China Miéville - The City & The City

For all their help with this book Im extremely grateful to Stefanie Bierwerth, Mark Bould, Christine Cabello, Mic Cheetham, Julie Crisp, Simon Kavanagh, Penny Haynes, Chloe Healy, Deanna Hoak, Peter Lavery, Farah Mendlesohn, Jemima Miville, David Moench, Sue Moe, Sandy Rankin, Maria Rejt, Rebecca Saunders, Max Schaefer, Jane Soodalter, Jesse Soodalter, Dave Stevenson, Paul Taunton, and to my editors Chris Schluep and Jeremy Trevathan. My sincere thanks to all at Del Rey and Macmillan. Thanks to John Curran Davis for his wonderful translations of Bruno Schulz.

Among the countless writers to whom Im indebted, those Im particularly aware of and grateful to with regard to this book include Raymond Chandler, Franz Kafka, Alfred Kubin, Jan Morris, and Bruno Schulz.

Deep inside the town there open up, so to speak, double streets, doppelganger streets, mendacious and delusive streets.

Bruno Schulz, The Cinnamon Shops and Other Stories

I COULD NOT SEE THE STREET or much of the estate. We were enclosed by dirt-coloured blocks, from windows out of which leaned vested men and women with morning hair and mugs of drink, eating breakfast and watching us. This open ground between the buildings had once been sculpted. It pitched like a golf coursea childs mimicking of geography. Maybe they had been going to wood it and put in a pond. There was a copse but the saplings were dead.

The grass was weedy, threaded with paths footwalked between rubbish, rutted by wheel tracks. There were police at various tasks. I wasnt the first detective thereI saw Bardo Naustin and a couple of othersbut I was the most senior. I followed the sergeant to where most of my colleagues clustered, between a low derelict tower and a skateboard park ringed by big drum-shaped trash bins. Just beyond it we could hear the docks. A bunch of kids sat on a wall before standing officers. The gulls coiled over the gathering.

Inspector. I nodded at whomever that was. Someone offered a coffee but I shook my head and looked at the woman I had come to see.

She lay near the skate ramps. Nothing is still like the dead are still. The wind moves their hair, as it moved hers, and they dont respond at all. She was in an ugly pose, with legs crooked as if about to get up, her arms in a strange bend. Her face was to the ground.

A young woman, brown hair pulled into pigtails poking up like plants. She was almost naked, and it was sad to see her skin smooth that cold morning, unbroken by gooseflesh. She wore only laddered stockings, one high heel on. Seeing me look for it, a sergeant waved at me from a way off, from where she guarded the dropped shoe.

It was a couple of hours since the body had been discovered. I looked her over. I held my breath and bent down toward the dirt, to look at her face, but I could only see one open eye.

Wheres Shukman?

Not here yet, Inspector

Someone call him, tell him to get a move on. I smacked my watch. I was in charge of what we called the mise-en-crime. No one would move her until Shukman the patho had come, but there were other things to do. I checked sightlines. We were out of the way and the garbage containers obscured us, but I could feel attention on us like insects, from all over the estate. We milled.

There was a wet mattress on its edge between two of the bins, by a spread of rusting iron pieces interwoven with discarded chains. That was on her. The constable who spoke was Lizbyet Corwi, a smart young woman Id worked with a couple of times. Couldnt exactly say she was well hidden, but it sort of made her look like a pile of rubbish, I guess. I could see a rough rectangle of darker earth surrounding the dead womanthe remains of the mattress-sheltered dew. Naustin was squatting by it, staring at the earth.

The kids who found her tipped it half off, Corwi said.

How did they find her?

Corwi pointed at the earth, at little scuffs of animal paws.

Stopped her getting mauled. Ran like hell when they saw what it was, made the call. Our lot, when they arrived She glanced at two patrolmen I didnt know.

They moved it?

She nodded. See if she was still alive, they said.

What are their names?

Shushkil and Briamiv.

And these are the finders? I nodded at the guarded kids. There were two girls, two guys. Midteens, cold, looking down.

Yeah. Chewers.

Early morning pick-you-up?

Thats dedication, hm? she said. Maybe theyre up for junkies of the month or some shit. They got here a bit before seven. The skate pits organised that way, apparently. Its only been built a couple of years, used to be nothing, but the localsve got their shift patterns down. Midnight to nine a.m., chewers only; nine to eleven, local gang plans the day; eleven to midnight, skateboards and rollerblades.

They carrying?

One of the boys has a little shiv, but really little. Couldnt mug a milkrat with itits a toy. And a chew each. Thats it. She shrugged. The dope wasnt on them; we found it by the wall, butshrugthey were the only ones around.

She motioned over one of our colleagues and opened the bag he carried. Little bundles of resin-slathered grass. Feld is its street namea tough crossbreed of Catha edulis spiked with tobacco and caffeine and stronger stuff, and fibreglass threads or similar to abrade the gums and get it into the blood. Its name is a trilingual pun: its khat where its grown, and the animal called cat in English is feld in our own language. I sniffed it and it was pretty low-grade stuff. I walked over to where the four teenagers shivered in their puffy jackets.

Sup, policeman? said one boy in a Bes-accented approximation of hip-hop English. He looked up and met my eye, but he was pale. Neither he nor any of his companions looked well. From where they sat they could not have seen the dead woman, but they did not even look in her direction.

They must have known wed find the feld, and that wed know it was theirs. They could have said nothing, just run.

Im Inspector Borl, I said. Extreme Crime Squad.

I did not say Im Tyador. A difficult age to question, thistoo old for first names, euphemisms and toys, not yet old enough to be straightforward opponents in interviews, when at least the rules were clear. Whats your name? The boy hesitated, considered using whatever slang handle hed granted himself, did not.

Vilyem Barichi.

You found her? He nodded, and his friends nodded after him. Tell me.

We come here because, cause, and Vilyem waited, but I said nothing about his drugs. He looked down. And we seen something under that mattress and we pulled it off.

There was some His friends looked up as Vilyem hesitated, obviously superstitious.

Wolves? I said. They glanced at each other.

Yeah man, some scabby little pack was nosing around there and

So we thought it

How long after you got here? I said.

Vilyem shrugged. Dont know. Couple hours?

Anyone else around?

Saw some guys over there a while back.