Natural History by Justina Robson

Author:Justina Robson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780553901184
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2004-12-27T16:00:00+00:00

15. THE STOLEN NOTE

Machen received Gritter’s garbled delivery of information calmly. He had just observed the Lonestar vanish from the traffic-control system, and simultaneously had lost contact with the sophisticated beacons installed in Zephyr Duquesne’s Abacand. Confirmations of their departure from local space were winging in from all over, festooning his monitors with colourful notes like a Labor Day parade.

Gritter sat on his perch and waited for Machen to open the stolen letter. The general didn’t feel much interest in the contents and he stared down at the blood-spattered thing for several seconds.

“Where is the envelope?”

“Lost, ennit?”

“Who was it for?”

“I dunno. Never saw it. Got this from me mate.”

Machen turned the page open with his finger. It was coded. “What use is this without the keys?”

“You’re bound to ’ave ’em, entcha?”

Machen slid the paper across his desk and put it facedown where the military AI could read it, and where a copy would wing its way to Anthony, who would be far quicker at discovering its authenticity than would any attempt at reasoning with Gritter.

“And Corvax is coming to Idlewild?”

“Straight up.”

“Why now?”

“Didn’t say, but he was real apologetic for all the trouble in the past.”

Machen nodded thoughtfully. “Get lost before I have you shot for interfering with the postal service,” he suggested, not glancing left or right.

“What about my money?”

“You’ll be paid when you bring me anything I couldn’t find out some other way,” Machen said, tired of repeating himself. “The Avian guard will be along in a moment. I suggest you move on.”

The Degraded eagle made a disparaging noise but glanced skywards and was gone in a flurry of blue and gold. Machen shut the window. The systems AI chimed in and announced, “This message was intended for the secret service, Agent 2177, stationed here in London. It’s from a contact within the Forged Independence Movement. Translation follows.”

Machen listened and before it was done he called Anthony.

“There’s more of them,” he said, ignoring the views of Anthony’s hologram rotating above his desk and looking underneath instead, massaging his collie dog Bob with his foot as he did in times of stress when anger threatened to make his collar pop. Bob snapped at his laces and they played a brief game of Chase the Squeaky Bone back and forth.

“Besides the Ticktock Hive, both the Gaiaforms have vanished,” Anthony said.

“We’ve got to find out who’s in on this and where all that technology has gone. I’ve a feeling that when Corvax arrives he’s going to know something. Get a squad out to the Belt and arrest him, so we can bring him in faster.”

“My thoughts exactly.” The Strategos cut the link.

Bob won the toy and spent a moment chewing it vigorously. Machen said a prayer to someone—he wasn’t sure to whom.

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