Frank Schätzing - Limit

Jericho had been the mouse, he was the cat. He had come up with his own makeshift plan. Assault, ceasefire, two beers, a pact. Provided by Hydra with sufficient knowledge about the girl to impress the detective. There were some answers he hadn’t been able to give. Jericho’s question, for example, about whether he was a City Demon had been a complete curve-ball. He had known nothing about any organisation by that name. There was so much he hadn’t known that the unsuspecting detective had kindly told him, like where Yoyo and her Guardians liked to go shopping. It had taken him a quarter of an hour to find out the location of the Wong markets. Zhao Bide was a loyal partner, he made every effort to help, which also involved alerting Jericho’s attention to his pursuer – Zhao himself.

He had spent the afternoon in the Hyatt, where he had had a long and thorough shower to get rid of the stench of Xaxu at least for a few hours. There had been a message to the effect that the experts had arrived, and that three airbikes were ready, just as he had demanded. He had sent the two men on ahead, and had followed them at a leisurely pace, back into the dirt where he was to meet Jericho.

Owen Jericho and he had been a good team.

Meanwhile, since the scanners had revealed the reappearance of Maggie Xiao Meiqi and Jin Jia Wei, it was time to give up that partnership. Jericho might waste away in Cyber Planet. The airbike rose into the air until Kenny could see the steelworks in all its massive dereliction. Only a few scattered people were in evidence, homeless people and gangs who had found refuge in the factory halls. A little group of bikers crossed the savannahs of the slag-fields, came closer. Meanwhile Xiao Meiqi and Jin Jia Wei had worked their way up the system of steps and climbed the platform on which the former control room of the blast furnace rested. The girl disappeared inside, while Jia Wei turned round and looked out onto the square.

His gaze wandered to the sky.

Kenny spoke into the microphone, issued instructions. Then he swivelled the jets of the airbike to horizontal.

Jin Jia Wei had a reputation for being lazy and truculent, and showed little interest in his studies. On the other hand he was a gifted hacker. No more and no less. He didn’t share Yoyo’s lofty plans but neither did he challenge them, because they actually didn’t interest him. She wanted to improve the world? Fine. More fun, at any rate, than mouldering away in lecture halls, and anyway Jia Wei was head over heels in love with her, as was everybody, in fact. As ideologist in chief, Yoyo found nicely idiotic reasons to break into alien networks, preferably those of the Party, and besides, she supplied the equipment too. For Jia Wei she was a magic toyshop owner, with him as the lucky boy who was allowed to try out all the lovely things she brought along. She had the ideas, and he had the ploys up his sleeve. What did you call that kind of relationship? Symbiosis?

Something like that.

On the positive side, it was worth noting that he would never have betrayed Yoyo. Not least out of self-interest – after all, the group stood and fell with her and her box of tricks filled by Tu Technologies. In return he was even prepared to make her problems his own, particularly because he felt a little responsible for the tense situation. After all, he had advised her on this surefire, super-refined matter, and in that he had been successful, unfortunately too successful. Now Yoyo was troubled by worries that robbed her of sleep, so Jia Wei had spent the past two days trying to find out what had actually gone wrong on the night in question. And found something, an incredible coincidence of events. Now, enveloped in a cloud of wonton fragrances rising from Wong’s bags, as he looked across the square, he decided to talk to Yoyo about it right after breakfast. Maggie’s jabbering emerged from the control centre that they had been using as their headquarters since Andromeda had ceased to be safe; she was chattering cheerfully away into her phone, rounding up the rest of the group.

‘Breakfast,’ she crowed.

Breakfast, exactly. That was what he needed now.

But all of a sudden his feet felt frozen to the spot. From his elevated observation-point he could see all the way to the far-away coke plant, whose quenching tower loomed sadly into the dawn sky. The factory grounds were enormous, and included the old steel complex. He wondered where the new sound was coming from, the one that he hadn’t heard around here for ages, a distant hiss, as if the air over Wong’s World were burning.

He narrowed his eyes.

To the left of the quenching tower, something was hanging in the sky.

It took Jin Jia Wei a second to work out that it was the source of the hiss. A moment later he recognised what it was. And although he had never heard anyone say that intuition was one of his outstanding qualities, he felt the danger emanating from it as if in waves.

No one in Quyu had an airbike.

He recoiled. Between Wong’s World and Cyber Planet, he saw two more of the beefy machines appearing and gliding along not far from the ground. At the same time a car came careening out from behind the surrounding Portakabins and stopped by the blast furnace. The airbike seemed to inflate, a sensory illusion caused by the high speed of its approach.

‘Yoyo!’ he yelled.

The machine came towards him like a flat flying fish. Reflections of sunlight darted across the flattened windscreen and flashed in the turbine flywheel as the pilot shifted his weight and forced the bike into a curve. Jia Wei staggered back inside, clutching the bags, as the hiss swelled and the mouth of the turbine began to widen as if to suck him into its rotating shredder teeth. A moment later the airbike came down, sweeping Maggie and Yoyo’s voices away in a surge of noise, touched the floor of the platform, and he saw something flashing in the pilot’s hand—

Xin fired.

The bullets ploughed through the boy and the bags he was holding. Jia Wei’s face exploded, bottles burst, hot soup, cola and coffee, blood, brain matter, wontons and splinters of bone splatted wildly in all directions. While the ruptured body was still tipping backwards, Xin had leapt from the saddle and stepped inside the building.

His glance took in the interior in a fraction of a second, probed, categorised, separated into worth keeping, superfluous, interesting and negligible. Panels with their monitors turned off, covered with dust, suggested a former control centre, equipped with measuring and regulatory technology designed to monitor the blast furnace plant. The room’s current purpose was equally obvious. In the middle of the room, tables had been shoved together, with highly modern equipment, transparent displays, computers and keyboards. Plank beds pushed up against the back wall showed that the control centre was inhabited, or sometimes used as a place to sleep.

He brandished his gun. The fat girl, Xiao Meiqi, or was her name Maggie? held her hands up. Whatever. Her mouth was wide open, her eyeballs looked as if they were about to leave their sockets, which made her look rather ugly. Xin shot her down as casually as the powerful shake hands with those less important than themselves, swept aside the bags she had set down on the table with the barrel of his gun and aimed it at Yoyo.

Not a sound came from her lips.

He tilted his head curiously to one side and looked at her.

He didn’t know what he’d expected. People showed fear and shock in different ways. For example, in the last second of his life Jin Jia Wei had looked as if you could actually wring the fear out of him. Meiqi’s fear, on the other hand, had reminded him of Edvard Munch’s The Scream , a distorted image of herself. There were people who preserved their dignity and attractiveness even when they were in pain. Meiqi hadn’t been one of them. Hardly anyone was.