Chapter Nineteen: In Which Little Happens but a Lot is Said
'After Jubilife, Veilstone is the second most important city in Sinnoh. Boasting a hugely successful financial district and the world's oldest suicide booth (a sixty-metre spike-lined pit inside a steel hut), it is far and away the biggest contributor to the Sinnish economy. It also has a long history of meteor showers, and even today there are strike shelters strategically placed around the city.'
—Ordi Nannsevei, The Big Book of Sinnish Cities
“Doesn't it seem to you like ordering their deaths was actually what got them involved?” Cyrus asked the Desk Sitter.
“Perhaps if you had done it as we told you to, things would have gone according to plan,” they replied haughtily.
“Look, I know you're knowledgeable about murder, but you
are a little out of touch,” Cyrus pointed out. “When was the last time you killed anyone?”
The Desk Sitter paused.
“It does not change the fact that they are not dead yet.”
“Yes, I'm working on it,” said Cyrus irritably. “Stop needling at me.”
“There is very little else for us to do,” the Desk Sitter told him.
“Well, this trap should work,” Cyrus replied. “I mean, Liza came up with it.”
“Ah yes,” said the Desk Sitter. “That one. We like her.”
“I know.” Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned forward on his desk. “But you can't deny that it's the actual order to kill them that got them involved. If they end up stopping us, you'll be to blame.”
“We were told they had to die,” the Desk Sitter said. “We do not fully understand why.”
“That's what makes it hard to see what's going on,” Cyrus replied. “I can only hope this all becomes clearer when we reach the point that the other you came from.”
“It is enough to make anyone confused,” agreed the Desk Sitter. “Even us.”
“You're very arrogant for a hallucination.”
“We are
not a hallucination,” said the Desk Sitter indignantly. “We are great and powerful, and humankind has feared us since—”
“Since they first looked out of the cave and saw the eyes looking back out of the dark, yes, I know,” said Cyrus wearily. “You've said it all before.”
“You keep forgetting our fearsomeness.”
“You don't give me a chance to.”
Cyrus and the Desk Sitter glared at each other for a while.
“Well, I'm going to get back to work,” Cyrus said eventually. “Don't bother me.”
“We do not bother. We
destroy.”
“Not right now you don't, you lunatic monster,” muttered Cyrus, and went back to his papers.
---
“How's your head now?” asked Ashley.
“Better, thanks,” I replied, vaguely surprised that he'd bothered asking me.
“Good. I thought you might faint in the reserve, and that would have been bad – the background consciousness of the Kadabra would have given you horrific mind-altering nightmares that could well have driven you permanently insane.”
“Really?”
“No, not really,” admitted Ashley.
“Are you going to tell us what the Kadabra told you or not?” asked Iago snappishly.
“All right, all right,” said Ashley mildly. “Calm down. They told me that they haven't been listening out for Galactic, so they don't know much about them – but they did overhear an unusual series of thoughts moving around the city.”
“What do you mean, an unusual series of thoughts?” I asked. “Are they thoughts about unusual things, or what?”
“Thoughts about unusual things in Veilstone? Come on, Pearl, you're smarter than that, aren't you?” asked Iago. “In a big city, people are thinking about all kinds of things, from murder to fraud to any of about four thousand fetishes.”
“All right. So what are unusual thoughts?”
“They were a dialogue,” said Ashley. “A dialogue between Cyrus Maragos and someone else, all taking place within Maragos' head.”
“OK, that
is unusual,” I said. “How do they know it was Maragos?”
“Because the other person kept calling him by name,” replied Ashley. “During the course of this dialogue, several references were made to a message that was apparently delivered to the other person, who then passed it on to Maragos.”
“And this message is...?”
“To have the three of us killed,” said Ashley matter-of-factly. “Which means that there is someone beyond Team Galactic who wants us dead, presumably to stop us interfering in the Team's affairs – which means that it must be in their interest to see to it that they succeed.”
“Does that help us at all?”
“What do you say to doing some of the detective work for once?” asked Ashley. “Tell me if that helps us.”
“Uh...” I thought about it. C
ome on, Pearl, you're a detective now. You can do this! “I guess it means we need to look for who this person is...”
“No, it doesn't help us,” interrupted Iago wearily. “To find this person, we need to find Maragos. Ultimately, everything ends with him.”
“Yes, it does,” agreed Ashley. “It's strange... What I want to know is whether this is the same Cyrus Maragos who gave the speech in Sunyshore – and if so, what changed him from minor politician to criminal mastermind.”
I hadn't made the connection before, but now that Ashley had said it, it was so blindingly obvious that I felt like an idiot for missing it. He'd been in the news, I remembered; there was definitely something weird about him, and there couldn't be that many people named Cyrus Maragos in Sinnoh...
“You think
he's the guy we're after?”
“Maybe,” replied Ashley. “Anything is possible, after all.” He looked out of the window. “Ah. It's stopped raining.”
“I hate comments about the weather,” said Iago. “They're so irrelevant. Then again, humans like to busy themselves about inconsistencies, don't they?”
I gave him a look, and he looked back for a minute before glaring at Ashley.
“What did you say to her, you mutant bratchny?”
“I merely enlightened her about the precise differences between Kadabra and humans,” he replied with a little smile. “She was very sympathetic, actually.”
Iago turned his eyes on me, and they blazed with such ferocity that I shrank back in my seat.
“Well, it wasn't sympathy as
such,” I began weakly, and trailed off with a nervous laugh.
“Don't you
ever—” snarled Iago, but Ashley tapped him on the shoulder.
“Ah, leave her alone,” he said. “She can be very annoying, yes, what with her insistence on eating and coming along with us, but I have to say that Pearl is growing on me. Haven't you noticed that I've stopped being horrible to her?”
“Don't worry, I'll do it enough for both of us—”
“No,” said Ashley sharply. “I like Pearl now, and that means she has my protection. Do I make myself clear?”
Iago muttered something into his moustache and fell silent. Ashley smiled at me over his head, and left me feeling slightly weird for the rest of the journey, though I couldn't have said why.
---
“So, Ishmael,” said Ellen, “how is it that we can find out where this weak point is?”
Following Team Galactic, replied Pigzie Doodle.
It's simple. From listening to what Liza says, they're conducting some sort of investigation into space and time – that's where I got the idea of there being a weak spot from.
“You aren't basing this on any factual evidence, then?”
Hell no! cried the Duskull.
I made up this whole plan on the spot. But it makes sense, right? If there's a weak spot in the fabric of spacetime, it stands to reason that the laws of nature are weak there, too. And if they're going to find this weak spot, then we can follow them and find it too.
“You made this all up, didn't you?”
Yes I did. Do you know why? Because I'm smart. And hey, here comes Jeeves.
“Who?”
Ellen looked up, confused, and saw a sinister black motor-car coming around the corner, apparently driverless; as it came closer, she could make out the translucent form of Bond at the wheel.
“Madam,” he said, bringing the car to a halt next to her and getting out to open the back door. “Your motor-car.”
“Where did you get it?” asked Ellen. “It looks just like the other one!”
“There is a chain of shops, madam – purveyors of sinister black motor-cars to those of ill intent. They appear to have branches in most major cities. I... acquired... both of the motor-cars from them.”
“Oh. That's all right, then.” Ellen indicated Pigzie Doodle. “Bond, Pigzie Doodle came back!”
Bond looked. Indeed, he said, it seemed that the Duskull had returned. Why, he enquired politely and without the slightest hint of suspicion, was this?
Fortune and glory, kid, said Pigzie Doodle.
Fortune and glory. He chuckled, and the energy made his eye bounce up and down inside him.
No, but in all seriousness, I'm going to help you guys speak to Tristan Shandy so you can alert everyone to what Liza Radley is, and then I'm going to earn my place in history.
Bond turned to Ellen.
“Madam, what precisely did he say?”
“He knows of a way we can contact Tristan!” And Ellen explained it all to Bond, only she was a little confused by all this 'spacetime' business, and it might have come out a little garbled.
“I see,” said Bond, who, having had things explained to him by Ellen, almost certainly did not. “Most intriguing. In that case, we ought to make our way to Veilstone, should we not? I believe Pigzie Doodle—”
Ishmael! snapped the Duskull furiously.
“—said that they were based there,” continued Bond without pausing, which was understandable since he could not hear him.
Good God, I need to change my name, said Pigzie Doodle dispiritedly.
Why on earth haven't I done it already, that's what I want to know. And I suppose my question's never going to be answered. Actually, who named me? And he fell into a pensive silence.
“Yes, I believe that's right, Bond,” said Ellen, getting into the car. “Shall we go, then?”
“Naturally, madam,” replied Bond, shutting the door behind her and returning to his seat in the front. “Is our spectral benefactor coming?”
Yeah, yeah, muttered Pigzie Doodle.
I'm coming. He drifted in through the roof and came to a rest above the passenger seat.
Hit it, Jeeves.
“Did he say something, madam?”
“He said: 'Hit it, Jeeves',” Ellen told him helpfully. “Whatever that might mean.”
“Very good, sir,” Bond said to Pigzie Doodle, who looked at him in an appreciative sort of way.
Now, I like that, he said, and the sinister black motor-car made its sinister way through the darkening streets of Jubilife.
---
On balance, I decided I didn't like Veilstone. OK, so it was huge, full of shops, clubs and some amazing hotels – but it was also full of
dust. There was a thin grey layer of the stuff over every street; you'd have thought that all the people walking down each street would have churned it away years ago, but it seemed to cling tenaciously to the ground like a drowning man to a rope. It wouldn't rise into the air and dissipate; it stuck to the soles of your shoes, and to the sides of buildings, but that was as far as it would go. It was like the whole city was painted grey, and it made the place pretty ugly.
“What's with this dust?” I asked, as we left our taxi behind and headed for the nearest subway station. “It won't go away.”
“No, it won't,” agreed Ashley. “No one knows why.”
“That is
such a shoddy explanation.”
“Yes, but you can't very well dispute it. It's not as if
you know why.”
He had a point; I sighed and tried not to get any dust on my jeans. It probably wouldn't wash out.
“I have a theory that it isn't really dust, but tiny Rock-type Pokémon that resemble granite dust,” Ashley said.
“Really?”
“No, not really,” he said. “Come on, Pearl. You've fallen for exactly the same trick twice this afternoon, and it's not even three yet.”
“Huh. Are we going to the Galactic warehouse you mentioned?” I asked. “The ones your East-side 'acquaintances' told you about?”
“Actually, we're going to see my acquaintances,” Ashley said. “I don't actually know where the warehouse is, and the fastest way of finding it would be to ask them.”
“Some detective.”
“That was wholly uncalled-for,” Ashley said, raising his eyebrows. “I don't have to keep being nice to you, you know. I could go back to treating you like a lobotomised Panpour.”
“What's a Panpour?”
“Something that should never have been born,” Iago replied darkly, which kind of put an end to the conversation.
Ten minutes later, we got to a subway station; as we descended the steps, I asked Ashley why he was taking public transport instead of a taxi, and he replied that he was tired of paying for them. At that point, I pointed out that
I'd been paying for them, which he chose to ignore.
The train was quite crowded – which struck me as strange, since it was only three o'clock. Most of the people on board were kids as well, and a lot of them were dressed pretty weirdly. I didn't actually realise the significance of any of this until we got off and went back up above ground to the street, where I saw that we were directly opposite Veilstone City's Pokémon Gym.
Like Eterna's, it was old and belonged to a time before the rest of the city had even been dreamed of; it had once been a watchtower or something, judging by the look of it, and it had been expanded at the base to accommodate the arenas within. That wasn't the main attraction, though – that was the huge crowd of weird-looking kids gathered outside in the street, and the large temporary stage that had been set up in their midst. TV cameras and boom mikes were dotted around, swinging from side to side as if looking for prey; there even seemed to be fencing at points around the street, to keep the traffic out. Whatever was going on, it was planned and it was big.
“What's this?” Ashley wondered. “Oh, I remember – Wake was supposed to visit Marlene for a televised battle today.” He sighed. “How tiresome. I'd better catch her before the fight begins.”
Of course – the odd kids were Trainers. That made sense, given what I'd learned about Trainer fashion sense from Marley.
“A Gym Leader battle?” I asked, interested. “Can't we stay and watch?”
“Well,
you can,” he said. “But I have a Galactic warehouse to infiltrate, and I'm not putting that off.”
I would have said more, but at that point I was shoved forwards by a group of Trainers trying to get out of the subway station and almost knocked over.
“I think we need to get out of this crowd,” murmured Ashley, and started to slink off to the left. Iago and I followed close behind, and after a few uncomfortable minutes, we had reached the barrier fence and got out of the crush. We made our way along the edge of the crowd, dodging the occasional surge of excited teenagers, and then along the side of the Gym building; it took far longer than I would have liked, but we did eventually get to the door, whereupon we were immediately stopped by a man who looked like he was strong enough that he had to register his hands as deadly weapons.
“Sorry, guys,” he said. “Gym's closed. Can't you see that?”
“Maylene will make an exception for me,” said Ashley.
“Really.” It was not a question. The big man leaned back and folded meaty arms. “What, you her boyfriend or something?”
Ashley raised an eyebrow, which made me
ridiculously envious – I can only lift both at once.
“To be honest, I would have thought you were too busy grieving to come into work today,” he said. “In my experience, jilted lovers tend to be a lot less composed than you are. But then you are composed,” he went on, sounding interested now, “so you either have incredible emotional strength or you didn't care about her, which was rather nasty considering you've been married a year already. Now why wouldn't you care? I suspect an affair – and in fact you're going to take your new lover out today, right after you finish work. I think she'll like it, unless she's allergic to seafood.”
The man stared at him, and so did I. Unless I was very much mistaken, I'd just seen the full power of a true detective at first hand.
“Wha...?”
“Oh, please,” said Ashley, shaking his head. “You make it far too easy. There's a pale band of skin where your wedding ring used to be; since the skin is quite noticeably more tanned, you've obviously been wearing it at least one summer. Now, I'll admit that I guessed at the length of your relationship, but I was fairly certain it would be a year or under; if I recall correctly, 65% of Sinnish marriages currently end in divorce, and 81% of those fall apart within the first eighteen months. In addition to that, you don't seem the sort of man who'd have the intellect to conceal an affair adequately for any length of time.
“I knew you had broken up because the ring was gone and yet you're far too well-turned-out for a martial artist Trainer coming to work at the Gym, even on a day like this. You're wearing an expensive aftershave, your fingernails are freshly cut – you missed the left edge of that one, by the way – and you're also freshly shaven. Finally, and most obviously, you aren't dressed like your colleague over there.” Ashley indicated another massive man over by the stage; he literally towered head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, and was dressed in that white outfit that martial artists wear. “Why would you be in work and so nicely prepared when you should still be upset over the collapse of your marriage? You must not have cared about your wife at all, so chances are you were having an affair, something that becomes more likely when we consider that the extent of your preparations today indicate that you probably planned to meet with your lover straight after work – which wouldn't leave you time to prepare later.
“As for the seafood, I noticed as we approached the edge of the tickets in your pocket. I can make out the word 'The' and the first letter of the next word, 'C'; the only shows in Veilstone at the moment that begin like that are
The Cheese Thief, a play at the Morlow Theatre, and
The China Dragon, a ballet at the Dupont. You are clearly not a ballet man, so it's far more likely you're going to the Morlow;
The Cheese Thief is also a romantic comedy, ideal for a date. And what do you eat after you've been to the Morlow? You're a Gym Trainer, you don't have enough money to go to an expensive restaurant – and there is an
excellent cheap seafood place two streets away from the Morlow that would suit your purpose admirably.”
The big man was still staring, and so was I. I had been hit by a horrible feeling that I was never going to be a good detective.
“You...” He seemed to be struggling for words. “How...”
“I just told you how. Now let me in.”
“Uh... no!” He recovered himself. “You can't come in.”
“Actually, I have an I.D. card here that says I can,” said Iago, holding it up.
“Yes,” said Ashley, far too quickly, “we have I.D. Look.” He grabbed the card off Iago and thrust it at the giant guard. He studied it carefully, suddenly looked very worried and opened the door.
“Right,” he said. “Go on in, sirs, ma'am.”
“Thank you,” said Ashley. “Come, Pearl.”
He swept in through the doorway, and I followed, still in a sort of trance.
“That. Was.
Incredible,” I hissed. “Jesus, Ashley, that was like something out of a movie!”
“Yeah, it was also completely pointless,” said Iago, more cynically. “Was that really necessary?”
“I forgot about the I.D.,” Ashley said stiffly. “And it sometimes works. The surprise makes people rather suggestible.”
“Huh? Ashley, is that you?”
“Oh, Lord,” groaned Ashley. “It's Wake.”
Standing before us were the two people who'd be competing in the battle outside, and they could not have been more different: one was the size of a bear and muscled to match, and the other was about eleven, tiny, and skinny as a rake. If my senses hadn't been dulled already by the shock of Ashley's detective power, I'd probably have been almost as shocked as I was when we met Cynthia: these were two of Sinnoh's Gym Leaders, 'Crasher' Wake and Maylene Roberts, and they were both within three feet of me.
“Ashley!” roared Crasher, snatching up his hand in a bone-crushing handshake. “It's been too long – I was beginning to think that you were avoiding me!”
“Yes, I wonder why that is,” said Ashley, withdrawing his hand and shaking it back into shape. “I actually came here to see—”
“And Iago!” cried Crasher, grabbing for the Kadabra's hand and missing; Iago had jumped backwards to avoid having the wrestler break his arm. “I guess it's because you go around with Ashley, but I don't see much of you either.”
“Yeah, blame Ashley,” muttered Iago. “Why don't you meet Pearl?”
Crasher turned to face me, which was actually quite alarming – it was like watching a mountain suddenly rotate on the spot.
“So you're Pearl, eh? I've heard about you!” He lurched towards me, and I stepped to one side before he crushed me. I decided that perhaps I didn't like him quite so much; he wasn't a nasty person, but he seemed to be quite dangerous. “Cynthia doesn't think much of you,” he confided.
“She doesn't?”
“I think she thinks you're trying to st—”
“Crasher!” interrupted Maylene suddenly, in a clear, high voice. “I think Mister Lacrimére is in a hurry, and I'd like to deal with it soon, so we can start our battle on time. Would you like to go outside for a while?”
“Outside?” Crasher considered. “Aha! To entertain the crowd, of course! Leave it to me, Maylene. I am a fabulous warm-up act!” And he strode out, bellowing his famous theme song: “The ring is my roiling seeeaaaaa...!”
The four of us who remained stood still for a moment, savouring the sudden silence. Then Maylene jumped up and wrapped her arms around Ashley's neck.
“Ashley!” she squealed. “You've come!”
Much to my surprise, Ashley smiled and hugged her back.
“Yes, I have,” he said. “Evidently you missed me.”
“Have you brought—”
“Not today,” he said sadly, peeling her off him and setting her back down on the floor. “Another time, yes?”
“OK,” agreed Maylene. “Did you come about the Galactics?”
“Yes.”
“I'll go get the address,” she said, and ran off down a corridor. She looked like a nimble little monkey, all thin limbs and spiky hair. Ashley watched her go for a while, and then turned to see me staring.
“What?” he said. “I like children.”
“I have never seen you show so much affection,” I told him. “What have you done with the real Ashley?”
“No, seriously,” said Iago. “If he wasn't a detective, he could be a children's entertainer. For some reason, they love him, and his massive ego feeds off that.”
“That's not true. I just like them, that's all, and they like me back.”
Maylene came back a moment later holding an envelope.
“This is what my people gave me,” she said. “This is the address.”
“Thanks,” said Ashley, ruffling her hair and taking the envelope from her. “You were right, Maylene, I was in a hurry, so I can't stay today.” Maylene looked disappointed, but nodded understandingly. “But I
do have another favour to ask of you.” Ashley indicated the door, through which we could faintly hear the sound of Crasher's singing. “Can we use the back door?”
---
Fifteen minutes later, we were in the heart of Veilstone's industrial district, looking up at one warehouse among a sea of hundreds; here, the dust on the ground had mixed with spilled oil to make a black paste, and there was graffiti on almost every wall you looked at. Ragged cranes rose up in their hundreds from behind the buildings; somehow, they seemed to me to be trying to escape. This was a bleak place, and it wasn't friendly.
It also had a lunatic Frenchman in it, which was something I wasn't expecting and didn't really want.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Gideon!” cried Looker, abandoning his staring at the warehouse and coming over to join us. “And
le Diamant!”
“What about me?” asked Iago. “Actually, no, I don't want to talk to you.”
“Monsieur Looker,” said Ashley, smiling. “I suppose your investigation of the Galactics brings you here?”
“Looking for the Galactics, ah, it can only lead me to Mademoiselle Radley,” explained Looker. “But I am not so sure now that this place is, how you say, of any significance.”
Ashley looked interested.
“What makes you say that?”
“Why, monsieur it is completely empty!” said Looker. “There is nothing in there. I can find no secret passage or concealed clues.”
“Nothing at all?” I asked. “There has to be
something, right?”
“If there is, I expect
le Diamant could find it,” said Looker, casting a reverential glance at Ashley. “If you would thank?”
“Eh? I think you mean 'If you please',” said Ashley. “But yes, I'll take a look. Pearl, you're coming with me.”
“Why?”
“Because I need someone to explain things to as I find them out, and Iago has been in a bad mood since we left the reserve.”
“Why not Looker?” I asked. “He's your number one fan.”
“Yes, why
not Looker?” asked Looker eagerly.
“Because he's too eager,” said Ashley. “There's no point if someone agrees with everything I say. I need someone who fights back a little bit – just enough for me to prove them wrong.”
“Oh yeah. That
really makes me want to go with— hey, let go of my arm!”
“I am not listening to you right now.”
So saying, Ashley dragged me into the warehouse and slammed the door behind us.
---
Iago and Looker exchanged looks.
“He knows what he is doing,
non?” asked Looker.
“How the hell should I know?” replied Iago irritably. “He's Ashley Lacrimére. Half the time he's a genius and half the time he's making stuff up as he goes along.”
“Ah, I see,” said Looker, who, thanks to the language barrier, did not. “Let us hope this is the best of halves!”
Iago stared at him for a moment, tried to decipher what he'd just said and gave up.
---
“Wow,” I said. “Looker was right.”
There really was nothing in here. The warehouse wasn't that big, and even in the gloom we could see clear across to the other sides; there was nothing there. No crates full of suspicious artefacts, no cages full of unevolved Pokémon, no gigantic van-based batteries... Nothing that seemed connected with Team Galactic at all. In fact, nothing
period. This place was empty.
“Oh.” Ashley looked around. “Ah. Pearl, I'm sorry.”
“What? Why?”
“This is a trap.”
“
What? How can you tell?”
“When I walk into a room and the door locks behind me, it usually indicates a trap.”
“The door
what?”
I turned around and wrenched at the handle – but Ashley was right. It was stuck fast.
“What do we do?” I asked, trying not to hyperventilate. “What do we do? Is there going to be nerve gas? People with guns? A giant, angry Pokémon? Will they flood the place? Oh God, they're going to flood the place, aren't they? Drowning sounds like such a painful way to go—!”
“Pearl!” snapped Ashley. “Shut up!”
I did. He grabbed my shoulders and looked at me very intently; far away in the back of my head, a little voice told me that life was
finally turning into a movie, and that I'd seen this exact scene in the cinema a few weeks ago.
“Listen very carefully,” he said. “I shall say this only once. You're not going to die, Pearl. Do you remember what I said in Hearthome? The reason I've let you come with me is so that you don't get hurt. I can guarantee that whatever is in this room, I can protect you from it.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” snapped Ashley. “My God, this is like trying to talk to a stuffed animal.”
“Sorry.”
“Now, as to your earlier question...” Ashley let go of me and cast his gaze across the room. “This warehouse is definitely smaller on the inside than it is on the outside, which allows for the possibility of hidden compartments in the walls and ceiling. Look up at those ventilation ducts there: they're abnormally large. This can only be one sort of trap.”
“What is it?” I asked, noticing for the first time a low, booming droning. It had been there all along, I realised, but now it was getting louder, as if something were coming closer—
“A honeytrap,” said Ashley, and the bees arrived.
