Market Forces by Richard K. Morgan

Author:Richard K. Morgan [Morgan, Richard K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, SciFi, CyberPunk, Economy
ISBN: 9780345457745
Publisher: Gollancz

File 3: Foreign Aid

Chapter Twenty-Five

Two weeks.

For Chris, marooned on the fringes of the preparations, it passed like a waking dream. He lived a distorted copy of his real life, tinged in equal portions by nightmarish tension and an odd, unlooked-for romantic nostalgia.

Work was as he’d expected. He acted normal and watched his back. Troop movements in Assam, hostage-taking in Parana, and in Cambodia a handful of executions no one had foreseen. He handled it all with eerie calm.

At home, he dared not talk openly to Carla so they took up a bizarre dual existence, life in the house as if nothing had changed, set against hushed exchanges snatched in the secure confines of the Saab. Carla, somehow, had persuaded Erik and Kirsti to act together as the link with the ombudsmen, and she went regularly to the Brundtland to gather details from her father. Some kind of code was in use over Erik’s netlink, a fake reconciliation underway between the parents to serve as cover for the information Chris and Carla agreed in their hasty conferences in the car.

And here came the nostalgia, the bittersweet taste of something almost used up. The moments grabbed in the Saab had the tang of illicit sexual encounters, and once or twice even ended that way. And the rest of the time, acting out normality for any possible listeners, they treated each other with an abnormal tenderness and consideration. In both aspects of their new existence, they were getting on better than they had in months.

It was weird.

Two weeks, and the ombudsman came.

He disliked Truls Vasvik on sight.

Partly, it was the Norwegian thing—the same irritating aura of easy outdoor competence that he’d noticed in most of Carla’s friends on the few occasions they’d been up to Tromso together. But more than that, it was the clothes. Here was a trained professional who, Carla claimed, earned at least the same as he did, and Chris could have bought the man’s entire outfit for less than he usually spent on a haircut. The grey wool of the jersey was stretched and pilled, the nondescript trousers were bagged in the knees and the walking boots had shaped themselves to Vasvik’s feet with constant use. The coat looked as if he’d slept in it. It only needed the carelessly-tied-back greying hair to complete the image of a teen antiglobalist who’d never grown up.

Which is exactly what he is.

“Thanks for coming,” he said guardedly.

Vasvik shrugged. “I should thank you. You are taking a far greater risk than I.”

“Really?” Chris tried to ignore the jolt Vasvik’s comment delivered to his stomach. The set-up had left him jangled and twitchy. A shrill part of him wondered if the ombudsman was trying to psych him out. “I would have thought we’d both be arrested pretty fucking rapidly.”

“Yes, we would. But your government would be forced to release me intact. That much power we still have. The police might work me over a little while they have me, but it’s unlikely to be worse than some other close encounters I’ve had.

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