They continued sifting through Christopher’s memories for the rest of the day. More false memories were lost. A birthday party for a boy called Tom back at the orphanage. A day trip to a beach somewhere filled with sunshine and wheeling gulls and the feeling of warm sand between his toes.
‘What does warm sand between your toes feel like?’ Blake asked after removing the patch.
‘I don’t know,’ said Christopher, the memory of it completely gone.
Blake was working with his usual serene focus. The only sound was the scritch-scratching of tweezers and needles and the soft click of patches. Christopher had a thought.
‘Have you ever been to the beach?’
There was the slightest pause as Blake froze for just that moment. It was enough to make Christopher smile inwardly, because he knew he’d sensed something. A weakness perhaps?
Blake cleared his throat and recommenced working.
‘Once,’ he said.
‘With your parents?’ said Christopher.
There was a long scritch scratch scritch scratch. Christopher heard Blake take a breath in.
‘With my father. My mother died when I was very young.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Christopher.
Another brief pause. Blake started again.
‘Why did he do what he did?’ asked Christopher.
He tensed as he sensed movement from Blake. There was a clatter as his instruments were thrown on to the workbench. The engineer came around to face Christopher, wiping his hands on a towel.
‘Do you have any idea how many men died in the Great War?’
Christopher shook his head. He’d heard Absalom talk about the war, but only to mention his heroic exploits, despite the fact that Estelle had told them that she knew for a fact that Absalom had spent the war cleaning toilets in a hospital somewhere in London.
‘Millions died. Millions. And so many more could have been saved if we’d been able to end the war earlier, and we could have if we’d had war machines.’
Blake leant on Christopher’s chair.
‘Mechanicals created for the purpose of war would not have only saved lives but would have made this nation great again. But the government stopped their manufacture because of one simple accident.’
‘People died that day,’ said Christopher.
‘And many more could have been saved if we’d continued on that path,’ said Blake, his face tightening with rage. ‘My father did what he did for Britain.’
‘And what are you doing?’ Christopher asked. Blake straightened up and stared down at Christopher. Christopher held his gaze. ‘You must have loved him very much to be able to ignore the mistakes he made.’
Blake said nothing. Instead, he turned on his heel and threw the laboratory door open.
‘Mr Dunlop!’ Dunlop stepped into the lab. ‘We’re finished for today,’ Blake said, walking back in Christopher’s direction while avoiding his gaze.
Dunlop took Christopher out of the chair, and shoved the marionette at his chest. He dragged him out by the elbow, but Christopher turned to look at Blake.
Blake’s swagger was gone. He was leaning on a table with his head bowed, looking away, perhaps thinking about another time and another place.
Christopher knew what that felt like.
Cormier was back to being his usual, grumbling self. He’d initially been ecstatic after they’d obtained the Diviner, and eager to get back on the road. So much so that Jack noticed his impatience as he’d patched William up inside the museum. Jack could see the delicate flash of irritation in the engineer’s eyes, and the sudden downturn of his smile whenever William or any of the others spoke.
The story they concocted for William was that he had been overpowered by masked thieves during the night. Jack didn’t think Hibbert would believe a word of it, but having seen the way he and Cormier had interacted, he knew the chief commissioner would be the kind of man who would lay the blame squarely at Cormier’s feet. William would be of no consequence to Hibbert. He thought about this as they locked William in a cupboard. William thanked Cormier again and said goodbye to the others, even as Cormier grunted a half-hearted farewell and shut the door on him.
Back in the van, Cormier ordered Jack to drive and barked directions as they rattled through the city streets, still busy despite the late hour. The engineer spent the whole journey glaring out through the windscreen, grinding his jaw and occasionally muttering to himself. After an hour or so they were about ten miles outside the city, and Cormier told Jack to turn down a side road. A little way down the road they came across an old disused shed. Jack parked the van by the side. Cormier jumped out and opened the shed’s large door. The building had a rusty corrugated iron roof, one corner of which looked as if a giant had tried to peel it off, like someone trying to rip the lid from a tin of beans. The stone walls were stained and weathered, and gnarled, rubbery grass grew around its edges.
Cormier pulled on a cord and a bulb wanly lit up the inside of the shed as the others filed in. The interior was a jumble of old wires and piping, with rusted bits of engines and farm machinery strewn around the floor. It was dank and smelly, and Jack couldn’t help but think of Absalom’s shed, which didn’t help his mood and only amplified the awful sinking sensation he’d been feeling since they’d left the Agency. He thought he’d be pleased that they’d obtained something that would help them find Christopher, but there was a muted feeling among the group since the creature had been killed and Cormier had gotten his hands on the Diviner. It was as if a strange simmering rage had now infected all of them. Jack had the feeling that the journey was somehow spinning out of their control.
Cormier moved briskly through the shed as if he’d forgotten they were there. His shoulder brushed off a metal mannequin that was strung from the ceiling with chains. It swayed and rattled gently.
Jack stood beneath it and looked up at it. It looked like a puppet that had been forgotten by its puppet master. It had no features on its domed head, and one arm was raised and stretched behind its neck. The other hung limply by its side. Jack could see the soles of its feet were lined by the brown of corrosion, and a honeycomb of holes peppered one rusty side where the rain had run down after seeping through the roof. It made gentle squawking, moaning sounds as it swung in the air.
Cormier glanced towards the door for a moment and caught sight of Jack looking at the hanging body. ‘An Empty,’ he grunted. ‘This is an old workshop of mine. Haven’t used it in years.’ He walked towards a bench that lay at the back of the shed.
Rob came and stood by Jack’s side and looked up at the body. He was uncharacteristically quiet. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the museum and as he looked the Empty up and down, Jack could see a kind of helpless sadness in his eyes. Rob turned to look at Jack, and for some reason he looked older and wiser, as if the melancholy that had taken hold of him had added to his years. He looked as if he was waiting for some kind of an answer from Jack. Jack felt as if he should say something to him, but for the life of him he didn’t know what.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Jack, turning so that he was facing Cormier. He’d deliberately raised his voice in an effort to give the impression that he was in control. But Jack didn’t feel in control at all.
Cormier didn’t reply. He was too busy, hunched over the bench with his back to them as he inspected the Diviner. Jack exchanged a glance with Estelle, who was standing with her arms by her sides, her thumbs working against her index fingers, her jaw clenching.
‘What does it do?’ she asked Cormier, her voice tinged with resentment.
‘Never you mind,’ came the response from Cormier, who didn’t even bother to look at her.
Estelle started towards him, but Jack placed a restraining hand on her arm and shook his head. He cleared his throat:
‘We were just wondering, Mr Cormier—’
‘Blast this thing! Blast it for being the piece of rubbish it is. Only a prototype. How am I supposed t
o work with something this shoddy? This is unacceptable.’
Cormier turned the Diviner over and over in his hands, as if looking for something on its surface. In the light from the bulb the metal surface of the Diviner looked flimsy and delicate. Round Rob frowned and moved towards Cormier, his hands down by his sides, his steps slow and steady. George nuzzled into his neck.
‘You think they could put together something even remotely workable? But no, oh no,’ Cormier muttered as he held the Diviner aloft and shook it, before placing it roughly on the bench and leaning on his fists. He sighed and lowered his head. Nobody said anything. Round Rob stood behind him, that frown still on his face.
‘Mr Cormier?’ he said.
Cormier turned round at the sound of his voice. His face softened slightly when he saw Rob, but Rob was still frowning. ‘Why did you have to kill it, Mr Cormier?’
Everything stopped. For Jack, it felt as if the room was noiseless now except for the tiniest hint of something like hissing sand filling an hourglass. Cormier straightened up and looked surprised.
‘What?’ he said.
Rob’s voice was firmer now. ‘Why did you have to kill it, that thing back in the basement? Why did it have to die?’
Round Rob shook his head in disbelief as he pondered his own question. Cormier looked at Jack and the others, and then at the door, as if looking for a means of escape.
Rob kept his eyes fixed on him. ‘You wanted it dead, and you made it dead, and it’s gone now, and you did that. Why?’
The hissing sound in Jack’s ears had stopped. There was no sound now, not even the clanking of chains from the Empty suspended from the ceiling. Cormier’s face, which had gone deathly pale at Rob’s question, was now beginning to turn pink again. His mouth opened, but he said nothing. He finally pursed his lips, turned back to the bench and bowed his head as he pretended to examine the Diviner. Round Rob kept looking at him.
‘I don’t think he’s going to tell you,’ Jack whispered, leaning into Rob.
Rob was still looking sternly at Cormier’s back.
‘Once I get it working it will help me track your friend and find him,’ said Cormier suddenly, spinning round and waving the Diviner in his right hand. They were all looking at him now, even Gripper. Cormier’s cranky demeanour seemed to have been eroded by a creeping sense of shame. Jack could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and maybe even the tiniest glimmer of guilt.
‘It will take some time,’ Cormier said quietly.
‘But we’ll find him?’ said Estelle.
Cormier nodded and started to turn back to the bench. He seemed to consider something for a moment and he looked back at Rob.
‘We do what we have to,’ he said quietly.
Rob frowned and considered this. He looked at the ground and then nodded and stepped back towards the others.
Cormier turned away, but not before Jack caught the briefest glimpse of something on his face. It looked like pure agony.
For some reason the mood seemed to lighten a little after that. Round Rob in particular didn’t seem to be as perturbed, and he reverted back to his usual jolly self. Cormier was still gruff, but he was slightly more amiable as he worked through the night, especially with Rob. That said, Jack couldn’t help feeling there was still a slight edge to the engineer’s exchanges, as if he’d been found out in some way, and felt angry about it.
Jack sat outside the shed, where Estelle joined him.
Estelle toed a tuft of grass with her boot. ‘He’s hiding something,’ she said. ‘You feel it too, don’t you?’
Jack nodded. He’d been suspicious of Cormier from the start.
‘This Diviner thing,’ Estelle shook her head and chuckled bitterly to herself. ‘He seems to have an awful lot invested in it.’
Jack said nothing. Estelle continued kicking at the tuft of grass. ‘Have you thought about where we’re going to go after we find Christopher?’
Jack felt slightly off balance for a moment. The truth was he hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘I don’t know. We’ll need somewhere to live, I suppose.’
Estelle pursed her lips and nodded as she contemplated the toe of her boot.
‘You don’t think . . .’ Jack began.
Estelle looked back towards the shed, where Cormier worked in the barely lit gloom. ‘That he’ll let us stay with him?’ She shook her head. ‘And what if he wants to keep Christopher? What then?’
‘Well, who says Christopher will want to stay with him?’ said Jack, a little too defensively.
‘No one knows what’s going to happen. I’m not sure we’ll even find him,’ said Estelle dolefully.
Jack shot her a look. ‘Don’t say that, Estelle. Don’t ever say that. We will find him. I’m sure of it.’
Estelle expelled air through her lips and sighed. ‘That’s if that fancy Diviner thing of his works in the first place. Even if it does, I doubt whoever sent Reeves will just hand Christopher over.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going to see if I can get some sleep. Wake me up if anything happens. Although I doubt it.’
Estelle settled down in the cab of the truck with her coat on, and a blanket, which she’d found underneath the passenger seat, wrapped around her tightly.
It was just before dawn when she felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder. He roused her gently, and Estelle heard her name whispered – coming to her as if wafting down through the soft black layers of a dream. She turned her head and rubbed her eyes and saw Jack standing with the cab door open, a strange light pulsing behind him. She stepped out of the truck and wondered where the brightness was coming from because the sun hadn’t yet risen, and the light illuminating the gloom was bright and blue – a shimmering sapphire glow that bathed everything. She turned to her left, to where Round Rob and Gripper were both gaping at the shed.
Cormier was standing just outside the door. He was holding his hands in front of him, like someone cradling a skein of wool between their fingers. The Diviner was hovering in the air between his hands. It was an even brighter silver than Estelle had previously thought, and tiny blue threads of lightning were arcing across its surface and making the air around them shimmer and waver in a gentle corona of light. The Diviner was revolving with a smooth, almost hypnotic movement. Glyphs were moving across its surface, appearing and reappearing like ripples on water. They merged and coalesced, divided and flowed liquidly away from each other, then rejoined again, smooth and serene.
Round Rob’s face was the very picture of wonder and delight as he gazed at the Diviner. He turned to Estelle and smiled. ‘Estelle, look.’
Estelle couldn’t help but look. Cormier weaved his hands in the air and the Diviner rotated gently, throwing off genteel sparks of light while moving in a still liquid silence of its own making.
‘What’s it doing?’ she asked, almost afraid to speak too loudly for fear of breaking the spell.
‘Seeking,’ said Cormier.
He turned towards her as the Diviner still hovered in the air.
And then Estelle saw the most surprising thing of all.
She saw Philip Cormier smile.
Dunlop pushed Christopher into the laboratory. As soon as he saw the smile on Blake’s face Christopher felt a cold chill, and he knew he was in trouble.
Blake beckoned him forward. He was beaming.
‘Good morning, and how are you today, young Christopher?’
Christopher looked at the chair. There was a long metal arm protruding from the back, at the end of which was a dome-shaped object made from a latticework of metal strips.
‘Do you like it?’ said Blake, framing the device with his hands the way a magician might present a magic contraption to an audience. ‘I haven’t thought of a name for it yet, but that will come with time.’ There was a vicious glint in his eyes. ‘Would you like to try it?’
Christopher turned, but Dunlop grabbed him by the elbows and forced him towards the chair. Christopher had no choice but to sit in it, the marionette still clutched to his chest. He
could feel himself gripped by the beginnings of a wild panic.
Blake looked down at him. ‘You see, the thing to remember, Christopher, is that memories are layered. It’s like sifting through the sand at the bottom of a sea bed. Sometimes the sands shift this way and that with the tide, and it’s difficult to sift the false memories from the real ones. But down deep, down at the bottom, that’s where the genuine memories are.’ Blake chuckled and shook his head. ‘But then you’d know that, wouldn’t you, since you’ve started remembering all of your own accord?’
Christopher looked straight ahead, trying to keep his face expressionless.
Blake leant down towards him. ‘The memories leave traces, you see.’
Blake stood behind the chair’s headrest and lowered the dome-shaped cap on to Christopher’s head. Christopher squirmed, but he was stilled when Blake laid a hand gently on his forearm.
‘It’s best if you don’t struggle.’
Dunlop watched in nervous curiosity, his brow furrowed so hard he looked even more apelike and stupid than ever.
Christopher was about to ask what was happening when there was a bright chiming plik sound that seemed to resonate inside his skull. It was followed by a sudden bright light, and then the past came flooding in.
Christopher was so taken aback he didn’t have time to be afraid.
‘What do you see?’ asked Blake.
There was only one word to describe what Christopher saw. Only one word in the world did it justice.
‘Home.’
‘It’s working.’ Blake sighed with relief.
Christopher saw a long, low whitewashed cottage bordered by bushes of a deep green so lush and glossy he could almost reach out and touch them.
‘What can you see, Christopher?’
‘I see a house. I see my house.’
‘Can you go into the house for me, Christopher? There’s a good lad.’
Christopher was dimly aware that Blake was working away at the patches on his head. He thought about resisting, but he knew there would be no point. The truth was he was also desperate to see what he could find. It was almost impossible to resist. The bloom was as vivid as life itself.
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