14
On the front page of the paper, Will had been skimming a story about a Russian mafia boss called Illyr Ruskin. According to the article, he’d wrested control of Moscow and St. Petersburg and was now in charge of an international crime gang whose illicit activities reached all the way to London.
Beneath this was an article about policing space. The UN was to hold a special assembly to discuss space laws, and methods to enforce them. “Our world is changing fast. We must keep up with it,” a British legal expert was quoted as saying.
Then, as Will had flicked through the paper, his eye caught a headline in a news brief column:
SUSPICIONS ABOUT MISSING SCIENTIST
Police are reissuing calls for information about the suspicious disappearance last week of Russian scientist Professor Vassily Baraban. It seems that Professor Baraban was abducted from his laboratory, said DI Charles Abraham of the Metropolitan Police.
Known in the former USSR as the “king of astrophysics,” Baraban fled from Russia to London with his family twelve years ago. His flight followed disgrace, after his experiments led to the destruction of two laboratories and the deaths of seven of Russia’s top scientists. Authorities said Baraban’s cutting-edge research on so-called “strangelets” had been gravely irresponsible.
Baraban’s wife has issued a statement: “Please, for my sake, for our son’s sake, if anyone knows where my husband is, contact the police.”
The news item beneath was titled: “Solar Flare Max: Disruptions Predicted.”
But Will did not notice it.
“I think,” he said, very quietly, “it’s time for the bill.”
Inside the restaurant, the two tiny tooth phones in Andrew’s and Gaia’s mouths vibrated. The vibration traveled up through their jaws, into their inner ears, and they heard Will’s voice.
Gaia cried out and Will clasped a hand to his ear.
“Quietly!” he hissed. “Talk quietly.”
“Can you hear me?” Andrew whispered.
“Yeah, I can hear you.”
“These are microphones too?”
“Yes,” Will said.
“But how can I hear you?”
“The sound’s traveling through your jawbone,” Will whispered.
“You are joking.”
And, despite himself, Will smiled. “Put them back in the box. I’ll come in for the bags.” But all he could think about was Vassily Baraban.
Back inside, Will noticed the confusion at once. “What’s going on?”
Andrew kept a straight face. “I have no idea.”
As Will packed away Tooth Talk, he hesitated. He’d been about to tell them about Baraban—but he was distracted. He thought he’d put Speak Easy to the side of Soft Landing. Now it was on top.
“You didn’t touch anything—”
“Touch your things?” Andrew said as he slung on his jacket. “Of course not.”
Will turned quickly. He watched two waiters, who emerged from the kitchen with a bucket of water and a cloth. They were heading for the nearest window. “No one touches these unless I give permission,” Will said. “I mean it.”
Andrew nodded, without meeting Will’s eyes.
“I mean it,” Will said. His tone had been hard, anger underlining the words.
Andrew glanced at Gaia, but she just looked right back. “All right,” he said, and he held up his hands. “Understood.”
As they walked into the courtyard, out of what had become a tumult of protest from bemused diners, into the sunshine, Gaia thanked Andrew for lunch.
“Don’t mention it,” Andrew said, thinking that, anyway, it was the table next to them that had offered to take care of their bill. Thanks to Speak Easy, of course. “And thank you for showing me your inventions,” he said to Will. “I didn’t expect they’d be so good.”
“What did you expect?”
Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know—nothing like that. I really am serious—you should go into business.”
“I thought STORM wasn’t for profit.”
Andrew’s eyes lit up. “So you’re happy to offer your inventive services?”
Will hesitated. He thought for a moment of the plane, and the lives they had saved. Andrew irritated him sometimes, but at heart he wasn’t bad. And he was smart. Gaia . . . Gaia probably was less straightforward. Plus, the exhilarating buzz that had been born the previous night still had not left him. And now—what did this new knowledge mean? What had happened to Vassily Baraban?
“I guess so,” Will said.
Andrew smiled. “You hear that, Gaia? We have The Maker. I’ll call for Sean.”
“No, wait,” Will said. He held up the newspaper, which had been clenched in his hand.
And he looked at Andrew.
“Did Caspian tell you about his father?”
“Tell me what?” Andrew said. His expression was blank.
“He was abducted. Last week.”
Andrew’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
Clearly it was news to them. Will nodded. He opened the paper and showed them the article. Andrew grabbed it, incredulous.
“But who abducted him?” he said.
“The police don’t know.”
“Caspian didn’t say anything . . .” Andrew said. “But when he came to the basement, his father had already been taken. He must have known. He didn’t say anything to me.”
“Isn’t that strange?”
“Not really—I don’t know.”
“I think it’s strange,” Will said.
“I think it’s strange,” Gaia echoed.
“Has he been acting differently?” Will asked.
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “I’ve known Caspian for eight years. I couldn’t predict him if I tried . . . So what do you want to do? Turn up at the lab and ask him what’s happened to his father—and what he’s working on? Do you think they’re linked? Do you think that’s why he didn’t come last night—something to do with his father?” He was looking at Gaia.
“We won’t know unless we ask,” Will said.
Gaia nodded.
Andrew frowned. “I suppose we could pay a friendly visit.” And he looked uncertainly at the street beyond the archway. In the past month, he hadn’t left home without the safety of the armor-plated SmarTruck and the burly Sean.
Gaia took his arm. “Come on,” she said quietly. “You’re with us. You’ll be all right. We can get a cab.”
As they left the gates, a man in a homburg hat and a brown Italian raincoat bent his head, apparently to read a city map. He’d ditched the sweater, jeans, and wool hat. This was one of the first rules of surveillance: If you can’t change the tail, change his clothes. Change his demeanor. If he walked with a straight back, have him switch to a slump. If he moved quickly, he should start to amble.
It worked. Will saw the back of the man’s head, registered nothing, and moved on.