The Peripheral

70

The kitchen was fragrant with the blini Lev was making. “She’s helping you with the stub,” Netherton said. “She told me.” Rain was falling in the garden, on the artificial-looking leaves of the hostas. Did thylacines dislike rain? Neither Gordon nor Tyenna was in sight.

Lev looked up from the segmented iron pan. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“The appeal of continua. Or of collaborating with her. She’s already gotten us into the White House.”

“That would be what, then, the first Gonzales administration?”

“No direct contact. Yet. But we’re close. No one I know of has ever penetrated a stub this efficiently. She knows where the pivots are, the moving parts. How it works.”

“Is that what she offered you, after that first meeting?”

“It’s reciprocal,” Lev said, removing the pan from the element. “She assists me, we protect Burton and his sister, you help her with the Aelita business, Daedra, whatever that is.” Using a spatula, he began to transfer the blini to two waiting plates. “Salmon, or caviar?”

“Is the caviar real?”

“You’d want my grandfather, for caviar from a sturgeon.”

“I wouldn’t, actually.”

“I’ve had it,” Lev said. “I couldn’t tell the difference. This is entirely its equal.”

“I will, thank you.”

Lev tidily burdened each blintze with sour cream and caviar.

“Ossian’s taken delivery of a Bentley,” Netherton said. “Drove itself in from Richmond Hill. Like a silver-gray steam iron, windowless, six wheels. Hideous. Parked by Ash’s tepee. What’s that about?”

“Executive transport,” Lev said. “Early jackpot. They need to disassemble something, so they’ll do it inside. Assemblers might be released.”

“The buggy?”

Lev looked up from the blini. “Who told you about that?”

“Ossian pointed it out to me, when we were waiting for your brother’s peripheral. He didn’t mention disassembling it. But later I saw him pushing it through the garage, and Lowbeer told me she wants its weapons.”

“He didn’t know, when you first saw it. She only asked for it when you’d returned from that club. Immediately after. Well, not for it, exactly. She asked if I had any weapons. I don’t keep weapons. But then I remembered.”

“Assemblers?”

“Short-acting,” Lev said. “Decommission themselves. If there were an accident, the vehicle should be able to contain them.”

“Dominika didn’t want it, Ossian said.”

“Neither did I. Grandfather means well, but he’s of another generation. You haven’t visited the Federation, have you?”

“No,” said Netherton.

“I’ve somehow managed to avoid it myself.”

“Dominika was born here?”

“Literally, in Notting Hill,” said Lev.

Lev was one of those people whom marriage seemed basically to suit in some fundamental way, a state Netherton found unimaginable. The world seemed to consist increasingly of such states. “Why does Lowbeer want the buggy’s weapons?” he asked, as Lev passed him a warm plate.

“She hasn’t said. Given the quality of advice she’s providing Ash and Ossian, I’m disinclined to second-guess her.”

“You’ve no idea who else is in your stub?”

“No. But their quants are easily as good as Ash’s.” They were seated at the pine table now, Lev with his fork poised above his blini. He frowned. “Yes?” he said. “When? Do they know who?” He looked at Netherton, or rather through him. “Let me know, then.” He put down his fork.

“What is it?”

“The signatures of Flynne’s phone have vanished, about two miles from her home.”

“You don’t know where she is?”

“We do,” said Lev. “She has a tracker in her stomach. The service alerts us if she leaves our specified perimeter, as it now has. Both her tracker and her phone drove together to the nearest town, which she does frequently, then both turned north. As they did, her phone was lost. Either she turned it off, which she never does, or someone blocked its signal. Shortly after that, she left the perimeter. The vehicle has since been exceeding speed limits, on very rough roads.”

“She’s in it now, this vehicle?”

“Yes, but nearing the base of operations of the drug synthesist who controls her county.”

“She’s been abducted?” asked Netherton.

“Lowbeer’s cross, Ash says.”

“What are you doing about it?”

“Lowbeer has her own asset, or assets, in the stub,” Lev said. “Ash says they’re on this too. As are her brother and Macon, of course.”

“Who are they, these assets?”

“She isn’t saying. Ash and Ossian don’t like that. It would be whoever has access to the Gonzales White House, I imagine, not that she’s ever suggested as much.” He picked up his fork. “Eat these while they’re still warm. Then we’ll go down and see Ash.”