The Remnant Vault (Tombs Rising Book 2)

by Robert Scott-Norton

  “You smashed a man’s head through a window for Christ’s sake. What the hell were we meant to think of that? You’ve admitted to wanting out of the system. You’re a walking bomb, Jack, ready to go off. It’s too risky to keep you on the team.”

  The words hurt. His stomach clenched, and he felt lightheaded. Where was all this coming from? Why come out with it now when he was in such a vulnerable position? But, there was something else. Jack could sense the resistance from Burnfield. The blocking pattern was cycling desperately.

  “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m telling you it all.”

  “There’s something else.”

  The detective frowned. For a moment, Jack thought Burnfield might just walk out and leave him to lie in his hospital bed, alone and hurting, but he was playing on his instinct. The detective didn’t want to leave without telling him. He wanted to get this all out there.

  “Moira was on Growden’s payroll.”

  “What?”

  “Alice has been digging. Since we knew that Growden had been involved in Maguire’s murder, and that they have a special telepath working for them, I realised they could have used her to murder Moira as well. We took the image of Indira and scanned the drone images from the street scenes of Moira’s death. Moira bumped into her less than a minute before stepping out in front of the bus.

  “It can’t have been coincidence. But the question remained why would Growden want her dead? Alice got permission to look into Moira’s bank account and she found the payments. They’ve been going back over a year. Ties in with our security breach. Moira must have been behind that redaction virus.”

  “Why though? What did he have on her?”

  “Moira’s mother was sick. She needed a lot of care and medical bills were eating away most of what Moira was taking home. She was looking after her own.”

  Burnfield’s head had bowed. He was looking at anywhere other than Jack whilst he spoke, and when he did finally look at Jack, the eyes were dull, lifeless. “We haven’t told the rest of the team; keep it to yourself.”

  “You think I’d do the same?”

  Silence.

  “Listen, I’m not on Growden’s payroll. Check my bank account.”

  Burnfield grinned. “I already have. I know you’re not one of his. But you’ve been leaving a trail. Taking out cash. What was in your system that morning when you smashed Jimmy’s head through the window? Was it just the noise that had been bothering you or was it a sign that you’re pissed off being addicted to the same stuff he was selling?”

  “You’ve been prying.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “You could have asked.”

  Burnfield laughed. “Like you’d admit to it. You’re good at keeping things close. Perhaps a little too close. Maybe that’s what’s got you into this mess.”

  It suddenly felt very warm in the cubicle. The detective’s gaze was tearing through him better than even a telepath could manage. He dropped his head back on to his pillow and closed his eyes, wishing he could just go back and change things. Is this regret he was feeling?

  He was interrupted from his thoughts by Burnfield’s HALO buzzing.

  “Hello… Yes… But I’ve already explained my position on that. It’s not going to happen… He’s in no state to leave the hospital anyway… You’re wrong about this… ”

  Jack opened his eye to see the detective standing stiffly, running his hands through his hair. He looked at Jack and sighed. “Seems I’ve got little say in the matter. That was Adam. He’s agreeing to see both of us. But, it has to be both of us. A car’s meeting us outside in ten minutes.”

  9:20 AM

  The doctors didn’t want Jack to leave. They were concerned that the patching up job they’d done on his eye was only temporary and leaving the hospital now would complicate things. Jack didn’t much care. He would see Adam again and this time he would get answers. He’d kept quiet about Booth Maguire’s death despite knowing he was working at Anthology Storage. Is that what being part of OsMiTech meant? That you were cut off when things became difficult to manage? On the way out of the hospital, Jack ducked into the shop and came out wearing a cheap pair of sunglasses. When he met Burnfield outside, the detective nodded, understanding why and not saying a word.

  Burnfield was in better shape than he should be considered he’d been stunned. He’d made the doctors give them both a healthy dose of painkillers, and Jack noticed Burnfield taking more than he ought to as they waited for the car to arrive. He looked grim. Unhappy that his decision not to involve Jack any more had been overruled.

  The car arrived and idled by the kerb for Jack and Burnfield to get in. With a slight groan that was almost imperceptible, Burnfield settled into the back seat and slammed the door. Jack hurried around the car and got in beside him. The same driver that had taken him to see Adam earlier that week was waiting behind the wheel.

  Without preamble, the driver pulled away into the traffic, a steady stream had been building since rush hour started. Jack looked at the time on his HALO and worried that they weren't going to make it in time. But time for what, he still didn’t know. Growden had the conceptual key and that would get him access to the Anthology Storage Unit. But what he would do when he got there was still a mystery.

  But, the question remained, niggling away at him since the attack in the morgue last night. His conversation with Burnfield had failed to make him feel comfortable. Why was Frazier Growden, a powerful man in the underworld, so interested in the remnant vault at all? He said they had something he wanted.

  “How you feeling?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll live,” Burnfield replied dour-faced. “What’s this guy like?”

  “Opinionated, driven, very much the company man. You’ll love him.” Jack smiled and wondered how the detective would cope with Adam.

  Burnfield nodded. “What’s the traffic like this morning?” he asked the driver. The woman kept her eyes on the road, ignoring the question. “Hi,” he tried again, “I said, what’s the traffic like?”

  She nodded like she was answering a different question.

  “She’s always like that,” Jack answered, again wondering why she seemed so miserable all the time. “I don’t think she’s meant to talk to us.”

  They drove on in silence. Jack’s mind was racing. He wasn’t happy. Something didn’t add up, and he didn’t know what.

  9:46 AM

  The gun felt good and solid in his hand and with only the gentlest squeeze of the trigger, another man in a suit crumpled to the floor. Once past the security features, this place was surprisingly unsecured. A man dashed out of a side room, tried to wrestle the gun from his hand. Frazier twisted his arm and threw him aside before levelling his gun and shooting the man in the face. Blood flew through the air in a crimson rain. His face was wet. The would-be hero slumped like a sack of meat.

  Looking up and down the corridor, Frazier listened for signs of any more people, but he’d been effective and the place was quiet. It was still proving difficult dealing with the loss of an eye and the stolen Nanosalve had only done so much to ease the pain. He tapped his HALO, and a projection hovered in front of his hand showing the plans of the building he’d entered and the route he needed to take. This was all proving remarkably easy. He checked the time.

  Twenty minutes.

  10:01 AM

  During the journey, Jack felt the tension knotting up his insides. They’d got here very quickly, their taciturn driver keeping quiet for the duration. Burnfield had been onto Chloe at the station, updating her and asking for an update on Frazier Growden’s whereabouts. Neither Growden nor Indira had been traced.

  “Give her time,” he’d told Jack. “She’ll find him.”

  Jack wasn’t sure he believed him. He suspected Growden had a way of keeping his location a secret.

  The car stopped and Jack leapt out, heading for the main entrance. A taste of pepper in his mind. A hint of fear? He glanced at th
e detective. Not from him. Burnfield was well past the fear now, he was riding on instinct and procedure; sure in the knowledge that his training and experience would see him through the next few hours. The painkillers would surely have helped with his confidence.

  “You coming with us?” Jack asked the driver, surprised that she’d actually left the sanctity of the car.

  She smiled. “I’ve been asked to make sure you arrive safely at your destination.” She readjusted the messenger bag she’d slung over her neck.

  The main atrium was pretty quiet and Jack spotted Adam at once, waiting by the lifts, looking over towards the entrance. Adam was facing the lift doors as they opened. His arms were folded, making hard creases in the royal blue suit he was wearing. The frown seemed to be staying and as he greeted the newcomers, Jack sensed the annoyance in the man’s mind. He made little attempt to hide it.

  “Detective Burnfield, nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand.

  Burnfield kept his arms still by his side. “Time is of the essence,” he said. Adam nodded and called the lift. Moments later they’d reached Adam’s offices and stepped out.

  Adam turned his attention to Jack, who took off his sunglasses and pocketed them. This time the hand wasn’t offered, but Jack caught a gentle probe and rebuffed it. “You’re looking—better than I expected. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “I’ve been through worse.”

  “We can always send you to the clinic. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind taking a look at that for you.”

  The frown had become more pronounced as he regarded the patch over his damaged eye.

  “It’s taken care of.”

  “Really? Well, I’m sure it’s not too late to change your mind. Don’t go making any life-changing decisions just yet. You’ve been—”

  “Please, Adam. Don’t be telling me what I’ve been through any more. I was there. I experienced it all myself.”

  Adam’s frown was replaced by his official smile. The eyes told a different story though.

  “Perhaps we could talk in your office?” Burnfield suggested.

  10:02 AM

  Frazier used the contextual key once again and the door lock chirped. The door was much heavier than it looked. He stepped through and out onto the disused platform; disused at least from its original purpose. The whole space had been refitted with modern lighting and metal steps had been installed leading down from the platform to the track. The air was cool. Ventilation fans overhead from a modern air-conditioning system directed the breeze into the wide-open space. The floor beneath, the original concrete surface. Years of foot traffic had shined the surface, so it gleamed under the white lighting. Across from where he stood, the tunnel wall curved inward, then met the ceiling before curving down behind him. Old posters, advertising shops and businesses that were no longer in operation, were stuck to the curved hoardings opposite, their colours faded, their edges torn.

  He’d been down here when the trains last ran over thirty years ago. A big change for a city that thrived on adapting.

  His footsteps clunked along the steps and down into the tunnel. Much of the power systems had been ripped out by engineers looking to make a quick buck, but even so, as he stepped over the tracks that had once carried so much current, Frazier caught himself watching his footwork diligently. Yes, there may be no power, but he decided he’d proceed into the tunnel avoiding the main rails regardless.

  The tunnel to his left was blocked, sealed by a giant brick wall, hastily finished with no attempt at tidying up the joint work. In front of that, a steel mesh fence had been erected. Frazier didn’t know what they’d done on the other side of that tunnel, but suspected they’d done a lot more than just brick a tunnel up.

  He took a deep breath, hoisted his rucksack onto his shoulder and turned to the right where the tunnel stretched away into the distance. Green lights from the lighting rigs cast the tunnel in an ethereal light. His heart beat a little faster as he walked.

  He checked his watch.

  Five minutes.

  10:04 AM

  Adam was in a bad mood. He was barely maintaining his corporate smile. The suit that had seemed to fit him so well, now hung open and casual. They were standing in his office, apart from Adam who was perched on the edge of his desk, hiding barely disguised contempt at the policeman in his space.

  “We’ve got it covered, Detective. I don’t understand why you’re failing to comprehend that.”

  “With respect,” Burnfield began in a tone that suggested respect was far from his thoughts, “I don’t believe you do. Frazier Growden is a dangerous man. You shouldn’t take him for granted.”

  Adam scoffed, “Hardly dangerous. A crank, and a criminal, but OsMiTech has dealt with far worse. His apprehension is your remit, Detective, not mine. Quite frankly, you’re wasting precious time meeting me when you’d do better out on the streets looking for him.”

  Burnfield bristled. He straightened and his face developed a hint of redness. “With slightly less respect, I think you’re underestimating what he’s capable of.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard about your run in with him at the hospital. Did your visit lead to anything valuable? Is this where you got your information about what you think Growden is planning?”

  “Tell me, does the name Booth Maguire mean anything to you?”

  Jack spotted the slight stiffening of Adam’s posture.

  “No,” Adam said a little too quickly.

  “Oh,” Burnfield said. “We know he was working for Anthology Storage. Can we look through your personnel records?”

  “Out of the question.”

  “I’d like you to reconsider that. We have strong evidence he worked here, and he knew you.”

  Adam got off the desk and walked around it before sitting down in his chair. He tapped away at a keyboard on his desk and a screen appeared above the table. “This is your man. He worked for OsMiTech—and I trust you will not reveal this outside of this room.”

  “What does it matter? He’s dead.” Jack stared at the screen. Booth’s face turned in the air, looking back at all of them.

  Adam hesitated. “Cards on the table, Detective. We know you’ve been to Booth’s house. You’ve seen the conditioning artefacts.”

  “The fractals.”

  “Amongst the rest of it, yes. All workers are required to undergo conditioning as part of our security practice. Booth wouldn’t have remembered anything of his daily work. He’d have a vague understanding that he was employed, but he wouldn’t be able to recall the details of it.”

  “Sounds like slavery to me.”

  Adam looked affronted. “No, absolutely not. He was well aware of what he was getting into. It paid well, and would have kept his family secure for life.”

  “But the price was to lose his independence. His free will.”

  “A little, perhaps. But, he made a choice that suited him.”

  “Why would anyone choose to go through that kind of conditioning? To leave behind his family.”

  Adam’s gaze flicked to Jack. “He was going to become a remnant keeper. He’d passed the aptitude tests. He was in line for surgery, but he changed his mind mid-way through the process and asked for a reversal.”

  Jack’s heart sank. “You were blackmailing him. You used his request against him.”

  The administrator didn’t look at Jack again, directing instead his conversation to the detective. “Let’s just say, that there are always people willing to forget things for a while.”

  “Growden stole Booth’s contextual key from me. He knows how to get into the Anthology Storage Unit. I think he’s heading for the remnant vault.”

  Adam frowned again. His eyes narrowed. “You’re wrong. How can he have the key?”

  “His telepath stole the information from me.”

  “How? I don’t understand.”

  “They stole Booth’s eyes and forced me to read the remnants. Growden’s telepath then stole those remnants from me.”

&
nbsp; Adam studied his fingernails. “How did you connect me to Booth?”

  “You were talking to him in his remnant.”

  “OK.” Adam closed down the spinning image of Booth and sat back in his chair, fingers clasped in front of him. “This is irritating but not devastating. You think he’s going after a remnant vault?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “What’s he after?”

  Jack had been wondering the same thing ever since Growden had attacked him. “He hates telepaths. He hates the remnant keepers even more. He said he was going to send a message. I think he wants to destroy it.”

  Adam frowned. “To what end?”

  “It would certainly dent the effectiveness of the remnant programme,” Jack replied.

  Burnfield stepped across the room. Looked out through the glass into the atrium below. “I’ve found it pays never to underestimate Frazier Growden. He’s a resourceful man. He went to a lot of effort to take that information from Booth. I think he has something planned that none of us are expecting.”

  Adam was distracted by someone in the doorway. The driver entered the room, holding the bag she’d brought with her from the car.

  “You’re not needed now, thank you,” Adam said his tone bristling with irritation.

  But she didn’t stop until she reached the desk and placed the holdall on the desk beside the administrator.

  Adam laughed. “What is this?”

  Jack crossed to her. “It’s like she’s sleepwalking.” Then he crossed quickly to the bag and carefully unzipped it. There was no mistaking what the object was. A small plastic casing from which several wires extended. A timing mechanism was counting down the last few seconds to zero.

  Jack grabbed Adam by the arm and sprinted for the exit, reaching for the driver with his spare hand.

  “Bomb!” Jack yelled at Burnfield who was already turning for the exit.

  There was no chance they would make it. There had only been seconds left on the device.