Free Macaque Attack by Gareth L. Powell Page A

grumbled. “That we’re bloodthirsty torturers who’ll kill him if he doesn’t cooperate?”
    “Exactly.”
    “I don’t know if I can go through with this.”
    Victoria activated her mike.
    “You won’t really be hurting him,” she said reassuringly. “Remember, he’s just a bunch of pixels.”
    “Yeah, but so am I.”
    “You’ll be fine. Just remember why you’re doing it, and try your best.”
    Beside her, K8’s index finger clicked a key.
    “We’re uploading Nguyen now,” the girl said.
    Pixels rippled in the simulation, and the old man appeared in the centre of the helipad, looking much as he had in the lab. He wore a white coat over a blue business suit, a striped tie, and a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. He stood, blinking in the sunlight, one arm raised to shade his eyes.
    “Okay, Paul,” she whispered. “You’re on.”
     
     
    P AUL’S EYES WERE still on the slate-grey horizon, his thoughts lost in the simulated distance. At the sound of Victoria’s voice, he gave a start.
    Where am I?
    Oh yes, Nguyen.
    He cleared his throat and pushed back his shoulders.
    “Welcome, Doctor.”
    Nguyen ignored him. He was peering around at the rig’s pipes and derrick.
    “Crude.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    The doctor waved an arm at his surroundings. “The simulation. It’s very crude. I expected something far more sophisticated.”
    Behind his mirrored shades, Paul raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting to be killed?”
    “Not at all.” The old man looked over the top of his glasses like a disappointed schoolteacher. “But the whole point of wearing a soul-catcher is that, if you do die, you anticipate revival.” Nguyen frowned. “And I expected to be revived somewhere altogether more luxurious than this.”
    “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
    Nguyen’s expression soured. “You’re not one of Célestine’s people, are you?”
    “I’ll ask the questions, Doctor Nguyen.”
    “No.” The man gave a small, tight shake of the head. “I don’t think so.”
    Paul opened and closed his mouth. In his ear, he heard Victoria come on the line.
    “Tell him to cooperate, or you’ll torture him.”
    Paul grimaced. He drew a deep breath.
    “Look, Doctor. You’d better answer our questions, or I’ll hurt you.” Even to his own ears, he sounded hesitant. To try to reinforce the point, he tapped the leather holster dangling from the webbing belt at his waist.
    The corner of Nguyen’s mouth twisted in a skewed smile. “No, I don’t believe you will.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I’ve always been a very good judge of character and you, my young friend, you’re not the type.”
    “You don’t know anything about me.”
    The old man held up a gnarled finger. “Ah, but you’re wrong. I know you very well. Or rather, I know the version of you that lives on my world. As a matter of fact, he’s on my surgical team.”
    Paul felt his stomach flip, as if he was riding a plane in turbulence.
    “He’s still alive?”
    “Of course, why shouldn’t he be?” Nguyen removed his spectacles and regarded Paul with narrowed eyes. “Ah, I see.” He gave a nod of understanding. “You are dead. You are a back-up.”
    The words were like icicles in Paul’s gut.
    “So are you,” he blurted.
    Nguyen shook his head sorrowfully. “Alas, I surmised as much. Tell me, how did I die?”
    “You were shot.”
    “By your people?”
    Paul forced a smile. “By Alyssa Célestine.”
    Nguyen sighed. For a moment he looked old and genuinely sad. “How... disappointing.”
    “And now I need you to tell me how to find her.”
    “Ah, so she got away, did she?”
    “She fell through some kind of portal.” Paul drew his gun. “And she took a friend of mine with her.”
    “I see.”
    “Will you help me?”
    “Probably not.”
    A cold wind blew across the platform. High above, gulls cried.
    “Then you leave me no choice.” Paul raised his weapon.
    “What are you going to do, shoot me?” Nguyen