The War of Immensities (51 page)

From halfway
down the aisle, Brian relayed the message to the driver. “Bung her
in reverse and go like fuck, luv.”

One of the
Japanese managed a translation, the girl ground the gears and they
lurched backwards. The riot police, deprived of the wall their
backs had been against, spilled across the dust shrouded scene out
the front and sides. The girl reversed them wildly across the
square and then swung into a blind turn and the passengers were
thrown this way and that as she lurched them around and finally
they were heading back down the road they had come, climbing the
hill out of the valley where, behind, wild scenes of confusion
continued unabated.

At the top of
the hill, they came to a halt and it was time to let the panic
subside.

“You see it is
as I said,” the Japanese official said, not quite proudly.

“You see it is
all completely out of hand,’ General Matusu added dismally.

“We see,” Brian
murmured.

They stepped
out of the bus to survey the scene and regather their wits, and
each of them made some gesture or remark of appreciation to the
driver as they passed. The girl remained behind the wheel, knowing
she had found her vocation.

From this
point, they could see right across the valley and at five different
places they could see the dust rising, signifying trouble. In the
village they had just escaped, the police seemed to be getting the
rioters in hand but still there were momentary images of frenzied
action as bodies hurled this way and that. From this point was
offered a splendid view of Mount Fuji, not as good as the one from
the House of the Golden Carp, but not bad either. They might as
well take in the scenery, Wagner knew, for all the good they could
do otherwise. As the man said, it had all got out of hand, but that
was their own goddamned fault. In this defeat, there was also
victory, for Wagner at least.

“This wouldn’t
have happened if you put us in charge,” he snapped at General
Matusu, and the soldier cowered, knowing it was so.

“We were not
informed it would be like this,” the general glowered at the Chief
of Police.

But Wagner knew
who to blame—not those who followed orders but the three gentlemen
from the government who each already had their heads bowed in
shame, as if waiting for the emperor to have them chopped off.

“We did, and we
warned you, and instead of listening you locked us up in that
bloody brothel.”

If the abuse
was justified, the offence was not. Brian placed himself in front
of Wagner and placed hands on both of his shoulders.

“Cool it, Kev.
Can’t be helped now.”

Wagner felt the
peak of his anger slip by, but still irritably shrugged off Brian
and turned away, looking back toward Fujiyama.

“This must not
happen again,” Wagner uttered bitterly.

The sun dropped
toward the horizon, building up for another spectacular African
sunset, only this one was going to beat them all. It was the
perfect spot, to be standing on the tallest mountain in the range
with a three-sixty degree view of the dusty world below. To the
south the cruel capitalist state of Malawi where for thirty years a
crazy dictator with an allegiance to South Africa had built
skyscrapers and super-highways and railways to please the rich
minority and created the poorest population in all of Africa.
Though what Jami could see of it from her vantage point was only
the shimmering beauty of Lake Nyasa, stretching away three hundred
miles to the south.

At the other
end of the lake, Felicity strove to prepare the locals for the
disaster to come, but at last information, had not even managed to
get admitted to the country yet. Malawi, under a brutal and rigid
bureaucracy, considered itself a perfect state and would not admit
the possibility of trouble in their so-called paradise.

The lake itself
was a tributary of the Great Rift Valley, but this was the nearest
decent volcano to the expected zone—Mt Mbeya—a solitary cone amid a
wild wide plateau that was in fact in Tanzania, where no one cared
where she went and what she did. She had located a private
helicopter firm and arranged to be brought here—the mountain was
virtually inaccessible otherwise. A cheery Zambian named Bono flew
her up here, and landed her right on the rim.

“You stay
here?” he said, looking around.

“Yes. Unpack my
equipment please. Then you can go.”

“Go? And leave
you here?”

“That’s right.
Pick me up tomorrow morning, as early as you can, if you can.”

“It’s not safe
to stay up here all night. Alone...”

He tailed
off.

Jami knew what
he was thinking. Young women like herself constantly worked to
maneuver young men like Bono into the right position to enjoy them
as part of their ‘African experience’, and he plainly expected that
now. AIDS infection in the region was about 85% but that did not
deter the rich American women from fulfilling their sexual
fantasies. But Jami had other things on her mind. She didn’t want
to tell him that he had only an hour to get clear of the mountain
or else he never would. She just wanted him to unpack the stuff and
leave.

“Just dump all
the stuff there,” she said flatly.

She surveyed
the location while he did so.

It had been a
long time since Mbeya’s last eruption, centuries, but the crater
was deep, at least a thousand feet straight down and all solid lava
and cinder. It crunched underfoot as she walked, and nothing grew
here. Nothing to obstruct her view. From here she would be able to
see and record everything that happened in that crater. All she had
to do was get rid of silly Bono.

“Okay, now
go.”

“A woman, all
alone. Who knows what can happen?” he was babbling.

“Nothing can
happen. No wild animals or humans can get up here. The weather is
perfect. I’ll be fine. Now go. Come back tomorrow.”

Eventually, he
saw her point. It was, perhaps, the safest place in Africa, in
normal circumstances. She needed to herd him along but finally he
went. She watched the little helicopter fly away across the
mountains until it was out of sight. She expected a pang of regret
or something but she was too excited. Time was running out and she
had a lot to do.

First a box of
seismos and other detectors, all fitted to a little transmitter to
a monitor she had placed in the town of Mbeya below, which in turn
would feed via the net to Val’s lab. The data would probably tell
them nothing, but it did also provide her with an early warning
device, if she needed it.

Next the two
video cameras housed in a solid fireproof cases, one of which she
set up right on the rim, so it could film the depths of the crater.
That settled, she turned the other until it pointed at a director’s
chair, placed beneath an umbrella.

Next a yellow,
padded, fireproof overall, into which she fitted herself and a
domed helmet that she left off for the moment. Now she was set. She
turned the camera on and sat in the chair. She hoped she looked
good—the light was turning orange and the slight breeze mussed her
hair, but it was her show and she was the star, for the moment.

“I am sitting
on the edge of the crater of Mt Mbeya, which, in a few minutes, I
expect to erupt. I am here to observe that eruption from closer
than anyone has ever been. I’m doing this for my own satisfaction,
but I brought this camera and some data gatherers along, for what
it’s worth. The box of tricks will record data for as long as it
lasts, the camera will record the eruption for as long is it lasts,
and I was stand on the edge and observe it for as long as I last.
This is going to be the best thing I’ve ever done.”

That sounded
good. She was sure her voice was level and she was calm and looked
happy, which was also the way she felt. There was exhilaration, and
if she was also apprehensive, she wasn’t anywhere near as troubled
as someone ought to have been when they were within moments of
being blown to smithereens.

She had allowed
herself minimum time so there was as little opportunity for her
emotions and survival instincts to overwhelm her as possible. And
anyway, whenever the fear snatched at her, she thought of Harley.
This will show you, big fella. Even you have never been this
close.

“It might sound
suicidal, but it isn’t really. All the data is being transmitted
and in sealed containers so it has a good chance of lasting as long
as possible. The camera is fitted with a special steel case and
padding and it probably won’t survive but think of the footage if
it does. They reckon it can survive being dropped from a hundred
feet, so maybe there will be something to show for it. But if not,
bad luck. All that is secondary anyway. I’m here for me. I have
this special suit and helmet but of course I can’t predict what
will happen to me and I don’t care. This is worth it. I always
wanted to stand on the edge of one of these things and watching it
happen and now I will. It’s worth it.”

It was also
stupid, but that was what she had been. Stupid, stupid, to chase
after blokes like Glen and believe in men like Harley Thyssen. They
put it over her, every time and it had to stop and this was the
only way to stop it. If she died, she died, but think of the
respect she would gain if she survived. It was worth it.

“That’s all,”
she said with a smile. “Enjoy the show.”

She got up and
swivelled the camera on its tripod to point into the crater.
Perfect. She quickly checked the other equipment and then walked to
the edge of the crater and looked down. Nothing was happening.

For the moment,
she kept the helmet tucked under her arm like a spare head. She
would put it on when necessary, but she wanted to see this with the
naked eye, for as long as she could, rather than through a visor.
This was going to be fantastic.

Harley had
lied. He had lied to her. He had lied to the world. He was setting
himself up to be the only man who could get it right, the top man,
king of the world, but he had rigged the results to do so. Just
another megalomaniac, convinced that what was right for him was
right for everyone. He probably had his reasons but she didn’t
care. She had placed her faith foolishly once more and it would
never, never happen again. That was all.

Something was
happening... First she felt the grip of nausea that she remembered
from that first time, and she seemed to lose consciousness for an
instant. She dropped onto one knee and almost pitched headfirst
into the crater. Her senses had shut down for an instant, then
recovered, and she knew it wasn’t fear and doubt. It was the
effect. Every instinct screamed at her now to run but she knew
there was nowhere to run to. Stay, her mind ordered, stay and do
this right.

She felt the
ground begin to shake under her feet and down in the crater, cracks
appeared. There was the illusion suddenly that she had fallen in
and was dropping toward the bottom of the chasm but it wasn’t
so—the depths were moving up to meet her. Through the cracks, she
saw glimpses of the fiery lava beneath and then the gases and smoke
and dust suddenly burst through and instantly filled the crater and
her world. She frantically got her head into the helmet and snapped
it into place, and by then was blinded by the cloud as it burst by
her. Then everything was a blur, and then it was gone. The final
sensation was flying through the air... It seemed she was spinning
like a top, around and around or over and over, and through her
visor she glimpsed the red hot ash cloud pursuing her down the
slope as her body tumbled just out of its searing grasp.

And her mind
screaming. “What do you think of this one, Harley!”

Like the first
amphibian crawling onto land, so she emerged into consciousness in
a slow uncertain fashion, with images and fragments that slowly
coalesced over what she understood to be a considerable length of
time.

Mostly, the
images were faces leaning close to hers, and white jackets, and
tubes, and silver instruments, and little flashing lights.

And all along,
the visage of Harley Thyssen appeared again and again and she
wanted to have a few words to him. ‘See what you made me do,
Harley, you lying bastard,’ she wanted to tell him. And maybe she
said it too, because when finally she snapped out of it, he was
there.

“Nurse, you
better have a look at this,” his gruff voice commanded from
somewhere outside her limited range of vision.

“Oh, yes,
Professor. I think she’s finally back with us.”

The nurse
leaned over and looked into her eyes.

“Gllllurrreck,”
Jami said to her.

“That’s right,
dear. You just take it easy. Do you have any pain?”

She remembered
that she had a body, but it didn’t seem to be there at the moment.
She was just a dismembered head on the pillow, looking upward. But,
because the nurse obviously understood gobbledygook perfectly, she
thought she’d better mention it.

“Nobble
bobbie,” she declared informatively..

“Yes. That’s
just effect of the painkillers. If you feel any pain, I can give
you something.”

“Nopin,” she
said. Nothing at all really. Obviously she was much worse than she
thought.

Then Thyssen
leaned over her. She would have spat in his eye but her mouth was
devoid of moisture.

“Dim wit,”
Thyssen said.

“Assole,” she
replied.

The clairvoyant
nurse immediately provided a plastic cup of pink fluid and it
refreshed her and she tried to keep from gulping it all down but
couldn’t... and Harley had moved out of range anyway.

She indulged
her exhausted eyelids a slow blink in which a long time must have
passed because Harley had transmuted into Felicity Campbell.