somewhere other than in the basement of the Chateau. ‘These are strange times,’ H said, with no little sympathy. ‘I sense that we live at the end of history, that great scores are soon to be settled. Difficult choices must soon be made. Now, shall we go and see the people I mentioned earlier on?’ Clavain nodded. ‘I can’t wait.’ Antoinette left the rim train at the closest station to the rented repair shop. Something about Xavier’s attitude had struck her as unusual, but it was nothing she could quite put her finger on. With some trepidation she checked out the repair shop’s waiting area and business desk. Nothing doing there, just a ‘closed for business’ sign on the door. She double-checked that the repair bay was pressurised and then pushed through to the interior of the bay itself. She took the nearest connecting catwalk, never looking down. The air in the bay was heady with aerosols. She was sneezing by the time she reached the ship’s own airlock, and her eyes were itching. ‘Xavier…’ she called. But if he was deep inside Storm Bird he would never hear her. She would either have to find him or wait until he came out. She had told him she would arrive in twenty minutes. She went through into the main flight deck. Everything looked normal. Xavier had called up some of the less commonly used diagnostic read-outs, some of which were sufficiently obscure that even Antoinette viewed them with mild incomprehension. But that was exactly what she would have expected when Xavier had half the ship’s guts out on the table. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’ She looked around, seeing Xavier standing behind her with an expression on his face that meant he was begging forgiveness for something. Behind him were two people she did not recognise. The taller of the two strangers indicated that she should follow them back into the lounge area aft of the main bridge. ‘Please do as I tell you, Antoinette,’ the man said. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’ Xavier said, ‘I think you’d better do it. I’m sorry I made you come here, but they said they’d start trashing the ship if I didn’t.’ Antoinette nodded, stooping back along the connecting corridor. ‘You did right, Xave. Don’t eat yourself up over it. Well, who are these clowns? Have they introduced themselves?’ ‘The tall one’s Mr Clock. The other one, the pig, he’s Mr Pink.’ The two of them nodded in turn as Xavier spoke their names. ‘But who are they?’ ‘They haven’t said, but here’s a wild stab in the dark. They’re interested in Clavain. I think they might possibly be spiders, or working for the spiders.’ ‘Are you?’ Antoinette asked. ‘Hardly,’ Remontoire said. ‘And as for my friend here…’ Mr Pink shook his gargoylelike head. ‘Not me.’ ‘I’d let you examine us if the circumstances were more amenable,’ Remontoire continued. ‘I assure you there are no Conjoiner implants in either of us.’ ‘Which doesn’t mean you aren’t spider stooges,’ Antoinette said. ‘Now, what do I need to do in order for you to get the fuck off my ship?’ ‘As Mr Liu correctly judged, we’re interested in Nevil Clavain. Have a seat…’ The one called Clock said it with steely emphasis this time. ‘Please, let’s be civil.’ Antoinette folded out a chair from the wall and parked herself in it. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone called Clavain,’ she said. ‘But your partner has.’ ‘Yeah. Nice one, Xave.’ She gave him a look. Why couldn’t he have just pleaded ignorance? ‘It’s no good, Antoinette,’ Clock said. ‘We know that you brought him here. We are not in any way angry with you for doing that — it was the human thing to do, after all.’ She folded her arms. ‘And?’ ‘All you have to do is tell us what happened next. Where Clavain went once you brought him to Carousel New Copenhagen.’ I don’t know.‘ ‘So he just magically disappeared, is that it? Without a word of thanks, or any indication of what he was going to do next?’ ‘Clavain told me the less I knew the better.’ Clock looked at the pig for a moment. Antoinette decided that she had scored a point. Clavain had wanted her to know as little as possible. It was only through her own efforts that she had found out a little more, but Clock did not have to know that. She added, ‘Of course, I kept asking him. I was curious about what he was doing here. I knew he was a spider, too. But he wouldn’t tell me. Said it was for my own good. I argued, but he stuck to his guns. I’m glad he did now. There’s nothing you can force me to tell you because I simply don’t know.’ ‘So just tell us exactly what happened,’ Clock said soothingly. ‘That’s all you have to do. We’ll work out what Clavain had in mind, and then we’ll be on our way. You’ll never hear from us again.’ I told you, he just left. No word of where he was going, nothing. Goodbye and thanks. That was all he said.‘ ‘He wouldn’t have had documentation or money,’ Clock said, as if to himself, ‘so he couldn’t have got far without a little help from you. If he didn’t ask for money, he’s probably still on Carousel New Copenhagen.’ The thin, deathly pale man leaned toward her. ‘So tell me. Did he ask for anything?’ ‘No,’ she said, with just the tiniest hesitation. ‘She’s lying,’ the pig said. Clock nodded gravely. I think you’re right, Mr Pink. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but there you have it. Needs must, as they say. Do you have the item, Mr Pink?‘ ‘The item, Mr Clock? You mean…’ Between the pig’s feet was a perfectly black box, like an oblong of shadow. He pushed it forwards, leaned down and touched some hidden mechanism. The box shuffled open to reveal many more compartments than appeared feasible from its size. Each held a piece of polished silver machinery nesting in precisely shaped cushioning foam. Mr Pink took out one of the pieces and held it up for scrutiny. Then he took out another piece and connected the two together. Despite the clumsiness of his hands he worked with great care, his eyes focused sharply on the work in progress. ‘He’ll have it ready in a jiffy,’ Clock said. ‘It’s a field trawl, Antoinette. Of spider manufacture, I’m obliged to add. Do you know a great deal about trawls?’ ‘Fuck off.’ ‘Well, I’ll tell you anyway. It’s perfectly safe, isn’t it, Mr Pink?’
