Acolyte (25 page)

Jonah felt numbness spread through him as the words sank in. He opened his mouth but found he couldn't speak.

Hopkins smiled again. ‘Choice made,' he said, then leaned to the intercom. ‘Begin,' he said.

‘No!'
shouted Jonah. ‘Please. I choose me.
I choose me.
' Hopkins loomed over him, forcing the mask back over his face as Jonah continued to plead.

‘The choice was made, Jonah,' said Hopkins.

Jonah braced for it, trying to twist his head to block out the sound as Never started screaming. But this time it was even worse, and it felt eternal.

When it finally stopped Jonah could feel himself start to pass out. A sharp odour brought him back, face to face with a contented smile as Hopkins waved something under his nose. ‘Don't bail out on me, Jonah. We're making such good progress. Now, here it comes. I'll take your mask off again. You will convince me. Or your friend will die. Do you understand?'

Jonah knew he didn't understand anything any more. He nodded all the same.

Hopkins removed Jonah's mask and flipped the intercom back on, to the immediate sound of Never's muffled pleading. ‘My colleague will kill your friend, Jonah. Convince me.'

‘I haven't had any contact with Tess,' Jonah said, his shivering enough to make his chair rattle. It brought back thoughts of the
gurney Mary Connart had been on as she screamed. ‘I haven't seen Tess since the fire.'

‘Convince me.'

‘Please, I haven't seen Tess. I haven't seen her. Please. Let him go.
Let him go.
'

‘Convince me
.
'

‘She ran, she ran and she got away and I haven't –
PLEASE, PLEASE, BELIEVE ME, LET HIM GO
…'

Hopkins held up a hand and nodded. ‘I believe you, Jonah.' He reached over and replaced the mask. Jonah didn't struggle. ‘We'll call that … ninety per cent?' Hopkins turned to the intercom. ‘I think we're done with Mr Geary,' he said. ‘Finish it.' The gunshot overlapped Jonah's own muffled shout of his best friend's name.

Jonah looked at Hopkins with hatred. ‘What would you have me do?' asked Hopkins, his face earnest. Jonah sagged, staring ahead. ‘The only option would be to keep hurting him. Is that what you wanted? Of course not. Now it's just you and me.' He leaned to the intercom. ‘You can head on home once you've put the body into storage, Jeff,' he said. ‘The cleaners will sort everything else out in the morning. I'll lock up when I go.' He flipped the intercom off again and turned to Jonah. ‘My employers want you alive, useful leverage for when they finally locate Tess Neil. Your friend, they didn't care about. He'll be revived tomorrow when one of our revivers becomes available. Did you know that research was done into how best to kill, to maximize the chance of a successful revival?' Hopkins smiled, looking wistful. ‘The results always fascinated me. The most reliable forms of lethal injection tend to significantly reduce revival chances, which rules them out. The most humane method to kill, for those so inclined, is inert gas asphyxiation; a simple mask supplying only nitrogen, for example. Rapid loss of consciousness, entirely painless. Inexpensive, too! Anyone who tells you that the death penalty isn't about retribution, just ask them how they would feel about giving a murderer such a peaceful death. For revival, however, the method exposes
the revived subject to an increased risk of dissociative fragmentation; more chance of being vague and unfocused, useless to us. The best ways are those that are quick, painful and loud. The subject comes back angry and scared. And best of all, talkative.' He nodded towards the wall, indicating the neighbouring room. ‘Single shot to the heart. Standard practice. Now as I said, we're
almost
done. Just that last ten per cent. I have a few more things I'd love to try out, and I so rarely get the chance these days. Not since the revivers came.' Hopkins paused, and for a moment he looked at Jonah with real malice. Then his smile returned. ‘We have such a range. Mechanical, electrical, chemical. Things that cause exquisite agonies, without damage. It's my life's work. I think you'll find it interesting.'

Hopkins reached back to his table. ‘I want you to see how far I've come,' he said, rummaging. ‘I know you think me the lowest of the low, Jonah. You think of your own career as if everything you've done has been for the greater good. Then you think of what I do, and you want to spit in my face. But you don't know me. You can't
judge
me. Really, I'm a forward thinker. An innovator. Technology has brought us many wonders, Jonah.' He turned. In his hand was a bizarre metal implement that Jonah didn't want to see, or understand. ‘Let me share them with you.'

There was a noise from the far wall: a creak of the door.

‘I said I'll lock up, Jeff,' said Hopkins, angry at the interruption, starting to turn. ‘You know how much I look forward to my private time—'

Hopkins stopped. Jonah looked. The door had swung open, but it wasn't Jeff. Standing in the doorway, with face and clothes covered in blood, was someone else entirely.

‘Evening,' said Never Geary, sounding exhausted. ‘You weren't fucking expecting to see
me
again, were you?' He looked like he could hardly stand, but the grin was broad and angry, the tone as cocky as ever. Then Never backed away into the corridor, out of sight.

For a moment Jonah's heart soared, but Hopkins reached over, his face dark and – Jonah struggled to identify the expression –
offended.
Setting his chosen implement back down, Hopkins took a gun from the side and strode to the door.

‘I don't know what you think you're going to be able to do, Mr Geary, but you won't get out of this building.'

Gun raised, Hopkins leaned out through the doorway, looking to where Never had gone. An arm appeared from behind the door itself and thrust out towards Hopkins. Jonah could hear the loud crackle of a stun gun. He watched with satisfaction as Hopkins fell, twitching.

The owner of the arm stepped around the door and strode over to where Jonah was strapped in place, looking at him with cold, assessing eyes that Jonah hadn't seen in almost eighteen months.

‘Jonah Miller,' said Kendrick. ‘It's been a while.'

Jonah watched Kendrick come closer. Part of him was certain he was imagining this; that the sight of Never in the doorway had been entirely in his own mind, and that seeing Hopkins drop unconscious to the floor was pure fantasy.

Kendrick was wearing a dark suit and black gloves, and was holding the gun Hopkins had taken when he'd gone after Never. He set the gun down on the table beside Jonah and undid the mask straps.

Jonah's eyes did not leave the man's face. There was – dear God – real concern there, Jonah thought.

Kendrick. This was the man who had pushed through the illicit experiments that Hopkins had referred to: researching how revival could be used as an interrogation technique, how best to kill a subject in preparation, how to force information out of them. How to train your own operatives to be able to resist, even after death.

In turn, those experiments had led to an attempt to revive a living subject – to use cryogenic techniques to take the living to a state between life and death, and see if revival could be achieved. Instead, the experiments had opened doors that had revealed the Elders. They had paved the way for Andreas's plans; they had spawned Unity and all that came after.

Kendrick was, in a very real sense, to blame for it all.

And the last time Jonah had seen him, it had been moments
before one of Kendrick's own men had shot Jonah as he gave Tess Neil her chance to escape.

This
had
to all be in his mind.

‘You're not real,' said Jonah. ‘None of this is real.'

From the doorway came a dragging sound, a hunched figure moving backwards into the room.

‘Mr Geary,' Kendrick called, turning his head. ‘Your friend needs reassurance that we're real.' Kendrick turned back and set about untying the restraints that held Jonah to the chair.

The hunched figure stood and turned, leaving the unconscious Hopkins on the floor. ‘Hey,' said Never. ‘It's me.' He smiled, but it was a broken one. He looked exhausted; blood covered his face and chest. Jonah gaped at it.

‘The blood's not his,' said Kendrick. ‘It belongs to his
advisor.
' He looked at Never. ‘If I'd had the opportunity to act earlier, I would have, but I had to be cautious. This building has a lockdown system that even I can't override. If it had been triggered we would have been stuck here. I apologize.' Staying silent, Never nodded once.

Kendrick unfastened the last restraint. Startled by the sudden freedom, Jonah sat upright, then attempted to stand. Kendrick lent him an arm for support, either not noticing or ignoring Jonah's look of mistrust.

Everything hurt. His back was the worst, but the competition was fierce.

‘What do we do with him?' said Never, nodding to Hopkins on the floor.

Kendrick guided Jonah away from the seat. Still weak, Jonah leaned against the wall while Kendrick bent down to lift Hopkins under the arms. ‘Grab his feet,' Kendrick said, and Never obliged. Together they placed him in the chair. Kendrick fastened the straps around his arms and legs, Jonah observing just how proficient he seemed at the task. A little too familiar.

The table was still in arm's reach. Instinctively, Jonah stepped
forwards and took the gun that Kendrick had left there. He backed away with the gun raised.

Kendrick turned slowly. ‘No need for that, Jonah,' he said.

Behind him, Never quietly sidled out of the line of fire, frowning. ‘What's the problem?' he said.

‘You haven't actually laid eyes on Kendrick before,' said Jonah. ‘Allow me to introduce you.'

‘Oh,' said Never, eyes wide, looking Kendrick up and down. ‘Shit. Right. Your reputation precedes you.' He turned to Jonah. ‘When he killed the other fucker, he just said he was here to get us out. I was assuming it was a cavalry moment. Turns out it's more of a frying-pan/fire thing.'

‘Right now,' said Jonah, ‘I have no idea
what
this is.'

‘Well, you'd better decide fast,' said Kendrick. ‘We don't have the luxury of time.'

‘You think I'm going to trust you after everything you've done?' said Jonah.

‘If you think this is an elaborate ploy, then I'm flattered. But even I would draw the line at killing my own staff.'

Jonah looked over at Never, who nodded. ‘The man in the next room
is
thoroughly dead.'

Jonah kept pointing the gun at Kendrick. ‘So why are you here?'

‘It was my team that pulled Andreas from the fire,' Kendrick said. ‘I helped him recover. By the time I found out what he really was, his influence was too strong for me to do much about. I'd been used, Jonah, used to undermine the security infrastructure I'd devoted my life to. Now I want to stop him.'

‘But why are you
here
?'

‘I promised someone I'd keep you safe.'

Jonah looked into the man's eyes, the eyes of a professional liar. He lowered the gun, all the same.

‘Do you think we can believe him?' asked Never.

‘I think we have no choice,' said Jonah. He turned the gun and offered it grip-first to Kendrick.

Kendrick took it, smiling. Again, the nature of the smile took Jonah by surprise. There was nothing triumphant about it. ‘Good decision,' said Kendrick. ‘Now, there's something I need to know.' He looked Jonah in the eye, his expression serious. ‘Is it true that you can see them? The shadows some of them carry?'

Jonah nodded. ‘I don't know how to control the ability, but yes. I can see them.'

Kendrick pointed to Hopkins, still out cold and strapped to the seat. ‘And does he carry one? Look at him, Jonah.
Does he have one?
'

Jonah looked. He hadn't seen a shadow there before, and couldn't see one now – but then, he'd had other concerns, other distractions. He kept looking, with Kendrick's eager eyes watching his face. He tried to bring back the feelings he'd had before, seeing the crouching presence on Torrance, and the squat pulsating creature that Heggarty had been host to.

‘Well?'
said Kendrick.

‘Nothing,' said Jonah. ‘As far as I can tell. I can't be absolutely certain, but …'

Kendrick nodded, looking oddly disappointed. ‘You two might want to step out for a while,' he said. ‘This may not be pretty.' He looked through the contents of the table by the seat and took an ampule, breaking it open under the man's nose. Hopkins gasped, immediately awake. Seeing Kendrick's face, he looked around at Jonah and Never. Kendrick reached for a syringe, filling it from the vial Hopkins had used earlier. He glanced at Jonah. ‘You'd be appalled if you knew how much this costs to produce,' he said. ‘At this concentration a few CCs is quite fatal. Not
quick
, but fatal. I'm not sure I can think of a more expensive way to kill someone.' He turned his gaze back to Hopkins. ‘Or more painful.'

‘You know I won't tell you anything,' said Hopkins, watching the syringe. There was contempt in his voice but fear in his eyes. Jonah found it hard not to take a degree of satisfaction from that.

‘Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't. But I doubt you know anything that'd be worth a damn to me anyway. Who wants the honour? How about you, Never?' Kendrick offered the syringe. Staring at it, Never shook his head. ‘Or you, Jonah? No? Very well.'

Hopkins started to babble as Kendrick exposed his forearm. ‘It wasn't personal, Kendrick. You know it wasn't personal. Dear God, nobody deserves this, nobody—'

The needle entered his arm.

‘
You
do,' said Kendrick. ‘You always did enjoy these things a little too much.' He plunged the drug into the man's vein.