Chapter 282: Flavour Text (1/2)

The art gallery displayed no more signage than a plaque beside a nondescript door. It was the kind of place that if you didn’t know it was there, then you weren’t meant to. For many years, it had served as a money laundering operation for some of the Network’s shadier revenue streams. Now that the government was secretly but wholeheartedly involved in the Network’s activities, such clandestine operations were rarely necessary. The gallery was free to operate without dabbling in illegality.

Jason was strolling through, browsing the paintings. As he lingered in front of one, the gallery owner, Susan, approached. She was an elegant woman whom Jason judged to be in her late thirties or early forties. She cut an impressive figure of poise, grace and appealing but understated clothing choices.

“This is my wife’s favourite piece,” she said. “Is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”

“I’m looking to make a very specific statement,” he said.

“This piece is from Taverny’s ‘Seychelles Gothic’ series, where he seeks to visually recontextualise the archipelago. This is a quintessential example of Taverny’s use of framing and light contrast. If you told me what kind of statement you were looking to make, perhaps I could point you in the right direction. Only a fragment of the collection is on display, so I’m sure we can find something to fit your needs.”

“My intention is to make a potent statement on the sanctity of family,” he said. “I thought I would have more time to arrange things, but events are moving apace. Sadly, nuance must give way to blunt symbolism to make my position swift and explicit.”

“I’m not sure that the Taverny sends that message,” she said. “I have a number of works that touch on the theme of family and may interest you.”

“It doesn’t have to be depicted in the art,” he said. “Show me something unconventional,” he said. “Something whose very purchase makes it worthy of discussion.”

Susan gave him an assessing look. His suit was sharp and flattering, but also slightly strange. The cut defied contemporary trends in tiny ways; a lapel angle here, a seam line there. The result gave the odd illusion of an arrow in flight. The man wearing it was young and Asian, probably mixed-race. His accent was Australian, clearly educated. He had sharp, handsome features and dark, penetrating eyes.

“I might have a work that interests you,” she said. “I cannot guarantee I can sell it to you, however.”

“Oh?”

“There is an unusual condition attached to this painting.”

Moving through to an office tucked discreetly into the rear of the gallery, he stopped dead still, eyes transfixed on a painting. It depicted four uniquely-stylised pillars situated between two planets, on a background of stars. The content arrested his attention, and while it had no trace of magic, something about it left him completely convinced that it was not the work of an ordinary artist.

“The most enigmatic piece in the collection,” Susan said. “The artist is new and critical reaction is split. Some find her subjects prosaic, while others find her brushwork almost hypnotically beautiful. The two works in our possession were sent to us only days ago, by the artist herself.”

“Who is she?”

“The artist is as mysterious as her art,” Susan said. “We know almost nothing about her, not even her full name. She simply goes by Dawn.”

“How much?” he asked.

“There is no price,” Susan said. “The artist gave me two paintings, on the condition that this one be hung and given to the person who can name the four pillars depicted within it. I can sell you the other, which is…”

“Jason, Colin, Gordon, Shade,” he said without hesitation, not taking his eyes from the painting.

Susan was a woman of composure, but flashed a startled expression.

“That’s right,” she said. “How did you know that?”

“Because I’m the subject. Show me the other painting.”

Hiro and Taika walked out of the police station to find Vermillion waiting for them. They were nervous, but felt none of the bone-deep fear he normally induced. Since Jason had arrived, he had shown them nothing but politeness and respect, although he remained as mysterious as ever. Hiro spoke quietly to his lawyer, who quickly made himself scarce.

“Vermillion,” Hiro greeted. “Are you responsible for getting us out? I was worried once they put me in an interrogation room, but they let us out surprisingly quickly.”

“As far as the civil authorities are concerned, you were just one more victim trying to escape,” Vermillion said. “By the time anyone started recording the incident, the bikers were after your nephew and not us in the car. The lack of firearms or other contraband in your car saved many awkward questions and I barely had to step in to see things smoothly through.”

“I told you, boss,” Taika said. “Not having guns will solve more problems than having them.”

“As for less conventional authorities,” Vermillion continued, “I have convinced them to leave you be, at least for the moment. It’s Jason they want to speak to.”

“Do you know where he is?” Hiro asked. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” Vermillion said. “I’ve been keeping in contact with him via unconventional means, so he knows what’s happening and he’ll meet us shortly. For now, he’s sending a car. The police are keeping yours, for the moment. Because of the bullet holes.”

“Speaking of which,” Taika said, “we need to have a talk about what happened. Why aren’t you all shot up? What was that you were saying about vampires?”

Without Vermillion’s aura pressing down on him, Taika’s exasperation about the strangeness he was caught up in came out.

“Jason has asked that I help him explain everything to you, given that there are certain gaps in his knowledge base,” Vermillion said. “There are still things to be done first, however. I’ve rescheduled the meeting with Victor Tollman; we’ll be going there directly from here.”

“Can’t that wait?” Hiro asked.

“No,” Vermillion said. “Today’s events are a riptide, creating dangerous waters that you can’t see unless you know what you’re looking for. Jason wants you out of those waters as quickly as possible, and I want the same for Victor. He’s become something of a friend and I believe you have the best chance of persuading him to get out of the water before he drowns.”

A black town car pulled up on the street. It had sleek and aggressive lines; clearly a luxury car but not one Hiro recognised.

“This is Jason’s car,” Taika said, having ridden in this variant of Shade in the past.

Hiro didn’t even recognise the manufacturer’s badge on the front, even after stepping up to examine it. It looked like a starry sky with a floating cloak containing a daylight sky. It didn’t belong to any car maker he was familiar with and he was familiar with most, at least at the high end.

He guessed that it was from one of the boutique companies that made short production runs of wildly overpriced custom cars. The license plate was in the thin, European style, white on black. He noticed the plate number, 5H4-D0W.

“Shadow?”

“What’s that, boss?” Taika asked. “Oh, right; the plates. I noticed that too. The numbers for letters thing is a bit naff though, right? It’s not 2004.”

Vermillion got in the back with Hiro, while Taika took the passenger seat.

“There’s no driver,” Hiro said. He had heard about Jason’s self-driving car, but it was still startling when the car pulled into traffic with no one in the driver’s seat. “Are we sure this is safe? I’ve heard these self-driving systems can go wrong when faced with unexpected situations.”

“I think you’ll find,” a voice came from the dashboard, “that this self-driving system is quite capable of handling any situation you can imagine, along with many that you cannot.”

“Boss, the car is talking,” Taika said. “It’s like Team Knight Rider.”

“Team Knight Rider?” Hiro asked.

“Yeah, Boss. It’s the best one.”

“It’s really not,” Hiro said.

“The best what?” Vermillion asked.

“It’s a TV show about talking cars,” Hiro said.

“I don’t watch television,” Vermillion said.

“Bro, you’re missing out. You know, if someone told me last week I’d be talking to you about Team Knight Rider, I’d have said they were crazy. You’re alright, bro. It’s a bit weird that you think vampires are real, though.”

“They are,” Vermillion said.

“You know any vampires?” Taika asked.

“I am a vampire.”

“The sun’s out, bro. If you were vampire, you’d catch fire or blow up or something.”

“It would be best, I think,” Vermillion said, “to wait until Jason is with us before we get into explanations.”

“This is too much,” Hiro said. “A few hours ago, there were people shooting at us from motorcycles. Now we have talking cars and people claiming to be vampires? I need time to stop and sort all of this out in my head. I need some time and I need some answers, instead of a constant deluge of new questions.”

The car stopped at traffic lights and Jason slipped into the driver seat.