Adelaide stared at her. Jannike got awkwardly to her feet. Adelaide waited until the white curtain had descended behind her friend’s back.
“I’ll pay you double what she did. Triple. A thousand lys, untaxed credit. Tell me what you know about my brother.”
“My knowledge is no greater than yours.”
“I’m a Rechnov. I’m ordering you.”
“Tellers obey a higher order.”
“Just tell me if he’s alive, at least tell me that. Please, I need to know.”
But the Teller would say no more. She shook off Adelaide’s grasp with an irritated gesture and her hands disappeared into the folds of her garments. The curtain lifted behind Adelaide. The brightness inside the enclosure diminished and she had a brief glimpse of the Teller under normal electric light, the shadows of tiredness on her young face. The man who had ushered Adelaide in beckoned her out.
Adelaide’s scarab was glowing. She checked the screen, looked for Jannike and spotted her friend browsing salt tins at a craft stand. Adelaide walked over to the opposite side of the hall where a plasma display depicted the history of Tellers through the ages.
“Yes?” she spoke into the scarab.
“I hear you’ve been staking out Sanjay Hanif’s office.”
Adelaide spoke sharply. “I’ve been trying to contact you.”
“At first I thought you were being extraordinarily stupid, but then I decided it may work in our favour. After all, if they know you were camping out across the way, it detracts from any possible connection with me.”
“Have you been following me?”
“I’m aware of your movements.”
“How thoughtful of you. And do you have any information about my brother, or did you just contact me to explain how you’ve been misusing my funds?”
“At this stage I have no concrete evidence to report. The witnesses’ stories all corroborate Hanif’s versions.”
“So there’s nothing.”
“I said nothing concrete. I have a potential lead. The maid you employed-Yonna-she mentioned seeing an unfamiliar woman leave the penthouse one day before she started work. She was able to give a rough description.”
“A woman? What kind of woman?”
“Unlikely to be a sexual liaison, if that’s what you’re thinking. The maid said it was a plain woman who looked to be in her forties. Possibly an airlift.”
“And you think you can find her?”
“I’m looking. If she is an airlift, it will make it all the easier. Ex-westerners are distinctive whether they wish to be or not.”
“Call me when you do. And whilst you’re talking, there’s something else.” She lowered her voice. “We need to get into the penthouse where my brother lived.”
“Can’t do it. Possible crime scene, Hanif’s put high security on the entrance. His people won’t be bribed.”
“I’m sure in your line of work, Mr Lao…”
“Absolutely not. Forget this idea.”
“But I need to-”
“I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead.
“You’d better be,” she muttered. Masking her fury at Lao’s insouciance, she stood in front of a looping documentary about Seela Nayagam, the first official Teller to work in Osiris. Footage from 2372, read the caption. The images were forty-five years old. Everyone visited Tellers, whether they heeded them or not. Axel used to wind them up. Adelaide had always felt more ambiguous.
Jannike was haggling when she returned. She held out her prize for Adelaide to examine; an oval tin with crocodile pattern etchings.
“Nice,” Adelaide agreed.
“So did she say anything? Why did you ask if Axel had left Osiris?”
Adelaide thought of Axel’s last words, of the balloon. “Just a whim,” she said. The Teller’s words echoed in her head. Nobody leaves Osiris.
“You never talk about him, not even to me. I know you miss him, I know you must be miserable. And he was my friend as well, you know. Remember when we used to sneak out to the Roof and drink Kelpiqua? Remember when we stayed out in that crazy storm for a dare?”
“Axel was furious.”
“Of course he was, that was a proper Tarctic. We could all have died.”
“Or one of us.” He was afraid of us being separated, she thought. More than the storm. “There’s no point in talking about it, Jan. There’s nothing to be done.”
Jannike sighed. She took Adelaide’s hand and squeezed it and let go. Briefly Adelaide considered telling her about Lao, and what she had paid him to do, before dismissing the notion. She loved Jan, but her friend was a liability.
“I’d rather drink,” she said.
“Come on, then. I’ll take you to a new place.”
They went to the neon emporiums of the Strobe. The towers threw out light and noise and the whole was cut by laser lines from the Rotating Towers central to it all. Every night, packed with frantic pulses, the Strobe’s towers vibrated with renewed intensity. Hour after hour, from east to west, they branded the darkness until the grey light of day stripped it of all effect and nudged the ravers home. From boats, even from beyond the ring-net, people said you could see it beating like a great cold heart. They said it woke the ghosts.
Autumn lingered. The ice season was drawing near. They danced, and they drank. They split a bag of milaine along the length of the bar, made patterns in the jade green powder, took turns to imbibe. More people came. They danced, and they drank; they drank and they danced some more. By midnight, the world had become an inchoate place. Neither Adelaide or Jannike could stand straight. Adelaide knew that it did not matter. They were young, and they cared for nothing, because nothing in Osiris cared for them.
14 ¦ VIKRAM
H e heard the door handle twist. In the second the door swung open, anticipation dried his throat.
Adelaide Mystik’s face was clean and angry. She was wearing a see-through kimono over something made out of silk and lace. Both garments stopped at her thighs. She did not look like someone who had just woken up, although Vikram had been knocking persistently for the past ten minutes.
“Hello,” he said. “Is this a good time?”
“Who the hell are you?”
She did not look especially vulnerable either.
“My name’s Vikram. I met you once before. Well, not met exactly. Actually you threw me out.”
Her eyes narrowed into mossy crevasses. “Rose Night,” she said. “Linus’s spy. I thought you’d got the message. Now fuck off before I call my security.”
She slammed the door.
Vikram waited. The corridor was impossibly quiet. He could hear his own breathing. He reminded himself that it was almost four in the morning; on this side of the city, people were sleeping, and silence the norm. The twist of apprehension loitered nonetheless.
He plunged his hands into his coat pockets to stop himself fidgeting with a new rip. It was not an unpromising start; it looked as though his insomnia theory was correct, and Adelaide had given him an ultimatum before actually calling for security. He assumed. Noise distracted him, a faint progression of clicks like the second
