The Peripheral

111

Netherton walked around the black limousine, their transport to Farringdon and the reason Ash was dressed that way. Built in 2029, she’d informed him, the ZIL, the last off the assembly line, had never been a part of Lev’s father’s collection, but his grandfather’s personal vehicle, dating from when he’d lived in this house. Lowbeer, apparently, had opted to use it now.

Its bodywork reminded him of Flynne’s new dress, at once dull and very faintly lustrous. What few bits weren’t that peculiar black were stainless steel, beadblasted to nonreflectivity: the oversized wheels, and the broad and utterly minimalist grille, looking as though it had been laser-sliced off a loaf of ZIL grille-stuff. The hood was only fractionally longer than the rear deck, both of which could easily be imagined as tennis courts for the use of rather large homunculi. It had no rear window whatever, which gave him the sense that it had turned up its collar. The gravitas of its imminently thuggish presentation was remarkable, he thought. Perhaps that was why Lowbeer had chosen it, though he couldn’t see the sense in that, particularly. Curious about the interior, he leaned forward.

“Don’t touch it,” Ash said, behind him. “You’d be electrocuted.”

He turned. Met her double stare from beneath the patent bill. “Seriously?”

“It’s like the pram. They had trust issues. Still do.”

He took a step back. “Why did she want this one? Hardly in character for me, and certainly not for Annie. If I were really attending, this evening, I’d arrive in a cab.”

“You are attending, this evening. Otherwise I wouldn’t be gotten up this way.”

“Without an agenda, I mean.”

“When was it you were last without one?”

Netherton sighed.

“I imagine,” said Ash, “that she’s decided to make a point. This will be recognized, absolutely, as belonging to Lev’s grandfather. Daedra’s security, whatever that may consist of, will certainly know that it emerged from this address. Any pretext that you aren’t associated with the Zubovs will end, upon our arrival. Possibly she sees advantage in that. There’s usually some degree of advantage in underlining one’s association with klept. Disadvantages too, of course.” She considered him. “Suit’s not bad.”

Netherton looked down at the black suit she’d had made for him. Looked back up. “Is it black because the occasion requires it, or because you ordered it?”

“Both,” said Ash, a distant herd of something or other choosing that instant to transit her forehead, what was visible of it below the bill, making it appear as though a cloud of restless foreboding were lodged beneath her hat.

“Will you wait for us, there?”

“We aren’t allowed to park within two kilometers,” she said. “When you’re ready to go, they’ll call us. Though Lowbeer will already have done, I’m sure.”

“When do we leave?” He glanced up at the Gobiwagen.

“Ten minutes. Need to put Burton in the trunk.”

“I’ll use the toilet,” he said, starting for the gangway. And check to see that the bar’s still locked, he thought, certain as he was that it would be.