Evensong

Anwar pushed again, inexpertly, trying to amplify the threat but still speaking quietly. “So that leaves your employers, and they won’t want to be identified. For the rest of your life, the whole world will be a darkness the size of the interior of your head.”

The quiet voice was intended to sound menacing, but Carne wasn’t buying it.

“Oh, behave,” he said languidly. “We both know I’ll activate the poison before you get anything useful. Your ham acting threatens to sully the dignity of my passing.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Two less, now. They annihilated Levin. Then Rafiq sent Asika, and they annihilated him too.”

Anwar wanted to cry out, but he didn’t. Not yet.

“Who are they? Where are they? How did they do it?”

“They’re even more subtle and ruthless than Rafiq.They’ve been there since before he was born, and they’ll be there after he dies. They work in long cycles, longer than his lifetime.” His voice was modulated and mocking. “Doctor Johnson used to say that the prospect of imminent death concentrates the mind wonderfully...You’re not very good at this, are you? At what comes before and after the easy bits that you do? Everything I am, I worked for. You, you were just made.”

Anwar moved in a blur to grab the man by his coat. “Who are they? Why did you come here?!”

Carne let out a long breath, and Anwar knew he had finally tripped the poison.

“You wouldn’t believe what they can do. I’m just a minor functionary of theirs. And you’re just a minor functionary of Rafiq. So our lives have both been pointless, but you’re still living yours.”

There was a dark stain spreading over the front of Carne’s trousers: the final effect of the poison, a slackening of his bladder.Urine, which he’d never spilt through any of Anwar’s attempts to scare him, now poured out.

Anwar turned away. The second person I’ve killed. And both of them by mistake.

When he needed to mask his feelings, as he did now, he could reach somewhere inside himself and find the ability to do it. He made his features neutral and static, as if he was a shrouded actor in a formal codified Noh drama. It was a minor piece of stagecraft, like the Idmask he used for Tournaments; but it came internally, and didn’t disguise his features, just covered his feelings. Normally he could hold it for hours, but after what he’d just discovered he calculated it wouldn’t last long; maybe long enough to get him through the next few minutes and into his suite where he could cal Arden Bierce.

The door opened and Anwar stepped out into the Boardroom, followed by a waft of urine. His manner seemed strangely normal.

“Anwar! What did you do to him?”

“Nothing.” The first time she’s used my name. “I threatened him with something, and he said something. Then he tripped his poison implants. Gaetano, I’d like his body kept securely here until the UN come for it.”

“Bodyguard duties,” Gaetano muttered. “I told you to leave the questioning to me.”

“What did he tell you?” Olivia asked.

“Something I need to check first with the UN…And I need permission for a VSTOL to land on the pad at the end of the Pier. They’ll want his body.” Without waiting for her answer, he turned to Gaetano. “I want you to put it around that he’s alive and being held here until the summit finishes. Someone might come for him.”

“What did you threaten him with?” Olivia asked.

He told her.

She stared. “Would you have done that?”

“Of course not. But the threat works.” Just not for me.

“Did...did you think it up?”

“No, Parvin Marek did. Remember Parvin Marek? About ten years ago he…”

“Yes, I know who he was.”

“Is. He’s still out there. And don’t gape like that, it makes you look gormless. Eat a cake or something.”

Somehow, Anwar made it back to his suite. He sent Arden Bierce a report through his wristcom, including word-by-word accounts of his interrogation of Richard Carne and his conversations with Olivia and Gaetano, and waited.

After ten minutes, about the time he estimated it would take her to digest his report, her call came.

His wristcom could project a small image on to the air a few inches in front of it, or a larger high-definition image on to a wall or other convenient flat surface. He chose the wall.

Normally, it would have been good to see her again. Her face was regular and open (unlike Olivia’s, with its sharp small features and changing expressions) and he knew it genuinely reflected what was inside her—including, this time, a look of preoccupation which closely echoed his own.

“Anwar, I...”

“Levin was assigned to find Marek, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. There was a possible lead, but it...”

“And when were you planning to tell me about Levin?”

“Until your call, I had no idea of any connection between his mission and yours.”

He let the silence grow between them.

“I’m sorry. But we don’t have his body. Maybe he’s not dead.”

“Annihilated, Carne said. Like Asika. Did you see Chulo’s body?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

She told him.