“I was looking for a taxi. A bunch of lads thought I looked like fair game and tried to rob me. I foolishly tried to fight back.”
She whacked him on his upper arm. “What the hell were you doing? I told you to keep off the streets. Where did it happen? We need to report it.”
She already had her HALO ready to make a call, but Jack put his hand on hers. “Please, don’t. This is embarrassing enough. What difference are the police going to make? It’s not important.”
Anna hesitated, but put her hand down and shook her head. “This isn’t good Jack. I don’t like this at all. What are OsMiTech going to say when you turn up looking like that?”
“What will they care? Tell them it happened during the fight at my house.” And Jack didn’t care what OsMiTech thought of his behaviour.
“How bad is it?”
“Three cracked ribs and a broken nose. Suspected concussion.”
Anna’s eyes looked wet like she might cry for him. He desperately didn’t want that. He already felt that pitiful gripping of his chest that signalled his own emotions were about to erupt.
“They’ve got a bone knitting machine they’re setting up now. Should mend my ribs, but I’ll be here overnight.”
“And your face? Have they released any Nanosalve?”
“I haven’t asked. I’ve got some back at the house though.”
“You can’t go back there, don’t be stupid. I’ll speak to someone.”
And she left the cubicle. Jack closed his eyes and let the sounds of the department fade away. He’d learnt meditation techniques as part of his training; an easy way to help clear the mind of distraction. He focused on his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and let the thoughts drift over his mind like leaves on the wind. The pain was difficult to deal with. They’d offered morphine for the cracked ribs, but he’d refused, conscious that the cost would be a loose tongue and he didn’t trust himself to keep quiet about what had really happened. Anti-telepath protesters could be found in all walks of life. There were bound to be dozens in the hospital.
No one wants a telepath. Life was undeniably easier when people had to rely on their own wits and knowledge. Now that thoughts could be traded, life became trickier. OsMiTech helped, as did the Department for Regulation of Telepaths, but that did little to ease the fears of the paranoid.
When he’d shown his telepath tattoo at the reception desk, the smile had quickly vanished from the face of the receptionist. Friendliness was replaced with practised diplomacy. The doctor and nurses that had seen him had been extra cautious around him, none of them wanting to touch him for long in case that gave him the chance to read them. They’d have been happier if he’d have gone straight to the medical centre at OsMiTech, but his injuries needed dealing with—a delay could have proved fatally embarrassing.
The curtain swished open, but it wasn’t Anna. Burnfield strode in and stood at the end of Jack’s bed.
“You got something you want to tell me about how you got them injuries?” he said and nodded at Jack with a sour look.
Jack hesitated, but before he retold his lie, the detective cut him off.
“Don’t bother,” Burnfield said, “I’ve taken a call from Mack Crewe. He’s seriously pissed off at you gatecrashing an ongoing investigation. You better have a good reason or you’ll spend the night in the cells, injuries or not.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tapping the side of his leg.
“It was an ATL meeting,” Jack replied. “The man who killed Keeley was wearing an ATL pin. It came off in my hand when we were fighting. I went along hoping to find him.”
Burnfield stood rigidly, then lifted his head to look up at the ceiling before sighing. “And you didn’t think that was important information when I first interviewed you?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I forgot about it.”
“Of course you did,” he said sarcastically. “Stupid. Idiotic.”
The curtain swished and Anna returned. She’d a glass of water in her hand which she offered to Jack. “What’s going on?” she said, standing between Jack and the detective. “He’s under no obligation to talk to you.”
“Anna, no. It’s fine.”
She turned to Jack. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Jack told the pair of his adventures at the cinema, infiltrating the ATL meeting and almost getting killed. When he’d finished, neither of them were smiling, and Jack wished they’d just leave him to his shame.
“And did you find your man?” Burnfield asked.
“Yes. He was there all right.”
Burnfield nodded. “You were still stupid for not telling me. We could have had him.”
Jack wondered if that was true. Had Burnfield known there was an ongoing investigation into Growden? If he did, would he have risked that for the sake of catching the killer of a woman married to a teep?
“And now you know,” Anna said, “So, there’s nothing stopping you from apprehending him.”
Burnfield crossed his arms and loomed over Anna. “Like he’ll show up again at another public meeting after what happened tonight.” He snorted. “It’s not like the ATL keep a member’s list. You’ll have driven him underground.”
“So, have your forensic drones check out both locations: the cinema and Jack’s house. You’ll get a match.” Anna wasn’t backing down. As ever, she hated taking attitude from those in authority.
“How many people have been through that building in the last ten years? Forensics won’t find anything to help.”
“Street drones then,” Jack suggested. “A lot of people left that building in a hurry. If there were any drones in the area, they would have caught them on camera.”
“My thinking too,” Burnfield replied roughly. “I’ll get my team on it. In the meantime, if there’s anything else you want to tell me, now would be a good time.”
Jack shook his head, heat rising in his face. “There’s nothing.”
“Right, I’ll let you know how we get on. Take care of yourself.” And he left, pulling the curtain closed behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Anna’s shoulders slumped, and she sat on the chair beside the bed, not looking at Jack.
“They’re releasing some Nanosalve for use on your face,” she said softly.
“That easily?”
“Not easily at all. But a word in the right ear made it happen.”
“Listen,” he started, “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”
“But, you did anyway. I thought we were friends. I’m trying to help you get your life back together.”
Jack didn’t think that would be possible but remained silent.
Anna continued, “You could have got yourself killed.”
“I didn’t. But, I had to do something.”
“You should have told the police.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“And here it is.”
“What?” he asked.
“The attitude. You think you’re indestructible because you have that tattoo on your head. You’re not living in the real world. That can’t protect you from the likes of Growden. Let the police do that.”
“They didn’t protect Keeley from the ATL,” he countered. “What faith can I possibly have in them?” She didn’t reply. Jack wished he’d learn to stop being so argumentative. “Anna, Lavinia’s eye…Her husband was called Nikoli. What do you know about him?”
She frowned. Tiny lines appeared around the edges of her eyes.
“Where has this come from?”
“The notes OsMiTech gave me about Lavinia’s eye—it never mentioned what her husband did. I’m just curious.”
It was routine practice to give the remnant keeper the bare minimum of information for them to recall the memories. This was how mediums used to work when they’d enter haunted buildings. If they were given information, there was the risk that that would influence their recall report. If they went into it blind, they were relying on the information
gleaned solely from the memories themselves.
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
“But you do know. You must.”
“I must do nothing. You’ve been reckless tonight. I told you not to go out. You’ve got that eye still in your head. What if they’d damaged it? What kind of trouble would you be in then with OsMiTech?”
Jack didn’t want to talk to her anymore. He thought of just asking her to go, but the idea of being alone…
“What do you want me to say?”
“Sorry would be a good start.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Sorry.”
The word hung between them for the moment, Jack didn’t trust that he wouldn’t say more than he should. It wasn’t Anna’s fault about tonight. Putting him up in her own apartment wasn’t part of her job description—she did that out of friendship.
Eventually, Jack spoke. This time, the bitterness was gone, but his determination was even stronger. “I’m going to find out the background of this case. I need to know why someone wanted to take this eye. I’m going to find whoever killed Keeley and make them wish they’d never crossed a telepath.”
“You mean it,” she said, “I can see it in your face.”
“The police don’t want to help. They’re not going to go out of their way to solve this one. OsMiTech has got enough bad PR right now. This is going to get hushed up as soon as they get this eye back—well, that’s not going to happen. Not now. This is staying put until the man who’s ruined my life is at my feet begging for mercy.”
Anna looked pale. She glanced away at the curtain, perhaps thinking she should leave Jack to it. Maybe she would get in touch with OsMiTech and tell them about a suspected rogue telepath in the making.
“Nikoli Wei worked for the Department of Regulation of Telepaths. He was an auditor inspecting telepath records at OsMiTech. He was the target, his wife got in the way.”
“How much do you know?”
“Enough. More than I’m willing to tell you.”
“Why won’t you help me?”
She laughed, but it was an embarrassed laugh, angry even. “This is helping you. There’s only so far I’m willing to go. I’ll get scanned at OsMiTech. They’ll know I’ve told you this. I’ll be in trouble enough. I can’t help you if I get diminished.”
“His eye, it’s at OsMiTech? It’s going to a keeper?”
“Yes.”
“And you know who?”
“Yes,” she hesitated, then eventually shook her head. “What the hell…Honey Brown. His eye is going to Honey Brown.”
“Seriously?” Honey Brown wouldn’t have been Jack’s choice of keeper. “She can’t still be on the books. She’s in her seventies.”
“She’s still on the books. And she’s good. Her last three recalls have led to arrests. Her experience counts.”
“I thought she’d given it up.”
“We both know it’s not that easy though is it?”
“I want to come.”
Anna raised her hands and backed away. “Absolutely not. No way.”
“Someone tried to kill me for this eye. What makes you think they won’t try and take Nikoli’s?”
“It’s against protocol. And besides, OsMiTech aren’t stupid. The eye will be under protection.”
“A watcher isn’t protection. It didn’t help at my house,” he said.
“You’re right. That’s why I’m going as well.”
It wasn’t policy for handlers to go for the case drop off. Protocol had it that keepers were left undisturbed in their own homes. The presence of others, especially other telepaths could make it difficult for the keeper to get a reading from the eyes: too much telepathic interference. This was the same reason telepaths weren’t just brought to OsMiTech for the recall—too much background interference.
“They’re breaking their own policies. They’re worried that this is important.” Jack spoke slowly, sounding out the ideas that were forming slowly in his head.
“Of course they’re worried. Government employee killed. OsMiTech employee attacked whilst recalling memories. Your superiors aren’t all imbeciles. We are working to protect Honey and Nikoli’s eyes.”
“Let me come. I can help.”
She shook her head, and looked away, not wanting to keep eye contact. “You’re in no condition to come along.”
“She lives in a habitat block doesn’t she? Dangerous places. You’ll want someone else watching your back. Too many opportunities for the unexpected.”
“Jack, drop it. You’re not coming.”
Jack grinned, then grimaced as the pain from his face made him rethink. “You can’t stop me. I know which block she’s in. I’ll hang around waiting for you to show up.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she replied frostily. Jack knew he was risking his freedom. If he were Anna, he’d be calling OsMiTech right now and telling them about this arrogant telepath risking a remnant recall. But Anna wasn’t stupid. She was looking out for Jack, not wanting him in danger again.
“I can handle myself, despite appearances. You’ll be too preoccupied with the recall. Let me watch your back.”
The curtain swished aside again then and a young doctor with a wearied expression entered, realising he’d interrupted something important. “Oh, sorry, I’ve got the Nanosalve. I can come back later.”
And he was about to leave when Anna interrupted. “No, don’t leave. We’re done here.”
Sunday, 5 May 2115
9:00 AM
The operations room was empty when Edward Burnfield walked in, briefcase in one hand swinging gently as he walked, bottle of water in the other swishing against the inside of the plastic container. His footsteps buffered by the dark brown carpet, he moved silently across the space heading for his office.
His alarm clock had gone off at five a.m. but Edward had already been awake, looking up at the ceiling, chasing ideas down rabbit holes. He was always like this when new cases landed in his lap. Coming in so early was one habit he’d spent years cultivating as a junior officer and was one well worth learning. His brain always seemed to function better in these early hours, usually fuelled by coffee, but this morning fuelled by water. In that time before his own self-doubt and indecision kicked in, synapses were free to explore the random thoughts from his ongoing cases, finding patterns that most likely weren’t there at all, but needed pursuing none the less.
Sunday mornings weren’t usual working hours for the Telepath Crime Unit, not unless something drastic was going down. Overtime wasn’t the norm and that led to officers only coming in when ordered. Not like when he first started out. Back then, you came in pretty much every day unless you were incapable of moving. Criminals didn’t catch themselves, his boss would say at every morning briefing and the message had stuck with him.
Times had changed, though. The old school had left, leaving Edward and a few others of his generation leading the vestiges of the police force. Ever since the Three-Day War, the police had been a different beast, concerned as much with their own survival as the needs of society to catch criminals. Money had been funnelled away into projects like OsMiTech and new government departments obsessing over telepaths and their impact. Edward smiled ruefully. Even with that money and investment, they still ended up coming tail between legs to the police force to sort things out when it went wrong.
This Winston case being the perfect example. A telepath attacked in his own home in a nice suburb. And for what? A dead woman’s eyes. It made little sense to Edward, although he knew that it would given time.
The large open space was lit with concealed light tubes and panels in the wall that brightened as sensors noticed the detective walking through. In this main operations room, there were no windows so the light panels served as a substitute for natural daylight. It was a design that Edward detested. Arguably, to keep officers’ minds focused on their work, Edward believed it only put barriers between his department and the public. They didn’t spend enough time out on the str
eets as it was, at least with windows they could take a look at the world outside, see the faces of the people they were here to protect.
A huge display screen by a long table lit up on his approach, highlighting reports from the Winston murder. News feeds scrolled up a second screen filtered for the local area.
As he rounded the perspective table that acted as an operations desk, that too lit up and command buttons raised in light patterns across the surface waiting for input. He ignored it and turned to go into his office, but noticed Chloe sitting in her office already.
“Not got a home to go to?” he asked standing in her doorway.
She worked with her head down, eyes pouring over reports scrolling along the surface of her desk. Her hair was pulled back from her almond face and she zipped through reports at speed. Upon hearing her superior’s voice, she stiffened and stood up from her chair swiftly, closing down the report stream as she did so.
“Oh, sorry, Boss. Getting lost there. I sometimes just enjoy the quiet.”
Edward smiled. “What time are the rest of them getting in?”
“They worked late last night. Should be in by ten, though.”
Edward sighed and walked back to the operations desk. He hated his people having to work overtime—unpaid at that—but with dozens of statements and images from the drones at the ATL meeting, he had little option. Although the department’s AI could do a fair amount of that work, it still lacked the human touch—that intuition that every police officer needed to keep one step ahead.
“Any word from our have-a-go hero?” Chloe asked.
“He was discharged from the hospital this morning.”
“Still can’t believe the nerve. We should arrest him for obstructing an investigation.”
“Believe me, the idea has crossed my mind.”
The Remnant Keeper (Tombs Rising Book 1) Page 10
