudely sewn up, brought here, and posted. A message to his enemies. Which is what Bill was about to be. Karlosky handed Redgrave his machine gun, then drew a pistol from under his coat, and stepped behind Bill.
Bill heard the sound of Karlosky cocking the gun. “Supposed to crucify you, before killing,” Karlosky remarked. “But—I always liked you. So. Quick death.”
“I guess I should’ve killed Ryan,” Bill said. His voice sounded thick and unnatural in his own ears. “He must be gloating…”
