The Blizzard
CHAPTER SIX
THEY had been driving for almost an hour before Jack realised the carriage was stolen.
But when asked, his companion made a waving gesture and smiled as if he had been given a compliment, muttered about a ‘fair exchange’ in the cabaret club.
Without his cap and facial hair it was now very obvious that he was no policeman. Jack wondered why the hotel staff, and he also, had been taken in by so childish a disguise. Layers of fat gently cascaded down to his collar and blue eyes were set in smooth white cushions of flesh. The man had skin like peaches and long eyelashes like a girls, although with his tubby cheeks he looked more like a jolly Buddha or giant newborn.
With a serene expression which Jack found immensely irritating, the fake policeman carelessly switched the reigns of the carriage as though they had only a ceremonial function. They had talked little as they drove out of the city. The policeman grinned and nodded with mindless enthusiasm at each question put to him, saying things like “Oh, yes” or “Oh, I’m sure we will” or making meaningless remarks about the weather.
Trying to dismiss his anger, Jack looked up from the cab’s array of switches and dials to the route up ahead. Carriages, traps and single horsemen travelled in a separate lane to the slow-moving floats and bicycles. Electric floats with their limited battery life were not permitted in the fast lane as their charge invariably ran flat, causing horrendous tailbacks.
Gazing back at the city, the shrinking buildings were foregrounded by the steam plumes from the hydroplant on the outskirts. Although he would not admit it, he felt the cold sweat of fear run down his chest.
Was this it? Was he finally being kidnapped? The events of the last few hours had been enough to shake him out of his stupor. He had fled the man who had been charged with bringing him home because of a childish reaction to his injured hand. His bracelet had been tampered with and he had come close to death at the hotel, maybe even execution… and now seemingly rescued by a fancy-dressed lunatic. The strange procession of events was like the worst of his Nectar dreams.
The horses grunted in relief as the autobahn began to slope downwards, giving the carriage its own impetus.
Jack tried to once more to interrogate the coachman but found his mouth dry. “Tell me again, why are we going to the port?”
“My dear boy, we have a very tight schedule to keep,” the driver swung round to face him, not once looking back at the road while he spoke. “The vessel simply won’t wait for us. We need to be there on time. The weather report is less than fair for the next day and the master will be keen to depart.”
His voice was breezy and melodic, delivering the wrong emphasis to words as if not fully clasping their meaning. But the response raised more questions than it answers.
“Look here,” Jack could feel the anger rising in his stomach, “You say we need to get out of Berlin. Now you say we’re getting on a boat. I refuse to go anywhere until you tell me what is going on”
“Dear boy don’t be obtuse. We need to get out of the country quick, quick, quick. Your thingamabob – your charm – your bracelet! You’ve been flashing it all over the city. It’ll be the easiest thing for you to be found. In any case, it takes a long time to get to our destination so the sooner we set off the better.”
“Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
“Didn’t I say? Your father asked me to.”
Jack gripped the handle next to him almost throwing himself off the carriage on to the road. This lunatic was working for his father and was right now delivering him into his hands. He had not escaped at all.
“You mean you’ve been with those men all that time. I’m not going to Edinburgh! I don’t care what you do to me.”
“Darling boy, what on earth is the matter?”
“You work for my father, just like those men!”
“No – well yes I suppose I do. Now listen, I see why you’re upset. There has been a bit of a reorganisation at your father’s offices.”
“UisgeCorp,” Jack was sceptical, “You’re talking about the world’s biggest companies. Why haven’t I heard about it?”
“Your father and your uncle have fallen out. Quite a major falling out as it happens...”
“That’s absolute rubbish. Anyway he’s not my uncle. We just call him that ‘cos dad’s known him since they were kids or something.”
“Well, there’s definitely a problem.”
“What’s Strang done now?”
“Actually, it’s your father who’s to bla- Ahem, who appears to have instigated this dispute. Don’t believe it,” the coachman pointed to the moulded dashboard, “You know how to use this machine?”
Of course, he could use the teleprinter. Children leaned wepcode along with reading and writing. Jack could reel off the mantras he had learned at school: a dash is equal to three dots; the space between parts of a letter is equal to a dot; the space between two letters is equal to three… and so on.
Like most carriages, the police cab had a battery under its dashboard, which could be plugged into the grid while the horses fed. Although not powerful enough to drive the wheels, it could run the transmission equipment, operate night lights and sometimes even a rudimentary heating system. Jack twiddled the knobs turning into the station of the Greater Berlin Landpolizei, before tapping a message using the ebonised key.
Dash-dot/Dot/Dot-dash-dash/Dot-dot-dot.
A request to the station operator to send that day’s bulletins. The response came within a minute. Slowly the printer began to squeeze out a narrow strip of paper. The stream of unbroken letters, which summarised in two or three word-phrases, the summaries of events from across those countries which were still known to the world. BERLINCRASHAVOID/HANNOVERSHIPPINGLANEOPEN/MOREUNRESTWASHTINGTON/AZIRMOVESUAE… the last story about the purchase of a promising chess player by a leading Middle Eastern emir. But something was wrong. Jack saw there was no mention of his father’s company, no mention of hydro power at all. The official reports were always heavily censored. But no mention at all was bad news. It meant UsigeCorp advocates had been busy wiring and airphoning broadcasters, warning them to drop any reference to the corporation until the crisis had passed.
The lack of news was troubling. Even Jack with his sheltered, privileged upbringing knew it was only the publishers of pamphlets or those who got their hands on unlicensed Wep equipment that dared go against the groupthink on censorship.
Perhaps there was something in the coachman’s claim? But it was still not conclusive. His companion spoke again, seemingly oblivious to Jack’s internal conflict.
“Anyway, you can trust me. We’re all part of the same family. I’m Cousin Brian’s son. That makes us second cousins, once removed, I think.”
“Cousin Brian’s from Dumfries and I thought he married a black woman?
“Adopted, dear boy. Dear mother and pop – they took me in, clothed me, and gave me the best education money could buy. Bless them both. Anyway, your father asked me to keep an eye on you before he… became too busy. It was fortunate I ran into you.”
Again his companion’s hands loosened their grip on the reins. But the mares ahead seemed to be driving themselves, refusing to deviate from the painted lines on the road despite the limited assistance from the driver.
“Yeah, very fortunate,” Jack said without conviction. “But what does that old man falling out with my father have to do with anything. And who were those men that came to the school if they weren’t sent by my father?”
“No idea cousin. Imposters, maybe? But understand this, young Jack: your father is not a good person to be around at this present time. He has been distracted by this business and may not be thinking straight as he tries to track your uncle–”
“He’s not my uncle. I never liked the guy – he was always on at me to study.”
“He was concerned that you did well and succeeded at school. More than your father ever did, I believ
e.”
“What the hell do you know about it?”
“You sound as if you wouldn’t mind your uncle dead.”
“I keep telling you he isn’t my- Hang on, if you’re Cousin Brian’s son – how come you don’t have a Scottish accent?”
“Oh, lots of travelling. Here, there and everywhere. Much like yourself dear boy. Now listen: I’ve been told keep an eye on you. Last thing he said was to ‘Keep an eye out for my Jack. Make sure he stays safe and brushes his teeth!’ Anyway we must chop, chop. Our first stop is to sort out a replacement for these-”
The coachman dropped the reigns entirely and tapped at the red plastic band around his own right wrist. Jack felt the absence of his own bracelet, worn since he was a child. Without it he was naked, exposed and, worse, without identity. How could he prove who he was, travel or pay for things? Even a simple task such as walking down the street would be impossible; the hip-level scanning gates in most civilised cities would quickly spot a “stray” without a bracelet. In some city shops, the doors wouldn’t even open without checking first if you had credit enough to buy. Only criminals or the most destitute went without a bracelet.
The road was clear as they headed northwards. The horses maintained their straight line, despite the driver’s seeming indifference. Everything seemed unclear and happening too quickly. After a long silence, a torrent of worry flooded from Jack’s buzzing brain.
“Look if we’re related – and I can’t possibly believe we are – why didn’t you say so earlier? It would have saved me getting felt up by the hotel security and nearly getting arrested for murder. And how did you find me at all? Not even those men could locate me. And why were you dressed as a woman earlier on?”
The coachman, who was now trying to untangle the loosened reins, emitted the smallest of sighs and then turned around to face the teenager.
“Before I answer you,” he said, “I think I should point out that I am very mysterious. Yes, I don’t hesitate to use the word. Although I appear to you as a normal, my real job is quite secretive. All very hush-hush, making sure important people are kept safe. Can’t really disclose too much about my methods but should it reassure you, then out of all the people your father could have chosen, I was the top man for this job.
“I’d hoped to help you without being seen. When we met earlier I thought it best if I didn’t travail you with too much information. You already seemed a bit tremulous –”
“Hey!”
“But after this hotel incident, I thought it proper I introduced myself.”
“And why were you dressed as a woman before?”
“Pardon?”
“In the cabaret. Why were you wearing that dress and wig?”
“Oh that! One of my many disguises. Now listen to me, my dear cousin. Understand that it will do no good to chitchat about this and that. Your uncle’s life is in danger and your father is at risk of committing a mortal wrong. Though he has charged me with your safekeeping, I believe it is our greater mission to saver you uncle and stop your father from the folly of his anger.”
A thin layer of sweat cloaked the backs of the horses as they continued their orderly canter. Confused and stunned by what he had been told, Jack managed to speak one further question.
“Say, what’s your name anyway?”
“Zarius, my dear boy. It’s Zarius.”