Body Harvest

by Malcolm Rose

  ‘You’re with me, remember,’ Lexi replied. ‘We’ll crack it.’

  ‘We’ve got plenty on the victims. But the culprit? That’s a dead horse I’ve been flogging. Going nowhere.’

  Lexi smiled. ‘Things don’t look good when your best suspect’s not even in the right country.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Yeah. I know. We don’t have total proof she’s …’

  Troy got to his feet. ‘I’m going to take a look at that interview with Sergio Treize.’

  ‘Why? What’s it going to tell you?’

  ‘Maybe nothing, but you never know. There’s something I want to check out.’

  Using a giant screen at maximum resolution, Troy put the video recording on fast-forward until he got to the part where he suggested that Charon Angel could be scouting for body parts. Then he ran the interview at normal speed.

  There was a convincing expression of shock on Sergio’s face as he exclaimed, ‘What?’

  Out of camera-shot, Troy’s detached voice said, ‘For medical transplants.’

  Sergio replied, ‘I find that hard to believe.’ Then he turned his head to the side and stroked his chin for a few seconds.

  ‘That’s it!’ Troy cried. He stopped the clip and ran it backwards in slow motion until he reached the frame he wanted. There, he froze the action. Stepping up to the screen, he said, ‘Look at his wrist.’

  Lexi shrugged. ‘It’s a watch. A traditional Swiss one.’

  ‘I’ll zoom in on it. See? Can you make it out? What time does it say?’

  ‘Er … A quarter past one or thereabouts.’

  Troy nodded. Jabbing his finger towards the digital clock in the corner of the large monitor, he said, ‘Thirteen sixteen.’

  For a moment, Lexi was silent but then she also jumped up. ‘The same time zone as us. Sergio Treize wasn’t in Switzerland! He’s local.’ She hesitated again before grabbing her mobile. ‘I’ll call Terabyte.’

  Troy scrutinized more images from the video call while Lexi reminded Terabyte about the interview with Sergio Treize. Then she asked, ‘Did the call definitely come from Switzerland?’

  She put his response on loudspeaker.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. I traced it and it was definitely Swiss. But …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I suppose …’ Terabyte went quiet for a moment. ‘It’s possible Switzerland wasn’t the source. If someone was being devious – really devious – they could’ve been anywhere in the world and relayed it through Switzerland. You’d need a lot of insider knowledge.’

  ‘The sort of knowledge a website administrator might have?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Thanks, Terabyte.’ She put her phone down and concentrated on the screen again. ‘You had a feeling he wasn’t in Switzerland, didn’t you?’ she said to Troy. ‘You were right. But, thinking about it, this is all about Sergio Treize. What’s it got to do with Charon Angel?’

  ‘Look at his sweatshirt. The image on it.’

  ‘Yeah. I think it’s … Let me check.’ Lexi tapped some keys on her computer, running image recognition software. ‘Yes, it’s a band sweatshirt. The group’s called Kaktus Changer – death metal from Iceland.’

  ‘And, according to Terabyte, what had Charon – Sharon Angie – been buying?’

  ‘Icelandic music.’

  Troy nodded. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘There was something else,’ said Lexi. ‘She bought car parts online and she lives in a place called Wengen. But, listen to this.’ She read from some tourist information on the Swiss village. ‘It has a tranquil atmosphere because it is a rare example of a European resort that is free of cars.’ She looked at her partner and said, ‘Why buy car parts when no one’s got a car? Don’t tell me. You think Sergio Treize, Charon Angel and Sharon Angie are all the same person – and they don’t live anywhere near Wengen.’

  ‘That’s not all. I reckon he’s Samaritan 999 as well. All these identities are a front – to hide his dodgy activities.’ Adjusting the onscreen display so it showed the close-up of Sergio’s hand again, Troy said, ‘Check out his middle finger.’

  Lexi squinted at the image. ‘Can’t you sharpen it up a bit?’

  ‘No. It’s at its limit. Any closer and all you’ll get are pixels.’

  She sighed. ‘Well, there’s a slight mark. It runs round the whole finger, I think.’

  ‘And the skin colour’s a bit lighter.’

  ‘So,’ Lexi deduced, ‘he normally wears a ring – which stops the sun tanning him just there. He’s not wearing it now, though.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘How should I know?’ said Lexi.

  ‘I don’t either. But if it had sapphires in it and one of the stones dropped out …’

  ‘I was with you all the way there – till you started daydreaming. Are you going to claim you can tell his shoe size by looking at his hands?’

  ‘No. But,’ Troy said with a wry expression, ‘that sweatshirt would go really nicely with Adibok trainers.’

  Lexi laughed.

  ‘We need Terabyte again,’ Troy said. ‘Can you talk nicely to him? Maybe he can trace where Sergio Treize really is if I keep him on a video call for long enough.’ Half an hour later, Troy settled himself in front of his computer. On his left, Terabyte was seated at a linked workstation. Lexi was on the other side. Both of them were out of range of the camera. ‘Okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m networked,’ Terabyte told him. ‘Ready when you are.’

  Lexi nodded. She intended to listen for background noises and study the images for any hints of location.

  ‘Okay. Let’s push this boat out.’

  Lexi looked across at Terabyte, raised her eyebrows and shrugged. She took the headphones from around her neck and positioned them over her head and onto her ears.

  Troy soon established a connection to his main suspect. This time, Sergio was wearing a different sweatshirt. Plain and white, it matched his spectacles. From somewhere, light reflected from his smoothly shaved head.

  ‘Sorry to bother you again,’ Troy began. ‘I just wanted to ask if you’ve been monitoring Charon Angel, like we agreed.’

  ‘I don’t remember an agreement but, yes, as a favour, I’ve checked her out now and again. All perfectly innocent.’ He leaned to one side, apparently scrolling down a list. ‘Here’s an example. She was posting stuff on Wednesday to someone who’s serious about suicide. “If you go ahead, your absence will change the way things are supposed to be. It’s a shame to deny the world your contribution.” No one’s going to say that’s urging a visitor to die, are they?’

  ‘No. That’s … good. Helpful. I’m still worried about your site, though.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It’s a place where vulnerable people meet. Virtually meet. Maybe they don’t have the strength or the nerve or whatever you need to pull the plug alone but, when they get together, maybe they pluck up enough courage from each other.’ Troy noticed a flicker of annoyance in Sergio’s face. That suited him. ‘Why did you set the site up in the first place?’

  ‘To get people together so they could pluck up the courage to live.’

  ‘But not all of them do.’ Troy was trying to provoke Sergio enough to keep him talking – justifying his chat room – but not anger him so much that he terminated the connection. ‘Some of your visitors are exchanging how-to-die information.’

  ‘For a determined few, it’s the only way forward. My site eases their passage.’

  ‘It’s a fine line between easing and encouraging.’ His head twitched. ‘Look. I believe we all have the right to die. The law in your country is stupid. It tells you you’re responsible for your body and actions, if you’re over ten and sane. So, if you do something illegal, you get punished. Right. Got that. I’m responsible for my body and what I do with it. Surely that means, if I get really ill and nothing will fix me, I can choose to bow out with a bit of dignit
y when the time’s right. I can choose assisted death. After all, it’s my body, my life, my responsibility. Right? Wrong, says the law. You’re not responsible for your body any more. The law is.’

  Troy was pleased to have tempted him into a lengthy passionate lecture. ‘It’s not against the law to kill yourself.’

  ‘No. But you can’t get anyone to help. You can’t legally take that decision. See what I’m getting at? The law’s sending out a mixed message. In your country anyway. I’m responsible for my actions until I’m desperately ill and suffering. Then I’m not responsible. Most of us get help coming into this world. Where’s the help when we choose to leave it? What’s so bad about opting for assisted dying?’

  ‘Because there’s always a reason for living. There’s always hope. But, even if I agreed with you, it’s still illegal.’

  ‘It’s different over here. I’m glad your law doesn’t apply to me. When I’m past it and life has lost its meaning, when it’s just useless existence and a drain on everyone else,’ Sergio said, ‘I’ll slip away peacefully with help and humanity.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Troy saw Terabyte fling his hair over his shoulder and mutter to himself. He then sat upright and, plainly frustrated, shook his head. Troy knew he had failed. Troy’s strategy had not worked. He said to Sergio, ‘That’s your choice, I guess. Nothing I can do about it from here. Thanks for your time.’ He ended the call.

  Lexi stripped off her headphones and, along with Troy, gazed at Terabyte.

  ‘The signal’s pinging all over the place, from country to country, satellite to satellite. If I sat here online for a week, I’d still probably not pin it down. Very nice piece of work. All I can say is, it came here from Switzerland. Before that … Who knows?’

  ‘Thanks for trying.’ Troy faced his partner and asked, ‘Did you pick up anything?’

  ‘There was a distant scream. Not a human one. Pretty sure it was a seagull. That’s your lot.’

  Troy exhaled. ‘I’m not sure that puts him near the coast. Don’t seagulls come inland quite a bit?’

  ‘I’ve seen a few around here,’ said Lexi, ‘but it’s asking a lot for them to reach Switzerland.’

  ‘This case isn’t hurtling towards a conclusion, is it?’

  Lexi thought about it for a while and then said, ‘There is another way … But it won’t be much fun.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well,’ Lexi replied, ‘he didn’t see me in either call. He doesn’t know what I look like. So …’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Troy muttered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you thinking the same as me?’

  ‘No idea. But if an extremely healthy outer girl – about sixteen, all organs functioning beautifully – jumped off Hurlstone cliff, our bad guy might not be able to resist a raid.’

  Troy nodded slowly. ‘Are you really volunteering to pose as a dead body? You could be trapped in a coffin for hours.’

  ‘The lid wouldn’t have to be nailed down – and I could be wired so I could speak to you.’

  ‘I’m glad you made the suggestion. I was thinking the same, but I sure wasn’t going to ask you to stay in a coffin all night in case he turns up.’

  ‘Lying down and keeping still doesn’t sound like a tough assignment. I’d meditate while you monitor the spy camera. You give me a wake-up call if he puts in an appearance. That’s quite important, Troy. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without a heart.’

  ‘I won’t let you down.’ Troy turned towards Terabyte. ‘Can you get the story out on the media and internet? Everywhere you can think of. “Hurlstone cliff claims the life of second girl this year. An unknown outer, sixteen years old, leapt to her death this evening.” That sort of thing. Make sure you mention the Hurlstone hall of rest.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Put seven o’clock in the report,’ Lexi suggested. ‘Then he’s got five hours if he wants my lungs or heart. After that decay will make them useless. Hey presto. All over by midnight.’

  ‘What if he wants liver or kidneys?’ Troy asked.

  ‘Then I’ve got a longer wait. Eight to fifteen hours. Might be a good idea to shut me in with some cricket tortillas, preferably topped with radish and orange. And run a tube from the nearest beer barrel.’

  SCENE 25

  Saturday 12th April, Night

  In a white funeral robe, Lexi walked right around her coffin and sighed. ‘It’s small, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s the biggest they’ve got,’ Troy said, ‘but, no, you’re not going to have a lot of room.’

  ‘No chance of inviting a few friends round.’

  ‘Are you sure …?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We could do it with an empty coffin. If he comes in and pulls back the lid … Maybe that’s enough.’

  ‘I’m not sure – and he might escape. If he attacks a dead body – me – on camera, we get proof and I’ll be so angry, he won’t stand a chance of getting away. That’s a watertight case.’

  ‘Unlike the coffin,’ Troy said with a smile.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The coffin’s not watertight – or airtight. I made sure of that when I asked for it.’

  ‘Very reassuring.’

  At seven thirty, Terabyte announced in their earpieces that the story about Lexi’s tragic leap half an hour earlier had gone live.

  ‘Okay?’ Troy asked.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said.

  ‘There’s no great hurry. Sergio’s got to pick up the story, decide if he wants any of your organs and then get here.’

  Outside, a seagull screeched loudly.

  ‘I think I’d better take up my position. Is my earpiece showing?’

  ‘No. You’re fine.’

  The hall of rest was illuminated dimly by lights sunk into the ceiling. The coffin had been placed on a plinth about fifty centimetres off the ground. Lexi put a small torch inside, roughly where her waist would be. To steady herself as she clambered in, she gripped Troy’s shoulder. Strangely, Troy felt flattered that she trusted him. Before the end of the night, she would have to rely on him much more. She wouldn’t have agreed to be the lure, Troy thought, if she didn’t have complete confidence in him.

  Troy moved to the foot of the coffin and took hold of the lid. Before he pushed it forward and over her body, he said, ‘All right?’

  She adjusted her funeral gown and nodded. ‘Do it.’

  The lid rumbled over her, cutting her off from the real world.

  There was a hidden microphone sewn into the inside of her robe. Her voice was a whisper in Troy’s earpiece but it was clear. ‘Can you see the light from my torch out there?’

  ‘No. It’s okay if you want it on.’ He walked out of the main hall and went into the small annex. There, he spoke quietly into the microphone attached to his sweatshirt. ‘Can you still hear me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Great. A dead body with a sense of humour.’

  ‘You must be hoping we’ve wrapped it up by midnight, mustn’t you?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Sunday’s your day for skiving off to a temple.’

  ‘Just this once, I imagine God’ll forgive me if I’m still ridding the world of bad guys.’

  The two spy cameras were working fine. One was trained on the entrance to the hall of rest. The other focused on the only coffin in the room. Troy had arranged with Spike Pennyworth that there would not be any corpses and none would be allowed to arrive in the night. The whole place was spookily quiet.

  After half an hour, concerned for his partner, Troy checked, ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘This lying down lark isn’t as easy as I thought. It’s hard to relax. Even with my eyes closed and the torch off, I can tell the lid’s a few centimetres from my nose. I guess this is what claustrophobia feels like. Pipe me some music, Troy. Maybe that’ll help.’

  ‘What sort?’

  ‘Anything apart from death metal. That wouldn’t be funny. There’s
a music app on my computer. Set it to play on random.’

  Troy sat and waited, his heart thumping. Despite the cool stillness, he would not fall asleep. His eyes darted from one screen to the other. First the coffin that held his partner and then the doorway. But nothing moved. Nothing stirred at all. Not a sound.

  He couldn’t imagine how awful it was for Lexi. She was pretending to be dead, confined to a horribly small space, waiting for a serial killer. She had her partner as a lookout but no other backup. If they’d ringed the place with police officers, the bad guy might well have spotted the trap and refused to take the bait.

  At eight thirty, Troy faded the stream of music. ‘Still with me?’

  ‘Yes. The music helps. Are you still awake?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Very funny,’ she whispered.

  ‘Just getting my own back.’

  ‘Any action yet?’

  ‘Not a sausage.’

  ‘You’re obsessed with them,’ Lexi said. ‘You’re not eating one now, are you?’

  ‘No. I’m concentrating.’

  ‘Good to hear that.’

  ‘Tell me straightaway if you want out,’ said Troy. ‘Remember the empty coffin option.’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Here’s your music again.’

  Ten minutes later, Troy turned down the music volume and whispered into the microphone. ‘Something’s just struck me. If he opens your coffin, won’t the warmth of your body give it away?’

  ‘Dead bodies stay warm for about eight hours. They go stiff after three or thereabouts. It’s breathing I’m bothered about. That’s something corpses just don’t do. I’m trying to calm down my metabolism. And slow my heartbeat. I can do it. It’s not a myth and I’m in a sort of life-threatening situation. It’s just super-meditation. Super-relaxation – or mini-hibernation.’

  ‘Don’t overdo it,’ Troy said. ‘You’ll have to act quickly if he turns up. Do you still want me to talk to you every half hour?’

  ‘Yes. It tells me you’re awake.’

  Troy chuckled. ‘So, it’s you checking up on me?’

  ‘Too right.’

  ‘Not the other way round?’

  ‘Huh,’ was her only reply.

  Troy took a deep breath. His mood kept changing. Sometimes, the atmosphere seemed so serene that he could never imagine anything bad happening. At other times, the dark and the stillness were so creepy that he could imagine all too easily that something terrible was bound to take place at any moment. He felt unsettled and tense. And he was far from certain that they were doing the right thing.