“How can we do that?”
“As I said before, this is a holy war. They have deceit and malevolence, but we have truth and the Lord with us, so we can not fail, as long as we have our faith, Deon. It is important to know your enemy and to use their weakness against them. Everyone has something that they respond to, and something that they are afraid of, and fear is a powerful emotion. It is important that we use our actions to make people hear what we want them to. This is the time that we must place our trust in God, and do as he decrees, whatever that is, because His will is always the right thing to do.”
“I try to do that Caroline. But sometimes I’m not sure what it is that God wants me to do. I feel that I have a mission to perform, but I don’t always understand what it is.”
“That’s ok Deon. We don’t always understand what the Lord wishes for us. Sometimes He gives us duties to perform and they seem to make no sense at the time, but ultimately what He asks of us helps to create a better world for everyone who has faith. And that is the key, Deon: faith. If you have faith in your actions then God will always guide you.”
“But I don’t know what He wants from me now. I think I need to leave and put right what I’ve done.”
“Yes, that’s right, Deon. And I can help you.”
“Can you? How can you help? What should I do?”
“People today do not have enough faith, Deon. But have you seen recently that there is a resurgence of the Christian faith. People are again looking to God for guidance.”
“Since the explosions?”
“Yes. They have made people look to the Lord for protection from, atheism heresy and false religion.”
“And we need to fight the people responsible for the bombings?”
“Yes. Because it is the followers of the false religions who are responsible, and when they are destroyed the true faith can flourish. But first we need more believers to swell our ranks and help the fight.”
“It’s quite strange really,” Deon thought out loud. “Because the more our enemies attack, the stronger we grow.”
“Exactly, Deon. That is exactly what is happening. People do not need to know exactly who the enemy is, only that there is one, and then they will unite, and unity is our power. The attacks on us have ultimately aided our cause. They have given us strength, yet also have destroyed some of the hierarchy and corruption that plagues Christianity. We need one true faith. We must break the hold that the Protestants, Jehovah Witnesses, and all of these groups have, to return Britain to a one Church under God, and then united we can banish the heathens and Jews, the atheists, the Muslims, the Hindus, all of them. We can live a true Christian life without their disease infecting us. And this is happening, Deon. We are achieving this. This is not some plan for the future. It is happening now.”
Deon listened intently. “How can I help?”
Caroline took two small bags of pills from her pocket, and handed them to Deon.
“Take these, but be careful with them, and don’t ever mix the red pills with yellow capsules. The red pill is to be taken up to an hour before you need to perform your task. The casing will break down in your stomach, and is completely harmless on its own. When you are ready and positioned to show the ultimate act of faith and love of God, bite the yellow capsule and swallow the liquid it contains. When it mixes with residue of the pill in your stomach it acts as a catalyst, activating the incendiary agent within the pill.”
“They explode?”
“Yes Deon. They will simultaneously destroy our heretic enemies and take them to damnation, while the glory of your work means that you shall walk with Christ in paradise.”
Deon looked at the bags in his hands. “How many do I take?”
“Five red pills and one of the yellow capsules was all that was required for St Martin-in-the-Fields.”
“Is this the best way I can serve the Lord?”
“Deon, you need to redeem yourself, because you have made a great error of judgement. And now the police are looking for you, so you can not hope to stay free. Our enemies are everywhere. What I’m offering you now is your only chance to make something good of this situation.
“Where am I to take the capsule?”
“There is to be a debate amongst the leaders of every religious community concerning the ethics of cryonic resuscitation. There have been several of them recently; perhaps you saw the one broadcast on the ethervision? It is to happen in a building less than two kilometres from here tonight. We have a pass that will allow you into the audience, close enough to cause the maximum impact.”
“Will innocent people die?”
“No, there are no innocent people, Deon, only those who are with us, and they will join you in glorious resurrection. With so many of their leaders gone our enemies will be lost and easily confused and defeated, and people will see the glory of joining us. This action, Deon, will secure our future. You said that you thought God had a mission for you. Well He has, and this is it. That is why He has led you here. You decide what you wish to do and prepare yourself. I’ll be back in hour.”
As Caroline left, Deon wondered what he was to do. He sat in the room and looked at the innocuous looking bags of pills in his hand. Everything she had said made such perfect sense, and it could be his best shot of redemption. He decided to make a note of the reasons that he should do this thing, and pulled out the c-pac he still had secretly located on him. It had finished whatever last task he had set it for, and he looked at the results that his hacking had achieved. He couldn’t remember doing it, but obviously at some point he had checked alternative identities for Caroline. Yes, Philip had asked him to, because he thought he knew her, but there was a problem. The machine or the database it accessed must have been faulty, because the results made no sense. He needed some divine guidance more than ever now. And as he sat in contemplation he stared at the wall and the voices came again.
“Deon, he’s a useless shit.”
“He’s worthless. A waste.”
“He betrayed his friends.”
“Judas.”
Deon looked around the room but saw no one. However, by the blankets to the side of the room was the small reliquary. He turned it over in his hand. Maybe now was the time to ask it to share its mysteries and answer his questions.
The voices carried on:
“Deon, you know what you need to do. You must die.”
55
Mathew had nearly reached the Prince William before he even thought to contact Rei to tell her he was on his way. His mind was racing with the events of the evening. If he’d been unsure of what to expect from meeting Jessica, he’d certainly never entertained the discussion they’d just had. He was angry, and hurt, and felt ashamed at what he’d put her and Paula through. He pushed through the rain, his heart beating hard and irregularly, although he hardly noticed either that nor the weather. He barely acknowledged the stranger who helped him when he slipped in the rain. He activated the c-pac from his thumb and linked it to Rei and Philip’s, saying nothing more than he was on his way back. He switched the machine off, and watched for a second as a pair of lights travelled down the street towards him. The vehicle they were attached to slowed down as it approached, although Mathew took no notice. He looked out to the dark blackness of the sea, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning.
As he stood there thinking of everything and nothing he became vaguely aware of something pulsing at his side. He looked at the c-pac flashing on his hand and activated it to allow the incoming message. It was Philip.
“Mathew, we can’t stay here. Contact me as soon as this message is received. I’ve had a message from Deon and it looks like Warwick may have worked out where you are. As soon as….” The machine was switched off in mid flow by a gloved hand. Mathew hadn’t even heard Warwick approach him. He looked him straight in the face, the rain dripping down his heavy features.
“So. I suppose you’ve come to get rid of me permanently this time then?”
&
nbsp; “Mr Lyal, I have not come down to the backwaters of Britain to kill you. If that was my intention I would simply have sent someone.”
“Why are you here then?”
“To find out what you are intending, or expecting, to do.”
“Then stop me?”
“Then discuss it Mr Lyal. I really am not some twentieth century gangster with a devious plan and a gun in my pocket.” He paused and waited for Mathew to speak. The wind was high now and grey clouds were being blown piteously across the Devonshire night sky. “Well, what are you intending to do?”
“I’m going to get out of Britain, and then I don’t know. But you can threaten me, or kill me for it. I don’t care. I’m past caring. I can cause trouble for you and I don’t care about the consequences, because I’m already dead, and I have nothing left here to lose.”
“Indeed you do not; and as for causing trouble for me. I have money and influence, and so anything you say can be unsaid. Any proof of misconduct can be refuted. You are a man who has been through a terrible ordeal, people will pity you, but they won’t rally to your side. And first you would have to prove that you are who you say are. Which would be harder than you think; especially considering that you have been certified dead twice now!
“But there is one thing more for you to consider. You are ill. Your original heart problem has been treated, but not cured. And the plethora of complications of your renaissance is beyond the abilities of most doctors; and I fear beyond the financial abilities of you or your friends. Have you noticed the tiredness and fatigue drawing in on you? Chest pains as well I would have expected. Probably confusion. Flashbacks? Mr Lyal, you are a severely sick man, and not in an ideal state to travel. I can not tell you your life expectancy, but it may be weeks, or days. You have over-exerted yourself and lived several days with little or no medication whatsoever. I can offer to prolong your life, temporarily, and only if I choose to. But travel is not recommended. And to where? Where would you be welcome? The countries of Europe have problems enough without you throwing yourself at their mercy. Japan? Well possibly. But how do you get there? What will you do when you arrive? How do you support yourself? You have nothing to offer this world except a glimpse of the last century’s banality. I’m afraid that you will have to accept that today you are nothing more than a member of a freak show. People are interested in what you are, not who you are. They will come and stare at you, and then leave and forget you. Your only place in this world is as an outsider. My apologies if this sounds harsh, but it is true.
“So you have your choices. To come with me and live out the last of your few days under my attention, where I can learn from your condition; or to run, and die like some hunted animal or a road kill. I can assure you it is not my intention to kill you, while you are in my care, but I really can’t have you living in the outside world and talking to whomsoever you choose.”
“And what if I choose neither? I don’t want to be prey or a lab rat. I’ve fucked things up, but I want a little piece of dignity. Or is that too much to ask in your fucked up world?”
“Please remember that our world of today is only that which was created out of the past; your own world. You are an angry man; but your anger is at yourself and the choices of your peers. Your generation, like so many before has failed to achieve what they wished. You, Mr Lyal, are the first man in history to have seen that come to pass first hand as a relatively young man, and to have seen the long-term consequences of your failures without the passage of time to cloud your view. And your arrogance has come back to claim its price in your present predicament.
“So if your choice is the highly brave and noble position of choosing personal freedom over more sensible and practical alternatives – which is so typical of your time with its propensity to apathy – then how do you intend to carry out this stance?”
Mathew felt the chill of the wind on his face blowing the tears that were starting to fall. Yes, he was tired, and the pains in his chest had been getting worse. The aching in his limbs was intense and he realised that he was sorely tempted to take the choice of medication and immediate relief from the pain. But to what ends? Warwick was right in his own sarcastic and supercilious manner. What use was he to this world? All the people he had loved were dead. Paula hadn’t waited for him, and why should she? How long would he have waited for her he wondered: A couple of years? A decade? And why should he have expected his daughter to greet him with open arms and a forgiving heart. He had been an absent father, no less than his own, and although the cause may have differed, the results were the same. So it was time to decide which of the unwelcome choices he would take in this hostile world.
To one side a light flickered on and a figure was momentarily visible over Warwick’s shoulder. Even in the darkness the gait of Philip was unmistakable. He was walking across the path carrying a flashlight, which lit spots of wet ground in front of him. The beam raced up the path and stopped on Mathew’s face. Warwick turned slowly and deliberately towards the source of the light.
“I would seriously recommend that you leave now if you ever want to work in journalism again,” Warwick said through gritted teeth.
“Mathew, we have to go now. I don’t know what this prick’s said, but your only chance is to get away from here.” Philip stood still for a moment, but when no one else moved he marched purposefully up to Mathew, using his body to push the doctor out of his way.
He grabbed Mathew’s arm. “Does no one here ever make decisions but me? Mathew, come with me. You,” he turned to Warwick, “find a fucking hole and crawl into it. And I promise you that one day I’ll get a piece written on you, you slimy shit.”
“I can’t let you take Mr Lyal,” Warwick said with a certain venom in his voice.
“He’s far too valuable to me to allow you to have to him, and risk him coming into other hands. Lyal, you do know what these two will do. Neither can work. Neither has an income, and no way acquiring a living following their actions. They will sell you. They will sell you dead or alive. You are a pay cheque to them, you shouldn’t trust them.”
Mathew looked at Warwick but stumbled towards Philip, who grabbed him and led him off. Warwick lurched forward and grabbed Mathew’s other arm.
“I have all but created him. I own this man,” he cried. Philip raised his arm thrust the full force of his forearm into Warwick’s face. The doctor crumpled to the ground.
“Get the message,” Philip said standing astride the doctor with Lyal on one arm and pointing aggressively with the other hand, ignoring the pain from his swollen fingers, his eyes small and the scar on his face deep in the pale light from the torch on his belt. “This man does not belong to you, and you should get up and fuck off before I do something that you will really regret. I’m right out of patience with this whole thing, I really don’t give a rat’s fuck about you anymore, pal. So just get up and fuck off.” He wheeled around and half-led, half-dragged Mathew towards the car.
Rei’s door was still bolted.
“She must be here, there’s nowhere else to go,” said Mathew, getting agitated.
“I know, I think something bad’s happened. Step back a little.” Philip kicked the old wooden door as hard as he could twice and the lock gave way. The room was tidy but empty.
“Could she be out still?”
“Well it’s possible, but I really want to get out of this place before Warwick arranges anything else. Shit,” he stopped and looked at Mathew. “I’m sorry I didn’t even ask how it went with Jessica. You must need to stay here, or at least come back.”
Mathew shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m about 70 years too late. You were right, I’m afraid. She didn’t want to know.”
“And Paula?”
“No,” he said, his head down and his eyes empty. “No Philip, it’s all too late. None of it mattered in the end.” He began to shake and felt Philip’s arm on his shoulder as he let the emotions of the lost decades take control.
“Come on, pal, we’ll
get you out of here and out of Britain. Just hang on through the rest of today and the worst of it’s over.”
Philip’s c-pac buzzed and an audio only communication came through.
“Deon, you really pick your moments, hang on” he said angrily. He turned to Mathew, “I need to take this call, Mathew, I’ll sort the transport through Deon then we’ll find Rei and go, ok?” He raised his hand and addressed the device. “Deon are you staying in London?”
“Er, yeah, I have something that I have to do here. I need to speak to Mathew, really. Can you get him?”
“It’s not a very good time right now to be honest. Did you check on Caroline?”
“Yeah, was I doing that for you? I don’t really remember.”
“Yes, Deon, I have a hunch and I need some information. You were checking any other identities that she’s used.”
“Well, she’s a very holy person, Philip, so I’m sure that she has a critical reason for anything she does, you know. Anyway, the results don’t make sense; I think there’s a fault on the file.”
“Well, tell me anyway.”
“There are several names that have been referred to.”
“Yeah, but one in particular is one you know isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I think it’s an error.”
“Deon, she swapped records with Nasreen Freeman, hasn’t she?”
“I think that’s a mistake though, because there’s no reason for that, and Nasreen got away from the fire at Unit.”
“Ok, Deon, I think maybe that isn’t what happened. They found 179 bodies at Fort Burlington and that accounts for the entire population of the place except for two. Now we know that you were one of those, and we now know that Caroline survived, so I think we’ll have to accept that at some point she swapped identities with Nasreen .”
“But why would she do that?”
“So that people would think that she was dead, Deon.”
The Relic Keeper Page 33
