The Murderer's Memories
Page 23
“I knew who you were when you let me go. I recognized you from your pictures in the news. You’re not a hard man to find. I wanted to thank you for what you did for me, but when you finally got back to your place, I saw that Fergus was following you. So I wanted to thank you but I also wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m surprised Fergus let you live after what you did for me.”
Cole looked around the bar. Since he’d stopped playing the piano, everyone else had stopped paying attention to him. “I don’t think letting me live was part of his plan.” Bernard gave Cole a look, making it clear that he didn’t understand. “It’s a longer story than either of us has time for,” Cole said to Bernard.
“Fair enough,” Bernard said. Then he stood. “Anyway, I have myself some running to do, so I should really be going.” He extended his hand toward Cole. “Thank you for giving me my life back.”
Cole didn’t take Bernard’s hand. “Where are you going? What will you do?”
“Let’s just say I have a bit of living left to do before I’ll be ready to hand my memories over to the highest bidder and leave it at that.” Bernard paused for a moment. “You’re going to have to run now too, aren’t you?” he asked. “Do you need help? Money? Strategy? I’ve been running for a long time. I know how to do it. I can help you. I owe you that much.”
Cole shook his head. Fergus was the least of his problems. Bernard couldn’t know that Cole could only run for so long from what else was chasing him. “I’m more of the fighting type than the running type. If you want to help me, stop running. Stay here. Help me bring down the Company. I backed off because I was afraid they would try to kill me. Now that they’ve tried, I’ve got nothing more to lose. You can help bring them down. Then you’d be free too.”
Bernard laughed. “I don’t want to try to bring them down. I owe everything to the Company. I’d have to be one selfish prick to take them for everything I’ve got and then shut them down for everybody else.”
“But they’re trying to kill you,” Cole said, dumbfounded.
Bernard shrugged. “It’s part of the deal.”
“Then why are you running?”
“I always figured that running was also part of the deal. That doesn’t mean I want to shut them down. Do you have any idea what people are willing to pay for my memories? Millions of dollars. I’ve got millions of dollars of memories in my head, and I got to actually live them. These wankers that Fergus is trying to sell them to would only get to pretend they were me.” Bernard paused. Cole could feel how pregnant the pause was. “Besides, I’ve got a few memories now that I don’t want anyone else to have. So, thanks again for your help. If you want to run, I’d be happy to pay you back. If you want to fight, you’re on your own.”
Bernard extended his hand again. This time, Cole shook it. He could feel the bad memories pressing in on him again. “I’m going to fight,” Cole said before letting go of Bernard’s hand. “Real life, real struggle is worth fighting for.” The bad memories were coming faster now. Again, he felt the cold fingers reaching out to grab him. He had to push them back down before it was too late. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to the piano.”
“You are an odd bird, Mr. Memory Detective. I’ve got million-dollar memories, but I’m not going to forget you anytime soon.” With that, Bernard turned and walked toward the door.
Cole turned back to the piano. “Come on, Ivan,” he whispered to himself, “show me what else you got. Show me what I’m fighting for.” Then he placed his fingers on the old, chipped piano keys and started to play. As Cole played, Ivan’s memories flooded through him, once again beating back the despair, for now.
Chapter 35
THREE DAYS AFTER STOPPING THE SECOND BOMBING
Bernard stepped off of the boat and onto the pier. He had been traveling for a long time, knowing that Fergus’s henchmen would still be after him. Even if they didn’t want his memories anymore, even if enough had happened to damage their marketability, Fergus wouldn’t just let Bernard walk away. That would be bad for business. Fergus would surely want to make an example of him. So Bernard had taken certain measures to make sure that he wouldn’t be followed or tracked. His trip took him across three continents. Some of his travels were documented. Others were not. He traveled without a cellphone. He still had a good deal of money that he’d saved up over time, skimming from his Company accounts. He’d moved a large amount into secure bank accounts, but also carried more cash than was probably advisable. In many of the places that Bernard traveled through, cash was better than a passport.
The purpose of all of the running and intrigue was to get Bernard here, to this place and this moment. The sun was shining overhead, creating brilliant flashes of light across the churning water. Bernard carried a duffel bag containing all of his worldly possessions. He was dressed in shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers. The shorts and T-shirt were old and a bit dirty. The shoes were relatively new. Bernard always tried to wear a good pair of sneakers, having spent the last few years constantly preparing to run. Now, if everything worked as he planned, he would be able to stop running. And if his plan didn’t work, he was prepared to deal with the consequences. He knew where the bullet needed to go to ensure that nobody would be able to inherit his memories.
Bernard stared down the pier. He had told her not to meet him here, not out in the open like this, but to wait farther in where she would be less conspicuous. Bernard started walking along the pier. He felt light. Cole had given him a second chance, a chance he never thought he’d have as the Company homed in on him. For a while, they had seemed able to anticipate his every move. When they finally caught him, he learned some of their techniques. He understood better how they tracked him. He hoped he could use what he had learned to simply lie low and live an ordinary, common life.
The other lesson that Bernard had learned was that certain memories simply won’t go away. He had tried meditating them away, tried burying them in other memories. He had plenty of memories that he would have no problems sharing with old rich men who never got to have any adventures of their own. They could have those. He’d be happy to give those up. Every time his pursuers were about to catch him, he tried to focus on those memories, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his other memories to disappear and he wasn’t about to share them with the highest bidder. Those were his memories, memories that had nothing to do with the Company or their money.
Bernard started walking down the pier, feeling like he was walking into a new life. All those memories that he had tried to forget came rushing back to him now and he did nothing to fight them. They were intense and frightening, and nothing he had done with the Company’s money could compare to them. He had broken Company policy. He couldn’t imagine he was the first, but a decade of a nearly unlimited supply of money can do a lot to keep people in line. He also hid his transgressions well. As far as he knew, the Company still knew nothing about what he’d done. Bernard knew there were good reasons for the policy. People paid for memories of grand escapades full of sex and drugs and adventure. They didn’t pay for memories of falling in love, even though those were the most powerful of all. Bernard understood why. Those memories were full of contradiction and fear and vulnerability. People didn’t want to spend millions of dollars to remember feeling weak and unsure.
Bernard saw her from a good distance away. She was standing in the corner, her brown skin in sharp contrast to the white walls of the ferry terminal. She had already seen him, probably as soon as he’d walked off the ferry. She was smiling at him. He had to hold himself back to keep from running to her. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself but he ached to rush to her. Instead, he simply walked a little faster and watched her as he approached. This moment, he thought, will be a memory I never forget. Memories that he had spent a year trying to repress were all trying to fly back to him now, memories of first touches, of first smells, of first after first after first. He pushed them back again. He wasn’t trying to get rid of t
hem now. He simply didn’t want them intruding on this moment. He had been certain that he was never going to see her again. Now, he could imagine spending a life with her.
She swung their baby, only eighteen months old, in her arms. Bernard had missed so much of those eighteen months. He had been there for the baby’s birth. He’d ducked his surveillance enough for that moment. The birth of his daughter was a moment he refused to share with the Company’s customers, along with every single moment he had spent with his daughter and with her mother. He would die before giving those memories to a stranger.
As he stepped close to them, Priya held out their daughter to him. Bernard reached for the child, afraid of how she might react. Surely she couldn’t have any memory of him. He took the small girl into his arms, suddenly self-conscious about his raggedy T-shirt. She fell into him and he hugged her tight to his chest. “Hello, Rhea,” he whispered to his daughter. “Hello, baby girl.” She didn’t say anything in response but placed her head on Bernard’s shoulder. “Hello, Priya,” Bernard whispered to his daughter’s mother.
“Hello,” she whispered back to him. He could see the shimmer in her deep brown eyes. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” Bernard answered. “Let’s go home.”
To all the readers who are still in search of a better tomorrow, this book is for you.
BY T. S. NICHOLS
The Memory Detective
The Murderer’s Memories
PHOTO: © KEVIN TRAGESER
T. S. NICHOLS was born and raised in New Jersey. He is a graduate of Columbia University and Georgetown University Law Center. He currently lives in Brooklyn with his wife and two sons.
Every great mystery needs an Alibi
eOriginal mystery and suspense from Random House
randomhousebooks.com
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.