Jasper Fforde - Early Riser

‘It works.’

We made it to the ninth floor without encountering any HiberTech operatives, then padded silently along the corridor and stopped outside room 902. I carefully unlocked the door and let it swing open, half expecting an agent to be inside, but it was empty aside from the steamer trunk. Foulnap produced a large screwdriver from his coat and levered off the lock.

The trunk was empty.

It was too much to hope they’d leave something as valuable as a Somnagraph once they’d been rumbled.

‘That was disappointing,’ said Foulnap in a masterful display of understatement, and I asked him what the plan was now.

‘I don’t know,’ he said in a dispirited fashion, ‘this was pretty much it. Default is to get all assets to a safe house and rethink the situation.’

‘You have a safe house?’

‘Actually, no,’ he said, ‘but it was high on my to-do list. To be honest, given the size and quantity of RealSleep’s assets right now, this steamer trunk would probably suffice. Let’s go.’

I stayed in the room while he walked out into the corridor. He turned to me once there, opened his mouth to say something and was then blasted off his feet with a concussive thud that catapulted him off down the corridor and out of sight.

There were HiberTech agents in the building. I stayed silent, flipped down my visor and powered up the shock-suit, which crackled as it inflated. I pulled out my Bambi, changed my mind and instead carefully removed the Cowpuncher from where it was hanging around my shoulders. I knelt down, flicked off the safety and aimed it at the open door.

‘Is that Worthing?’ came a voice. ‘I saw two people going in, so I know the room’s not empty.’

‘I’m in here,’ I confirmed.

‘Then best come out.’

My hands tightened on the Puncher. I’d never fired a weapon at anyone, with either lethal or non-lethal intent. But I was ready to do so now.

‘I choose not to surrender,’ I said. ‘Do your worst.’

‘As you wish.’

There was a pause and two puck-shaped pulse grenades rolled in. One went under the steamer trunk but the other described a languid circle in the middle of the floor before coming to rest. They would have been designed only to concuss and disorientate; they wanted me alive. If the shock-suit ever needed a test, this was it. The grenade detonated, but all I felt was a momentary sense of increased pressure on my body, like being softly squeezed by a large hand. Almost immediately a single figure – no one I recognised, but dressed in the HiberTech Security uniform – came running through the doorway. I didn’t hesitate for a moment and pulled the trigger. He was thrown backwards in the direction of the corridor behind, but as he passed through the door, the pressure wave that had carried him off also tried to get through the door, and had to accelerate rapidly to compress itself to fit through the aperture, then expanded with a devastatingly explosive effect on Foulnap’s assailant, along with a very audible pop .

I wiped the drops of blood and tissue from the visor, then walked cautiously to the door and peered out. I stepped gingerly over the body parts that were strewn along the corridor to look at the man who I had known as Hugo Foulnap or Danny Pockets, although that too was probably an alias. He was quite dead, and looked utterly peaceful. I told him I was sorry for not listening to his sound advice back at the John Edward Jones , paused for a moment to dignify his departure, then trotted down the stairs to rejoin Toccata. Quite where this left us all, I wasn’t sure. No Foulnap, no Somnagraph, no plan, no Birgitta, nothing .

‘What was that?’ asked Toccata as soon as I was back down in the lobby. Laura, it seemed, had legged it for safety.

‘Foulnap’s dead,’ I replied.

‘That is definitely an arse.’

‘But I got the fella who killed him.’

‘An arse with a silver lining. What now?’

‘I was hoping you’d tell me.’

‘I’m on a RealSleep need-to-know kind of deal – not sure why,’ she said, swinging the Schtumper back and forth, covering the main entrance, then the door to the basement, then the Winterlounge, ‘and I work only to Hugo or Jonesy’s orders. They’re both dead, so according to Hydra principles, that makes you the new Kiki. Congratulations. You’re now head of the Campaign for Real Sleep, with full control of all assets and supreme command of policy, both strategic and tactical. You’re also one of only two people ever sentenced to death in absentia by the Northern Fed’s Supreme Council. Consider yourself honoured they think you that important.’

This took a moment or two to sink in.

‘Foulnap was Kiki?’

‘Yup, but don’t be too impressed. The size of RealSleep has been dwindling recently and I think you and me are now pretty much it. In the absence of any known command structure and my “need to know just follow orders” status, that makes you the big cheese.’

I thought this might have been her quirky sense of humour, but she was deadly serious.

‘I’m not sure I’m qualified.’

‘If you can tell right from wrong and have a pulse, you’re qualified. And from what I’ve heard from Foulnap about you and Birgitta, you know right from wrong. I’m only sorry we didn’t know this earlier. You could have been on board all along instead of dancing around the periphery like a ninny.’

My face fell.

‘You’re not going to bail, are you?’ she asked. ‘We’ve gone too far and lost too many and risked too much for that. Bringing down HiberTech and Aurora isn’t just a good idea, it’s a moral imperative. And,’ she added, ‘dealing with Aurora once and for all would be hugely enjoyable.’

I thought about what Dr Gwynne and Foulnap had said about Aurora and Toccata’s inner conflict. They couldn’t play it out internally, so it was being played out here, in the real world.

‘No,’ I said, thinking of Birgitta and the other nightwalkers, ‘I’m not going to bail.’

‘There’s no uniform or medal or hat or anything to being Kiki,’ continued Toccata, ‘and if you and I get killed it’s entirely possible that no one will ever know you were Kiki. But I know, and I salute you for your fearlessness and steadfast adherence to duty.’

And she dipped her head in respect.

‘I’ll… try not to let you down.’

‘It’s not me you don’t want to let down,’ she said, ‘but broader society – and all the nightwalkers murdered and parted out in the past. No pressure, mind. So,’ she added in a more upbeat tone, ‘what’s our next move, Chief?’

It was kind of galling that the first time I was head of anything it would be a banned disruptionist organisation and carried a mandatory death sentence. If anything I’d hoped to work my way up to Desk Sergeant-Consul via Head of Records and the vehicle pool. But that was the thing about the Hydra principle: you could be zero to hero and back again in less time than it takes to blink.

But oddly, I wasn’t panicking. I was actually thinking quite clearly. I could retrieve the cylinder, sure, but I didn’t have a Somnagraph and the Spring was a long way away. I could fall back and consider my next move, but that would give HiberTech more time to figure out their next move – and they had more and better minds on this than I.

No, I’d have to go on the offensive right now, and hope that providence and a few aces up my sleeve would win the day. I took out my Bambi, flicked it to the lowest setting and pointed it at Toccata.

‘Wonky?’ she said. ‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s… on a need-to-know basis.’

She looked at me, then at the Bambi, then back to me.