Minions

by Addison, Garrett

  * * *

  Next of kin notifications were never a high point in Police circles, and as ever, they fell among the tasks that Detective Reymond would just assume responsibility for in anticipation of formal tasking. With such a volume under his belt, he had over the course of many years become very good at breaking the news, but even more so since age had softened his appearance. He no longer looked like a junior police officer, or a grizzled old detective. Now he looked more like an old ‘friend of the family’, which married well with his seasoned but empathic manner of dealing with what was always an uncomfortable situation.

  The latest notification was nothing particularly special in an official capacity. The untimely but natural death of a family man was sad of course, but it wasn’t front-page news, and just as it wouldn’t attract media attention, it wouldn’t warrant priority of effort, particularly when the whereabouts of the next of kin was not necessarily known.

  Ordinarily Reymond would not have dropped everything to break the news on the death of family, anyone’s family, particularly with matters such as Angie and her accusations pending, and especially when finding the family was going to require some degree of effort. On this occasion, the last surviving relative was known, but technically listed as un-located, thus requiring the enlistment of at least some resources to track them down. However, never one for co-incidences, when Reymond saw the name, ‘Michael Donovan’ as the target next-of-kin, he immediately assumed that this would be the same Michael Donovan he’d interviewed the previous day following the death of David Yeardley. While he had spent his career fighting the temptation to become un-reasonably suspicious, he was still a realist. Angie would have to wait.

  Chapter - 56.

  Devlin found himself alone in the bunker, and as obligated as he was to do some work, his rudimentary understanding of the LastGasp’ system indicated that there was nothing to do. Ikel had said as much, that work would be based on changes by LastGasp’ system users, and so if no-one was changing the system then there wouldn’t be any changes to read. He explored all aspects of the user interface, and ultimately he ended up at the Research Interface, and he decided to try it once more. It didn’t seem to make any sense to retry a search for himself as he’d done before, and so he thought about what else, or who else, he could search for.

  Movement on one of the security monitors alerted Devlin to Glen’s return. He watched as Glen disappeared from one screen and re-appeared on another, clearly en-route to the bunker. Eventually the door opened.

  “There’s nothing to do,” Devlin felt obliged to announce, not wanting to appear idle in front of the Research Interface.

  Glen ignored the comment, and Devlin for that matter, sliding into a chair at one of the computers. After a few moments of typing, Glen broke his silence, but not the rate of his keyboard activity. “Ikel’s left, and Lori’s heart isn’t in this.”

  The stress in Glen’s tone was not lost on Devlin and he sat patiently waiting for Glen to continue. “Anything I can help with?” he offered, but the offer was ignored and he returned to his wait, hopeful that Glen would eventually provide some clarity. The wait dragged on for a few minutes before Glen pushed off from the keyboard with a pensive look on his face.

  “You’d think that it would be simple to find employees, but it is more difficult than you’d imagine. The right people, at least, are surprisingly difficult to find. People like you are few and far between and it takes work to find them. I’m down to one reader, you, and I know that you’re considering jumping ship too.”

  Devlin didn’t bother denying the comment. “Why did they go? Why do they go?”

  “To answer that wouldn’t help my predicament now, would it?”

  “Not that I’m thinking of leaving,” Devlin began. He knew that he wouldn’t have convinced anyone, but Glen smiled subtly for the attempt. “But why the big deal for readers if everything essentially looks after itself? Why the urgency? Why not just sit back and take your time to find the right people?”

  Glen was quiet for a moment, thinking. Eventually, he settled back into his chair and relaxed his shoulders. “What have you seen and learnt these last few days?”

  “I’m assuming you mean work related?”

  “Just answer the question,” Glen made it clear that he would not be tolerant of any of Devlin’s delaying tactics. “And please don’t dwell on the unfortunate passing of David.”

  “Alright. I’ve read masses of messages, seen bleeding hearts and guilty memories, and frankly nothing that’s changed my life.” Devlin deliberately fired Glen’s own words back at him.

  “I think you’ve learned more than that.”

  Devlin started to recap on his recent history, looking to find whatever it was that Glen wanted to broach. “Whitely said …”

  “I don’t care about Whitely!” Glen interrupted.

  “Conrad thinks …”

  “I don’t care about Conrad!” Glen interrupted once more.

  “I don’t care about you, Glen! What do you want me to say or do?” Devlin wasn’t angered so much as frustrated at the interruption and the fact that he was clearly missing something important or obvious to Glen.

  “I’m tempted to go, not because I really want to, but because I don’t want to end up like Whitely or David or any of the other readers who seem to have met with an early demise. I appreciate that their deaths are, more than likely, not directly caused by you, but when you look at it from my side, LastGasp’ doesn’t look like a good option.

  “Whitely told me to find Malcolm, and essentially that our meeting wasn’t purely by co-incidence.”

  At this, Glen stopped typing. “I needed you Devlin. I still need you and it would be a concern for you to go. I also don’t want you to go.” He pushed off from his keyboard and edged his chair closer to Devlin. “I know you’ve been honest with me and you haven’t told me anything that I didn’t already know. But I appreciate your effort to convince me.”

  “You haven’t convinced me as to whether my concern is founded.”

  Glen thought for a moment before scanning the nest of security monitors. He closed his eyes and breathed a few slow calming breaths. “Devlin. You and I are not dissimilar. You have trust issues, well founded trust issues I might add, but that’s largely irrelevant. And you’ve got a good heart. And it’s your good heart that has betrayed your cynicism. I know about your interest in Angie. And before you go getting all defensive, this is a good thing. This is what I knew would happen. This is what I wanted.”

  “So me taking an interest in Angie is good,” Devlin thought for a moment. “And how’s this different from David’s interest in Tania’s brother?”

  There was no surprise on Glen’s face as he spoke. “I can’t tell you definitively what was going on in David’s mind, but I can guess. I’d prefer it if we left it at that. Would it help if I said I expect you to do what’s right? That’s why I employed you, and that’s why I need you to stay.”

  “So who’s Malcolm then?”

  Glen thought for a moment, as if considering whether disclosure was warranted. “He was a Reader.”

  “So why all the mystery about him?”

  “We had a difference of opinion.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s not supposed to ‘mean’ anything. It’s just a statement of fact and I’m sure that you’ll work it out eventually. Do what you need to do. There’s nothing here that won’t keep until you get back.”

  Chapter - 57.

  Devlin left the bunker and headed for the street. His plan was to get a decent coffee, but thereafter his plan was decidedly limited. As he crossed the street, he was oblivious to the opening and closing of a car door to his rear. Only after he’d ordered his latté, to go, did Detective Reymond make his presence known, ordering his own coffee. Devlin acknowledged the Detective but said nothing.

  “I’m actually not here to see you,” said the Detective. “I’m looking for Michael Donovan. I kno
w you’re driving his car, so it’s reasonable to expect you to have an inkling you might know where he is.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help. I don’t know where he is.”

  “So where are you going?” Reymond enquired.

  “I don’t rightly know. I’ll let you know if I see him.”

  “That’s interesting, Devlin.” Reymond scratched his lip as he thought. “You work with him, you drive his car, and Morris at the hotel described you as Michael’s, Ikel’s, close friend. So why would it be that you’d use the term ‘if’, not ‘when’, to describe when you expect to see him next.”

  “Would you believe that I really don’t know where he is?”

  “Possibly. I’m just a little concerned, particularly given that you work for an organisation where employees die at a rate far above the norm.” Reymond took as large a gulp of his coffee as its temperature would allow.

  “I honestly don’t know where he is.”

  “So do you know what’s going on with you and LastGasp’?”

  “I have no idea,” Devlin replied earnestly.

  “I believe you. What’s happening here precedes your arrival on the scene. You’re just the latest.”

  Reymond slipped into a more comfortable but formal mode. “What I do know is that Donovan’s uncle died today. Nothing suspicious, just a heart attack apparently, but now I know that virtually all of the names on your list are now dead. Call it a duty of care or what you like, but I’m obligated to take an interest.”

  “So how many of them are dead?” Devlin enquired with genuine interest.

  “All but three, including Whitely.”

  Devlin reached for the list from his back pocket and scanned the contents. He looked top to bottom over the names, and then bottom to top. “Malcolm isn’t on the list!” Devlin couldn’t hide his puzzlement.

  “I’ve shelved my interest in Malcolm for now. I’m actually looking into the whereabouts of your friend Ikel. This might affect you too.”

  “You don’t understand. Malcolm isn’t on the list!” Devlin put his lidded take-away cup onto an adjacent table and laid out his list on the table for Reymond to see. “Whitely said Malcolm was a reader, but he’s not on this list.”

  Reymond verified the point, checking his own copy. “So what does that mean?”

  “I have no idea!” Devlin grabbed his coffee and drank until he was doing little more than sucking the residual froth through the lid. “But I figure Whitely will know. You might like to come with me.”

  Chapter - 58.

  Tania Wilson received the days post with a little apprehension. Not long before Tim died she received word that her landlord was selling her apartment and today was the day for the completion of the sale. As such she expected to receive a hand delivered note of some description from the new owner, realistically or not. It technically didn’t really affect her as the new owner was apparently keen to see her continue as a tenant. Though while it was nothing she could control, there was something stressful about it all. She resented that this was just an unwelcome reminder that she was just the tenant, and given the perpetual struggle to pay the rent, it was unlikely that her circumstances would improve either. This in turn reminded her that despite her brother’s passing, she received nothing from his estate and thus being a tenant was sure to be something that she would have to get used to.

  Nothing arrived by post, but sure enough the rental agency emailed her to advise that the new owner, cum landlord, would visit in the afternoon, provided that she was not otherwise occupied. She understood that the request was little more than a nicety, and that she was expected to meet the guy this afternoon. Of course, to formally set a time for this meeting was apparently too much to ask, and had she not been frantically preparing for the implicit landlord inspection, she would have been angry for the inconvenience of the wait.

  Cleaning her flat however, was not the real source of her stress. That her sponsor cum friend, Cat, was not even answering her calls was the final demoralising blow. Her ally, someone who understood her completely, right down to similar mistakes, regrets and circumstances, was abandoning her too. For the first time, she felt that she was entirely on her own. She didn’t have the support of any family, let alone friends, even from afar. It was an emptying thought.

  Chapter - 59.

  Devlin sat uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat of the Detective’s car as before. He’d left Ikel’s car in the car-park, hopeful that Ikel would return to claim it, but the more he thought, the more concerned he became. “Why are you looking for Ikel?”

  “Like I said, initially, I just needed to pass on some bad news to the listed next of kin of his uncle. Had it not been for our meeting the other day, I would have needed to search for your friend, given that he’d all but disappeared as far as his uncle apparently knew.

  “Anyway, I still needed to do some checking. The fact that he wasn’t technically earning an income, as far as his money trail was concerned, interested me. He described himself, as did you, as essentially an employee of LastGasp’, and that made me wonder where his money was coming from. I’m not necessarily distrustful, but I thought his past might not be entirely behind him, in which case perhaps all of the LastGasp’ employees are implicated in the same way. When I checked all of the names on the list we discussed earlier, it was clear that something wasn’t right.”

  “How so?”

  “I know you have concerns, whether or not you’re prepared to share these concerns with me is another matter, apparently, but don’t play me as stupid or yourself as naïve. I’ve been in this game for too long to be played by amateurs.”

  Chastised, Devlin kept quiet. “I’m interested why so many former employees are …”

  “They’re not all dead!” Devlin interrupted.

  “Actually, I was going to say that it was odd that so many of them are so unfortunate. But your version is perhaps more appropriate. It also explains your edginess.”

  “I don’t think Whitely is big into visitors,” said Devlin, changing the subject. The fact that Reymond didn’t question the comment was puzzling. “You know him?”

  “It was a long time ago, but I couldn’t forget Whitely.”

  Chapter - 60.

  The massed blooms of Whitely’s neighbours gardens offered promise as Reymond and Devlin walked past, but the reality was that his house smelled significantly worse in the early evening. He braced himself and tried to exert whatever control he had over his senses, but he feared it wouldn’t help. He considered briefing Reymond about what to expect, until he saw the Detective up-end an entire container of breath mints from his pocket into his mouth as he walked through the garden. He fell in behind Reymond, allowing the Detective to take the lead.

  “Hi Whitely, it’s Alan, Alan Reymond.” He announced his arrival and marched down the hall, pausing only for his eyes to adjust to the changing light rather than waiting for an invitation. Devlin gingerly followed, buoyed only after hearing Whitely’s reply, even though the reply wasn’t friendly.

  Whitely was exactly where he’d been when Devlin saw him last. “I’m interested you’re here only because you’re here with the Detective,” Whitely took his aim at Devlin, ignoring Reymond.

  “I got your message about Glen,” Devlin answered. “But that’s not why we’re here.”

  “You know a lesser man might have worked out what I was saying before he left.”

  “OK,” Devlin accepted. “So why didn’t you say that Malcolm started LastGasp’ with Glen?”

  “It wasn’t relevant.”

  “Whitely,” Reymond tried to deflect the sniped responses. “What can you tell me about Michael Donovan, otherwise known as ‘Ikel’.”

  “Not a lot,” Whitely replied, his focus still fixed on Devlin. “But can I prevent a mass of bullshit questions and pointless provocation by saying up-front that I won’t help you interfere with anything that doesn’t need to be interfered with.”

  “You’d appreciate that comments l
ike that make me think that I need to ask. I can fix whatever it is that …”

  “If it’s not broken, it doesn’t need to be fixed.”

  “David Yeardley’s death seems to be only the latest in a long line of anomalies.”

  “Anomalies? What shit! You were both at the scene, and while the monkey here mightn’t know better, you, Detective, do.”

  “The coroner’s report hasn’t been finalised.”

  “You know full well that David’s death was a suicide.”

  “But why?” Devlin asked, finally finding a voice.

  “We’ve had this discussion before Devlin, but we’ll entertain the Detective if you like.” Whitely yawned. “I can’t vouch for why David would kill himself. That much might have died with him.”

  “Perhaps yes. But it seems that he prepared a message to be sent after he died,” said Devlin.

  “Who did the message go to?”

  “I would have thought you’d be interested in how we know this, or perhaps what secrets were revealed?” Reymond probed.

  “You’d be wrong. Who did the message go to?”

  “The message went to Tania Wilson,” said Devlin. When Whitely darted a look to the Detective, Devlin interpreted the silence as a cue to continue. “She’s the sister of a guy, Tim, who was killed.”

  “How unfortunate,” Whitely smirked. “What did the message say?”

  “Not a lot. David clearly felt some sadness over the brother’s death. Others might have described it as guilt, but I wouldn’t know.”

  “Give yourself some credit, Devlin.” Whitely closed his eyes and stretched his arms towards the ceiling. He looked at his watch and then paused to think for a moment. “How about I ask you a few questions? And sorry Detective, the offer doesn’t extend to you, but I’ll let you sit in.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “First question. Why are each of Glen’s employees different?”