The City & the City - China Mieville [75]
“Even a dig like Bol Ye’an?”
“You mean under foreign direction? Sure. The Canadians don’t technically own any of it; they just have some handling and cataloguing rights. Plus the kudos they get from writing up, and a warm glow. And dibs on museum tours, of course. The Canadians are happy as Larry about the US blockade, believe me. Want to see a very vivid green? Tell an American archaeologist you work in Ul Qoma. Have you seen Ul Qoma’s laws on antiquities export?” He closed his hands, fingers interlocking like a trap. “Everyone who wants to work on Ul Qoma, or Besźel, let alone if they’re into Precursor Age, ends up here if they can get here.”
“Mahalia was an American archaeologist…” Dhatt said.
“Student,” Bowden said. “When she finished her PhD she’d have had a harder time staying.”
I was standing, glancing into his study. “Could I …?” I indicated in.
“I … sure.” He was embarrassed at the tiny space. It was if anything even more cramped with the tat of antiquity than his living room. His desk was its own archaeology of papers, computer cables, a street-finder map of Ul Qoma, battered and several years old. Amid the mess of papers were some in a strange and very ancient script, neither Illitan nor Besź, pre-Cleaved. I could not read any of it.
“What’s this?”
“Oh …” He rolled his eyes. “It arrived yesterday morning. I still get crank mail. Since Between. Stuff that people put together and say is in the script of Orciny. I’m supposed to decode it for them. Maybe the poor sods really believe it’s something.”
“Can you decode that one?”
“Are you kidding? No. It doesn’t mean anything.” He closed the door. “No news of Yolanda?” he said. “This is seriously worrying.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Dhatt. “Missing Persons are on it. They’re very good. We’re working closely with them.”
“We absolutely have to find her, Officers. I’m … This is crucial.”
“Do you have any idea who might have any grievance against Yolanda?”
“Yolanda? My God no, she’s sweet, I can’t think of anyone. Mahalia was a bit different. I mean … Mahalia was … what happened to her was utterly appalling. Appalling. She was smart, very smart, and opinionated, and brave, and it isn’t quite so … What I’m saying is I can imagine Mahalia getting people angry. She did that. It’s the kind of person she was, and I mean that as a compliment. But there was always that fear that Mahalia might one day piss off the wrong person.”
“Who might she have pissed off?”
“I’m not talking specifics, Senior Detective, I have no idea. We didn’t have very much contact, Mahalia and I. I hardly knew her.”
“Small campus,” I said. “Surely you all knew everyone.”
“True. But honestly I avoided her. We hadn’t spoken for a long time. We didn’t get off to a very auspicious start. Yolanda, though, I know. And she’s nothing like that. She’s not as clever, maybe, but I cannot think of a single person who doesn’t like her, nor why anyone would want to do anything to her. Everyone’s horrified. Including the locals who work there.”
“Would they have been devastated about Mahalia, too?” I said.
“I doubt any of them knew her, to be frank.”
“One of the guards seemed to. Made a point of asking us about her. About Mahalia. I thought he might be her boyfriend or something.”
“One of the guards? Absolutely not. Sorry, that sounded a bit peremptory. What I mean is that I’d be amazed. Knowing what I do of Mahalia, I mean.”
“Which isn’t much, you said.”
“No. But, you know, you pick up on who’s doing what, which students do what. Some of them—Yolanda’s one—hang out with the Ul Qoman staff, but not Mahalia. You will tell me if you find anything out about Yolanda? You have to find her.