The Remnant Vault (Tombs Rising Book 2)

by Robert Scott-Norton

  A minute later, he stepped off the access road and onto the main island in the middle of the lake. The main building and a few smaller supporting buildings, including the dormitory Jack had been encouraged to live at, were all based on the island. Jack crossed into the shadow of the great building and entered the central garden area in front of the main entrance. Neat well-tended hedges broke up the space into several squares fleshed out with plants and mature trees. Small groups of people were taking advantage of the fresh air and he received a few smiles as he approached. Their telepath tattoos were on display, and he saw a majority of class ones. He recognised none of them.

  As he placed a foot on the stairs leading up to the main entrance, a wave of pressure washed over him. The telepathic background field in this building was naturally much higher than out in the general populace and it always took a moment of readjustment to get used to it. Blocking shouldn’t be necessary as telepaths inside OsMiTech were diligent in following the Code. He hesitated on the threshold and opted to employ a low level blocking pattern. It would keep casual observers out of his head and to anyone else, he’d appear as an absence of thought, a void.

  The atrium was dominated by a colossal statue of the company’s founder, Devan Oster. Made from an artificial substance that resembled marble from this distance, the cream figure was posed standing, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Everyone was welcome at OsMiTech.

  A restaurant, one of three in the main complex, was on his right and a small queue had formed by the counter as people were grabbing a breakfast or ersatz coffee. On his left, were dozens of private pods that employees could use at times of stress to reduce the background noise and regain a control of one’s self.

  The air-conditioning chilled his skin, but he put the discomfort to one side as he approached the lifts behind the statue. Before he crossed the hall, a reception drone intercepted him and scanned his features. He stood still while it finished, and then it spoke: “Please proceed to level three.” It hovered close to his shoulder as he walked over to the lifts. The doors opened instantly. Jack stepped in but the drone had got bored with him and flew back to one of the charging podiums.

  The lift tugged Jack up through the building. Seconds later it stopped on the third floor and Jack stepped out. The walls were branded with the legend Anthology Storage Administration. A man was talking animatedly to the woman behind the desk. He was tall, over six foot but difficult to gauge whilst hunched over.

  “Hello,” Jack ventured and stepped into the lobby.

  His arrival precipitated a distinct change in the man. He abandoned his conversation with the woman and spun around to greet the newcomer. Jack looked up into his youthful, beaming face. Slim, his suit clung to him with the elegant lines created by a tailor. A mouthful of gleaming white teeth shone as he approached and grasped hold of Jack’s hand, pumping it furiously.

  “Jack Winston! About time. I’m Adam, your new handler. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you. Wished you’d have come in sooner mind, but then… whatever, you’re here now.”

  Jack took his hand back and attempted a smile. It felt uncomfortable, so he dropped it quickly. Adam was a proficient blocker, perhaps even more so than his driver. Not even a sense of mood.

  “Catch you later, hun,” Adam said to the beaming secretary as he walked Jack along the hall and into an office overlooking the atrium.

  Adam’s irritating tone brought him back to the present. “We’re a little short-staffed here at the moment. Upcoming audit.”

  Adam perched on the chair next to Jack, his knees uncomfortably close to Jack’s own. The guy didn’t seem to have a feeling for personal space. Jack shifted a little, but tried to make it look like a natural repositioning.

  A datapad had appeared in Adam’s hand and the man’s fingers danced through various screens of stats and text.

  For a moment, there was a silence between them. Jack wondered if this was Adam’s actual office or just some meeting space. Besides the desk and table, and vase of plastic flowers, there was nothing to suggest this was a personal space of any kind. Perhaps Adam just didn’t have a personality.

  “So, how’ve you been?” Adam put the datapad on his lap.

  “You know, OK, I guess.”

  Adam nodded. “Good. You’ve certainly been through it haven’t you?”

  “It’s been an eventful month.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife. Terrible business.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “And now?”

  “Now what?”

  “How are you now?”

  Jack considered the question but didn’t know how best to answer it. Eventually, he settled on: “I’m fine.”

  A suspicious grin flashed on Adam’s face. His cheeks pulled back and his eyes lit. “Yes, stock answer number one.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s what we’re meant to say isn’t it? We’re fine whenever anyone asks us a personal question we don’t want to answer properly. It’s like code for ‘piss off and mind your own.’” Adam smiled at his own insights.

  “What do you want me to say? If I say I’m fine, then I’m fine. It’s not a code. If I wanted to tell you I was feeling like shit, I’d tell you.”

  “Do you feel like shit?”

  “No.”

  Adam held his gaze. “OK then. Moving on… Where are you living at the moment?”

  “I’ve moved back home. But, I think I’m going to sell it.”

  “Are you sure that’s for the best? You’re not jumping the gun?”

  Jack stared at him, then wondered how long it would take Adam to reach the bottom of the building if he were to be shoved through the window.

  “None of this is for the best. The best would be if my wife were still alive, and I was just getting on with things.”

  Adam nodded, an eyelid flickered.

  “Why have you been avoiding this meeting?”

  His directness surprised Jack for a second. “I only cancelled once.”

  “Three times actually. You also rescheduled a further two appointments and failed to show for either of them. You’ve become elusive, Jack.”

  “It’s just, I’ve not been ready.”

  “When you had that smart eye fitted, it was on the understanding you’d come here for a full check-up. You’ve been walking around with that in for two weeks and we’ve not seen you.”

  “The nurses at the hospital checked me out.”

  “Our staff told you to come here... ”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  Adam smiled but his eyes betrayed him.

  “And is it causing you any discomfort? Any headaches?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re not drinking again?”

  Jack hesitated. “I don’t drink.”

  Adam frowned. “I took the liberty of checking your purchases and can see you’ve been buying a packet of painkillers every other day since this began. I’m surprised they haven’t refused you, but I suppose there’s lots of chemists in the district who’ll gladly take your credit.”

  Jack felt something shift uncomfortably inside him. A burst of anger at the thought of Adam accessing his purchase account without permission.

  “You can’t just pry like that,” Jack said. “You shouldn’t.”

  “It’s not that straight-forward though is it, Jack? You’re an asset of this organisation. We’ve a vested interest in making sure you’re able to perform well. It’s in our constitution and I know that you know it’s also in your employee terms and conditions. You didn’t expect to just continue not showing up for these sessions, to avoid your responsibilities as a keeper, without some repercussions. Believe me, there are those higher up who wanted you brought in sooner, and they wouldn’t have sent the nice car for you. You should thank me for setting them straight and giving you some breathing space. But, this is it my friend, this is the end of the road. There’s no more hiding.”

  Whoever had taken an interest in
Jack’s wellbeing was piquing Jack’s curiosity. He’d not been naïve enough to believe that after his run-ins with the police he’d be left alone, but he’d never considered that anyone important would monitor his behaviour so closely.

  “I’ve done a lot for this organisation,” Jack intoned, making every word count. “I didn’t want to be a remnant keeper. That was chosen for me. I never asked to have dead people’s eyes inserted in my head or had any desire to recall those last few painful moments of death. That was expected of me. Having my wife murdered as a side-effect in establishing the cause of someone else’s tragedy… I never wanted that either. I’ve paid my price, so don’t dare to make me feel bad just because I’ve wanted time to myself.”

  Jack stood up and headed for the door, not caring what Adam would reply with.

  Until he heard it.

  “If you leave now, they’ll come for you.”

  Jack hesitated, then slowly turned around and looked at Adam. Gone were the bright eager eyes, the smile, the aura of efficiency and enthusiasm. In its place—

  Jack came back into the room and sat down on the edge of the desk. He looked down at Adam and tried to work out how long he could have been in this job. Only a year perhaps, and already they’d thrown him to work with Jack.

  “OsMiTech looks after its own, Jack. I wouldn’t want to be an outsider. Not anymore.”

  “OsMiTech doesn’t look after anyone but itself.”

  “OsMiTech isn’t anything without its people. The people are OsMiTech. We’re all a part of it. We all have a vested interest in making sure OsMiTech endures.”

  Jack held his gaze, then looked down to his feet. Inside, he knew that what Adam said was right. OsMiTech was the best insurance the people had against the government. Devan Oster had long been a vocal political opponent of Ambrose and having him in control of the country’s telepaths meant there was some balance. Jack didn’t doubt that Oster was dancing to his own tune, but a country without OsMiTech was a place Jack couldn’t believe would survive.

  “Tell me, how long have you been doing this?” Jack asked.

  “Three months. Graduated, registered, then trained for this position.”

  “Why here? What’s the appeal of working in Anthology Storage?”

  “Pays well. A feeling that perhaps we’re doing good.”

  “That’s what I thought at first. Rather than being some rich businessman’s play thing, I thought I’d do public service. Catch the people that the police couldn’t catch. And I believed in it.”

  “But, you don’t anymore?”

  Jack scratched the back of his ear. “I don’t know what I believe in anymore. I think a time comes for all us when we look at our lives and ask those deadly two words.”

  “Why me?”

  Jack shook his head, grinning. “What if?”

  Adam looked back down at his datapad as if that resolved everything.

  Jack continued. “What if I walked away from my past like it never happened? What if you passed whatever psych test you’ve been asked to perform on me and let me go?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “What if, we showed our hands to each other?” Jack sat on the edge of the table and looked down at Adam. “I want out.”

  “Out?” Adam replied.

  “I want you to schedule me for remedial eye surgery to undo all this.” Jack idly waved his hand around his adapted eye socket. “Put this back to how it was before this began. Give me a new eye and let me lead a normal life. I don’t want to be a remnant keeper anymore.”

  Adam sighed, loud enough for Jack to wonder whether it was natural or not. “I can’t do that.”

  “You can. It’s just surgery.”

  “OK then. I’ll rephrase. I won’t do that for you.”

  “I don’t see that I’m giving you any choice.”

  Adam stood and looked out of his office window, down into the atrium outside. “What you’re asking—it’s complicated. You’ll be subjected to tests and more psyche evaluations than when you were first adapted.”

  “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “And what about the good you’ve done? The cases you’ve solved.”

  “If I’ve helped, then good, I’m glad. But enough’s enough.”

  Adam shook his head. “You’ve been given some leeway because of your wife’s death. But, our patience is wearing thin. I’ve been instructed to get you back on the rota, ready to take cases.”

  “Then you’re going to be disappointed. I’m not doing it. I won’t take any. You can’t force me to do this anymore.”

  Adam went quiet. Jack wondered whether he’d crossed the line, but it was how he felt and he wasn’t about to back track to makes Adam’s life easier. Eventually, Adam spoke but his voice had changed, gone was the cheery tone. “You’ve had the dream, seen the whispering forest?”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

  “It’s a sign that change is coming. It’s inevitable. Conflict, maybe even a war.”

  “You’ve been reading too much of the network feeds.”

  “Perhaps, but only a fool would ignore the portents. One day soon, you’ll have to make a choice. Stand with your own, or against. Don’t do anything rash.”

  “You’ve not been listening. I’ve already made my choice and I choose out. Find a way to make it happen.”

  11:19 AM

  The house was old and looked like it should have been torn down years ago. Plaster had cracked from the side of the building, exposing great patches of brickwork underneath. Lines like a road map crawled all over the remaining plaster making Edward imagine the whole surface just sliding off one day. The guttering was hanging away from the roof-line, a few broken brackets, and moss and leaves were protruding from the black troughs. Tiles were missing and the window frames were cracked with peeling paint.

  “Some home,” Edward said.

  “Could be worse,” Chloe replied. “He could be in a block.” In the distance behind the house, the giant habitat block G6 was dominating the skyline.

  There was no car up the driveway and weeds dominated the cracked tarmac, coming up waist-high. The garden, such as could still be seen, could not have been tended to in years. A thick weed blanketed the area that had once been a lawn. Flower beds were discernible only by the slightly darker mounds on the perimeter.

  The house was semi-detached and shared a wall with next door. That house, although not exactly gleaming, was faring a damn sight better than Maguire’s residence.

  “Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Chloe asked, as she leaned into the front window.

  “See anything?”

  “Nah, he’s got a privacy filter over the glass. Can’t see a thing.”

  The bell wasn’t working, so Edward knocked on the door loudly with the side of his fist. No reply.

  “Do you think he lives alone then?” he said to his colleague.

  Listening at the door, he couldn’t hear any sign of movement.

  Edward knocked again whilst Chloe pulled open the garden gate and began a walk to the back of the house. She returned moments later. “Back door’s locked. Looks like we’re stuck.”

  “Can you smell that?”

  “What?”

  “Burning. I’m concerned that the house might be on fire. We’ll need to force access to make sure the property and any potential residents are safe.” He grinned, then retrieved a small device from his pocket. After tapping a few buttons, he held the tablet up to the HALO plate by the front door, and a whir and a click later, the door unlocked.

  He pushed it aside and stepped into the house.

  It took a moment to comprehend exactly what he was seeing.

  The house was spotless in direct contrast to the state of the outside. They stood in a short hallway with stripped bare floorboards and spotless white walls. There were no decorations or furnishing, and it felt like he’d entered the wrong house. A disconnect between t
he outside world and this one.

  “This is strange,” Chloe voiced what they were both thinking.

  Edward couldn’t hear any noises from inside. “Hello! Police. Anyone home?” They waited a moment before venturing through the first doorway into what presumably would have been the lounge. A single hard-backed wooden chair sat in the middle of the room facing the wall. “What do you make of this?” Edward asked.

  He was looking at a pattern that had been painted, or embossed onto the clean white wall, about three feet across. Angular lines and abstract shapes, some filled in, some hollow, crossing on top of each other. He slipped his hands into his pockets and tried to ignore the beads of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

  “Art lover?” Chloe replied, glancing at it before walking along the rest of the room. “I’ve heard of minimalism, but this place takes the biscuit.” There was a soft scent of flowers and Edward spotted an air-freshener resting on the windowsill.

  “Hello?” Edward called out again as they moved into the kitchen area. Most of the walls were bare, save for the one facing them, opposite the door which housed a compact fridge and a small oven. He opened the fridge and pulled out one of several packets of unlabelled food. He showed the identical ready meals to Chloe who pulled a face and then he noticed the same abstract art on the kitchen wall he hadn’t been able to see when he’d first entered. Chloe saw it too and frowned. “Serious art lover?”

  Edward couldn’t help but shiver. “He’s certainly a man with simple tastes. Let’s check upstairs.”

  The same white walls greeted them in every room they entered. The bathroom helped prove that the place was being lived in with a can of deodorant and other toiletries lined up on the windowsill. Another picture above the sink where most people would have a mirror. Every time he glanced at it, his eyes lingered a little longer, tracing over the edges and following the patterns around the mural, seeing where each began and each ended. His stomach rolled, like the feeling he got if reading in a moving vehicle.