The Demi-Monde: 81st Day of Winter, 1004
The future of UnFunDaMentalism is inextricably linked with the success of the ForthRight. If and when the ForthRight expands politically and/or geographically so UnFunDaMentalism will expand in lock-step. The decision of the Medi city-states (Paris, Rome and Barcelona) in the Quartier Chaud to make a Unilateral Declaration of Independence from Venice and to reject ImPuritanism in favour of UnFunDaMentalism indicates the attraction of UnFunDaMentalism (and Biological Essentialism) to certain of the more perceptive Leaders active in the DemiMonde, within whose ranks Senior CitiZen Robespierre is most certainly numbered.
– Editorial Comment: The Stormer,
82nd day of Winter, 1004
‘I can have fifty thousand litres of blood on a barge by the second day of Spring… in ten days,’ Louverture confirmed offhandedly, reluctant to take his attention away from the girls rehearsing their routine on the Resi’s dance floor. ‘We can have it shipped up the Rhine accompanied by paperwork that says it’s a delivery of palm oil for a broker in Berlin. At the last minute we’ll redirect it to the Warsaw docks. And as for your other request: the Revue will be departing for Paris tomorrow and you are welcome to accompany us, Mademoiselle Thomas.’
‘How much?’ asked Vanka.
‘The price is the one agreed with Mademoiselle Thomas. Two hundred guineas a litre, ten million guineas in total, payable upfront.’
‘Half now and half on delivery,’ countered Vanka.
Louverture nodded. ‘Very well, but the second half is payable as soon as the barges are alongside Gdansk docks. It’s your responsibility to unload the blood.’
‘Do you have the bank account where the funds are to be transferred?’
Louverture pushed a tightly folded piece of paper across the table which Ella placed securely in her purse. Then they shook on the deal.
Ella looked at Louverture sternly. ‘Monsieur, you are unaware that I am a clairvoyant. Just one touch of another person’s hand and I know all their secrets. And now, having shaken your hand, I know that you intend to renege on the deal we have just made. When the two barges are at the mouth of the Rhine, it is your plan to demand a further two hundred guineas a litre or you will have the barges turn around and return to NoirVille.’
Louverture frowned. ‘Mademoiselle… you are mistaken… I would never…’
‘Monsieur Louverture, I would strenuously advise you against this sort of duplicity. If you attempt to cheat me I will have no hesitation in advising Lord Shaka of the side-deals you have been doing with Victor Lustig that have deprived him of almost a million guineas of profit. I don’t think I need to remind you of how unforgiving Lord Shaka and his Blood Brothers are of those who cheat them.’
The frown deepened. ‘How…’
‘As she says, Ella is the most proficient clairvoyant in the whole of the Demi-Monde,’ explained Vanka airily. ‘She knows everything.’
‘So? Do we have a deal then, Monsieur?’ asked Ella. ‘A deal we are both intent on honouring?’
‘You have, Mademoiselle,’ said Louverture unhappily.
‘We’ve done it, Vanka, we’ve done it!’ exclaimed ajubilant Ella as she skipped out of the Resi. ‘We’ve organised the blood for the Ghetto and by tomorrow we’ll be on our way to NoirVille.’
‘Not “we”, Ella: it’s you who will be on your way to NoirVille.’
Ella stopped dead. ‘What… what do you mean?’
‘Oh come on, Ella. You can’t really imagine that I’ll be able to hide myself away in a troupe of Shade singers and dancers. I’ll stick out like a… well, like a Blank in a troupe of Shade singers and dancers. No, it’s best that you travel to NoirVille alone: it’s safer that way.’
‘Vanka…’ Up until that moment she had been very happy: she was, after all, a girl in love, a girl who had steadfastly refused to think about leaving him and going back to the Real World. But now the unpleasant reality of how different they were came sweeping over her.
Vanka gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘It’s for the best. Ella, I have to know you’re safe. So let’s just concentrate on getting to a Blood Bank and sending the money to Louverture. The quicker we’re back at my lodgings the better.’
The Berlin Blood Bank was just around the corner from the Resi. It was a spectacularly big building, a vast stone temple that dwarfed anything Ella had seen in either the Demi-Monde or the Real World. The white stone it had been constructed from shone bright and pure in the sharp Winter sunlight. Looking at the Bank she thought the Demi-Monde’s programmers must have modelled it after one of the great central banks of the Real World: it was all huge columns, magnificent stone steps that climbed up to enormous doors and the whole lot decorated with a confection of majestic sculptures of forgotten dignitaries. Remarkably the stonework and the carved columns were perfect: there was not a crack or a scratch to be seen anywhere. It was so perfect as to be unnatural.
‘How old is the Bank?’ she asked, preferring to hear the answer from Vanka than PINC.
‘We don’t know exactly,’ answered Vanka, as he looked anxiously around for Checkya agents. ‘The Blood Banks are classified as Wonders of the Ancient Demi-Monde. They’re built from Mantle-ite, the same stuff the sewers are made out of, hence the green sheen.’
‘Is that why the building is in such mint condition?’
‘Yes, Mantle-ite is impervious to wear or corrosion and invulnerable to attack. They hose the Banks down once a week and, hey presto, they’re as good as new. So believe it or not, this building’ – Vanka waved towards the Bank – ‘is – depending on which learned professor of preHistory you’re inclined to believe – somewhere between ten thousand and a hundred thousand years old.’
‘But who do these historians think built them?’
‘Here, in the ForthRight, UnFunDaMentalist dogma has it that Heydrich’s super-Aryans, the Pre-Folk, were responsible.’ Vanka gave Ella a crooked smile. ‘Apparently we Anglo-Slavs could build edifices like this before we were seduced by people like you.’
Ella laughed. ‘I apologise.’
‘Don’t,’ said Vanka. ‘Having seen you in that dress last night I forgive my ancestors all their indiscretions. They would have needed a will of steel to resist women as beautiful as you.’ He gave her arm another squeeze and Ella almost cried as an odd feeling of both sadness and happiness washed over her.
As they climbed the steps two Checkya officers emerged from the Bank: Vanka immediately pulled Ella to one side. ‘If you keep your veil tight, Ella, I think it will help avoid any unpleasantness. If you’re challenged just tell them you’re one of Josephine Baker’s troupe.’
More than a little worried by how edgy Vanka seemed, Ella did as she was asked. And then she froze. Over at the other side of the steps lounging nonchalantly against the wall of the Bank was Professor Septimus Bole. She was sure it was him. She recognised the long skinny body, the great rudder of a nose and the small shaded spectacles. Instinctively she made to move towards him, but the crowds jostling around the Bank’s entrance stopped her and when they cleared the Professor had vanished.
She frowned: why was the Dupe of Professor Bole haunting her? She was sure she had seen him when the Checkya had raided her apartment and now he was here. But why didn’t he speak to her?
She didn’t have a chance to ponder. With another nervous look over his shoulder, Vanka led her through the great doors and into the vastness beyond.
The Banking Hall was enormous, so enormous that though there were thousands of people milling around it still felt empty. The ceiling stretched a good two hundred feet over Ella’s head and the hall must have been at least four or five hundred feet wide. How deep it was she couldn’t even guess; it just seemed to disappear into the distance.
It was also incredibly noisy, resonating with a strange clacking sound, as though a million rattles were being played simultaneously.
Vanka noticed her confusion. ‘The noise is coming from the screens in the Transfusion Booths. That’s where customers can move both the money and the blood they’ve got in the bank.’ He pointed to the stone walkways that coiled up the walls winding from floor to ceiling and along which niches – the Transfusion Booths – were set at ten-foot intervals. ‘The screens are what you use to view your Accounts and to make Infusions and Transfers. They reckon there are half a million Transfer Screens in every single Bank – one for every four people in a District – and that’s why Banks are always so noisy.’
Taking Ella by the arm, Vanka led her up along one of the walkways until they came to an unoccupied booth set about twenty feet or so up from the floor of the Bank. Here she found herself staring at what seemed to be a bizarre, clockwork interpretation of an ATM. There was a viewing port which looked not unlike those employed on old-fashioned mutoscopes – the ‘What the Butler Saw’ machines – that had been the staple of fair-grounds and amusement arcades a hundred years ago, and above this was a large screen similar to the moving-type message boards that she had seen in movies featuring airports of yesteryear. The booth was equipped with a clunky-looking keyboard – an image of a handprint to its left – set on a shelf positioned below the mutoscope viewer. Finally there was a faucet to the right of the keyboard from where she presumed blood was dispensed.
‘Let’s get going, Ella,’ urged Vanka. ‘I hate Banks, they’re always crawling with Checkya. You begin by placing your hand on the red handprint. That allows the Bank to identify you.’
‘How?’
‘The Spirits only know,’ said Vanka impatiently.
Gingerly she placed her hand over the symbol indented into the surface of the shelf. For a second nothing happened, although she had the distinct impression of a tingling along her palm. Then the little squares that made up the screen started to whirl, clacking loudly as they spun. When the letters on the squares eventually stopped rotating Ella saw a message spelt out for her.
THE BANK OF BERLIN WELCOMES ELLA THOMAS
Wow… she was in!
PLEASE ENTER YOUR PASSWORD
Password? Without thinking she began typing.
LILITH
Now where did she conjure that from?
PASSWORD ACCEPTED
‘You’ve been accepted,’ breathed a relieved Vanka as the little squares whizzed around again.
CASH OR BLOOD TRANSACTION?
Ella typed ‘CASH’.
WHICH ACCOUNT DO YOU WISH TO ACCESS?
She typed in the account number of the SS-Ordo Templi Aryanis.
PLEASE ENTER THE PASSWORD FOR THIS ACCOUNT
Ella typed in ‘THELEMA’. Even if she hadn’t read Crowley’s mind she’d have known that was the password he’d have chosen. Thelema was the black magician’s occult creed, based on the philosophy of ‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law’.
PASSWORD ACCEPTED
WHICH SERVICE DO YOU REQUIRE?
1. WITHDRAWALS
2. DEPOSITS
3. TRANSFERS
4. OTHER
Ella hit the ‘3’ button and immediately the letters that made up the screen clattered around.
ACCOUNT NAME AND NUMBER TO WHICH THE TRANSFER IS TO BE MADE AMOUNT DATE TRANSFER TO BE EXECUTED
Ella dug out the piece of paper that Louverture had given her and, fingers dancing over the keyboard, sent five million guineas winging its way. Next she paid the half-million guineas she’d promised Burlesque Bandstand.
The letters spun again.
‘Do you have an account, Vanka, an account which the ForthRight can’t block?’
Vanka had, and again Ella worked the keyboard. ‘There,’ she said with an air of triumph, ‘ten million guineas, all that was left in the Ordo Templi Aryanis account, is now safely resting in the account of Vanka Maykov. When you’ve paid Louverture the second tranche that’ll leave five million guineas for you. How does it feel to be a multi-millionaire, Vanka?’
‘Great,’ said Vanka testily. ‘Can we go now?’
‘In a moment,’ said Ella as the screen churned again.
ANOTHER SERVICE?
With a shrug, Ella typed in her question.
WHAT SERVICES AVAILABLE?
The answer that rolled around on the screen left her numb.
ELLA THOMAS YOUR SECURITY CLEARANCE IS SUCH THAT YOU ARE ABLE TO ACCESS THE DEMI-MONDE® IM MANUAL
‘What’s an IM Manual?’ asked Vanka. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone accessing an IM Manual before.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Ella as she worked the keyboard again.
IM MANUAL?
The answer came back immediately.
THE INTERFACE MANIPULATION MANUAL FOR THE DEMIMONDE®
Ella’s fingers danced over the keyboard.
ACCESS DEMI-MONDE IM MANUAL.
The response was instantaneous.
PLEASE BE ADVISED ELLA THOMAS THAT YOU HAVE GRADE 8 (CAPTAIN OR ABOVE) STATUS. IN ACCORDANCE WITH PROTOCOL 57 THIS ALLOWS SUCH INDIVIDUALS, WHEN DEPLOYED IN THE DEMI-MONDE® AND FACED BY MORTAL DANGER, TO MAKE EMERGENCY ONE-HOUR CHANGES TO THE DEMI-MONDE’S CYBER-MILIEU. IN ORDER TO PRESERVE THE DUPES’ PERCEPTION OF THE LOGICALITY OF THE DEMI-MONDE® SUCH CHANGES MAY NOT VIOLATE THE NATURAL LAWS PREVAILING IN THE DEMIMONDE. ALSO NOTE THAT BEFORE SUCH CHANGES ARE MADE PERMANENT THEY MUST BE RATIFIED BY THE DEMI-MONDE® STEERING COMMITTEE. IF SUCH RATIFICATION IS NOT RECEIVED BEFORE ONE HOUR HAS ELAPSED THE AMENDMENT TO THE CYBER-MILIEU WILL BE ANNULLED. PLEASE ENTER ‘YES’ IF THESE CONDITIONS ARE UNDERSTOOD AND ACCEPTED.
Ella stood staring at the screen for several indecisive seconds.
She could get into ABBA!
She could alter the Demi-Monde!
Taking a deep breath, she brought her finger over the ‘Y’ button and pressed.
THE DEMI-MONDE® IM MANUAL
OPTIONS:
1. LOCATE DUPE
2. ADD DUPE
3. DELETE DUPE
4. AMEND DUPE CHARACTERISTICS
5. AMEND DUPE PERCEPTIONS
6. AMEND CYBER-MILIEU CHARACTERISTICS
Eureka!
She swallowed hard, her mind buzzing with possibilities. Using the IM Manual she could find out if Norma Williams was still alive and she could help the people of Warsaw. If she could manipulate the Demi-Monde there was no end to the possibilities of what she could do.
‘We’ve got to go, Ella,’ she heard Vanka whisper urgently in her ear.
‘Just a few seconds more.’
‘No… now!’ He pulled her around so that she was facing back towards the hall.
What she saw chilled her blood. There on the floor of the Bank were four black-uniformed SS troopers pointing up towards them.
‘That bastard Louverture has sold us out,’ snarled Vanka. ‘I should have known better than to have trusted a Blood Brother. Come on, we’ve got to run for it.’
Ella barely had time to stab a finger on the keyboard’s ‘CANCEL’ button before he dragged her away from the booth and was racing her back along the walkway.
They nearly made it.
That there were only four SS officers and miles of interlinked walkway to run along made escape almost too easy. It was like a life-or-death version of snakes and ladders, with Vanka and Ella running up and down between the levels, dodging among the press of customers, while the SS officers scurried after them shouting and yelling and all the time trying to anticipate which way the fugitives would go.
They were out-thought by Vanka. He managed to get himself and Ella to a walkway only ten feet or so above the floor of the Bank and then, grabbing Ella by the hand, jumped to the floor below. The manoeuvre was so unexpected that just for an instant the SS were flummoxed, and an instant was all that Vanka needed. He hauled Ella to her feet and together they raced to the Bank’s exit.
Vanka’s smile of triumph was short-lived: the pair of them ran straight into two large SS troopers who were standing guard at the door. Even as Vanka turned to yell a warning to Ella, he was felled by a savage smack from a blackjack.
‘Up you get, Comrade Maykov, an’ you an’ the Shade move nice an’ easy towards that black steamer parked over there by the pavement. His Holiness Comrade Crowley would like a word.’
With a quick look to Ella, Vanka climbed painfully off the floor, rubbed the bump on his head and then the pair of them were pushed and shoved into the steamer. The SS sergeant clambered in after them and shut the door firmly behind him, the black-tinted windows and the heavy steel body of the steamer sealing them away from the outside world.
A sour-faced Crowley was seated waiting for them. He used the revolver he was holding to wave them into the seat opposite his. ‘Have they been searched?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Your Holiness: we frisked both of them. They’re clean.’
And you enjoyed every second you were doing it, you pervert, added Ella silently. But fortunately you weren’t perverted enough.
Crowley relaxed. ‘So I finally manage to track down the elusive Vanka Maykov and his mysterious PsyChick, Mademoiselle Laveau. I cannot tell you how happy I am to have found you. At last we have an opportunity to resume the acquaintanceship that was so abruptly interrupted by your disappearance from Dashwood Manor. You should know, Maykov, that your abduction of the Daemon has caused me some considerable embarrassment: I was heavily criticised by the Leader for not recognising you for the villain you are.’ He took a long suck on his cheroot and then blew smoke into Vanka’s face. ‘Yes, capturing you and Mademoiselle Laveau will be quite a feather in my cap. The Leader is very anxious to meet her again.’
‘How did you find me?’ asked Vanka.
‘A little bird whispered in my ear; a little bird who is very anxious that Mademoiselle Laveau stops dabbling in the Dark Arts. But really, Maykov, I’m not here to answer your questions, you’re here to answer mine. Firstly: what were you doing conniving with that black wretch Louverture? And please don’t dissemble: Karl, the doorman of the Resi, is a loyal Party member.’
‘I was trying to buy blood.’
‘I suspected as much. I have had you investigated, Maykov, so I know you are a reprobate with a history of blood trafficking.’ Crowley flicked ash from his cigarette over Vanka’s knees. ‘Unfortunately for you this is one deal which will remain unconsummated. By tonight Louverture and the rest of the black trash performing at the Resi will have been declared personae non gratae and thrown out of the ForthRight. But a question arises: what were you doing in the Bank?’
Now this, Ella realised, was a bloody difficult question to answer. That the money to pay for the blood had come from the coffers of the Ordo Templi Aryanis was not, she guessed, an answer that would be popular with His Holiness. Vanka seemed to be stumped for an alternative and believable answer and therefore opted to stay silent. It was a silence that provoked Crowley: he slashed the barrel of his revolver across Vanka’s face.
‘Answer me!’ he snarled as he raised his hand for a second strike.
‘No…!’ Ella blurted out.
With a thin smile of triumph dressing his mouth, Crowley turned his attention to Ella. ‘My, my, a cross-racial show of affection. My cup really does runneth over. This will make my work at Wewelsburg all the more delicious. The Leader has evinced a great deal of enthusiasm to meet you again, Mademoiselle Laveau, but what condition you are in when he meets you…’ Crowley glanced back to Vanka and gave a sardonic laugh. ‘I presume you are aware of the punishment for the Race Crime of Miscegenation, Maykov? It’s gelding.’ He shook his head in mock dismay. ‘I am disappointed in you, Maykov, it’s never advisable to mix business with pleasure, though I admit your slattern of a PsyChick has a certain appeal.’
‘I’m no slattern…’ began Ella but her protest was stymied by a slap across the face.
The pain was worth it. Despite the difficulty she had in reading Crowley, in that instant she knew what he had planned for her and Vanka and it was an insight that made her blood run cold. But she had learned other things too… important things.
All she had to do now was get away from this monster.
‘Be quiet! I will not be interrupted by a primitive such as you. Remember I have seen you perform! No woman other than a trollop would disport herself in such a lascivious manner. Your kind should know their place, and in your case that is on your back.’
It was the gleam in the man’s eye that gave Ella an idea. ‘Dat’s right, Sir,’ she said, mumming her NoirVillian accent. ‘Ah would sure like to perform on mah back for such a fine man like yous.’
‘Disgusting,’ muttered Crowley, but his interest in Ella seemed to ratchet up a little.
‘An’ then maybe you’d get to feel mah fine, long legs around yous.’ And to the astonishment of the three men crammed in the steamer’s cabin she began to slowly draw the hem of her long skirt up over her legs. ‘Dey says ah’s got the prettiest ankles in all ob de JAD.’ As though to emphasise the point, she wriggled her foot around. ‘But ah tinks dat it’s mah calves that are de nicest.’ She pulled the skirt up over her knee and hooked her leg around so that Crowley could get a view of her silk-stocking-encased calf. ‘Den dere am some gentlemen who am ob de opinion dat it is mah thighs dat am de fings dat makes paying for me to service dem worthwhile.’
Ella artfully drew the skirt over her thighs. Three sets of eyes were locked in stunned appreciation of the succulent flesh she was displaying. Then she started giggling. ‘Ob course it might be de ting hidden between mah legs dat dey find most exciting.’ With an evil little wiggle she delved her hand under her skirt. When it reappeared it was holding the small but very businesslike revolver Rivets had procured for her just the day before, a revolver that she was pointing straight between Crowley’s eyes.
‘I would be obliged, Your Holiness, if you would lower your weapon
… the one you’re holding in your hand, that is.’ All trace of the NoirVille accent had vanished; now her tone was much more threatening. ‘I shall count to three and if you haven’t surrendered your weapon by then I will shoot you through the eye.’
‘My dear young lady, don’t you realise that my colleague here has a pistol jammed in the ribs of your friend Vanka Maykov?’
‘One!’
Crowley swallowed hard. ‘This is ridiculous. Shoot me and you won’t get ten yards.’
‘Two!’ Ella decided not to count to three.
Screw playing fair.
Instead she shot Crowley in the shoulder, the impact of the bullet causing him to pull the trigger of his own weapon. The gun exploded, the bullet smacking with a wet thud into the SS sergeant’s leg. Vanka didn’t need a second invitation: he smashed his elbow back into the thug’s face.
‘Out!’ he shouted as he pushed open the steamer’s door and jumped into the road, kicking the second SS trooper standing guard there squarely between the legs as he did so.
All Hel broke loose. A steamer that had been trundling along Blumenstrasse swerved to avoid the door that Vanka had thrown open, crashed into a dray cart hauling a shipment of potatoes coming in the opposite direction and demolished two stalls standing by the side of the road. In seconds the street was reduced to a shouting, cursing, fighting chaos and it was a chaos that Vanka, dragging Ella behind him, used to escape Crowley’s goons.
They reached Vanka’s rooms a breathless ten minutes later. Immediately he was sure they hadn’t been followed, Vanka sent Rivets off to reconnoitre the Resi and to see what was happening there.
The boy was back in less than an hour. ‘By the Spirits, Vanka, you’ve really gorn an’ done it now. The streets is swarming wiv Checkya. They say there’s bin an assassination attempt on His Holiness Comrade Crowley by some Shade bint who’s a WhoDlum crypto. From wot I’ve bin told they’re puttin’ guards outside every Blood Bank in the ForthRight and at every mooring point along the Rhine and the Volga, and they’re searching every cart and steamer leaving the ForthRight.’ He shook his head. ‘Yous an’ Miss Ella ‘ere are a couple of really ‘ot potatoes.’
‘Fuck.’
‘I fink there’s more bad news as well, Vanka. I sees that black item Louverture bin led away for questioning by the SS.’
‘There goes our chance of smuggling you out of the ForthRight, Ella. Our best bet is to stay hidden until the SS get tired of looking for us.’
‘I can’t do that, Vanka, I’ve got to save Norma Williams,’ said Ella quietly. ‘When Crowley slapped me’ – and here she brought her fingers up to the four red welts that decorated her cheek – ‘I read him… not clearly, his mind is too well shielded for that, but well enough. Norma Williams is alive and Crowley has her held in a place called Wewelsburg Castle.’
‘Then the cow might as well be dead,’ snorted Vanka. ‘Lots of people go into Wewelsburg Castle but I’ve never heard of any of them coming out. It’s the headquarters of the SS. We’ll never be able to rescue her from there.’
‘I know,’ admitted Ella. ‘But the other thing I learned from Crowley is that he’s having her moved soon. They’re taking her somewhere to use her in the Rite of Transference. I couldn’t read where – Crowley had blocked that piece of information – but I know she’ll be moved on the last day of Winter. That’ll be our chance to rescue her.’
‘First you’ve got to find where Crowley’s taking her.’
‘To do that I need to get into a Blood Bank again. Once I’m there I’ll be able to find out about Norma and I’ll be able to help the people of Warsaw. Working the IM Manual has given me an idea as to how I can have the Varsovians escape Heydrich.’
‘What? Have you gone crackers? You won’t be able to get within half a mile of a Blood Bank without the Checkya spotting you.’
‘Which is the last Bank that Beria and his crew would think I would use?’
Vanka thought for a moment. ‘Oh fuck… the one in the Ghetto.’