The City & the City - China Mieville [79]
“What about you?”
“I’m fucked, is what. She’s gone, so I’m gone too. Ul Qoma can go fuck itself and so can Besźel and so can Or-fucking-ciny. This is my good-bye. Can you hear the sound of wheels? In a minute this phone is going out the fucking window when we’re done and say-onara. This call’s a good-bye present, for her sake.”
By the last words he was whispering. When I realised he had rung off I tried to call him back but his number was blocked.
***
I RUBBED MY EYES for long seconds, too long. I scribbled notes on the hotel-headed paper, nothing I would ever look at again, just trying to organise thoughts. I listed people. I saw the clock and did a time-zone calculation. I dialled a long-distance number on the hotel phone.
“Mrs. Geary?”
“Who is this?”
“Mrs. Geary, this is Tyador Borlú. Of the Besźel police.” She said nothing. “We … May I ask how Mr. Geary is?” I walked barefoot to the window.
“He’s alright,” she said finally. “Angry.” She was very careful. She could not decide about me. I pulled the heavy curtains back a little, looked out. No matter that it was the small hours, there were a few figures visible in the street, as there always are. Now and then a car passed. So late, it was harder to tell who was local and who foreign and so unseeable in the day: the colours of clothes were obscured by streetlamp light and the huddled quick night-walking blurred body language.
“I wanted to say again how sorry I was about what happened and to make sure you were alright.”
“Have you got anything to tell me?”
“You mean have we caught who did this to your daughter? I’m sorry, Mrs. Geary, we have not. But I wanted to ask you …” I waited, but she did not hang up, nor say anything. “Did Mahalia ever tell you she was seeing anyone here?”
She only made some sound. When I had waited several seconds I continued. “Do you know Yolanda Rodriguez? And why was it the Besź nationalists Mr. Geary was looking for? When he breached. Mahalia lived in Ul Qoma.”
She made the sound and I realised that she was crying. I opened my mouth but could only listen to her. Too late as I woke up more I realised that I should perhaps have called from another phone, if my and Corwi’s suspicions were right. Mrs. Geary did not break the connection, so after a little while I said her name.
“Why are you asking me about Yolanda?” she said finally. She had pulled her voice together. “Of course I met her, she’s Mahalia’s friend. Is she …?”
“We’re just trying to get hold of her. But…”
“Oh my God, is she missing? Mahalia confided in her. Is that why …? Is she …?”
“Please don’t, Mrs. Geary. I promise you there’s no evidence of anything untoward; she may have just taken a few days away. Please.” She started again but controlled herself.
“They hardly spoke to us on that flight,” she said. “My husband woke up near the end and realised what had happened.”
I said, “Mrs. Geary, was Mahalia involved with anyone here? That you know of? In Ul Qoma, I mean?”
“No.” She sighed it. “You’re thinking ‘How would her mother know?’ but I would. She didn’t tell me details, but she …” She gathered herself. “There was someone who hung around with her, but she didn’t like him that way. Said it was too complicated.”
“What was his name?”
“Don’t you think I’d have told you? I don’t know. She met him through politics, I think.”
“You mentioned Qoma First.”
“Oh, my girl made them all mad.” She laughed a bit. “She got people sore on all sides of it. And even