by Malcolm Rose
“Yes.”
“They’re put out by The World Church of Eternal Vision,” Luke said, reading from the small print. “Do you know anything about it? I think you do.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I read them and, well, they’re so right,” said Luke, faking it convincingly. “Especially the bit about Pairing Committees.”
Rachel looked at him suspiciously.
Expecting her to be aware that mobile aids to law and crime could not lie, Luke turned towards Malc and asked, “Am I known to be dissatisfied with Pairing Committees?”
“Confirmed.”
Less edgy, Rachel asked, “How did you find me?”
Luke almost kept to the truth. “Someone told me where the Church met. I went to Russell Plaza, found a few biological samples and, after a bit of forensic analysis, your name cropped up. So, here I am. That’s a perk of being an investigator.” He looked around the unfussy room and, seeing a pushchair and toys, smiled and said, “You’ve got a baby. You’re young for that.”
Rachel became jittery again and did not reply.
“Just an observation,” Luke said. “Don’t worry. I’m not chasing unlicensed children – or members of the Church. Malc, am I under instruction to investigate Visionaries or unauthorized births?”
“No.”
Rachel said, “The kids aren’t mine.”
“More than one?”
“Twins.”
Luke nodded. “Ah. Of course. They must be your sister’s. Sarah, wasn’t it?”
“How do you know that?”
“When your name came up on the system, it gave me a file on you. How are the twins? Okay now?”
She waved towards one of the doors. “Fine. Asleep, for the moment.”
“I’m sorry about Sarah. What happened to her?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel answered, shuffling uncomfortably in her chair. “They said she’d been bitten by a snake.”
Luke was surprised that she didn’t seem more upset. “She didn’t manage to get to a hospital.”
Rachel drew back as if the thought of a hospital filled her with dread.
Luke noted her reaction and decided to change his angle of attack. “You’ve got a good place here.”
“Visionaries are very caring. They look after me and the boys. That’s how come I’ve got this flat.”
“What do you think of Thomas’s Hospital? The twins would’ve had a different life if they hadn’t been separated.”
Rachel hesitated and then said, “God wanted them to live as one, to wear the same skin. Sarah should’ve respected that.”
Luke sat on the edge of his seat. “You know, that’s exactly what I think.” He was getting the impression that Visionaries did not approve of the medical profession. Encouraging her to say more, he shook his head and muttered, “Doctors.”
“We don’t have the right to interfere. No one does. But doctors meddle with God’s good work all the time.”
“I know what you mean,” Luke replied enthusiastically. “My father was a doctor and, when my kid sister got sick, he couldn’t help her. She died when she was a baby.” To convince her that he shared her views, he invented something on the spot. “The only time I went to a doctor – I had a growth – she didn’t help. Not one bit. It just got worse and worse till I changed my lifestyle. Then it cleared up all on its own.”
“Amen.”
Luke nodded. “But there’s something I don’t understand. If, like me, you don’t rate doctors, why did Sarah take the twins to hospital?”
Rachel sighed heavily. “I guess she broke the faith to make her life easier. Or theirs. I don’t know. But I was... ashamed.”
“Who’s the father? Is he a Visionary? What did he think about it?”
“Samuel. He... I don’t know. He said Sarah did wrong. But I didn’t see him stopping her going to the hospital.”
Luke thought that Rachel would see through him if he asked for Samuel’s full name. He decided to take a different route. “He must visit you – to spend time with his children.”
Rachel nodded. “When he can, yes.”
Luke leaned even closer to her, as if he were exchanging secrets. “You know, I’d love to come to one of your meetings. I think it’d be perfect for me.”
Rachel looked doubtful, glancing up at Malc. “I’d have to ask Ethan.”
“Ethan?”
“Ethan Loach. He’s our preacher.”
Luke stood up and shrugged casually. “Fine. I’d be perfectly happy to meet him – anywhere he likes. He’s bound to be worried about me because I’m an investigator. I understand. But I think I’ll be able to persuade him I’m genuine. I can tell him exactly why I hate pairing. Either of you can send me a telescreen message, letting me know when and where. No problem.” He handed her a card that gave his electronic address. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll pop back in a few days. Okay?” Before he made for the door, he said, “It’s been great talking to you. Thanks. You’ve really cheered me up.”
“Respect,” Rachel said.
Luke hesitated. “Respect?” he murmured thoughtfully. Then he grinned and replied, “Yeah. Respect.”
****
Standing by a streaming window in his hotel suite, Luke said, “This rain! It takes forever to arrive and then it doesn’t stop.”
“Illogical and impossible,” Malc replied.
Luke ignored his mobile. “Time for a summary. It won’t take long. The World Church of Eternal Vision doesn’t like whites, pairing, or doctors. It’d despise Owen Goode, the London Pairing Committee, Dr Anna Suleman and Sarah Toback – because she went to a doctor to save her twins. And most of them are dead. The ones that aren’t dead have been attacked. I think I know where to look for Lost Bullet.”
“There was no evidence to suggest that Sarah Toback was murdered,” Malc replied.
“No, but she was bitten by a snake and you found rattlesnake skin where Visionaries met.”
“That is an appropriate but unconvincing observation.”
“Go through crime statistics again, Malc. Look for raids on Pairing Committee chambers, doctors’ surgeries and hospitals.” Luke turned back to the window to watch the latest downpour while Malc searched databases.
“Three Pairing Committee premises in outer London have been firebombed in the last six months. Fifteen doctors’ surgeries and hospitals in the city have reported some degree of vandalism.”
Luke nodded. “Whites, Pairing Committees and doctors. What we’re seeing is not so much murder as tribal cleansing. Present it all to The Authorities, Malc. The Suleman case has suddenly got a lot bigger. Tomorrow morning, I want to be the FI in charge of the assassination of the London Pairing Committee and the attempted murder of Owen Goode and a lot of other white people. And while I’m waiting, get me everything you can find on Ethan Loach.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Call me a genius,” said Jade with a huge grin on her face.
Luke looked at the time written on the telescreen. It was nearly midnight. As soon as he saw Jade’s image, though, he didn’t feel drowsy. “I’m always calling you a genius. And you’ve got superb ears – better than Malc’s. What have you got for me?”
“A word.”
“What word?”
“You just want an answer, don’t you? You don’t want to hear my imaginative solution and how I subtracted each frequency...”
“You’re right,” Luke replied. “I’m sure you did it beautifully and I bet no one else could have done it.”
“I really should explain such a fantastic technical achievement – it’d be good for your education and sense of wonder – but I’ll just say ‘respect’.”
“Respect?”
“That’s the word behind the gunshot, a scream and the awful sound of shattering bone.”
“Are you sure?” asked Luke.
“Certain.”
“Thanks, Jade. You’re a miracle worker. But... er... was it a male or female
voice?”
Jade laughed. “Not that much of a miracle worker. By the time I’d finished with it, it was distorted to bits. If I had to guess, I’d say it was a man but you’d struggle to recognize it as human really. Anyway, you’d know the word was respect.”
****
Outside the Pairing Committee’s chamber, there were three bunches of lilies. Inside, it felt to Luke as if he were in the enemy’s camp. This was the room where he would be denied a life with Jade Vernon. It was also where Lost Bullet had stood two days ago. The table, the floor underneath and the wall behind were still stained brown with blood. “So,” Luke said, “Lost Bullet came through that door and stopped here. Exactly here. And yet he – or she – didn’t leave a single fibre or hair or shoeprint, even though it was wet outside.”
“Correct. The soles of the shoes must have been smooth.”
“He knows a bit about forensic science.” Luke let out a long breath. “I don’t suppose you’ve got details on the shoes that were stolen from the auto-barge, have you? Like, did any have smooth soles?”
“Searching.”
As soon as Luke had been assigned to the high-profile case and before coming to the scene of the murders, he’d studied the existing case notes. The only surviving eyewitness was the older of the two men on the Pairing Committee. He was in hospital, sedated, and mainly speaking gibberish. But occasionally he mumbled something about seeing only the killer’s eyes, nose and mouth.
Malc said, “The serial numbers indicate that the boat was delivering a range of adult styles. Several had soles without a tread.”
“Mmm.” Luke stood in the killer’s place and, in his mind, replayed Malc’s recording of the massacre. Thinking about the scrap of speech that Jade had rescued, Luke asked, “Rachel said ‘respect’ when I spoke to her, didn’t she?”
“She said ‘respect’ once and ‘respected’ once,” Malc answered.
Luke nodded. “Interesting. I wonder if all Visionaries say ‘respect’ a lot.”
“Not known.”
“I don’t suppose you can use your electronic voice-recognition system to compare the bit recorded in here with Rachel saying ‘respect’ in her apartment, can you? What are the chances they’re the same person?”
“Valid comparison is impossible. The speech recorded in here is too poor in quality and too brief.”
“Thought so. If Jade had trouble with it...” Luke shrugged and walked to the doorway where he’d seen a shadowy reflection of the assassin. “I know what’s in the case notes, Malc, but using someone else’s data is like running in someone else’s trainers. Not to be trusted. I want you to do the sums. Compare my height with the door and then Lost Bullet’s. Give me your best estimate of his height.”
“A crude comparison suggests that he or she is the same height as you. However, Lost Bullet may well have worn headgear, and the thickness of the soles is unknown.”
Luke nodded. “So, he’s my height or a bit shorter, certainly not taller.”
“Logged. However, I should point out that few people are taller.”
“Hmm. Does your information on Ethan Loach include his height?”
“His adult dimensions are not recorded,” Malc replied.
“I asked The Authorities to hide an agent in Cranleigh Walkway, near Rachel Toback’s house. Has that happened yet?”
“Confirmed.”
“And?”
“What do you wish to know?”
“Do I have to spell it out?”
“No. Just saying the words will suffice.”
Luke grimaced. “Sometimes, I could strangle you.”
“That would not be possible.”
“All right. I give up. Has there been a sighting of Samuel? He’ll be a couple of years older than me, I guess. If he called on Rachel, how tall is he, and did the agent follow him home?”
Malc was silent for ten seconds and then reported, “There has been no communication.”
“Okay. I’m done here. Let’s go.”
Back at Thomas’s Hospital, Luke asked Alex Foxton and Dr Coppard if they knew anything about Visionaries but neither of them had even heard of The World Church of Eternal Vision. Alex had received some anonymous telescreen messages that ranted about meddling with God’s creations. They also contained death threats but Alex had simply deleted them and got on with his life.
Luke spent the rest of the day visiting the surgeries and homes that had been damaged recently. Because the crimes weren’t fresh and undisturbed, Malc found no evidence that could be entered into case notes. Luke interviewed the people who worked or lived in the targeted buildings but came up with only one significant new fact. Two surgeries had been attacked at exactly the same time. That meant Lost Bullet was not alone in conducting a campaign against doctors.
****
The razor felt light but sharp and empowering in Lost Bullet’s hand. Sitting naked in his bathroom, he crossed his legs and began to work on the left. As the blade scraped upwards slowly from the ankle, it sliced every hair, leaving his leg gloriously, silkily smooth again. Lost Bullet didn’t care how long it took to prepare himself. There was something so satisfying about becoming clean and ready. The slower and more methodical he was, the better he liked it. When he was satisfied, he uncrossed his legs and put his left foot back onto the tiles, momentarily wincing with pain. He held out his left arm and began to shave it from the backs of his fingers up to his armpit and shoulder.
The preparation for carrying out God’s will required him to revert to a childlike state. He was erasing every hair from his body – converting himself from a man into a baby – and stripping away adult sin to regain an infant’s innocence. He ran the fingers of his right hand along his left arm. The shaved skin smarted slightly and it had lost all of its roughness. He switched the razor to his other hand and began to cleanse his right arm. While he concentrated on the surface of his skin, making it perfect, he also worked on his state of mind. By the end of the lengthy process, he would be pure of skin and pure of thought. It was the ideal condition for murder.
He peered into his huge bathroom mirror, inserted the tweezers into his right nostril and, one by one, plucked out every single nose hair that had started to grow once more. Then he cleared his left nostril as well. He didn’t even wince. He needed the pain to purify himself. Next, he pulled out the few tiny hairs that were just beginning to burst through the soft skin of his eyebrows. Then he lathered his chin, cheeks and head, and took up the razor again.
When he had eliminated all of his body hair, he had still not finished. He clipped his fingernails and toenails right back to the skin so that filth could not get underneath them. After that, he treated himself to a long scalding shower.
He emerged as a new man. A newborn really.
All that remained was to dress himself in brand new clothes. New pants, socks, shirt, trousers, coat, shoes. Like his thoughts, everything was clean and unspoiled by life.
Lost Bullet was ready.
****
Dr Pollitt scrubbed his hands thoroughly with antibacterial soap, dried them and then stretched the medical gloves over his fingers. “You know,” he said to his nurse, “it occurs to me that surgeons should take up a life of crime.”
“How come?”
“Sterile and dressed like this – to stop contaminating patients – we’d be brilliant at not leaving a single clue.” He pulled his mask over his face and, from behind it, added, “We wouldn’t contaminate a crime scene with a single hair, fibre, spit, blood, anything. We’d be a forensic investigator’s nightmare.”
“But you might be noticed, walking around like that.”
Inside his mask, Dr Pollitt sniggered. “That’s a point. Anyway, the patient’s waiting. Let’s get on with it.”
Dr Pollitt turned to head for the operating theatre but stopped in his tracks.
Behind him, a window of the Hammersmith Fertility and Abortion Clinic shattered. The barrel of a rifle poked through the broken glass like a
hypodermic needle pushed through skin.
The first bullet flew into the nurse’s cheek, hit the thick bone at the base of her skull and virtually exploded. The flattened bullet carved a track across her brain, twice the size of the slug of metal. The energy from the impact made the walls of the channel vibrate, destroying the delicate tissue. The mangled bullet emerged on the other side in a cloud of blood and splintered bone.
Dr Pollitt could see nothing beyond the window. Maybe he was in shock, maybe the darkness outside hid the killer. More likely, he was transfixed by the rifle’s barrel as it swung towards him and pointed directly at his forehead. The last sounds that he heard were a muffled cry of, “Respect!” and a loud bang.
Chapter Fifteen
There was little to be learned from Lost Bullet’s latest killing spree. This time, Malc did find two empty cartridge cases near the broken window of the clinic but they didn’t add anything to the investigation. They were a very common make – too common to trace. Matching the ones found in the Pairing Committee room, they confirmed only that Lost Bullet had not switched to a different weapon. If there had been a flowerbed beneath the window, the assassin might have left a shoeprint in the soil. But outside it was all concrete, decorated with two poignant bouquets of lilies. There was no other evidence of Lost Bullet’s devastating visit.
Hands on hips, Luke stood in the entrance to the fertility clinic and said, “He’s targeting the same sort of prey with the same rifle. That’s your lot.” He shook his head in frustration. Deciding what to do, Luke added, “Right. I don’t have time to wait for Ethan Loach to get in touch. I’m going after him.”
“There is no need,” Malc announced. “I have just received a message from him. He has agreed to come and see you briefly at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Luke nodded. “Good. Tell him we’re at the Central Hotel.”
****
Luke felt a shiver of pleasure when Jade’s round face appeared yet again on his telescreen. A few unruly patches of blue had appeared in her bronzed hair. For once, though, her dark eyes were not shining.