Chapter 15

Thelimousinewasstate-of-the-art,apowerridepaidforbyoneoftheUnion’scountlessmegacorpsorgovernmentbureaucracies.Plushleatherseatsranforabouthalfofitsconsiderablelength.Therewereotherseatsadjacentandtotherearofthevehicle.Thelightingwasbluehalogenfromanornateflatchandelierinthecar’sroof,punctuatedbytheglowofadozenputerandtelevisionscreensandfiltereddaylightfromoutside.Belowthescreensarowofconsolesofvariousshapesandsizes.Caldwellwasfamiliarwithnoneofthem.TheylookedlikecustomJapaneseandChinesedecks.

Whatthehelldidthesepeoplewantwithhim?ThroughthehugetintedwindowsoftheelectrichesawthegrayDocklandsstreetsglidingbysilently.Caldwellfelthisfingersclutchtheknapsack,holdingtheconsoletightlytohistensebody.Sinceithadarrivedinthepost,hiswholelifehadbeenturnedupsidedown.First,therewasKenzoYamamoto’savatarthathadvanishedintothinair,thenthemessagefromGlyph,whowasnowverymuchdead.NexttherewastheappearanceofthetwoJapaneseandnowthesetwoUnionheaviesintheirexpensivePariscutsandthedeckedoutlimofulloffancyputerequipment.Allthiswithinthespaceofhours.

Thetwomenwhohadsavedhislife,ifyoucouldputitlikethat,satatrightanglestohim.Theirbroadheavilymuscledbackswereinclinedagainstthedriver’spartment.Theydidn’tlooklikethetalkingkindsoidlebanterwasoutofthequestion.Theireyeswerefocusedonthedarkunlitpartatthefarbackofthelimoasthoughtheyexpectedsomethingtoeleapingoutofthereatanymoment.Caldwellcouldnotmakeoutadriverinthefrontofthelimo.

Oneofthemuscle-boundmenwasCaucasianwithflamingredhairandablondebeard.Theotherlookedlikehistwin,excepthewasblack.Theybothlookedliketheyspentadisproportionateamountoftheirtimepumpingputerizediron.Therewassomethingsubliminallyabsurdaboutthewaytheyseemedliketheywereabouttoburstoutoftheirblackmacroporesuits.Thetwomenlookedlikeprivatesectorbodyguardsforhirebuttherewasanairaboutthemthatsuggestedsomethingaltogethermoresinister.Theysatthereinscrutable,hidingbehindtheirwraparoundmirrorshades.

“SoMr.Caldwell,aren’tyougoingtothankmeforsavingyourlife?”

Avoicelikeitsownerhadhadironfilingsforbreakfastcamefloatingthroughfromthebackofthelimo.Caldwellwassurethatitwasenhancedbysomekindofvocalimplant.Therewasadecidedlynon-humanedgetoit.Itwasavoicethatsentshiversdownhisspine.Instantly,amaelstromofimagesflashedbeforehiseyes.Fierydragons,papermoneyburningonapyre,sleekpalegirlswithdarksloeeyeslikeavatarsinanancientmassivelymultiplayeronlinegame.Thespeededupcranialslideshowsubsidedjustasquicklyasithadappeared.Init’swakeasplittingheadache.Caldwellgroundhisteethandattemptedtoignorethepain.

Thevoicesoundedlikeitcamefromamanwhocouldsingle-handedlymakeorbreaklifetimecareerswithasnapofhisfingers.Yet,itheldastrangefamiliarity.Caldwellpeeredinthedirectionofthevoicebutcouldseenothing.Hecouldimaginehowthiskindoftheatricscouldrattlesomeoneinhisposition.AndCaldwellwasalittlerattled.Rattledthatwhoeverthiswasknewhisname.

Aclick,asasidelightwasswitchedon,revealingathinhighlystrungmaninablackpinstripedcitysuitandatanfedora.Caldwellfiguredhewashighlystrungbecausepalegreenveinsprotrudedfromhishandsandwristsandpulsatedlikeminiaturefirehoses.Inthesubduedlightingofthelimousine,alongclean-shavenslopingjawlineandopaquegrayreptilianeyesstaredathim.Themanlookedvaguelyfamiliar,thehumanfleshrepresentationofsomecyberspaceimage.Whoeverhewas,itseemedthattimeortechnologyhadbeenkindtohim.Orwasitthekindnessofmedicine?Hecouldhavebeenfiftyoreightyyearsoldbutthemanlookedlikehewouldfighttheeffectsofageingallthewaytograve.Hehadthatdrawnlookofsomeonewhohadundergoneonecosmeticsurgeryoperationtoomany.Helookedfake.

“Thankyou.CanIgetoffnow?”Thetwoidentikitheaviesstaredathimlikehe’djustsuggestedadim-wittedalternativetoEinstein’stheoryofrelativity.Theylookedliketheywantedtogetintimate.Caldwell’smindwasasemptyasablanksheetofpaper.Thingsdidn’tmakesense.Everythingseemedtobespiralingoutofcontrol.Backinthecapsule,lyingdownonthefuton,readytoimbibethecontentsoftheSlav’smysteriousvialofnanopoison,hehadfelttotallyincontrolofhisowndestiny.Now,thiscar,thesepeople,theJapanese,Glyph’sdeath,meantthathewastotallyoutofcontrol,apawninadangerousgamewhoseruleshedidnotknowandhadnowayofknowing.Yet,somehowhefeltthattheoccupantofthisbigcar,thissurgicallyreconstructedsuit,lookedlikeheheldthekeytosomeofthequestions,issuesthatwentbackfurtherthantheday’sevents.

Questionsofidentity.WhoamI?Thissuit,whoreferredtohimbythesurnameonhisIDchip,anamehehadneverusedanywhereinthesystem,notevenincyberspace.Unlessofcourse,theguywasreadingthechipinhispocketwithsomeportablescanner.Caldwellhadafeelinghewouldn’tbesittinginthiscarunlessthismanneededhim.Andwhenpowerfulmenneededyou,youtendedtostayalive,atleastforawhile.

ThedrylaughagainthatremindedCaldwellofaprogramhe’dseenonoldarchivesofthenowdefunctNationalGeographic.Itwasthesoundofacobramovingthroughdriedleaves.Thecobra,thatparticularlygregariousspeciesofpoisonoussnake,hehadlearnthadsincegonethewayofthepopularnaturechannel.Extinct.

“IfinditveryhardtobelievethatyouarenotintheleastbitinterestedinhowIknowyourname.CadCaldwell.”Hisnamepronouncedlikeitwasalessoninelocution.

“Whydon’tyoutellmeandjustdropmeoffsomewhere?We’llcallitquits.”

“Wouldn’tbethefirsttime,Cad.MynameisBruceFouler.Iamthemanwhoinventedyourcareer.Iamthekeytoyourfuture,ifyoucareaboutitatall.Iamheretogiveyouanotherleaseonlife.Youburnedoutwaytooearly.Yourstarburnedbrightfortooshortawhile.Youlackedlongevity.”Allthisingoutinrapid-firestaccato,occasionalinflectionsofcockneypeekingoutfromthemonotonoushumoftheprivilegedaccent.Caldwell’sinstinctshadbeenright.Thesuitknewmoreabouthimthanhehimselfdid.Muchmore.Unless,ofcoursehewasbluffingbutsomethingtoldhimsomeonelikeFoulerdidn’tbluff.Hedidn’thaveto.

“LongevityisrelativeMr.Fouler.AslongasIamstillbreathing,IfigureI’vegotashotatit.”

“Stillthesmartass,eh?”Fouleraskedwithfeignedbemusement.

Caldwellsaidnothing.Hewasthinkingaboutwhetherthismanreallyknewanythingabouthispast.Thiswasthefirstpersonwhohadevermentioneditoutofthebluelikethis.AndcallitpsychologyorpartialrecallbuthewasbeginningtofindthisFoulercharacter’sfacevaguelyfamiliar.Andtherewasthemountingfeelingthathewasnotgoingtolikewhatthismanhadtotellhim.

“Whydon’tyoutellmewhythosemenweretryingtokillyou?”Foulercontinued.

“Youseemtohavealltheanswers.Shouldn’tyoubetellingme?Whatdoyouwantwithme?”

“OK,let’scuttothechase.You,Mr.Caldwell,usedtobeoneofus.Nevermindwhoweareforthemoment.We’llgettothatinajiffy.Butthecruxofthematteristhatsomewherewithinthesystem,we’vedecidedthatweneedtoavailourselvesofyourskillsonceagain.Onastrictlyfreelancebasisofcourse.Bewarnedthoughthatoncewewantsomeoneback,wegetthembacknoquestionsasked.Inyourcase,I’llmakeanexceptionandinreturnforyourserviceswe’llgiveyousomethingbackthatyou’vebeensearchingforaverylongtime.Thinkofyourselfastheprodigalsoningbacktothefold.”

ThetwoagentskepttheirmirroredeyestrainedonCaldwellandproducedthedeepheavysoundsthatservedthemaslaughter.

****

ThelimousinecutthroughlightLondontraffic.HeavyrainpummeledtherooflikeitwastryingtorewritetheentireworksofShakespeareinMorseCodeinamatterofminutes.Caldwellhadetotheconclusionthatthelimousinewasinfactdriverless.Therewasacertainprecisiontothedrivingthatsuggestedtheabsenceofahumanhandintheprocess.Hecouldseetheraindropletsmakingsplashpatternsontheskylightabove.Therewassomethingmathematicalaboutthewaythedropletsdispersedthemselvesoverthetransparentsurface.Caldwellhadlonglosttrackofwheretheywere.Nondescriptbuildingsandderelictindustrialfacilitieswhizzedbysilently.Flashesoflightningstrobedthroughtheinteriorofthelimointermittently,makinggarishsnapshotsofthetwoheavieswhowerenowplayingsomekindofvideogameononeofthelimo’sconsoles.

Fouler,themysterymanwiththeslopingjaw,wassittinginthebackraptinthought,asthoughhewasmakinguphismindwhethertotellCaldwellsomething,ornot.Caldwellwasstillreelingandtryingnottoletitshow.Hehadbeenoneofthem,whoevertheywere,andtheywerethekindofoutfitthatcouldafforddriverlesslimousinesandcouldusegovernmentapprovedsoundguns.Fromthelookofthebankofconsolesblinkingsporadicallyinthedarkinterior,thiswasanoutfitthathadatitsdisposalanincredibleamountofputingpower.IftheycouldhavethishugearrayofexpensiveequipmentinFouler’slimo,imaginewhattheyhadatwherevertheykeptoffices,iftheyhadofficesatall.Bigunionconcernsalwayshadoffices.Itwastheirwayofstampingauthorityonanincreasinglyfluidmarketwithahugeandrapidlyexplodingpopulationoffreelancerskeptincheckonlywiththeadvancesofidentificationandlocationtechnologies.

Caldwellhadalwayssuspectedthathe’dpreviouslyhadalifethathecurrentlyrememberednothingabout.Withthishunchconfirmed,hisheartquickenedinanticipationofwhatFoulerwasabouttotellhim.Thisstuffwastooimportanttointerruptsohesatpatientlygettingacquaintedwiththeinnardsofthecar,waitingforFoulertospillthebeans.ThelastthinghewantedwasforFoulertochangehismind.

Thebankofconsolesblinkedrandomly,linesofputercodescrollingdownindifferentmonitorsanddisappearingintotheether.Caldwell’sfingersitchedtogetacquaintedwiththeiroperatingsystems.Vastplainsofdataexpandedbeforehiseyesandhefelttheadrenalinrushofjackingintosomenewterritoryincyberspace.Foulercoughed,moretogetCaldwell’sattentionthanforanybiologicalreason.Thetwoheaviesstoppedstabbingattheconsolesandstaredattheirmasterforamoment.Thentheycontinuedplayingagain.

Foulerseemedtohavemadeuphismindaboutsomething.Hepulledastackofcardsfromhisinsidejacketpocketandshuffledthroughthemlikeacroupieratathirdratecasino.Caldwellwonderedwhatthehellwasgoingon.Thetwogoonsputdowntheircontrolsandedgedforwardinanticipation.Caldwelltappedlistlesslyonthepseudoleatherskinofhisknapsack.

“Iwantyoutotakealookatthis,”Foulersaidatlength.

“DoIhaveto?”Caldwellretortedwithjusttherightamountofsarcasmtogetontheman’snerves.Hewantedtofindoutaboutthepastnotindulgetheguyinsomeoccultfetish.ThemanwhocalledhimselfFoulernarrowedhiseyesintodangerousslitsandscruncheduphissmoothplasticface.

“Youdon’thaveanyideadoyou,whatIamofferingyou?”hehissedbetweenclenchedteeth.

“Allrightthen,”Caldwellsaidandgrabbedoneofthecardsfromhisthinwell-manicuredfingers.Foulerblanchedwithragebutsaidnothing.

Caldwelllookedatthecard.Itwasaphotographofacoupleintheirforties.ThemanlookedlikehewasofMiddleEasternorprobablyevenItalianorigin.YettherewassomethingdistinctlyCaucasianabouthisfeatures.Hazeleyeslookedoutfromrimmedglassesonasquareface.Hewasgood-lookinginthatdark-skinnedLatinway.Thewomanthough,abrunette,hadfeistyorientaleyesthatburnedwithpassion.Therewassomethingwildsmolderingbehindthoseeyes,somethingdisturbingbutatthesametimefamiliar.Caldwellhadneverseenthiscoupleinhislifebutsomethinginthewoman’seyesstirredsomethingwithinhim.TherewasobviouslyareasonwhyFoulerwasshowinghimthisphotobuthehadn’tthefoggiestideawhy.Ordidhe?

Caldwellflippedthephotographover.Therewasnoinscriptionontheback.HehandedthephotobacktoFoulerwhodeftlyplaceditatthebottomofhispileofcards.

“AmIsupposedtoknowthem?”heasked,deliberatelytryingtosoundoffhand.Anideawasbeginningtoforminhismindandhedidn’tthinkthathecoulddealwithitsimplicationsatthatprecisemoment.

“Idon’texpectyouto,”Foulersaidwithaslysmile.

“Heretakealookatthisone.”FoulerpulledanotherphotofacedownfromthepileandhandedittoCaldwell.

“LookFouler,orwhateveryournameis,thisisgettingtedious.Eithertellmewhatyouknowaboutmypast,dropmeofforkillme,”Caldwellscreamed.Hewasbeginningtoloseitwiththeguy.Thelastoptionwasbeginningtosoundaspromisingasithadbeeninthemorning.Thiswasgettingoutrageous.Foulerwastakenabackbyhisoutburst.

“Justlookatthefuckingphoto.Yourfuturedependsonit,”heseethed.

“Okay,okay,don’tgetyourY-frontsinatwist,”Caldwellsaid.Fouler’sskinnyhandsballedintofists.Theengorgedveinsthrobbedevenmoreviolently.Hisjugularlookedlikeitwasabouttopop.HesimmeredasCaldwelldidarotatehorizontalonthephotoandstaredatit.Hisheartskippedseveralbeats.

Itwasaphotoofaninfantwithamischievousgrin.Hehadthesamesmolderingbrowneyesasthebrunetteinthecheongsam,thesameOrientaltilttotheeyes.Caldwellfelthimselfbreakintoacoldsweat.Itstartedasafaintdewypatinaandthenstartedgushingoutofhispores.Therewasnomistakingtheeyes.Theywerehiseyes.Hehadjustspentthemorningstaringintothem.Ashadeofbrownsolightthatitwasalmostamber.Theywerealmostidenticaltothewoman’seyes.Thatmadeherhismother?Andtheacademic-lookingmanwashisfather?

AmigrainecameoutofnowhereandstartedpoundingCaldwell’sconfusedbrain.Hepulledhislastcanisterofpainkillerfromhisbreastpocketandjabbeditintohisarm.Reliefcameinslowbutdeliberatewaves.

“Thosethingswillkillyou,”Foulersuggested.

“Arethosemyparents?Youknowthem?”Caldwellgasped.Hewasstillbreathingheavilyfromthesuddenmigraineepisode.Stillsweatinglikeadogonheat.Allpretencehadgoneoutofthewindow.Thiswastoobig,toofar-reachingtoplaygames.

“Yes.Iknowmorethanyoucanpossiblyimagine.”

“Tryme,”Caldwellsaidfightingoffawaveofnauseaandstillreeling.

“Iholdthekeytoyougettingyourmemoryback,”Foulersaid,observinghismanicuredfingernailslikehewasjustgettingacquaintedwiththem.Hiseyeshadnarrowedtorivets.Caldwellstaredathimwithhismouthwideopeninsurprise.Abeadofsweatdribbleddownhisforehead.Hewasposedbutonlyoutwardly.Hismindwasbeingbombardedwithallkindsofthoughts.AsteelyresolvekickedinasherealizedtheimplicationsofwhatFoulerwassaying.ThemanwasimplyingthatCaldwell’smindhadinfactbeenerased.Thatwouldexplainhistotallackoflongtermmemories.IfFoulerhadanythingtodowithhismemorylosshesworehewouldgethisownback.Buthewasn’tgoingtolettheguyknowthat.Hehadtoplayitcool.

“Mymemory?Proveit,”Caldwellsaidcasually.Thiswasinsane.IfFoulerwasn’tbullshitting,hewanteditallback.ButheknewFoulerwasgoingtouseitassomekindofbargainingchip,whichmeanthe’dhavetodowhateverFouleraskedhimtodo.

“Youaskedforit.Askandyeshallreceive,”Foulersaidprophetically.Theman’sskeletalhandsreturnedthephotostohisbreastpocket.Caldwellmadeamentalnotethatthosebelongedtohimandthathe’dtakethembackonewayoranother.Foulerstillhadadeckofcardsinhisrighthand.Heflippedoneofthemover.ItwasawhitecardwithwhatlookedlikearedChinesecharacteronit.ItmeantnothingtoCaldwell.HewasgoingtoletFoulerknowthathedidn’treadChinesewhenithappened.

***

Anacceleratedslideshowofhispastflashedbeforehiseyes.Athousanddejavusrolledintoonetightpackageandstrobedthroughanancientcinemaprojectorpletewithfilmscratchesandcacklingsound.Interspersedwiththeimagesweresnippetsofconversations,discordantvoicesandmusicracingthroughCaldwell’smind.

Aroastedsucklingpigonabanquettablefestoonedwithredandgold.ThebackgroundnoiseisacacophonyofMahjongtilesandtheclangoforientalweddingmusic.Skateboardingdownasteeproadintosomeofthetallestskyscrapershehaseverseen.Hecanalmosttouchthemasheracespast.Gleamingcorporatebuildingsthatchangecolorinthesunlightasthesuncatchesglassandsteelfromadifferentangle.Athousandcorporatelogoslightupthenightskyturningitintoanartificialday.

AwailingwomanburnsapaperRollsRoyceoutsideaChinesetemple.Kungfumovies,spedupandblurred,rushpasttheblankfabricofhismind.AmillionlanternsbobinapollutedStyrofoam-infestedharbor.Kidsrunandscreamindelight,hurlingredmeltingwaxattrees.AbrunettewithsmolderingAsianeyesswoopsdownfromabove.Theeyeszoominonhimandbreakintoasmile.Agirlinalibrarywithasoulsotranslucentithurtstolookather.AChinesejunkcatchesthefadinglightofablood-redsunset.Pinkdolphinsjumpandsqueakinadankblacksea.

Oldmenmovetheirarmsasthoughtryingtograbobjectsoutofthinair.Anightmarket,crowdsofgirlschatteringinasquarethatisatoncestrangeandvaguelyfamiliar.Aheavilymade-upandrogynousface,sharplyangled,movesviolentlytogarishmusic.Agirlbendsbackwardsandpicksupaswordwithherteeth.Anotherdoesaperfectdiveintoapoolofblood.AChinesecharacterinanunusualshadeofredmaterializesonawhitepieceofpaper.

小 说-天 堂**T*xt小*说**天*堂