by Seth Patrick
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.
Yet he had had to be content with friendly hugs and teasing banter. To the research teams, Tess included, he was a little brother, a mascot.
And Tess was spoken for. She was seeing Will Barlow, charming, intelligent and manipulative. The latter seemed to be a minority opinion held by Jonah – one that others he confided in blamed on Barlow’s hold on Tess Neil’s affections.
She made time for Jonah, all the same. They had formed a friendship that first day, when Jonah had found himself crying and unable to stop, and Tess had taken charge. Whenever he was at Baseline, she played pool with him every lunchtime in the Baseline rec room. Jonah talked, confided in her. Tess listened. He couldn’t read her, though. She was a different person when he saw her in the company of others, Barlow in particular – aloof and cynical, she would hardly acknowledge Jonah’s presence. When, in their time together, he managed to get her to speak of her own life, she was typically brief.
She was an enigma, then, but to a young man with an impossible crush, none of that mattered. And in those rare times when she did open up to him, he found himself believing that this was the real Tess; that she could come to feel about him the way he did about her.
As the number of revivers and the breadth of research increased, Baseline grew busy and Jonah saw less and less of her. He spent most of his time on Sam’s projects, forensic work under the FBI banner. Tess worked mainly for the large Baseline sponsors like Andreas Biotech.
Then came the allegations.
The researchers at Baseline were at fate’s mercy; whatever subjects became available were issued to the most appropriate team. This led to some lines of research stalling through lack of useful subjects. There was frustration.
One of the first things that Sam Deering had done on joining Baseline was to improve the procedures for what were called ‘subject acquisitions’. The temptation to use alternative sources had been resisted thus far, but Sam could see the problems on the horizon.
Use of unidentified corpses. The homeless. The unwanted. Sourcing from countries where the poor were at even greater risk of exploitation. The money involved in the current voluntary system could be considerable – ‘outsourcing’ would, Sam knew, lead to widespread abuse, perhaps even murder. A return to the nineteenth-century resurrectionists.
The system to prevent this was called Subject Tracking. A detailed history, traceable at every stage, for all subjects; random reviews to ensure procedures were adhered to.
But no system is infallible.
Rumours began that at least one Baseline research team had been working outside the system, forging documentation. This was around the time of the Lyssa Underwood revival, and the rumour prompted Jonah to go to Sam. The uneasiness he had felt during that bizarre session had been in part due to the fractured confusion of the subject, something Jonah hadn’t experienced in any previous work. All the subjects at Baseline had been through a process of preparation before their deaths. All those Jonah had brought back had understood they were being revived.
All except Lyssa Underwood.
Perhaps it had been Jonah’s dislike of Will Barlow that had made him go to Sam after that session, but the confusion in Lyssa Underwood’s mind had been too worrying for him to ignore.
‘I can’t talk about it in detail, Jonah,’ Sam had said. ‘They used you under the standard Baseline rules, nothing wrong with that. I’ve heard the rumours going around, but this is the first time I’ve been given something specific to look into. Leave it with me.’
The rumours stayed internal. Nobody in Baseline wanted to drag the project’s dirty linen into public view, not based solely on speculation.
Eventually, an admission was made to m
inor documentation irregularities. A week later, the project team left Baseline, their departure put down to a reassessment of research priority, officially unconnected to the documentation problems.
Will Barlow left too, supposedly to work as a private reviver. It was obvious to everyone that the research work the team had been doing – whatever it was, and whoever it was for – had simply relocated.
Tess had been angry, and naturally people thought she knew more than she was saying, but she waved away questions. The few times Jonah asked her about Will, she seemed genuinely hurt by the whole situation. She started seeing one of the technicians, a stormy coupling that continued, on and off, for the rest of her time at Baseline.
It hadn’t been long after Barlow left Baseline that Sam also moved on, starting his prototype FRS in Quantico. Jonah had stayed behind, in part because of Tess. The month after his nineteenth birthday, Tess told him she was leaving that day for private work in Canada. She wished him luck and kissed him once, deeply. Then she walked away with a single backward glance, smiling at the teenager.
Jonah secured his place in the FRS nine weeks later, just as they expanded into the office in Richmond.
* * *
He had not seen her in seven years, and now there she was, standing in front of him. He had no idea what she’d been doing since then, yet she had known he’d gone to the FRS. She had the advantage. She always did.
‘Surprise,’ she said and took his hand. Jonah was unprepared for the effect her touch had on him. He felt giddy, unable to speak.
Sam smiled at her. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you, Tess.’
‘Hi, Sam,’ she said.
‘I lost track of you after you left Baseline,’ said Sam. ‘I still had hopes I could convince you to join the FRS. How have things been?’
‘Good.’
‘Did you ever see Will again?’
Tess shook her head. ‘No. You ever hear from him?’
‘Not a word,’ said Sam. ‘So what have you been doing?’
‘Private work,’ she said. ‘Not much of a challenge, but it pays well.’
Sam looked at her, appraising. Jonah did too, noticing the quality of everything she wore. Delicate white gloves. A necklace that was understated but clearly expensive. Her clothes simple but oozing quality.
‘I can see,’ said Sam. ‘You look well.’
‘You too,’ Tess told him, then turned her eyes on Jonah. ‘And you.’
Jonah went red.
At that, Sam’s attention was caught. ‘Ah, Helen’s waving me over. Great to see you again, Tess. We’ll chat more later, see if I can’t convince you to give up all the riches for public service.’
Tess smiled. ‘Your work’s cut out there, Sam, but good luck trying.’
Sam nodded and crossed the room back to Helen.
Jonah indicated Never. ‘Tess Neil, this is Never Geary. He’s a revival technician.’
‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Tess,’ said Never, holding his hand out.
Tess shook his hand with a wary eye. ‘Not all bad, I hope.’
‘No,’ said Never. ‘There was good stuff too.’ It earned him a scowl from Jonah, but the usual grin broke out on Never’s face and Tess smiled back.
‘Can I steal Jonah for a while?’ she said. ‘We have some catching up to do.’
‘You two go ahead,’ said Never. ‘I’ll catch you later.’
* * *
Jonah and Tess took a corner table well away from the crowd. Tess took off her gloves and set them on the table. He sat opposite.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘So far away?’
‘I want to get a good look at you,’ he replied, knowing he was blushing again. ‘I want to know what you’ve been up to. And what the occasion is.’
Tess took a sip of her drink, her lower lip sticking for just an instant as it left the glass. Jonah was aware he was staring at her mouth but couldn’t help himself.
‘I’m here for Sam’s retirement,’ she said.
Jonah shook his head. ‘Out of the blue? How did you hear about it?’
‘Through the grapevine. But I admit I had another motive. I wanted to see you.’ Tess spoke more quietly. ‘I’ve wanted to see you for seven years, Jonah.’
The answer floored him. ‘You could have got in touch any time.’
Tess shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
He looked at her for a moment, suspicious. ‘So what have you been doing?’ he asked.
‘You first.’
‘FRS.’
‘Seven years, and that’s it?’
‘Yep.’
‘And what about your life, Jonah? Conquests? Great loves? Adventure?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m quietly content with murder and tragedy.’
Tess tipped her head, mock-sadly. ‘Shame. Are you happy?’
The question caught him off guard. ‘Happy? Sometimes.’
‘You know, I really thought you’d bloom. I thought you’d make your life good.’
‘It’s not bad.’
‘You’re lonely.’
The observation cut close. He thought of Nala George’s horrified face staring at him. He looked down. ‘Sometimes,’ he said and sipped his drink. ‘But what about you? Did you really not hear from Will again?’ Good God, he thought. She’s blushing. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her blush before.
‘OK, I admit I heard from him a few years back.’
‘You ever find out what he was doing? What that project he’d been on was for?’
She thought about this, then shook her head. ‘No. He wouldn’t even tell me what he’d gone on to do next. He seemed happy enough, whatever it was.’
‘Christ, I remember how angry you were when the shit hit the fan.’
Tess looked to the ceiling and sighed. ‘All in the past now, but yes. I was raging. I was a little impetuous in those days.’
Jonah raised an eyebrow. ‘You mean you’re not now?’
She laughed. ‘I’ve changed, Jonah. You wouldn’t believe how much. I think … I think you’d be proud of me.’
It was Jonah’s turn to laugh. ‘So you’ll be at the FRS soon, then?’ He meant it as a joke, but he thought he could see hurt in her eyes.
‘That’s not something I’ll ever be cut out for, Jonah. Private revivals, US and abroad, for one of the more exclusive providers. Good money. Good lifestyle. There aren’t many people who can guarantee a revival, given the right conditions. You should consider it.’
‘So people keep telling me.’
‘Is it something you’d want to do?’
‘A week ago I would’ve said no, but work’s been hard. I’ve been doing too much. Don’t say anything to anyone, but I’m giving it some thought.’
Jonah wasn’t certain, but she seemed surprised, almost disappointed. ‘Well, if you’re going to sell out, have you considered one of the more exclusive companies? Make some real money for a change.’
‘If I gave up forensics, it wouldn’t be for the money. There are plenty of ordinary people who pay their insurance and get lousy revival success rates in return. I’d be happy bringing the rates up.’
She chuckled. ‘One of the reasons I came here was to see how you turned out.’
‘And your conclusion?’
‘You’ve not changed much.’
‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’
‘Oh, good.’ She smiled softly, a warm, genuine smile, not Tess’s well-practised public face. This, at last, was the girl he’d had such a crush on. ‘I wish you’d got more of a life going, but I’m glad you’re still a sweetheart. All your honour still intact. Very heartening.’ She dipped the volume of her voice and leaned across the table. Her right hand slipped off her glass and rested on his knee. The touch was bliss. ‘Very attractive,’ she whispered, all mischief. ‘You were always an idealist. Now, why so far?’
‘What?’
‘Sit beside me.’
Jonah felt uneasy. He took a drink and glanced around. Th
e corner they were in was secluded, darker than the rest of the room. He couldn’t see Never.
‘I will,’ he said. ‘If you answer a question.’
‘Shoot.’
‘Why did you kiss me on that last day?’
Tess looked away for a moment. ‘I wanted to.’
‘You had to know how I felt about you. You had to know that it was going to drive me crazy.’
‘I was leaving. It was a last chance. It’s not like you were a kid, Jonah.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s exactly what I was, Tess. I was a kid you came to, for what? A bit of light relief? Someone you could wrap around your finger like Will did with you?’
Her face fell. ‘Don’t say that. That wasn’t what it was.’
‘Then what?’
‘I was a better person around you.’ She paused, struggling for the words. ‘Without all the shit, I was better. And I wanted to be better. You made me want to be.’
‘Then why didn’t you get in touch? Seven years gives you plenty of chances.’
Tess took a deep breath. ‘Jonah, you and I both know we’re too different. It would end badly. You’d get hurt and I’d be a bitch. I couldn’t let that happen. Hell, Jonah, just because I wanted to be better didn’t mean I would be.’
He felt himself deflate. He knew she was right – always had – but it was hard to hear her say it. ‘So why are you here now?’
‘Because I’m leaving the country, and I’m not coming back again. It really is a last chance.’
‘Why?’
Tess shook her head. ‘No details.’ She patted the seat to her left. ‘Sit beside me.’
Jonah did, wary of her. No details. An enigma to the end. As he sat, it struck him what she’d said. ‘A last chance for what, Tess?’
She moved over, her face an inch away from his. He took in her eyes, her skin, that playful smile, all burned deep in his memory. Whatever warning bells sounded, he was already lost in her.
‘I want another kiss,’ she said softly, the air from her mouth hot against his lips, the smell of tequila and lime mingling with her perfume. He was caught in her headlights. She brushed her lips against his. They felt impossibly good, full and alive, and he wanted to kiss her so badly that he had no choice but to draw away. He felt like he’d been drowning.