Part 17 (1/2)

1.

Engineer-Technician 2nd Cla.s.s Mikkala Avril receives the letter that will change her life. It is waiting for her in the morning. Breakfast at the Kurchatovgrad Barracks.

Today is her twenty-fourth birthday, but she isn't counting years; what matters is the acc.u.mulation of knowledge, the contribution she can make, not the piling-up of finished days you don't get back again. Only achievement is notable. Next week she takes examinations that will lead to her promotion, and she has a report to finish: her paper on the dynamics of volatile angel plasma under intense shearing pressures. There are efficiencies to be gained by scoring microscopic fresnel grooves in the face of the pusher plate. So she believes. The equations are beautiful: they click into place inevitably, like good engineering.

Mikkala Avril dreams of making universal vessels that are less crude and primitive and brutal. More evolved. She has had her hair cut short to save time in the mornings.

Citizen women! Race ahead of the lumbering carthorse years! Consecrate yourselves to speed!

Every day she devotes forty-five minutes to the gymnasium. A good worker is healthy and strong.

The envelope waiting for Mikkala Avril on the morning of her twenty-fourth birthday is flimsy and brown and bears no official crest. A crinkly cellophane window shows the typed address within. She has smoothed it and read the address three times. It is for her. On the gummed back flap there is a purple ink-stamp, slightly off centrePERSONAL & CONFIDENTIALand a ma.n.u.script addendum neatly capitalised: RECIPIENT ONLY. POST ROOM DO NOT OPEN. She notices that the flap has not been slit. The envelope is unopened, its peremptory instruction to the surveillance office (remarkably) obeyed. They must have known where it was from. But who communicates confidentially with an engineer-technician 2nd cla.s.s at the Kurchatovgrad Barracks and has the weight to give the censors pause?

Mikkala's heart runs faster: wild momentary anxieties show themselves, and crazy hopes she didn't know she had. It's probably nothing. Some error over her pay. A rebuke for some omission in the weekly returns. She leaves the envelope unopened on the tray and finishes her coffee.

Mikkala Avril is eking out the last empty moments of her old life. She is hesitating. She is wasting time. The letter stares back at her from the brink.

She rips it open and hooks out the single sheet.

FROM THE DIRECTOR, PROJECT PERPETUAL SUNRISE PROFESSOR YAKOV KHYRBYSK.

Technician Avril!

Please be informed, you have been selected for partic.i.p.ation in Project PERPETUAL SUNRISE. You are to present yourself for duty at the Yarkoye Nebo Number 3 Inst.i.tute immediately on receipt of this communication. Personal effects are not required and none should be brought. All necessary items will be provided. Onward travel will be arranged.

This is a secret appointment which you should discuss with no one. Conversation with your current colleagues and officers must be avoided. You are now under my command, and all other instructions are herewith superseded and void. The nature of your new duties will be explained to you at the inst.i.tute.

I congratulate you, Technician Avril. You will be contributing to special and challenging tasks of tremendous significance for the future of the New Vlast.

You should know that your name was brought to my attention as a candidate for this task by President-Commander Rizhin himself, acting personally. Your courageous determination and clarity of thought at the launch of Proof of Concept has been recognised by the award of Hero of the New Vlast. This is of necessity a secret decoration, of course. No medal can be given. Your promotion is confirmed without examination. I look forward to knowing you better.

Yakov Khyrbysk, Director

2.

Lom sat at the desk in the guardhouse at the entrance to the drive that led to Lukasz Kistler's house. The guard was slumped in the corner, unconscious. He'd have a headache but he would recover: nothing a few days' rest wouldn't put right. Lom was wearing the guard's cap. The interior light was dim: his profile would pa.s.s muster. Casual inspection from a distance, anyway. There was always risk.

There were two telephones on the desk: one an outside line, the other connected to the house's own internal system. A typed list of extension numbers was pinned next to it. lobby. garage. housekeeper. switchboard. security. study. bedroom. Lom took a guess and chose the bedroom. It was almost midnight. He dialled the three-digit number.

And seven miles away in a windowless bas.e.m.e.nt in the headquarters of the Parallel Sector a lamp on a switchboard console winks into life. The night duty operator stubs out her cigarette, puts on her headphones, flicks a switch and begins to type.

Kistler ResidentialInternal 23.47 Transcription begins Kistler: Yes?

Unknown caller: I wish to speak with Lukasz Kistler.

Kistler: This is Kistler. Who the f.u.c.k are you?

Caller: You don't know me.

Kistler: Where are you calling from? How the h.e.l.l did you get this number?

Caller: I have information for you and I am told you are someone who might make use of it. I am told you are a person of courage and independence. Was I told right?

Kistler: Who is this? What are you talking about? What kind of information?

Caller: Information of consequence. Doc.u.mentary proofs.

Kistler: Proofs? Proofs of what?

Caller: Proofs that a certain person is not who he says. Proofs of conspiracy. Deception. a.s.sa.s.sination. The seizure of power by a revolutionary terrorist operating under a false name with the collusion of certain very senior elements within the official security services.

Kistler: When would this happen?

Caller: It has happened. It has already happened. I am talking about the greatest power there is, and I am talking about incontrovertible doc.u.mentary proofs.

Kistler: [Pause] Why are you telling me this?

Caller: I want to give these proofs to you. I want you to use them. I am told you are a person who could do this. You have strength of will. You have influence and you are independent of mind. You are also perhaps a decent man. I offer you these proofs, which in the right hands are dangerousI would say deadlyto the utmost power.

Kistler: Who are you working for?

Caller: n.o.body.

Kistler: This is a trap. A loyalty test. Or you are a crank. Either way, I cannot speak to you. f.u.c.k off and leave me alone.

Call disconnected 23.50 Transcription begins Kistler: h.e.l.lo?

Unknown caller: I am not a liar. I am not a crank. This is not a trap.

Kistler: Then you are a most dangerous kind of man. You should not have this number.

Caller: I'm offering you a chance to act. To make a change. Perhaps to take power yourself if that's what you want. The utmost power in the land is a deception. A plot. A man who is not what he seems. See my proofs, Kistler. Let me bring them to you. I will come to your house. See what I have, Kistler. Listen to me, then decide.

Kistler: [Pause] When?

Caller: Now. I am at your gate. All you need do is tell your door security to let me in. [Pause] I'm coming now, Kistler. Five minutes. Tell them to let me in.