Lost Bullet

by Malcolm Rose

  “No. He will arrive within the next hour for the night shift.”

  “Yeah. I suppose he will. He’ll carry on as normal because he thinks he destroyed you – and the evidence of his identity.” Luke swallowed and then added, “To make sure, he might come for me.”

  “Speculation, but well-founded.”

  Luke let out a long breath. “Right. I know where I go from here. To his house. Find his address, Malc. The hotel’s bound to have it on file somewhere. We’ll go tonight while he’s on duty here. That’ll keep me out of his sights and it’ll finish the case off if I can get my hands on his rifle.”

  “You should not contaminate fingerprint evidence.”

  But there was a problem. Half an hour after Morgan should have reported for duty, he had still not arrived at the hotel.

  Luke sighed again. “He knows we’re on to him. He’s the cautious type so he’s keeping his distance.” Luke hesitated and then made up his mind. “We’ll go to his quarters anyway. It’s too good an opportunity to wrap the whole thing up. It’s just that... Morgan could be getting his own back. He’ll know I need to search his home so he might’ve set his own trap. And I could be walking straight into it.” Luke shook his head and stood up. “Come on. An FI’s got to do what an FI’s got to do.”

  “That is self-evident,” Malc responded, “and it means nothing.”

  “It means I’m putting us in the line of fire again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was a pokey place on Tottenham Court Corridor. Luke should have guessed. It was almost certainly where Lost Bullet had dropped the piece of paper bearing the Church’s previous address and then shot at Owen Goode. He’d opened fire because Owen had caught the paper and because he was white. No doubt, Morgan had tried to follow Owen but, with his damaged leg, failed to keep up. Instead, he’d gone to Thomas’s Hospital and taken out his anger on Dr Suleman.

  The outdoor lamps provided only a little light. In semi-darkness, Luke approached Morgan’s overgrown home carefully, darting from tree to tree with Malc at his side. He’d hide behind a trunk while Malc scanned the walkway ahead and suggest the next spot that would provide cover. Luckily, Malc did not need visible light. He wasn’t restricted to a human’s narrow range of wavelengths. He also trained his sensors on the walls of the two-storey house, concentrating on the darkened windows, but he did not detect the metal of a rifle barrel among the ivy and clematis.

  Reaching the front door at last, Luke unlocked it and allowed Malc to poke around inside. After the mobile declared it to be free of adults and weapons, Luke entered. The only sign of life was a little girl sitting on the narrow staircase. Luke squatted down in front of her and said very quietly, “Do you know Mr Morgan?”

  She nodded and pointed upwards.

  Still whispering, Luke asked, “Is he in, do you know?”

  The girl shrugged.

  The door opposite the bottom of the staircase opened and at once Malc flew in front of Luke.

  The girl’s father looked surprised and even angry. Scowling at Luke, he came out, gathered up his daughter and, without a word, whisked her away and into the ground-floor apartment.

  With Malc scouting ahead of him, Luke began to climb the stairs. Half way up, they turned through a right angle. Luke did not expect Lost Bullet to be hiding round the corner because a light was on somewhere above. If Morgan planned an ambush there, he would surely have turned off the lamp. Malc confirmed that the landing was clear so Luke tiptoed to the top of the flight of stairs and then to the door of Morgan’s quarters. In a hushed voice, he said, “I’ll unlock it and push it open. Okay? I’ll stand on this side, you take the other. Then you go in and scan everywhere. If he’s in, disable him before he disables you. If he’s out, turn on the lights. I’ll wait.”

  To Luke, it seemed like cruelty. Malc had only just recovered from being shot and Luke was asking him to face the same man and the same rifle. At least Malc could not experience trauma. While Malc performed his heroics, Luke cowered behind a wall. He was no coward, but he felt like one.

  He got out his identity card and placed it against the security panel. The door clicked but stayed shut. Luke glanced at Malc and nodded before giving the door a shove and flattening himself against the landing wall.

  When the door slid back, no light shone from inside. The place was in darkness. Either Morgan was not in or he was pretending not to be at home. Malc went into the apartment and began a thorough scan.

  Outside, Luke propped himself against the wall and tried to keep his heart and stomach under control. He knew that Malc was taking most of the risks but, even so, he was anxious. Reece Morgan could have anticipated this visit. He could have worked out that Luke would wait on the landing while a repaired or different mobile searched his rooms. It struck Luke that Morgan could creep quietly up the stairs at any moment and open fire. While Malc swept the apartment, Luke kept an eye on the top part of the staircase. At the slightest sound or the first appearance of a bald head, Luke would dart into Morgan’s quarters and slam the door shut.

  When Malc came out, Luke nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “The living room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom are unoccupied. A door into another room is barred to me. An infrared scan shows that it is warmer than its surroundings. Therefore, it is a highly heated room.”

  Luke frowned. “Okay. Let’s go in.”

  The living room, bedroom and kitchen took Luke by surprise. For some reason, he expected them to be neat and tidy but they were a mess. Not lingering, he went to the final door and put his hand against it. Luke could not detect the warmth that was obvious to Malc’s sensors. The door was fastened with some sort of mechanical lock. He whispered, “Zap it, Malc. Burn right through.” Then he stood to one side and waited.

  The living room filled with the smell of burning wood and a trail of blue smoke came from the spot that Malc had targeted. After three or four minutes, the door swung inwards by a few centimetres and Malc switched off his laser.

  Malc moved against the door and slowly pushed it open. As he did so, a shaft of intense blue-white light came into the living room, making the smoke particles shimmer. The mobile had discovered an indoor greenhouse. Poppies were growing under a sunlamp and, in one corner of the room, an electric fire belted out heat. In another, there was a bench stocked with chemical apparatus.

  Luke stood in the doorway, shaking his head and smiling with relief. “This is where he cultivates his painkilling plants, extracts the morphine and purifies it.”

  “Correct,” Malc agreed. “By visual inspection, these plants are Papaver somniferum.”

  Luke turned around. “The rest of the place is a pigsty.”

  “Incorrect,” Malc said. “Pigs do not sit in chairs.”

  “Hey,” Luke replied, “that’s almost a joke. Have you got new programming – a humour chip?”

  “It was not a joke,” he said. “It is a fact.”

  “All right. Let’s get down to work. We’ll need some agents in here to bag everything up, but scan around for anything relevant, like a rifle.”

  Luke put on his medical gloves and pushed open the bathroom door. Stunned, he halted in the entrance. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it was immaculate. Every surface gleamed with cleanliness. All down the left-hand side was a dressing area with a spotless mirror that covered the full width of the wall. On the long dressing table, there were two polystyrene models of human heads, sporting wigs of black hair. In a tray, there were four false moustaches of different lengths and styles, eyelashes and even fake eyebrows. Tweezers, make-up, nail-clippers, and a shaving kit had been arranged lovingly around a picture of God.

  “Malc! You’ve got some recording to do. There might be enough in here for a conviction.”

  After half an hour of searching the apartment, Luke and Malc failed to find his rifle. They did come across a balaclava and a couple of coats with hoods. Morgan had probably used one of them when he’d attacked the Pairing Committee.
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  “Get some agents here to sort it all out, Malc, and have them seal the place. I can’t hang around. I’ve got to get going. He’s out there somewhere,” Luke nodded towards the door. “On the run with a rifle. He’s probably wandering around as Lost Bullet, not a respectable receptionist. That makes him a serious threat.”

  “You have had a message from the Central Hotel,” Malc announced.

  “Oh?”

  “You have a visitor waiting there.”

  Suddenly wary, Luke asked, “Who?”

  “Ethan Loach.”

  “Ethan Loach,” Luke repeated. “I’m not sure whether I ought to see him or not. But... I’m curious. It might be chancy but I’ll go and see what he’s up to.”

  “I must be with you,” Malc said.

  “Agreed. This time, I wouldn’t dream of keeping you out of it. Maximum defence mode.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was late – after ten o’clock – when Luke invited Ethan into his quarters. Luke did not feel like an investigator interviewing a witness. He felt more like a pupil up before a feared instructor. On edge, he said, “What can I do for you?”

  Dressed as always in a dark suit, stiff white shirt and red tie, Ethan sat down opposite Luke without being asked and drew his chair close. He leaned forward, bringing his bald head near to Luke. “Reece Morgan contacted me. He complained about you harassing him. He says you are not a true Visionary.”

  Luke stared at the carpet for a few seconds. His job at The World Church of Eternal Vision was over. He did not have to pretend any more. He looked up into Ethan’s face and said, “I’m leaving the Church. I never had faith.”

  Ethan smiled. He almost laughed. “I know. That’s why I sedated the snake.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not a fool, Luke. And I have to say you’re a brave lad. Much braver than your age. After all, you didn’t know the snake was half asleep.”

  Luke was astonished and puzzled. “Why?”

  “I suspected that one of our flock was veering from the straight and narrow. But I couldn’t be seen to doubt them all – or test them all. That would have torn us apart. I was waiting for God to send us an FI to narrow it down and help me see the light. It was only a matter of time. You were chosen to infiltrate the Church. I didn’t realize God would pick someone so young, though.”

  Luke couldn’t reply. He thought that he’d duped Ethan but Ethan had been taking advantage of him all along.

  “Is it Reece?” Ethan asked. “Is he the one?”

  Luke waved towards Malc because mobiles always told the truth.

  “No,” Ethan snapped, angry for the first time. “I want to hear it from one of God’s creations, from God’s choice. And I want to watch you while you tell me. I want to see your eyes. Is Reece Morgan guilty of murder?”

  Luke took a deep breath. “Yes. He killed three members of the London Pairing Committee on Tuesday and two medics at the Hammersmith Fertility and Abortion Clinic a couple of days later. He probably killed Dr Anna Suleman as well but I have no proof of that. He’s out of control.”

  Ethan did not hesitate. He nodded and said, “I believe you. I should have realized. A while ago, he broke a bone in his foot when he fell. It never healed properly so God was punishing him for something. Maybe he was hatching his evil plans. I should have picked up on that.”

  “Do you know where he is now?”

  “No. But I can guess.”

  “Where?” asked Luke.

  Ethan drew back and shook his head. “I will speak to him first. I owe him that.”

  Less nervy now, Luke said, “You won’t warn him off?”

  The Visionary leader stood up. “Not if I look in his eyes and see sin. No. I’ll send you a message, tell you where to go to find him.”

  “But...”

  “I’m a man of my word, Investigator Harding.” With that, he turned and left Luke’s room.

  There was little that Luke could do except wait. After all, London was a big city with untold numbers of hiding places. Reece Morgan could be in any of them. Yet Luke trusted that Ethan Loach would keep his word.

  Luke was too hyped up for sleep. He tried to contact Jade but he got only a message telling him that she had gone to a club with her northern friends. Instead of chatting to her, Luke filled the apartment with her music and went through all of the evidence for the case, checking with Malc which items were admissible. The exercise made him realize that, to be absolutely sure of a conviction, he still needed Lost Bullet’s rifle. He had little doubt that, wherever Reece Morgan was, he’d have the weapon with him.

  The idea made Luke feel guilty. He should have warned Ethan that Reece Morgan was armed. It was possible that Morgan would kill Ethan, walk away and then disappear into the sprawling squalor of the south. Yet, when Luke thought about Ethan Loach, he did not despair. He suspected that the Church leader was not the sort of man to be shot. He was too formidable. And he would show no fear because he had faith that his God would protect him.

  Luke’s mind swirled with issues of treachery and trust. He put down an evidence bag and turned to Malc. “I’m really sorry I left you in that elevator.”

  “There is no need for an apology. It was the only logical course of action.”

  “But...” Luke sighed. “But what if Owen had been shot? Would I have run away then?”

  “Insufficient information. However, an objective assessment of the situation would support withdrawal.”

  It was no use. Luke was talking about trust and Malc was restricted to logic. “It didn’t seem right to leave you. Were you hurt? I don’t suppose so.”

  “I cannot be hurt because I do not have a nervous system. You should not think of me as humanoid.”

  “I suppose there’s an advantage to being a machine when the bullets begin to fly and someone runs out on you.”

  Malc knew nothing about pain or loneliness or guilt. Equally, Luke realized, he never felt joy or togetherness or compassion. To Malc, Jade’s music was merely a sequence of frequencies at different volumes. He could not be moved by it. Jade’s face was a contoured structure that could be measured and recognized. He could not be attracted to it. Her perfume was a collection of molecules that could be analysed and identified. The smell could not trigger emotion in Malc.

  Getting back to the case, Luke asked, “Have you passed our conclusions to The Authorities?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “I hope they’re happy.”

  “They await the arrest of Reece Morgan.”

  “They’re not the only ones,” Luke replied.

  ****

  It was not until Monday afternoon that Ethan Loach’s imposing features formed on Luke’s telescreen. Eagerly, Luke jumped to his feet. “Yes? What news?”

  “First things first, my friend. I have spoken to Reece.”

  “And?” Luke prompted.

  Ethan sighed. “It seems you’re not the only one living a lie. I never knew he worked at your hotel and wore a disguise. He didn’t want to advertise his allegiance to the Church. That smacks of shame or guilt. He also confessed to murder, including the doctor last Monday. Killing is a sin, even if the victims are themselves the worst sort of sinners.”

  A confession to anybody but Malc was useless to the law. “Where is he?”

  “He’s retreated into the Church. Charing Cross Cab Station.”

  “If I go now, will he be there?” Luke asked eagerly. “You haven’t given him a reason to run away?”

  “No. He’s unlikely to move on. He’s made it his home.”

  “You didn’t let on that you’d tell me?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you.”

  “God be with you, Luke Harding.”

  ****

  The sun had gone down by the time that Luke and Malc reached the entrance to Charing Cross Cab Station. While Luke stared into the gaping hole, an empty electric cab pulled out of the waiting area to his left and took off down the ramp that led into
the tunnel under the Thames. Luke took a deep breath and turned towards the five guards that he’d requested as back-up. “I’m going in,” he said. “You stay here in case he gets past me somehow.”

  “You don’t want us to check it out first?”

  Yes, he did, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He was determined to show The Authorities that he could wrap it up on his own – with Malc, of course. He had already placed Owen Goode in danger and he wasn’t going to put anyone else in the firing line. He would do his own dirty work. “No,” he replied. “If he comes up here, trying to escape, stop him getting away.”

  “We have been cleared to use all necessary force.”

  Luke nodded and then headed down the escalator. He tiptoed while Malc glided. The way to the old abandoned depot had a different atmosphere now that Malc was at his side. This time, Luke was anxious about a madman with a rifle rather than the unknown. At the bottom of the static steps, Malc checked out the first clammy passageway. “There is no human life,” he reported. “A colony of bats is beginning to stir at the far end and there are two foxes ahead, but that is all. Shall I provide extra lighting?”

  “No. I don’t want to warn him we’re on our way.”

  The lights in the curved ceiling were enough to lead Luke through the stinking cave to the narrow subway on the right.

  Luke nodded towards the tunnel and whispered, “Is he anywhere in there?”

  “No.”

  Leaving behind the sound of dripping water, Luke started to tread carefully along the dark warren. Framed by the grubby walls on either side, he felt very vulnerable. If Morgan appeared at the end with his rifle, Luke could not get out of his line of fire. He could only turn round and sprint back to the main passage to find cover. But he doubted that he would get that far. The first bullet would floor Malc. The second would be his.

  Trying to empty his mind of everything that could go wrong, he carried on walking softly, aware that each time he put his weight on a foot, he trod on slushy litter and made a faint squelching noise. With each step, he crept closer to the underground hall, closer to Morgan’s territory, and further from safety. Subconsciously, he went slower and slower as he approached the bizarre church. His legs were faltering as his heart quickened.