Janus (17 page)

He seemed to make an effort to rouse himself and began speaking. “Something happened to me. I’ve only been here a matter of days, and things keep changing on me.” His voice was beginning to rise, and he broke off and fell silent. They walked slowly, staying close together. She was wondering if she should prompt him with a question, when he said, “I cut a man’s throat in there.”

She stared at him, and carefully, dispassionately, he explained about the tracheotomy.

She looked away at the mountains then turned to him again. There was an expression on his face she could not interpret. “You think you’ve done it before?”

“I must have, mustn’t I?” he said.

“What then? Maybe they teach that in first-aid courses, for people going into the jungle somewhere.”

“Then maybe I got my arm savaged by a Bengal tiger.”

“Do you know why you felt you couldn’t leave the clinic?”

He frowned. “Watching all the pain . . . I felt I belonged there somehow.”

“To help.” She pictured him in a smoke-filled space, pulling the injured away from machines and sparking cables. “I wonder if you were in a lab accident before you came here.”

“My arm, you mean? Broken glass?”

“It could be, couldn’t it? Christ, it’s all guesswork though. Do you think it was sabotage this morning?”

“I think it must have been,” he said. “Nobody seemed to believe anything like that could happen by accident. I saw someone in a brown uniform shirt talking to some of the victims.”

“Security. In the clinic.” Suddenly, her mind raced. “It’s too close to those leaflets, they’ll be looking for a connection. They’ll think Barbara was in on this.”

“Because she can’t defend herself?”

“The cop I went to for help—I didn’t realise at the time, but he could have had orders to delay looking for her.” She stopped and peered up at him. “I’m paranoid, aren’t I? Of course I am. I don’t care. Do something for me, please?”

“If I can.”

“Get to Schneider’s lab again, as soon as you can—let’s walk back now. Make copies of all Barbara’s computer files. Don’t ask me what I expect to find; if I knew, I wouldn’t need to ask. I want to know what evidence there is, if someone starts to frame her. You may not be able to open the files without a password, but the system will let you make backups if no one’s put double locks on.”

She left Grebbel at the clinic and returned to the office. Towards the end of the day, Larsen returned. He still seemed shaken. He said he had been at the labs to review the design of the next batch of experiments, and had seen some of the casualties.

The distress in his manner disturbed her. “It’s been a bad day,” she said. “Let’s quit; let’s get something to eat and then go to this meeting.”

Chris said he would finish his simulation, and maybe see them in the Hall. Larsen seemed about to refuse, then looked grateful and nodded. He walked to the cafeteria with Elinda and they ate slowly, saying little, until it was time to go to the meeting.

The doors were open, but despite the cold, people were gathering outside. A tall red-haired woman with a pair of toddlers told them, “The choir’s finishing rehearsal. The show must go on, you know. They’ll let you go in if you promise them to be quiet. Of course there’s no way I can take these two in.”

“Should we wait, too?” Larsen asked Elinda.

One of the children was chasing the other in circles round them. The victim screamed happily and then tripped and fell against Elinda’s leg. She looked a little like the child that had fallen in the fishpond earlier. “Let’s go in,” Elinda said.

Inside, the stage was cleared and the choir stood in rows facing the conductor. A few seats were occupied. Voices rose and fell like the waves of the sea. Only the stage was lit, and great veils of shadow seemed to loom over the empty seats. Elinda felt she was in a dank underwater cavern, filled with the moans of the dead. She wished she had stayed outside.

“A modern piece of hymn-making,” Larsen muttered to her when the conductor lowered her baton to talk to the performers. “I admit I would rather have stood in the wind.”

“You should have said so. Shall we go back out?”

“It must be nearly over by now. We may as well stay warm. I believe this was the kind of music I lived with as a child. It has a lot of obscure associations for me now—both joyous and wretched. The combination can be almost unbearable, but I hope I can learn to come to terms with the bad and still value the good. It may be salutary to listen.”

The conductor lifted her arms again. The voices rose, from the throats of men in shirtsleeves, women in boiler suits—an elemental cry, an appalling, inhuman sound uttered from the mouths of people she passed every day in the street. The music bypassed her mind and worked within her muscles, her guts. She closed her eyes and waited for it to end.

Finally it did, and she realised she had been gnawing her fingers throughout.

Larsen shifted in his seat. “And now the more mundane problems of the world.”

Within a few moments, the choir had been hurried away and chairs and a long table were being set up on the stage. She looked around, waiting for Grebbel to arrive. The Hall was filling up: two or three hundred people, she guessed. A hand microphone had been put on the table, and Dr. Henry and some of the other council members were talking quietly at the side of the stage. Henry looked at his watch, then shooed the group toward the table and went to the microphone.

“First of all,” he began, “thank you all for coming. We have a serious matter to deal with tonight, and I’d appreciate it if, as soon as you can, you would pass on what happens here to your friends who haven’t been able to make it or see this on the net.

“As you know by now, there was an explosion in the new generating room this afternoon. According to the latest information I have, about forty people were injured, seventeen seriously. Relatives and close friends are being informed individually, but none of the injuries are believed to be life-threatening.” Beside Elinda, Larsen gave an audible sigh.

“To be blunt, we believe the explosion was deliberately set, an act of sabotage. I see this doesn’t come as a shock to most of you, which is another reason why I called this meeting. We have had suspicions for some time that a group in our midst has been planning to disrupt our life here—though we did not suspect they would go this far. We are going to need the full cooperation of every member of the community if we are to prevent a repeat of today’s tragedy. I’ll outline what precautions we plan to take and what new bylaws we shall require. But first I’ll hand the microphone over to Erik, our engineering manager, to explain what we believe happened.”

The engineer stood and described how the effects of the blast and how some quick forensic science had established that two or three sticks of plastic explosive had been used in the main generator bay. He described the effects of the blast and the type of injuries it had caused. Then he paused and put a cardboard box on the table. He lifted out some blackened pieces of metal and a length of wire.

“These are some of the fragments our team found. Some of them were taken from the thigh of one of the injured, where they had created shrapnel wounds. They are part of a lithium battery and a timing device. Personally I cannot see how this explosion can be anything but a deliberate attempt to damage equipment that is almost irreplaceable here, and to kill some of our most valued workers.” Without further comment he sat down.

Dr. Henry thanked him and introduced the Security chief.

She stood and surveyed the audience for a few moments before speaking. “Several of you in this room,” she said with emphasis, “are close to people who were almost killed this afternoon, and who may be maimed for life.” She paused and looked at them again. “And, almost certainly, someone listening to me now either planted that bomb or knows who did.”

Larsen muttered, “Here she comes, the witch-hunter. She will destroy us all if she sows distrust like that.”

“We don’t believe a large group was responsible,” the woman continued; “but in a society like ours, even a single deviant can threaten the safety of every one of us. As the result of some recent events here, we have some idea of who is involved, and we are keeping our suspects under observation while we assemble our evidence.

“Dr. Henry has indicated that we’ll be tightening security. I can’t reveal all the measures we will take, but I think it fair to tell you that our personnel will be among you more often now. Some of them will be apparent; some will not. We have enacted the emergency powers regulations, giving all accredited members of the Security forces the authority to stop, question, and if necessary search any person they feel may be a threat to the safety of the community.

“Needless to say, we have emphasised to our staff that these new powers are to be used with the utmost tact and restraint. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that they are utterly necessary, and therefore I ask you all to give us your understanding and cooperation while the crisis lasts.”

Dr. Henry summed up and asked for questions.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elinda saw Grebbel slide into a seat at the end of their row. Someone was asking how long the crisis was expected to last, and how they would know when it was over. Henry started to make soothing noises that made little impression on her. When he finished speaking, she surprised herself by standing up.

“Sit down,” Larsen whispered urgently. “Don’t make a fuss here.”

“Yes,” Dr. Henry said. “The young lady on the left.”

“You believe there’s a connection between the bombing and some recent events here. Can you be more specific? Were you referring to the leaflets put out the other day? And does that mean there’s some truth to what they said?”

Henry looked at her appraisingly. Finally he said, “I could hand this one to our Security chief, but I’m sure she’d merely tell you that we can’t divulge information like that until we’re sure the criminal or criminals have been put away. If you have a particular reason for asking those questions, perhaps you could contact me at the end of the meeting.”

Larsen tugged at her sleeve. “Sit down. Let it go.”

She shrugged and took her seat. The questions continued, but she paid no attention. After a couple of minutes she caught Grebbel’s eye, and he pointed towards the door. Larsen muttered, “Yes that’s a good idea. Go now. I’ll tell you tomorrow if anything else happens here.”

She joined Grebbel at the back of the Hall and they left together.

“It’s started, then,” she said. “Did you hear all of it? I can’t help wondering if I didn’t leave a whole universe behind to get away from things like that—emergency measures and arbitrary surveillance.”

“Why did you ask Henry about the leaflets then?”

Ahead of them, bronze and white clouds broke like slow-motion surf around a black pinnacle. One of the moons made an ivory crescent above the head of the valley.

“I was upset,” Elinda said. “I wanted to see what he’d say. Barbara had something to do with those leaflets, but I’m certain she’d never start bombing people. If they’re trying to incriminate her, to use her as a scapegoat, I want to know. Did you get to her lab, by the way?”

“Yes, of course,” said Grebbel. “I copied the files. They’re on a blue stick in Barbara’s drawer.” He looked less withdrawn than when she had left him that afternoon.

“Thanks. I’ll look in tomorrow and pick them up. You want to go in here?”

A swinging signboard illuminated by a colour-corrected mercury lamp bore the name
Red Lion
. “This the tavern?” he said. “Sure. I’ve yet to see the inside of the place. And I’d say we could both use a drink.”

Inside, dark wooden panels divided it into alcoves facing on a common bar. The lighting was a mixture of small shaded bulbs, perhaps from flashlights, and colour-balanced LEDs. In a far alcove, a man was singing off-key, something about falling down a rabbit hole. Closer, the benches were occupied by men and women in construction gear.

Grebbel and Elinda found seats on a padded bench beside a window, near the end of the bar. A waiter in a black and white check shirt came, and Elinda ordered a whiskey sour. “I know too much about their beer, and their hard liquor isn’t something I’d normally drink straight, though it’s getting better. Isn’t that right, Pedro?”

The waiter grinned. “We always tell the customers we’re getting better. Haven’t seen you in here for a while though. Maybe you’d be surprised at what we’ve got.”

“Surprised, maybe,” she said; “delighted—I doubt it. If you don’t want what I’m having,” she said to Grebbel, “I’d recommend the vodka or gin.”

He shrugged. “I’ll try what you’re having. Make it a double.”

A man in a group at their end of the bar began describing a shuttle lift-off to the other waiter. At a table nearby, a couple were talking about the chances of finding the saboteur.

Their drinks arrived. Elinda swallowed a mouthful. Grebbel tasted his, then drained it.

She frowned to herself and shook her head. ”I’m not doing very well yet. I tried tracing where the leaflets had come from. I found where the paper they were printed on went to, but now I don’t think that tells me much. I’m not giving up, but I’ll have to think of something else to try.”

He squeezed her hand. “Just don’t try anything that’ll get you into trouble. Don’t think of anything like that.”

They were silent, gazing at each other in the tinted light.

“. . . you can’t see the laser beam, but you can hear it, at least it seems that way, the whole sky roaring—and there’s the thrust chamber glowing like the sun, climbing like a bird, and the hydrogen not turned on yet . . .”

Glasses clinked. A group entered and another left.

“. . . but that’s the point—how much longer will they pour money into here if someone’s trying to blow their investment apart?”

Grebbel reached across the table and took her hand. Her fingers stroked his palm. They shared a smile. “Things can’t be important all the time,” she said. “We can go in a minute.”

Outside, they stopped and held each other. He rubbed her shoulders, stroked the back of her neck, she ran her hands along his spine. In the trees on the valley slope, the wind rose and roared and was quiet again. Masses of moonlit cloud turned ponderously overhead. Beyond the clouds, the aurora writhed. She muttered into his shoulder, “You’re still wound up tight, aren’t you?”