Minions (4 page)

“OK, so …” the doctor tried to talk.

“I’m not finished.  My blood-work would have ruled out an
attempted overdose, so you don’t have any grounds for any psych intervention,
so don’t waste my time.  I’ve got things to do.”

The doctor thought for a moment.  “Eighty one fellow
revellers were admitted in the forty eight hours following the festival.  Of
those, only nine, including you, are still with us.  And yes, none of them are
demonstrating the same clarity and mental state without paranoia as you.”

“So,
Doogie
, can I go?”  Malcolm couldn’t help
himself.

“There are police outside who want a chat.  I’m fine for
you to go if they give the nod,” the doctor conceded, ignoring the ‘Doogie’
tag.

“Send them in, but you’ll need to stick around.  I won’t
speak to them without an impartial witness, and you two at least have a mandate
to advocate for me.”

“Sorry, but I don’t have time for that,” the Doctor
replied returning his attention to the patient file.  “I’m sure they’ll co-ordinate
a lawyer for you at your request.”

“We’re all busy, Doctor.   A lawyer imply guilt, so I
don’t need one.  I just need a witness to listen to what I have to say.” 

“The Doctor can go, but I’ll stay,” Nurse Mary offered
some middle ground to appease the request.

“If you want your bed back, you’ll both need to stay when
I speak to the Police.”  Malcolm noted that his comment restored the Doctor’s
attention and knew he retained substantial bargaining power.

“I can stay for ten minutes, no more,” the doctor said
with more than a little reluctance.

The nurse allowed a solitary, thickset, older man in a
cheap suit to enter.  “My name is Detective Alan Reymond and I’d like to ask
you a few questions.”

“Can I call you Alan?”  The guy looked older than Malcolm
expected.

The Detective sighed indignantly.  “No, but if you’d like
to be informal, then perhaps if you tell me your name, then you can call me ‘
Detective’
.” 

“Can I first confirm that I have been advised by Nurse
Mary and Doctor
Doogie
here that I’m not currently medicated.”  He
paused, allowing the Detective to exchange confirmatory glances with the Doctor
and the Nurse.  “My name is Malcolm Venn.”  He liked the way the name rolled
off his tongue and it was sad that he’d have to come up with an alternative.

“Where do you live?”

“N.F.I.”

“Do you mean N.F.
A
., ‘no fixed address’?”

“No, I mean N.F.I,
No Fucking Idea
.” 

“Was your ID stolen?”

“No, I just don’t need it.”

“You’ll need some identification before we can confirm
your identity.”

“No. 
You
need some ID.to confirm my identity.  I
know who I am.”

“Alright,” Detective Reymond sighed.  “I
need
to
confirm who you are.”

“Confirmed identity is ordinarily a requirement before
your discharge can be processed,” Doctor Turner added while checking his watch.

“Ordinarily so, yes, but you and I both know that it is
not
mandatory,” Malcolm derided the doctor’s comment. 

“Well, it’s necessary for billing, and …” the Doctor started
before being cut off.

“The care I’ve been afforded is publically funded.  Whether
it was provided under the pretence of ‘care’ or protecting the community at
large, it’s still free.” 

“Thanks Doctor.  I’ll take it from here,” the Detective
nodded to the Doctor before returning his attention to Malcolm.  “I understand
that you’re keen to be discharged, but until I’m satisfied as to your identity,
you aren’t going anywhere.”  He spoke in a calm, age mellowed tone.  “And
there’s the matter of the other party’s blood.  Hospital policy
notwithstanding, I’m primarily interested in the origins of the blood.”

Malcolm was surprised that it had taken the Detective so
long to broach this point.  He settled in to give his account of the blood’s
source.  He told of where he’d been living and of Angie.  He said enough to get
the Detective interested but no more.  Such was his plan.

                                                                                                                                                          
Chapter - 8.
                  
 

Glen escorted Devlin back out to the lounge room with the
comfortable chairs.  “What do you think so far?”

“It’s difficult to say,” replied Devlin.  “I still don’t
know what the hell it is that I’ll be doing.  All I really know is that you’re
clearly a clever guy who’s carved quite a lucrative niche, you’ve got a system
for which security seems a near paranoid concern, and you’ve got a handful of
staff who admire you as a demi-god.”

“Well, so far you’re pretty right, though I’ll have to
speak to the others that I’m only revered as a
demi
-god,” Glen said
dryly, adding, “I’m joking, Devlin.”

“How long have you known about my history?” Devlin asked.

“Your history is not particularly different to a number of
my employees, past and present, but that’s not what’s important.”  Glen juggled
a small white box between his hands.  “What
is
actually important is
whether you choose to stay or leave.” 

“I’m staying,” Devlin announced without hesitation. 

Glen smiled and offered a congratulatory handshake.  “I’d
hoped as much.”  He tossed the little box onto Devlin’s lap, “otherwise that
box of business cards would be a waste.”  He handed Devlin a bulky envelope. 
“Here are your system login details, a security pass for the building, some starter
cash and a phone.”

“My phone got stolen today, so that’s a real bonus.”

Glen raised his eyebrows at the comment and sighed, but
moved on immediately.  “You’ll need to change the password and PIN when you
first use them.  It’s most important that you, and only you, use your login and
know your access details.  Incidentally, the phone number isn’t listed.  The
rest of our numbers are already programmed into the phone.  The rest of the
security arrangements will be explained by the others.”

Only when Glen stopped talking did Devlin peak inside the
envelope.  On seeing a mass of cash, he quickly flitted through the wad of
notes looking to approximate the value, but stopped his count at $2000.  “How
much money is here?”

“There’s ten thousand there.  I’m not paying in advance,
it’s just that if I’d needed to use someone to find you, they’d try and charge me.
 As our meeting earlier saved me their finder’s fee that I would have happily
paid, then you might as well have it.  In any case, I figured that you’d appreciate
a little financial assistance.”

“Thank-you!” Devlin struggled to focus amid his turn of
fortune.

“If I may continue?” Glen looked to calm Devlin’s
fervour.  “I pay cash, so up to you as to what you tell the tax-man.  Mention
my name at the bank up the street and they’ll look after you.  The
establishments next door will look after you too if you tell them where you
work.”

“Brothels aren’t my thing, but thanks anyway.”

“Moral high ground isn’t my thing either.  What else?” said
Glen, moving on immediately.  “You can decide when you work.  Most readers end
up working long hours.  I don’t make them, but of course I don’t mind.  Bear in
mind that I want only that they do it for themselves, not me.”

“I’ll work hard!” Devlin declared. 

Glen was more serious than Devlin expected.  “The money
you are paid is not to buy your trust, nor do I think this money buys your
allegiance.  You do what’s right.  That said, I hope you’re happy here and stay
for a while.”

“I may never leave,” said Devlin, keen to arouse a smile
in Glen, but without success.

“Everyone leaves for a reason.  Sooner or later everyone
tires of just being a reader,” Glen said sincerely.  “Everyone goes when they
are ready, as will you.

“Anyway, join the others and they’ll teach you the rest. 
I have other things to do.”

Glen walked towards the front door, and Devlin watched him
leave the building on the closed circuit televisions.  His euphoric mood was
interrupted by a tone from an unfamiliar phone indicating that a new text
message had arrived.  It took a moment for him to realise that the source was
his new phone.  After fumbling through the phone menu, he read the message.

Casey Lawrence is now dead.

Devlin was initially puzzled before appreciating that the
message had been sent to a phone number, not specifically to him.  Even though
Glen described the number as unlisted, it was not unreasonable that the number
had previously belonged to someone else.  He wrote off the call as misdirected
and headed for the bunker.

                                                                                                                                                          
Chapter - 9.
                  
 

Ikel beamed a welcoming smile as soon as he saw Devlin
enter the bunker.  “We all knew you’d stay!.”  Lori and David were less
animated in their welcome, but still they looked happy that there was a
newcomer to the fold. 

“Was the admiring staff exhibition purely for my benefit?”
Devlin asked.  “I have to know.”

“I’ll speak for myself,” Ikel started.  “I like him.  He’s
a good guy.  You’ll like him.”

“We’ll have to see,” Devlin said, inviting discord. 

“He’s forthright typically because he
is
right.  He
speaks his mind and will always tell the truth,” David spoke defensively.  “What
you do thereafter is your problem, not his.  It’s the same with this work.”

“Point taken,” Devlin shrugged.  “Perhaps I’ll understand
your devotion when I understand what I really have to do.”

“Hey, I’m unskilled, doing a worthwhile job that I enjoy
and to cap it all off, the money is good!” Ikel contributed with a smile to
lighten the mood.  “Had it not been for him, I’d be in a gutter or ditch
somewhere by now for sure.”

“Think what you like Devlin.  It’s your life,” David said
abruptly, voiding Ikel’s attempt.

“Care for a snack?” Lori piped in.  She stood from her
seat and coaxed Devlin and Ikel to the door. 

Clear of the work room, Lori headed for the kitchen.  “When
David gets like this, we normally give him a little space.  David’s right of
course, and you’ll learn this for yourself in good time, but stress gets at him
just as it will get to you.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”  Devlin was momentarily
distracted by a tone from his phone.  It took some time of fumbling with the
new device before he understood that another text message had been received. 
He resisted the urge to view the message while Lori was talking.

“You don’t
need
to agree with David to work here, but
you’ll want to stop being so provocative, at least until you get to know the
ropes.  Perhaps then you might see things differently.”  Lori spoke confidently,
more to defend David than to put Devlin at ease. 

Ikel led the way to the armchairs.  “You’ll like it here,”
he said warmly.

“Are you a reader too?” Devlin asked. “You don’t strike me
as having the same background as Lori.”

“I’m a reader, just like you.  And no, I ‘spose I prove
you don’t need heaps of school to work here because it’s not just reading.” 
Ikel drank from a can he’d grabbed in the kitchen.  “Ready to know what we do? 
”

“Now’s as good a time as any,” said Lori.  “The system essentially
looks after itself, so we really just do the bits that Glen doesn’t want
automated.  The truth is that our reading doesn’t just identify the martyrs,
and then it depends on how we flag and the associated ‘protocol’.”

“Protocols?”

“Relax,” said Ikel.  “It’s just how Glen describes what
happens with each flag.  He won’t say more.”

“OK, so what happens with the messages?” asked Devlin

“That depends on what you read, but it’s not that simple,”
answered Lori.  “You have to remember that what you can glean from the messages
couldn’t be used directly, if only to protect the source.”

“So people are stupid enough to confess to a life of guilt
and then we tell the police?”

“Tell me, Devlin, how did you first hear of LastGasp’?”
asked Lori.

“I saw it mentioned in a newspaper years ago.”

“That hardly narrows it down.  We rarely make the news now
because it’s the same old story.  The case that you refer to was probably the
result of our delivery of a message implicating someone in some illegality. 
This would have resulted in a volley of questions about the legal side. 
‘Should the government or police have the right to access private data?’ and
‘Does LastGasp’ have a legal or moral obligation to pass on information’.”

“Does LastGasp’?  Do we?” Devlin asked still unclear as to
where the revelations were heading.

“No, the government can’t
legally
get access to our
data, and we don’t need to pass on information,” Lori sub-consciously
emphasised the legal word.  “Glen has made being a step ahead of the law a way
of life.  Privacy laws, for starters, couldn’t and still can’t touch us.  Such
is the benefit of a paper legal system in a digital age.”

Devlin paused to consider what he’d been told.  “I don’t
believe that people would implicate themselves and I don’t believe that the
police couldn’t get at the data.” 

“People really are
all
too willing to implicate
themselves.  Guilt is a terrible thing and it makes people do things that you
wouldn’t predict.  And trust me, LastGasp’ is secure.  I know this because if
people were to get into LastGasp’, LastGasp’ simply wouldn’t exist.  It would
be drowned under an endless stream of lawsuits from breaches of privacy and resultant
defamation and libel issues.  Then would come the second tier of lawsuits after
LastGasp’ hit the front pages, lawsuits for breaches of privacy just because
privacy couldn’t be assured.”