Phoebe Harkness Omnibus

by James Fahy

  “Familiar sight, eh?” the voice spat. There was a burst of static, interference. “Used to seeing test subjects? Makes for an interesting science project. You humans are so fond of those.” The voice sounded furious, lip-biting, blood-spitting angry. “Well, it’s your turn now! How many killed? How many for the sins of mankind? This is only the beginning! I promise you.”

  The picture was lost for a second. More static, a high squeal, and then it was back. A hand had entered the frame. “You think you are untouchable! Cabal, the new order. You think you own the world! But we remember what was done! And there will be payment, an eye for an eye…” The hand raised up in front of the camera; it was gloved and gripping a pair of large and unpleasant pliers. “And a tooth for a tooth! Five sinners, five will pay!”

  The camera became too shaky to make much out, the cameraman was shuffling toward the chair, towards Trevelyan, pliers held aloft. She was beginning to stir, groggily. The cameraman chuckled, a noise that chilled me, in the midst of all the anger and the shouting, a bubbling wet chuckle which sounded utterly unhinged. “Five will pay, and the sun will rise!” it spat. “Harkness, Harkness, poor poor Vyvienne needs your help … the sun will rise!”

  The screen went to full static-hissing snow.

  I sat frozen. Servant Leon Harrison turned the monitor off and silence descended.

  All three Cabal members were looking at me closely. Cloves and Harrison with calculating looks. The minister, or whatever he was, gazing at me emptily through heavy lidded eyes. I stared at the blank screen, mute with horror. That thing doing the talking, the kidnapper, whoever, whatever it was, so angry, so utterly bat-shit crazy and dangerous, had just sang my own name out of the screen at me.

  “Now perhaps you understand why we are hoping for your cooperation, Dr Harkness,” Veronica Cloves said. She sounded roughly two minutes away from fetching thumbscrews and starting her own fun home video interrogation.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I looked up at them, still feeling nauseous. My forehead had broken out in a sickly sheen of sweat, I was deeply hoping they would recognise it as revulsion and not interpret it as guilt. “I don’t know … I don’t know why it said my name.”

  The person who had made the DataStream clip, was almost certainly a he, but I couldn’t help thinking of it as an ‘it’. I’d never heard a voice like that. Almost animal.

  “Voice pattern analysis suggests that the speaker, and, if we can assume, the kidnapper, is a Genetic Other,” Servant Harrison said. “Specifically of the type who deem themselves ‘vampires’. You met with a vampire only last night, the same night your supervisor went missing, and only hours before this DataStream was made and her teeth were returned to us here.”

  After the initial shock, I was slowly regaining my equilibrium. “And what?” I asked. “Are you suggesting that this is a personal issue? Revenge on me for something, because I’ve had a few bad break ups, believe me, but none of my exs have been quite so gibberingly psychotic, and as far as I remember, they all had pulses.”

  “We’re not suggesting that you were involved with the abduction, Dr Harkness,” Harrison countered.

  “Really? Because that’s pretty much what it sounds like! Okay, yes, I met a vampire last night, but to put things in perspective, so did everyone else in that damn auditorium. The only reason he was speaking to me is because Trevelyan hadn’t shown up herself. If anything, it’s more likely it was her he wanted to speak with in the first place. She was certainly the speaker on the bill when he applied for his ticket.”

  I mentally counted to five (I couldn’t make it all the way to ten) but it still managed to give me time to stop my voice becoming increasingly shrill. “And if you think I have some kind of involvement with the Genetic Others further than my work here at the lab, and that this is some kind of a warning to me or a punishment, trust me, any GO who knew me even slightly would know that if they wanted to get to me, taking Trevelyan out of all the people I know is a pretty unlikely call.”

  This sounded mean, even to my own ears. I had only meant that if someone was sending me a personal message and wanted me to suffer, why wouldn’t they hurt Griff or Lucy? Someone I actually cared about on a day to day basis. Trevelyan was basically my archnemesis under usual circumstances.

  “There is no doubt that the kidnapper is addressing you specifically, Dr Harkness,” Cloves pointed out helpfully. “Whoever has done this knows Trevelyan’s team. Knows you work here, and fully intended you to receive and view this … clip.”

  “I wish I could tell you why,” I said, with absolute honesty. “I genuinely do.”

  “You are certain…” Harrison said, “… that there is nothing you can think of. Nothing your supervisor shared with you, said to you, which could shed any light on these events?”

  I was getting restless now. “I already told you, we were not best buddies. Vyvienne and I didn’t exactly braid each other’s hair. If she was talking to me, it was mainly to shout.” I had the feeling that these three were looking for a fall guy. That somehow they wanted to incriminate me, have me take the blame for these terrible events. My temper made me bolder than usual.

  “Look, if you’re going to arrest me, just do it,” I said. “Because I honestly have no idea what’s going on here. I don’t know the first thing about my supervisor, I don’t know who the scary movie maker is, or why he’s so obsessed with the sun coming up. But if the police are going to be involved here, call them already, and maybe I can go and answer their questions in a nice cell downtown.” I was painfully aware that ‘downtown’ was an Americanism, but I was feeling understandably dramatic, given the circumstances.

  The godfather spoke, looking directly at me for the first time since he had directed me into the morgue. He had the dead eyes of a fish. It made my skin crawl.

  “You misunderstand, Dr Harkness,” he rumbled slowly. “You are not being arrested; you are Cabal’s only link to the world of the GOs. You’re our only agent who has any interaction with those we study outside of chemical testing.” He leaned forward across the desk toward me, his movements laborious. “Your encounter last night with the one who calls himself Allesandro. It may be essential to us. I mean for you to exploit it.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, or protest, but he held up a stubby finger patiently.

  “You are not being arrested or accused, Dr Harkness,” he said, and his small eyes glinted. “You are being promoted.”

  “And if I don’t want the promotion?” I asked.

  “Trevelyan’s influence was largely the only thing keeping funding flowing into Blue Lab, Doctor Harkness,” Servant Harrison said lightly behind me. “If she is not found, well, let’s just say it would be likely that certain areas of interest would need to be cut.”

  “These are tough economic times,” Cloves agreed. “Your life’s work? The careers of your young team, those you care so much for, as you say.” She folded her arms. “Trevelyan threw a lot of weight at the Cabal Board to continue in her field. It would be a terrible shame for everything to fall apart without her.”

  I’d never been threatened with a promotion before. Hold a gun to my head and you might get a stubborn smart-arse remark. Threaten to take away my research, disband my team? That’s different. A doctor without access to Blue Lab, without resources? I’d be selling snake oil in two weeks. No hope for my research, no future for my team.

  The dead-eyed godfather smiled. “Congratulations, Dr Harkness. I’m sure you’ll be a most useful asset to us.”

  I did the only thing I could. Mustering what dignity I had, I stood, chin up, and smeared my palm the full length of the desk.

  11

  Lucy and Griff were both waiting for me in Blue Lab 4 which, after escaping the hideously oppressive depths of ‘upstairs’, felt like a breath of fresh air and a home away from home.

  They both stared at me in quizzical silence as I entered my own territory, finally shedding my winter coat and sliding into my lab whites. Both of the
m had faces like expectant puppies. Clearly the fact that I was two hours later than usual for work, and undoubtedly with only Miranda’s sketchy report of the scene in reception to go on, meant that they were waiting for me to spill the beans.

  Problem was, I was on strict orders not to. Level One security clearance meant that I knew what I did. It also meant that no one else did, and part of the job role I had just been very unwillingly ushered into was to ensure it stayed that way.

  “Morning,” Griff said eventually, when I was evidently not going to explain my tardiness.

  “Morning,” I replied, as normally as possible. “Look guys, Trevelyan … isn’t coming in again.”

  Lucy clapped her hands with glee at this news. “Yay! At least this means she hasn’t given the order to pull the plug on our funding yet. I told you things hadn’t gone as bad as you thought last night.” She paused mid-clap. “So did she turn up eventually then? I’m guessing too many margaritas and now a sick day.”

  “No idea,” I lied, trying to keep it brief. “She’s not here, though, so as far as I’m concerned it’s business as usual. You guys keep working on Epsilon. I want all the data we worked up for the presentation running parallel with the overnight strains, match what we know against whatever new data have come in during the few precious hours we weren’t actually here last night.”

  “I hear there was some excitement at reception this morning?” Griff probed, bringing me a coffee from the warming pot, which I took gratefully as I slid into my station and ran my hand across the screen, firing up the systems.

  “Yup,” I said as breezily as I could manage. “Just some Cabal admin, that’s all.” He didn’t move away. “Our noble leader normally deals with this, but as she isn’t here, looks like I have to shake all the hands and kiss all the babies’ heads.”

  Griff frowned at me. God, I am a terrible liar.

  “That’s all?” he said. “Huh. We thought the men in black had taken you away to put a chip in your brain or something, Doc.”

  I had a folder in my hand as I sat at my desk, and I slid it straight into my drawer, making sure neither of my team saw it. I was going to have to look through it ASAP, but I was doing everything in my power to keep Griff and Lucy out of this whole mess. The less they knew the better, as far as I was concerned.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” I said, amazed that I could even manage to say that, considering what I had just seen. As far as ordinary went, I was about as far out of it as I ever wanted to be.

  “What did you mean when you said ‘you guys’?” Lucy asked suddenly, looking confused as she perched on the edge of Griff’s desk.

  “What?” I asked distracted. I was staring at my screen, scrolling quickly through folders and sub-files.

  “Just now, you said you wanted us guys to work the Epsilon data, me and Griff,” she elaborated. “So … what are you going to do then?”

  I had just found the files I wanted on my system. I tried to keep the look of surprise off my face. With a gesture or two on screen I created a further subfolder, then I dumped them into a DataStream clip and unplugged it, pocketing the stick.

  “I have to go out,” I said simply.

  “Out?” said Griff perplexed. “But … you just got in.” I was acutely aware how unusual this was. I never go out. I even begrudge fire alarm tests. If I had my way, I would sleep in the lab. I had considered in the past if some kind of hammock could be arranged. It certainly would have saved me on rent.

  I chugged my lukewarm coffee and retrieved the paper file I had just hidden in my drawer, pocketing it along with the DataStream stick.

  “I know,” I said. “Sorry, just in and out today, needed to pick up some stuff. You two will be fine here, you both know what you’re doing, just … run the parallels okay? Admin stuff, while Trevelyan is off, that’s all.”

  I had already shut down my system and was headed back for the door, completely forgetting my winter coat.

  “Dr Harkness?” Griff called after me, sounding genuinely concerned. He caught up to me at the inner lab doors, my coat in his hand. I took it gratefully. “You sure everything’s okay?”

  I waved a hand flippantly over my shoulder as I entered the long ultraviolet corridor.

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry,” I said.

  Later on when things got bad, that claim would come back to bite me right on my arse.

  12

  I managed to escape the Blue Lab complex without encountering anyone else. Even Miranda on reception was otherwise engaged dealing with a huddle of scrawny-looking techs from level six who were checking in for the day. This was a distraction for which I was ridiculously grateful. I was able to sneak out without the hundred or so questions she would doubtless have had for me. I headed for the main exit, feeling like a fugitive escaping a maximum security prison, certain with every treacherous step I took towards the main doors that at any moment, someone was going to call me back, demanding to know what on earth was going on. No one did.

  The sight of Veronica Cloves waiting for me outside in the university quad, huddled behind the wheel of her demure acid yellow twin turbo Ferrari made my stomach flip. Of all people to get in a car with, I would not have chosen this woman. I would rather have climbed in a car with Oliver Reed after a serious night on the booze. To be fair, she didn’t look too happy about the pairing either as I slid into the passenger seat, shooting me a cool sideways glance. Neither of us were particularly pleased with the setup.

  “You got the files?” she asked curtly, putting the car into reverse and executing an exciting handbrake turn in the crunching gravel and slush. A couple of nearby students actually had to leap out of the way.

  “I did, but I don’t know what you expect to find on them. As far as I could see, they’re encrypted anyway.”

  Cloves put the car in gear and shot us out of the campus parking lot with a squeal of tyres and a shower of pebbles. I wondered at this woman. Purple suits, a bright yellow car and the driving style of a demon – she was hardly low key. Perhaps all the media attention, all those chat shows and talking head panels had gotten to her over the years. Veronica Cloves, force of nature.

  “That won’t be a problem,” she sneered with a shake of her sleek black bob, clearly flabbergasted by my naivety. “We have people for that.” She urged the Ferrari past the Mathematical Institute, along Kebel Road and out onto St Giles, blending us with the main off campus traffic of the city with only a smattering of panicked horns.

  *

  The last hour had been a worrying one for me. Down below in Interrogation Boardroom, after we had all watched the DataStream video again just for kicks, Mr Godfather, whose name I still hadn’t been given, explained that the reason I’d been brought in was not only because I was referred to directly in the ransom note (or threat, or whatever the hell it was) but also because Cabal, for all their influence and power, had overlooked one rather important thing in their quest to control our brave new world. They had forged no bonds whatsoever with the societies of the GOs. There were no vampire informants, no avenue to which Cabal could turn for information. The government that was dedicated to keeping its human population as human as possible, the government that poured almost endless funds into enterprises such as Blue Lab, defending our humanity, had not a single person placed inside the alternate society.

  Humans mixed with the GOs of course; the GO rights movement lobbied on their behalf, and then there were the fans who haunted every vampire hotspot, hoping to spot an immortal. But not one such person was Cabal. I personally considered this a particularly idiotic oversight.

  This, however, was apparently where I came in. With hooded eyes, the large nameless man explained that Cabal wanted me to make contact with the vampires, to act as a kind of unofficial ambassador, make links, dig around. Find out if anyone on their side of things might know what the hell was going on. And all of this because I had happened to catch the eye of the tousled-haired undead at the R&D presentation.
r />   The one time I get flirted with, it gets me drafted into the secret service.

  “I’m not sure what you expect me to find out,” I protested. “I’m a paratoxicoligist, not a private eye, and besides – and I’m sure this is more of a concern to me that it is to you – but if there really is a crazy vampire torturer running around the streets of New Oxford, there’s a good chance I could end up getting kidnapped and tortured myself.” These were two of my least favourite recreational activities, for the record.

  The Cabal member had been utterly unconcerned. “You will not be working alone, of course,” he told me in his gravelly murmur. “Servant Cloves here will be at your disposal. She is, I assure you, more than just a reassuring face on the screens of our city’s inhabitants. She is also a most competent agent.”

  From the look of shock and horror on Cloves’ face, this arrangement had clearly been news to her. She looked thoroughly appalled at the thought of working with me. It was clear testament to how much she was outranked by the nameless man, however, that she hadn’t argued. She simply opened and closed her mouth a few times, and then folded her arms and shot me a look of pure and undisguised hatred. Seriously, as if this was my idea of a good time.

  The nameless man had slid a manila file across the desk towards me, advising that it was all the intelligence they had been able to gather on ‘your mysterious Allesandro’. I wondered briefly at what point precisely he had become my Allesandro.

  “Where do we start?” Cloves had demanded, sounding very put out.

  Servant Harrison stepped in. “As you may know, Dr Harkness, Vivienne Trevelyan, as well as being the area supervisor for your own division in BL4, was also over several other … more sensitive departments.”

  I hadn’t known actually. Colour me out-of-the-loop.

  “Our findings from an internal search this morning show that approximately fifteen minutes after your last conversation with her, she wiped her own internal hard drive here in the system. We don’t know why; we are working on retrieving the information. However, we have found the ghost of a trail which suggests that immediately before she wiped her entire work board clear, she remotely downloaded several files onto your personal workstation.”