Charles Stross - The Hidden Family

Esau tensed. “Do you really think you can take control of the Clan’s security—even from your current position—without being an actual inner family member and Clan shareholder?”

Matthias smiled, for a moment. “Watch me.”

Gathering twilight. Miriam hid from the road behind a deadfall half buried in snow while she stripped off her outer garments, her teeth chattering from cold as she pulled on a pair of painfully cold jeans. She folded her outfit carefully into the upper half of her pack, then stacked the disguise she’d started out wearing in the morning on top. Then she unfolded and secured the bike. Finally she hooked the bulky night-vision glasses around her face— like wearing a telescope in front of each eye, she thought—zipped the seam in the backpack that turned it into a pair of panniers, slung them over the bike, and set off.

The track flew past beneath her tires, the crackle of gravel and occasional pop of a breaking twig loud in the forest gloom. The white coating that draped around her seemed to damp out all noise, and the clouds above were huge and dark, promising to drop a further layer of fine powdery snow across the scene before morning.

Riding a bike wasn’t exactly second nature, but the absence of other traffic made it easier to get to grips with. The sophisticated gears were a joy to use, making even the uphill stretches at least tolerable. Seven-league boots, she thought dreamily. The other town, whatever it was called, not-Boston, was built for legs and bicycles. She’d have to buy one next time she went there, whenever that was. Despite her toast to the prospects of future business with Burgeson, she had her reservations. Poor Laws, Sedition Acts, and a cop who obligingly gave directions to a clearly bent pawnbroker—it added up to a picture that made her acutely nervous. It’s so complex! What did he mean, there’s no Scotland? Until I know what their laws and customs are like it’s going to be too dangerous to go back.

The miles spun by. After an hour and a half Miriam could feel them in her calf muscles, aching with every push on the pedals—but she was making good speed, and by the time darkness was complete the road dipped down toward the coast, paralleling the Charles River. Eventually she turned a corner, taking her into view of a hunched figure squatting by the roadside.

Miriam braked hard, jumped off the bike. “Brill?” she asked.

“Miriam?” Brill’s face was a bright green pool in the twilight displayed by her night goggles. “Is that you?”

“Yes.” Miriam walked closer, then flicked her goggles up and pulled out a pocket flashlight. “Are you okay?”

“Frozen half to death.” Brill smiled shakily. “But otherwise unharmed.”

A vast wave of relief broke over Miriam. “Well, if that’s all… ”

“This cloak lining is amazing,” Brill added. “The post house is just past the next bend. I’ve only been waiting for an hour. Shall we go?”

“Sure.” Miriam glanced down. “I’d better change, first.” It was the work of a few minutes to disassemble the bike, pull on her outfit over her trousers, and turn the bike and panniers into a backpack disguised by a canvas cover. “Let’s get some dinner,” Miriam suggested.

“Your magic goggles, and lantern,” Brill coughed discreetly.

“Oh. Of course.” Together they fumbled their way through the darkness toward the promise of food and a bed, be it ever so humble.

Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, Paulette’s doorbell chimed. “Who is it?” she called from behind the closed door.

“It’s us! Let us in!” She opened the door. Brill stumbled in first, followed by Miriam. “Trick or treat?”

“Trick.” Paulette stood back. “Hey, witchy!”

“It is, isn’t it.” Miriam closed the door. “It itches, too. I don’t know how to put this discreetly—have you got any flea spray?”

“Fleas! Away with you!” Paulette held her nose. “How did it go?”

“I’ll tell you in a few minutes. Over a coffee, once I’ve made it to the bathroom—oh shit.” Miriam stared up the staircase at Brilliana’s vanishing feet. “Well at least that’s sorted.” She dropped her pack onto the carpet; it landed with a dull thump. “’Scuse me, but I am going to strip. It’s an emergency.”

“Wait right there,” said Paulie, hurrying upstairs.

By the time she returned, bearing a T-shirt and a pair of sweats from the luggage, Miriam had her boots off and was down to outer garments. “Damn, central heating,” she said wonderingly. “There’s nothing to make you appreciate it like three days in a Massachusetts winter without it. Well, two and a half.”

“Did you got where you wanted to go?” Paulie asked, pausing.

“Yeah.” Miriam cracked a wide, tired grin.

“Give me five, baby!”

High fives were all very well, but when Miriam winced Paulette got the message. “Use the living room,” she said. “Get the hell out of those rags and then go up to my bedroom, okay? You can use the bedroom shower.”

“You’re a babe, babe.” Miriam nodded. She pulled a face. “Oh shit. I think I’m coming on.”

“That’s no fun. Look, go. I’ll sort the mess out later, ’kay?”

An hour later Miriam—infinitely warmer and cleaner—sat curled at one end of Paulette’s living room sofa with a mug of strong tea. Brill, wrapped in a borrowed bathrobe, sat at the other end. “So tell me, how was your walk in the woods?” Paulette asked Brill. “Meet any bears?”

“Bears?” Brill looked puzzled. “No, and a good thing—” she caught Miriam’s eye. “Oh. No, it was uneventful.”

“Well then.” Paulie focused on Miriam. “You had more luck, huh? Not just a walk in the woods?”

“Well, apart from Brill half freezing to death while I was trying not to get arrested, it was fine.”

“Getting. Arrested.” Paulette picked up the teapot and poured herself a mug. “You’re not getting away with that, Beckstein. Didn’t they accept your press pass or something?”

“It’s Boston, but not as we know it,” Miriam explained. “Uh, about two miles southeast of here I found myself on the edge of town. They speak English and they drive automobiles, but that’s about as far as the similarities go.” She pulled out her dictaphone and turned the volume up: “Zeppelin overhead, with a British flag on it! Uh, four propellers, sounds like diesel engines. There goes another steam car. They seem to make them big deliberately, I don’t think I’ve seen anything smaller than a fifty-eight Caddy yet.”

Paulette closed her mouth with a visible effort. “Did you take photographs?” she asked.

“Uh-huh.” Miriam grinned and held up her wrist. “You’ll have them just as soon as I get my Casio secret agent watch plugged into the computer. I knew those Inspector Gadget toys would come in handy sooner or later.”

“Toys.” Paulette rolled her eyes.

“Well, now we’ve got a whole new world to not understand,” said Miriam. “Any constructive suggestions?”

“Yep.” Paulette put her mug down. “Before you go over again, girl, we work out what you’re going to do. You need a lawyer or business manager over there, right? And you need money, and somewhere to live, and we need to find a place on the far side that’s away from human habitation in Brill’s world and we can rent on our own side. Right? And we need to understand what you’re messing with before you get yourself arrested. So spill it!”

Miriam reached into her bag and pulled out two books then dumped them on the table with a bump. “History lesson time. Watch out for the one with the brown paper cover,” she warned. “It bites.”