by Robert Wilde
It would be difficult to describe the voice they now heard as human, although it undoubtedly was. It would be impossible to describe it as coherent, because they were listening to something choppy, fragmented, torn about. In fact torn was the best word, as if someone had taken a conversation, ripped chunks out and glued mud spattered remnants together.
“Is that your father?” But Dee was frozen, face paler than usual, mouth open. “Dee, Dee are you alright?”
“My Dad. That’s my Dad. What’s happened to him?”
“It’s really not the machine, everything is checking out.”
“I didn’t break it then?”
“No.”
“Bugger.”
“That’s not nice,” and Joe put his hand protectively on the machine.
“Turn it off. Turn it off and let’s go home.”
Dee had driven stoically all the way home, dropped Joe off with his machine at his home, gone home, got into the shower, and then only then allowed herself to start weeping. All those years, all those visits to psychiatrist after psychiatrist, as if someone was keeping tabs on her, to try and sort her fucked up head out as she’d grown into, well, whatever set of labels they applied now to what she’d become, and all those pills and threats to shock her brain. All of that, and she’d finally got what she’d always dreamt of: a way to speak to her father. A way to cut through her faulty head and get back to source, get back to Dad telling her what was happening. All that, in her hands, and then something she had never once dreamt of: her father was damaged. Not just dead, not just a ghost but actually damaged. Unable to talk, say anything coherent, just flashes of words and then confusion.
It was worse than finding out that there weren’t souls, and not just for the coming and going of hope. It was worse because it meant her father was a broken thing, and that whatever had killed him, something she already knew was horrible enough to lock itself away in her mind, had damaged his soul as well. What the fuck sort of thing did that? Was there some spirit crunching demon thing out there hunting for fathers? But that wouldn’t kill a body. And still no answer to the question, the most painful question of them all: what killed her father and let her live? Why was she alive and he was dead? Why not the other way round? You’re brought up to believe people are after kids, not that adults are really at more risk.
Dee leaned her forehead against the tiles, which felt cold on her skin. The water poured down on her head, always hot, and streamed down her body. What now? What do you do when you’ve run out of options long ago, found a surprise new one, and had that taken away too. No point speaking to the dead, she might as well chuck her books. No point in anything. Just get up, do your shitty job, and have a hole in the back of your mind.
Right, that sorts it, she was going to get very drunk on cheap lager and expensive spirits, pass out, and pray for the world to end in an apocalypse. Then, only then, would she find the peace which was all she’d ever wanted.
Joe had got to bed late, passed out immediately, and assumed his alarm would wake him the next day, at which point he’d have to drag his tired body into work and get through the day like a zombie. He didn’t think Scott would accept ‘I had to drive in the unknown for testing with a woman I’ve only really spent an afternoon with’ would be a great way of delaying his arrival. Unfortunately, or fortunately as it turned out, Joe found himself waking naturally, feeling quite recharged, and it took a look at his alarm clock to see how long he had left.
It said ten o'clock, which was a good few hours after he was supposed to be at work. Cursing, he realised he’d been too tired to turn the alarm on, and so wasn’t now a zombie but wasn’t exactly on time. Sighing heavily he climbed out of bed, washed and dressed at speed, and came into his kitchen. No time to have breakfast, and he’d have to miss the lady at the cafe as he dashed into the lab. Bugger.
What was unusual was he found a message from Monroe as he checked his phone, just the one, asking ‘Joe, did you come into work today?’ The recipient shot back a quick ‘sorry, I’m late, there soon’ and hopped in the car, only briefly pondering why Monroe would ask this, today, when he never had before. A text from Scott asking where the machine was, that was the expected, but Monroe? There seemed only one conclusion: he was in a lot of trouble, and Scott had escalated the machine’s absence. Buggeration.
But there was still a car drive into work to do before he got shouted at, and he decided to focus on something more pleasant: an evening with Dee. Okay, it had been a very awkward first date, and it probably didn’t count as a date unless you were very desperate, and he was, but Joe had really felt the start of a connection between them. Well, in between the theft issue and the whole ‘my father’s ghost is shredded’ problem, but if you removed those outliers you definitely had a shared experience. And isn’t that what brought people together, doing things together?
Best not ask her out again for a little while. Maybe after he’d got whatever new job he’d have to when he was fired in a few minutes.
Joe realised he’d forgotten to turn the radio on, but noticed a plume of black smoke reaching into the sky in the distance. Odd, a fire of some sort. But then the radio was on, and now mostly ignored as Joe continued found thoughts turning back to Dee. A lovely woman really, if light fingered.
Feeling like his time employed was ticking down at the speed of his car, Joe turned down the road with the lab and got closer to the entrance. Whereupon he realised the thick black plume of smoke, which had been getting closer, was coming from the science park. From the labs. From his lab. Fire engines and ambulances were all around and service personnel were running backwards and forwards.
What the fuck had happened?
Leaving the machine in the passenger footwell, Joe jumped out and dashed over to a small group of white coated people sitting round the back of an ambulance. Jane and several other of the lab team were there, silent, pale, a couple with marks on their face like they’d been struck.
“Are you alright?” Joe shouted as he neared them.
They all rose, hands out, and touched Joe as he got to them. “Oh thank god you didn’t come in today,” Jane said, eyes filled with fear.
“They had guns,” one of the scientists said.
“Gu… Jane, what’s happened?”
“We were raided. That’s the only word for it. Raided. A group of people, maybe men, with masks and explosives. They took the professor, took the machine, then destroyed everything.”
“They had guns,” came the shocked reputation.
Very aware that he had the machine in his car, and that in the confusion everyone thought these gunman had the machine, Joe began to grow both afraid and pleased. So their work had survived, thanks to Dee. But there was a bigger issue.
“Who were they, why did they take Scott?”
“We don’t know, the police don’t know, no one knows. But they wanted our work and they ruined what was left behind.”
It seemed scarcely credible to Joe that this could have happened. That their quiet lab and their small project would have caused a SWAT style raid. That they had, if not enemies, then a serious problem of espionage. Joe decided to keep the machine’s survival a secret.
“Monroe wants to speak to you.” Jane said it as an afterthought, because it was.
“I’ll go check in, then I’ll get you all some coffee.”
As it turned out, Monroe wasn’t telling Joe off. In fact the former had simply been trying to work out if the latter had been kidnapped too, and it seemed to Joe that he might have been if he’d got up at the right time.
Having delivered coffee to the science team, and checked the other workers were alright, it was clear there were no fatalities pending the location of Scott. Just a lot of fear.
“Joe!”
If it was meant as a shout if didn’t sound like one, but he recognised the voice and saw Dee coming through the vehicles towards him.
“Are you alright?” he asked, “you look awful.”
“Y
ou know how to reassure a woman.”
“Oh, err,” yeah, perhaps not the best start.
“It’s alright, I’ve got a killer hangover. I felt no option but to get hammered last night.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have stayed with you.”
“So you could take advantage of me?” She said it half smiling.
I could have taken advantage of her. No, bad Joe, bad. “Just to make sure you were alright.”
“I appreciate the thought, but it looks like I’m not the one with the problem. What happened?”
Joe explained as best he could, and Dee nodded gently along to each point. “So,” he said to conclude, “it looks like you saved the machine. And me.”
Dee now smiled more fully. “So you owe me, let’s remember that.”
“Actually I think it means we’re even.”
“Guess again. You could be being tortured as we speak.”
“Poor Scott.” Dee was impressed by how worried Joe looked.
“And the police have no leads?”
“Not yet.”
“Hmm,” and Dee pondered things, “how many people knew about this machine?”
“Not many. A handful.”
“And could anyone in the lab be a double agent?”
Joe looked behind him. “Always possible I guess.”
Tapping her nails on the car to her right, Dee had an idea. “I’ve got a lead.”
Joe turned back quickly. “What sort of lead?”
“I knew about the machine, yes?”
“Well, yes, because you came to the l…oh. Oh I see.”
“Someone rang me up, then emailed me all your documentation. Someone with access to your lab was leaking me information from your lab. Did they leak it elsewhere?”
“Who did it?” It seemed to Joe like they had a traitor suddenly in their midst.
“I don’t know, but I have leads to go and find out.” Then Dee took a decision. “Are you going to stay here and sort through things, or do you want to come with me while I dig into this?”
“I’ll come with you.” He didn’t even say it out of lust, this just seemed the best way forward.
Both turned, and received a hell of a surprise. A woman was standing there, the same height as Scott, a touch thinner, with long black hair and a stylish long black coat. Her eyebrows curled round her eyes. She’d obviously been listening in, but this didn’t bother Joe as he’d come to a conclusion.
“Doctor, you’re free!” He exclaimed dashing over, “but why are you dressed as a woman?”
There was a pause, as the Professor’s face went from surprise to anger to striking you down with sheer visual venom alone.
“I’m Professor Pohl. I’m Scott’s sister.”
Dee put a hand up to her forehead and sighed. “Well that became awkward quickly.”
“Oh, err, sorry. I didn’t realise Scott had a sister.”
“He didn’t mention me?” She seemed hurt.
Realising this was going very wrong very quickly, Joe tried a different tact “did Monroe contact you?”
“Yes, he told me something bad had happened so I rushed here. Very strange, first time I’ve been out of Cambridge in about six years and I find a disaster.” Dee tried to stop herself raising an eyebrow at this, but failed.
“You’ve not left your city in six years? Are you sure you’re not medieval?”
“It’s a nice city. Busy. And I heard what you were saying. Gunmen, my brother gone, you having his legacy in your car. Something about ghosts that on any other day would have me label you insane.”
“Ah, another scientist?” Joe asked, thinking her antipathy was because of facts.
“No,” she said as if everyone should have known.
“What are you a professor of?” Dee asked, apropos of nothing, just curiosity.
“Classical literature.”
“They have people talking to ghosts” Joe tried.
Pohl looked confused. “They have Gorgons.”
“Fair point.”
“I’ve met a few Gorgons,” Dee chipped in.
“I still look like my brother then?”
“Oh yes. Only with long hair.”
“Joe, word of advice,” Dee chipped in, “shut up now.” Joe tilted his head and conceded. But Dee had a thought. “Why is that even a question?”
The two women looked at each other, one bemused, the other slightly ashamed. “I’ve been busy. I’ve been immersed. I don’t see people that often from outside my campus.”
“I know how that feels,” Joe tried to worm his way back in.
“What about Christmas?” Dee asked.
“My children use a video link on the web.”
Dee had the strongest feeling she was talking to a mummy that had just come out from a pyramid after several thousand years alone. A smart, attractive older mummy, but a mummy nonetheless. And while she was trying to sound like her life was the most normal thing in the world, there was a slight timbre in her voice that revealed she knew how cold it all sounded. “Divorced?”
“Yes. He said I was too into my work. I thought that’s what women said to the police. And are you always so inquisitive about people’s private lives?”
“Yes. It’s what people like to read, sadly.”
“You’re a journalist?”
“Only notionally given the state of my newspaper.”
“Hmm. Right then, my options are to speak to Monroe and the police and then sit around, or follow you pair as you chase up this lead?”
“Err,” and Dee couldn’t see any reason not to let Pohl come along, “you’re welcome to come with us.”
“Yes,” Joe confirmed, not realising he was also a guest.
“I’d rather be active. But can we get some lunch before we do?”
Dee grinned. “You can come with us again.”
All three had arrived in separate cars, but a decision was taken that there was no point leaving them around the crime scene, so all three drove off in their vehicles to meet again at a coffee shop where they could also buy lunch. Dee knew where it was and led the way, with Pohl following and Joe acting as rearguard, although he’d come up with that word himself and the other two hadn’t bothered to point out how silly he sounded using it. This wasn’t a war film.
Soon they’d parked up, and Dee grabbed her laptop as she exited the car, and noticed that while Pohl had a bag – large, black, quite heavy – Joe was carrying the machine inside its rucksack.
“What have you got that for?”
“I’m not leaving it in the car park.”
“It’s a good idea,” Pohl agreed, so Dee nodded and led them inside.
They found a large interior that was alarmingly empty. In fact, besides the two ladies behind the counter, there were only two other people in there, both sat in a far corner.
“It’s not very busy,” Joe whispered.
“Is the food any good or have all the other customers died of poisoning?” Pohl added.
“The food is fine, the coffee is fine, the problem is the owners opened this in entirely the wrong location and so no fucker ever comes in. Except the knowing few. Which includes me.”
“Then how does it stay open?”
“I can only imagine the rent is cheap too out here.”
Soon the group had ordered from both the coffee and the food menu, and as a range of sandwiches were being toasted the group sat in the opposite, empty corner.
“So, you have a lead?” Pohl asked, before blowing on her drink.
“Yes,” Dee said, sipping it out hot, “I have the email address. And from that we’re going to find who sent it.”
“How are we going to do that?” Joe asked, as he regarded his still too hot drink.
“Well, we’re not actually going to, but I made a call on the way here. In fact, Joe, go order an espresso with an extra shot.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Joe got up, went over and ordered the drink,
as his two companions watched silently, one intrigued, the other amused. Just as Joe turned with the drink the door opened and a man came in. Black hair cut in a wave, Arab skin impeccably kept, a wiry body the result of long work, he waved at Dee immediately. Joe cottoned on, walked over and presented the coffee.
“This must be for you.”
“Espresso?”
“Yes.”
“Double shot?”
“Yes.”
A man went out and clapped Joe firmly on the shoulder. “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“Stop flirting,” Dee called out, “and come here.”
“Hello Dee’s friends!”
Soon they were all sat. “This is Nizar, he works in the technical department of my newspaper.”
“I don’t do anything more advanced than turning things off and on again” he explained.
“Actually, you do a lot more than that for some journalists.”
Nizar scratched a sideburn and looked at Joe and Pohl. “I assume from the way we’ve got two guests you didn’t mention, and that you’re leaking state secrets, that this isn’t just a friendly lunchtime chat about boys.”
“That’s right.”
“I have to be careful Dee, if anyone found out…”
“They’d cancel your asylum and send you back. I know. But this is big, people with guns kidnapping big.”
At the use of the word gun a grimace crossed Nizar’s face, but he was soon in control.
“If you don’t mind me asking, deport you to where?”
Nizar turned to Joe. “I fled the war in Syria, and was granted asylum here. The fact that being able to torment Windows operating systems is transferable around the world helped me get a job.”
“Ah, so you were a rebel?”
Nizar smiled. “No, Joe was it? No, I fled because just about each of the eighty sides in that cluster fuck don’t like gays.”
Joe mouthed his understanding, and added, “that’s one of the weirdest coming outs I’ve heard.”
Dee snorted. “I don’t think that counts as a coming out.”
“I have to ask what the weirdest was…” and Nizar waited expectantly.