CHAPTER 12
Sami Maktoum and Peter Cathwaite stood side by side as the final fabrication process finished and the conveyor deposited the gleaming golden vehicle before them. For Sami, the moment contained an odd tension that he could scarcely admit to himself. It was one thing to have a coterie of forensic data miners tell you that you possess original, certified fabrication files. It was quite another thing to invest billions of guilders (and likely incur the wrath of one’s brother) on a gamble that had never been physically validated.
Now, with a sort of expert at his side, Sami waited nervously for Cathwaite’s first comment, telling himself over and over that of course everything was perfect. The protracted silence as Cathwaite merely stared at the vehicle began to abrade Sami’s reassurance but he bit his lip, refusing to display any uncertainty.
“Huh,” Cathwaite uttered at last, causing Sami to interpret that sound into meaning . . . without success.
Cathwaite stepped up and gently touched the smooth surface of the vehicle’s hood, turning sharply back to Sami. “When can we drive it?”
Sami throttled back his questions and forced a smile. “Drive it? I think we can try it now, Cathwaite. Just need to fill the, um, hydrocarbon reservoir here.” Sami puzzled over the fuel-dispensing system for a moment before setting it in motion, a mechanical arm extending to the vehicle, its liquid payload jetting into the vehicle’s internal tank.
When Sami looked back at Cathwaite it was to see him on his knees beside one of the rubbery black wheels. “Hmm, composite solids,” Cathwaite murmured. “Not inflatable tires like the original vehicles.”
“Yes,” Sami said in a neutral tone, not sure what Cathwaite was indicating by this comment, whether a composite solid was good or bad.
“Aside from that,” Cathwaite said, standing erect and smoothing a hand over the vehicle again, “seems exactly original. Like a time capsule.” He opened the vehicle’s door and slipped inside, placing two hands on the steering wheel. Sami fumbled with the unfamiliar door handle for a moment before climbing in, shutting the door behind him.
Cathwaite looked over the instruments and moved his feet about on the three odd-shaped pedals before reaching up to actuate the starting process. Sami had driven one ancient Earth vehicle in his younger years, and retained a clear recollection of a roaring engine noise as all those hydrocarbons exploded inside the clunky metal monstrosity. As Cathwaite triggered the ignition operation it seemed to utter a plaintive, repetitive straining sound that stopped abruptly as Cathwaite mumbled to himself. Sami looked over at Cathwaite with the beginnings of panic gnawing his guts, and Cathwaite actuated the starting sequence again, the straining sound rising two or three times before it coughed, roaring into life, the vehicle stirring and shifting beneath them as Cathwaite revved the engine.
Cathwaite grinned at Sami, moving the gear selection knob around with the accompaniment of some unpleasant grinding sounds, and eased the vehicle into motion . . . where it lurched sharply and fell silent. Sami looked at Cathwaite, who flushed, fumbling with the gear selector and the starter. “You have driven these things before, right?”
“Yes,” Cathwaite said. “A couple of times, but never a Corvette . . . They’re just too damned valuable to actually drive and . . . and honestly they’re above my touch anyway.”
Before Cathwaite could reinitiate the starter, a sharp rap on Sami’s window caused him to jump. Belinda Athenos stood waiting, her pale and weary features wreathed in hydrocarbon smoke that swirled past her into the ventilation ducts. Sami fumbled with the door, shoving it open.
“What is it, Athenos?” he demanded, goaded into more than his usual easygoing air.
“Sorry to disturb, sir,” she said, glancing uncertainly at Cathwaite before addressing Sami. “I just wished to caution you that you may want to restrict your vehicle testing to the oval track for now. We have experienced a few . . . issues down in the catacombs and the circuit.”
Sami read her expression well enough to avoid probing the “issues” with Cathwaite listening. “Oh? Very well, Athenos. The oval track should suffice for the moment.”
As Sami moved to close the vehicle door again, Belinda seemed to nerve herself to interpose a hand. “Director”—her eyes flicked to Cathwaite again—“if you could give me a moment of your time . . . soon, sir . . .”
“Yes, yes, Athenos,” Sami said, maintaining his polite veneer with difficulty. “You will have your moment later. Thank you.”
Sami slammed the door and Cathwaite triggered the engine into a fresh growl of explosive life. As the vehicle lurched forward, Sami saw Belinda’s face swathed in smoke, her lip between her teeth, the expression in her eyes most unsettling. In the next instant Cathwaite managed to jerk and jolt the vehicle out through the access tunnel, operating the gear lever, accompanied by additional grinding sounds.
Three broad passages opened before them, each labeled with glowing holographic text. Cathwaite steered toward the leftmost route, driving through the glowing words oval track, and immediately dropping down into the vast cavern.
“Oh ho!” Cathwaite chortled as he peered out at the broad expanse. “Beautiful!” The engine roared louder, the Corvette accelerating in a jerky fashion punctuated by gear-grinding lurches that made Sami’s innards feel slightly uneasy. As they rounded the first gradual corner, the vehicle moving up the curved wall and still accelerating, Sami remembered the sensation that had so captured his emotions some years before.
Cathwaite poured the power on smoothly now and they seemed to blast into the long stretch of the oval, the aquamarine track flashing by close outside Sami’s window, the engine’s howl vibrating through his bones to the pit of his stomach. He almost yelled in delight, restraining himself with difficulty.
After flashing around the track a dozen times, Cathwaite slowed, the engine falling to a lower murmur, then applied the braking mechanism. Sami seemed to recall deceleration in his previous antique car experience had been devoid of any particular excitement, but either Cathwaite or this Corvette car handled deceleration in an entirely different fashion.
First, Sami felt himself slammed forward, nearly braining himself on the windshield, and when he overcame his initial shock he heard a protracted screeching sound, feeling the vehicle stirring strangely beneath him. To Sami’s horror, the tail end of the Corvette seemed to break loose, coming around until the entire vehicle slid sideways down the track at a considerable velocity.
For a moment, Sami thought the Corvette would overturn, but instead it merely screeched to a halt, only tilting onto two wheels for a moment before thumping heavily back down.
Sami found that his hands clenched onto the seat like iron claws, and the inside of his cheek bled where he had unconsciously bitten it.
Sami slowly turned to look at Cathwaite, seeing the eccentric collector mopping sweat from his brow. “Need some practice with the brakes,” Cathwaite said.
“Yes,” Sami agreed. “Perhaps you can do some of that practicing after you drive me back to the Build-Out area.”
Belinda Athenos contended with more than tight deadlines and challenging work conditions. “We’ve lost over twenty workers so far, sir,” she explained, launching into a rather intense list of troubling issues besetting her.
Sami frowned. “What do you mean? They quit? Hire more.”
“No, sir,” she said, shaking her head. “They’re gone, lost, and we’ve seen no sign of them.”
“Lost?” Sami demanded, suddenly incensed. Despite the bizarre geometrical effects within Ajanib, it still only represented a limited bubble of livable space. “Find those slackers and fire them.”
“We can’t find them,” Belinda said, and something about the haunted expression on her face chilled Sami’s fire of indignation.
“Did you, um, inquire with the scientists?” The Maktoum Corporation science team still labored on—uselessly in Sami’s opinion—and their living quarters and labs remained in a small utilitarian section of Ajanib segregated from his grand project.
It was Belinda’s turn to frown. “The scientists resent our presence, sir. I can barely get a civil word out of them after they lectured me about all the history and science we are supposedly destroying every day.”
Sami suddenly recalled a statement very much like that which had crossed his desk some weeks before, an angry science type blathering about “incalculable damage” and the like. In Sami’s view the scientists had received their first shot at Ajanib and came up almost empty-handed. Now they wanted to squat on this valuable real estate and pretend that every little scrap of mineral was actually some huge scientific discovery.
“I see,” Sami said, thinking. “I take it these disappearances occurred in the catacomb section, and thus your, um, earlier concern?”
“Yes, Director,” Belinda said. “And now I can barely get workers to venture down at all, and a bunch are threatening to quit.”
Sami waved a dismissive hand. “The scientists have been here for months and they’re not losing anyone, so—”
Sami broke off as Belinda shook her head. “They’ve lost two people also.”
“What? When?” Sami felt a sudden burning frustration. How had this happened without his knowledge?
“In the last twelve hours or so, as I understand it.”
Sami took a deep breath, considering the situation, employing all the troubleshooting techniques an army of tutors had drilled into his head during his formative years, ticking through the probabilities one by one. “Were all the missing workers on foot when they disappeared?”
Belinda thought for a moment. “Yes, now that you mention it, they were.”
Sami nodded to himself, murmuring, “No wounded, no bodies, no sign of a threat . . . ?” He looked at Belinda. “It can only be some trick of the, the . . . whatever they call the alien geometric nonsense.”
“But the inertial locator,” Belinda said. “Everyone carries one, and you can always retrace your steps if you’ve got it with you.”
Sami shook his head. “Only if the path you retrace hasn’t moved since you walked on it, right?”
Belinda stared. “I don’t know. Can that happen?”
“Who knows?” Sami said. “I’m guessing it’s got to be something of that sort.” He stood to his full height and flexed his fingers. “Now to get the workers back on track and feeling confident.”
Belinda seemed to deflate. “With a pep talk, Director? I don’t think it is going to help.”
“I’ve got more in mind than just talk . . .”