The Reviver (17 page)

‘Look, Sam,’ he ventured, but Sam was ahead of him.

‘I’m sorry too, Never. I was feeling guilty, and I took it out on you. We’ve both done it, pandered to the boy.’ Sam frowned. ‘Shit, listen to me. Boy. Jonah’s a man now, and there’s my problem. I still treat him like a kid. I let him have his own way too often, and so do you.’

‘Yeah … we do.’

‘Look out for him, Never.’

‘I’ll do my best. But for the record?’

Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘I’m glad Jonah handled the Wood case rather than Jason Shepperton.’ He shrugged. ‘Can’t help it.’

Sam leaned over and lowered his voice. ‘You know what, Never? I am too.’

As Sam went back to his office, Never heard someone call his name from the office entrance. He looked over to see J. J. walking towards him.

J. J. had returned from Seattle the night before, after a two-week stint helping train new technicians at the West Coast offices. The timing of the trip had meant Never hadn’t seen him since the Decker revival, for which J. J. had been the technician. That morning, things had been rushed, and there had barely been time for J. J. to give Never a summary of how his Seattle trip had gone before he’d had to go out for an onsite revival.

‘Hi, J. J.,’ said Never. ‘How did the onsite go?’

J. J. shrugged. ‘By the numbers. Nothing interesting.’ He paused. ‘Hey, Never, maybe this can wait until later, but…’

‘Go ahead.’

‘When I got back in I went through my emails. I got to the one from you, about the Decker revival.’

‘Oh, that. I was just thinking we should make it standard practice to leave the recording going until we take the equipment down. We can set it up so the police copy can be taken without stopping everything. I wasn’t criticizing, just thinking it’d be sensible.’

J. J. nodded. ‘Thing is, your message reminded me. There was an outage after the revival. I should’ve told you about it before I left, but things were hectic. Sorry.’

‘Outage?’ The suggestion made Never’s pride bristle – it was his system, designed with enough redundancy to cover most eventualities short of a nearby nuclear explosion.

‘Yeah. And I didn’t even see it until I went to pack up the gear. There was no notification.’

‘The power to a camera died? And it didn’t warn you?’

J. J. shook his head. ‘Not one. All three.’

For a moment Never thought he’d misheard. That kind of thing simply didn’t happen. ‘Did you see them go?’

‘No. I was chatting to the guys and ripping their copy. Didn’t notice it. You know how it is, the revival was over, recording had stopped.’

‘It should have chimed a warning.’

‘I know, but it didn’t.’

‘So all the backup batteries failed
and
the warning system’s broken?’ Hardware failure happened often enough, Never knew, but for it all to go at once … Then, suddenly, he made a connection and felt ice in his veins.

‘That’s the thing. When I went in to take them down, I noticed the power was out on the main-shot camera. Then I saw the other two were gone as well. I went to power-cycle the wide-shot camera, but before I touched it, all three came back up on their own. I checked it out when I got back and I couldn’t find anything wrong, not with
any
of it. Couldn’t work it out.’

Silent, Never realized that his skin was goosebumping.

J. J. spoke again: ‘While I was away, I was thinking – there was plenty of static from the carpets in that office. I noticed when I was setting up.’ He leaned in, whispering, ‘I think we may have a static problem. We need to do some testing.’

‘Right, yes. Static.’ He suppressed a shiver. ‘Look, J. J., do me a favour and don’t say anything about this. Not until we know. I mean, we’ve not had trouble before, but some of the kit configuration is only a few months old.’ They’d switched to a different brand for the backup power units six months before.
Maybe that’s it,
he thought, unconvinced.

‘I wasn’t going to. I’ll write up a test plan.’

‘Thanks, J. J. Good work. We’ll get the testing done next week, OK?’

When J. J. left, Never found himself thinking of static and the camera power dropping. He thought of Alice Decker’s face in the footage he’d watched. He thought of Jonah, looking up after the revival had ended, seeing that face rise, malign and leering. This time, the shiver came.

*   *   *

By the time the day’s work ended, Sam was nowhere to be seen. Without a victim to impose a grand emotional farewell on – which Never presumed was exactly why Sam had disappeared – the office dispersed, everyone heading off to get ready for the evening’s event in the venue room of a nearby sports bar. The farewell would wait until then.

Rather than have to go all the way home and then all the way back again, Never had worn what he considered his best clothes to work. Nobody had noticed the difference.

He walked to Jonah’s apartment. Since getting the good news from Stephanie Graves, Jonah had seemed upbeat enough to stop Never worrying as much as he had been, but not completely.

‘Thought I’d pop in,’ he said as Jonah opened the door. ‘Then we can go together. Share a cab.’

Jonah smiled. ‘So you could make sure I didn’t decide to stay home?’

‘Oh, I know you wouldn’t have stayed home,’ said Never, sitting on the sofa beside a snoozing Marmite. He tickled the cat’s neck. ‘You’d have turned up as late as you thought you could get away with.’

‘What can I say. My cat would miss me.’

‘So this is what you spend your time off doing, huh? Pampering your cat?’

‘Yep. That and thinking.’

‘Sounds ominous,’ said Never. ‘What about?’

‘My life.’

‘That
is
ominous. Come to any conclusions yet?’

‘Graves told me it was all in my head, Never. And I want to believe it. I want to, more than anything. But I started to wonder if that was because it’s all I can do, you know? This job is all I am. If I can’t think Decker was in my head, where does that leave me? If I believe what I saw, it would mean something’s
out
there.’

Jonah’s head fell. Thinking of what J. J. had said, Never was relieved that Jonah wasn’t looking at him; his eyes might have given away the unease he felt. He scolded himself for being so stupid – this was the kind of superstitious idiocy he derided in others. Letting Jonah see he had any doubt was the worst thing he could do for his friend.

‘Come on, Jonah. Graves was right, and you
know
it. This is what you want to do, because you’re
good
at it. Christ, think about Nikki Wood – you’ve handled dozens of cases like that. You make a real difference.’

Jonah looked up at him. ‘Maybe that’s the problem. If I can’t walk away, not even from one case, when I know it’s for my own good … I’ll let the workload grow again. Graves suggested I go private. Maybe then I’d be able to let go of it. Lose the urgency. It’d let me recover. I said no, but I’m starting to think leaving the FRS might be the only way. I’ll be back at work next week. I guess I’ll find out how I feel then.’

In the silence that followed, Never watched him, sizing up how much Jonah meant what he said, and not liking what he saw. ‘Shit, mate,’ he said at last, trying to shake the moment off. ‘Maybe. If it’s what you decide. But that’s for another time, OK? If we try hard, I think we may still have fun tonight. If that’s fine by the moggie.’

‘OK,’ said Jonah, defeated. ‘Give me a minute to change.’

*   *   *

They were on to their second drink of the evening by the time Hugo Adler called for quiet. Sam was in torment, standing at the front as uncomfortable as Never Geary could recall seeing him; his face was reddening with every moment, as more and more people drew close and aimed their attention his way.

It got redder still as Hugo gave him his send-off speech, which ended with heartfelt applause. As it grew, Sam’s eyes started watering. Then came the farewell gifts.

First, a small selection of impressive wines. Nothing ridiculous, just half a dozen that were expensive enough to put Sam off removing the cork.

‘We asked Helen,’ said Hugo, as Sam looked at each bottle in turn. ‘She told us you were always saying you’d start a wine cellar, if only you could resist drinking what you buy. So we got you some bottles you’ll think it’s a shame to open.’

‘I’m not sure that isn’t a form of torture,’ Never whispered to Jonah, but judging from Sam’s smile the gift seemed a good one.

Second, a more personal memento: a framed photograph of the original FRS team moving in to the Richmond offices: Sam looking trim and Never grinning out of the middle row; Jonah there too, joining them as the expansion began, scarily young.

Sam took a moment to look closely. Calls for a speech made him wince, but he nodded, wet-eyed. ‘There’s not much I can say that you don’t already know. It’s been a privilege. I’m proud of you, and I’ll miss you. And now, I have one last order as your boss. Enjoy yourselves!’

*   *   *

Every conversation that night seemed to turn to FRS nostalgia, leading back to Sam, in the end. It was no wonder, Jonah thought. Sam had founded it, tended it; the FRS was his child in many ways, and Sam had been a father figure to many of his staff over the years. None more so than Jonah, orphaned by his mother’s death and befriended by this principled man, a man who was fighting for honour and justice. A man who Jonah wanted to make proud.

Sam was sitting at a table on the far end of the room, with his wife, Helen, on one side, and Robert Thorne, the Chicago-based FRS director, on the other. In theory, Robert Thorne had shown Sam significant respect by coming, but he was a humourless bureaucrat and Sam’s expression spoke volumes.

‘Thorne has him trapped,’ said Jonah.

‘Probably making him feel guilty about the cost of the evening,’ Never said. ‘Look at Sam’s face. Every time Thorne speaks, you can see a flinch…’

They watched as Sam spoke to Helen and shook hands with someone who’d approached his table. Then Thorne spoke up. The flinch was visible, even at a distance.

‘Let’s give him some respite,’ said Jonah.

‘Good idea,’ said Never. ‘He’s nearer the bar too.’

They lifted their drinks and walked over.

‘Excuse me,’ said Never. ‘Sorry, Mr Thorne – Sam, could we have a word?’

Sam smiled at them, then looked to Thorne. ‘Do you mind, Robert?’ Thorne’s cold expression showed that he did, but he pulled out a practised smile and shook his head.

‘Not at all, Sam, this is your night. I shouldn’t be taking your time up with work.’ Thorne laughed, a sound so artificial it made Jonah’s skin crawl. Cecily Hunter, the North East FRS head, was sitting to Thorne’s left. She watched Sam go with a hint of despair as Thorne started talking to her instead.

‘Did you really want anything or was that a rescue?’ Sam asked when they were out of Thorne’s earshot.

‘Rescue,’ said Jonah.

‘And we’re taking you to the bar,’ said Never. ‘Urgent requirement to get you drunk, Sam.’

‘I could do with another after fifteen minutes of budget trivia. I wasn’t sure if he was punishing me for leaving or trying to make me glad to be gone. No more of him, thank God.’

‘He’ll probably pester you at home,’ said Jonah.

Sam laughed. ‘Helen and I are heading to the Florida Keys for the next week and do you know what? I’ve got a terrible feeling I haven’t left my contact details. Hugo will have to take that bullet for me.’

As Never approached the bar, Sam held Jonah back. ‘I didn’t get a chance to talk earlier, Jonah. Are you feeling any better?’

Jonah smiled, surprised that it didn’t feel artificial. He knew a big part of it was the thought of leaving the FRS. Even the possibility gave him room to breathe, whatever he decided in the end. But there was no need to tell Sam. ‘I’m getting there.’

‘I was starting to blame myself for the whole thing. It was my fault we let you get so overworked. Stephanie Graves emailed me, and she wasn’t kind about how we’ve been treating you.’

‘Don’t worry about me, Sam. How are
you
coping?’

‘If I’m honest, I’ve been dreading today. But right now … I’m pretty happy about it. I’m amazed how many old faces are showing up. Real blasts from the past. So now I just have to fend off Thorne for the rest of the evening, and try not to think how much all this is costing.’

As Sam and Jonah reached the bar, they became aware that Never was watching something behind them, mouth gaping. Jonah stared at him, bemused.

Sam glanced behind. ‘Hell,’ he said, a laugh in his voice. ‘What was I saying about old faces?’

Jonah turned and he saw her, walking into the middle of the room, drawing all male eyes from around her and many female too. Tall, perfect curves, shoulder-length auburn hair, she was wearing a light dress that gave her an ethereal quality as she walked.

Waving at her, Sam smiled. The woman waved back and headed towards them.

‘You know her?’ said Never, seeing the recognition on Jonah’s face. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

‘Oh yeah, that’s her,’ replied Jonah. More than once he’d told Never about his old crush in Baseline. She waved and smiled again. He couldn’t help but smile back, a smile that broadened relentlessly until he felt he must look like an idiot. He could tell Never was entertained, but he didn’t care.

Tess Neil. As a teenager, his yearning for her had been overwhelming, easily enough to overlook her faults. It had culminated in that single brief kiss the last time he’d seen her seven years before, when he was nineteen. She had been twenty-five then. If anything, she looked better than ever. He wanted to kiss her before she spoke, before she broke the spell.

He stepped towards her as she approached. They smiled at each other, five feet apart. Eventually, she stepped closer. In the growing noise of the venue room, she came near enough to be heard even though her voice was low, confidential.

‘Hi, Jonah,’ she said, her words like fingers stroking his brow. He felt exposed and vulnerable and he didn’t mind the feeling.

‘Hi, Tess,’ he said.

13

Tess Neil’s skill as a reviver was almost as high as Jonah Miller’s, ranked as a K4 to Jonah’s K3. Nine years ago, spending one week in six at the Baseline facility, he had dreamed of her, had lusted for her. He’d just turned seventeen, after all, and Tess was beautiful. He’d been doomed from the start.