Peter Hamilton - Manhattan in Reverse

‘They could physically settle. Intellectually, I doubt they would be able to integrate. Myself and other police officers are a very small minority of the population. The exceptions. I understand that after my “batch” the Foundation changed the psychoneural profiling. Huxley’s Haven police officers are no longer as liberal as me.’ She licked her lips in amusement. ‘A notion which discomforts the Commonwealth even more. Can you imagine a less forgiving version of me, Prime Minister?’

‘That’s a tough one, I admit.’ Finally, he stood, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Good day, Investigator.’

Two days later, Paula woke up to a call request from Christabel flashing in her virtual vision. She yawned. Stretched. And told her maidbot to bring some tea. Then her virtual finger touched Christabel’s green icon.

‘You made it back okay,’ Christabel said. ‘I heard it’s getting tough in Baransly. CST asked for a week’s extension before they switch off the wormhole; they’re worried they won’t be able to get everyone out before the cut-off.’

‘There’s a lot of people there,’ Paula said, remembering the trip back to the CST station, the way her police escort had to force their way to a train for her. ‘What did the Merioneth government say?’

‘No.’

‘Figures. Moalem has worked hard to reach this moment. He’s not going to allow anything to stop it now. Especially now.’

‘Especially now? Did you get some useful information?’

‘Very. He was the alibi memory. Svein Moalem went to Ormal and spent the day living Fiech’s life.’

‘ What? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’

‘No. I’m not.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘He fancied a redhead.’

‘Come on, talk sense to me.’

‘Moalem told me the stewardess on the plane Fiech flew on from Essendyne back to Harwood’s Hill was a redhead. He’s right, too.’ Paula closed her eyes, recalling the memories that didn’t belong to her, the ones she’d read from Fiech’s brain. Seeing wavery images of the attractive woman in her neat blue and green uniform, Celtic-red hair all tied up with leather clips. Trying to smile as she supported his body up the stairs and, amazingly, still calm when she deposited him in his seat and he made a crude drunken pass.

Paula had interviewed the woman a week later as she retraced the alibi, confirming the memory.

‘So?’ Christabel asked.

‘That detail wasn’t in the memory deposition filed with the court. I just said a stewardess.’

‘He could have found out.’

Paula pulled the straps of her slip up properly on her shoulders as the maidbot came in with a large breakfast cup of green Assam tea. ‘Why would he?’

‘Because they’re obviously all part of the same group of Isolationists. He’d want to know everything connected with the case.’

‘No, this was a casual detail. I know it was. He was the one on Ormal.’

‘Oh bloody hell, so now what?’

‘Obviously, he has to be arrested. He was a major part of the crime. If he was as deeply involved in the Free Merioneth Forces as I suspect, he could well expose the others with a memory read.’

‘Not going to happen. There’s only two and a half weeks left to Isolation. You’ll never get clearance for that. It would take a small army to go in there and arrest their new Prime Minister. Actually… How come you didn’t try while you were there? I know you. You cannot stand back.’

‘I know. It’s engineered into my nature. But the probability of a successful outcome if I’d tried to arrest him on the spot was zero. They would simply have eliminated me.’

‘So natural self-preservation is stronger than the rest of you, after all. That’s a relief to know.’

‘It was simply a decision based on common sense. I am going to arrange a meeting with Nelson. He may be able to secure me the return ability I need to complete the case.’

‘Damn, that’s a long shot.’

‘Yes, but what else have I got? The Directorate won’t be able to lift Moalem from Merioneth.’

‘I wouldn’t count on the Sheldons doing it either. The political fallout would be too great: Lifting someone from an Isolated world and making them stand trial here all because they assassinated Dynasty members. That won’t look good for the Dynasties, Paula, not politically. Isolation was the end of this, the deal.’

‘I know, but Nelson is the best option I’ve got.’ She sipped some of the tea. ‘What were you calling me about?’

‘I’ve been digging round where I shouldn’t have, as you asked. I’m not sure how relevant this is now, but the Dynasties know who’s been backing the whole Merioneth independence movement.’

‘Who?’

‘Now promise you won’t shoot the messenger.’

Paula grinned and took another sip. ‘I won’t.’

‘The Human Structure Foundation.’

The surprise made her start. ‘Damnit!’ She struggled not to let the tea spill onto the bed.

‘You okay?’

‘Yes, yes.’ Beside her, Aidan stirred at the commotion.

‘Look, I can maybe make some enquiries at this end, see if my Dynasty will go along with a covert extraction. The Free Merioneth Forces hurt a lot of Halgarths. Heather was not happy about giving them Isolation. We could put together an operation with the Sheldons.’

‘That’s more like vengeance,’ Paula said quietly. ‘Not due process.’

‘You’re running out of options.’

‘I know. I need to make a few more enquiries about this. I’ll get back to you.’

Aidan blinked round, lifting his head off the pillow. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No.’ She ran her hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘Early start, that’s all. Something unexpected came up. I’ve got to take a trip.’

‘Where to now? Other side of the Commonwealth again?’

‘The Caribbean, actually.’

The nearest city on the trans-Earth loop was New York. When she arrived at the Newark station, Paula took a cab over to JFK and flew a Directorate hypersonic parallel to the east coast then on south to Grenada. The Human Structure Foundation campus occupied a broad stretch of rugged land behind a series of curving beaches whose pale sand was just visible in the low moonlight. A circular white-glass tower formed the centre, silhouetted by liquid bifluron tubes embedded in the structure. The long sodium-orange web of streets radiating out from the base revealed the surrounding village of elaborate bungalows. Foundation members didn’t reside in any of the island’s ordinary towns; in the last century few ventured out beyond the heavily guarded perimeter strip. It was a micronation of genetic ideologues, despised by just about everyone, yet continuing to operate under Senate-imposed research restrictions. Restrictions which had grown ever stronger since the establishment of Huxley’s Haven.

Paula was familiar enough with the set-up, though she’d never actually visited before. The notion of walking round the place which conceived her — intellectually and physically — was an experience she simply didn’t want.

Her plane landed on a circular pad by the tower. Long plyplastic petals unrolled from the edges to form a protective shell over her little craft. An astonishingly attractive woman called Ophelia escorted her up to Dr Friland’s office on the top floor of the tower. On the way through the atrium lobby, people stopped and stared at Paula. It was three o’clock in the morning local time; the tower should have been deserted. She was used to attention, but this was akin to religious respect. Some looked like they wanted to bow as she walked past. The effect was unnerving — and she wasn’t used to that feeling at all.