POSTHUMAN

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Marcus was strapped into a passenger seat of a VTOL cargo jet. He and Philip accompanied Tristan and his team to Hanoi ostensibly to get those supplies not available out in the Pacific. His window was open and he could hear the bustle of the city beneath him. There was once a time when over 6 million people lived here, now just over 700,000 called Hanoi their home. From the noise and rich aroma which managed to reach him in the cabin, he thought that back in the 21st century the experience of visiting here must have been overwhelming.

     The cargo jet slowed as they passed over West Lake, he spotted where he was meant to rendezvous with Clement. The Hanoi Club, with its pristine, white structure and swimming pool that jutted out onto the lake. "Ioelu, could you set me down on that hotel's jetty?"

        "Sure, give me a second to turn us around," replied Ioelu, his voice a little tinny over the PA.

He dangled on a cord above the lake's clear waters as the aircraft carefully edged him towards the jetty. His toes soon brushed the concrete so he hopped to the ground and tugged once on the wire. It disappeared inside the cabin and as the jet carried on across the lake he saw Tristan wave to him. Marcus turned around, he was startled to see that Clement stood directly behind him. "Jesus Christ!" he clutched at his heart, "Did you do that just to mess with me?"

        "Yes I did," Clement chuckled as patted his old comrade on the back. "We'll talk in the Tivoli Café; I don't like talking about work in a place where the wait staff are expected to keep checking on you. Rule number five of international espionage: people standing over your shoulder are not your friend."

        The café could have been anywhere on the world, this place clearly catered for rich Westerners and for those rich Easterners who got enough of home out on the street. Little hanging baskets were set back about a foot from the tops of pulled-up blinds, the eatery was filled with natural light and the walls themselves were neutral colours. Paintings on the walls helped to break up the trendy blandness. The tiny plate in front of him had a brownie that cost too much and an equally extortionate slice of carrot cake; he had very nearly slapped the barista when he discovered the total for a cappuccino and two bits of sugary nothing.

      "Where's Daystar?" he managed to stop brooding over pricing and get to business, he was obliged to use Morgan's codename.

      "Daystar is opening another savings account," answered Clement, so Stern was involved in another initiative for DIGA, that was a worrying development.

        "Don't be alarmed, something is about to happen, we'll be able to talk about what we're here for through a third-party," Marcus did not know how Clement would react to Philip's gift. The spy gave him a questioning look but slowly nodded and returned to his own coffee.

        'Commandant Ncube, how are you?' Philip's thoughts entered Clement's mind.

        "Holy mother of fuck!" Clement had to try very hard not to spit his coffee all over Marcus. Marcus near enough crowed with laughter, his knowing gaze communicated to Clement that he understood what was going on. Then Marcus spoke from within Clement's head, 'Philip can facilitate mental communication between us like a human router for as long as he concentrates on each of us and we stay within his range.'

        'This might be the strangest thing to have ever happened anywhere...What was so important you had to go to all this trouble?'asked Clement, trying to get used to the sensation of talking with his mind.

        'Well, Clement, to explain that, I'm going to need quite a bit of time...'

'You want me to go rogue, with you and Albion? Why on earth would I do that?' Clement was apprehensive, and understandably so since Marcus had summarised for him the past ten years of his life and his new mission.