Minions (10 page)

Devlin woke not to an alarm, daylight streaming through
the glass wall, or a wakeup call from Ikel as planned, but to the unfamiliar
sound of his phone indicating the receipt of a message.  It was a little after
4am and he considered ignoring it until at least daylight but curiosity got the
better of him.  It was close to a full moon outside and the moonlight was more
than adequate for him to find his phone in his trousers on the floor without
having to turn on a light.  He grabbed the phone and returned to bed.  His new
phone was substantially better than the cheap one that had been stolen and it
took him a moment to familiarise himself with its menu system until he worked
out how to access the new message.  Same brand, same menu structure, but just
the buttons were different.  He read the message.

Leon Newman is as good as dead.

This was not what he expected or wanted to read as he woke. 
He hoped that the dyslexia of his youth had returned or that he’d otherwise
misread it, but there was no mistake.  He racked his brain to recall if Leon
Newman registered any memory.  He could not recall anyone by that name and comforted
himself that he’d received someone else’s message.  Rubbing the sleep from his
eyes, he remembered the message that he’d received the previous day but all but
forgotten it amid the enthusiasm of getting started.  Now he quickly navigated
the menu of the phone to re-read yesterday’s message a second time. 

Casey Lawrence is now dead.

Devlin suddenly felt the need to be more awake and turned
on the bedside light.  Again, he couldn’t think of anyone he knew by that name,
no matter how distantly, but now he also felt that it was unlikely the messages
had been misdirected.  They were clearly similar and clearly intended for him. 
That they were sent to his phone number and not technically to him was a moot
point. 

He also discovered that each message had been sent from
the same number; his own stolen phone.  The likelihood that he’d received these
messages by accident or coincidence was suddenly decidedly remote, particularly
as he expected only a few people would know his new, unlisted, number.

Devlin rang his old number, figuring he’d be able to
quickly separate truth from conjecture by just speaking to the guy who’d stolen
his phone.  As he listened to the ringing tone, he thought of what to say, but
he never got the chance as his call went unanswered to voicemail.  He listened
to his own voicemail recording but opted to hang-up rather than leave a message. 
As soon as he ended the call, he received another message.

Carson Sullivan is now dead.

Devlin settled himself and composed a message in reply. 
He wasn’t concerned about tone or how his question would be received, only that
it would be received. 

Who are they?

Devlin sent his message and waited.  A reply came almost
immediately.

Readers.

Devlin was shaken.  An odd
thought then struck him and he fumbled for the contacts list in his phone.  His
was the first name in the list and from this he gathered that each of the
numbers were in a formal, ‘Surname, First Name’ format.  He scrolled through
the names recognising Ikel and Lori only because their particular entries
appeared to be in a ‘Surname, First Name (Nickname)’ format.  But these were
not the names he was looking for. 

When Devlin reached ‘Kendrick, Derrell’ he paused, if only
to recall his alphabet.  ‘Kopac, Morris (Hotel Manager)’ followed, teasing
Devlin and making him wonder how many names there could possibly be between
‘Kendrick’ and ‘Lawrence’.  He needn’t have worried; the next name in the list
was ‘Lawrence, Casey’.  He expected the name, but it still came as a shock.  He
continued scrolling through the names, passing ‘Newman, Leon’ and inevitably,
‘Sullivan, Carson’. 

Devlin put down the phone and thought a thousand thoughts,
but he only said one word.  “Fuck.”  With his head in his hands, he considered
his options.  He needed to talk them through, but it was still a few hours
until dawn.  Initially he thought he’d be able to wait to speak to someone, but
even a few restless minutes alone proved difficult.  He tried watching
television and doing push-ups, but nothing was an adequate distraction.  There
was nothing on TV and his personal fitness was inadequate to sustain more than
a minute of exercise.  He considered a shower that he knew would clear his
head, until he heard the now familiar sound of the receipt of another message.

Don’t join them.  Be sure you understand the greater good.

Devlin abandoned social niceties.  He quickly dressed and
headed for Ikel’s room. 

Ikel was slow to answer the door, but Devlin was
persistent.  Banging on his door, he eventually convinced Ikel that he really
needed to talk, and no, it couldn’t wait until morning.  Ikel reluctantly
opened his door before returning to bed.  Devlin made himself at home in Ikel’s
room, turning on lights before sitting on the foot of his bed.

“Ikel.  Who’s Casey Sullivan?” Devlin opened with the
first of at least three pressing questions.  On seeing that Ikel had fallen
asleep again with his head under a pillow, Devlin looked around for his phone. 
“I just want to check your phone,” he announced as a matter of courtesy,
irrespective of whether Ikel was coherent enough to listen.  Subconsciously,
Devlin wasn’t sure whether he wanted Ikel’s phone purely to verify that it
contained the same numbers as his own, or to deny Ikel the ability to claim
that he never knew Casey. 

Devlin searched Ikel’s room for his phone without regard
to the obvious breach of privacy of a person he’d only just met.  Ikel’s room
was a mirror image of his own, otherwise it was identical except that it had a
definite ‘lived in’ feel.  The room was full of clothing and personal effects,
but it felt more like an adolescent’s room than a bachelor pad.  He found the
phone still in Ikel’s discarded jeans from the day before. 

Devlin braced himself for the worst and took a long breath
as he prepared for what might be revealed with Ikel’s phone, but it had been
turned off for the evening.  He switched on the phone and immediately navigated
to the contacts list, finding what appeared to be the same list of names and
numbers as his own.

Still in Devlin’s hands, Ikel’s phone then vibrated to
indicate the receipt of three messages in rapid succession.  Devlin’s first reaction
was to read the messages, but even in his stressed state he accepted that
reading Ikel’s messages would be, without question, a breach of privacy.  While
there were some social conventions that were still reasonable and binding,
Devlin decided that others were decidedly less applicable under the
circumstances.  By comparison, the unwritten rule about not waking a new
acquaintance, come friend, pre-dawn was more of a guideline.

“Ikel.  Wake up!” Devlin removed Ikel’s bedclothes and
pillow and shook him ruthlessly.  “You’ve just got a few messages and I need
you to compare them to mine.”

“Fuck off!” Ikel replied eloquently, clearly reluctant to
waking.  He rolled over, dragging his bottom sheet over himself.

“Please.  I’ve got some messages that have me a little
spooked,” Devlin pleaded as he considered emptying a glass of water over Ikel’s
head.  He then suggested a path of least resistance, “or can I read your
messages?”

“Casey, Carson and Leon.  Dead or not, there’s nothing you
can do for them.  Now turn the ‘ken phone off and let me get back to sleep!”

“So you’ve read the messages already?  What about
these
messages?  Wake up!”  There was no chance that Ikel was going to be allowed to
go back to sleep now.  With persistence, Devlin
encouraged
Ikel to sit
up. 

“We all used to get the same messages,” Ikel began,
yawning.  “Sometimes the message text was different, but generally the same. 
Leon, Carson, Casey.  Sometimes others.  Generally they come at night, but that
might be more because the phones don’t work in the bunker.  That’s why I switch
off mine at night.”  Rubbing his eyes, he added, “I’m assuming that you’ve got
some messages too.”

“Yep, I’ve got them,” Devlin sighed.  “Actually, I got the
first one not long after I agreed to come on board.”

“Yup,” said Ikel. 

“You don’t think it’s a little odd that the messages start
when I joined you and Glen and co?”

“Not really.  If I remember correctly it was the same with
me.”

“What about the fact that the guy that nicked my phone
yesterday,
before
I joined LastGasp’, is the one who’s sending them?”
Devlin said, certain that this would be of interest.

“Are you sure?”

“My phone got stolen.  I’m sure of that.  And now I’m
getting messages from the stolen phone’s number,” Devlin replied cynically.

“It’s easy to send a text message setting any sender
number you like, if you know how,” Ikel replied.  “It doesn’t mean the guy that
took your phone is the one sending them.”

Devlin understood what Ikel was saying and he felt his
anxiety subside a little, but it didn’t answer all of his questions.  “So who’s
sending them?  Who sends your messages, or who
allegedly
sends them?”

“Who’s to say it’s not different people?  I’ve got my
theories.”

“You’re not interested in finding out?  You’re not
curious?”

“Curious?  Yes.  But I’m also tired,” Ikel yawned.

“I don’t mean
now
!  But haven’t you checked?”

“Yes and no.  I don’t really care.”

“But why me?  Why do
you
receive them?  And
incidentally, who are they, Leon, Carson and Casey?”

“Dunno.  Don’t care.  Ask Glen if you like,” Ikel replied
with disinterest.  “I asked him ages ago, but he wasn’t worried.  He said they
used to work with him, but they moved on.  Maybe he’ll give you a better
answer.”

“You could’ve told me!” Devlin sniped.  He considered that
there was little else to be done at this hour, and the thought had a calming
effect.  “Ok then.  Go back to sleep and we’ll hook up later for breakfast.”

“I’m awake now, so we might as well have an early one,”
Ikel reluctantly suggested.  “I’ll even lend you some clothes.  Lori said you
didn’t have any more.”

                                                                                                                                                        
Chapter - 19.
               
 

Angie was happy to see Malcolm when he visited her in the
hospital ward.  She felt terrible as a result of the anti-retroviral medication
that she’d been given following what had been written up as just a ‘regular’
needle-stick assault, but seeing him grounded her and made her smile just the
same.  He obviously didn’t come to talk, or stay, but the fact that he even
came at all meant a lot.  It was just like him really, she reasoned.  Malcolm
had appeared in her life not long ago, and she’d become used to the way that he
seemed to just want to co-exist.  More than once, he’d been in the right place
at the right time when Nebojsa had made another of his visits, and just Malcolm
being there seemed to prevent the guy from inflicting his usual sordid misery. 

Nebojsa had gradually scared off all of her friends and
potential mates.  However, Malcolm was not so easily perturbed, even though he
lacked the physical presence that would be necessary if he ever came face to
face with Nebojsa when he was in one of his moods.  Angie felt that this day
would come, but she selfishly resisted the urge to warn Malcolm away, opting
instead to offer
anything
to encourage him to stay.  Malcolm wasn’t
interested in any kind of relationship, or even a physical friendship, but he
liked having a room to call his own when he needed it. 

“Feeling better?” Malcolm asked as he sat himself by her
bedside. 

“He sends his best wishes.  He asked after you by name.” 
Angie tried a little dark humour, but then regretted it.  She knew that Malcolm
would understand but she was in no mood for his preaching.  He meant well, but
he seemed to be incapable of believing her when she’d said she’d tried
everything.  She’d moved countless times, even interstate, but Nebojsa had
enough contacts to track her down, and his ‘business interests’ seemed to give
him the ways and means to travel to
visit
her wherever she’d attempted
to put down some roots.  She’d gone to the Police as a matter of routine, but
their interest had waned considerably after she’d retracted her complaints the
first dozen or so times.  Of course the fact that Nebojsa was so well connected
and Angie wasn’t, made the accusations appear all the more vexatious. 

Malcolm reached for her hand.  “Just a little longer,
Angie.”

                                                                                                                                                        
Chapter - 20.
               
 

Devlin was well into his second plate of food before Ikel
joined him.  They both ate socially but quietly, not unlike a couple
comfortable enough with each other to not
need
to talk.  He was
beginning to relax, and he no longer felt the compulsion to be guarded in
everything that he said.

“So what’s on today?” Devlin asked.

“We’ll go to work, and we’ll take it from there,” Ikel
replied.  “We’ll read a lot of messages, sure, but no two days are the same. 
Hopefully we’ll get a chance to get out of the office for a bit.  Glen will probably
want you to stay with me.”

 Devlin received another text message on his phone.  Ikel
had explained away his immediate concerns but still he couldn’t bring himself
to read the message.  Noting Devlin’s apprehension, Ikel grabbed Devlin’s phone
and read it for him.

“Relax.  It’s from Glen.  He wants you there by seven.”

“Are we going to chase up Lori?” Devlin asked.