Minions

by Addison, Garrett

  “So you have nothing, really. Just a mass of conjecture,” Reymond said, unconvinced. “I’ve seen the police reports and there’s nothing there.”

  “You’re not the first to doubt me,” Conrad was unfazed. “I’ve had this same discussion with many of Devlin’s predecessors.” He felt the opportunity slipping from his fingers. “Devlin just suggested that you would be more likely to listen.”

  “I’m prepared to listen, but so far you’ve only told me what I already knew.”

  “Can he see the matrix?” Devlin asked Conrad from the keyboard. “That’s what did it for me.”

  Conrad was reluctant, not that it was any more of a breach than having shown it to Devlin. In fact it was arguably less of a Police security or privacy matter showing it to a Detective. He knew that others would see a breach as a breach, regardless, though if some quantifiable good came of it, then it might provide for some justification or mitigation, if or when it became necessary. He conceded, waving his hand to coax the Detective to the computer in capitulation. He gave the same summary he’d given Devlin previously, this time mentioning departmental justification and authority. He used his fishing analogy again.

  “It’s pretty, but what does it actually mean?” asked Reymond as he perused the matrix on the screen while trying to associate what he’d heard Devlin ask Conrad from the car. “What did Devlin ask you to do?”

  “I’ve been fixated on the relationship between all of the LastGasp’ employees and Glen, or LastGasp’.” Conrad gestured for Devlin to move from his seat so that he could continue with his task. “Devlin thinks that I must be missing something because I’m concentrating on what is so obvious. He suggested that I should look at other commonalities between them. The matrix disappeared as he started to use the computer.

  “What’s happened?” asked the Detective.

  “I need to write a little code. It will be substantially faster and more efficient than mindlessly and manually comparing the matrices of everyone by eyeball.”

  “So what are you doing?” asked the Detective.

  “Alright then.” Conrad sized up the Detective to gauge the best way to describe what he was doing. “You’re obviously pre digital age, but do you remember doing set theory in mathematics at school?” As the Detective nodded vaguely, Conrad figured that his description would be understandable to him. “Well, until now my program has focussed on presenting a union of known interactions. It’s interesting to see who people know within a few degrees of separation. Devlin wants to look at intersections.”

  The Detective thought this through for a moment. “In my day we called them ‘Venn’ diagrams.”

  “As in Malcolm Venn?” Devlin said, a spark in his eyes.

  Conrad ushered the others to the kitchen. “I can’t work with someone looking over my shoulder. Help yourself to coffee. I’ll need about ten minutes.” Left on his own, he started to type feverishly.

  “Did you work out what Malcolm was doing on your machine?” Devlin asked while he sniffed the percolated coffee on offer. Conrad either ignored the question or was otherwise oblivious.

  The Detective’s interest was piqued, “Why was Malcolm here?”

  “I don’t know,” said Conrad, not missing a keystroke as he spoke. “He found me initially.”

  “So why haven’t I been made aware of this before now? Or can I assume that your interest isn’t entirely official?”

  “I’ve tried, but no-one’s interested. Conflicting priorities and that shit,” Conrad paused and looked to the Detective. “What aroused your interest?”

  “Actually, I bumped into Devlin here a little more than is likely. First at the hotel after David’s passing, and then across town. He offered to help me because we’re both interested in Malcolm.”

  “Suffice to say that’s not his real name,” Devlin felt the need to contribute. “But no-one’s told me if he’s actually done anything wrong?”

  “Legally not. Not this time, not ever. He’s a no-one,” said Reymond. “He couldn’t have done Angie over, the latest time at least, and certainly she won’t have anything against him.”

  “I’ve told you that,” said Devlin. “It wasn’t Malcolm.”

  “How can you be that certain?”

  “I told you. I saw a message from Angie, and she named the guy and it wasn’t Malcolm.”

  “It might help if I had a copy of that message. Then at least I could do some checking.”

  “It’s not like that. This was a private message that Angie has written to be sent after she dies.”

  “Who to?”

  “I don’t know, just as I have no way of printing it off if I was in any way obliged to do so. It’s only accessible from the LastGasp’ office.”

  “I could get a warrant.”

  “You could try. I’ve been told that others have tried but still no-one’s gotten in unless they’re an employee.” Devlin looked to Conrad, still typing away. “Some geek researcher could potentially get in, but me thinks that none of us would be here if that was the case and they’d actually been successful.”

  Conrad made a spectacle of waving his arms to ensure that he had his visitor’s attention. He then made a point of pressing a key with a single finger after his arm had traversed a full arc through the air down to the keyboard. “I’m done.”

  Devlin and Reymond joined Conrad looking at the screen. “What am I looking at?” asked Reymond.

  “It’s exactly what Devlin wanted. The aesthetics will come later, if I’m so inclined, but right now it’s just what he wanted. It’s a list of common interactions, people, between the list of LastGasp’ employees.” The list was empty.

  “Alright, so that doesn’t help a great deal.” Conrad thought for a moment. “But if I relax …” He tapered off into lazy mumbling.

  Reymond and Devlin kept looking on, hopeful that a result would materialise quickly. After a minute or so, they both returned to the couch.

  “How’s this?” This time there was a list of names. Conrad made a point of periodically pressing a button and the list would change to reveal more or fewer names.

  “Why’s it changing?” asked Reymond.

  “I figure that it was possibly unreasonable for anyone to be known directly by all of those in your list. Rightly or not, I relaxed my algorithm to try people known by more than one of them on the list. It might not be exactly what you asked for, but it’s certainly better than nothing.”

  “Can you make them flash?” asked Devlin.

  Chapter - 66.

  Nebojsa would never have likened himself to a shepherd ordinarily, but the fact is that he did tend his flock, of sorts. Those dumb individuals, those seeds, needed to be protected from themselves. He was exhausted by the time he returned to his home, but it could have been worse. He’d spent the best part of the late afternoon and early evening doing the rounds, but one took longer than normal to understand what he expected. The result was that there were many people that he simply didn’t have time to visit. He knew they wouldn’t go anywhere, but it was inconvenient none-the-less.

  Tonight, he felt an odd mix of emotions; primarily fatigue and disappointment. He slumped on the end of his bed, kicked off his shoes and then lay back on to the bed to recap on all that he’d learnt today. Stupid bitch, he thought.

  His visit started much like the last time, but then she got smart. He recognised her self-confidence immediately and it made him smile just to think about it. He knew in an instant that what was supposed to be a simple exchange, property for knowledge, was not going to be that simple, but he asked just the same. He asked once.

  It was then that Nebojsa learnt that leverage can be tricky with someone with no-one. In retrospect, it was odd that it hadn’t come up before. All his life, with everyone he’d learnt from, there was always something that people would value, something to trade, but this one was different. She was single, widowed, but not by him, and had no family. She had assets and up until this afternoon she had been willing to p
art with them without much coercion; he only had to ask. But then she changed her mind. Just like that, she said she wasn’t willing to complete the deal. That much was fine, and it wasn’t the first time he’d heard that kind of response from her, and others. She was so confident about it too, even bordering on arrogant. Luckily she didn’t threaten him or mention any outside help. She obviously understood the implications of involving others, but it left her wide open to being convinced, to be made to understand.

  She submitted immediately to a humble request for oral gratification, but this didn’t bring him closer to what he really wanted. An ageing woman, dentures out just in case, salivating over his cock made for some light entertainment, but it really only exposed just how much the years had not wisened her. Climax over, time had passed, the deal was still to be made, and he made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Her tears changed nothing, but it did remind him that on each of his past visits, damaging her in some fashion, regardless of the volume of blood that was spilt, while entertaining, was not going to change her mind or weaken her resolve.

  The arrival of a ginger cat at the door startled Nebojsa at first. One second there was sunlight on the glassed French doors opening onto her courtyard, the next, the cat was pawing its ‘let me in’ routine. When the woman shook her head, as if to tell the cat to go back to chasing mice or something, he saw a new flow of tears and knew he’d found his means. He invited the cat inside, picked it up and nursed it in front of the woman for a time. It was overweight and apparently not that choosy as to its human company, judging by the fact that while it didn’t purr, it didn’t moan either, not initially. It did moan later though, and it moaned a lot. He didn’t leave empty handed.

  Nebojsa was extra attentive to his personal hygiene as he showered. It had been a long and messy day, and he had two species of pussy juice to remove. He laughed that his new home and its’ language had provided such a humorous play on words.

  Chapter - 67.

  Conrad periodically looked at Devlin and Detective Reymond seated on his couch, looking uncomfortable. The seat itself was comfortable enough, but it was a two seater and invariably better suited to a couple than two heterosexual men thinking about a problem. Periodically, each would sit forward in an effort to increase their inter-personal space, but that didn’t really allow them to speak face to face. Eventually, Devlin dealt with the matter by standing. The greater problem of the lists and updated matrices represented remained.

  The lists spoke for themselves, but didn’t actually say much. The addition of the flashing, as Devlin suggested, added clarity, but it didn’t help. The larger the list of names, the greater the volume of flashing names.

  Conrad printed off multiple copies of each list and handed them out so as to enable the others to make whatever sense was possible for themselves. Forever the technocrat, Conrad himself tried to code an algorithm which he was sure would be both simpler and more conclusive than what would be possible with three sets of eyes.

  “I’m tempted to leave with what I’ve got,” said Detective Reymond. It was late and his tone was deflated. “I’m impressed of course, but maybe I’m better off returning to the station and doing my research in a familiar environment.”

  “There’s nothing at the station that I can’t access here,” Conrad said as he typed. It was true, but he was wary about drawing too much attention to the point. He hoped that the Detective might accept it, which might give him a little more time to subtly ask him to overlook the thirty five system access violations that he’d witnessed in the name of an un-authorised ‘fishing trip’. If the Detective walked out the door now, he felt that his future would walk with him.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Devlin said, much to Conrad’s relief, hopeful. “I can do better research than you can at LastGasp’.”

  “I disagree,” said Conrad, a little offended.

  “This isn’t a pissing contest,” Devlin announced. “The messages are only part of LastGasp’. There’s a whole Research Interface specifically designed to identify people.” Devlin terminated any ensuing discussion by standing and heading for the door. He paused with his back to the others, “I need a lift, Detective.”

  Chapter - 68.

  Devlin left the Detective at the LastGasp’ door and went inside. He half expected him to follow or try the ‘foot in the door’ thing, but the Detective seemed to take it in his stride, advertising the fact that he’d be waiting. He assumed that the Detective meant it to convince of his commitment, but only as he walked towards the kitchen did it occur to him that it could just as easily have been meant to intimidate.

  The kitchen and lounge were empty and Devlin proceeded directly to the bunker. He launched straight into the Research Interface and started working through the list of names. It wasn’t late and there was no real urgency, even with the prospect of the Detective waiting outside, but still he felt pressured to complete his research quickly. He tried to keep a cursory eye on the security monitors on the wall, hopeful that he would be able to avoid the appearance of secrecy if Glen or anyone else returned, but doing so only further exacerbated his stress.

  Page after page of personal information flashed past as he read as quickly as possible. The first ten minutes made for interesting reading, much like the first few minutes of reading messages, but the rest was substantially less so. Devlin exhausted his list of names and associated perusal of their information without finding what he was looking for. ‘It’s hopeless’, he thought as he rested his head on his forearms on the desk. He wondered if Conrad would have any more luck, or if Malcolm would be back to taunt him. The thought made him think of the task he’d set Conrad, sure as he was that commonality between the names would reveal all.

  It occurred to him that LastGasp’ was sure to have access to the same data that Conrad was accessing, which meant that for all of Conrad’s suspicion, he was just as capable as Glen. Using the Research Interface for the same task was worth a try. He tried a selection of the most recent names on the list and there was a delay in a response from the Research Interface, but eventually it returned a single name. Tania Wilson.

  It took a moment for Devlin to register the name, and still longer for him to contemplate what it meant. He’d expected the name of a reader, or Glen, and he felt some disappointment accordingly. He tried to ring Conrad to share his findings, but the phone reception in the bunker hadn’t changed in his absence. He decided to head for the kitchen, possibly just as a temporary staging area for his departure. He marched along the corridor, checking his phone for some visual indication that he would be able to call. He knew he could just as easily head outside where the Detective would be waiting, but for the time being he was comfortable with maintaining the distance that a phone call would provide.

  “I ask only one thing, Devlin,” Glen revealed his presence in one of the armchairs, aware that he was yet to be noticed. As ever, he didn’t look directly at Devlin as he spoke.

  Devlin couldn’t help but be a little surprised, and he knew that it showed. In his fixation in the bunker he had forgotten to watch the monitors, and while Glen didn’t look like he’d employed any stealth to enter the building, Devlin felt for how his surprise would be perceived. “I didn’t see you come in.”

  “I ask only one thing,” Glen repeated himself. “I ask only that you don’t interfere with what you don’t understand.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means only that,” Glen replied solemnly. “I know you’ve met with Malcolm. Just don’t interfere with what he’s doing.”

  “Interfere with what? I’m actually interested in Tania, and why she would come up in your Research Interface.”

  “Just don’t interfere.”

  That Glen didn’t question who ‘Tania’ was spoke volumes. “So who’s Tania?”

  “Perhaps she’s Malcolm’s acquaintance.”

  “So what does Malcolm have to do with her?”

  “Possibly nothing. I’m not his keeper?
”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Bullshit nothing. I have no control over him and he does as he sees fit.” Glen took a deep breath, as if to begin talking, but he remained silent. “Take a seat Devlin,” Glen said as he patted the arm of the adjacent armchair.

  Devlin sat as instructed, fidgeting with his phone and tapping his fingers on his chair arms while Glen watched a number of the assembled televisions simultaneously. Eventually, Devlin too started to watch, his eyes darting between the screens. The evening programming presented a cross section of news and current affairs, to sit-coms and game shows. Scanning the various channels wasn’t relaxing, but Devlin was oddly appreciative for the distraction.

  “Tell me what you see, Devlin.”

  “I see crap. I don’t see how you can take any of this in!”

  Glen largely ignored the comment. “I see potential Malcolms everywhere. But there’s only been one. Others like him are hard to find.”

  “I found him without any problem at all!”

  “Technically, he found you.”

  Glen was right. It was a point that Devlin had overlooked, and while his initial reaction was to argue the poignancy of the difference, he decided against it and kept quiet.

  “Malcolm is ...” Glen paused, as if deliberating his choice of words carefully, but couldn’t, didn’t finish. After a few moments, he tried again. “Malcolm’s a friend.”

  “If he’s a friend, why don’t you introduce us?”

  “What’s to introduce? You’ve met him. Say what’s on your mind, Devlin.”

  “I just want to know what’s going on.”

  “So does that mean that you’re concerned for yourself or others?”

  “Does that matter?” Devlin enquired.

  “It means a great deal.”

  “A bit of both probably. I’m concerned for Ikel, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned for myself too.”

  “Have you done anything wrong?”