Acolyte (3 page)

‘Glad you came so fast,' said Flores. ‘Park up and get your things inside. We'll talk there.' She headed through a doorway that had been wedged open.

Jonah parked, turned off the ignition, and looked at Never. ‘Ready?'

‘We're risking bringing down some serious fuckery on our heads here, Jonah. Exactly
why
are we doing this?'

‘First,' said Jonah, ‘a boy was murdered for pocket change. The police want to find out what he saw. And second …' He paused. The crime was one thing. He would always feel a powerful drive to help bring justice, whatever the situation, but it had only been when Hugo had told him the rest of the background that his mind had been made up.

‘Second?' asked Never.

‘A mother wants to say goodbye to her son.'

*

Like most hospitals with a busy ER, there was an area reserved for on-site revivals of patients who had died during transit or treatment. Such facilities were often barely adequate, but the FRS teams were used to making do.

‘Ah,' said Never when he saw it, grimacing. It was about twenty feet square, with a separate narrow strip partitioned off to form a small room within the larger. This allowed the technician to sit with the overseeing detective and avoid being a distraction to the reviver as they worked, watching through a large window. The boy's body was already there, on a gurney in the far corner.

The problem was that the room had become an ad hoc storage area, with boxes of medical supplies piled three high everywhere.

Detective Flores apologized. ‘We tried to get as much moved as we could, but …'

‘I know,' said Never. ‘Often happens. These places end up being used as dumping grounds. We'll manage.'

‘How long before you're ready?' Flores asked.

‘Maybe ten minutes to clear a sufficient working area, then thirty for me to set up. Jonah?'

Jonah was in the corner, examining the subject. The boy looked much younger than his fifteen years. He was still intubated, with tape over his eyes that had been left after the failed surgery, his upper body naked. A six-inch incision was gaping in his abdomen, pads packed inside it to soak up the blood.

The location of the stab wound was in their favour, he thought, an abdominal injury not adding to the complications the way an injury to a lung often could.

He looked up at Never. ‘I'll be ready by then,' he said. ‘Detective, is the mother still sure she wants to speak to her son once we have his statement?'

‘She is.'

‘I'll need to talk to her first. And we'll need a blanket or something, to put on him before we start. To hide that wound.'

‘Understood,' said Flores. ‘You want to talk to her right away?'

Jonah took a deep breath.
Want
didn't exactly cover it, but it had to be done. ‘The sooner the better.'

*

Flores led Jonah out of the revival room, down a long corridor. She stopped where another detective stood: a man in his late forties, stout, grey-haired. Looking just as tired as Flores. The detective raised his hand as they approached.

‘You must be our reviver. Jonah Miller, right? Detective West.'

No handshakes had been offered by either detective, something that made it clear to Jonah that they'd either worked with revivers before or remembered their training well. Direct contact between a reviver and most non-revivers led to a sensation known as
chill.
It varied in strength, depending both on the reviver and on the other person. Some non-revivers didn't get chill at all, Annabel and Never among them. But for those who did, it ranged from a sense of cold – people often described it as someone walking over their graves – to a feeling of extreme fear and a taint of death. With Jonah, it was always at the more severe end of the scale.

‘Good to meet you, Detective.'

‘The boy's mother is in there,' said West, indicating the office they were standing outside. The door was closed but Jonah could see her through the small window, sitting, staring. Lost. Her expression was one he'd seen many times before. ‘Her name is
Katherine Leith. Maiden name. Changed it back when her husband left. You know the ex-husband is Clayton Fray, the—'

Jonah interrupted. ‘I know.'

‘Just checking,' said West. ‘Kid's name is Clayton David Fray Junior, but he uses the name David Leith. Says it all. The boy had been to the movies with some friends. Movie finished nine-forty-eight, the kid left his friends and was heading to a burrito place he loved, a five-minute walk, planned to get a cab home from there. Less than a minute from his destination, he was seen falling, while someone ran. There weren't many people around, all at distance, and only one who actually saw anything. We assume it was a mugging.'

Jonah nodded. ‘Any chance it was because of who his father is? Someone that high up in the Afterlifers is bound to have made enemies along the way.'

West shook his head. ‘There's nothing to suggest that. Besides, his mother says hardly anyone knows about his father. She managed to boot Fray out a long time ago, back when the Afterlifers were getting their hands dirty. The kid was six years old. Fray has treated her like dirt since, from what I hear – tried to wrestle the kid from her on any number of bullshit premises. The guy must have spent half his income on legal fees, just to make life hard for her. It's calmed down in the last few years. Kid's got older; I'm guessing Fray wondered why the hell would he want a teenager on his hands.'

A thought struck Jonah. He paused before voicing it. ‘And what if Fray wanted a new way to get back at his ex?'

West's eyes widened. He looked at Flores. ‘And I thought
I
was cynical.'

‘You are,' said Flores. ‘Comes with the job.' She turned to Jonah. ‘We've considered it. Fray sounds like the kind who wants to punish his ex-wife without significant risk. He's twisted, but gutless. We think this was just random.'

West stepped to the office door. ‘Shall we?'

Jonah nodded. West opened the door and entered, Jonah behind. Flores stayed outside, closing the door once Jonah was in.

‘Katherine,' said West, ‘this is Jonah Miller. He's the reviver.'

Katherine Leith said nothing; her eyes were vague and distant. Jonah pulled a chair over and sat beside her. ‘Katherine,' he started. Then, too fast for Jonah to react, Katherine's hands shot out and took his. He flinched, but with relief he realized there was no chill.

‘I have to speak to my boy,' she said, urgency in her voice, the lost look in her eyes changing to acute desperation.

‘I know. We need to talk some things over, first. To explain how we do it, that we—'

‘No
,
'
she said. ‘I mean we have to do it
now.
Before his father hears. Because once he does, he'll find a way to stop it.'

Jonah threw a look towards West. There was unease on the detective's face that was immediately infectious. Jonah nodded, slowly. ‘I understand,' he said. ‘We're going to start as soon as we can. You'll wait outside the revival room with Detective Flores while we proceed with the revival and find out what your son saw. When that's done, hopefully there'll be time to talk to him. The detective will bring you in. David will only hear me, so I'll have to repeat all that you say. You understand, Katherine? It'll take at least fifteen minutes to revive your son, but it could be much longer. A revival will only last a few minutes, and much of that will be taken up with the questioning. If it doesn't look like there'll be time, what would you like me to say?'

Katherine Leith squeezed Jonah's hand until it hurt, looking straight into his eyes. ‘There'll be time,' she said.

Jonah nodded, and stood. ‘I'll do what I can.'

As he and West emerged from the office, the county sheriff was standing with Flores. He didn't look happy.

‘This is Sheriff Garter,' said West to Jonah.

‘The Sheriff has bad news,' said Flores.

‘One of my deputies has gone, Detectives,' said Garter. ‘I think he has sympathies.'

West looked at him. ‘Afterlifer sympathies?'

‘Yes. He heard what was going on. Took himself off soon after. It's safe to assume he's passed the information on by now. If I was a betting man, I'd say we'll have company within an hour. Hopefully it'll take them longer than that to get a warrant, but if they come armed with one, there'll be nothing I can do.'

West gave Jonah a questioning look. ‘How does that sit with you, Jonah?'

‘It'll be tight. Depends on how long it takes to get the kid back, but – look, I have medication to take before I start. That needs five to ten minutes, so it's the set-up we'll be rushing. Let me get back there and see what Never has to say.'

*

On the way back Jonah paused at a water cooler. He took out his pack of meds, a variety of drugs that helped limit the after-effects of a revival. Jonah had more experience than most with how bad those effects could be. He washed down the cocktail of pills as he walked.

When they reached the revival area, Never was red-faced and out of breath. The boxes had been rearranged, piled five high in a few places, and some relocated to the corridor. Now there was enough space to let them get on with it; Never had already started to unpack and set up the recording equipment.

‘There's a problem,' Jonah told him.

‘Oh joy,' said Never. ‘What is it?'

‘We think the bad guys are on their way.'

‘They caught wind of it, then.'

‘Yep,' said Jonah. ‘So we need to hurry. How long?'

‘Normally another twenty minutes. You sure we have time?'

‘We have an hour to turn it around. If we start in twenty, it might be enough.'

He and Never shared an uneasy look, then Jonah stood back and let Never get on with the set-up, knowing he'd slow things down if he tried to help. Three cameras: close-up, mid- and wide-shot. Two laptops hooked up to them. It was only eight minutes later that Never went into the smaller room, where he'd set up the laptops, and started testing the signals. Two minutes more, and he came out with his thumb raised. ‘I have a bunch of other tests I'm happy to waive,' he said. ‘Just this once. We're not normally so
rushed.
Your meds kicked in?'

They had; Jonah felt a little light-headed. ‘All good. I'll get the audience.'

Flores stood waiting outside the door. ‘We're ready,' Jonah told her. She hurried off, bringing back West and Katherine Leith.

Jonah met them in the corridor. ‘I'll tell Detective West when you can be brought in, Katherine,' Jonah said. ‘Be careful stepping over the cabling on the floor inside. We'll not have long. Think about what you want to say. Keep it short and simple. Do you understand?' Katherine nodded. ‘This will be difficult, so if you change your mind, tell us at once, and don't be ashamed to say it.'

‘I won't change my mind,' said Katherine.

Jonah and West entered the room, Katherine and Flores staying in the corridor.

West shut the door. ‘Let's get on with it,' he said, walking into the monitoring room.

‘Here,' said Never, handing Jonah his earpiece. ‘Good luck.' He followed West and closed the door of the partitioned area behind him.

Jonah moved to where David Leith's body lay and looked at it for a moment. He thought of himself at fifteen years old, probably the worst time in his life – the year after his mother died.

He snapped out of it, hearing a buzzing. The sound was coming from the earpiece in his hand. He looked up at the observation window and could see that Never was speaking. He put the earpiece in place.

‘How's the soundproofing?' Never asked.

‘I couldn't hear a thing.'

‘The mics are picking you up well, so everything's good. That's the only seat I could find, take a minute to adjust it.'

Jonah looked at the ancient swivel chair beside the gurney, then back to the observation room. ‘What about you two?'

‘We have boxes.' Standing up, Never had a look at what he'd been sitting on. ‘I have disposable gloves. Detective West has scrubs. It'll do. Give the word when you're ready.'

Jonah sat in the chair Never had put out for him, pulling it closer to the gurney and adjusting the height. He took David Leith's hand, getting a feel for how it would be to sit like this for up to an hour, immediately realizing that they just didn't have the time.

The seat would suffice. He stood and leaned over the body. As requested, a blanket covered the abdomen and legs. He adjusted it a little, assessing the chance that movement of the chest could make it slip off. He decided it would stay in place, then checked the throat for signs of rigor, just in case.

He looked up at the mid-shot camera, the one Never would be watching.

‘I'm good,' Jonah said, sitting down again. The red light on the camera went green. Recording had started. ‘Revival of subject Clayton David Fray Junior, known as David Leith. J. P. Miller duty reviver.'

Jonah took the corpse's hand in his, fully aware of the time pressure. With such a fresh death, achieving revival could be very quick indeed, but surgical cases sometimes proved more tricky. The reasons were unclear; some laid the blame on the anaesthetic, but no-one really knew.

He closed his eyes. This was the first stage of revival, the part known as the
reversal
: finding the subject, somehow, in a way all revivers intuitively understood but which seemed impossible to quantify, a process that had not even begun to be understood in spite of all the research. He reached out, holding the subject, becoming submerged in the
death
that surrounded him and allowing the cold lifelessness to invade every part of his being. Then he waited for it to dissipate, the subject's injuries gradually reversing in his mind. The worse the state of the body, the longer the process took.