Engineman (19 page)

They mounted the marble steps to one of the triangular entrance hatches. From within drifted the sickly strains of a band playing the hits of twenty years ago. Mirren recognised
Continuum Blues
, but done with an excess of strings to emphasise the sentiment. The
maître d'
met them on the threshold. "Gentlemen... a table for three?"

"We're meeting a Monsieur Hunter at midnight," Mirren said.

"Of course. If you would care to come this way." The
maître d'
was garbed in the dark blue uniform of a bigship Captain - but there was something overdone, almost pantomime, in the width of the scarlet piping, the chunkiness of the epaulettes and the jutting peak of his cap. His dress, like everything else about the place, was more lampoon than honest imitation.

The interior of the dome was a series of ever smaller galleries which rose in tiers from the floor, encircling an inner area where the band played and patrons danced. Each gallery was sectioned off into private dining booths with a view over the surrounding gardens.

As they were led to an elevator plate which whisked them up to the fifth gallery, Mirren turned to Dan. "I see what you mean," he said.

"Wait till you see the prices," Dan said.

"Let's hope Hunter will be picking up the bill."

"To be honest, it won't feel right - dining with someone directly responsible for the closure of the Lines."

They stepped off the elevator and the
maître d'
steered them around the circumference of the walkway.

Hunter was scanning a newssheet when they arrived. He looked up, the disfigured half of his face glowing a fiery crimson in the lighting of the booth. He stood as Mirren made the introductions. "Mr Fekete, Monsieur Leferve, you cannot imagine how pleased I am to make your acquaintance."

They shook hands amicably, Dan and Fekete concealing any hostility they might have felt towards the Danzig Organisation executive. Mirren recalled their first meeting. It was almost as if the big off-worlder had the ability to neutralise suspicion, win people over with his persuasive charisma.

On anyone else, Mirren thought, the growth would be the thing which attracted attention. With Hunter, after the initial surprise, it ceased to be a point of significance beside his attentive demeanour and charm.

"Please, take a seat. May I offer you an aperitif?"

Mirren sat with his back to the soft wall of the dome. He looked around for Hunter's bodyguards but saw no sign of them. He guessed they would not be far away, mingling with the diners. Fekete sat to his right, Dan to his left and Hunter facing him.

"I take it we are not to be joined by Ms Elliott?"

"We couldn't contact her, or Olafson."

Hunter waved in good-natured acceptance.

They ordered. The menu was interstellar and the prices, Mirren thought, astronomical. Hunter exhorted them to try the braised prawns from the waterworld of Shanendoah - the most expensive starter listed. He gave a running commentary on each dish throughout the process of ordering. Mirren calculated that the bill for his meal alone would come to almost double his usual weekly food allowance.

The food arrived and they ate. Hunter sampled his dish. "Delicious! I'll say this for the place, its fare is far more appealing than its appearance, but then how could it not be? I assumed when I booked the table that it might prove an apposite venue. Unfortunately, I reckoned without the city's innate skill in prostituting its former glory."

Mirren had ordered a cut of meat grown in the vats of Amethyst, with a side dish of the planet's finest vegetables. He ate in silence, unable to appreciate the meal. He was aware of a tension around the table, which Hunter strove to defuse with a flow of small talk.

Dan was unable to check his impatience. He laid down his knife and fork. "Forgive my curiosity, Monsieur Hunter, but what did you have in mind when you said that you wished to see us?"

Hunter nodded to himself, suddenly businesslike. "No at all, Monsieur Leferve. We have important matters to discuss."

Fekete said, "I take it that Ralph was mistaken in his assumption that you wish to sell us flux-time?"

Hunter dabbed his lips with a napkin. "Mr Mirren was actually closer to the truth than you might think-"

Dan interrupted. "What the hell is someone like you doing selling flux-time?" Mirren glanced at his friend. Dan was shaking with barely controlled rage.

"Someone like me, Monsieur Leferve-?" Hunter began.

"You work for the Danzig Organisation," Fekete said. "You were responsible for buying out Lines and shutting them down. You were behind the bombing of ships which killed innocent spacers-"

Hunter tossed his napkin into the centre of the table. "I
worked
for Danzig, Mr Fekete. I no longer do so. As for my past actions, I assure you that those deaths were unintentional and deeply regretted. You might find this hard to believe - I know I would if I were in your position - but at the time I believed that what I was doing was for the good of humanity. The methods I employed might have been deemed underhand and unjust, but they were the means that justified a greater end."

"The pre-eminence of the Danzig Organisation in the Rim sector?" Fekete asked, a sneer in his tone.

"The means of easy access to other planets for the average citizen," he said. "Whatever you might argue were the benefits of space travel, it was prohibitively expensive for the average citizen. I genuinely thought that I was working for the good of-"

"You're making me cry," Dan cut in. "You were working to line the pockets of your Organisation, and don't try to deny it."

Hunter smiled. "You are quite welcome to make your own interpretation of my actions," he said. "I have offered my motives."

The conversation lapsed. Down below, the band swung into its own rendition of
Nada Riff
. Thankfully at this range the music was mere background noise.

Mirren cleared his throat, nervous. "You said that I was close to the truth...?"

Hunter sipped his wine. "That's right, Mr Mirren. I am not offering to sell you flux-time. I am giving it to you. Or rather, I intend to pay you to flux again. I have a proposition to make."

Mirren stared at Hunter, his body cold with sweat.

Dan almost whispered, "What proposition?"

From the inside pocket of his grey jacket, Hunter withdrew a silver envelope. He passed it across the table to Mirren. "Please open it and take out the photographs."

Nervously Mirren unsealed the envelope and pulled out three large, glossy pictures. He stared at the first pix, looked up to see Hunter smiling at him. He was aware of Fekete and Dan watching him with a mixture of curiosity and impatience.

He passed two photographs to Dan and Fekete, keeping one for himself. It showed the side view of a short, stubby smallship, its silver paintwork marked with meteor impact slashes and flame excoriations behind the booster exhaust vents.

"An ex-Indian navy cruiser," Mirren said. "Hindustan Class II." He peered at the insignia on the flank and tail-fin. "I'd guess it was built in the Calcutta shipyards about thirty years ago."

Hunter said, "It's actually twenty-five years old, but you are correct in every other detail."

Dan stared at the photograph in his hand. "It's a little beauty. I've actually pushed one - a shuttle flight between Mars and Triton."

Fekete murmured, "It certainly is magnificent."

Mirren was watching Hunter, dry of throat, while the others prattled on. The off-worlder was smiling to himself.

"I am glad you're impressed," he said. "I own the smallship."

Dan was the first to voice an objection. "That's impossible! They were all scrapped, made inoperable. The interface people made sure they bought out every Line and junked every last 'ship. Even those that went to museums had their guts ripped out."

"And the Organisations," Fekete added, "are vigilant in their campaign to ensure that no-one ever gathers the parts and puts them back together."

Hunter shook his head. "They like to give that impression, and they were vigilant in the early days. They owned all the transportation licences and they didn't want their territory invaded. But latterly they've grown lax. Ship parts are expensive, and who would have the funds to put together and fly such a cost-consuming machine?"

"Where did you get it?" Mirren asked.

"I bought the shell of the 'ship itself from the New Delhi Universal Science Museum; the fittings, computers and such from various scrap yards and second-hand dealers in Europe and Asia, mainly London and Seoul. The flux-tank I located here, in Paris. Perhaps the most difficult part of the entire operation was finding engineers and technicians I could trust. But I succeeded." He gestured at the pictures.

Mirren was aware of a hard pressure of excitement in the centre of his chest like an incipient coronary. He could hardy bring himself to ask Hunter the all-important question.

Dan had no such reservations. "What the hell are you planning to do with it, Hunter?"

"I need," the off-worlder said, "a number of Enginemen to push the boat out to the Rim and back."

In that second, Mirren looked upon Hunter as his own personal saviour. He closed his eyes and heard the words again. Whatever capability he might have had to think logically, rationally, had deserted him. All he was able to comprehend was the miracle that Hunter had offered: a smallship to mind-push; an end to all the years of hell he'd endured since the closure; the opportunity to once again acquaint himself with the sublime state of being attained when pushing a 'ship through the
nada
-continuum.

Caspar Fekete brought him crashing back to earth.

The Nigerian sat back in his seat and sipped his coffee, his belly straining at the material of his djellaba. Until now he had been polite in speech and manner. Mirren expected him to graciously thank Mr Hunter, maybe even celebrate the occasion by ordering a magnum of champagne.

"I wonder if you would be so kind as to answer me one question, Mr Hunter?" Fekete asked. "Why should we for one second trust someone responsible for the closure of countless Lines and the deaths of several spacers?"

Mirren stared at the Nigerian.

"Good question, Mr Fekete," Hunter said. "Of course you have every right to be suspicious. I know I would be if our situations were reversed. The fact is that my opinions have changed somewhat since I left the Danzig Organisation."

Fekete laughed. "And you think we should believe you, just like that?"

Before Hunter could respond, Dan said, "How have your opinions changed - or more importantly
why
?"

Hunter caressed his chin where the crimson growth terminated. He considered his reply. "I no longer support the aims of the Danzig Organisation - those aims being the brutal invasion of the free worlds of the Rim, the suppression of political opposition, free speech, free
thought
. The ideals I worked for in the early years are no longer the ideals espoused by the governing forum of the Organisation. I have seen too many atrocities, gentlemen, perpetrated by the Danzig militia, to sit idly by and do nothing."

Fekete clapped his hands. "Words, sir. Mere words! You've succeeded in telling us nothing and making me, for one, even more suspicious."

Dan leaned forward. Mirren sensed that Leferve wanted more than anything to trust in Hunter, but at the same time was wary of being tricked.

"Where do you want us to go," Dan asked, "and why?"

Hunter sipped his wine. He regarded the circle of ruby liquid in his glass for a long time, his face expressionless. "I am afraid that if I told you the details of the mission, then you might be in grave danger if ever the Danzig Organisation found out. I would not wish to place you in that position."

"Ridiculous!" Fekete snorted.

"So it may appear," Hunter said. "But in keeping my own counsel, I have your safety and the success of the mission in mind. I can tell you that upon arriving at your destination, you will rendezvous with the people I wish you to transport back to Earth. I envisage that you will be on the planet no more than a few hours. For this, I will pay you each, in advance, two hundred and fifty thousand units, and the same again upon the successful completion of the mission."

Fekete was shaking his head. "Farcical. No payment can compensate for the fact that we know nothing, neither what we will be doing, nor the reason why, nor the dangers involved."

Hunter hesitated. "You will be in no danger, so long as you remain in ignorance of my intentions."

"I want nothing to do with it," Fekete declared.

Hunter interrupted. "Please, hear me out. Upon completion of the mission, the smallship will become the property of however many of your team agree to take part in the venture. In effect, you will have a smallship to push as the whim takes you. Yes, it will be expensive to maintain, but with what I will pay you..."

Fekete smiled. Droplets of sweat glistened on his high, chestnut forehead. "Very generous. You overlook one small point, however. The owning and running of 'ships is illegal."

"Mr Fekete," Hunter said, "I suspect you have the ingenuity to overcome this slight consideration."