The Age of Zeus

48. DETECTIVE WORK

A t another terminal, underground on Bleaney, Sam sat. Mahmoud sat beside her.

"You're sure about this?" Mahmoud said.

"I'm not sure about anything, Zaina," Sam replied. "All I know is, there's something Landesman's not been telling us. It's been nagging at me for a while. Little things here and there. Like when I was talking to Lillicrap and he used the word 'vendetta.' He tried to make out it was a slip of the tongue, but I don't think it was. And Landesman's behaviour on the whole. I don't buy the whole 'billionaire on a mission to save the world' bit, not any more."

"And this isn't just because you're pissed off with him, after New York?"

"Not just because of that, although I swear to God he knew Kerstin was in trouble and he didn't even think about turning back to go and help her. I'm also pissed off with him because he's been busy avoiding me ever since."

"Due to 'work commitments'?"

"What bloody work commitments? Being a Titan is his job now. What else does he have to do?"

"He still has a business to run. Daedalus Industries is still a going concern."

"Nothing he can't delegate," Sam said. "It's been three days. He's hiding from me. He knows it. I know it. And he knows I know."

"Maybe he's embarrassed. His first op as leader wasn't exactly a roaring success."

"Whatever. The point is, I'm convinced he's been holding out on us. It was watching Zeus on that programme with the chubby woman that clinched it for me."

"Paulita, chubby?"

"Don't you think so?"

"I'd describe her as healthy-looking. Latinas are always quite rounded anyway. Bit like Arab-ethnic women."

"You've got a great figure, Zaina. I'd kill to have boobs like yours."

"Bless you, duck."

"But, if I can get back to my argument…"

"Of course."

"I've lost my thread, actually."

"Zeus on Paulita."

"Oh yeah. You see, it set my cop instinct tingling."

"Cop instinct? Is that like Spider-Man's spider sense?"

"Almost identical."

"I'm not certain I ever had one. Don't you have to get bitten by a radioactive policeman?"

"Are you going to let me explain?"

"Sorry. This is making me nervous, and I gabble when I'm nervous." Mahmoud mimed buttoning her lip.

"Now, is that door locked?" They were in one of the facility's R and D labs, surrounded by electronics equipment, tools, components, and steel-frame shelves bearing mounds of microchips and snaky nests of fibre optic cable.

"No one's unlocked it since you asked me the same thing five minutes ago," Mahmoud said. "But I still don't see why all the secrecy. And why do you need me here?"

"For a second opinion. To confirm my hunch or else tell me I'm being a paranoid loon. And as for the secrecy, if I'm wrong then I'm wrong, and no harm done. But if I'm right, I don't want anyone else knowing yet. Not 'til I've decided what to do with the information. The Paulita clip, that'll be on YouTube, right?"

"I should imagine so."

Sam tapped keys. Broadband access was fast on Bleaney, for all the island's isolation. Patanjali had devised dozens of methods for boosting bandwidth and download speeds, such as installing powerful swap memory caches and ultrafast glass-based photonic circuits in most of the bunker's computers. Within seconds Sam was rerunning the moment at the end of the chatshow when Zeus had looked into the camera and rumbled his threat in Ancient Greek. She played that segment of the clip a couple more times, studying it hard.

Then she said, "How old do you reckon Zeus is?"

"Some would say ancient. Thousands of years old."

Patiently: "How old would you say that man there on the screen is? How old does he look?"

"I don't know. Forties? Fifties?"

"It's the hair. It ages him. Silver hair like that — it can add at least a decade. A bushy white beard too. Look at his face. Look at it closely. His skin. No way is that the skin of a middle-aged man. That's the skin of someone in his thirties, I'd say."

"Maybe he has a good grooming regime. Moisturiser and that. Some men do, you know."

"Or maybe being an Olympian, having all that power, somehow keeps you looking young," said Sam. "But let's assume it doesn't. Let's assume Zeus isn't some perpetually ageless immortal. He's a bloke in his thirties whose style makes him look much older and who also acts like a much older person."

"So? Where are you going with this?"

"I'm going where my suspicions are dragging me. Now, next question. Does he remind you of anyone?"

"Who, Zeus?"

"Yes. Keep an open mind. Look at him talking there. His features. The way he holds himself. His mannerisms. Anyone at all?"

Mahmoud was nonplussed. "Er, no one as such. Who's that American actor, the one who always plays cowboys and bar owners and the like? Never without a cheroot. Name's on the tip of my tongue."

"I know the one you mean."

"Younger version of him. But it could be the hair again. They both have the same hair."

"Try to ignore the hair." Sam paused the clip. "There. That's a good shot. You really can't see it?"

Mahmoud placed her hands on the screen, cupping out Zeus's snowy-white locks. She squinted. "Nope, not ringing any bells."

"OK, let's try another tack." Sam opened up a new tab and input a name into Google Images.

"Who's he?" Mahmoud asked. "That surname. Is he anything to do with…?"

"You'll see. Or rather…" The search, somewhat to Sam's surprise, returned no worthwhile hits. "You won't. Damn. He must be out there. He can't have absolutely no internet presence. That would be…" She thought about it. "Well, it wouldn't be inconceivable, I suppose. Not if you happen to know someone who could eradicate every trace of you online if you wanted it."

"You're being very enigmatic here, duck. Or is it me? Am I being slow? Is there something glaringly obvious I'm missing?"

"If there is, it's something we've all been missing. Right, how about this?" Sam inputted another similar name, and this rustled up dozens of valid results. She selected one. "That's a good shot of him. Now, compare that face to this one." She clicked between tabs: first Zeus, still paused on the YouTube clip, then the image she had just Googled. Back and forth. Click, click. "See it?"

"Am I looking for a resemblance?"

"You are."

"I really don't — " Mahmoud stopped herself. Her mouth formed itself into a perfect O. "Or perhaps I do," she said slowly. "The noses. The noses are almost identical. The shape of the eyebrows too. They're like those French accents, whatchemacalls, circumflexes."

"Something about the jawlines as well."

"Yes. Sort of."

"And then there's the body language," Sam said. "My DI always used to tell me to watch out for that. Study faces, he said, but study posture and gesture as well. People give away so much about themselves unconsciously, and I'm still in the habit of noticing those little tics and giveaway cues." She un-paused the clip. "Zeus has this sturdy self-assurance about him."

"As well he might."

"As well he might. But it's so like someone else we know, isn't it? Also, he holds himself very erect. See? Even when sitting. He's not quite as tall as he'd like to be, but he keeps his back straight. Tall people have a tendency to stoop. Small people are the opposite. They have a tendency to keep their backs straight in order to try and make themselves look taller."

"And he's not tall," Mahmoud said, referring to the other man.

"Correct. What does it for me most, though, is Zeus's eyes. You may not have, but I've seen a photo of someone with big dark eyes like that. Two people, in fact."

Mahmoud sat back in her chair. "So let me get this straight. You're saying they're related? Him and him?"

"I'm saying I think there's a strong likelihood of that being the case."

"Ruddy Nora. It can't be — can it?"

"In context, it makes sense. I know for a fact that they have history. There's no love lost between them."

"But to take it this far…?"

"No one can hate quite like family can hate."

"But…" Mahmoud could think of a whole host of further objections, and wished that any of them was strong enough to withstand the weight of Sam's evidence. If what her friend and colleague was saying was true, then the Titans had been very much misled.

"I am," said Sam, "so much less quick on the uptake than I should be. This has been staring me in the face for weeks."

She gestured at Zeus onscreen.

"Staring me in his face."