The Relic Keeper

by Anderson, N David

  Deon whistled tunelessly as he passed his colleagues in the maze of corridors of the clinic and headed towards the rear door. He could feel people watching him, wondering what he was doing. A thin line of perspiration started to form on is top lip and he became aware of how out of place he must look here. He wasn’t a hospital porter, how was it that no one had seen that? He pushed Mathew along the route to the outside world, ever more aware that his need to assume James Peacock’s identity would no longer exist as soon as he left this place. The personality he had been using for the past weeks would be obsolete within minutes. At one time he had even begun to think that he was this person. How ludicrous that seemed now. Anyone could tell that he didn’t know what he was doing. Philip and Reiko had noticed, and they wouldn’t be the only ones. A voice far off said something. Deon couldn’t see who’d spoken, and looked around desperate to find the owner of the voice. Then several more came, talking to him at once in a strange way that seemed vaguely familiar. “They know you’re not him, you know. None of them think you’re James.” “They know what’s in your pocket.”

  “They’ve all seen what you’re doing.”

  “All of these people belong; you’re not one of them.”

  “You don’t though, no, you don’t belong.”

  “Shut up!” snapped Deon, and the voices subsided as suddenly as they’d arrived. He looked around but no one was watching him. He stood in the corridor confused. He breathed deeply while tried to compose himself. The air was hot and heavy and sweat was breaking out on his face. He could feel the clamminess of his hands and could hear the irregularity of his breathing. He stood motionless and waited for the voices to return, but they didn’t.

  “Tested,” he whispered. “He’s testing me. This is my task, my mission.” He grabbed the trolley and heaved it forward down the slope to the rear exit. From behind him he gradually became aware of a commotion. A red light started flashing overhead, and people began running in all directions. He realised that he may have been standing too long in the corridor; maybe he’d drawn attention to himself. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked round and saw Mark, one of the security guards checking a list while he spoke to him.

  “What are you doing James? You’re not scheduled to be working here today.”

  “I’m, err, I’m working, yes. But I’m in a hurry, I have to move this guy, you know. He’s, well, he’s dead, obviously. God I hate moving the stiffs, but you know, got to be done by someone, and it’s me. That’s what I do. Move the dead guys. Critical ain’t it!”

  “Wait here,” said the security guard, his square head moving around Deon, checking him. “Where are you taking this guy? Mortuary’s that way.”

  “Yeah, not going there though, ’cos, well, ’cos he’s got a contagious condition, you know. It’s critical. Really. So I have to take him down…here.” He nodded towards the exit and tried to remember what Rei had told him to say if he were stopped.

  “Well, you ain’t going down that way now. There’s a security alert and no one’s to move between sections or leave the building.” Sweat dripped down the back of Deon’s neck. His mind went blank Rei had told him what he needed to say if he was quizzed and now he couldn’t remember a thing.

  “I have to go,” mumbled and began to walk off. Mark caught him in a firm grip.

  “Jamie, I don’t know what you’re up to, but you ain’t going anywhere until I find out.”

  “He’s taken too long,” said Philip anxiously. “Are you sure that he can get to the 54th floor and down again in twenty minutes?” Deon had now been gone nearly forty.

  “Yes definitely. He must have been stopped inside.”

  “Maybe they’ve moved Lyal.”

  “I don’t think it’s likely. There is not really anywhere to move him to. There is no reason to put him somewhere else.”

  “We’re going to have to go down and see what’s happening. Is there a way in without a security pass?”

  “No. Not unless you jump the barrier, but then the security people will obviously see you straight away.”

  “Well, I’ll have to risk it. I need you to create a diversion.”

  “And how should I do that?” Rei said rather indignantly. It seemed to her that Philip was not capable of thinking a plan through, and as so often happened, now she was going to have to sort the problem.

  “Just take this to the front of the building,” he explained, pulling a canister from his bag. “Press this button here and in twenty seconds you’ll get a loud bang and a lot of smoke. It won’t do any real damage, although if you’re too close it may perforate your eardrum.”

  “Do you always carry explosives with you? Where did it come from?”

  “I was in the army, and no, I don’t always carry explosives, but if I think I may need a little help I always like to have a contingency plan.” He winked at her and she smiled slightly in spite of herself. Perhaps he did think things through after all. “It’s a little less organised than what I planned, but it’s this or nothing.

  “Give me five minutes.” He slung his bag on his back and ran to the rear entrance of the clinic. He found the door easily enough. The barrier was only waist high, but a guard was positioned ten metres from it. He waited against the wall and prepared his own pyrotechnic diversion. He primed the bomb and rolled the small silver cylinder under the barrier. The guard saw it gliding across the floor and took a step towards it when it ignited. Grey smoke billowed around the foyer and the shocked guard clasped his hands on his ears. Philip jumped the barrier and wished he was still a couple of kilos lighter; he hadn’t done this sort of exercise since he’d been on manoeuvres ten years back. He slipped past the guard unnoticed and sped up the corridor.

  No one questioned him, and he wondered just how secure this place really was. For all the security personnel and multiple watchers stationed around the building none of the hundreds of people here seemed to be bothered unduly about him. Through the crowded walkway he could see the far end of the foyer and the front entrance by the ostentatious atrium. And just in front of that he saw Deon. He had the trolley that Philip hoped contained Lyal, and he was being frog-marched along by a burly security guard.

  Philip ran up to the pair.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” he shouted at Deon. “This patient is needed for cadaver research immediately. Come on let’s go.” He shook his head and said the security guard: “He’s a bloody nightmare this one. Always takes forever to get us our bodies. God knows what he’d be like if we let him loose on any live ones.”

  The security guard was taken aback, but didn’t release his grip on Deon. “I’m sorry,” he said squinting at Philip. “But you are…?”

  “Doctor Brading. Pathology. We’ve been waiting for this one for an hour now,” said Philip, trying to drag Deon and the trolley with him.

  “Sorry Doctor, but I’ve had express orders that no one’s to move from this area. So if you just wouldn’t mind waiting while I check your details.” Suddenly an alarm sounded. The smoke bomb at the rear entrance must have set off the detectors Philip thought. The security guard glanced down the corridor at the smoke that was now visible at the rear door, when there was a loud explosion from the other end of the hall and a second cloud of smoke appeared. A porter ran down and shouted that the protestors had thrown a bomb at the main entrance. The security guard looked a little confused.

  “Hadn’t you better see to that!” commanded Philip.

  The guard looked around. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before,” he said, keeping one eye on the front door, where people were beginning to swarm like ants around a crack in the nest. “What did you say your name was?”

  “My name, yes it’s….shit what’s that,” Philip cried pointing to one side. The guard swung around and Philip punched him as hard as he could. It was a day for old tricks it seemed. He turned to leave then realised that Deon wasn’t following, grabbed him and the trolley and sped down to the rear door.

&nbs
p; “This is Lyal under here, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” replied Deon. “Who’s bombing us?”

  “No one’s bombing us; we just need to leave now.”

  “I heard bombs!”

  “I’ll explain later, just follow,” Philip growled as he pulled Deon through the panic that was unravelling around them.

  The rear doors were being evacuated and they pushed through the throngs of people and rammed the trolley through the crash bars out into the street. “Out the way, emergency!” shouted Philip, and he watched as people parted to allow them past. Outside he saw Rei running to meet them. He snatched the cover off Mathew.

  “He’s unconscious,” he stated incredulously.

  “He wouldn’t come,” said Deon. “I did try to convince him, but he wouldn’t come so I had to use a little of this stuff that Reiko gave me.”

  Rei joined them.

  “Nice diversion,” he said. “Any problems?”

  “No, I can handle a smoke grenade.”

  “So I see.”

  “What’s happened to Mathew,” she asked inspecting the patient on the trolley. “Did you have to use the chloroform?” Deon nodded.

  “How long will he be out? He won’t be able to walk anywhere soon presumably?” asked Philip, sensing that the whole plan of pulling Lyal out quietly had been completely fucked.

  “No, he’ll be out for an hour or so,” Rei replied. “It’s bedlam back there. They won’t realise that he’s gone for a while, there’s too much happening.”

  “Well, let’s not count on that. I reckon they were already onto us before we set the charges. Hopefully it’ll keep them occupied for a while though. Deon, go out to the road and get a cab. Not a bike, right? Get us something with seats.”

  “Right, where to?”

  “Just get one for the moment. Right, Rei, hold onto this guy a second.” Rei held Mathew up as best she could on the trolley. Philip took out a small flask from his pocket and poured some of the contents over Mathew, then pulled his arm across his shoulder. “Rei, try and get under the other side and give whatever support you can. This had better work, bloody waste of Jack Daniels otherwise.”

  They dragged the unconscious man along the side street to where Deon had managed to hail a cab and pushed Mathew into it.

  “Your mate reeks of scotch. If he’s sick I’ll charge double,” objected the driver.

  “He’ll be ok, just a little too much liquid lunch.” Philip gave an address and the four of them left the carnage of the Walden Centre.

  “Bloody mess back there,” said the driver. “Spect it’s anover of them bombs that bin goin’ off this week. I’m gonna leave London soon as I get the money. It’s too bloody dangerous ’ere these days.”

  “Yeah,” said Philip. “I’m thinking of getting out myself.”

  36

  Mathew’s head ached and his vision was blurred. He felt the world slowly swim into focus and tried to remember what had happened. He was in a cold and dark room, not the white constant temperature of the clinic anymore. The room had wooden joists and plaster walls and looked more like the loft to a shop than anything associated with his hospitalisation. There were sash windows on two sides giving a view out over roofs and gutters, which was the first view if the world he’d really seen. Within the room itself there was little in the way of furniture, although a few boxes and crates were scattered randomly around. He heard someone talking and looked around, to see Rei speaking to two men. He knew one of them, the porter who had been in his room earlier. The other was a large man in his thirties, who looked like he’d been tough once, but had let himself go. They were speaking in quiet tones that Mathew couldn’t make out. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Where are we?” he asked, suddenly feeling the dryness in his mouth. The three all looked up but Rei was the first one to approach him.

  “Hello Mathew, you’ve been out for a couple of hours. I was getting worried. How are you feeling?”

  “My head hurts and I’m very thirsty. Do you have any water?” She passed him a bottle and he gulped at the contents, almost choking. “Thanks, where am I?”

  “You’re safe, which is what matters,” the large man said as he approached him. “I’m Philip.”

  “I thought I was safe before.”

  “Well, you weren’t. There were some problems at the clinic that you don’t know about, and, well we’ve got you away from there because of that. Obviously you know Rei, and this is Deon.”

  “I thought your name was James.”

  “It’s a long story, pal. But Deon got you out, not that you helped much. We’re in south east London, but we need to get you right out of here. Basically you’re not safe as long as you’re alive here. We’ll hole up here for a day or so while we make plans, then we’re going to get you out of the country, and then you should be safe.”

  “Out the country? What are you talking about? Rei, I can’t leave here. I’ve only just started to walk again. And James, or Deon if that’s your name now, I thought you’d made contact with Jessica? I’m not leaving the country. Where would I go?” Mathew sniffed the air, turning up his nose at the smell. “Did someone pour a drink over me?”

  “Ok ok, I appreciate this is all a bit of a shock, but we really do need to keep you away from the clinic. We’ll get a change of clothes for you too. Just give us a chance to get organised. We really do need to get you out of London.”

  “What for? Do you think they’re going to kill me or something?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” snarled Philip. “That is pretty much it. They’ve exploited you as much as they need to and now they’re not bothered about you, and to be honest it looks as if it would be in their best interests now if you weren’t around for a whole while longer. So start accepting that this is being done for your good.”

  “Rei, what’s all this about? Have you three kidnapped me? What is it you want?”

  “I’m sorry Mathew,” said Rei as Philip folded his arms and waited for her to try to pacify the situation. “But Philip’s right, if a little indelicate. I’ve been dismissed for something I didn’t do, so has everyone who worked with you. Did anyone see you yesterday?” Mathew shook his head. “That is because there isn’t anyone left to administer to you. I had to get Deon to bring you out of the clinic disguised as a corpse.”

  “Which at least you’ve had good practice at.”

  “Shut up Philip. We had to get you out otherwise they were going to let you die. They’ve already broadcast a report that you have relapsed and are now terminally ill.”

  “We have to keep you from harm,” said Deon. “There’s more at stake here, you should know that. We have something that we need to do for the future.” Mathew felt a little anxious at the way he spoke. It seemed as if Deon thought they shared a secret.

  “Don’t worry about him,” said Philip, without looking over, “he always talks like that. The thing is; you are in trouble. I know you didn’t know anything about it, but there are reasons for the Walden Centre not wanting to help you make a full recovery.”

  “What reasons?”

  “Well, it looks as if…” started Philip before Rei interrupted.

  “We don’t know. We do know that there is a reason that they do not want you to recover, but currently we are not positive why that is. But we know that you are safer here than in the clinic.”

  “Oh great, you’ve all really thought this out,” cried Mathew, feeling his headache intensifying. “So I did have all the medical attention I needed and a room and food, and a chance to contact my kid, and maybe even my wife. But you three got a feeling that something was wrong and ‘rescued’ me to…” he looked about the room, “…to this shit hole. And now you want me to get a plane out of here or something. This is fucking brilliant.”

  “It would have to be a boat really,” said Deon, while he rummaged in the bag he’d brought. “Although I did think that maybe there might be a rail-route that we could use.”

  “Sh
ut up,” growled Mathew. “I think you’ve pissed me off enough for one day.” He sat on the chair by the table and breathed deeply, trying to compose himself.

  “I tell you what,” snapped Philip, pointing a finger accusingly at Mathew. “You’d better start trusting people, ’cos none of us has anything much to gain from this. We’ve all put ourselves out for your safety, and at the moment I reckon I’d be better off sending you back where you came from, pal.”

  “And what is your interest in this exactly?” asked Mathew. “Why are you all helping me? ’Cos at the moment this seems like the sort of help I could do without.”

  “I have lost my job in caring for you,” said Rei quietly, “and that may mean that I get deported. I know that you are in trouble and I feel that I would like to help you, rather than let you perish, which is what would surely happen. Deon feels the same, and so does Philip. He’s been interested in your case since he started his first article on you a few weeks ago.”

  “Article? You’re a journalist? Well, that explains a lot. So how much am I worth to you?”

  “Nothing if you die before I get my story,” Philip said acidly.

  “You’re a regular charmer, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, and you need to have a little more faith. I don’t really care about you, ok, but I want a story, and at the end of the day I don’t see why the clinic should get away with what it’s been doing. And this girl here has no reason whatsoever to help you, except that she wants to. Same with him,” he pointed to Deon. “So just try to accept that we know best. If you want I’ll take you back myself, and you still won’t see your daughter ’cos you’ll be dead in a week. That what you want?”

  “I think,” said Deon timidly, “that we all need a little faith here. We all need to trust that things are happening beyond our control for a reason we can’t see yet. Maybe we could pray.”