Use of weapons by Iain M. Banks

Use of weapons by Iain M. Banks

Author:Iain M. Banks [Banks, Iain]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780316030571
Publisher: New York, NY : Orbit, 2008.
Published: 2011-01-21T23:00:00+00:00


He grimaced into the mirror, snorting back a mixture of blood and warm water. The black porcelain basin swirled with gently steaming suds, pink-flecked. He touched his nose with great delicacy and frowned into the mirror.

'I miss breakfast, lose a perfectly proficient driver and my best car, I break my nose yet again and get an old raincoat of immense sentimental value dirtier than it's ever been in its life before, and all you can say is "That's funny"?'

'Sorry, Cheradenine. I just mean, that's weird. I don't know why they'd do something like that. You are certain it was deliberate? Oof.'

'What was that?'

'Nothing. You are certain it wasn't just an accident?'

'Positive. I called for a spare car, and the police, then went back to where it happened. No diversion; all gone. But there were traces of industrial solvent where they'd removed the false red road markings from the top of the storm drain.'

'Ah. Ah; yeah...' Sma's voice sounded odd.

He took the transceiver bead off his ear lobe and looked hard at it. 'Sma...'

'Whoo. Yeah, well, as I said; if it was those two Governance bods, the police won't do anything. But I can't understand them behaving like that.'

He let the wash-bowl drain and dabbed tenderly at his nose with a fluffy hotel towel. He put the terminal earring back on his ear. 'Maybe they just object to the fact I'm using Vanguard money. Maybe they think I'm Mr Vanguard or something.' He waited for a reply. 'Sma? I said maybe they...'

'Ow. Yes. Sorry. Yes; I heard you. You might be right.'

'Anyway, there's more.'

'God. What?'

He picked up an ornately decorated plastic screen-card, which - against a background of what looked like a fairly wild party - slowly flashed a message on and off. 'An invitation. To me. I'll read it out: "Mr Staberinde; congratulations on your narrow escape. Do please come to a fancy-dress party this evening; a car will pick you up at rim-set. Costume provided." No address.' He put the card back behind the wash-bowl taps. 'According to the concierge that arrived at about the same time I called the police after my car went tobogganing.'

'Fancy dress party, eh?' Sma giggled. 'Better watch your ass, Zakalwe.' There was more giggling, not all of it Sma's.

'Sma,' he said frostily. 'If I've called at an awkward time...'

Sma cleared her throat, sounded suddenly business-like. 'Not at all. Sounds like it was the same lot. You going?'

'I think so, but not in their costume, whatever that turns out to be.'

'All right. We'll track you. Are you absolutely positive you don't want a knife missile or...'

'I don't want to get into that argument again, Diziet,' he said, dabbing his face dry and sniffing hard again, inspecting himself in the mirror. 'What I was thinking about was this; if these people did react like this just because of Vanguard, maybe we can persuade them there's an opportunity for them here.'

'What sort of opportunity?'

He went through to the bedroom, collapsed on the bed, staring up at the painted ceiling.



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