Then one day a law student came to visit. His name was Samuel Goldmann. He was two years older than me and we had little in common, but his father was Daniel’s lawyer. He had been instructed by his father to make contact. Samuel was, after all, to enter the family firm when he left university – and we were potential clients. I don’t think Samuel was too keen to visit. He didn’t come until well into the third term of my first year. When he eventually made contact, he seemed at first fascinated and then interested in us. Because of Samuel I actually made some friends – even met some girls – and started to feel a little more like a real student.
Samuel always remained a little distant from us, though. He was distant from most people, actually. He had fallen very much in love with a woman who treated him like absolute shit. If he was fascinated by us, I was more than fascinated by the sort of cruelties she put him through. It made no difference, though; he was obsessed with her until, at last, she left him for some obnoxious New Fabian in the north. We didn’t know he was New Fabian at the time, of course. We found that out later. Samuel was devastated. I don’t believe, despite everything, he ever stopped loving her.
Davey and Sam had my life pretty well mapped out for me. I was studying at Oxford because that is where Davey was now employed and working on his PhD. He had a three-bedroom, well-equipped house on the campus, as befitted a married man – and the university’s rising star. Oxford looked after Davey in a way Cambridge had signally failed to do, but then he was there in a different capacity. He was a member of the inner circle of the elite group of mathematicians and physicists known as Pandora. Every one of its members was treated with respect.
I suppose, as Davey’s research assistant, I was also a member of this illustrious group, even if in a very minor capacity. With my poor sight, being a vet was out of the question; it was Ian who had suggested philosophy as an alternative choice. The idea was treated with a certain amount of caution by my family, especially Robert. I had a reputation for being lazy, and nobody really trusted me with something so impractical. What could I do with a philosophy degree? I was no Sam.
Then Davey made his announcement. He said, ‘It doesn’t really matter what Alexander studies because he’s going to work for me. I need a research assistant and he’s the only one who can do it.’
Robert was not the only one to explode at the suggestion. Ian immediately led a campaign to change both my mind and Davey’s. Neither of us listened to him because to us it made perfect sense. I was the only one who could do it. My maths was pretty average, it’s true, but I could sign as fast as a group of people could talk. I could read Braille and, more important, I was Davey’s best friend, brother and carer. No one understood him better than me and that included his father and wife.
My father seemed to think I was selling myself short, but that was not how I saw it. I was going to be working for my brother who was a genius. How could that not be anything but perfect?
Chapter 29
Martin Harrison, one time Commander-in-Chief of New Fabian, stepped out of his car and looked up at the stately home in front of him. Galmpton Court was impressive by anybody’s standards; for someone recently released from a small prison cell, as he had been, it was striking and breathtaking.
He walked up the grand steps before the house, taking his time. He was in his late thirties, short, slight and going bald. His face was narrow and long with high cheekbones, full lips, a thin moustache and a sharp chin. It was unremarkable except for his eyes, which looked like two sharp brown bullets.
He was greeted at the front door by the owner of the house, Henry Fuller. Harrison disliked Fuller intensely, but he was sensible enough to realise that he needed this man as he needed so many like him. To gain power – and then to keep it – you sometimes had to smile when you wanted to reach for the knife.
Harrison smiled now and the two men shook hands. He followed his host into a wide hallway, in which there was a large, ornate table and ceremonial chairs lined along the right hand wall. On the left, a sweeping, curving staircase rose up. There were more rooms beyond the staircase and further to the left of it. The house was lavish and spacious – as befitted one of the richest and most influential men in Europe.
A woman stood at the table arranging flowers in a tall Chinese vase. She was dressed in uniform and wearing white gloves. She didn’t look up as Harrison walked in and he didn’t even notice her.
Fuller led him into the room on the left.
Another woman sat on the floor with a child. She was playing with him; he was demanding her attention, shouting excitedly. She remained calm and patient while he became louder.
‘Jenny,’ said Fuller. ‘Take Mathew upstairs.’
She gave a slight bow to Fuller and took the boy’s hand in hers. The boy glanced up at his father. He had his father’s cold blue eyes but that was all. Where his father was thickset and bullish – hardly a handsome man – the boy was feminine, delicate and pretty. ‘Can I stay, father?’ he asked. His tone towards his father was very different to the one he adopted towards his nurse. His voice was respectful and restrained.
‘No, go and play with Suzanne,’ he said.
The boy, who must have been around five years old, nodded and left with the nurse to join his younger sister.
Harrison watched the child go and felt a pang of jealousy. Why should this boorish, stupid man have so much? A beautiful wife and two children, one of whom was a precious son, and he had no one? ‘You’re a lucky man,’ he said impulsively.
Fuller grunted. ‘The boy’s too girly; need to toughen him up!’
‘Shouldn’t be a problem now,’ said Harrison smoothly.
Fuller smiled. ‘He’ll be one of the first,’ he said with evident satisfaction.
‘Hobbs Academy works to Madison principles; it will create the first generation. No more struggling, especially now,’ commented Harrison.
Fuller poured two shots of whisky and handed one to Harrison. ‘Is it true, then?’ he asked. ‘About Matrix, I mean?’
Harrison held up his glass to Fuller. ‘We have something to celebrate.’
‘Twenty-three of our men and women are dead, one of them my wife’s father. I don’t call that something to celebrate!’
Harrison shrugged his shoulders. ‘We are all dispensable, Henry – even you – but the cause is now much stronger than it ever was.’
‘You escaped, though.’
‘The man who tried to kill me is himself now dead. The important point is Matrix is dead, Azrael is dead, the General is going to go down for a very long time and I will ensure that Cadros does as well. The Brotherhood has been decapitated. Those men who died will be smiling now, I can assure you. We can turn the clock back.’
‘There isn’t a child is there? Matrix never had any children?’ asked Fuller, suddenly anxious.
Harrison laughed. ‘Matrix was a pretty boy, a sodomite. Of course there are no children!’
‘And what about Alastor, Cyclops and Phaedo?’
‘We don’t even know who they are. If they show themselves now we get them; if not - they’re not a problem.’ Fuller scowled. Harrison continued. ‘Matrix has countered every move we’ve made. He has won too many battles, but none of that matters now. In the end, it is the final battle that counts, and New Fabian has won that.’
‘New Fabian doesn’t exist anymore.’
Harrison shrugged his shoulders again. He found it tiresome to have to explain the obvious to men like Fuller, but he needed him: he needed his money, his influence, his political muscle. ‘New Fabian is dead,’ he said with a smile. ‘Matrix has killed it.’ He held up his glass again. ‘Long live Madison!’
Fuller held up his glass. ‘The Dream Catcher is dead. I’ll drink to that!’ he said. ‘Now we can really grind the substrata down!’
There was a noise in the hallway. ‘What was that?’ said Fuller. But Harrison wasn’t even listening. He was thinking of the future: a future without Matrix, without the Dream Catcher, with
out Bràithreachas. As he left the house, he walked through the hallway. He didn’t realise that the woman he hadn’t noticed had gone.
***********************
When Steve found himself in trouble again, I was not around. That autumn of my second year at Oxford saw him, once again, returned to prison.
I told Adam that I didn’t want to hear what Simeon had to say and could he please keep him quiet – and if he couldn’t keep him quiet keep him away. Adam said nothing. A couple of months later, he announced that he and Simeon had parted.
We watched and waited nervously. We were all fond of Simeon and knew how much he cared for Adam.
Simeon was heartbroken but remained a loyal friend to Adam and his personal doctor. We had no idea if he knew why Adam had finished the relationship; we weren’t even sure that we knew.
The following spring Steve was back. Adam now had to convince him that he not only didn’t hate him, but actually loved him. We were all forbidden to intervene. It was an anxious time. I was convinced Steve would disappear before Adam had a chance to tell him. Steve had learned to avoid him, he didn’t want any more rejection in his life, but Adam tracked him down and made him listen – and then it really was wonderful.
So it was, that Steve moved in with us and became part of the family. We were all delighted.
Chapter 30
The world found out about the death of Matrix just three days after the Night of Blood. It was later to be called the Final Reckoning: the night when old scores were settled; the night the Brotherhood murdered twenty-three NF men and women; the night the General lost his brother and Sweeney; a Night of Blood – and all because I hesitated.
Many wept and many celebrated the night that Matrix died. A god had died. A demon had died. A terrorist had died. The Dream Catcher had died. Matrix died on the Night of Blood, the time of the Final Reckoning.
Matrix died, but Alexander lived – of course he lived. In the end, the General made his sacrifice for Alexander, not Matrix. He didn’t know it. He was told I was dead and he believed them, why wouldn’t he? But I lived. I wanted to die. I begged them to let me die but they kept me alive, a mind trapped in a dead body, buried alive. God help me I lived. We all paid the price the night Matrix hesitated.
***********************
It is very important for a young man to be successful with girls. I was pretty good at most things, very good at some things, but the one thing I really wanted to be good at failed me. But then I met Christine Macraith at Oxford. Her father was a professor at St Andrews. She was an architect with a lilting Scottish voice and I loved her. When she agreed to marry me it was such a relief. I didn’t have to go through that ritual humiliation and rejection any more. Davey liked her too and that was important. Adam and Steve were less sure, but I was convinced they would come round.
However, I never mentioned my poor sight to her. All my family advised me to tell her. But somehow, as the months slipped by, the occasion never presented itself, and it became an increasingly awkward thing to do. How do you tell the woman you love that, actually, most of the time you don’t have a clue what she looks like?
It became increasingly difficult: she would often show me her drawings and ask me for an opinion; I was always vague. My lack of opinion infuriated her, just as my lack of comment on her appearance hurt her.
I never did tell her. Someone else did and she was incensed. I think she genuinely thought I was deliberately trying to make a fool of her. She ended the engagement and disappeared back to Glasgow, her hometown.
I went back to Devon feeling, very lost and rejected, and promptly fell in love again. I became obsessed with a young woman at the local chess club that Adam went to.
Her name was Cathie Thomas. She was younger than me. She had blue eyes and red hair and her father ran the chess club. She also had a thug of a boyfriend called Gandalf. One day she caught me and Steve giggling outside the door of the chess club. One of us had made a silly joke. She came out, recognised Steve from school, saw that a class was being held next door for children and came to all the wrong conclusions. She was fuming and rather magnificent.
I fell in love with her at that moment – even though she was abusing me and Steve.
A few weeks later I was having a bad day. I could barely see anything. Steve took me to a coffee bar in town to cheer me up. He led me in, we sat down and we ordered. Before our drinks had arrived, though, the manager came across to our table and asked us to leave. No fuss, no loud voices, just leave. We left. Outside, Steve told me that he had seen Cathie in there when we arrived; she had gone to the manager and spoken to him. She had asked him to have us removed. It was pretty humiliating.
Not long after that, we were at a nightclub and I saw Cathie with some of her friends. I’d had a few drinks; my eyesight was pretty good despite the dim lights. The timing seemed perfect, so I plucked up my courage and went across the dance floor to ask her for a dance. Steve tried to persuade me out of it, but I really wanted her. I approached the group of giggling girls. They went silent as I stood, swaying slightly, in front of Cathie. I asked her for a dance.
I could see the scathing look she gave me. ‘I wouldn’t dance with you if you were the last man on earth,’ she announced. It may have been unoriginal yet it still hurt.
‘Why?’ I asked weakly.
All her friends around her began to giggle again; it was obvious to them, obviously.
‘You’re a fag, you’re a perv,’ she glanced across at Steve, ‘and you’re ugly – and I don’t like your freaky eyes,’ she added for good measure.
‘Fine!’ I said, and walked back to Steve.
It took a while to forget her. She came to me in my dreams and reminded me of my shortcomings. I understood what Samuel had gone through with his girlfriend. I would have done anything for Cathie, suffered any humiliation; I hungered for her. Who knows what sort of fool I would have made of myself if her parents had not chosen at that point to emigrate to New Zealand and take their fiery daughter with them?
And then Christine came back and forgave me. We were officially engaged to be married, and Cathie Thomas slipped into the background of my mind – for the time being, at least.
It was, as I say, a great relief.
Chapter 31
‘Chief Constable Forrest will speak to you now, sir,’ said the polite voice.
‘Thank you.’
‘Yes!’
‘Hello, John, it’s Robert.’
‘Who?’
‘For Christ’s sake, John, it’s Robert Patrick, who do you think?’
‘Hello, Robert, how’s Davey – well, I hope.’ The voice was stiff.
‘What do you think? Listen, they won’t let us see him. Can you do something?’
‘If you’re referring to your brother – I can do nothing.’
‘Of course, I’m referring to ...’
‘I can do nothing.’
‘John, you canna still be angry with him.’
‘This has nothing to do with that. Has it ever occurred to you that he deserved what happened to him?’
‘No, and you don’t believe that either.’
‘Matrix is dead. I suggest you accept that and now ...’
‘John, please, I have no one else to turn to; you can at least influence the decision on turning the machines off.’
‘Not my department. Goodbye, Robert, love to Dianne.’
The phone went silent and made a slight burping noise as it did so. Robert flinched, the call had been tagged.
He slumped in the chair and thought of me. He had always considered me more as a son than a brother, and now I lay just where I didn’t want to be, amongst people I feared, amongst people who would probably not be kind to me.
He remembered those last moments, before they had taken me to Sam’s house. The drug that Simeon had given me had briefly freed up my hands, enough for me to sign just one message again and again. It was enough to tell Robert exactly what was in my heart: Let me die! Let
me go! Please! Please!
Robert had made the decision to let me die because he knew that, if he didn’t, he would be consigning me to a living hell, and he was grieving because that was exactly where I was now with no one to protect and watch over me. I was alone in my hell in every way possible.
At that moment someone entered the room and a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. ‘Robert!’ it was a soft Highland voice.
‘Mmm?’
‘I’ve just spoken to DCI Morgan.’
Robert spun round. ‘Will they let us see him?’
‘No.’
He sighed and turned back to the window.
‘Robert, it’s worse than that.’
‘How can it be any worse?’
‘He won’t make the promise.’
‘What promise?’
‘To switch the machines off in three months. He said he would think about it.’
Robert said nothing. He bowed his head and simply let the tears fall.
***********************
When my father turned seventy, he secretly made plans to have me adopted – nothing sinister; he simply understood the way of the world better than most. He’d already worked out that, under Section Twenty-six, if he were to die; I could be taken away from the family. He was protecting me. At that time, I had not yet met Chris, marriage had not been spoken of and I was vulnerable.
Doing this in secret was bad enough; choosing my brother, Robert, as my adopted father was, for me, unacceptable. When I found out I ranted at everyone who would listen.
I shouted at Robert and, for the first and only time in my life, shouted at my father. I stormed out of the house and marched to the top of our garden, to a bench placed at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the bay. I could already feel my sight slipping away from me as I stared angrily into the distance.
And why was I angry?
I was angry because my father had dared to suggest that he might die.
The Dream Catcher Diaries Page 12
