Linus’s secretary ushered Vikram into the office. Linus was at his Neptune, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scanned the body of text. Some report or other, Vikram supposed. As Vikram came in, Linus stroked the activation strip and the screen went black.
“Vikram, good to see you. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Linus dismissed the secretary with a nod of his head. He rolled over a chair.
“Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”
There was a sense of the mechanical about Linus’s office. It contained mathematical lines, faintly humming machines. The walls held graphs and charts. The only other colour was a yellow rosette stuck to the window-wall. Vikram recognized it: one of Adelaide’s invitations.
“Are you going to that?”
Linus looked and laughed.
“Certainly not. Adelaide and I have a deal.”
Surprise must have shown in Vikram’s face, because Linus added, “She sends me invites and I ignore them. It’s a very simple arrangement. A little odd to outsiders, perhaps.” Linus clasped his hands. “But Adelaide is still a Rechnov, whether she wants to be or not. Oh, she can play at society. She may even have some social influence, through that set of hers, and I admit that she’s popular with the press. Eventually, though, she’ll come back to us. She won’t be able to help it.”
Vikram kept his face still. Linus’s words did not make him feel any better about what he was about to do; on the contrary, he was inclined to delay the decision. But it had to done. He could not allow Adelaide to jeopardise everything that he had worked for.
“So what is it you actually do here?” he asked. “Apart from attending Council meetings, that is.”
“You don’t think that’s enough?” Linus allowed himself an ironic smile. “I can see your point. Well, when I’m not haranguing old men who should have left the Chambers years ago, I liaise with the meteorological office.” He waved his arm in an encompassing gesture. “These charts are weather maps.”
“You’re mapping the weather?” Vikram stared curiously at the nearest chart. Linus watched him.
“It didn’t use to be a phenomenon.”
“Will it work?”
“One day. It would be easier, of course, if we had access outside. But for that to happen, we have to change mindsets, and Osirisers are stubborn. They believe they are living in the last city on earth-it has quite a ring to it, of course.” Linus looked thoughtfully at the Neptune. “Almost…glamorous. But not true.”
Vikram had a sudden sense of the scale of Linus’s ambition. He wondered what future role Linus had in mind for himself-revolutionary charter of weather? Discoverer of distant shores? At this moment, on the verge of giving away Axel’s secret, Vikram felt less certain of Linus than he was of Adelaide. But he was angry, and he needed someone on his side.
“Don’t you think we would have been found by now? If there were still people out there-people on land?”
Linus turned his head, focusing gradually upon Vikram. Vikram sensed him sifting possible responses. As always when talking to Linus, he had that sense of his own insignificance; that it did not matter what Linus said to him, because nobody would ever believe an airlift’s word over a Rechnov’s. Then Linus’s lips quirked in a thin smile.
“I suppose that depends upon whether we want to be found.” He paused. “There’s certainly a multitude of reasons why it’s desirable not to be. Anyway, I could talk to you about this all day, Vikram, but I sense that’s not entirely why you’re here.”
Vikram gave the yellow rosette a last glance. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the envelope. Wordlessly, he placed it on the desk. Linus glanced down.
“It’s from Axel,” said Vikram.
He heard the intake of breath, slight but sharp, that followed. Seconds passed whilst the two of them stared at the envelope.
“I take it you’re aware of the contents,” said Linus.
Vikram nodded. Linus picked up the envelope, took out the letter, and unfolded it. He read in silence. Vikram knew the letter by heart. He could only imagine what magic Axel’s phrases might be working on his brother.
When he had finished, Linus put the letter back in the envelope. Vikram noticed that the other man did not fold it in the right way; some of the creases were doubled back and the shape was all wrong. He pressed his hands together to stop himself reaching out to show Linus how it worked.
“Has Adelaide seen it?” Linus made as if to put the envelope down, then kept it in his hand.
“Not yet.” He saw Linus take note of the qualifier. Good.
“How did you get it?”
He listened to Vikram’s story without interrupting. His face was expressionless. Vikram felt his own unease growing as he continued, but it was too late to back out now. Linus’s face creased in much the same way that Adelaide’s did when she was tending to her balcony plants.
“Why did you bring it to me?”
Vikram strove for the same level of impassivity.
“Adelaide’s helping me because she wants to find out what happened to Axel. If she knows, she’ll stop. I can’t keep this letter but I can’t give it to her.” Vikram shrugged. “You’re the next logical option.”
“You want to watch out, Vikram, you’re getting quite Rechnovian.”
Vikram said nothing.
“I think your assessment of Adelaide is correct,” said Linus. “And I’m inclined to agree with your actions. My sister is doing something useful for the first time in her life-and you, Vikram, you’ve been instrumental in that. She doesn’t need any-distractions.”
“Not even if it means finding out the truth?”
Linus tapped the envelope.
“What does this tell us, really, Vikram? All this talk of missions. Horses. It’s not an answer.”
“But you believe the letter is genuine.”
“Yes.” Linus was decisive. “I do. And for that reason, I think it’s best that I keep it in the family. As they say. This investigation-it’s put us in a very difficult position, as I’m sure you can understand. Axel generated enough publicity in his lifetime. We don’t need any more. This way, the investigation can just… peter out.”
“She’s sure he’s alive,” said Vikram. “You do know that.”
Linus loosened his collar slightly, pulling its tight starch away from his neck.
“Adelaide is sure about a lot of things,” he said. “Besides, as we said-what does a letter prove?” He looked at Vikram directly. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I trust I can show my appreciation in some way-lean on the Council for those extensions to the aid schemes? Perhaps have a look at the flooded buildings?”
“You can do both of those. Will you show her the letter?”
“Of course. In time.” Linus glanced up at the clock. “Now don’t think I’m trying to get rid of you, but I have a meeting to get to.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got places to be myself.”
Linus shrugged on his jacket, tucking the envelope into his inside pocket. Vikram felt the weight of it then; his part in what must now be a conspiracy between himself and Linus. From this moment Vikram would carry that knowledge around with him like a microchip embedded in his brain. It would surface every time he saw an image of Adelaide’s face, or heard her voice on the o’dio. The thought that he would probably never see her in person again hit him with a terrible wave of loneliness.
A low burring noise jolted him out of his thoughts. Linus hooked in an earpiece and slid his Sobek scarab into one pocket.
“Hello?” He picked up a slim briefcase and mouthed to Vikram, “I’ll walk out with you.”
Vikram opened the door and Linus stepped out with him, passing an electronic key over the lock.
“I’ll be there in ten. Yes… I’ve got the whitefly notes.” At the entrance to his offices, he pressed his wrist to Vikram’s. Then he walked away, confident in his pinstriped suit, a man at ease in every way that Vikram was not; with himself, with his place and with his times. Vikram felt his own wrongness like a physical ailment. To the west, he had treated with the enemy, even if it was for their own good. To the City, he would always be an impostor. Only Adelaide had accepted him for what he was, and Adelaide was a liar, and now he had betrayed her and her twin.