Jonah, strapped tightly into his stretcher and gazing up at the ceiling, suddenly heard the metal door squeal open, wheels on the rocky floor, and the sudden stab of Tye’s voice: ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Tye!’ Jonah shouted. I’m not losing you too. ‘Tye, I’ll find you.’
Street crossed to him, still all smiles and soft-spoken. ‘That’s very sweet. But you don’t need to worry about her just yet. We want her input for the big moment – Coldhardt’s momentous meeting with the members of Nomen Oblitum.’
‘You mean Saitou in his fright mask and a bunch of actors?’
Street tutted. ‘I’ll have you know, my friend, that the Scribe was once a venerable man. He’s a fallen priest from an occult Egyptian society.’
‘I’d like to see him fall a lot further.’
‘You don’t believe much in magic, do you, Jonah?’ Street leaned in closer. ‘Not like your friend Maya. You know, she’s gone very quiet since her cipherpunk partner upped sticks. She’s just pottering about in Geneva.’ His voice hardened a touch. ‘You said in Zamboanga you were nearing a breakthrough with translating the Bloodline Cipher. What did you tell Maya in that internet café?’
Jonah looked up into Street’s lined face and dark eyes. ‘Of course, you heard the keys clicking but you don’t know what we said …’
Street ignored him. ‘My own experts have studied a secret copy of that manuscript for years and come up with nothing.’
‘So the manuscript that the Scribe showed us was yours?’
‘An inferior version to the one in Blackland’s collection. It contains no appendix …’
Jonah tutted. ‘So you can’t even translate the first bit. Your experts are a bit useless, aren’t they?’
‘That’s why I’ve had to recruit others.’ Street smiled. ‘This year we found a Russian occult specialist who gave us a bit of background detail on the Guan Yin manuscript. He blabbed that Nomen Oblitum possessed a copy, but he died before he could tell us much more.’
Maya’s old tutor, Jonah realised dully. The one who disappeared, never to be seen again.
Street paused. ‘You know, we spent a long time wondering how best to bait the Heidel trap. And when Morell let it be known that Blackland possessed the only other copy of the Guan Yin manuscript in existence, I knew it was the perfect lure.’
‘You posed as NO men and used your knowledge of the manuscript to make Coldhardt believe you knew all its secrets.’ Jonah smiled. ‘But you never got beyond the title page that was cracked already, did you? Why not ask the real Nomen Oblitum? They exist – Maya knows of them. And the real Heidel was dealing with them thirty years ago …’
‘No one can contact them,’ Street murmured. ‘They come to their potential subjects – just as our oh-so-venerable Scribe came to Coldhardt. Now come on, my friend, tell me what you’ve found out about the cipher. We’ll get hold of the scans of the appendix and crack the code ourselves eventually, but why duplicate your own work? If the secret is worth something, maybe we could trade …?’
‘I’m making no deals with you.’
‘Still loyal to your boss, eh? Still think we’re the enemy?’
Jonah snorted softly. ‘Why do you hate Coldhardt so much?’
Street’s gaze drifted, as if he were seeing into the past. ‘We were like brothers,’ he said simply, ‘with Heidel the big man guiding us, the head of the organisation. It was a good life back then, you know. Like a family, but bigger and better … stronger than any family I’ve ever known. We made a pact of blood, uniting us, come what may …’ He smiled thinly, focused again. ‘Well. Old laws or new, Coldhardt figured nothing was strong enough to bind him to a contract. Nothing was ever good enough. He turned on us all – killed Heidel, stole his fortune, destroyed his files, tried to take everything away from us. All that was ours by rights, all that we’d been promised for the future –’
‘Oh, boo-hoo,’ said Jonah.
‘Coldhardt ran before we could kill him and he’s been running ever since. Building up his empire, using the likes of you to do it. Making you feel like family. Exploiting you. But now we’re taking back what’s ours by rights.’
No guesses who wrote the speeches for the Heidel impersonator, Jonah thought.
Street looked down at him with compassion. ‘I’m sorry things have to be this way, kid. I know how you must be hurting.’
‘Maybe you could ease the pain by adopting me,’ suggested Jonah. ‘I’m sure that after I’ve forgiven you and your consortium for killing Patch we could be really close.’
‘Nah, you’ll have to go to the highest bidder. We have costs to recover.’
‘I’m not for sale.’
‘Coldhardt bought you with a single smokestone.’ Street glared down at him. ‘At least it’s honest this way, Jonah. No dressing up the relationship as something it’s not. You’ll slave and steal for some rich son of a bitch and he’ll see you all right.’
‘And if I don’t cooperate?’
‘There are all kinds of implants.’ His smile was chilling. ‘Some can be made to hurt.’
Jonah looked away. ‘I don’t care what you do to me.’
‘Which is why we’re looking to auction you in twos – so the safety of one hinges on the good behaviour of the other. You and Tye could be together, doing what you do best for somebody new. Or you can sulk and say you won’t, and Tye gets to learn what pain really means. Just think about it a wee while.’ Street turned and walked away. ‘Con and Motti are thinking about it already. They send you their regards.’
Jonah said nothing. The door in the wall slammed shut and the key turned behind him but he kept on struggling in the stretcher. He knew he couldn’t afford to stop.
He and his friends were captured. Patch was dead. Coldhardt had sold them out. But no one was going to profit from today. No one would be scoring any victories.
He’d see these bastards burn first.
Tye was wheeled along in her stretcher by Bree, through an exquisite series of landscaped tunnels. It felt as though she were inside some enormous open-air temple, sculpted rather than built. The weather blew in through splits and holes in the tunnels, warm and fresh against the stone cool of the place. The crash of the sea, or a bright glimpse of shimmering blue, was never far away, and Tye supposed their path was following the coastline of the island.
She felt weirdly empty, but quite calm. It was like the scale of her grief had scared off her emotions, sent them all into hiding. Instead, in that numb inner landscape, the little things seemed magnified. She had an itch on her thigh she was desperate to scratch. She could smell her own sweat. Her mouth tasted sour, and she longed for the Tic-Tacs back in her hotel room at Zamboanga. Tye thought of her meagre belongings there. The staff would think they’d done a runner to get out of paying. They’d never know she could have bought that whole hotel if she’d wanted …
It was only then that her thoughts turned to all the things she had back in Geneva – the car, the yacht, the breathtaking view from her window. Stuff she would never see again.
And right now all she wanted was some mouth-wash and Jonah’s hand to hold.
That and Patch back.
Her thoughts shied from Coldhardt.
It was because of him Patch was dead.
And yet Patch had stayed with Coldhardt because of Tye, and Jonah, and Motti and Con – because of family. So maybe they all shared in the guilt. Each of them had faced death so many times; it came with the job, they each went into it with their eyes open. Like soldiers, she supposed. You just never, ever really think it will happen to you …
Like when you love someone and think it will last for ever. But then it doesn’t, and your whole world splits apart.
‘I will see you again,’ Coldhardt had told them, so definite as they left. She’d actually found it comforting at the time. But all the time he’d meant he’d see them here, locked up and ready for auction.
‘Ah. Here is our living lie detector.’
Tye recognised the voice of Heidel – the impostor. Bree stopped pushing and a moment later the old man’s head appeared, looming over her. She saw his eyes were no longer rheumy, they were clear. Trick contact lenses, she supposed, to make him seem way older than he could’ve been.
When Heidel spoke again, the voice was a little higher and softer – his real voice, presumably. ‘You know, you hurt me when you threw me over your shoulder on the boat.’
Just leave me alone, thought Tye, wishing she could itch, trying to concentrate on the smash of the sea on the rocks outside. Such a beautiful, fresh sound.
‘Perhaps I should exact some recompense for your actions now,’ Heidel persisted, ‘while you’re so very helpless.’
‘If it’s any consolation, I’ve beaten myself up already,’ said Tye languidly. ‘I should have seen sooner who was the boss and who was the lackey. When we faced off at Blackland’s, it was Bree who took all the real decisions, Bree who refused to hand over the gun … It was even Bree that you looked to when you said it was time to go – like you were getting approval.’
‘Not so stupid, are you, Tye?’ Bree smiled. ‘It’s one thing to find an impostor who not only resembles your chosen subject, but who can take on their character … it’s quite another to find one prepared to threaten, maim and kill for money. I think we can forgive our Heidel a slight lack of leadership qualities. And I think your people-watching talents make you the most dangerous of your little gang by far.’
‘You know, it’s very liberating, committing acts of violence in character,’ said Heidel. ‘You can just walk away and tell yourself someone else did it.’
You’re not going to just walk away from this, Tye thought. Just give me one tiny chance to get even … ‘I suppose you didn’t need to stay in character by the time you got on our boat,’ Tye noted. ‘The real boss would never have come out to the front lines.’
‘Your ex-boss is on his way to the front lines right now,’ Bree reminded her. ‘Which is why we need that keen eye of yours.’
‘Are you taking her to the inner sanctum now?’ Heidel asked.
‘Tag along, if you like,’ Bree offered. ‘Prepare for your big entrance.’
With a lurch, Tye was off again, wheeled through the labyrinth of rock. Primitive paintings had been daubed on the ceilings, showing curly waves outlined in red, huge crimson sunflowers and figures with spears. They looked ancient, but were probably as fake as everything else in this set-up.
Then suddenly dark rock gave way to piercingly blue sky as the latest tunnel gave on to an outdoor arena, as large as a tennis court but with high, circular walls. A kind of balcony ran around the perimeter, ten metres or so above ground level, gouged from the solid rock, affording onlookers a better view than the one Tye had, pinioned and flat on her back.
She craned her neck to take in her surroundings. A wicker throne had been constructed at the rear of the arena, flanked by a smaller seat on either side. Water had collected in a natural sinkhole in the middle of the floor, where petals and lily pads floated serenely. Three smaller tunnels branched away from the arena, roughly aligned with each of the three seats. The place had the calm and gentleness of a temple about it.
Tye wondered how long that would last.
‘Where will you put her?’ asked Heidel.
‘Saitou will decide,’ said Bree. ‘It’s his show. I’m just the one who makes it happen.’
There were some people milling about by the sheer walls, dressing certain cracks and crannies with festoons of flowers bound into Knots of Isis, like they were adding detail to a movie set for filming.
Suddenly, Tye heard Street’s voice from some way off, calling Bree over. She strained to hear their conversation.
‘… they say the Aswang’s cameras picked up a man moving about the wreckage there, on deck,’ Street reported.
‘Pirate scout, most probably,’ Bree responded. ‘Or a looter.’
‘The captain had gathered up the bodies of the dead and injured, but this bandit boarded and …’
Heidel came to stand beside Tye. ‘I wonder who’ll bid for you?’ he said. ‘Wonder where you’ll end up?’
Shut up, she thought, trying to listen to Bree.
‘… Coldhardt shows, he’ll be scanned for weapons,’ the bitch was saying, ‘and once he’s escorted here …’
But Heidel kept speaking over her. ‘Do you suppose your new employers will keep you chained up like a dog on a leash, hmm?’
Impatiently, Tye turned on him. ‘I hope the real Heidel was better at intimidation than you are,’ she said. ‘You’re the kind of thug who kills an old man with a baseball bat. That doesn’t make me afraid. Just makes me want to kick your ass.’
Heidel sneered down at her and patted her tightly bound ankle. ‘That I’d like to see.’
So would I, thought Tye dismally.
‘Ah, so the players begin to arrive.’
The voice was deep and close by, and sounded faintly German. Tye heard sandals slap on the rock, heard a gull clatter away from a high perch in the wall. Then an aging Asian man with windblown dark hair in a black tracksuit came into her line of vision. She recognised Karl Saitou from the photograph back in the hangout, but he had definitely gone to seed. He looked at Bree and his smile seemed a little too big for his face; a face that had grown gaunt and sunken, like someone had stuck a straw up beneath his chin and sucked hard.
‘Is she behaving?’ he asked. ‘Will she do it?’
‘I thought I’d let you explain what we want,’ Bree demurred.
‘Well, Tye, it’s pretty simple …’ He looked down at her with the kind of smile a company boss might give the mail worker. ‘Coldhardt’s coming here shortly for what he believes will be his first full consultation with Nomen Oblitum … his first steps towards extending his lifespan.’
‘Oh, the irony,’ chimed Bree.
Saitou nodded happily. ‘He’s bought into the whole deal; he’s already delivered you as a down payment. But naturally the cost of treating him will be far higher. You remember that enamelled gold ring of Coldhardt’s that you stole from Sadie’s finger and took back home?’
She didn’t bother to reply.
‘Well, we were kind of hoping you would do that.’ His grin almost split open his face, and Tye wished she could give it a hand. ‘That ring now contains another of our miniaturised chip-implants – one that uses wireless tech to invisibly splice itself into a local computer network. Being inside the hub, it can bypass all firewalls and external security, and we can access it remotely to get to anything stored on Coldhardt’s network – his bank accounts, property deals, contacts worldwide …’ He slapped a jovial hand down on her shoulder. ‘And all thanks to you, girl! You took the bait … and placed it right where I wanted it.’
‘She’s a bloody liability.’ Heidel chuckled. ‘No wonder Coldhardt wanted rid of her.’
Tye refused to react, looking past their stupid laughing faces to the epic circle of blue sky above, the scrapes of white cloud blowing across it.
‘OK, Tye, now here’s the deal,’ Saitou went on. ‘You should know that we’re going to play a little joke here today. It’s beautiful. We’ve gathered together everyone who’s been a part of this, everyone who’s put up funds to take Coldhardt down …’ He gestured to the balcony. ‘And, suitably disguised, they’re going to watch his downfall, here in my temple.’
‘You see, Coldhardt believes it’s Nomen Oblitum’s headquarters,’ Bree put in. ‘He will be escorted in and presented to the Scribe, his man-at-arms –’
‘That’s me by the way,’ said Saitou.
‘– and the Mage … who will turn out to be none other than Heidel.’
‘Can you imagine the look on Coldhardt’s face?’ Saitou guffawed. ‘The humiliation?’
Now Tye looked at him. ‘You’ve been waiting, like, thirty years to play a schoolboy prank?’
‘To destroy Coldhardt.’ Saitou’s face had suddenly drained of humour. ‘Same way he destroyed our organisation, our way of life. He killed the boss, siphoned off the funds for himself, and disappeared.’ He towered over her, dark eyes narrowing, spittle flecking his lips as his speech got hoarser. ‘I’ve waited so long to get back at him. Spent decades studying the highest martial arts, made myself better and stronger than he could ever be. I’ve spent years tracking his activities, gathering allies from the people he’s trampled over, waiting for the perfect opportunity to reel him in, and now I’ve finally got him.’ He mimed gripping something with both hands, a throat maybe. ‘Got him to dispose of as I choose.’
Tye stared up at Saitou and was surprised to feel a trace of pity. Could that be me in thirty years, she thought, eaten away by the life I’ve led, nothing left but the need to hate? She thought of Patch, who would stay young in her mind now, unchanging, for ever. The tears lumped up in her throat again.
‘I want you to watch the whole thing, Tye,’ Saitou snapped fiercely, ‘because when I’m finished humbling Coldhardt, when I’ve brought him down as far as he can go, I’m going to ask him if he’s sorry – if he’s truly ashamed for all that he’s done. And you will know if he’s telling the truth, and you will tell me.’ He put his hand to the side of her neck. ‘If you don’t … if I think you’re lying to try to protect him … this is a taste of the kind of pain I can give you and your friends.’
He flicked the skin of her neck with one finger, and twisted his thumb against the base of her skull. Tye gasped as a wave of crippling cramp seemed to sear through her entire body. She started to convulse, unable to control the pain, unable to do anything, even find breath to scream. This is why I’m strapped down so tight, she realised. So they can do this.
The ordeal screamed on, and Tye realised she must have blacked out for a few moments. When she came to, she felt like someone had stuffed her skin full of tinder and set fire to it. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her lip was gashed where she must have bitten it. But Saitou was still hovering over her. He smiled and leaned in, whispering like a doting father to his swaddled baby.
‘Just a taste,’ he said.