Meridian Days (10 page)

"Bob!" Fire almost wailed.

Trevellion ignored her daughter, regarded me with cold, inhuman eyes. "Oh, and in what manner might you require payment, Benedict?"

"I'd like to take Fire gliding," I said.

Fire regarded me, wide-eyed.

Trevellion asked, "I take it you are a qualified pilot?"

"I can fly everything from gliders to bigships."

Trevellion turned to her daughter. "Do you wish to go gliding with Mr Benedict?" she asked.

Fire opened her mouth, but no words came. She nodded mutely.

"In that case, I can really see no objection to your accompanying Benedict on a flight."

"When do you want the lion?" I asked.

"As soon as possible, Benedict. Say... tomorrow?"

"And when can Fire come gliding?"

"How would the day after suit you? If, that is, you deliver the lion."

I nodded. "That seems reasonable enough."

Trevellion graciously inclined her head. "That's settled, then. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Fire, it's time we were leaving. Benedict..." She rose and strode away from the table, sunlight scintillating across her scales.

Fire followed obediently, but not before looking back at me with an expression that was equal parts pleasure and pain. They climbed into a chauffeur-driven limousine. The vehicle rose and moved off down the boulevard, followed by the juggernaut.

As I watched them go, I contemplated the prospect of capturing a sand lion — all for the chance of spending time alone with Fire Trevellion.

~

The Meridian Law Enforcement Agency had its headquarters in a modest two storey office block on the coast road, overlooking a secluded bay on the sunward side of the island. I settled my launch in the parking lot and strolled into the carpeted foyer. A receptionist showed me to Doug's office on the second floor.

"Bob, good to see you." He ushered me into a plush hospitality lounge adjacent to his office. In the confines of the room, his bulk emphasized by the absence of space, he seemed even smaller and broader than ever.

"I'm sorry to drag you all the way up here."

"That's okay. I was doing nothing better. I made a day of it."

He poured a couple of beers and we stood before the floor-to-ceiling viewscreen, admiring the panorama. To our right, the archipelago curved away into the distance. Before us, the wastes of Brightside burned with a fierce, actinic glare. I thought of the journey I would be making tomorrow.

"How's the investigation coming along?" I asked.

"It's progressing slowly," he said. "Very slowly." He seemed more sombre than his usual, jovial self.

"So you still think Abe and I were hallucinating?" I laughed.

Doug smiled. "As a matter of fact I don't," he said. "One or two things have come to light which tend to corroborate your claims."

"Such as?" I sipped my beer.

"We ran a few forensic tests on the scrap of uniform you found. Through tissue samples and sweat specimens, we traced who it belonged to. Or, rather, we
know
who it belonged to. We're ninety-nine percent certain that it's the property of Deputy Director Hannah Rodriguez, second in command at the Telemass station."

"Have you found her?"

"That's the thing. According to Director Steiner, Rodriguez began a month's leave a week ago. She was a keen sailor — she mentioned to Steiner and her co-workers at the station that she was planning a trip down south past the equator. Apparently, she set off five days ago. We've checked the marina where she kept her catamaran, but there's no sign of the boat. I've had a spotter-plane checking the sea from here to the equator, but they haven't found the craft. She seems to have disappeared without a trace."

"So the body we saw could have been hers?"

Doug nodded. "Someone took her out there, killed her and left the body to the lions. They could have scuttled her boat, to make it look like she's been lost at sea. Perhaps they returned to Brightside later, once it became known that you'd found something, and somehow got rid of all the evidence."

I finished my beer. "Is this what you wanted to see me about?"

He crossed the room to a desk, picked up a silver envelope and passed it to me. I withdrew the pix of an olive-skinned, dark-haired women in her early forties. She was pictured on the deck of the Telemass station, wearing the light blue uniform of the organisation.

"Hannah Rodriguez?"

"Taken a couple of years ago, just after her arrival on Meridian."

"How can I help?" I asked.

"Rodriguez was a friend of Tamara Trevellion's. She was something of an amateur artist and she liked Trevellion's work. She was a regular guest at the island, up to the time of her disappearance. Rodriguez was something of a loner — none of her colleagues at the station claimed they really knew her. It occurred to me that Trevellion or her daughter might know something about her, something which might shed light on the mystery."

"Surely you don't suspect Tamara Trevellion?"

"Let's put it this way — I suspect everyone who's ever had anything to do with Rodriguez. It's safer that way. I've already been down to question Trevellion but she was giving nothing away"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I thought perhaps you could ask Fire how the women got along, if there were ever any differences of opinion. She might even know if Rodriguez had enemies, people she didn't trust. Anything like that. I'll be interviewing her later, but she might be more open with you."

I nodded. "I'll do that. I'm seeing her in the next day or two."

"Good. I really need to know more about Rodriguez. At the moment I know next to nothing, least of all why someone might want her dead." Doug looked tired, his features drawn. "Now, how about another beer?"

~

Thirty minutes later I stepped from the building and entered a vid-booth in the parking lot. I got through to the surgery of a neuro-specialist and made an appointment for Fire in two day's time. Then I returned to my launch and sat for a while, staring out at the sea and the islands and thinking through my meeting with Fire, Tamara Trevellion and Doug. Little by little, I was being drawn into a situation of involvement which, mere days ago, I would have viewed with alarm.

The only cause for alarm I had now was that I was beginning to enjoy the position in which I found myself.

FIVE///BRIGHTSIDE REVISITED

I awoke the following morning feeling ill, overcome with hot and cold sweats. I tried to eat breakfast, but halfway through had to rush to the bathroom and vomit. My stomach felt a little better after that, but the pain that wracked the rest of my body persisted, increasing in severity as the morning progressed.

I lay on the chesterfield and fought the cramps. The sparkling pink powder in the half-shell was a constant temptation. I wanted to give in, seek the solace of frost. Why was I torturing myself like this? My life before I encountered Fire, an existence of isolation, apathy and relatively good health, seemed rather attractive now... Forget Fire, I told myself — don't risk your life attempting to snare a sand lion; stay on your island, seek refuge in frost and let the affairs of the world continue without you... I had gone without frost for two nights now and the nightmares of the accident had stayed away. But I wondered how long that might last, how long before I suffered an epic nightmare that brought back all the horror, pain and guilt? How easy it would be to rid myself of the physical pain, and the threat of mental anguish, by burning a line of frost and finding myself...
elsewhere
.

Then I realised where these thoughts were leading me, and I saw in my mind's eye Fire's expression of delight at the prospect of going gliding with me. I almost ran from the dome and down the path to the jetty. I boarded my launch, cast off and accelerated across the open sea before I could change my mind.

Abe's battered flier was parked on the quayside when I steered into the bay fifteen minutes later. I settled my launch beside it, climbed out and made my way up the steep pathway to the villa. I paused halfway, less to admire the view than to rest. I felt weak; the heat was draining me.

I sat on a rock beside the path, surrounded by the calls of a dozen different animals, and stared out across the ocean to the mirage-shimmering landmass of Brightside and, beyond, the curtain of fire that danced on the horizon. The knowledge that today I would have to make the journey into the inhospitable wilderness did not appeal, and not for the first time I began to wonder if what I was doing made sense.

I continued up the path to the verandah overlooking the steep incline and the sea. Abe was standing before the low wall, staring out across the sea. A pair of binoculars hung on a strap around his neck. I thought I'd caught him in a moment of private introspection, even sadness. He turned and smiled when he saw me. "Bob, can I get you something?"

"I could do with a juice."

"How are you?" he asked, standing by the dispenser with his back to me.

I hesitated. "Fine," I said. "I'm getting out a bit more, seeing Fire Trevellion."

He passed me the drink. He looked dubious. "What does Tamara have to say about that? She's notorious for not giving Fire any leeway."

"She was a bit cold at first. She's relented a little now."

I wondered if now was the right time to mention that I needed his advice about the sand lion. I was about to tell him about Tamara Trevellion's request when I noticed his expression. He was watching me with a kind of paternal concern.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Bob, I don't want to see you get hurt."

His words sent a chill down my spine.

I shrugged, laughed. "Tamara can't hurt me," I said.

Abe shook his head. "It's not Tamara I'm thinking about. I mean Fire."

"Fire's okay," I said.

Abe leaned back against the rail, regarded his drink. "Bob... let me tell you something. You might not like me for it."

I stared at him. "What is it?"

"Last year, just after Pat died, Tamara invited me over a few times, to parties and events and things. Of course I met Fire while I was there. We got on well. I was still getting over my loss, and Fire was without a father..."

"What happened?" I took a drink, nervous.

"We saw a lot of each other. She knew I made frequent trips Brightside and she asked me to take her. Well, I was quite willing, but Tamara vetoed the idea. A week or two later, Fire asked me to bring her some frost flowers back from Brightside the next time I went. She told me she wanted to know more about how her sister died. I refused, of course. I thought the idea was sick and I told her so. After that, she didn't want to see me again. I must admit, I felt hurt. I suppose I looked on Fire as the daughter I never had."

I smiled, relieved. "I know all about her wanting frost. She asked me for it too. I refused to give her any — but it didn't seem to make any difference. She still wants to see me."

Abe smiled. "Then I'm happy for you. Fire's obviously found someone who matters to her, not just some old father figure." He paused. "What does Tamara think about you two...?"

"At first she warned me against trespassing on her island and seeing Fire. Then yesterday she said I could take Fire Brightside gliding."

"Quite a change of mind."

"Well, I did agree to do something for her. That's why I'm here. I need your advice."

"How can I help?"

"Remember the event at Trevellion's? She asked you if you'd be willing to catch her a sand lion. She still wants one. She said that if I captured her one, I could take Fire gliding."

"And you agreed?"

"I intend to go over to Brightside today and bring one back."

"Just like that?" Abe smiled to himself.

"Well, I need your advice, of course."

"Did Tamara tell you why she wanted a lion?"

I shrugged. "As a pet, I presume."

"As a status symbol, more like. She's had everything else. A pet sand lion on a leash would cause quite a stir in her social circles." He paused and glanced across at me. "Bob, why didn't you just refuse Trevellion's request — continue meeting Fire clandestinely?"

I made a lame gesture. "I don't know. Perhaps subconsciously I feared that Fire might not go on seeing me, if her mother turned the screws. She's got a strange hold over the girl. Anyway, I came here to ask you how I should go about bagging the lion."

Abe finished his drink, strolled over to the dispenser and collected another. He seemed to be considering. He leaned against the rail that encircled the patio. "There are two main ways of going about it," he began. "One relatively safe, the other less so."

"What's the safer method?"

"Simple. You just take a cage fifty kilometres into Brightside, load it with meat and leave it. A couple of days later you go back, and nine times out of ten you've got yourself a lion."

"I did say I'd bring her one back today."

"In the case you want the other method. You take a laser rifle and a specially adapted cage, go out to where the lions scavenge, and shoot one. With luck, it'll stay down long enough to let you position the cage over it and ensnare the animal. But it's risky."

"I don't know if I like the sound of it," I said.

"The disadvantage with this method is that ideally there should be two people with rifles. And preferably one of them should be experienced."

"I can't let you come with me, Abe. I got myself into this."

"I couldn't let you go out there alone, for chrissake. Anyway, there's something happening on Brightside I want to take a look at while we're there."

"Oh?" Instinctively, I looked across the ocean to the line of the horizon. All I could make out was the constant, dancing wall of fire.

"If you look slightly to the left of centre, just below aurora."

I stared, and five seconds later was rewarded by the sight of a quick, lateral spear of light, for all the world like laser fire, describe a line parallel to the horizon.

"Here, you can see it better through these." He passed me the binoculars, and after a short wait I made out another linear streak of light, bending around the distant curve of the hemisphere. The sight was maddeningly familiar.

"It's been going on for the last hour," Abe told me. "They're Telemass bolts, coming in from the south and term-inating in the vicinity of the old Solar Research building."

"Any idea what's happening?"

He shook his head. "Search me. We'll take my truck, snare a lion and then take a look on the way back, okay?"

~

We changed into silversuits, armed ourselves with laser rifles and loaded the cage onto the back of the hover-truck. Abe accelerated the vehicle from the bay and for the next hour we made good progress across the calm sea. Ahead, the flat, ochreous foreshore of Brightside shimmered and vibrated like the strummed string of a musical instrument. On the far horizon the line of dancing fire, presided over by the blazing disc of Beta Hydri, burned purple patches on our retinas.

Beside me, Abe gripped the wheel and gave a nervous commentary; this volubility was quite unlike him, and I could only assume that he was fazed at the thought of capturing a sand lion.

"There's been a lot of sunspot activity over the past couple of days," he said — "hence the aurora. The temperature is always ten to twenty degrees above the average when this happens."

He went on to tell me that the truck wasn't insulated — as the flier had been the other day — or the windscreen tinted; we would have to rely on our silversuits to keep us cool. "We won't be going in as far as last time, Bob — the nearest pride of lions I know of is on the border between zones blue and orange. But set against that, we'll probably be out there for longer, depending on how fast we can bag a lion." He peered ahead, his face beaded with sweat.

The still, lifeless foreshore of the fire zone approached, and the truck made the transition from sea to sand with hardly a jolt. I pulled on my gloves and raised my hood; the thermometer on the dash indicated that the temperature in the cab was one hundred and twenty degrees. We veered from the track we had followed the other day, heading north towards a region of ravines and canyons which split the surface of Brightside.

At this proximity the light show strung out between Main Island in the south and the Solar Research building was spectacular. Although the actual building was way to our left and out of sight, the great golden bolts of illumination showed as foreshortened blasts of fire, igniting the area around the station in blinding sunbursts.

The Telemass activity recalled to mind my trip to Main.

I mentioned to Abe that I'd seen Doug Foulds yesterday.

He glanced across at me. "And?"

"Well, he thinks he knows who the uniform belonged to."

Abe laughed. "So he's willing now to admit that we did see a body?"

"Let's just say that he's keeping an open mind. The suit belonged to a woman who worked at the station, and she just happens to have gone missing on a boating trip recently."

"Who was she?"

"Director Steiner's deputy, a woman called Hannah Rodriguez."

"Rodriguez?"

I looked at him. "You know her?"

"We met last year. She spent a lot of time at Trevellion's."

I nodded. "Doug told me. He asked me if I'd ask Fire about her and Trevellion."

"He doesn't think—?"

I laughed. "That's what I asked him. I don't think he has a clue what's going on at the moment."

"Has he questioned Steiner about her?"

"I'm not sure. I presume so."

"He should have found out a lot from him, if Steiner was willing to open up, that is. He and Rodriguez had differences of opinion as to how the station should be run. Rodriguez spent  a lot of time with Trevellion on the island, and more than once I heard her complain about Steiner."

We fell silent, each to our own thoughts.

We hovered at an even one hundred kilometres per hour towards zone orange, drawing a great spume of sand in our wake. The temperature in the cab rose steadily — at 160° I drank a litre of water from the canteen and lowered the face-mask, but all that achieved was to block out the glare; the heat was intolerable.

We passed rafts of low-lying vegetation — paddle-shaped cacti with bright, pink flowers. I felt a familiar surge of delight at the sight, quickly followed by the realisation that the days of my frost dependency were, hopefully, behind me; then I realised that the sickness and nausea I had experienced all morning had passed. I was hot, sticky and uncomfortable, but no longer ill. I thought back to that morning, and felt relief and pride that I'd had the strength to turn my back on the frost in the half-shell. For the next hour, in a bid to take my mind off the merciless heat, I considered Fire and where we might go gliding.

As we left zone blue, the terrain this far north changed. A fissure cracked the parched sand of the desert beside us, opened up into a rift valley perhaps twenty kilometres long, five wide and one deep. In the narrow valley bottom, away from the direct light of the sun, I made out the gnarled trickle of a meagre stream, flanked by patches of tropical greenery.

"It's an underground spring," Abe said, noticing my interest. "It irrigates the valleys and makes them havens for wildlife. We're not far off the lions' breeding ground. They gather here every cycle, mate and have their young, then move inland, scavenging. There should still be a few stragglers around. They breed once a year, and it was just over a year since I was last here."

We came to a second, smaller canyon, parallel to the first. Abe stopped the truck and we admired the view. From here to the coast, the land was scarred and chapped with a series of steaming vents and fissures. Before us, the desert dropped away into a wide canyon. A rainbow hung halfway down the far incline, in the mist created by the perfect arc of a waterfall. The valley bottom was a tangle of jungle, patched with cloud. I had never imagined that such a place existed on Brightside.

"Good God, it's beautiful..."

Abe smiled. "The Cunningham Rift," he said.

"You discovered it?" I asked, surprised.

He laughed. "No — the original exploration team discovered it, gave it a number."

"Then how come...?"

"It's named after my wife, Pat," Abe said. "She lost her life here last year."

I stared at him. He quickly lowered his face-mask. "We're wasting time, Bob. Let's get to it."

He unclipped a laser from the rack, opened the door and jumped out. He strode to the edge of the escarpment and surveyed the terrain below. I joined him.