hand of a watch magnified tenfold. It seemed to come from the ceiling. He looked up. The chandelier shone dimly. Who lived above Adelaide Mystik?
Five minutes later he banged on the door again. This time it flew open immediately.
“Who the hell do you think you are? I said fuck off.” She glared at him.
It was the aggression of the girl which convinced Vikram he was safe. Brazen, but theatrical. It lacked the edge of promise.
“Aren’t you curious about why I’m here?”
“No. Double fuck off.”
The door started to shut. Vikram wedged his foot to block it. Through the gap, Adelaide stared down at his dirty boot. Her attitude changed. She arranged herself against the mirrored wall of her hallway, delivering an evil smile. Her lack of fear was almost insulting. He supposed it came hand in hand with her arrogance-as the Architect’s granddaughter, she’d never had to be afraid.
“Have you ever been in jail, what was it-Vikram?”
“For a number of days. And yes, it’s Vikram.”
“What’s it like down there?”
He ignored this. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m not a spy. Not for Linus, or for anyone. I’m here for my own reasons.”
“To be arrested?” she enquired.
Vikram remembered Linus’s reaction the first time Vikram had sought him out. There were similarities between brother and sister, and not just their looks. Confidence rose from them like a costly, seductive perfume.
“That’s up to you,” he said.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “It is.”
She surveyed him speculatively. Something had given him the edge of advantage. She had not called for backup, as he had thought she might. There was a reason for that; she might be unafraid, but presumably she wasn’t stupid. Perhaps she did not trust her own people.
Perhaps she was just bored.
“I’m here because I think you’re the only one who can help me,” he said.
Adelaide cocked her head.
“That’s entirely possible. But you’re missing one crucial element. Why would I want to help you?”
He shrugged, following instinct. “Because you’d be doing something you’ve never done before.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’d be helping people.”
She looked unimpressed.
“And it would make you look good,” he added.
“I don’t have an issue with the way I look, do you?” she said sweetly, and if he did not meet that gaze he had to look at the rest of her, which was no doubt what she intended. There was only one way to play this game. He stared at her openly for a good ten seconds before replying. The posters did not lie: she was that beautiful.
“Not especially,” he said.
“Good.” There was a pause, and he wondered if he had read her right. Then she said, “Two minutes then.”
Vikram looked past her into the apartment. A lone red petal wilted on the floorboards of the mirrored hallway.
“Can I come in?”
“I’m fond of the doorstep.”
“Fine. But I don’t think you’re very hospitable.”
Adelaide’s eyes snapped with apparent delight at this game. “You’ve lost a good twenty seconds already.”
Inside his coat pockets, Vikram crossed his fingers.
“Listen,” he said. “This city has everything. It wouldn’t take much to give some aid to the people who need it. I know it doesn’t affect you now but one day it might. People are angry, over there, in the bit you forget about. But we do exist. There will be more riots and one day the violence will come here and then you’ll wish you did something about it before. But if you used your influence like Linus said you could-”
“Leave Linus out of it,” Adelaide interrupted. “More. Seconds. Lost.”
He looked at her for a moment, not as he had before, but as though he was searching her out. Testing her. He doubted anyone had ever looked at Adelaide Mystik this way before, and he was not sure how she might react. But she seemed to lean into his gaze. She did not break the silence.
“Have you ever seen anyone dead?” Vikram asked.
“Yes,” she said. “My grandmother.”
“Did you see her die?”
“She died in her sleep. I saw her afterwards.”
“It’s different when you watch them die.”
“Is it.”
“You should know,” he said. “You were at the execution.”
She stared back at him in a way that should have been frank, if she had been capable of frankness. He sensed catacombs beneath her expressions.
“You knew that man?” she asked. “Eirik 9968, you knew him?”
“Not personally.” Once again, a flutter of guilt accompanied the lie. It was impossible to tell whether she believed him.
“Then who died on you? Death seems important to you, so who was it?”
“I’ve known a lot of people who died.”
“It’s never about the many. Nobody’s that philanthropic.”
“Her name was Mikkeli,” he said blankly.
“Ah. A girl.” Adelaide twirled a strand of red hair between two fingers. “And is that why you want to help your people, for this dead girl?”
Her words were probing fingers, digging through his hair and his skull to root around inside. Vikram told himself it did not matter what he said now. Adelaide could have what answers she wanted as long as she helped him.
“Something like that.”
“Something like that,” she repeated. Her gaze idled up and down him. Vikram matched it.
“Yes.”
“And what exactly do you want to do for your westerners?”
“Food. Warmth. Jobs. Hope. Is that concise enough?”
“I’m not sure,” she mused. “I suspect it might turn out to be rather more complicated than that.”
“I could tell you more, but it might take longer than your two minute allocation.”
“You are insolent.” Adelaide toyed with the lace of her nightclothes. “What are you going to do for me in exchange for my voice?”
“What do you need?” He kept his face expressionless. A smile lit up her beautiful, flawless features.
“I’m sure I can find something. Let’s just call it an i.o.u. for now, shall we? Meet me at The Stingray on Friday. Fourteen o’clock. Don’t be late.”
“I’ll be there,” he said.
She reached out, past the doorway for the first time, ran her finger lightly along the edge of his jawline. Her face was close to his. She looked incredibly young; only the traces of lines in their making showed she had left her teens behind. Perhaps it was that that made her so unreadable, like a slate yet to be written.
“You know it won’t bring her back,” she said.
It wasn’t a compassionate line. He wondered why she had said it.
“I think I know that.”
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
