Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [161]
“Godsdamnit,” hissed Lemuel in irritation and fear. “What is going on?”
“There’s something in the air . . .” murmured Isaac, and his voice petered out as he stared blindly up.
To cap the tension, Derkhan and Lemuel, who had met the previous day, had quickly decided they despised each other. They did their best to ignore one another.
“How did you get the address?” asked Isaac, and Lemuel shucked his shoulders irritably.
“Connections, ’Zaac, contacts, and corruption. How d’you think? Dr. Barbile vacated her own rooms a couple of days ago and has since been seen at this less salubrious location. It’s only about three streets away from her old house, though. The woman has no imagination. Hey . . .” He batted Isaac’s arm and pointed across the gloomy street. “There’s our man.”
Opposite them, a vast figure tugged free of the shadows and lumbered towards them. He glowered at Isaac and Derkhan, before nodding at Lemuel in the most absurdly jaunty fashion.
“All right, Pigeon?” he said, too loud. “What we up to, then?”
“Voice down, man,” said Lemuel tersely. “What you carrying?”
The massive man pushed his finger across his lips to show he understood. He held open one side of his jacket, displaying two enormous flintlock pistols. Isaac started slightly at their size. Both he and Derkhan were armed, but neither with any such cannons. Lemuel nodded approvingly at the sight.
“Right. Probably won’t be needed, but . . . y’know. Right. Don’t talk.” The big man nodded. “Don’t hear either, right? You have no ears tonight.” The man nodded again. Lemuel turned to Isaac and Derkhan. “Listen. You know what you want to ask the geezer. Wherever possible, we’re just shadows. But we have reason to think the militia are interested in this, and that means we can’t fuck about. If she’s not forthcoming, we’re giving her a helpful push, right?”
“Is that gangsterese for torture?” hissed Isaac. Lemuel looked at him coldly.
“No. And don’t fucking preach at me: you’re paying for this. We don’t have time to arse around, so I’m not going to let her arse around. Any problems?” There was no answer. “Good. Wardock Street is down here to the right.”
They did not pass any other late-night walkers as they picked their way along the backstreets. They walked variously: Lemuel’s sidekick stolidly and without fear, seemingly unaffected by the ambient nightmare quality in the air; Lemuel himself with many glances into dark doorways; and Isaac and Derkhan with a nervous, miserable haste.
They halted at Barbile’s door on Wardock Street. Lemuel turned and indicated for Isaac to go forward, but Derkhan pushed to the front.
“I’ll do it,” she whispered furiously. The others fell back. When they stood half out of sight at the edge of the doorway, Derkhan turned and pulled the bell cord.
For a long time, nothing happened. Then, gradually, footsteps slowly descended stairs and approached the door. They halted just beyond it, and there was silence. Derkhan waited, hushing the others with her hands. Eventually a voice called out from behind the door.
“Who’s that?”
Magesta Barbile sounded utterly fearful.
Derkhan spoke softly and quickly.
“Dr. Barbile, my name’s Derkhan. We need to speak to you very urgently.”
Isaac glanced around him to see if any of the lights in the street were coming on. So far they seemed unobserved.
From behind the door, Magesta Barbile was being difficult.
“I . . . I’m not sure about that . . .” she said. “It’s not really a good time . . .”
“Dr. Barbile . . . Magesta . . .” said Derkhan quietly. “You’re going to have to open this door. We can help you. Just open the fucking door. Now.”
There was another moment of dithering, then Magesta Barbile unlocked the door and pushed it open a crack. Derkhan was about to seize the moment by pushing past her into the house, when she started and stood quite still.