Market Forces Part 44

Carla made an angry gesture at him. Erik moved to a table loaded with bottles and gla.s.ses. His voice was toneless with suppressed anger.

He picked up a bottle and studied the label intently.

'Perhaps you'd like to act as if you were civilised for a change, Chris.

I'm aware that the strain might be too much, but maybe you should try.

This man is a guest in my house, and he, in fact everyone in this room, is taking chances for your benefit.'

'Glem det, Erik.' Truls Vasvik had appeared in the lounge doorway, scruffily dressed and running stubble. He looked tired. 'Faulkner's hereto negotiate, just like me. The only favours he owes are to you for getting involved.'

Chris shook his head. 'You're wrong about that, Vasvik. I'm not here to negotiate. I've told you what I want and it's not negotiable. Simple yes or no will do.'

'Well then.' Vasvik dropped into the other armchair, eyes speculative on Chris's face. 'The answer is yes. UNECT will take you. But I'm afraid there's a catch. A sub-clause, I guess you'd call it.'

Chris looked up at Carla, whose face had gone from tension to 287relieved delight to puzzlement in as many seconds. He felt a petty, jeering sense of vindication rising in him.

'What sub-clause?' he asked.

'You'll have to wait.' Vasvik was still watching him carefully. 'For the extraction, I mean. We will extract you, and you will be paid what you ask. But we need you in place for another three to six months. Until the Cambodia contract has matured.'

'What the--' Chris stopped himself with an effort of will and worked back to the easy confidence he'd come in with. 'What the f.u.c.k do you know about the Cambodia contract, Vasvik?'

'Probably more than you imagine.' The ombudsman made a dis missive gesture. 'But that isn't really the issue--'

'No,' snapped Chris. 'The issue is, you're f.u.c.king with me.'

Vasvik smiled faintly. 'I don't believe a time-frame was mentioned at any point. What did you think? I would come here and magic you out with one sweep of my UN wand? These things take time, Chris. You have to wait your turn. For a change.'

Pus.h.i.+ng. The realisation seeped into Chris's consciousness, damping down the instinctive anger to an irritated curiosity./d/hy's he pus.h.i.+ng me?

The previous meeting in the workshop at Mel's. Vasvik's face, hard with distaste.

Personally, Faulkner, I don't give a s.h.i.+t what happens to you. I think you're sc.u.m. The ethical commerce guys would like to hear what you have, that's why I'm here, but I'm not a salesman. I don't have to reel you in to get my name up on some commission board somewhere, and fi'ankly, I have a lot of better things" to-- But the ethical comme,z'e guys have sent you back here, haven't they, Vayvik ? Chris felt the answer light up in his head like an arcade game. You warned them not to bite, but they ove,ruled you and they sent you back for me, and now you've got to swallow that s.h.i.+t whole.

Unless, that is, you can trip me into blozving out the offer of my own accord. He felt a grin building. The maneuvering room was immense. And atthe back of it all he had Notley's avuncular indulgence spread like dark, protecting wings. He could run Vasvik ragged, grind his bony nose up against his own controllers' orders to acquire Chris Faulkner at asking price, and even if he pushed the ombudsman over the edge and blew it, he could walk away from the wreckage of the deal. f.u.c.k 'em if they couldn't take a joke. He'd stay at Shorn.

'Mright.' He grinned. 'Let's talk about Cambodia then.'

The tension in the room eased. Carla seemed to sag slightly with it, and Chris saw how her hand fell on her father's shoulder. Erik reached up and clasped it without looking back from the drink he was building.

Neither of them looked at Chris.

288'Good,' said Vasvik. 'So. The way we see it at the moment, you've got Khieu Sary on the customary long-leash arrangeinent, nominally acting in line with the accords you all signed up to, but in actual fiact pretty much doing what he feels like. Recruiting from the villages that'll listen to him, burning the ones that won't. Standard terror tactics. My question is, what are you going to do about the enterprise zones?'

Chris shrugged. 'We've got an understanding with him about that whole area. Gentleman's agreement, nothing on paper.'

'I see. Any reason why he should stick to that any more than he's stuck to the Geneva Convention stuff so far?'

'Yeah. If he doesn't, we pull the plug on his mobile cover. Ever tried coordinating a guerrilla war by landline?'

Erik Nyquist leaned over and handed Vasvik a tall gla.s.s. There was a conspicuous lack of a drink in his other hand as he turned to look at Chris, and a familiar anger rising on his face.

'Very neat,' said Vasvik thoughtfully.

'Yeah, because that kind of thing matters, doesn't it, Chris. Can't have some first-world sportswear manufacturer losing productivity, can we.'

Chris sighed.

'Erik, you still got any of that Ardbeg non-chill filtered I bought you for your birthday?'

'No.'

'Oh. Can I get some of that cheap blended stuff you like, then?'

Erik's right arm twitched at his side. Chris saw the fist knot up. Then Vasvik murmured something in Norwegian, and the older man stopped himself.

'Get your own f.u.c.king drink,' he said, and stalked across to the lounge window. The police lights outside p.r.i.c.ked the blue in his eyes as he stared downward. Chris shrugged, pulled a face at Vasvik and rose to follow his father in law's advice. Carla turned away from him as he got there. She disappeared into the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself. Chris shrugged again. It was a view he was getting used to. He selected a clean gla.s.s and a bottle from the table, poured four inches of something apparently called Clan Scott.

'I don't see where you're going with this, Vasvik,' he said over his shoulder. 'It's standard CI operating procedure. Protect the foreign capital base at all costs. Sary understands that, like all the rest of thesetoy revolutionaries.'

'And presumably you have informed those with interests in the EZs that this is the state of play.'

'Yeah, sure. Most of them are buying their protection through our reinsurance arm anyway.' Chris sniffed dubiously at the Scotch and took it back to his armchair. 'Why?'

289'Did you know that Nakamura are modelling fir a military coup against the Canbodian government?'

'No.' Chris swallowed some of his drink and grimaced. Next door the shouting seemed to be starting up again. 'But it doesn't surprise me.

With Acropolitic still holding the official advisory angle, it'd be their only chance of carving themselves a slice of the action. Our indesp guys should bring it in before they make any substantial moves.'

'Industrial espionage might give you backroom detail on the models, but it won't help you on the ground. What are you going to do if it looks like Nakamura can get the Cambodian army to do what they want?'

Chris shrugged. 'Call Langley, I suppose. Have the relevant uniforms capped at home.'

At the window, Erik Nyquist made a noise in his throat. Chris glanced across at him.

'Hey, I'm sorry if that upsets your sensibilities, Erik. But this is the way the world is run.'

'Yes. I know that.'

f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d screamed the wonan next door. The baby was crying again. Chris frowned into his drink.

'Well, Erik, maybe you'd prefer it if we left these generals with their skulls intact, and then they could roll their tanks out to play in the streets of Phnom Penh and slaughter a few thousand people.'

'The way Khieu Sary is going to, you mean?'

'That's not the way we've modelled it.'

'Oh, good.'

Again, Vasvik said something in Norwegian, and Erik looked back out at the night. He seemed to see something of interest down below.

'Your friends are leaving,' he said flatly. 'That's obviously enough law enforcement for this month. We must have used up our credit.'

'Hey, not my friends, Erik.' Chris grinned at the older man. 'I just paid them oft; that's all. Just because I give someone money, doesn't mean I like thegn. You should know that.'

'The point,' said Vasvik sharply, 'is that we would like you to remain in position until the Nakamura move is completed one way or another.

The Ca:nbodian EZs are under investigation--'

Chris hissed through his teeth. 'Yeah, so what else is new. Don't tellme you're actually getting ready to take someone to that joke court of yours.'

Something smashed against the wall in the next flat. The male voice was back, competing for air time with the woman. The baby's crying scaled up a couple of notches, maybe in an attempt to be heard over all the yelling. Chris raised an eyebrow and drank gone more Clan Scott.

290'We need inside information from after any move by the Cambodian militalT.' For all the change in Vasvik's w)ice, the fight going on next door could have been on TV. 'I don't want to disclose details but if we don't have clear data then a number of the people we've got our eye on will be able to use the confusion of the coup to muddy the waters over their own actions. They'll get through the reasonable doubt loophole and they'll walk. We'll lose the whole case.'

'Don't you usually?'

c.u.n.t, c.u.n.t, c.u.n.t screamed the guy next door. f.u.c.king c.u.n.t A blow, and someone falling. A broken shriek.

The baby, wailing.

Carla came out of the kitchen, as if fired from a gun.

'Dad, what the luck is he doing to--'

'I know.' Erik came to take his daughter's hands. He looked suddenly very old. 'It's, he's. It happens a lot. There's nothing you can--'

Vasvik stared into the middle distance with no more emotion than a cat.

Another shriek. A meaty thump. Chris stared around and coughed out a laugh.

'You guys are f.u.c.king hysterical, you know that. Erik, with your f.u.c.king writing, and the f.u.c.king ombudsman here. All going to change the f.u.c.king world for the better.' Suddenly he was yelling himself. 'Look at yourselves. You're fuctdngparalysed, all of you.'

Something hit the wall, big enough to be a body. Blows followed, regular, s.p.a.ced. Chanting.

you c.u.n.t, like that?you c.u.n.t, like that?you f.u.c.king like that c.u.n.t?

He was in motion, and it was like the Saab ride home all over again.

Embodied purpose, unstoppable. He went out, along the tiny entry hall, out the front door, left, along to the next door. He kicked it in. Cheap wood splintered in the frame, the door flew back. Slammed into the wall, rebounded. He kicked again and erupted into the s.p.a.ce beyond, through the hall and into the lounge.

They'd heard him come in. The woman was sprawled across the carpet, dressed in a short, moth-eaten, grey towelling robe and moving weakly like an injured soldier trying to crawl to cover. She was bleeding from the mouth. Below the hem of the robe, her thighs were mottled with old bruises. The baby was in a plastic carry chair, marooned atop a cheap entertainment stack near the kitchen door, mouth open wide as if in surprise. The father was turning, garish purple sh.e.l.lsuit.bottoms and a red sleeveless T-s.h.i.+rt tight across a boxer's physique. MEAT THERICH was inked across his chest in white capitals stretched wide. His eyes were defocused with fury and his fists were clenched. Blood on the knuckles of the right hand.

29"You're making too much noise,' said Chris.

'What?' The man blinked. The lack of uniform registered. Maybe the cut of Chris's clothes too. 'f.u.c.k are you doing in my house, c.u.n.t? You looking for a f.u.c.king fight?'

'Yeah.'

Another blink. 'You f.u.c.king what?'

'Yeah. I'm looking for a fight.'

For some reason, the answer seemed to stall the other man. Chris, who'd been worried about the baby, used the moment to take two neat steps sideways and give himself a clear field of fire. The other man gaped as if the executive in front of him had just done a pirouette. Chris cleared the Nemex and pointed the weapon in a single fluid move that he reckoned Louise Hewitt would have been proud of. The man gaped some more.

'Never mind.'

Bang Chris shot as low down the thigh as he trusted himself to hit. The target screamed and collapsed, clutching at his leg. Chris reversed his grip on the gun, stepped in close and clubbed the man hard, sideways across the head. He went down, eyes rolled up. The woman on the floor shrieked and scuttled backwards into a corner.

'It's okay,' Chris said absently. 'I won't hurt you.'

'Chris!'

Carla stood in the doorway, face ashen. Staring at him.

'It's okay, he's not dead.' Chris thought about it for a inoment, then put the Nemex to the man's knee, just below the first wound, and pulled the trigger. The man jerked with the impact, but didn't come round.

Carla and the other woman's screams seemed to blend in the wake of the shot. The baby started wailing again. He looked across at the woman, whose left eye was rapidly swelling closed. Thought some more. He placed the Nemex muzzle on the man's right elbow'Chris - don't.'

--and pulled the trigger again.

Carla jerked back as if it was her he'd shot.He put the Nemex away and crossed to where the woman was crouched in the corner. He took out his wallet and gave her about half of the cash he was carrying.

'Listen,' he said, pressing it into her hand. 'Pay attention, listen. This is for you. Call him an ambulance if you like, but don't let them take him in. They'll try to. It's what they're paid to do, that's how they make the big money. Don't let them. They'll dress the wounds here if you ask them to. It's cheaper and it's all he needs. He's not in any danger. He won't die. Do you understand?'

292She just stared at him.

He sighed and folded her hand around the money. She flinched as he touched her. He sighed again and got up. Looked at the baby. The mess around him. He shook his head and turned away.

They were all there now. Erik Nyquist, features tight with disgust.

Carla, hugged in her father's arms, face buried in his chest. Vasvik silent and impa.s.sive.

':hat?' he asked them. '/d/bat?'

293THIRTY-SEVEN.

The Landrover jolted over another pothole, hard and too fast. Coins and other dashboard detritus cascaded onto the floor. Chris swayed in the grip of his seatbelt. He glanced across at Carla.

'You want to slow down a bit?'

She looked back at him, then away. Said nothing. The Landrover bounced again. High beams splashed jerkily across the curve of the unlit street and a ravaged concrete structure that looked as if it might once have been the back end of an arena. Dead street lamps stood at intervals, most of them remarkably intact and upright.

'For Christ's sake, Carla, this is the zones. You really want to have to stop and change a flat tyre around here?'

She shrugged. 'You've got a gun. I'm sure you can cripple anyone who gives us a hard time.'