Minions

by Addison, Garrett

  “Who’s your offsider?” Angie ignored the hint.

  “My name is Devlin,” he said, stepping forward to introduce himself. “The Detective here wanted me to meet you. It may be that you know someone that I’d like to meet.”

  “I know who you are,” Angie said as soon as she registered the name. She looked to Reymond, “You’re wrong about Malcolm, Detective.”

  “I’m just trying to help. Malcolm and his friend, or friends, won’t stop. I would have thought you’d understand now how close you came.”

  “Malcolm’s more likely to help me than you are, but thanks for introducing me to Devlin here. Malcolm’s already told me about him.”

  Devlin stepped forward and spoke up. “Angie, I’m only here at the request of the Detective here. But if the opportunity came up, then I’d be keen to meet with Malcolm.”

  “Quite,” said Angie. “I’d like to talk to you too, but only after Detective Ghoul here leaves.”

  The Detective raised his hand in acceptance that he was being sidelined. “My offer stands, Angie. And just because you can’t see it or won’t see it, won’t stop it from happening. I’m going to get him with or without you because if it’s not you, it will be someone else.” He left the room, summoning a nurse to follow him.

  “Why didn’t you tell the Detective about Nebojsa?” Devlin started as soon as the Detective was out of sight. “I’m assuming you’re the same Angie who described Nebojsa in a LastGasp’ message.”

  Angie nodded while touching the most painful of her bruises under the covers. She held back a wince, but used the pain to focus her thoughts. “Malcolm said you were different.”

  “I have no idea why he’d say that about me.”

  “He said you’d be oblivious too.”

  “Why would he say that about someone he didn’t know?” Devlin asked, frustrated but composed.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps if I knew then I could make him stay.”

  “The Detective seems keen to help … If you’d let him.”

  “Detective Reymond is well meaning, but he’s chasing the wrong person. He was nice enough to save me the other day, but he needn’t have bothered.”

  “Was Malcolm going to come to your rescue?”

  “Malcolm has it in hand,” Angie said solemnly.

  “I would have thought that any man worth their salt would have wanted to be there for you. I tend to agree with the Detective and his low expectations of the guy.”

  “You know nothing about Malcolm, so who are you to say?” Angie closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. That came out all wrong.” She took a deep breath and composed herself and relented a regret filled look to her visitor. “I know you’re only here to meet Malcolm.”

  “That’s not entirely true. I read your message, and when that cop mentioned your name, I guess I wondered how I might help.”

  The comment hit a raw nerve and try as she might, she could not contain her emotions. “Were you prepared to extend your wonder into action, or just sit idly by thinking about it?” she said angrily

  “I wanted to help, but …”

  “I’ll bet you think you’re so fucking good, just because you at least wanted to help!”

  “I don’t need to take this from you, Angie.”

  As he stood to leave, Angie felt her rage bubble over and be further inflamed with every step that he took from her bedside. She unleashed the vitriol that welled up from inside her. “I hope he finds you!”

  Devlin paused for a time with his back to Angie as if considering asking for some clarification. That he didn’t say anything and eventually continued on his way was typical.

  * * *

  Malcolm waited until he saw Reymond and the new guy leave before he made his way from the ward waiting room. It was just as well that they didn’t stay longer really as he had too much to do to sit idle and he’d completed every puzzle in each of the available magazines on offer. It was true that he could have just left, but he needed to say his goodbyes to Angie; she deserved that much. He could have joined her while they were at her bedside, but he didn’t want to see the Detective or Devlin really.

  One thing that was good about hospital waiting rooms was the volume and assortment of newspapers. Malcolm had managed to piece together the complete chronology of everything that he’d missed during his sabbatical and also checked the progress on his other projects. Others might not have been able to see through the gloom and doom of the news, but Malcolm found the read very positive. What was more, he had managed to do this without any digital signature. There was a lot to be said for such traditional media.

  There was no time to procrastinate. Angie would not be happy at what he had to say, but there was no avoiding the fact that it needed to be said. It was just unfortunate that he needed to say it now when, judging by her tirade, she was a little emotional. Malcolm just hoped that she would be able to stay objective and understand the bigger picture; the greater good.

  Chapter - 51.

  Devlin refused to be engaged by Detective Reymond in the car on anything beyond banal comment on the weather and traffic conditions. He wasn’t being rude, and it wasn’t on account of his usual innate apprehension with regard to authority. This time, Devlin was busy thinking, but he was finding it difficult to focus. His thought processes were a scattered array of confusion; debating his stay or run options, replaying Angie’s words and perspective, Lori’s revelations about Albert, and the disparity in driving style between Ikel and the Detective. Devlin also thought of Glen and Whitely, picturing them each with a knowing grin.

  A phone rang and Reymond answered it using some wireless, cordless, hands-free thing that Devlin never understood. The use of such technology enabled him to share in the conversation initially, though as soon as Reymond realised it was Angie on the line, clearly in more of a state than when they’d left the hospital, he reverted to the use of the handset. Devlin tried to make what he could of their exchange, but the surrounding hum of traffic made that next to impossible, particularly as Angie was doing all of the talking. He resigned himself to the necessity to wait.

  The smug look on the Detective’s face as soon as the call was completed was enough for Devlin to be concerned. When he pulled over to side of the road and switched off the engine, Devlin just braced himself for what could only be bad news.

  “That was Angie, obviously,” Reymond began. “And she’s more than a little upset.” Devlin said nothing, waiting for the kicker.

  “She’s finally decided to tell me who her attacker is. I have to say that this is good news and it makes me happy. Today might just have an upside after all!”

  “Why do I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Devlin tried a smile, as much to relax his mood as that of the Detective, but one never eventuated.

  “Can you please account for your whereabouts the day before yesterday once more for me?”

  Devlin felt for the door handle, but he stopped short of actually exercising it, and oddly enough there was little comfort to be had in stroking the handle. Angie had set him up, and a cursory recollection suggested that proving things might be difficult. Amongst the small talk that the Detective had tried to encourage further discussion had been to share how he had come to meet Malcolm and then Angie. He described Angie’s house and locale, and Devlin reasoned that it may well have been within a few blocks of the LastGasp’ office. It would be just his luck that he walked right past it as he made his way to meet Glen at LastGasp’ the first time. In fact, he may well have walked past just as she was being assaulted. It wouldn’t take too much digging to come up with witnesses to place him in the vicinity, and that would be enough if Angie cared to finger him. He knew enough of the procedure to be worried.

  “Convince me now and you just might save yourself having to do this at the station.”

  “What exactly has she said?”

  “Here or at the station, Devlin?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I read her message, I bumped into you
on an unrelated matter and the rest you know, including the part where the only way that I managed to meet her at all was via you.” Devlin couldn’t help his exacerbation. “I only met her in the hospital, so please don’t tell me she’s saying that I’m responsible in some way for her injury. I don’t know what else I can tell you, but more than ever I’d like to speak to Malcolm.” He wound down the window as a safe alternative to opening the door.

  Detective Reymond watched Devlin with the maturity of an old dog on a porch. “Angie’s injuries could well have been the result of a drug deal gone wrong. But they weren’t. You could well have been involved in her latest injuries, but not the rest of them.” The Detective held up his hand to quash any potential interruptions. “It’s interesting that when you were… elsewhere, Malcolm was potentially in the frame.” He produced a single sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. “What can you tell me about this list?”

  Devlin took the sheet after the Detective baulked briefly at his attempt and then relented. Within the first few lines he recognised Glen’s list of past LastGasp’ employees. This was a photocopy, hand annotated with some indecipherable scrawl and copied, but it was definitely the same list. He resisted the urge to compare it line for line with his copy, still folded in his jeans pocket. “Where did you get this?”

  “My sources are my business. What do you know about it?”

  “Not a lot. I said before that Glen gave me a list of past employees to visit. Well, this is the list. Why would you have it?”

  “Angie had it on her person when I found her.” The Detective thought for a moment then added, “You know I can help.”

  “Frankly Detective, I’m not entirely sure I need help. ”

  “How many names on this list have you visited?”

  “One. Only Whitely. I saw him this morning. Are you suggesting that I should visit a few more?”

  “Perhaps, but you might like to choose carefully. A number of the names on the list were familiar, which invariably means that I’ve come across them in my work.”

  Chapter - 52.

  Devlin thought he would feel relief when the Detective returned him to Ikel’s car, but instead, he felt more than a little abandoned. Reymond hadn’t said another word after suggesting that he needed to meet with others from Glen’s list, and so the entire trip dragged on and seemed to take substantially longer than the ten or so minutes that it actually took. Devlin had spent every one of those long minutes trying to come up with a plan while half expecting to be taken directly to the Police station. It wasn’t until the Detective pulled up gently behind Ikel’s car that he realised at least that particular element of his stress was in vain.

  Now alone with his thoughts seated in Ikel’s car with the engine running, Devlin had no idea what to do. He saw the playground that provided the backdrop for his picture in the newspaper and theorised as to where the photograph was taken from. From where he was parked he could also see many windows in the adjacent apartment complex, one of which was possibly Tania’s. He considered visiting her for more information, but that seemed both pointless and inappropriate.

  A knuckled knock on the passenger side window abruptly ended Devlin’s daydreaming. By the time he made a motion to see who was attracting his attention it was apparent that, whoever it was, a man, was opening the door. By the time Devlin thought to wonder what was happening, the guy was seated, eyes forward, looking at the street ahead, and reaching for his seatbelt. Devlin struggled for the most appropriate words to express all that seemed necessary. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “My name is Malcolm Venn.” He spoke clearly and succinctly, but kept his eyes forward, looking through the windscreen. “I want you to drive away from here.”

  “Where to?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just drive.”

  Devlin slipped the car into gear and did as instructed.

  Chapter - 53.

  Angie was true to form, thought Nebojsa as soon as he learnt that she had checked herself out of the ward. The nurse then proceeded to describe how she’d grown angry with a few visitors, but then went completely irrational and left, but he wasn’t really listening to anything that she said. Instead, he was focussed on another nurse in an adjacent office with the door ajar briefing an older gent. The usual lack of respect for patient confidentiality was very beneficial. It was obvious that the older guy was Police, of some description, judging by the fact that the staff were comfortable disclosing all to him; in so doing they shared everything with Nebojsa himself too.

  It was refreshing to hear the old guy’s frustration. He was annoyed that Angie was gone, and Nebojsa shared that sentiment, of sorts. That Malcolm was of interest to the Detective too was obvious. Nebojsa wondered if the Police found Malcolm to be as good a source of knowledge as he did. If Malcolm wasn’t such a veritable source of seeds he wondered if he wouldn’t have wanted to coax all the knowledge that he could from the guy.

  So engrossed in listening to what the old guy was being told, Nebojsa didn’t notice when the nurse addressing him actually stopped talking. The nurse quickly understood that her banter was little more than background noise to what he was really listening to. She closed the door, and only after she had done so did he realise that his veneer of cover had been blown. He shrugged off her evil stares, but noted her name just the same, in case a later visit was to be considered. He pushed the basket of fruit and ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons across the counter and calmly left the ward.

  Chapter - 54.

  The knock at the door broke Conrad’s concentration completely. Used to working on his own, he often surprised himself at how familiar sounds would not distract him from his train of thought. He worked best iPod in ears, some pirated DVD playing in the background and the periodic whir and bubble of his coffee machine or a beeping reminder that some reheated food remained in the microwave awaiting retrieval. However, he didn’t get many visitors and the rap at the door took him completely off guard. He responded poorly, spilling his coffee over his lap, and had it not been for his much soiled dressing gown, he would certainly have burned his nether region. Instead, it might just have provided the necessary impetus for his dressing gown to be washed.

  Malcolm’s visits were always unexpected and this time was no exception. He pushed his way inside much like he usually did, this time all but dragging Devlin with him. He coaxed Devlin to the couch and then made himself at home at the desk. Quicker than Conrad could object, he rebooted the computer after first inserting a memory stick into the machine.

  “What are you doing, Malcolm?” Conrad asked desperately. “Do you have any idea how close I was?”

  “Yes,” Malcolm replied with disinterest. He typed as the machine started, oblivious to Conrad’s confused mix of professional contentment that he’d made independent progress and resentment that he may well have lost much of it with a reckless reboot without first saving. “Would it help if I said you weren’t close?”

  “How would you know? And why’s Devlin here?”

  “God knows! Malcolm let himself into my car and told me to drive. He hasn’t said anything since, other than to direct me here.” Devlin accepted that Malcolm was too engrossed at the keyboard to contribute to any discussion, so he continued. “Of course, I was more than a little surprised when we came to visit you, but I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised at anything really.”

  Conrad’s attention was divided between more than cursory interest in what Malcolm was doing, unrestrained on his computer, and feeling obligated to explain things to Devlin. He knew much of what Devlin would have to be feeling.

  Devlin wriggled uncomfortably in his seat. “Can one of you please tell me what’s going on?”

  Conrad looked to Malcolm, still madly typing away with the screen angled so as to obscure the display to all but himself. Malcolm held up his hand to acknowledge the prompt, but continued to type one handed before removing his memory stick from the slot and rebooting Conrad’s system. “Done,” he mum
bled.

  “So what’s going on?” Devlin reiterated.

  Malcolm stood, rolled his shoulders and stretched his fingers. “Glen’s not a bad person. You can make your own mind up about him, of course, but his intentions are good. Whether you can see it or not, he’s trying to help you.”

  Devlin looked to Conrad, expecting to see a reaction to the comment, but Conrad said nothing.

  “I was a reader, like you, and I used to marvel at the messages that I would read. At first, I naïvely read, believed and applied Glen’s protocols. I expected things to happen, and I slept soundly at night, happy in the knowledge that I had done my part. I’m assuming that this is all familiar.

  “It exposes a different side of people, and I’m not just talking about what you might glean from people through reading their messages. You’ll read the confessions and the secrets and the thoughts, and it changes the readers themselves.”

  “Glen suggested that stress was going to be a big deal.”

  “At first, possibly. There’s a certain helplessness that comes from reading messages, particularly when there’s nothing you can do about them.”

  “Does anyone try?”

  “Do you like your job?” Malcolm asked, changing the subject.

  Devlin shelved his immediate disappointment at the question. “I expected a little more than career guidance from you.”

  “Do you like your job, Devlin?” Malcolm repeated calmly.

  “I’m only new in the role,” Devlin attempted to buy himself some time to assess the bias in the question. “It seems OK, but there’s no shortage of people trying to convince me otherwise.”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Tell me what you like about it?”

  “I like the money. Not wanting to appear fickle, but …”

  “Let me guess,” Malcolm interrupted. “Glen’s said ‘there’s more to life than money’. He’s right of course.”