The Unnatural Inquirer Part 6

"You've been here before," said Bettie, her voice hushed for once by the sheer presence of the place.

"I've been everywhere before," I said. "Mind you, I've also been thrown out of practically everywhere, at one time or another."

"I've never seen anything like this..."

"Don't let it get to you. For all the Club's opulence, you couldn't spit in the dining-room without being sure of hitting at least one complete sc.u.mbag."

She giggled suddenly and put one hand to her mouth. The footman came to a halt before me and bowed politely. Since I was in the Club, I obviously belonged there. His was not to question why, no matter how much he might want to. He'd bowed to worse, in his time. He managed to imply all this without actually saying a word. It was a remarkable performance. I felt like applauding.

"Walker," I said.

"In the main dining-room, sir. Dining, with guests. Should I announce you, sir?"

"And spoil the surprise?" I said. "Heaven forfend. You run along. We can look after ourselves."

The footman backed away at speed, not even waiting for a tip. Which was just as well, really. I headed casually for the main dining area, with Bettie tagging along at my side like an over-excited puppy. No-one challenged us. It's all about att.i.tude. You can get away with murder if you look like you belong.

I pushed open the dining-room door, stepped inside, then stopped right there, pus.h.i.+ng Bettie slightly to one side so that we were concealed from the crowded room by a fortuitously placed potted aspidistra. I hushed her before she could say anything and peered between the leaves. All the tables were full, mostly occupied by large st.u.r.dy types in formal suits, eating basic stodgy food because it reminded them of the good old days of school dinners. None of them looked at each other. They were there for peace and quiet, not to socialise.

Walker had to be the exception, of course. He was currently holding court with some of the more august personages jockeying for position to take the place of the recently deceased Authorities. They sat stiffly in stiff-backed chairs, nursing expensive liqueurs and oversized cigars and talking loudly to show they didn't give a d.a.m.n who overheard them. They smiled and nodded and were polite enough, and you'd never know they were deadly rivals who'd happily slaughter each other at the first sign of weakness. This was politics, after all, and there were rules of etiquette to follow. Yesterday's enemy might be tomorrow's friend, or at least ally.

"Hush," I said quietly to Bettie. "Watch and listen. You might learn something interesting. You know who those people are, with Walker?"

"Of course," she said, putting her mouth so close to my ear I could feel her breath on the side of my face. "Walker's the smart city gent. The older gentleman to his left in the military uniform is General Condor. The revolting specimen to Walker's right is Uptown Taffy Lewis. And the woman sitting opposite Walker is Queen Helena, ex-Monarch of the Ice Kingdoms."

"Very good," I said. "Now let's see if you read anything more than the gossip columns. What can you tell me about Walker's guests?"

Bettie smiled, glad of a chance to show off her reporter's expertise. "General Condor comes from a future time-line. Arrived here through a Timeslip and got stranded in the Nightside when it closed. Word is he used to be in charge of some kind of s.p.a.ce Fleet, star-s.h.i.+ps and the like, keeping the peace in some future Empire or Federation. He was leading the troops into battle against some kind of Rebellion, when his flags.h.i.+p came under fire and was blown apart. He only escaped at the last moment in a life-boat." She laughed briefly. "He doesn't approve of us. A very upright and moral man, is our General. Since he arrived here he'd made it his business to first support, and then lead, all the right causes. He wants to reform us and save our souls, the poor fool. The Unnatural Inquirer's been trying to dig up some dirt on him for ages, but unfortunately it seems he really is as worthy and boring as he claims."

I nodded, looking the General over. Condor was a tall, straight-backed military type, in a surprisingly old-fas.h.i.+oned bottle-green uniform, complete with peaked cap. Even sitting down, he looked like he was still at attention. His face was deeply lined, scarred here and there, but his blue eyes were cold and piercing under bushy white eyebrows. He had to be in late middle age, but there didn't look to be an ounce of give in him.

I'd run into him a few times, here and there. He didn't approve of me, or people like me, but then it would be hard to find anyone or anything he did approve of in the Nightside. Our free trade in vice and depravity and d.a.m.nation appalled him. A good man, perhaps, and no doubt brave enough standing on the p.o.o.p-deck of his star-s.h.i.+p, facing terrible odds; but his stark black-and-white philosophy had no place in the Nightside. On the one hand, he was desperate to return to his own time and his own people, and take up the battle again, but on the other he was realistic enough to know he might never get back. And so he had decided to take on the Nightside, as a challenge. As an evil to be overcome. He now led, or at least represented, all those various interests inside the Nightside who wanted to clean the place up, for their own philosophical, financial, or political reasons.

General Condor liked to talk about redemption, and potential, and all the things we might achieve, if only we could control our darker urges and learn to work together. He couldn't seem to understand that people only came here to indulge their darker urges. He was a good man, in the wrong place. And the Nightside does so love to break a hero.

"How about the slug in the ill-fitting dress jacket?" I said.

"Easy. Everyone knows Uptown Taffy Lewis," said Bettie. She made brief retching noises. "He owns most of the prime real estate in the Nightside, now the Griffin is finally dead and gone. He has enormous economic leverage and isn't shy about using it to get his own way. Word is he can't get any richer, so now he wants power. He maintains his own private army of bully-boys, enforcers, and leg-breakers, and anyone who speaks out against Taffy tends to find out why terribly quickly. He wants to be the new Griffin, the new king of the castle, and have us all bow down to him. He has pretensions to style and elegance and gentility, but wouldn't recognise them if he fell over them in the gutter. The man was born a cheap thug, and he'll never change. The Inquirer's run any number of exposes on him and said all kinds of nasty things, but he's rich enough that he doesn't care. Hateful man. They say he ate his brother."

"Completely accurate," I said.

Uptown Taffy Lewis was a large man, in all the wrong ways. The expertly cut suit couldn't conceal his many rolls of fat, any more than his current polite expression could hide his cold piggy eyes or cruel mouth. Taffy didn't just want to be big man at the trough, he wanted to keep everyone else out, simply because he could. Own it all, control it all, and have the power to destroy it all. And then use that power to make everyone else beg for the sc.r.a.ps from his table. Probably had a really small p.e.n.i.s. Uptown Taffy Lewis wanted the Nightside because it was there.

He'd tried to have me killed on several occasions. I didn't take it personally. For Taffy, it was always just business.

"And ex-Queen Helena?" I said to Bettie.

"Nasty piece of work, by all accounts." Bettie curled her perfect upper lip. "Powerful, talented, and dangerous in all sorts of unpleasant ways, though it's hard to say whether her power derives from science or sorcery. She can kill with a look or a touch, and they say she can enslave a man by whispering his name. The official word is that she arrived here via a Timeslip from some far future time-line, where the sun is going out and the ice covers everything. A cold woman from a cold world. But you can take that with as many grains of salt as you like; people who turn up through Timeslips tell all sorts of tales, and there's rarely any way of checking. She claims to have been the Queen of the whole world, and she has the way of royalty about her, but...Odd that a Queen should be travelling alone, don't you think? Anyway, she's certainly single-minded enough about becoming royalty again, either back in her own time or right here in the Nightside. She has a lot of followers here; people who like to think they know a real monarch when they see one. She's been selling t.i.tles to anyone who can raise the money."

I nodded. I knew the type. (Ex-)Queen Helena was a disturbing sight. Tall, regal, haughty, and more impressive than G.o.d, she sat on her chair as though it was a throne fas.h.i.+oned from the bones of her enemies. She wore thick white furs, a diamond tiara, and her long flat hair was so blonde as to be practically colourless. Her deathly pale skin was tinged with blue, and her face and bare arms were covered with intricate patterns of painted-on circuitry. There were subtle bulges here and there under her skin, suggesting concealed high-tech implants. They raised and lowered themselves, apparently according to her moods.

"Well done, Bettie," I said. "Very accurate descriptions, nicely succinct and more than usually informed. There are investigative journalists on the Night Times who wouldn't have been able to tell me that much. You're not just a pretty face, are you?"

She smiled easily. "I was wondering how long the wide-eyed act would fool you. You don't get to be one of the Unnatural Inquirer's top reporters by batting your eyes and simpering at people. Though you'd be surprised how far that can get you, even with important people. Men are such simple, basic creatures, bless them. For the others, it's amazing how many weak spots and vulnerabilities good research can turn up. I smile, I watch, I listen, I draw conclusions, and I write it all up afterwards. You weren't fooled by the act for one minute, were you?"

"It's a good act," I said, generously. "Now hush and observe Walker at work. See how he influences and manipulates people, without them even realising."

"Things have got to change," General Condor was saying heavily. He leaned forward across the table to glare at Walker, who seemed entirely unperturbed. The General's voice was slow and deliberate, used to giving orders and having them obeyed. He had the air of a man people would follow: bluff, experienced, sure, and certain. A man who knew what he was doing. He jabbed a heavy finger in Walker's face. "The Nightside can't continue as it has-a haven for all human depravity and weakness. It'll tear itself apart with the Griffin and the Authorities gone. The signs are clear for everyone to see, first the angel war, and then the Lilith War...Left to its own devices, the Nightside will inevitably tear itself apart."

"There have always been wars, and destruction, and changes at the top," Walker said calmly. "But the Nightside goes on. It has survived for thousands of years, and I see no reason why it shouldn't continue as it is for thousands more. The world has always had a taste for freak shows."

General Condor scowled. "That might have been true while the Authorities were running things and supporting the Nightside in the same way a farmer looks after the goose that lays golden eggs; but they're gone now. Along with their blinkered preoccupation with trade and profit. It's time for someone to take the longer view and make the Nightside into something better."

"Nothing wrong with making money," Uptown Taffy Lewis said immediately. His voice was soft and breathy, his great chest and belly rising and falling as though every breath cost him something. "The Nightside exists to provide people with the pleasures and pursuits they can't get anywhere else. The things civilised people aren't supposed to want, but do anyway. And they'll pay through the nose for it, every time. Keep your rigid morality to yourself, General. We don't need simpleminded do-gooders coming in from outside and meddling with a system that's worked fine for thousands of years."

"The man has a point, General," said Walker. "It's hard to argue with success."

"All the things I've seen here," said the General, "the marvels and wonders, the amazing achievements, the incredible possibilities...If you would only work together instead of cutting each other's throats over a penny's profits, the things you could do...The Nightside could become the pinnacle of human civilisation! Instead of the moral cesspit it is now. You could all be G.o.ds if you'd only throw off the chains that hold you back!"

"Not everyone wants to be a G.o.d," said Walker. "In fact, I'd say we already have far too many. I've been thinking about ordering a cull...Too many Chiefs only confuse the Indians. Wouldn't you agree, Helena?"

"You may address me as Queen Helena, or Your Majesty," she said immediately, her voice suitably chilly. The other two looked at her sharply. You didn't talk that way to Walker if you liked breathing, and having your bones stay where they were. But he nodded thoughtfully to Queen Helena, and she continued.

"People must know their place. For many, it is their nature to be ruled. To have someone ready to make the important decisions for them. I am not a lone voice in this. I speak for others such as I in the Nightside."

"The Exiles," said Walker. "All the other kings and queens and emperors who wound up here, via Timeslips or other unfortunate accidents. So many that there seems to be something of a glut of rulers on the market, at the moment."

"People of power and prestige," Queen Helena said firmly. "People who do not care for the way things are. The Nightside needs to be taken in hand and ruled by people suited to the task."

"Would you agree with that, Taffy?" said Walker.

"No-one tells me what to do," said Uptown Taffy Lewis. He almost sounded amused. "No-one rules the Nightside. Never has, never will. We make our own way. This is the last truly free place left on Earth, where everything and anything is possible. Even the Authorities knew enough to keep their distance. Right, Walker? I represent people, too. I speak for the businesspeople of the Nightside, and we will not stand by and see our rights trampled on." He glared at Helena, and then at General Condor. "You don't belong here, either of you. We like the Nightside just the way it is; and neither of you have the support or the power to change anything that matters. I own most of the land the Nightside stands on; my a.s.sociates own most of the rest. We can bankrupt anyone who doesn't back us up. And we can raise armies, if necessary, to defend what is ours."

"I have led armies," said General Condor. "There's more to it than giving orders."

"I have led armies, too," said Queen Helena. Something in her voice made the others look at her. She smiled coldly. "I did not come here by accident. No arbitrary Timeslip brought me here; I can go home anytime I want. To the ancient and melancholy Ice Kingdoms, where my armies wait for me. It has been a long time since the Armies of the Evening have had a cause worth fighting for. Because we killed everyone else who stood against us, in the long twilight of Earth. I have no wish to be Queen of an empty world. Not when I can bring my armies here and make the Nightside my own."

General Condor and Uptown Taffy Lewis looked at her, then at each other, and finally at Walker, who smiled easily.

"Why risk your armies, and your life, to secure a city, when you already have a world of your own?"

Queen Helena smiled back at him coldly, her blue-tinged lips drawing back to reveal perfect sharp teeth. "I like it here. It's warm."

"Ice melts when the going gets hot," said Taffy.

"You dare?" Queen Helena stood up, glaring down at them all. Strange metallic shapes surfaced in the blue-white flesh of her arms. Silver-grey barrels targeted Taffy and the General.

"That's enough!" Walker didn't stand up. He didn't need to. He was using the Voice. "Put your weapons away, Helena."

The Queen of the Evening shook and shuddered, her lips drawing back in a frustrated grimace, as she fought the Voice and failed. The implanted technology sank back into her arms, bluish skin closing seamlessly over it. She snarled furiously at Walker, a fierce, animal sound, then she turned abruptly and stalked away. Servants hurried to get out of her way. General Condor and Uptown Taffy Lewis rose to their feet, bowed stiffly to Walker, and then they left, too, careful to maintain a respectful distance between them. Perhaps they were worried Walker would use the Voice on them. He watched them go thoughtfully, and then turned unhurriedly in his chair and looked right at me.

"I'll see you now, Taylor."

I nodded and smiled, and moved unhurriedly forward to join him at his table. Bettie stuck close to my side.

"How did he know we were there?" she whispered.

"He's Walker," I said.

Bettie and I sat down in the newly vacated seats, facing Walker. He looked perfectly calm and at ease in his elegant city suit, his public school tie neatly tied in a Windsor knot. He didn't seem particularly pleased to see me, but then he rarely did.

"Nicely played," I said. "You set them at each other's throats without once having to make clear your own position. It's always good to see a real professional at work."

Walker smiled briefly and turned his attention to Bettie. "I see we have a representative of the Press with us. And a more charming example than most. I feel I should warn you that recording devices won't function inside the Club. And I am very definitely not available for an interview. I've read some of your work, Miss Divine. You show promise. I'm sure you'll make a name for yourself once you get a job at a real newspaper."

Bettie smiled widely, almost overwhelmed that Walker had heard of her and was familiar with her work. I could have told her; Walker knows everyone.

"Looks like the vultures are gathering over the Nightside," I said. "Would I be right in thinking that people are being encouraged to choose sides? Whether they want to or not?"

"Which side would you be on, Taylor, if push came to shove?" said Walker.

"My side," I said.

Walker nodded slightly. And perhaps it was only my imagination that he looked a little disappointed in me.

"You've heard about the Afterlife Recording?" I said. "Of course you have. It's gone missing, and I've been hired to find it."

"Then find it quickly," said Walker. "Before forces from Above or Below decide to get involved. The last time that happened was a disaster for all of us."

"I wish everyone would stop looking at me like the angel war was all my fault!"

"It was," said Walker.

"Can I quote you?" said Bettie.

"No," said Walker. "What do you want from me, Taylor?"

"I want to know where the Collector is hiding out these days," I said. "If anyone knows anything about the Afterlife Recording, it will be him. That's if he hasn't already got his fat sweaty hands on it, of course."

"Of course," said Walker. "Mark never could resist the challenge of the chase...Very well. The Collector is currently hiding his collection inside another collection. To be exact, inside the Museum of Unnatural History."

"An exclusive!" said Bettie, beaming happily.

"Not for long," said Walker. "He'll move again once he's been found. Poor Mark."

"You know the Collector personally?" said Bettie. "Is that how you know where he's been hiding?"

"I know where everyone is," said Walker. "That's my job."

"Do you know where the offices of the Unnatural Inquirer are located?"

"Yes."

"Ah," said Bettie Divine. "Then I'd better contact the Sub-Editor and tell him to tone down tomorrow's editorial."

"I would," said Walker. He looked back at me. "I can't speak for what kind of reception you can expect from Mark. The three of us might have worked together to end the Lilith War, but you can't rely on that to mean anything. His collection is all that really matters to him these days. He's come a long way from the man I and your father once knew. Don't turn your back on him."

I considered the point. "Can I say you sent me?"

Walker shrugged. "If you think it'll do any good. Find the Recording, John. And then, if you've got any sense, destroy it."

"The Unnatural Inquirer owns exclusive rights to the Afterlife Recording!" Bettie said immediately.

"There is that," said Walker. "Certainly I couldn't think of a better way to discredit it."

Bettie started to say something else, but I took her firmly by the elbow, levered her up out of her chair, nodded quickly to Walker and moved her off towards the door. She made a show of fighting me, but I could tell she was glad of a way to leave Walker without losing face.

"The way you and he talked," she said, as we walked across the lobby. "You two are close, aren't you? I never knew that. I don't think anyone does...There's a lot going on there that you're not telling me."

"Of course," I said. "I'm protecting you."

"From what?"

"From never being able to sleep again."

We left the Londinium Club, and strolled unhurriedly through the sleazy streets of the Nightside. Amber light from the street-lamps was easily shouldered aside by the fierce electric colours of the flas.h.i.+ng neon signs, and the grubby pavements were crowded with preoccupied, anxious figures, all intent on their own private dreams and d.a.m.nations. Sweet sounds and madder music blasted out of the open doors of clubs where the fun never stopped, and you could dance till you dropped. Brazen windows showed off all the latest temptations, barkers boasted of the attractions to be found inside for the discerning patron, and sin went walking openly down the street in the very latest f.u.c.k-me shoes.

The traffic roared past, never slowing, never stopping, because it wasn't there for us.

Visiting the Londinium Club's dining-room had made me peckish, so I stopped at a concession stand and treated Bettie and me to something wriggling on a stick. The meat was sharp and spicy, and just a bit crunchy.

"Would I regret it if I was to ask exactly what this is that I'm eating?" said Bettie, as we continued down the street.

"Almost certainly," I said cheerfully.

"Then I won't ask. Am I supposed to eat the head, too?"

"If you want."

"But it's looking at me!"

"Then eat it from the other end."

"You really know how to show a girl a good time, Taylor."