The Real Read online

  “What are you up to, Issy?”

  Isabeau pulled her hair back into a pony tail, an elastic hair-band between her teeth. She snatched it out to speak. “It’s the circus, isn’t it? We can sneak in like we used to. Tonight.”

  Ndlela had to admit the idea had appeal. After dark they could get down to the circus buildings without being seen. There were enough broken sections of drainage, walls, and various other bits of rubble to cover their approach almost all the way in. And once they were inside they were home free. The last time they’d done it, the circus people had never even known they were there.

  Jayden’s rules were not to attract any attention to the hotel, the place they lived. Never give away your position. Which was why they were so careful with lights at night and never made enough of a fire to create smoke. They buried their waste, kept the solar panels as hidden as possible, all that stuff.

  Going to see the circus people during the day, before any of the Kaapstadt crowd showed up, would break that rule. But sneaking closer for a look at night? If he was honest with himself, Ndlela was getting a bit tired of keeping Jayden’s everlasting rules.

  If he’s so worried about us, why didn’t he come back to make sure we are fine?

  “Okay,” he said at last. “But only once it’s properly dark, okay? And you must promise to do everything I say. Otherwise, no go.”

  “Yay!” Isabeau punched a fist in the air. “Excellent!”

  Then she laughed as Robby, always happy to join in any celebration, started barking.

  ¤¤¤

  “Enjoying your new boss?”

  Ricardo grinned at Elke across the table from where he sat snuggled up to Zyta, his long-time girlfriend. It was evening and Elke was at the cafeteria with her usual group of friends. Otto was there, arguing with Alexander the Great. Mack Jack was explaining his new business ideas to Diesel, something about the little bottled globe gardens that he sold in his free time.

  They were lingering over the remains of their meal, chatting and drinking a sparkling fruit wine that Ricardo had provided in honour of some unspecified anniversary between him and Zyta.

  “You know him?” Elke ate the last of the deep-fried fish sticks and looked around for a serviette to wipe the grease off her fingers.

  “Argent?” said Ricardo. “Oh yes. He was appointed—actually I think he appointed himself—when they did that efficiency audit of customs.” He pulled a sour face. “That guy has a stick up his butt. He got one of the dogs euthanised because it didn’t have the right papers, according to him.”

  Elke stared at him. “He did? Why haven’t I heard about it?”

  “Before you got here,” said Ricardo. “Two, three years ago? Before all this commission stuff started, anyway. He’s a piece of work. You better watch your step.”

  “The dog was killed?” Elke was horrified.

  “It was.” Ricardo shrugged. “There might have been more to it than just missing paperwork. I’ve heard Argent got bitten, but then I also heard he kicked the dog. He’s scared of dogs, that’s for sure. The dog handlers in customs couldn’t stand him.”

  “Is he giving you trouble, Elke?” asked Diesel.

  “Let’s say we didn’t get off to a good start.” Elke held out her glass and Ricardo filled it for her. “He’s gone and swapped me and Wozniak around. Now I’m stuck in the office doing the admin stuff, and the Woz is doing patrols.”

  “Oh jeez,” Ricardo took a long swallow of his wine.

  “Well, to be fair,” said Elke, “Wozniak used to do patrols before I came along, but he really is much better at the office stuff. It’s what he likes to do.”

  “The Woz did patrols by parking his butt in his chair in Dolly’s office and sleeping,” said Ricardo.

  “But why would he?” said Diesel, moving a chair closer so she was sitting opposite Elke. “Swap you guys around, I mean.”

  “Got off on the wrong foot.” Elke pulled a face. “First Argent stepped on Meisje’s tail and got a fright when she got a fright. Then he went on at me about these.” She brushed a hand over her horns. “Says they ‘bring the reputation of the unit into disrepute’. Wants me to grind them down. It’s cool,” she said as Diesel opened her mouth to react, “If I have to, I have to. They’ll grow back.”

  “And the tattoo?” said Diesel. “He had a problem with that too?”

  “I don’t think he knows what it means.” Elke touched the teardrop tattoo that marked her as a one-time member of an eco-gang.

  Ricardo laughed. “He’ll find out, don’t you worry. He loves snooping about in people’s records.”

  “Well,” Elke took a swallow from her glass. “I have that to look forward to.”

  “You worried?” asked Diesel. “This guy is only temporary, right? He can’t actually do anything?”

  “You’re right.” Elke reached down to rub Meisje, who was curled up at her feet. “This girl’s going to get bored, though. Sitting still all day long, while I file things and fill in records.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “You guys know that Dolly’s up in front of the commission, right?”

  Diesel nodded. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “You heard anything about that? You think she’ll be okay?”

  “If anyone can handle that bunch of twerps, it’s Dolly,” said Diesel. “Although you’re right to be worried. If they could get rid of her, they’d get their fingers into all sorts of pies. Dolly’s made lots of enemies over the years.”

  Their attention was drawn to Otto, who was arguing with Ricardo now.

  “No, it’s real this time,” he said. “They got a picture of her on a security camera. In one of those rich neighbourhoods up against the mountain. Samurai Dog, large as life.”

  “It’s a stunt,” said Ricardo, and then, appealing to Elke, “It’s just a stunt, hey, Veraart? Something those movie people are doing.”

  “What’s this?” said Elke.

  “It’s that gardag in the movie,” said Otto. “You know, you told me about her. What’s her name again? That one they call the Samurai Dog.”

  “Her name’s Xun,” said Elke. “She’s been seen?”

  “Apparently,” said Ricardo, “She’s been hiding out in the mountain all this time and now, by pure coincidence, she’s decided to take a stroll through Kaapstadt just as that movie is about to come out. It’s a stunt, Otto, admit it. Those movie people— I mean, what are the chances. Somebody writes a book about this gardag, they make a movie about her, and poof, just as they are about to screen the thing, out pops the original gardag.”

  “It’s because of the fire.” Otto leaned to take the last piece of cake. “There’s this big fire on Table Mountain where she’s been living all this time. That’s what drove her out.” He took a big bite of cake, gesturing with one hand as he chewed to indicate that he wanted to say something more. “It was all on the wire this morning. They actually saw her.”

  “And then she just conveniently vanished into thin air again,” said Ricardo. Come on, Veraart, tell him. Is there any chance this gardag can still be running around the streets of Kaapstadt?”

  “Yeah.” Zyta leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest. “You used to be a gardag handler out in the Real. Did you ever see this Samurai Dog?”

  Elke shook her head. “I was up in Egoli, remember? And she’s one of the original gardags Eckzahn made down in Kaapstadt so she was before my time. If she is still alive now, she’d be—” She frowned, calculating. “Twenty, twenty-five years old.”

  “There, you see?” Ricardo slapped the table. “Dogs just don’t get that old.”

  “But gardags might,” said Diesel.

  “Actually, we have no idea,” said Elke. “The gardags that survive the job stay strong and healthy for much longer than you’d expect. They live longer than normal dogs, that’s certain.”

  “So the Samurai Dog could still be alive?” Diesel seemed sceptical.

  “She might.”

  “So why
is she called the Samurai Dog?” Zyta pulled Ricardo’s arm around herself and snuggled into him.

  “Because of the styling of her armour,” said Mack Jack. He caught Elke’s eye. “What? It’s true. I read that book. The client that commissioned Samurai Dog had a thing for Oriental stuff, so his dog got a sort of Samurai styling.”

  “Her name is Xun,” said Elke. “But it’s true about the armour.”

  “It’s all just too convenient,” said Ricardo. “It’s probably some dog made to look the part, edited and let loose in Kaapstadt, poor bugger. Listen, sweetie,” he looked at Zyta. “It’s getting late.”

  They left, and Alexander and Otto soon followed them. Mack Jack stayed for a while, chatting to Elke. She’d got into the habit of visiting his stall after work, and he’d been teaching her how to put together her own little bottled gardens.

  At last Mack Jack drained his glass and stood, looking down at her from his considerable height. Elke never quite got used to how big he was, with his disproportionately wide shoulders and long, muscular arms.

  “Well, I’ll be seeing you,” he said, and then to her surprise, he bent and brushed his lips against her cheek in a warm, breathy kiss.

  It must be the wine, Elke thought as she watched him push his way out through the cafeteria tables. It’s got everyone all relaxed and expansive tonight.

  Diesel reached for the last bottle of wine.

  “So,” she said as she poured another glass for each of them. “That looked really friendly.”

  Elke took her glass but didn’t respond other than to lift her eyebrows.

  “I thought you were more into the ladies,” said Diesel. “Or did I miss something?”

  “Mack Jack’s quite a guy.”

  “Ah.” Diesel took a swallow of her drink. “You know, I’ve never had a crush on a woman. Only ever been interested in men.” She nodded solemnly.

  “Sure.” Elke tried not to laugh as she nodded in agreement. Another one who’s had too much wine.

  She looked at her friend speculatively. Diesel was not one for making personal remarks or discussing sex or relationships. The stranger-woman looked much as she’d done when Elke had first met her. She even wore the same faded overalls, contrasting oddly with the fine, feathery tattoos that marked her as belonging to one of the more influential Strangeworld castes.

  “He likes you.” Diesel looked in the direction Mack Jack had gone. “And he’s certainly an improvement on whatsername. What was her name? That woman who disappeared?”

  “Moraes.” Elke drew her glass along a drip of wine on the table cloth, making the stain spread into a line.

  “That’s right. Skyler Moraes. What a piece of work.”

  They sat in companionable silence, listening to the sounds of the cafeteria kitchen closing up for the night.

  “You ever hear anything about her again?” said Diesel at last.

  Elke shrugged and gave an unconvincing smile. Then she looked away and shook her head. “Dolly thought they’d get her for sure when she first went missing. Apparently Nexico puts some kind of tracer-chip in all their employees. No way she could get far with that in her. But she must have found some way of dealing with it because we never heard anything more about it.”

  “Unless Nexico found her, and just didn’t bother to let anyone know.”

  “That,” said Elke heavily, “is very likely.”

  “You still think about her, don’t you.” Diesel put her glass down a little bit too hard, confirming Elke’s guess about her sobriety.

  “I do?”

  “Yeah. I can tell. I don’t know,” Diesel shook her head. “The woman spies on you, tries to frame you for a crime that could get your head cut off, kidnaps your dog, and still you mope after her.”

  “Hey, I don’t mope. I just—” Elke gestured helplessly. “I wonder about her. But you’re right. And you left out, she’s a killer. Remember that guy we found dead in his prison cell just when she disappeared?”

  “Yes, exactly, there’s that too. She’s a lying, manipulative killer. So why can’t you get over her?”

  “There’s nothing to get over.” Elke was starting to get a little irritated now. “I had a bit of a crush on her, sure, I admit that, but we never even got so far as kissing, for God’s sake. What makes you think I’m moping about her?”

  “I don’t know.” Diesel slouched back in her chair. “Ignore me. It’s none of my business, anyway.”

  “I do think about her,” Elke said after a pause. “Despite everything she did. I wonder what the hell happened to her.” She ran her hands through her hair, loosening the tight braid. “Maybe she reminds me a bit of what I used to be like. When I was young and foolish.”

  That got Diesel’s attention and she sat up a little straighter. “Bullshit. You were never like that. I mean, I know you used to be with the Rent and everything, but that’s different.”

  “Not really.” Elke pushed back her chair, preparing to get up. “I did some pretty bad things back then. At the time I thought they were justified. I bet Moraes feels that way too, about the things she did.”

  “I don’t know.” Diesel frowned. “Maybe you did some things you regret, but that’s the thing. You regret them. I bet Moraes doesn’t even give it a thought.”

  Can’t you drop it? Elke looked at Diesel, who was slumped again, blinking sleepily. “Listen,” she said at last. “It’s late. Let’s go.”

  ¤¤¤

  After walking Diesel to her roost, Elke took Meisje for a last, late night walk before returning to her own cubby. She sat for a while in the cubby door with Meisje next to her, watching her neighbours settle down for the night.

  Better get to bed. Get some sleep. She’d had a bit too much of that wine of Ricardo’s. Got to get up early tomorrow. Or is it today already? The thought of the next day’s work under Herr-eid Argent brought back the knot in her stomach.

  Oh, get over it.

  She started undressing. Things always seem worse at night. Anyway, it’s not as if I’m permanently stuck with the guy. Dolly’s going to be back soon.

  As she took off her trousers she found an unexpected lump in one pocket. For a moment she frowned at it, then remembered. It was the little package the skateboard messenger had given her earlier that morning. Totally forgot about it.

  It was a plain, brown paper parcel with her name on it, and no other markings. She sat on her bed and slid one fingernail along the edge of the parcel, tearing it open. It contained a flattened oval of grey plastic with a tiny screen set into one side. A blink disk.

  Elke pressed a thumb on the screen, which went momentarily black, then flashed into focus. The shades of grey and silver coalesced into the image of a woman’s face.

  “Hello, Elke.”

  Elke’s hand tightened convulsively, thumb pressing on the screen, pausing the recorded message. Icy shock flooded her.

  Skyler Moraes.

  She stared down at the image cradled in her palm. Moraes’s hair was long now and her face looked thinner, more strained, but there was no room for doubt. This was the woman who’d spied on Elke while she was trying to track down Meisje, who’d tried to frame her for drug possession. Who had kidnapped Meisje and tried to smuggle her out of the Eye and when that had failed, had killed her own colleague as she herself escaped from the Eye into the Real.

  And I’d just been talking about her to Diesel. It was as though she’d conjured up this ghost from her past just by talking about her.

  Get a grip, Veraart.

  Reluctantly, she thumbed the screen again.

  “— uh. So.” Moraes wiped a strand of hair out of her face. “Surprised to hear from me, sweetheart? Sorry I’ve been quiet so long.”

  Elke frowned in surprise.

  “But listen, this is a one-time-disk. It’s going to wipe itself when the message ends so it’s real important that you get what I’m saying, okay?”

  Moraes glanced off camera and Elke wondered if there had been somebody with her
when she filmed the message.

  “Elke, you’re in trouble. I don’t know when you’ll get this message, whether you’re going to get it in time.” Moraes leaned forward, her face filling the screen. “Somebody is trying to set you up. It’s complicated— I really need to speak to you. I know who it is, who’s…look. Can you come to the Real, to meet me? Then I can tell you myself. There’s somebody gunning for you.” Moraes licked her lips. Her eyes were shadowed and there were lines on her forehead and around her mouth that hadn’t been there before.

  “I’m just outside Kaapstadt, in the Muara, you know it? Right where the river comes out. It’s safe here, no one else around. I’m staying in these buildings they call the Circus. I’ll be there for the next week, at least. It’s only me here, all by myself. But don’t bring anyone else. Somebody in the Eye— Don’t trust anyone. Love you, sweetheart. Come soon.”

  Moraes blew a kiss at the camera but before the motion was completed, the screen went blank. The disk grew suddenly hot and Elke dropped it hurriedly on the floor. A stench of burnt electronics filled the cubby as the little disk wiped itself.

  Elke stared at it. What the hell? The message itself was bad enough, but since when had Moraes called her “sweetheart”? And blowing kisses?

  Even if she set aside everything that had happened, the stuff with Meisje, the framing, the murder, she and Moraes had hardly known one another. Yes, she’d been attracted to the woman, but nothing had ever come of it.

  Why would Moraes send such a message?

  Something’s not right.

  ¤¤¤

  “Isabeau!”

  Ndlela strained to see in the dark. He didn’t dare call above a whisper in case Noor heard him. His eldest sister was asleep in her bed, but she was a light sleeper. He was already regretting having agreed to this ridiculous plan of Isabeau’s. It was one thing, sneaking in to have a look at the circus when the circus lights were lit and there were lots of people about, a whole cheering audience of them covering whatever noise an intruder might make. It was quite another going down there in this silent dark.