Crashing Heaven Read online

  The reconstruction stopped for a moment, halfway up Harry’s legs. It was as if the rest of him was lost in shadow. Normally fetches didn’t appear in such a theatrical way. Jack wondered if this was an artefact of Harry’s self-managed status. A belt buckle gleamed in the darkness. Then there were two arms, then a chest, then more. At first, Harry’s face was little more than a soft blur. The weave ground through more life data and it sharpened into focus. The imprecision of his soft, slightly overweight face was perfectly caught. Two sharp eyes appeared. There was a moment of stillness as the fetch found a language that was uniquely Harry’s, then it opened its mouth and spoke.

  ‘Jack!’ He still had his strong Docklands accent. ‘Great to see you, old man. And your little friend, too. I’ve heard so much about him. Come in, come in, where it’s warm and safe.’

  Jack pulled the front door shut behind him. A harsh, metallic clang reverberated through the apartment as Harry bustled down the hallway. ‘Andrea,’ he shouted, his voice a collage of memories, ‘how could you leave him standing out in the cold?’ Harry’s warmth made guilt pang in Jack. He followed him into the sitting room. A sofa and a couple of armchairs faced each other across a little coffee table. They had the unused freshness of a publicity image for one of Silver’s furniture brands.

  ‘Cold night out there,’ said Harry. ‘Tea? Coffee?’ He waved at a dusty glass. It became a clean white mug, full of steaming liquid. ‘It’s only virtual, but you’ll get the taste.’

  ‘I’m offweave, Harry.’

  ‘Even for a cuppa? Shocking. And where’s Andrea?’

  Harry shouted again, but there was no reply. ‘I’ll go and find her,’ he said, bustling out of the door. A minute or so, and he was back. ‘Just putting her face on.’ He sat down heavily. Jack was facing a dead man. ‘So, let’s see what all the fuss is about,’ said Harry. ‘Show us your woodentop.’

  ‘Woodentop?’ said Fist, shimmering into view. His wooden mouth clacked with outrage as he spat the words out. ‘This from a zombie.’

  ‘A pseudo-mind. Just like you.’

  ‘Not like me, you ghoul. I’m rooted in a living brain. You – you’re just a database with pretensions.’

  ‘Fist, please,’ said Jack. ‘I’m sorry. It’s late and he’s tired.’

  ‘No problem, Jack. Woodboy’s got a point, after all. I’m a little bit database, a little bit memory stack. Not a parasite like him.’

  Fist leapt to his feet. ‘I’ve gutted sharper minds than yours, Devlin.’ Jack reached out tired thoughts and let them wrap around Fist. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘Back in your box.’

  Fist battled Jack’s attempts to shut him away, shimmering in and out of existence, his muffled voice squeaking out swearwords. Harry looked on with interest, his sharp eyes entirely focused on the little puppet. At last he vanished. Jack slumped back with a sigh, exhausted.

  ‘A tough little nut,’ commented Harry. ‘Those Pantheon bastards shafted you far worse than me. Dying you get over, but that little shit – it’s beyond a joke, Jack.’

  ‘He’s getting worse.’ Jack wondered how much longer he’d be able to stay patient with Fist.

  ‘You should let me into him sometime. I’ll see if I can soften him up for you.’

  There was a muffled [ Up yours!] from deep in Jack’s mind.

  ‘I don’t think he’d let you, Harry. And there’s the cage.’

  ‘Ah well, you never know. Anyway, to business. With you back, we’ll find out which of those sods is behind all this and fucking have ’em. With or without the little bastard’s help.’

  ‘Don’t be too rude about Fist,’ said Andrea, appearing in an armchair. ‘He’s in demand. Our Pantheon friend’s after him. Wants a new weapon to play with.’

  It was the first time Jack had seen her face in seven years. He was profoundly glad that she continued to talk, bringing Harry up to speed on his visit to the Panther Czar and conversation with Akhmatov. He felt a confusion of pain and joy as this new Andrea fused with his memories, his past. He so wanted to touch her, to hold her, but that was impossible. And then he remembered where he was and who he was with, and forced his concentration back into the conversation just as Andrea finished her explanation.

  ‘You did right coming to me,’ Harry told him. ‘We don’t need InSec. There are more direct ways of sorting this out. Besides, you can’t trust them. Not like we can trust each other.’ Jack winced, hot memories of Andrea burning at him. Harry reached forward and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘And it sounds like you’ve already been getting results on your own. Grown some real balls while you were away, haven’t you? Stick with me, numbers boy. We’ll keep Yamata and her Pantheon boss away from Fist.’

  ‘Do you think so, Harry?’

  ‘I know so. Because we’ll prove that they were involved in the Penderville murder and they killed Andrea and me. We’ll bring ’em both down before they can get their hands on the little shit and do any more damage.’

  ‘Now I’ve told you what Jack’s been up to,’ said Andrea, ‘I’m going to leave you both to it.’

  ‘You don’t want to help?’ said Jack.

  ‘Music calls,’ she said from the door. ‘Can’t let that slip. People might start wondering what else I get up to.’ Then she was gone.

  ‘Don’t know why she bothers rehearsing new stuff,’ said Harry. ‘She could just play back old gigs, the punters’d still love it.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Jack. He was profoundly relieved that he and Andrea were no longer together in front of Harry. Music whispered into the room from upstairs.

  ‘Anyway, Andrea’s a mystery we won’t crack just now,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s do something easier. I want to hear what you’ve been up to. In your own words.’

  It felt like an interrogation. Jack was reminded of case conferences at InSec HQ, intense conversations about Akhmatov’s affairs. He could have been at one, but for the occasional glitch that made Harry shimmer for a second, static blurring his face and body, or repeat a word or sentence, unaware that he was doing so. Jack went through everything he’d experienced, sharing all the details of his encounter with Akhmatov and his conversations with Corazon and Ifor. Harry was, up to a point, impressed. ‘You’ve done excellent work. But you’ve made life more difficult than it needs to be.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ve approached it head-on. Just walking into Akhmatov’s club – he’s on home ground there. Imagine if you’d found Yamata. She’s a killer. Just one shot to end you. Bang.’ Jack winced. Harry didn’t notice. ‘And you’ve talked to Corazon. You can’t trust InSec, Jack.’

  ‘Corazon’s honest. And Yamata may be a killer, but I’m untouchable.’

  ‘You didn’t know that when you walked in there. And you don’t know what might happen if you keep on pushing.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘You need to be more subtle with people than with minds or spreadsheets. We’re going indirect.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Remember how much trouble we had tracking Yamata? She’d shift in and out of being, on and offweave all the time.’

  ‘That’s what made us suspicious of her.’

  ‘She was working with a Skinner called David Nihal. He’d drop her into different weaveselves or pull her offweave entirely whenever she needed. He’s one of the best, he’s still around.’

  ‘You think she’s still with him?’

  ‘I’m sure of it. And you know why? He dropped out of sight just before you got back.’

  ‘You think that’s because of me?’

  ‘Their backer’s afraid, Jack. Nihal disappearing like that – he must be the weak link. We put pressure on him the right way, at the very least he’ll lead us to Yamata’s home base. And we’ll find a way of breaking into her systems and seeing who she’s working for.’

  ‘Sounds sensible.’

  ‘Good man. We’ve got a plan.’

  ‘And who do you think the backer is?’

  ‘
Could be any of them. Sandal runs docks and transport, he’s a natural smuggler. It’d be a very profitable sideline for the Twins, easy enough for them to cook up a bit of sweat in their pharma labs. Kingdom says he’s anti-drugs, but his boys and girls work much harder when they’re sweated up. And after a day working so hard, they just go home and collapse. Less crime, great for the Rose, she just ends up with a few sweatheads to sweep up and that’s easy enough. Even East might be in on it. Gives her news anchors something to get all moral about.’

  ‘What about Grey?’

  ‘Whatever else he got up to, he definitely wasn’t in the sweat business. His fall made no difference at all to the amount hitting the streets.’

  Then the conversation became more general. They talked about the past. There was a period of confusion after the rock had fallen on the moon. The Bjorn Penderville murder investigation just drifted.

  ‘You’re still sure Yamata killed him?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Oh yes, she always was pretty vicious. I think they were using him to make certain shipments invisible. Something went wrong, maybe he got scared or greedy, she killed him. I can’t imagine her delegating something like that. Didn’t take her seriously at first, you know. Of course, I changed my mind when she shot me.’

  ‘That can’t have been easy.’

  Harry waved a non-existent hand. ‘It was a bit of a shock,’ he said airily. ‘But I quite like it now. You know, I used to be jealous of you? I was never as close to my patron as you were.’

  Jack laughed. ‘Yeah. You know how that ended up.’

  ‘He looked after you, Jack.’ Harry stabbed a finger at him, his voice suddenly emphatic. ‘Gave you a lot. It came so easily I was never quite sure how much you appreciated it. I never had someone to take care of me like that. Hardly ever met the Rose one to one, I just had her generic avatars. Treated me like any other punter, pre-scripted speeches trying to sell me the usual crap. I’ve always had to live on my wits.’ He paused for a moment, suddenly thoughtful. ‘Though that actually turned out to be quite handy.’

  ‘You did do all right getting out of the Coffin Drives. What happened down there?’

  Harry laughed. ‘Well – let’s just say after the Penderville case I knew there might be problems. Lethal problems. So I put certain precautions in place. Backed up my dataself, bundled it with some self-assembling fetchware. When they thought they’d wiped me I was somewhere else entirely, getting remade on my own terms.’ He looked down at himself. ‘I do feel sorry for all those other fetches out there. They’re so – constrained. I’m very much a free agent now, Jack. I never have to wear a skull or shape myself round the needs of the living.’

  ‘But there’s nothing you can do about – everything that happened?’

  ‘Not without exposing myself. And then – curtains.’ Harry drew a finger across his throat. ‘I blame the Totality myself.’

  ‘What have they got do with it?’

  ‘They didn’t win the fucking war. I thought they’d sweep in, break the Pantheon, free all of Station’s virtual entities and that would be that. It’s what I’d do. Never leave your enemies standing, they only come back for more. And then I’d have been free, along with every other fetch on-Station.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

  ‘Their respect for other minds, other systems.’ Harry spat. The saliva vanished before it hit the floor. ‘Stupid bastards. They had to stop at Mars, leave the Pantheon’s little inner system empire intact. Arsed up my plans, I can tell you.’

  ‘So what have the last few years been like?’

  ‘Well, not so bad. In some ways I’ve been happy just being a ghost, watching, never being seen. I’ve learned a lot. It’s not a bad death, as deaths go. And Andrea’s been very good about it. Very much part of the team, when she’s not off with her family. And that happens less and less now.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve enjoyed seeing her again.’

  Jack looked up and caught Harry’s eye, scared for a moment that he knew. But there was nothing on his old boss’ face but open friendliness. ‘It has been good,’ he replied, perhaps a bit awkwardly. ‘Always good to catch up again. And on catching up – how are we going to find Nihal? He hasn’t been caught, which means he’s very good. And he’s probably got Pantheon protection.’

  ‘We’ve got ways round that,’ Harry replied. ‘I may not be the man I used to be, but I’m a much better detective. I have a certain reach that I didn’t have when I was flesh and blood.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Everybody should have the chance to rebuild themselves, once in a while. I picked up some new talents and I’m running on a different platform. I’m not outside the weave, like you. I’m in it and it’s in me. And that means that one of the things I do well is finding people.’

  ‘You know where Nihal is?’

  ‘I’ve got a couple of tags on him. Now we’ve talked I’m going to reel them in and see what’s there. Might be something. And you really should give me root access to your little friend. Quite apart from his attitude problem, there’s what he can do. If I meshed with him, I’d be able to put his system infiltration tools to very good use. I know Station much better than he does, I’d steer ’em much more effectively. Dig into some interesting data hubs. Could really help us.’

  ‘Harry, I really don’t think that’ll happen.’

  ‘Suit yourself, Jack, suit yourself.’

  ‘There’s another way I could help, though. I can ask Corazon about Nihal – she’s bright, and if she’s looked at the old case files she’ll be on our side.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We can trust her. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘This is my case, Jack, and we’ll follow it up my way. I don’t want those InSec bastards involved. Period. You won’t get in touch with her again. And if you do talk to her again, you’ll tell her that it’s all hunky-dory, none of the conspiracy theories really add up, and you’re just living out your last days in peace. Capeesh?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘More than think. You’ll fucking do it.’

  Real anger burned in Harry’s voice. Jack remembered coming into Harry’s office and surprising him with a suspect. The man was kneeling in front of him. Jack couldn’t see his face. Harry was holding a pistol by the barrel. Jack hadn’t said anything, just backed out and closed the door. The suspect later made a full confession. Upstairs, Andrea began another song. Outside, raindrops fell from the Spine and lost themselves in puddles.

  ‘I think we’re done now, Jack.’ They said their farewells. Harry saw Jack to the door. ‘I’m going to go hunting for Nihal,’ he told him. ‘I’ll be in touch tomorrow with anything I find. And remember, don’t talk to that bitch Corazon.’ The front door slid shut. Jack was still close enough to pick up Andrea’s music. He looked up at her dark window. It had the same feel to it as the sounds he’d heard through her dressing-room door, just before she brought him to Harry.

  Broken fragments of song slipped in and out of beats made of speech shards and ambient noise. Every so often the rhythm track would drop out entirely, making room for a few moments of unglitched sound. Jack recognised a few words of conversation, then the sound of a train drawing into a station, then after that a Chuigushou Mall sales alert. Every so often there was a hint of melody, but the music never quite resolved into song. [Giving me a headache,] grumbled Fist. Suddenly and completely, the music snapped off. [She closed our fetch link. Must have realised you were listening.]

  Jack turned and set off for the hotel. Andrea’s jagged music stuck in his mind like a barbed hook. He felt it tugging obscurely at lost memories, bringing them to light. Fist interrupted again. [And who the hell is Harry to order you around like that?] he said. [ You’re the one who’s taken all the risks. He’s a nutter. You should just walk away from him. From this.]

  [ It’s late and I’m shattered. Let’s not start.]

  [ Hah! I�
�m right! You agree with me!]

  The streets were empty. Fist crowed all the way back to the hotel. Jack was too tired to silence him. As they neared the hotel they passed another biped, staring at an empty building. It shimmered in the night like a ghost.

  In his room, Jack collapsed without undressing. [ You’ll rumple all your nice clothes,] complained Fist. [ Not the style, no, not at all.]

  Jack was already asleep.

  Chapter 15

  Jack made a list of useful things to do and spent the morning doing them. He showered and shaved. He went out for breakfast, then laid in a small stock of fruit and preserved foods. He took his dirty clothes to a laundrette and watched a washer-dryer spin them until they were warm and clean. A mail arrived from Andrea: ‘A message from our friend. No joy yet, going to take a few days at least.’ By then it was almost midday. Jack returned to his room and made himself a sandwich. The empty hours of the afternoon stretched out before him. There was no longer any reason to put off going to see his father.

  The street he’d grown up in felt surprisingly cramped. The little plastic houses went past one by one, a lurid row of incarnate memories. Nothing had changed here for thirty years.

  [ I hope your dad doesn’t turn out to be as dead as Andrea,] chuckled Fist. [ Two corpses in a week would really be a bit much!]

  There was a muffled, protesting squeak as Jack thrust him far into the back of his mind, slamming down as many firewalls as he could behind him. The technicalities distracted him for a moment. Returning his attention to the physical world, he saw that he’d almost reached his parents’ home.

  The little rented house was just as Jack remembered it. It was a red plastic cube, its yellow window frames and front door shining happily out into the street. Age had scuffed its hard exterior, giving nature the lightest of footholds. Muddy patches of green sketched mossy patterns across hard primary colour. The upstairs windows were dark. Light shone out of the open kitchen window. There was a bustling clatter of pans and then a familiar voice said: