Doctor Who_ Corpse Marker - Chris Boucher [77]
‘Thank you, Layly,’ Pitter said firmly.
For the first time Landerchild looked to the Chairholder.
Their eyes locked briefly and then Landerchild deferred with a polite inclination of the head and a small smile. When he glanced back across the table Uvanov caught his eye and allowed him to see a hint of amusement. He thought, at least a third of the people round this table hate your arrogant guts and you probably don’t think that matters. But it does matter. And it puts them on my side and you probably don’t think that matters either. But it will matter. You’ll see how much it matters, especially you will see how much it matters.
‘That day at the central service facility,’ Pitter was saying, ‘the Anti-Robot Front mounted their most effective attack to date.
We’re all concerned to know why that happened. Has something changed, Kiy?’
Same voice, same type, but weaker, Uvanov thought and said, ‘Firstmaster Chairholder, we think that it may not have been the ARF. Our best intelligence -’
‘Hah!’ Landerchild snorted loudly but said nothing.
‘Our best intelligence,’ Uvanov repeated pointedly and went on, ‘suggests that there is a new organisation probably operating directly out of the Sewerpits. We think it may be quasi-religious.’
‘Quasi-religious?’
‘They call themselves the Tarenists. Until now Tarenism has been one of a hundred fringe cults basically hostile to robots.
Harmless. Non-violent. Ineffectual. Cults like Tarenism appear from who knows where? They disappear just as mysteriously.’
Pitter frowned. ‘Until now?’
‘Tarenism seems to have been growing in popularity.’
‘Why?’
‘We don’t know.’
‘What do they believe in, exactly?’
‘We don’t know that either.’
‘It sounds as though you’ve found yourselves a convenient scapegoat,’ Landerchild remarked.
‘Hah!’ Uvanov deliberately mimicked the noise Landerchild had made. ‘We’re not looking for scapegoats,’ he said, delicately stressing the first word. ‘We’re looking for explanations.’ Again the delicate stress on the we’re. ‘The Company needs solutions from us, not excuses.’ He stared hard at Landerchild. ‘Or don’t you think so, Firstmaster?’ he challenged.
Landerchild glanced towards Pitter. ‘If I may, Chairholder,’
he said and then without waiting for a reply said, ‘You don’t know who they are or what they believe in but you know enough to blame the... the Tarenists, was it? You know enough to blame the Tarenists for the debacle. Why is that, Captain?’
Uvanov reached into the pocket of his tastefully plain but perfectly tailored tunic and withdrew the corpse markers. The problem for people like Landerchild was that they underestimated everyone, especially people like him. It was almost too easy to outflank them. ‘They carry these.’ He tossed them on to the table. ‘To identify themselves. Or to mark their victims.’
‘Which?’ Pitter asked as he was passed one to examine.
‘Both, Chairholder.’
‘So these were found on the bodies of your dead heroes, were they?’ Landerchild asked casually.
You know they weren’t, don’t you, Uvanov realised, and decided to spend a little more time finding the spy the aristo had in place. It was probably Cailio Techlan. Pity. ‘They were found on the victims of the second attack,’ he said and watched the surprise round the table. Landerchild looked surprised too but there was something not entirely convincing about it. He would have to assume that Landerchild already knew about the incident at the docking bays. Got to be careful, Kiy, he thought. Be sure you know who’s underestimating whom. How far ahead of the game is he? He has all the contacts, all the power. He knows everything you know and he knew it before you knew it. He thinks you’re dirt under his feet. You are dirt under his feet.
Once again confidence surged through Uvanov, warming him like hot wine. I don’t care, he exulted. I am Kiy Uvanov and I know you, aristo. I am your future. You are my past. You’re not going to stop me. You don’t even know I’m coming for you.
‘A second attack?’ Landerchild’s monotone outrage was chilling.