Acolyte (14 page)

There was a flicker of movement on Mary's face. First, her upper lip twitched briefly; then her right cheek did the same.

‘She's almost here,' Jonah said.

‘Well done,' said Never, the surprise clear in his voice.

‘How long?' asked Jonah.

‘Fast, all things considered,' Never told him. ‘Twenty-nine minutes.'

Then they all fell silent, as the corpse of Mary Connart began
to take a very slow breath, the chest straining, the lungs filling with air. At last it stopped. Revival had been achieved.

‘Mary,' said Jonah. ‘Mary, my name is Jonah Miller. I'm a reviver. Can you hear me?'

The body of Mary Connart lay still for a moment, the lungs holding. Then Jonah felt a vibration in the hand, a rapid trembling that spread up the corpse's right arm to the shoulder. The wheels of the gurney the corpse lay on began to rattle in unison, the sound growing as the vibration grew increasingly violent.

The trembling reached the head. The jaw slackened wide then continued to push open, Jonah's eye on the patch he'd applied as it was stretched to its limit, the bottom of the jaw reaching the chest. He could see the tongue, quivering, pulsating, and all the while the movement grew.

He heard Bob whisper in horror to Never:
‘What is this?'

Fear
, thought Jonah. An initial response of uncontrolled movement was a rare manifestation of fear in the subject. An ongoing tremble in the muscles of the face, say. A regular twitch of the hand. The greater the fear, the more movement could be observed.

For it to be so extreme …

Dear God
, he thought,
Mary, what happened to you?

He turned his head to Bob, about to try and reassure him, but then he felt her, and the terror in her; it swamped him, greater by far than the emotional turmoil of the surge. The air from her lungs at last began to leave, her vocal cords working well enough to produce a low, rasping cry.

Then Mary Connart screamed.

The moment she stopped, the lungs began to fill with air again, the vibrational movement continuing. Another scream would follow if Jonah didn't get her attention.

‘Mary,' he said. ‘Talk to me. I want to help you. Please.'

He felt her become aware of him. There was a fractional decrease in the shaking.

‘Mary!'
he shouted.

Abruptly the trembling stopped. Then in the silence – slowly – the jaw closed. It was a few seconds before she spoke.

‘Where am I?'

The sound was harsh. He knew the words would be indistinct to the others listening, but they were clear in Jonah's mind. He typed them, and would easily be able to keep pace, however fast she went.

‘You're safe now,' he said. The first task: ensure she was aware of her own situation, of her own
death.
If possible, give her the space, and hope she already knew.

Silence, but he could tell it was a thoughtful silence. She was trying to remember.

‘I died. In the … in the
dark.
'

The last word had an edge to it, an edge of terror.

‘I'm a reviver, Mary. My name is Jonah Miller. I want to ask about what happened at the party. Do you remember the client party?'

A few seconds passed. Mary's jaw began to move slowly up and down, then it began to tremble again – but the vibration didn't spread, lasting only for a moment. Jonah didn't feel confident about how long this revival could last.

‘I left,' she said.

It was too early to risk her becoming lost in the actual attack, however much Jonah needed to know the truth. ‘Did anything happen at the party? Anything you want to tell us?'

‘It … I was tired. It was too hot, too loud. I'd spoken to the people I needed to, shown my face long enough. And a man …'

Jonah shifted in his seat, recognizing the level of importance Mary herself felt, and knowing this was critical. Mary's lungs were empty. He tensed as they filled, wary in case another bout of trembling set in. It didn't. He prompted: ‘A man, Mary. What man?'

‘I didn't know him. He didn't say who he was. I went to the restroom and when I came back he took my arm, half pulled me to somewhere quiet.' Her breaths came regularly, and with each one Jonah tensed. ‘He was drunk. Told me he needed to ask me something. But he was smiling, then. I thought he might be flirting. Then his smile left his face, just left it as if it hadn't existed. He started to ramble, wanted to know if I'd
told
anyone. He said I must have seen it.'

‘Seen what, Mary?'

‘I don't know what he meant. I told him so. He didn't believe me. He said someone's name. Winterton. Had I told anyone about Winterton? I didn't answer. Winterton's a firm in New York that was trying to headhunt me. I'd been talking about it earlier with a friend and this guy must have overheard. I said it was none of his business. He leaned close and snarled that it was
exactly
his business, that if I couldn't keep my mouth shut he'd shut it for me. I told him to go to hell. His eyes were so damn cold. I saw my friend, hurried to her. I was about to tell her about the creep but he'd already gone. She could see something was up and asked if I was OK but I brushed her off, told her that I was just tired, that I
was going. I crept out a back exit, didn't want him to see me go. I walked fast. I was stupid to walk home, but you do that. You try and act normal to show yourself it was nothing. I kept thinking he was following, but I couldn't see him. And then I—'

She stopped. Twenty seconds ticked by before Jonah spoke. ‘Mary?'

‘Ask her what route she took home,' said Bob. ‘See if we can establish that before we ask about the alley.'

‘Mary,' said Jonah, but he was cut off as Mary's emotions went crazy, a sudden rush of impossible terror. It filled Jonah, too, and he shot a panicked look to Never. He could see that Never understood something was wrong.

Mary's hand began to tremble again, more forcefully than before, the gurney wheels rattling hard as the vibration spread, the jaw of the corpse extending unnaturally wide, the tongue quivering. The whole upper torso shook, risking the body shifting in position, possibly falling.

Jonah stood from his chair and held Mary's shoulder with his left hand, trying to keep the body secure. The others hurried over, keeping a wary distance.

‘Can we do anything?' asked Never.

‘I don't know. Brace the body, maybe it'll pass again.' Stepping forward, Never leaned across the body's waist and held on, the look on his face one of bewilderment: after years of experience, he suddenly found himself uncertain how to proceed. Jonah felt exactly the same way. Bob and Ray held down her legs.

The lungs filled with air as the rapid shivering increased. Mary Connart screamed again, the vocal chords deteriorating audibly, the tone of her cry deepening, turning it into a guttural howl.

Jonah looked at Bob; the detective's face was grey, eyes horrorstruck. ‘If this doesn't stop,' said Jonah, ‘I'm going to have to let her go.'

The detective looked at him, then back to the body, but said nothing.

The lungs had emptied but the vibration didn't let up. Without a pause the lungs refilled and the screaming continued.

The terror within Mary Connart was absolute, flooding Jonah and leaving him barely able to think. He didn't understand what was happening but he couldn't see how he could do anything useful now.
‘I
have to, Bob
,
'
he called over the screaming.
‘I have to let her go.'
He wanted Bob's permission; years of training, years of routine, always needing the official in charge to give the go-ahead to end it. Bob was just staring at the body, lost.

‘Please, Bob. I have to let her go.'

Abruptly the screaming stopped. The body sagged.

Jonah held on to her as the others stood back. Mary was still present, but only just. The amount of effort expended in that fit of screaming had left her with almost nothing in reserve. She had only moments left.

‘Mary?' he said.

Her mouth moved, fractionally. With no air left in her lungs there was no sound, but Jonah could hear it in his mind. Hear what she told him, just before she faded completely.

‘The shadow
,
'
said Mary Connart.
‘The shadow has teeth.'

Jonah stood still, breathless and lost, staring at Mary Connart's face.

He let go of her hand and stepped back, bumping into the chair, pushing it away from himself with a shout of frustration and fear. The chair tipped on its castors and fell into one of the camera tripods, knocking it down.

He heard Never approach and right the tripod, then felt Never's hand on his shoulder. Nothing was said.

Teeth
, Jonah thought, looking at the rough surfaces of exposed bone on Mary's body. Her own fear, her own confusion, had been so extreme. Her words meant nothing, surely.

He shuddered.

He turned to Bob. ‘I'm sorry,' said Jonah. He felt desolate and realized he was close to tears. ‘I don't know what happened. She was terrified and confused. After everything you'd been hoping for … I'm sorry.'

Bob shook his head. He looked as stunned as Jonah felt. ‘Don't be. It's something. We have to trace the man she spoke about. What was it he said to her? Somebody's name?'

‘Winterton,' said Jonah. ‘A company that was trying to headhunt her.'

‘He clearly thought she knew something she shouldn't,' said Ray. ‘There was explicit threat in what he said to her.'

‘The encounter Mary had with the man didn't come up when
we spoke to any of her friends,' said Bob, looking to Ray for confirmation.

‘No,' said Ray. ‘One told us she'd seemed upset, but didn't know why. Somebody must have seen it, though. It was a big party. The client companies invited had been allowed to bring up to seven people each. The organizers don't know exactly who was present, and there could have been over two hundred guests in all. We've spoken to thirty at most. Our focus has been on those who were outside at the time, trying to find someone who witnessed her leave.'

‘Well,' said Bob, ‘this guy's our best lead so we've got a reason to look harder. Jonah, you said Mary was confused. Are you sure we can trust that part of her testimony?'

Jonah nodded. ‘Her memory of that was clear. She only became confused later.'
When she started to remember what had happened to her in that alley.

He stood to the side as Never took down the equipment. He remembered the envelope Bob had given him, the note from Mary's sister. Inadequate as the words were, he'd not even been able to offer Mary that comfort. There was a wastepaper bin in the corner of the room. He pulled the note from his pocket, crumpled it and dropped it in. Guilt was coursing through him. He couldn't pretend that what he'd done had been to Mary's benefit.

He looked at her, thinking about the rough screams that had poured from that corpse, now silent and motionless in the centre of the room.

Thinking about the words she'd whispered at the end, and one word in particular.

Shadow.

*

Jonah and Never made the drive back to Richmond in silence, Never only speaking as they pulled up outside Jonah's apartment building. ‘What the hell
was
that?'

Jonah shook his head. ‘She had a bad death. More than that I don't know.'

‘I've seen footage of shit like that, but you kind of hope you won't witness it. Are you going to be OK? I'm off for the rest of the day, if you want the company?'

‘I'm fine.'

‘Well you
look
terrible.'

‘It was a tough revival, that's all.'

‘There's something you're not telling me,' said Never, his eyes narrowing.

‘There's nothing,' said Jonah. ‘Really. I just wish we'd got more for them to work with. I'd hoped we'd find out what happened to her.'

Jonah went up to his apartment, knowing that Never didn't believe him. But it was the truth, wasn't it? He simply wanted to know what had happened, there was nothing else worth mentioning.

Shadow.

Well
, he thought,
there was that.

It wasn't just a desire not to worry Never with unjustified paranoia. It was a desire not to even think about it, to
fuel
it.

His head started to pound. It was probably a combination of the stress of the revival and a side effect of his medication. He knew he'd better eat something, but he was far from hungry. Marmite crawled out of a pile of unwashed laundry in the corner and sat by his dish, expectant. The fishy stench from the pouch Jonah opened almost made him gag, chasing away any thought of food.

‘How the hell you eat that shit is beyond me,' he said, ruffling the cat's fur as Marmite chowed down.

He remembered the email from Annabel and decided to have a closer look at what she'd sent.

The first attachment was a site plan for Winnerden Flats, the Nevada research facility that Andreas Biotech was renovating. Also
attached was a document detailing some of the widely varying investments that the company was engaging in. The sums were eye-watering, and the investment areas appeared almost random. Cryogenics was the only one that seemed to fit Andreas's old passions; the rest included specialists in communication infrastructure and processor fabrication, about as far from the company's biotech roots as it was possible to get. Annabel had commented to the same effect, saying that it reflected two things: first, that Andreas's business had huge sums of money to invest; second, that the company seemed to be diversifying so much that it smacked of flailing around – panicking almost, now that they lacked any real vision. Andreas Biotech had no grand plan. Not any more.