Lost Bullet

by Malcolm Rose

  “Lost Bullet’s not turned up – yet,” Luke whispered to his mobile. “Is it safe for us to go in for a bit? Owen needs a break. And food, I guess.”

  “I do not sense a current danger. That does not mean it is...”

  “Yeah. All right. The riskiest bit is when we’re all together. I’ll go first and open the door. You follow with Owen after twenty seconds. Yes?”

  “Confirmed.”

  Keeping alert, Luke made his way round to the entrance. He swiped his card past the security panel, opened the door and waited. He watched a man walking along Marylebone Freeway but, with a full head of hair, he wasn’t a Visionary. And he didn’t take any notice of Luke.

  Malc and Owen appeared and Luke ushered them inside right away. To go up to the eleventh floor, they followed the same routine that they’d used earlier. In case they had summoned not just the elevator but a killer inside it, Luke and Owen positioned themselves out of sight of anyone coming down to ground level. Again, though, the cage was vacant. They piled in and Luke hit the button by the number 11.

  As soon as the contraption reached the first floor, Malc said, “Stop it at the next level.”

  “Why?” asked Luke. But he hit the button for the second storey anyway.

  “The motion of the elevator is different...”

  Malc did not have time to finish his sentence. Above them, the hatch in the ceiling opened. The man standing on top of the elevator among the whirring machinery had one foot either side of the opening. Perched on top of them, he looked huge. It seemed a long way up to his bald head. He was poking the barrel of a rifle down into the gap.

  At once, Luke threw himself in front of Owen.

  Malc did not have the time to turn and focus his laser through the roof of the cage. He calculated the quickest defence and flew upwards to plug the hole with his own casing.

  The first bullet went straight through his sensor port and demolished his movement processor. Completely disabled, Malc crashed to the floor.

  Luke looked up. Lost Bullet’s chilling face grinned back at him from the gloom. It was the smile of a triumphant man, the smile of a man who didn’t care which boy he killed first. He pointed the rifle at Luke’s chest and squeezed the trigger.

  The elevator jolted and stopped at the second floor. The gunman lost his footing and fired as he stumbled. In the tight space, the discharge sounded loud enough to shatter eardrums. The bullet went straight through the base of the elevator, a few centimetres from Luke’s left foot.

  Before Lost Bullet could regain his balance and take aim again, the doors sprang open. Luke pushed Owen out, crying, “Run!”

  There was another shot but it didn’t find its mark. Luke didn’t even look back. He knew that Lost Bullet would clamber down into the elevator but it would be a struggle for him. By then, the cage would be on its way up again. He would have to stop it on a higher level and get out before he could follow them. Luke and Owen were young and fit. They were both good runners.

  “Down the stairs! Let’s get out of here!” Luke yelled. “We can lose him.”

  Recovering from the shock, Owen shouted back, “Follow me. This is my sort of game.”

  Luke noticed that Owen’s face was even whiter than normal. But his expression told Luke that, after hours of waiting, he welcomed a race. It would pump the blood back into his cheeks.

  Luke was used to relying on Malc. Right now, he could not think of a better substitute than Owen. The boys hurtled down the stairs, trying not to go so fast that they fell. They charged out of the main door and Owen led the way across Marylebone Freeway and down Harley Corridor. They sprinted past the row of surgeries. Two of them bore the marks of The World Church of Eternal Vision: they had been burned down. Owen veered right into Devonshire Walkway and immediately slammed into a gang of four girls. The young women were so surprised that they parted to let Owen through. Luke followed, skidding on the layers of slippery brown leaves. A few seconds later, Owen went left into The Mews. The buildings on each side closed in on them with every turn. Owen was leading them deeper and deeper into the slums of London. There, they could fall prey to muggers but a lame Visionary was surely a long way behind them.

  After five breathless minutes, they burst through into Oxford Freeway. It was like emerging into the open from a narrow tunnel. Slowing to a walk, Owen said, “That’ll do. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Luke looked behind him. There was no sign of Lost Bullet and no sign of Malc either. He shook his head. Malc was only a machine but Luke hated the idea that he was lying alone and damaged. Luke felt terrible because he had abandoned an injured friend.

  “What now?” asked Owen. “Are you going home?”

  “Home? No. I can’t. The bad guy’s bound to know I’m at the Central Hotel. I’d be a sitting duck,” Luke replied. “Really, I want to go back for Malc...”

  Owen interrupted. “You’re kidding me. The bloke with the gun’ll be waiting for you. You set a trap. He sets a trap.”

  “I don’t think so but, you’re right, it’s too dangerous. I don’t have much choice. I’m going to The Authorities. They’ll send out a rescue and repair team for Malc – and people to collect evidence from the elevator.” He was going to add that he’d be out of harm’s way with The Authorities but his mind turned to the London Pairing Committee and he kept quiet. Not even a committee in its own chambers was safe from Lost Bullet.

  “You can shop your man while you’re there, now you’ve seen him. You know who he is.”

  Luke sighed heavily. “I didn’t recognize him. Without Malc, I can’t do anything anyway.”

  “You’re an investigator. You arrest people.”

  “Yeah, I arrest them but Malc has to agree there’s grounds for arresting and charging, and he’s got to record it to make sure it’s all done properly.”

  “The Authorities don’t trust you much. Strikes me the machine’s more important than you.”

  Luke nodded. “As far as the law’s concerned, yes, you might be right.”

  “Are you going to Westminster now?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “How many times do you want to be mugged on the way?” Owen said with a mischievous grin.

  “None would be nice.”

  “I’d better come, then. You want to avoid some places between here and there.”

  Luke returned the smile. “Thanks. Again.”

  At Westminster Bridge, Luke needed to go one way and Owen Goode the other. Luke had to head for the Houses of The Authorities and Owen was about to resume an uncertain life. Before they parted, Luke asked, “Why did you really help me?”

  Owen shrugged. “Likely because you made me feel important.”

  “You are,” Luke replied. Then he added, “We ought to keep in touch.”

  “Oh? How?”

  “You’ve got a clean identity card now. You can get an apartment with its own telescreen. I’ll mail you through Malc... when he’s back in action. If he ever is.”

  “All right,” said Owen. “Good luck.”

  “Yeah. And you.”

  ****

  Everywhere Luke looked in the room there was carved mahogany. The seats had plush green cushioning. The elaborate ceiling seemed to be miles above his head. Huge oil paintings of dignitaries past and present were hung on the walls. The place was so expensive and ornate that it was gross. Luke thought of Owen. For him, and a lot of other Londoners, the lavish room would be totally alien.

  Two representatives of The Authorities were reprimanding Luke for disobeying and mistreating Malc. “Because of your reckless attempt at entrapment, the man you call Lost Bullet might be completing the destruction of your mobile right now.”

  Luke defended himself. “I think he’ll have chased me for a bit, given up, and got out of the area. He’s cautious. Remember, he didn’t shoot the last member of the Pairing Committee when he heard people coming. He got out instead. I don’t think he’ll have gone back when quite a few people will have he
ard shots.”

  “Well, we’ll soon know – when the team gets to the site.”

  The other voice of The Authorities said, “Did your mobile capture an image of Lost Bullet?”

  Luke shrugged. “I hope so.”

  Arms crossed severely, the first representative snapped, “Even if it did, its memory chips may not have survived.”

  “Malc keeps a back-up on your central computer, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes. But not immediately. I’ve just checked our computer. It’s not there. If your mobile got a picture, there wasn’t time to transmit it. You’re relying on its memory being intact.” He paused and leaned forward. “Now, about your... unorthodox methods.”

  Interrupting, Luke said, “They nearly got me Lost Bullet.”

  “They very nearly got you and a member of the public shot! They certainly got a very valuable mobile incapacitated.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry? Is that all you can say?”

  “When I’ve got Malc back...”

  “If you get it back,” the bad-tempered representative said.

  The second man explained, “Your mobile may be too damaged or we may decide to dismiss you as a forensic investigator.”

  Speechless, Luke watched the two of them as they huddled together and whispered to each other. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but he knew they were deciding his fate. Luke was hurt. He thought that a consideration of his future was worth more than a few snatched minutes.

  “We are agreed. You will be reunited with your mobile or given another so you can bring this case to a satisfactory resolution. There is a condition. You will listen to the mobile’s advice and act upon it from now on. No more unorthodox methods.”

  Luke didn’t know where they’d draw the line between proper and improper. Luke himself never thought about that line. He simply did what he thought would solve a case. Even so, he agreed to the condition.

  “For now, you are suspended. You will be taken to a safe room until we have a verdict on your Mobile Aid to Law and Crime.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  He had been stripped of his rank and dumped in a safe room for the sin of being unconventional – and very nearly successful. When someone brought him a late lunch and a drink, the tiny room felt even more like a prison cell. On his own, he thought about Jade, Malc and Lost Bullet. He hoped that the gunman hadn’t turned his rage against anyone else. Luke wished he could pass the time by listening to Jade’s music but, without Malc to transmit it, he couldn’t puncture the silence. He thought about the case but, without Malc to monitor it, he couldn’t pursue it. And he wished he could talk to Jade but, without Malc to link them together, he was isolated. Imprisoned.

  Yet when the door next slid back, a mobile aid to law and crime floated in.

  Luke jumped up. “Is that you, Malc?”

  “Partly.”

  Luke could have hugged him but he didn’t because it would not have meant anything to a ball of metal. “Partly? What does that mean? I want my Malc. You’re not an identical twin, are you?”

  “Negative. In human terms, I am the same head transplanted onto an identical body.”

  “So, you survived! Fantastic.”

  “I sustained a lot of internal damage so much has been replaced, but my main processors remained operative.”

  “Your memory’s intact?”

  “It is,” Malc answered without a hint of relief or excitement.

  Luke grinned. “So, why did you say ‘negative’? I trained you to say ‘no’.”

  Malc answered, “Three logic boards had to be set to default values.”

  “Never mind. It’s terrific to have you back.”

  “I am ready for active service so your suspension has been lifted.”

  “I’m back on the case? We can go?”

  “Correct.”

  “Great.” Luke was eager to get out of his prison but, before he headed down the corridor at speed, he asked, “Come on. Tell me what I really want to know. Did you get a picture of Lost Bullet?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “Brilliant! All I’ve got to do now is match the picture with a Visionary. Should be easy. It wasn’t Kurt. Lost Bullet’s much younger. And it wasn’t Samuel or Ethan.” He began to stride down the wide corridor.

  Malc said, “I put the image through my face-recognition system and identified him.”

  At once, Luke halted. “You’ve what?”

  “I have put the image...”

  “No. You said you’ve identified him. How?”

  “My face-recognition system found a precise fit with an entry in my database. The analysis was made successful by ignoring facial hair.”

  Luke’s heartbeat leapt. He’d gone from deep depression to elation in a matter of moments. “It really is good to have you back. Who is it?”

  “Mr Morgan, the hotel receptionist. His first name is Reece.”

  “What? But...” Luke could think of several reasons why Reece Morgan could not be Lost Bullet but, as he thought them through, each one turned to dust.

  The receptionist had a full head of hair and a beard. Yet, earlier today, Owen had joked that Luke should use a false beard and hair to change his own appearance. Plainly, Morgan had come up with the same simple idea. And it had worked beautifully because Luke hadn’t recognized him among the Visionaries.

  “He’s been clever,” Luke admitted. “On Tuesday, he left a message saying he was feeling bad and he’d gone to see his doctor. No God-fearing Visionary would do that. It was a good way of putting me off the scent.”

  “Note also that his absence from the hotel coincided with the attack on the Pairing Committee.”

  Luke nodded. “Yes. I was trying to work out if I’d seen Morgan walking with a limp, but I’ve only ever seen him behind the reception desk. I’ve never even seen his legs. And then there’s Elodie, the maid. She’s the key, you know. You wouldn’t expect a Visionary to work alongside a white, but I bet he put up with it so he could get information from her. She’d have made it easy for him. Whenever she asked for time off work, I bet he’d feign an interest and ask her what she was doing. He’d soon find out where whites lived and when they got together.”

  Luke was routed to the spot in the corridor, his brain in overdrive. “Last Friday, after I joined the Church – you know, when I came back in a sweat – Morgan was already on the desk. Fast work. But if he was one of the Visionaries who left the meeting straightaway, I guess he’d have had the time to make himself a receptionist again. He’d have been at it while I was talking to the others. And when I got back to the hotel, he said something about having just arrived for duty.” Luke closed his eyes and murmured, “Morgan, eh?” Then, he opened his eyes wide. “Malc. I’ve got to go back to the hotel right now. I want you to get your nice new electrons into some databases there.” He made for the exit at speed. “Did they get a bullet out of you?”

  “Confirmed. The agents also found three cartridge cases on top of the elevator.”

  “Have they been examined?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “It’s definitely you, Malc. Still answering questions without telling me what I really want to know. What were the results?”

  “They match the bullets and cartridge cases found at the London Pairing Committee room and the Hammersmith Clinic.”

  “Bob’s your uncle!” Moving into top gear, Luke said, “Before we go back, can you plug yourself into London’s health records?”

  “I can access The Authorities’ files by radio contact in this building.”

  “Good. Search all medical databases. Did Reece Morgan have an appointment at any surgery or hospital in the last week?”

  “Processing.”

  Luke reached the door but, before he went out, he waited for Malc to report.

  “There is no record of Reece Morgan seeking medical advice.”

  “I thought not.”

  Just as Luke was about to push open the door, Malc said, �
��I will go first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Reece Morgan may be out there and you are not bullet-proof.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “I can be repaired or replaced easily.”

  Luke laughed. “Is your sense of déjà vu still in one piece?”

  “With a perfect memory, I do not have...”

  “Yeah. All right, all right. Out you go – into a hail of bullets.”

  There were no gunshots when Malc went outside and scanned the area. The bank of the Thames was alive with rats. The surge of water had probably displaced them from their usual haunts. The ambushed auto-barge had been removed and, in the centre of the flow, another heavily laden narrow boat was heading automatically for the Midlands. None of the people in view seemed to be threatening. As Luke stepped out with Malc, he felt secure again. At least, he felt as safe as it was possible to feel in London.

  “You’ve still got laser capability, haven’t you?” asked Luke.

  “Confirmed.”

  “Let’s hope, next time, you get a chance to use it.”

  ****

  Malc soon had an opportunity to fire his laser. Luke didn’t want to announce his presence in the Central Hotel so Malc burnt through the mechanism on the emergency exit at the back of the building and they slipped into the hotel unnoticed.

  Inside the apartment, Malc logged on to hotel records and searched for Reece Morgan’s duty rota.

  While Malc went through the database, Luke said, “Truth be told, I feel a bit of a fool. There I was trying to act like a good Visionary and Morgan had his eye on me all along. He must have known what I was up to.”

  Malc interrupted Luke’s thoughts. “I have cross-checked the times of all the murders, the arson at Clement School and meetings of The World Church of Eternal Vision with Morgan’s working hours. On every occasion, he was not in the hotel.”

  “Makes sense,” Luke replied. “Is he on duty now?”