Minions (35 page)

“It’s sad about Ikel,” Glen began.  “But life goes on.”

“You don’t sound too touched,” Devlin said provocatively
as he grabbed a bottled beer from the kitchen.  He joined Glen in the lounge
but resisted Glen’s suggestion to take a seat with him.  “I thought you’d be
more concerned, if only for the extra effort that you’ll need to invest in
recruitment.”

“Don’t be like that, Devlin.  He was a nice kid, and I’ll
miss him, as will you.  The problem is that you and I are in the minority. 
You’re fortunate enough to be able to judge him, and remember him, with just a
snapshot of his life to judge him by.”

“So?”

“You seem to have become adept in the use and abuse of my
Research Interface, so why not answer that question yourself?”

                                                                                                                                                        
Chapter - 77.
               
 

Detective Reymond returned to the station.  He was no
stranger to being there ‘after hours’, but the middle of the night was always a
particularly lonely time to be at his desk.  To do so regularly reminded him
that he had nothing or no-one to go home to, and no amount of positive
thinking, religion or counselling could convince him otherwise, and God knows
he’d tried.  In that sense, his job was both a blessing and curse.  It gave him
a purpose to live, if not a reason, but it required him to avail himself
whenever, and this meant the sociable daylight hours and also the lonely times
when he would have almost the entire station to himself, alone with this
thoughts. 

Typically his thoughts were primarily of his daughter and
grand-daughter, but tonight Reymond’s thoughts were to recall two chapters of
Whitely’s words that echoed in his head.  He remembered the circumstances of
their parting years ago, when the wound of their common loss was still raw. 
Whitely had lost his child, his wife, and most recently his job, and he was
living with Reymond.  It was an uneasy co-habitation, but they managed only
because Reymond himself found it easier to devote himself to work than offer
emotional support to the man who was effectively, if not legally, his
son-in-law.

That Tania was able to keep her license was the final
straw for both men.  Whitely swore revenge and it took all of the Detective’s
professional and personal experience to talk the man down into some degree of
rational thought.  Reymond felt the same desire for revenge of course, but at
the time he knew that little would be gained in retribution.  He calmed Whitely
by convincing him of the inevitability that if he did do anything himself, he
would be the one going to jail.  At the time, Reymond added weight to his
argument by suggesting that Whitely was the only family he had left.  His mood
softened by a mixture of acceptance and medication, Whitely calmly agreed with the
line of placation. 

In Reymond’s memory, he sat holding Whitely for hours,
though in reality it was surely nowhere near that long.  He still remembered
the manner with which Whitely stood, shrugging off his embrace.  Raw with
tears, Whitely made an announcement, calmly and rationally.  “I want her dead,
but the trouble with death is that it doesn’t cause her enough pain.  I’d very
much prefer for her to die in pain, and with nothing.”

With those words, Whitely packed only a few of his
belongings and left.  Reymond remembered those words and the way that they’d
been said with perfect clarity.  He’d thought about them often since then,
particularly when he thought about his daughter and whenever he conjured up
some pseudo official excuse to keep tabs on either Tania Wilson or Whitely
himself. 

In the days immediately following when those words were
first said, Reymond feared that Whitely would do something he’d live to
regret.  However, given the conviction with which Whitely had spoken, Reymond
figured that it was very possible that Whitely wouldn’t live through turning
his prophetic comment into reality.  He reasoned that there was amazingly
little he could do about it, if Whitely was to take things into his own hands. 
The reality was that Reymond wouldn’t have really wanted to interfere.

Days turned to weeks, then months, and then years. 
Whitely had kept himself out of major trouble, and Reymond had assumed that
he’d moved on since those words.  Certainly on the infrequent occasions that
he’d visited Whitely, the topic of Tania never came up, though it was obvious
that Whitely’s loss was just as raw as ever.

Until tonight. 

Tonight, privately, Whitely shared more of himself than he
had in many years.  He also made no attempt to hide what he thought of Tania’s
brother’s passing, suggesting it was not evidence of some theory of random
misfortune.  What he’d said required consideration, particularly when Whitely
circled tomorrows date on a calendar hanging by his chair.  With tears
streaming from his eyes he said, “I’ve waited for this.”

Now alone at his desk with a hot coffee in his chipped
mug, Reymond was thinking about Whitely and about what he’d said then and now. 

He started his usual checks on both Whitely and Tania. 
Admittedly, he was nowhere near as regular as he used to be, but Whitely’s
result was the same as it ever was.  The guy rarely left his home, never had
any visitors of any merit or notoriety, and short of unsubstantiated domestic
disturbances where he was the victim, he was the usual clean slate.  Tania’s
profile, however, was different. 

Just like Whitely had wished, Tania was now all alone. 
With the unfortunate passing of her support sponsor, she too now had no-one. 
As ever, Reymond struggled between his professional obligation for concern and
his long shelved personal indifference to her.  It might be sad that Tania was
now without a friend in the world, but Reymond wondered if Tania, sober or
otherwise, felt anywhere near the pain that he’d felt over the years.

*          *          * 

Detective Reymond felt it fitting that he would draft his
resignation by hand.  Short and sharp, it captured what he wanted it to say,
particularly when he held grave doubts that anyone would actually read it. 
Handwritten as it was, or in
hardcopy
as the world would now describe
it, his resignation said more than it needed to in some regards, but less than
was obligatory.  He didn’t pander to any expectation that he reminisce over a
career worth of fond memories, professional challenges, camaraderie and how the
Force had evolved with a changing society.  Similarly, he didn’t suggest that
he was indebted to those who had seen fit to allow him to stay in the force
beyond what was traditional, nor did he reduce himself to using it as a
soapbox. 

Instead, he limited himself to a series of thankyou’s, and
a summary of what he believed was the most important role that he’d played in
his time in the Force.  He doubted whether anyone would understand, but he
didn’t really care. 

Mr Alan Reymond left the station with his chipped mug.

                                                                                                                                                        
Chapter - 78.
               
 

Devlin could not differentiate between surprise and relief
to see Lori in the bunker.  He rushed to hold her, but she was more reserved
and held him at arm’s length, as if wary of the gesture as some precursor to a
sexual advance.  “I’m just happy to see you!” he said, but Lori was
unconvinced. 

“You’ve heard about Ikel then?” Devlin asked.

“Yes, I heard.  And it’s sad, but right now I’m a little
focussed,” Lori replied as she typed and focussed on her screen.

Devlin was disappointed in her ambivalence.  “You sound
like Glen.  I thought you would have shown more interest than that,
particularly given your history.”

“Frankly, my history is the last thing I want to think
about at this point.”

Suddenly guilty that he wasn’t sharing some pending
workload, Devlin logged into his machine, but noted that there were no messages
awaiting review.  Only then did he realise that Lori was using the Research
Interface.  “Who are you looking at then?”

“Save me the banter.”  Lori made no attempt to hide her
actions, which made her appear even more brazen.  “If you want to get busy,
turn on the stereo.”

Devlin interpreted Lori’s words as a request rather than a
suggestion, and he obliged accordingly.  As soon as the music started, he
looked to Lori for some sign of approval but she responded with a gesture
indicating that he should turn up the volume.  With the volume set unreasonably
loud, Lori ushered Devlin closer.  “I’m not being rude, but I have bigger fish
to fry than just ….”

Lori stopped reactively when the stereo was suddenly
silenced as Glen opened the bunker door and took a seat. 

“Devlin, when I introduced Lori here, I mentioned that she
was a prostitute.  That she may well be still a prostitute is neither here nor
there.  But I could have said that she was also once a member of the Police
force.  And that she is still in said Police force, would that mean less or
more?”

Devlin assumed that this was a matter between Glen and
Lori, but he was more than happy to listen in. 

“How long have you known?” Lori asked. 

“I’ve always known.  It didn’t worry me then, and it
doesn’t worry me now.”  Glen edged himself closer to Lori’s screen and to see
what she was doing.  “It’s the lying that gets me though.  And the turning up
the volume so as to help keep your little secrets and to corrupt Devlin here is
just …wrong.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“And I have no problem with you or anyone doing their
job.  I just don’t like secrets that don’t include me.”

“So if you know I’m with the Police, where’s the secret?”

“Lori, if you’ve learnt nothing in your extra-curricular
time here at LastGaspStore, I would have hoped that it would be that
perceptions are everything.  Consider this.  If I had a governing body, and I
don’t, but if I did, they would have seen your history and advised me that you
were not the kind of employee that LastGaspStore needed.  Me on the other hand
looked at your history and saw proof positive of honesty.  Men approach you for
sex, transaction is conducted, nice and honest.  You see it’s all a matter of
perceptions.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t perceive the Police as
synonymous with honesty,” Lori suggested. 

“Well yes, but then again I’m the suspicious one, and I’m
all the more suspicious that the Police are still so determined to breach
LastGaspStore for their own purposes.”

“So this is not the first time?” Devlin asked.  “You said
still
,
as if you’d been breached before.”

“Instead of asking that, why don’t you ask Lori why she’s
here?”  Glen directed his attention towards Lori and suggested that Devlin do
the same.  “Lori?”

“Officially, I’m here to get closer to the LastGasp’
security.  We couldn’t breach it from outside, so we had to try from the
inside.”

“But why, Lori?  Tell Devlin what was so wrong with my
privacy, and indirectly the privacy of all of the LastGaspStore members?  And
if you’re reluctant to disclose that, why not just tell him who you were just
researching.  For all you know, you might have a lot in common.”

Glen stood up to leave, but on reaching the door he turned
for one last salvo.  “For the record, this changes nothing between us.  You’re
more than welcome to stay Lori, if you want.  Just don’t interfere.  It’s all I
ask.”  He left the bunker, being as careful as ever to secure the door behind
himself.

Devlin looked to Lori for something, beit advice or a
suggestion of some description, but once the shock of her being outed had
settled, she only returned to her keyboard and continued typing.  “What are you
doing?” he asked, edging closer so as to look over her shoulder.

“I figure that it’s only a matter of time before he locks
me out.”

“Is that all you’re concerned about?  I’ve spent the last
few days terrified that crossing Glen or LastGasp’ would be paramount to a
death sentence.”

“Oh God, no!” Lori exclaimed, though not pausing enough to
interfere with the rate of her typing.  “I’ll just be replaced like the others
before me.  I’m not the first and I more than likely won’t be the last.”

“What’s to work out?  Why LastGasp’ employees have a habit
of dying?”

“People die, Devlin.  My mandate is to understand how it
is that Glen’s managed to keep his system secure.”

“So you’re sure that it is secure?”

“As I said when you first joined, the fact that Glen is
not awash with Law suits is proof enough for me, but professionally speaking,
yes I sincerely believe this to be the case.  However, I’ll be the first to
admit that we are talking purely theoretical here, and so my comments are
technically subjective.  In any case, that I’m here at all represents my highers’
continued interest.”  Lori directed all of her attention to a single key,
repeatedly tapping away, seemingly without regard to the effects.  “I’m out. 
Glen’s locked me out.”  There was disappointment on her face.  “What were you
saying?”

Devlin wanted to explain, his zeal to do so overpowering
the lagging fatigue that he’d otherwise fought hard to suppress all day, but
Glen re-appeared before he’d progressed much past sharing his suspicions
surrounding the list of names.  He was suddenly reluctant to continue.

“Don’t let me stop you, Devlin, please continue.”  Glen
edged forward as if genuinely interested and oblivious to Devlin’s reticence to
explain further.

“Sorry Glen, but you being here makes me feel a little seditious,
particularly given that Lori here is clearly no longer welcome.”

“I’d be terribly disappointed if Lori left, particularly
when doing so would leave me so understaffed.  Lori?”