Doctor Who_ Transit - Ben Aaronovitch [31]
'History happens,' said the Doctor. 'Even when I'm not around.'
'Only by accident,' said Kadiatu as the room filled up with the aroma of coffee.
Reykjavik
Ming the Merciless ate cod sushi and pickled herring in a small bistro off Constitution Avenue. The bastard Rodriguez, the acting Transport Minister, had invited her for an informal discussion about the current 'situation' vis-d-vis the transit network.
'Situation' being politician-speak for embarrassing catastrophe. 'Informal' meaning secret, unofficial, deniable. Not too secret though, couldn't be in a venue like the bistro. It meant that the politician wanted to be seen talking to her, there's Rodriguez getting on top of the situation but discreetly.
Rodriguez, people's deputy for a safe seat in Sao Paulo, had a wide sallow face and just enough epicanthic fold to bring in the expatriate vote. He was dressed in this year's conservative kaftan, black worsted thrown over his left shoulder. Black because he was officially in mourning, with a white arm band to placate the sensibilities of the Japanese expats that made up a third of his constituency.
Two mutually exclusive colours for death. Part of the fragile global consensus that grew up after the war. Ming as ninth-generation Bradford Cantonese knew all about that. They used to have kiddie progs about it on English Two. Hi kids, ever notice how everyone is different? Hadn't been as many channels then, about fifteen or so, when the entertainment consoles were all matt black and Japanese.
'You're sure about this?'
'You saw the data,' said Ming but she doubted he had. People like Rodriguez had other people to look at data for them.
He shrugged. 'Data can be manufactured.'
'The source was pure.'
'My dear Ming,' said Rodriguez smoothly, 'there's always doubt about data, especially these days.'
'I was the source,' said Ming. 'Something, nature unknown, entered into the system via the Stunnel gateway.'
'And killed the President?'
'It was jumping the real space between two gateways. It may not have been aware that the people were there.' She could see that that really annoyed Rodriguez, the idea that the President wasn't important.
'You said this thing was an anomalous power surge.'
'That's what it looks like.'
'You keep talking about it as if it's alive.'
'It might be,' said Ming, enjoying Rodriguez's discomfort. 'Who knows?'
'So,' said Rodriguez, 'what are you going to do about it?'
'Nothing at the moment.'
'Why not?'
'I'm only the senior controller,' said Ming, 'I haven't got the authority.'
'You're the de facto Director-General. My department would give you full support.'
'I want more.'
'Such as?'
'I want to be appointed Director-General, I want a clearance upgrade as high as yours, I want full control of the contract KGB and I want access to military equipment.'
'Anything else?'
'Yeah,' said Ming. 'I want the pay rise backdated.'
The Stop
Zamina found that she wasn't scared of the Dixies at all, not now, after watching Benny stroll casually in and sass up their boss. After living in fear of the gangbangers' casual violence since she was small, seeing them up close was liberating.
Benny was talking serious biz to Billy Boy and the amazing thing was that Billy Boy was listening to her. Inside, the Dixie Reb clubhouse became just that, a series of rooms cluttered with entertainment decks, fast food and shiny things with sharp edges. What Roberta always called 'boy-things'. There were some girls around, mostly underage, wearing bobby sox and too much make-up. They hung around the edges watching Benny with stupid eyes. Zamina figured them for boy-things too, part of the clubhouse furniture.
'You want to hang casual but tough,' Benny had told them as they went in. 'Got to show no sign of weakness.' So Zamina and Roberta took their cues from Benny, easing themselves on to a niton sofabed and paying attention.
It was an education watching Benny work Billy Boy. The way she put it the scheme didn't sound political at all. More like a convoluted scam to grab more