Perdido Street Station Part 36

You are betrayed.

Isaac gaped at the construct in complete consternation. It waved its litter-spike at him, the sc.r.a.p of paper on the end whipping back and forth.

The others had not yet read what was written on the floor, but they could tell from Isaac's face and the extraordinary behaviour of the construct that something strange was happening. They were standing, gazing curiously.

"What is it, Isaac?" said Derkhan.

"I . . . I don't know . . ." he murmured. The construct seemed agitated, by turn tapping at the message on the floor and flailing the paper on its spike. Isaac reached out, his mouth wide with amazement, and the construct held its arm still. Gingerly, Isaac plucked the crumpled paper from it.

As he smoothed it out, David leapt up suddenly, horrified and aghast. He rushed across the room.

"Isaac," he shouted. "Wait . . ." But Isaac had already opened the paper, his eyes had already widened in horror at what was written. His mouth grew slack at the enormity of it, but before he could emit a shout Vermishank moved.

Lemuel had been caught up with the bizarre drama of the construct, his eyes had left his quarry, and Vermishank had seen it. Everyone in the room was staring at Isaac as he fumbled with the rubbish the construct had handed him. Vermishank leapt up from the chair and bolted for the door.

He had forgotten it was locked. When he yanked at it and it would not open, he cried out in undignified panic. Behind him, David peeled away from Isaac and backed towards Vermishank and the door. Isaac spun on his heel towards them, still clutching the paper. He glared at David and Vermishank in lunatic hatred. Lemuel had seen his error, was bringing his pistol to bear on Vermishank when Isaac moved threateningly towards the prisoner, blocking Lemuel's line of fire.

"Isaac," shouted Lemuel, "move!"

Vermishank saw that Derkhan had leapt to her feet, that David was cringing away from Isaac, that the hooded man in the other corner was standing with legs spread and arms out in a weirdly predatory fas.h.i.+on. Lemuel was invisible to Vermishank, behind the looming threat of Isaac.

Isaac looked from Vermishank to David, his eyes oscillating back and forth. He waved the paper.

"Isaac," Lemuel screamed again. "Get out of the f.u.c.king way!"

But Isaac could not hear or speak for rage. There was a cacophony. Everyone in the room was yelling, demanding to know what was on the paper, begging for a clear shot, growling in rage or keening like a great bird.

Isaac seemed to be debating which of David or Vermishank to grab. David was breaking down, begging Isaac to listen to him. With a last desperate pointless tug at the door, Vermishank turned and defended himself.

He was, after all, a highly trained bio-thaumaturge. He babbled an incantation and flexed the invisible, occult muscles he had developed in his arms. He hooked his hand at the arcane energy that made the veins of his forearm stand out like snakes beneath the skin, made his skin twitch and tighten.

Isaac's s.h.i.+rt was half undone, and Vermishank plunged his right hand through the uncovered flesh below Isaac's neck.

Isaac bellowed in rage and pain as his tissue gave like thick clay. It became malleable under Vermishank's trained hands.

Vermishank dug inelegantly through the unwilling flesh. He gripped and ungripped his fingers to grab hold of a rib. Isaac grabbed hold of Vermishank's wrist and held it. His face was set in a grimace. He was stronger, but pain was disabling him.

Vermishank was wailing as they wrestled. "Let me go!" he screamed. He had had no plan, had struck out in fear of his life and found himself committed to a murderous attack. It could not be undone. He could do nothing but scrabble for purchase inside Isaac's chest.

Behind them, David fumbled for his key.

Isaac could not pull Vermishank's fingers from his chest, and Vermishank could not push them any further in. They stood, swaying, tugging at each other. Behind them the confusion of voices continued. Lemuel had stood, had kicked away his chair and was feinting to find a vantage point for a clean shot. Derkhan ran over and pulled violently at Vermishank's arms, but the terrified man curled his fingers around the bones of Isaac's chest, and with every pull Isaac screamed in pain. Blood was spurting from Isaac's skin, from the imperfect seals where Vermishank's fingers punctured his flesh.

Vermishank and Isaac and Derkhan wrestled and howled, spraying blood across the floor, fouling Sincerity, who bolted away. Lemuel reached over Isaac's shoulder to shoot, but Vermishank tugged Isaac around like some grotesque glove puppet, knocking the pistol out of Lemuel's hand. It hit the floor some feet away, scattering its black powder. Lemuel swore and dug urgently for a powder-case.

Suddenly a shrouded figure stood by the clumsy fighting trio. Yagharek threw back his hood. Vermishank stared into his hard round eyes, opened his mouth at the garuda's great predatory birdface. But before he could speak, Yagharek had plunged his vicious curved beak into the flesh of Vermishank's right arm.

He tore through the muscle and tendons with speed and vigour. Vermishank shrieked as his arm blossomed with ragged flesh and blood. He snapped his hand back, withdrawing it from Isaac's flesh, which resealed imperfectly with a wet snap. Isaac growled with agony and stroked his chest. It was slick with blood, the surface misshapen, pocked and still bleeding from Vermishank's hand.

Derkhan had her arms around Vermishank's neck. As Vermishank clutched the bleeding ruins of his forearm, she hurled him away from her into the centre of the room. The construct rolled out of Vermishank's way as he staggered and fell, fouling the boards with gore, screaming.

Lemuel had primed his pistol again. Vermishank caught sight of him aiming and opened his mouth to beg, to wail. He held his b.l.o.o.d.y arm up, trembling, supplicating.

Lemuel pulled the trigger. There was a cavernous cracking sound and an explosion of acrid gunpowder. Vermishank's cry stopped instantly. The ball hit him right between the eyes, a textbook shot from close enough range to pa.s.s through him and take the back of his head off in an efflorescence of dark blood.

He fell back, his broken skull smacking dully on the old boards.

The particles of gunpowder spun and tumbled slowly. Vermishank's carca.s.s shuddered.

Isaac leant back against the wall and swore. He pressed his chest, seemed to smooth it down. He fumbled at it in an ineffectual attempt to repair the cosmetic damage Vermishank's intrusive fingers had done.

He emitted livid barks of pain.

"G.o.dsd.a.m.n!" he spat, and eyed Vermishank's body with loathing.

Lemuel held his pistol idly. Derkhan was trembling. Yagharek had withdrawn, stood watching the proceedings, his features dim once more in the shadows of the hood.

No one spoke. The fact of Vermishank's murder filled the room. There was unease and shock, but no recrimination. No one wished him alive again.

"Yag, old son," croaked Isaac eventually. "I owe you." The garuda did not acknowledge him.

"We have to . . . we have to get this out of here," said Derkhan urgently, kicking Vermishank's corpse. "They'll be looking for him soon."

"That's the least of our worries," said Isaac. He held out his right hand. He still held the paper he had taken from the construct, now bloodstained. "David's gone," he observed, pointing at the unlocked door. He looked around. "He's taken Sincerity," he said, his face curling. He threw the paper to Derkhan. As she unfolded it, Isaac stomped over towards the skittering construct.

Derkhan read the note. Her face hardened in disgust and outrage. She held it up so that Lemuel could read it. After a moment, Yagharek stalked over and read it over Lemuel's shoulder, from inside his hood.

Serachin. Further to our meeting. Enclosed is payment and instructions. Der Grimnebulin and a.s.sociates will be brought to justice on Serachin. Further to our meeting. Enclosed is payment and instructions. Der Grimnebulin and a.s.sociates will be brought to justice on Chainday 8th Tathis Chainday 8th Tathis. The militia will apprehend him at his residence at 9 o'clock in the evening 9 o'clock in the evening. You are to ensure that der Grimnebulin and all working with him are present from 6 o'clock onwards 6 o'clock onwards. You will be present during the raid, to avoid suspicion falling upon you. Our agents have seen heliotypes of you, in addition to which you are to wear red red. Our officers will do everything possible to avoid casualties, but this cannot be guaranteed, and your clear self-identification is crucial. Sally. Sally.

Lemuel blinked, looked up.

"It's today," he said, and blinked again. "Chainday's today. They're coming."

CHAPTER T THIRTY-THREE.

Isaac ignored Lemuel. He was standing directly in front of the construct, which moved almost uneasily before his intense gaze.

"How did you know, Isaac?" shouted Derkhan, and Isaac raised his finger and jerked it at the construct.

"I was tipped off. David betrayed us," he whispered. "My mate. Been on a hundred d.a.m.n benders with him, done drinking, done riots . . . the f.u.c.k sold me out. And I got tipped off tipped off by a d.a.m.n construct." He poked his face right into the construct's lens. "You understand me?" he whispered incredulously. "You with me? You . . . wait, you've got audio inputs, haven't you? Turn around . . . turn if you understand me . . ." by a d.a.m.n construct." He poked his face right into the construct's lens. "You understand me?" he whispered incredulously. "You with me? You . . . wait, you've got audio inputs, haven't you? Turn around . . . turn if you understand me . . ."

Lemuel and Derkhan glanced at each other.

"Isaac, mate," said Lemuel witheringly, but his words petered out into astonished silence.

Slowly, deliberately, the construct was turning around.

"What the f.u.c.k is it doing?" hissed Derkhan.

Isaac turned to her.

"I've no idea," he hissed. "I've heard of this, but I didn't know it could actually happen. It's had some virus, hasn't it? CI . . . Constructed Intelligence . . . I can't believe it's real . . ."

He turned back and gazed at the construct. Derkhan and Lemuel approached it, as, after a moment's hesitation, did Yagharek.

"It's impossible," said Isaac suddenly. "It doesn't have an intricate enough engine for independent thought. It is impossible impossible."

The construct lowered its pointer and backed away to a nearby pile of dust. It dragged its spike through it, and spelt out clearly: It is It is.

At the sight, the three humans hissed and gasped.

"What the f.u.c.k f.u.c.k . . . ?" yelled Isaac. "You can . . . ?" yelled Isaac. "You can read read and and write write . . . you . . ." He shook his head, then looked up at the construct, hard and cold again in a moment. "How did you know?" he said. "And why did you warn me?" . . . you . . ." He shook his head, then looked up at the construct, hard and cold again in a moment. "How did you know?" he said. "And why did you warn me?"

It was quickly clear, however, that this was an explanation that would have to wait. As Isaac waited intently, Lemuel glanced up at the clock and started nervously. It was late.

It took a minute, but Lemuel and Derkhan convinced Isaac that they had better flee the workshop now with the construct. They had better act on the information they had been given, even if they didn't understand where it had come from.

Isaac protested weakly, tugging at the construct. He denounced David to h.e.l.l, then marvelled at the construct's intelligence. He screamed rage and cast an a.n.a.lytical eye on the transformed cleaning engine. He was confused. Derkhan's and Lemuel's urgent insistence that they must move infected him.

"Yes, David is a G.o.dsd.a.m.n s.h.i.+t. And yes, the construct is a G.o.dsd.a.m.n miracle, Isaac," hissed Derkhan, "but it's going to be a wasted one if we don't leave now leave now."

And in an infuriating, tantalizing end to the matter, the construct spread the dust out again as Isaac watched, and carefully scrawled: Later Later.

Lemuel thought quickly.

"There's a place I know up in Gidd where we can go," he decided. "It'll do for tonight, and then we can make plans." Derkhan and he moved quickly around the room, gathering useful items into bags they pilfered from David's cupboards. It was clear they would not be able to return.

Isaac stood numb by the wall. His mouth was slightly open. His eyes were glazed. He shook his head incredulously.

Lemuel glanced up and saw him.

"Isaac," he yelled. "Go and sort your s.h.i.+t out. We've less than an hour. We are leaving. Get off your a.r.s.e."

Isaac looked up, nodded peremptorily and stomped up the stairs, to stop and stand still again at the top. His expression was of bemused and miserable disbelief.

After some seconds, Yagharek came silently after him. He stood behind Isaac and peeled back his hood.

"Grimnebulin," he whispered as softly as his avian throat allowed. "You are thinking of your friend David."

Isaac turned sharply.

"No f.u.c.king friend of mine," he countered.

"And yet he was. You are thinking of the betrayal."

Isaac said nothing for several moments. Then he nodded. The look of horrified astonishment returned.

"I know betrayal, Grimnebulin," whistled Yagharek. "I know it well. I am . . . sorry for you."

Isaac turned away and walked brusquely to his laboratory s.p.a.ce, began shoving bits and pieces of wire and ceramic and gla.s.s seemingly at random into a huge carpet bag. He strapped it, bulky and clanking, to his back.

"When were you betrayed, Yag?" he demanded.

"I was not. I betrayed." Isaac stopped and turned to him. "I know what David has done. And I am sorry."

Isaac stared in bewilderment, in denial and misery.

The militia attacked. It was only twenty minutes past seven.

The door flew open with a ma.s.sive sound. Three militia officers came hurtling through into the room, their battering ram flying out of their hands.

The door was still unlocked from when David had fled. The militia had not expected this, and had tried to break down a door which did not resist them. They fell, sprawling and idiotic.

There was a confused moment. The three militia scrabbled to stand. Outside, the squad of officers gaped stupidly into the building. On the ground floor, Derkhan and Lemuel stared back at them. Isaac looked down at the intruders.

Then everyone moved.

The militia outside in the street recovered their wits and rushed the door. Lemuel flipped David's huge desk onto its side and hunkered down behind the makes.h.i.+ft s.h.i.+eld, priming his two long pistols. Derkhan ran towards him, diving for cover. Yagharek hissed and stepped backwards from the rail of the walkway, out of sight of the militia.