Inherit the Earth - Brian Stableford [66]
“And you think Conrad Helier went to Ahasuerus in search of a similar deal?” Diana said, picking up the point which he shouldn’t have let fall. “You think he might be still alive, and that if he is, that’s where Ahasuerus comes in.”
“I don’t think anything,” Madoc said, wishing that he could sound more convincing, “but if there’s some kind of interesting link between Ahasuerus and Helier, that would be a candidate. It’s impossible to say—Ahasuerus is stitched up very tight indeed. They’re very keen on privacy. It’s partly a hangover from the days when they faced a lot of hostility because of their founder’s reputation, but it’s more than just a habit. Who knows how many famous men might be lurking in the vaults, sleeping their way to immortality because they were born too early to make it while awake? I’d be willing to bet that there wouldn’t be one in ten that the Eliminators would consider worthy of immortality.”
For once, Diana had no reply ready. She seemed to be thinking over the implications of this intriguing item of urban folklore, which obviously hadn’t come her way before. It hadn’t come Madoc’s way either, but the Old Lady had a long memory.
It was perhaps as well, Madoc thought, that Diana had finally fallen silent. There was work to be done, and if she intended to play her part she’d need to keep her head.
Madoc stopped the car, then checked the deserted street and its glassless windows very carefully, searching for signs of movement or occupation. There was no sign that anything was amiss. At night there would have been rats, cats, and dogs roaming around, but at noonday those kinds of scavengers stayed out of sight.
He reached under his seat to pick up the bag he’d brought from the apartment, opening it briefly to pull out a couple of the items he’d stashed within it.
“Are we here?” Diana asked—and then, without waiting for an answer, added: “Is that a crowbar?” Obviously she’d had her mind on higher things while he’d been getting the stuff together.
“No,” he said, “and yes. That is, no, we still have a couple of blocks to walk, on tiptoe—and yes, it’s a crowbar. Sometimes scanners and slashcards are second best to brute force. You do know how to tiptoe, don’t you?”
“I can be as quiet as you,” she assured him, “but it seems silly to tiptoe in broad daylight.”
“Just go carefully,” Madoc said, with a slight sigh, “and carry this.” He gave her a flamecutter, refusing to listen to her protest that it was at least three times as heavy as the crowbar and twice as heavy as whatever remained in the bag.
Madoc got out of the car and closed the door quietly. Diana did likewise. He set off along the rubble-littered pavement, treading as carefully as he could. She followed, matching his studied quietness.
When they got to the particular ruin that he was looking for, Madoc set about examining its interior with scrupulous patience. There were no obvious signs of recent gantzing on the crumbling walls, but a host of tiny details inside the shell revealed to Madoc’s forewarned eye that this was not the rubble heap it pretended to be. In a corner of the room that was furthest away from the street he found the head of a flight of stone steps leading down into what had been a cellar, and once he’d eased aside the charred planks that were blocking the way down it was easy enough to see that the door at the bottom was perfectly solid. When he’d tiptoed down to it he found that it had two locks, one of which was electronic and one of which was crudely mechanical. Madoc put the crowbar aside for the moment and set to work with a scanner.
It took two minutes of wizardry to release the electronic lock, and five of patient leverage to dislodge the screws holding the mechanical lock.