“You got out,” said Nils. His voice was gruff.
“You got me out, it seems.”
Nils glanced around.
“Yeah, well, long story.”
Vikram had the same sinking sensation he had felt talking to Linus. There was something else going on here, something he did not yet understand. Drake’s grin began to falter.
“Long time no see, Vik,” said Rikard. Hostility there, Vikram thought. He met the other man’s eyes squarely.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.”
“You dealt with the boat?” The third man spoke to Ilona, curtly, but his eyes flicked to Vikram. He wore no hood or a hat and his head was shorn; he was either immune to the cold, or it was a statement.
“It’s gone,” Ilona said.
“You’ve checked him for trackers?”
“One on the neck. Dampened. I can’t get it off, those things stick.”
“That’s Pekko,” Drake murmured.
“What do you mean stick?” Vikram said uneasily.
Pekko gazed at him. “The Citizens use semi-implants as trackers. Don’t worry. You’ll get it off once we’re done here.”
An icy pool was forming around Vikram’s feet. The heater was beginning to melt the ice in his clothes. Its warmth, coming out of the cold, was almost an assault. He was starting to feel giddy.
“So what’s going on?” he asked. “You’ve got Adelaide here?”
Drake’s smile dropped away. Nils frowned. Suddenly Vikram wondered if even his best friends did not trust him. He was acutely aware of his appearance. His clothes, even wrecked by water, had a different cut. His hair felt clipped and wrong. He had a stamp on the back of his neck.
Pekko broke the silence.
“Nils, check him again, get him new clothes.” He gave the orders in this cell, then. Was Pekko the coordinator that Linus had described?
“Oh-” as they turned to move. “And don’t touch this wall-it’s live.”
Vikram glanced back. Pekko was standing, his hands thrust into his pockets, a smile curving his lips but not parting them. Vikram looked at the wall. It was damp. He thought he saw a spark, but in the murky light and his current state of disorientation, he could not be certain of what he was seeing.
“Sure,” he said.
Nils took a torch and led Vikram into the adjacent room. The torch flickered over rows and rows of metre-high counters. The strip lighting over each unit was broken, the glass long stolen and wires dangling down, frozen into twisting spirals. Vikram recognised the layout of the space. He had seen it in working greenhouses.
“We’re using this for storage,” said Nils, indicating a unit where a few blankets were folded and stacked. There were sealed containers of food, a toolbox, a couple of pans, a disconnected Neptune.
The door swung closed behind them. Vikram grabbed Nils’s arm.
“What’s going on in there?”
“It’s a fucking awkward situation,” Nils hissed.
“Then tell me about it!”
“They don’t trust you. Pekko. Rikard. The people running this show. Here, change into these.”
Nils handed him a bundle. Vikram stripped off his dripping clothes, retrieving the medicine given him by the nurse, and changed quickly. The new clothes were shabby and didn’t fit well, but they were warm. Someone must have placed them near the heater before he arrived. Drake, probably.
“Why did they get me out if they don’t trust me?”
“Because you’re one of ours.”
“Precisely!”
Nils hesitated. “The Citizens must have offered you a deal.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Pekko thought you might have-accepted.”
“Who the hell’s Pekko, anyway? I thought there was some kind of rebellion group-is it just you guys?”
Nils leant against the door and folded his arms.
“Vik, this is more complicated than you realize. Pekko’s in charge here. And it’s not just us, he’s working for Maak. Remember Maak? The guy Mikkeli used to take deliveries for? He’s way up the ladder now. They call the group Surface, as though it’s a movement, like Horizon, but it’s not. It’s Maak-or his people-that own Ilona. He probably brought down Juraj. And he’s orchestrating this uprising. They’re playing a game, Vik. It’s about more than territory now, it’s about people. Getting Adelaide-and now you back-it’s a statement, you see. I mean, there’s never been a hostage situation before. Why d’you think we’re holed up like lice in this cursed place?” Nils spat on the ground to ward off any spirits that might be listening. “You should also know that Pekko hates Citizens,” he said. “Pathologically.”
“So I’m a Citizen now, am I?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Do you trust me?” Nils did not reply. “Nils, do you trust me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, course I do.” Nils scooped up the pile of Vikram’s old clothes and began to wring them out. “I suppose we’ll have to burn these.”
“Great, we can have a fire.”
“Look, just be careful, okay? You’ve been away for a while. Things have been happening. Riots have been on the cards for a good while now.”
“Yeah, well, I wish you’d said something before.”
Nils shrugged.
I wasn’t here, thought Vikram.
“You look terrible,” Nils said. “I guess it was hell in there.”
Silence fell between him; Vikram trying to find a way to communicate what could not be explained, Nils no doubt trying to imagine a place which could not be imagined.
“Thanks for getting me out,” Vikram said. “I was going mad.”
“Yeah.” Nils’s eyes dropped. “You can guarantee Pekko wants something from you. He likes making people do things. That’s why he sent Ilona to get you, not me or Drake-as if she has to prove herself before they’ll let her go.”
“Right.”
It came as no real surprise. He felt only resignation, and a dull ache, where another hook had been planted in his body for someone else to pull upon, in yet another direction. Linus Rechnov, Maak and Pekko-between them they would tear him apart.
They were about to go back when Vikram said, “Where is Adelaide, anyway?”
Nils scowled. “In another room. She’s a pain in the ass.”
Vikram forced a laugh. “You think so, huh?”
“Never stops talking,” Nils mumbled. He stopped. “Vikram, tell me honestly. Have you got a thing for that girl?”
“Honestly? No.”
Nils looked at him and Vikram wasn’t sure his friend believed the lie.
“Why?”
Nils did not answer.
They gathered around the heater, Nils and Ilona huddled together, Drake next to Vikram. Scraps of material and a scissored tarpaulin had been wedged into every crack around the window-wall board, but there was still a draught at Vikram’s back. Damp char was everywhere. The others had tried to sweep the floor but the stuff came off on his clothes and all of them were sooted with it.
“Can someone explain the situation?” he asked. “I didn’t get much out of the Citizens.”
“It’s fragile,” said Pekko tersely. Vikram kept his gaze neutral. Clearly he was gaining no votes of confidence from Pekko. “The city is withholding kelp and fish supplies. We’re already on rations and rumour has it supplies are
