The Remnant Vault (Tombs Rising Book 2)

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The Remnant Vault (Tombs Rising Book 2) Page 7

by Robert Scott-Norton


  “I don’t like it, Sir.”

  “The picture?”

  “The house. The whole thing.” She was edgy. Looking towards the door. Edward felt the same. Every time he heard a strange noise, the creak of a floorboard underfoot, or a car driving past, it felt exaggerated and he hesitated.

  “If this is his house, we need to find out about him. What kind of person lives like this? What does he do? Where does he work?” They walked out into the landing and up to the last room.

  The bedroom was like the rest of the house, apart from one distinction: the pattern they’d seen on various walls, was now on the ceiling above the bed. Edward wondered why on Earth anyone would go to sleep looking at such a bizarre painting every night?

  “Weird,” Chloe said.

  “Yes, I got that. And have you noticed anything else?” She shook her head. “No technology. Where’s the AI? Where’s the access points?”

  Chloe had wandered over to the wardrobe. “I’m half expecting a body to fall out on me.” She opened the door then stared at what was inside. Carefully, as if she was withdrawing a sacred cloth, she pulled out a bundle of shirts. “That’s all he has. About twenty sets of identical clothes.”

  Edward stood beside her and looked upon the blue stripped shirts and plain black trousers. “It’s the same clothes as those he was found dead in.” He thought perhaps this was just a lazy way of living, and if it wasn’t for the other strange things they’d seen in the house, he might have assigned this behaviour to that of an eccentric. But this house was more than just eccentric; it was disturbing.

  “OK, Boss, what’s going on here? Is he just a nutter?”

  “I don’t know. Where’s all his stuff? Where does he get his food from? He must have a job to pay for this. Where’s the records?”

  “I’m thinking government.”

  “Why?”

  “Some kind of undercover officer. Perhaps his cover was blown.”

  Edward wanted to believe it was that simple but couldn’t. “But where’s his cover? This is the absence of an identity. He’s not hiding his identity from us with another. He’s not showing any personality at all.”

  Chloe was rooting through the drawers beside the bed. She pulled it out to show Edward the rows of immaculately rolled socks and underpants. All identical. “It’s like he’s a robot.”

  “Robots don’t eat.”

  “Religious then. The patterns could be something to do with a minimalist religion. What’s Buddhism go like again?”

  Edward shrugged. Religion wasn’t his thing. “Don’t Buddhist's have those little Buddha statues dotted about? Have you found any more personal records?”

  “Nothing yet.” The bedside table was empty besides a single paperback book. The cover looked dog-eared and creased through years of rereading.

  She flicked through a few pages then tossed it over to Edward. “It’s gibberish,” she said.

  The pages were old and had that yellowed edge to books you’d get when left on the shelf for too long. The paper cracked in his hands as he turned the pages. Then he read and saw what Chloe had pointed out; whilst the words may have been English, the sentences were gibberish.

  When does the shake rate the afraid control? When does the family achieve the reminiscent competition? When does the argument locate the vivacious base?

  And the questions continued all the way down each page. Edward scanned a few pages but didn’t notice any immediate repetitions.

  “Code book?” he suggested. “Perhaps you were right.”

  “Government agent? Undercover?”

  Edward shrugged and tossed the book back to her. “We need to keep hold of that. Bag it and bring it with us.”

  Edward wanted to leave, but this was all they had to go on. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I wonder… ”

  Chloe had wandered over to the window and was gazing out at the field behind the house. “What, Sir?”

  “This doesn’t feel right. We thought he was a loser didn’t we? Someone not worth wasting police time on. Just a no-mark. But this is something else. It feels like… ”

  “… we’re stepping across a line.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  He sighed, then shoved his hands in his pockets. He needed to get a team down here, scan this place top to bottom, but the moment they arrived, he’d lose this moment of reflection, where he could examine the house himself and come to his own unfiltered conclusions. “Keep looking up here, I’m going downstairs. Let me know if you find anything more than—” he gestured at the artwork on the ceiling.

  “Sure thing,” she replied, and he left her to it.

  Downstairs, he tried sitting in the solitary chair in the lounge and looked around him. It wasn’t comfortable, did nothing for his back, and yet he felt strangely calm here.

  Isolation.

  The word came to mind, and he didn’t know from where. But, it was apt. He could sit here and become isolated from the world outside. He tried to listen to traffic but despite the relatively busy road outside, there wasn’t a sound. He looked across at the mural again and considered its purpose. It should have a purpose. It wasn’t just a piece of artwork. Cautiously, he approached it until it filled his vision. It looked the same as the others in the house. To be sure, he ducked into the hallway and regarded the picture there for a moment, counting the number of red triangles floating over the green circles. There were five. Back in the lounge… five.

  With a cautious hand, he traced over the artwork. Nothing happened. He didn’t know what he’d expected.

  He sat back down on the chair and stared at it. Perhaps it was one of those curious trick pictures.

  If I stare long enough at it, am I going to see a herd of elephants rushing towards me.

  A slap hit him in the face.

  “Jesus,” Edward spat and got to his feet, pushing the chair away behind him.

  Chloe stood before him, agitated. She put her hand down by her side. “I’m sorry, but I had to. I was calling you from upstairs. You didn’t reply, so I came down and found you sat there, staring at the wall. Staring at that. You weren’t responding, so I—hit you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, quickly as they always did when she was scared.

  But, what the hell had happened?

  “I was looking at the artwork. Wanted to understand why he’d have so many of them around the house. And this chair. I must have nodded off.”

  Chloe shook her head. “No. You weren’t asleep. Your eyes were open. You were almost catatonic.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You were. Trust me.”

  And he did, of course he did. Chloe wasn’t one to become hysterical over nothing. This had unsettled her.

  “Are you OK?”

  He considered this. Despite a gentle rumbling in his stomach that suggested he should have had that bacon roll that morning, he felt fine. A little light-headed, but then, he had just been slapped in the face by his junior.

  “I’m good, Chloe. Fine, really.”

  She was holding something in her hand. She caught him looking at it. “Oh, this is why I wanted you. I found this under his pillow. I think it might be his girlfriend.”

  The photo showed Maguire, and a woman, sitting in front of a tree, in a garden setting somewhere, possibly a park. They were smiling, the warmth coming through the photo and making Edward sad that somewhere out there, was someone he cared about, that would now be sad that he was dead. They were holding hands. The woman had a ring on her wedding finger, partially hidden by Maguire’s hand.

  “Married perhaps. Call yourself a detective?”

  “Hey, at least I found it and didn’t take a nap.”

  He smiled. “Good work. Scan it and see if you can find out who she is.”

  She placed the photo on the seat of the chair and activated the inputs on her HALO. A beam of light zipped across and down the photograph, taking only seconds to complete. She held the HALO to her mouth. “Find a mat
ch for this woman. I want to know who she is.”

  Within seconds the HALO beeped it had results. Chloe stepped to the wall and held her hand up. The HALO projected a screen on to the wall, the original photo on one side, and on the other, a profile page from the OsMiTech network.

  “The same woman. Good work. We need to visit her. See what light she can shed on this.”

  This was a big deal. They had a new lead, something to take them away from this sterile environment and towards someone that knew the murdered man. But still, something irked him. He just didn’t know what.

  His own HALO vibrated, and he saw from the built in display it was a call he knew he wouldn’t enjoy.

  “Hi, DCI Meadows. I was just about to call, let you know Chloe’s made a breakthrough in the Maguire investigation.”

  Meadows sounded pleased with herself. “Maguire, oh. Excellent. Well keep at it. But, that wasn’t why I called. I’ve got good news for you.”

  Good news from Meadows rarely meant any such thing. He prepared for the worst.

  “We’ve secured a deal with OsMiTech. I’ve got you another teep.”

  “Great. When can we expect her?”

  “Him. And you already know him.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Who are we getting?”

  “Jack Winston.”

  “But—”

  “Listen, I know what you’re going to say, but we’ve got to work with what OsMiTech give us. And you’ve got two murders on your hands. Both with signs of telepath involvement. You need him. He’ll be an asset. Trust me.”

  “OK. I’ll go and speak to him.” Edward ended the call and sighed.

  Chloe hadn’t stopped looking at him throughout the entire call. “Well?” she asked.

  “You’d better get to work finding a clear desk. We’ve a new teep coming to play.”

  12:22 PM

  Edward pulled up outside the small semi-detached house and turned off the ignition. It was shortly after lunch but he’d lost his appetite; Meadows was manipulating him and he didn’t appreciate it.

  Moira may have been a teep but she’d done a good job on the team—mostly. Whether it was deliberate or not, he’d never be able to prove, but there’d been times when he’d questioned her commitment to tracking down rogues. Sympathiser? Possibly, but did it matter?

  Edward had come straight from his friend at the market who sold the best blocking patterns. You had to be in the know to get the best, but Edward had been there enough times over the years to get treated with respect. If there’s one thing you needed as a policeman chasing down rogue telepaths it was the ability to stop them reading your mind. The pattern buzzing around Edward’s head now was irritating in the extreme. A mixture of an old childhood memory that the trader had dredged up from somewhere and a song that had been playing on the radio that morning. It might have been better if he could tolerate that song, but the trader had told him that a good blocking pattern always came with an element of discomfort.

  He found himself humming the tune as he approached the house on foot. The street hadn’t changed since he’d last been here a few weeks ago. Curious how an event as devastating as a death can leave barely a ripple on the skin of a neighbourhood. The rain was starting again so Edward pulled his collar up and hurried to the front door.

  “All right, Jack.”

  The man who’d opened the door was a shell of the man he’d last spoken to at Keeley’s funeral. That man had been full of vision; a clear desire to go after the people responsible for his wife’s death. Now, though, he was dishevelled and in need of a shave and a haircut.

  “Come in,” Jack replied, standing aside to let the detective pass.

  Edward walked through into the front room.

  Jack followed him inside. “Make yourself at home,” he said.

  That wasn’t going to be easy. Several large packing crates were spread across the floor, with possessions littered on the carpet and sofas.

  “You’re moving?”

  Jack shrugged. “What else is there to do?”

  Edward shifted a short stack of books to make room on the sofa, then perched on the edge and watched Jack work.

  “How have you been keeping?”

  “So, so. You know.” He sounded full of confidence, but there was nothing behind the eyes, no spark of warmth.

  “Why not go to OsMiTech? Stay at the dorm for a while. Give yourself some space to think.”

  “I don’t trust them.”

  “They’re your people.”

  “Anna worked for them.”

  Anna had been Jack’s handler, employed by OsMiTech to manage the remnant keepers. Only Anna’s secret past as the country’s first recognised telepath had set in motion a chain of events leading to the death of Jack’s wife.

  “None of this is your fault. Anna had infiltrated them. How could you possibly have known who she was?”

  Jack lifted a pile of records from a chair and sat down by the window. He shook his head gently like he was shaking something loose.

  “I’m a telepath. I should have known.”

  “Did she ever let you scan her?”

  “I never had cause to ask.”

  “So your being a telepath had nothing to do with this. You could not have known.”

  Jack went silent for a moment and Edward wondered whether he was wasting his time even being here. Eventually, Jack’s face lifted and he forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I know you’re here about the job. Adam called five minutes ago.”

  “Adam?”

  “New handler. He said you needed a telepath on your team. You’re a man down. What happened?”

  “Accident. Our teep was hit by a bus.”

  “Jesus, sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, shit happens.” Edward interlocked his fingers and tapped one thumb against the other. “Cards on the table, Jack. I’m not sure why you’ve been assigned to me. I don’t think it’s a great idea.”

  A wry smile curled the edges of Jack’s mouth. “I’m being evaluated. They don’t want me back on the remnant keeper roster until they’re satisfied that I’m fit for purpose.”

  “I understand if you’d sooner ask to be reassigned to another team.”

  “That doesn’t seem to be on the cards at the moment.” Jack twisted his neck and looked out of the window. “Tell me about your teep.”

  Edward took a deep breath. “Moira was a class two. Had worked with us for three years, fresh from training. You met her. She was the teep that scanned you after Keeley… ”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “The security drones show she left for work early. She was rushing as she had to take her mum to a hospital appointment. She was an only child. Her dad died four years ago which left her as her mother’s sole carer. Engaged.” Edward shifted in his seat. “She crossed the road and got hit by the bus she’d been trying to catch.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Moira isn’t the death you’ll be looking at. There’s been another one. A man called Booth Maguire.”

  Jack sat forward in his chair.

  “Shall I make us a drink? I’ve coffee if you can take it black.”

  “Sure,” Edward replied and followed his host to the kitchen.

  “She loved this house,” Jack said.

  “I’m sure she did.”

  “OsMiTech saved us from moving into a habitat block. That’s where we would have been heading, if I hadn’t been tested, and I don’t know how long we’d have lasted there.”

  “You two were doing OK weren’t you?”

  “We rowed, everyone does, but the telepathy changed that. Gave me focus.”

  “You didn’t have that before?”

  He laughed. “Not working at Smettles. It’s not the kind of place you ever imagine breaking away from. My dad, he’d been there for twenty years, told me that as long as they keep paying, you keep showing up.”

  Smettles had been the first government run project in the district, trapping people in menial low
-paid employment, but keeping food on the table.

  “What did you do there?”

  “Admin. Technical department. I was a paper pusher, doing OK. But, it would never be enough to afford anywhere like this. It could have been worse. If I hadn’t been diagnosed when I did, I could have been there when the fire started.”

  “You lost your dad?”

  “Yeah, friends too. Trapped on the fourteenth floor. Some jumped.”

  Memories of the newscasts came to mind. Bodies falling. Drones silently watching, recording. Some jumpers tried to latch onto the drones in an attempt to carry themselves down to freedom only to discover the drones couldn’t take their weight. By the time the rescuers sent in heavy duty drones, it was too little, too late. The fire suppression equipment had been found vandalised and had never been replaced. The government almost lost control at that point.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

  Jack passed a coffee to Edward before opening the patio doors and leading them outside. The garden was in need of some care. The modest square of grass needed cutting, and the weeds in the flower beds were competing with the plants and bushes.

  “Nice space,” Edward said, noting the trees at the back offering a barrier of privacy.

  “Tell me about this other case then. Booth—”

  “Maguire. We found him in an alley this morning. His eyes were missing.” Edward stared at Jack’s face, keen to catch the reaction.

  Jack’s frown deepened as he grabbed a chair and sat down, staring deep into the garden. “A remnant saboteur,” he said. “You must get enough of them.”

  “Plenty.”

  “They weren’t found?”

  “No. Nothing at the scene apart from his corpse. What do you think?”

  “Unusual. Saboteurs normally just burn the eyes or at least do enough damage to prevent a reading.” Jack smiled.

  “What’s funny?”

  “This whole business of destroying the eye to prevent a remnant recall.”

  Edward sipped his drink. “I’m not sure I see your point.”

 

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