Un Lun Dun - China Mieville [67]
“Wait,” Murgatroyd said quickly. “I’m not sure what evidence you have, but we can’t put this into the public domain just yet.”
“But Jones isn’t just anyone.”
“I must insist.”
“It’s alright, Deeba,” Jones said. “I just want to get you where you’re going. I don’t know what’s going on and, right now, I don’t need to. I’ll find out if the time comes.”
“But why?” said Deeba quietly to Murgatroyd. “D’you think I’m wrong?”
“On the contrary, Miss Resham,” he said quietly. “On the contrary, Minister Rawley’s sure you’re right.
“But things have gone pretty far already. We need to work out what we’re going to do. We have to put together a strategy. So to do that, we’re going to meet someone who knows…the person you’ve expressed concern about…better than anyone. Who’ll be in the best position to really know what’s going on, to take a look at your evidence, and to decide what to do about it. Someone who’s going to be even angrier than you at having been misled.”
“Mortar?” said Deeba.
“Better than that.”
Rosa took the bus between shadowed patches of abcity.
“So…I told you not to worry about your family panicking, didn’t I?” Jones said.
“Yeah,” she said cautiously, remembering their reactions on her return. “I’m still not hanging around, though. The Prophs can take me back again.”
“Got all the way here just to pass on this information?” He shook his head. “I take my hat off, girl. You’ll have to tell me how you got over. And you’re probably sensible. That phlegm effect does have its costs. Doesn’t matter to one like me, no intention of going back, but you…” His voice petered out.
Jones pointed out over smoke-stained landscape like a smudged map. “Look at that smogmire,” he said. He handed Deeba his telescope. Peering through it into those boroughs where Smog filled the streets, she could see dim shapes moving like malevolent fish below the smoky surface. “All kinds of things mutating into life in there,” he said.
“Where are we going?” Hemi said.
“Yeah, where are we going?” said Deeba. “There’s the Pons Absconditus.” She pointed. She wondered how come it was there, when its ends were also in several other places.
There was a pause before Murgatroyd answered.
“We’re going…nowhere in particular,” he said. “To a little interstice between several areas. Hidden. Careless talk costs lives. We can’t risk this getting back to the Smog. And until we know exactly what you know, we can’t risk it getting back to…the subject of your discussions, either.”
“We’re close,” Jones said. “Time we got out of sight.” He rang the bell, and the bus descended.
It wove between buildings, hissing as it let out its gas and the balloon went flaccid, until its wheels touched down and it drove earthbound. They were in a deserted part of the abcity. There was no one on the streets, and no lights in any windows.
“Where is everyone?” Hemi said. “Is this emptish? A stopover?”
“No, these are empty,” Jones said. “The Smog took over only a few streets away. It’s not safe.”
“So why we here?” Deeba said, alarmed.
“People don’t come here now—that’s sort of the point,” Jones said.
“We mustn’t be observed,” said Murgatroyd. “So long as we’re quick, this is perfect.”
“No one would dare come here,” Hemi said to Deeba. He pointed down an alley they passed. At its end was a wall of Smog. Deep in its wavering filaments, predatory shadows moved.
48
Spilling Certain Beans
The bus puttered to a halt beside a church made of ancient, broken personal stereos and speakers.
“Can you wait?” Murgatroyd said to Rosa and Conductor Jones. “I and…our contact, may need a lift to the bridge to speak to the Propheseers. And Miss Resham, of course.”
“I really think they should come,” Deeba started to say, but Murgatroyd ignored her. He beckoned Deeba and Hemi, who followed him into the dark streets by the side of the moil church.
Deeba looked back again doubtfully at Jones.
“Go on,” he said gently as she went. “We’ll see you in a bit.”
Murgatroyd led Deeba and Hemi past an ancient-looking pile of rubbish bags and trash into a concrete cul-de-sac.