Engineman - Eric Brown [55]
The dwarf danced around the tank on his flashing silver legs, programming the computer, adjusting its leads. Finally he hauled open the half-metre thick hatch and withdrew the slide-bed. In a daze of anticipation Miguelino unzipped his silversuit, shrugged it from his shoulders and sat on the slide. Quiberon jacked the leads into his occipital console, and as each jack clunked home the Engineman slipped further from this reality. Quiberon and Sassoon laid him out on the bed and pushed him into the tank. The dwarf dogged the hatch and sequenced the monitoring computer.
A faint blue glow showed behind the observation plate in the hatch. Sassoon crouched beside the computer screen embedded in its flank, assessing the tank's performance, reliability and general running condition.
Hunter sat on a low stone shelf reserved for a coffin and waited. Quiberon watched both men nervously, his gaze darting from Hunter to Sassoon and back again. At last he summoned the nerve to say, "You're not KVO officials, are you? You won't turn me in?"
Sassoon was scribbling figures into a note-book.
Hunter decided to keep Quiberon sweating. "You've been hawking the flux for what... ten years? You must have made a small fortune by now, Monsieur Quiberon."
"I provide a service. I keep Enginemen sane."
"How much do you charge for thirty minutes?"
"Five hundred credits, no more."
Hunter pursed his lips. Quite reasonable, if the dwarf was to be believed. He took his wallet from his jacket and counted out five one hundred credit notes. He held them out to Quiberon.
"Here you are. I always pay for what I take."
Quiberon smiled with nervous relief. "No, please. Keep it. This one's on me."
"I said, I pay for what I take." Hunter dropped the credits on the stone slab between them. Quiberon was shaking too much to reach out and take the notes.
"Look," he said, his voice quivering, "if you aren't the KVO, who are you? What do you want?"
Hunter glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes had elapsed from the time Miguelino had entered the tank. He looked across at Sassoon. "Well, Mr Sassoon?"
His aide looked up, smiled. "I don't believe it. It's very near perfect. Ninety-five percent efficiency, no obvious mechanical deficiencies..."
"So it would appear that this is the one?"
"I'm sure it is, sir."
Hunter returned his attention to Quiberon. "Do you know what the penalty is for hawking flux-time, Monsieur Quiberon?"
The dwarf looked sick. "The bullet," he whispered.
"Tell me, do you believe in an afterlife?"
The dwarf shook his head.
"A word of advice - do so."
Quiberon stammered, "You can't turn me in! You've bought flux time! You can't-"
"My advice was general, Monsieur Quiberon, a recommendation to prepare your mind for the time perhaps years hence when you do eventually cast off this cruel illusion."
Hunter saw Sassoon glance up at him, then look away quickly, half-smiling at his boss's sick sense of humour.
"You must live in constant fear of being found out," Hunter said. "Constant fear of the bullet."
Quiberon swallowed. "I've always been careful. I've taken precautions, never taken risks. How... how did you find out?"
"I have my contacts," Hunter said. Kelly, his man on the Rim, had used Quiberon's services eight or nine years ago, back when the dwarf had had his tank installed in the sewer system below St Denis. It had not been difficult to locate Quiberon. Kelly had provided a detailed facial description, and there were few dwarfs as ugly as Quiberon.
"How would you like me to relieve you of the burden of worrying yourself about being discovered and facing the firing squad?"
"You can't take it-!"
"What do you make in a year, Monsieur Quiberon? Let's see... eight Enginemen every, what, two weeks? At five hundred each that's more than eight thousand credits per anum. That's quite a yearly salary,