Peter Hamilton - The Mandel Files

That was when she finally met Julia Evans, in the flesh, shaking hands, actually saying hello in a voice that quavered alarmingly. The back of her legs trembled slightly, as if she’d run a marathon. But Julia Evans only smiled weakly, murmuring a few encouraging words. Charlotte virtually fled to her seat at the table in relief. There were none of the expected allegations, no hostility. Julia Evans didn’t blame her for any of the trouble.

She watched unobtrusively as Julia Evans said something to Fabian, her finger tracing the shrinking bruise round his eye where the maid had struck him. The clinic medics had reduced the swelling to virtually nothing. Fabian just blushed and looked at the floor.

Charlotte was sitting next to Suzi who had come in ahead of them. The small hardline woman was in one of the Event Horizon security team tracksuits. There was a slight bulge in the fabric round her knee; but her stride had been natural enough.

Rick Parnell introduced himself, and promptly sat in a chair at the end of the table, just beating Greg to it. Greg seemed momentarily put out, but settled for the next chair down. Victor Tyo sat opposite her, activating the terminal in front of him.

Fabian took his chair beside her, fumbling for her hand below the table. She gave him a quick squeeze of reassurance.

The three flatscreens on the wall lit up as Julia Evans sat at the head of the table. One of them showed the face of an old man, the other two were of Julia herself, none of them had any background.

“They are synthesized images,” Julia explained. “My grandfather and I have our memories stored in neural network cores.”

Philip Evans; Charlotte remembered him, Event Horizon’s founder. She’d heard enough after dinner talk to know he had played a large part in the downfall of the PSP.

The whole concept was amazing. Julia could be in two places at once, three, four-No wonder Event Horizon worked so perfectly. Charlotte felt a smile of admiration building. It really was true, nobody could beat Julia Evans. Reality was actually greater than legend.

“That’s how you burned into the Colonel Maitland’s ‘ware,” Fabian said. He sounded impressed.

“Yes. And I’d be obliged if you two treated the knowledge of the NN cores’ existence, and anything we discuss here today, as completely confidential, please.”

“Yes, of course,” Charlotte said. She nudged Fabian.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Good. Now then, I understand Nia Korovilla was asking you about the flower, Charlotte?”

“Yes, she wanted to know who gave it to me.”

“A lot of people do,” Greg said softly. Will you tell us?”

This was where she had planned on doing her bargaining; a trade, money, and guaranteed safety for what she knew. But she didn’t know what sort of price to ask for, and some hard little core of anger inside wanted something to be done about Baronski, wanted justice. She strongly suspected that the kind of people who killed the old man weren’t the kind who ever sat in courts to be tried. And Fabian would need protecting as well.

Julia Evans was the only person who could sort out those kind of loose ends for her. It would be for the best if she wasn’t antagonized.

“Yes,” Charlotte said. “He never told me his name, just that he was a priest.”

“Describe him, please,” Greg said.

“I suppose he was at least fifty-five, probably sixty; medium height, four or five centimetres shorter than me, very pale face, flabby neck, greying hair in a pony tail. He had a great smile, I mean, you just looked at him and knew you could trust him,” she trailed off limply. It sounded silly said out loud, but his smile had been the reason she agreed to deliver the flower.

“Not Royan,” Julia said.

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” Greg asked.

“Yes, absolutely,” she said. “He was wearing a dove-grey jumpsuit, an old one, but it was clean. All the Celestials were clean.”

Victor looked up from his terminal. “You mean this happened in New London?”

“Sorry, didn’t I say? Yes. It was during my holiday.”

Julia and Greg were both grinning at each other. “You went up to New London after New Zealand?” Greg asked.

“How did you-?”

“Tell you, Charlotte, you’re a very important person. Victor here has a big profile on you.”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I took a flight from Mangonui spaceport.”

“With your patron?”

“No. I said it was a holiday. I went by myself”

“How did you pay for it?”

“I didn’t. It was a farewell gift from my last patron, all expenses paid. Baronski let me keep it. I normally have to hand the gifts over, but he could hardly sell it, so he let me go ahead.”

Victor let out a groan. “No wonder we couldn’t trace you through Amex. What was this patron’s name?”

“Ali Murdad.”

“Did he send you up there to collect the flower?” Greg asked. “Or any other kind of favour?”

“No. It was a genuine holiday for me.”

“I have confirmed the ticket,” one of Julia’s images said. “A regal-class package with Thomas Cook, booked by Aflaj Industrial Cybernetics-Ali Murdad listed as a director. A fortnight at the High Savoy, with a universal club and resort access card.”

“That’s right,” she said.

“Tell us about this priest,” Greg said. “Are you certain he was a Celestial Apostle?”

“Yes. There was a group of them working round the tourists at the fall surf beach. A couple of them spoke to me, they were about my age, they explained what the Celesnals were. They were very devout, I don’t mean silly like the Hare Krishnas or deadly dull like the Jehovah’s Witnesses, they had a sense of humour, but they really believed our destiny lies out among the stars. They asked me if I wanted to stay up in New London permanently; they said it wouldn’t be a hard life, not like the cults that exploit children down here, but it was fairly basic. That didn’t seem to bother them, they believe it’s only temporary, when this divine event of theirs finally occurs everything will change. I think they expect to receive a higher blessing than everyone else, or be the first people admitted into heaven, or something along those lines. Being a Celestial Apostle was certainly supposed to be a step up the ladder towards God.”

“But you turned them down?”

“Hell, yes-I can go up to New London any time I want. I’m not spending the rest of my life boring the pants off tourists with nutty creeds. Besides, they seemed a bit simple, you know? Dreamy types.”

“And was this priest one of the pair which spoke to you?”

“No, he came over when they left. He knew my name, though, that was the funny thing. I got the impression he was waiting for the other two to finish. He said he was sorry they had failed to show me the light, then he asked me if I’d do a friend of his a favour.”

“What was the friend’s name?” Victor asked.

“He said he couldn’t tell me for obvious reasons.”

Julia smiled as if she already knew. “Go on.”

“He asked me to deliver something to you. He said it was a gift from your lover, but that no one must know. I thought-well, you already have a husband, you see, so there was this other secret man in your life. It was romantic and exciting, me being asked to be a go-between for you. I couldn’t say no. You’re… well, you’re Julia Evans, aren’t you? I would have been involved in something delicious, I might even have been asked to do it again. So I cut short my holiday and flew back. Dmitri Baronski got me the ticket for the Newfields ball.” She stared determinedly at her finger nails, mortified. Whatever would Fabian think of her, acting like a schoolgirl.