The Colours of Death

by Patricia Marques

  ‘We can talk about this later. We have to figure out where to go from here.’

  ‘It’s not Luisa. It’s Gabriel. Gabriel Bernardo. It was all him.’

  Chapter 61

  The next day, Isabel is back at the station. She’d walked the dogs quickly first thing that morning before rushing over. The fewer people saw her walking into the precinct, the better, especially with the press poking around.

  The night before, they’d called Jacinta. She’d had to skirt the particulars and Jacinta isn’t stupid, knew that Isabel was holding something back but didn’t push. She’d agreed to have the team comb over all the information anew, searching for any connection to Gabriel Bernardo.

  She follows Voronov and Carla over to where a laptop is connected to the smartboard, a calendar displayed on it.

  ‘Soares’ laptop turned up something interesting.’

  To anyone else, Voronov probably looks the same, but Isabel can see the line of tension that had been there all throughout their trip back from the hospital the previous night.

  Isabel takes a seat and sniffs. She’d woken up with a telltale scratch in the back of her throat. Not what she needs now at all. Voronov pulls out the chair next to her and sits too.

  ‘Okay, after I confirmed the day of Gabriel’s testing, I was able to find out who was in charge of it. Like with Luisa’s results, there are no records of his tests either, only his testing date. Julio had appointment schedules filed under Monitoring, but for an unnamed subject. There are no records for this, nothing has been logged and everything is classified. The appointments start two months after Gabriel’s retesting. The retesting itself was a regular routine one.’ Carla stands in front of the smartboard and taps something on the laptop and the screen in front of them changes.

  ‘Okay,’ Isabel says.

  ‘But we took the appointment dates listed and cross-referenced with Gil’s and Célia’s calendars. The same days were booked out for them. It’s been going on for eleven years with one meeting every month. This is the only project that does not have accessible documentation. Everything is under lock and key. The subject’s name is redacted from any records that do exist and the results are buried under so many encryptions that it would take someone with serious skill to be able to break them open. The only living person who I believe can now access the results is Célia Armindas. Here’s the thing. Two weeks before dos Santos’ death, there was an entire week of closed sessions with the unnamed subject.’

  Isabel turns to Voronov. ‘What do you think?’ she asks.

  Voronov sighs and shrugs. ‘Our problem is still Célia not talking, although with this, I think she might now. And we’ll need to confirm Gabriel’s whereabouts during those appointments.’

  The appointments might go too far back to alibi, but if they can at least prove that he could’ve been present for a good number of them, that might be enough.

  Isabel could easily get them the information they need but they’ve agreed that giving Gabriel any hint of the extent of her powers could be disastrous.

  He’s been playing with them. Coming into the station, being outside her house. The touching concern for her safety. Luisa’s role in this whole thing had been nothing but a smokescreen, orchestrated by Gabriel.

  No. They need to be able to manage him as much as possible.

  If he’s really the person that Armindas, Julio and Gil had been working on, there’s no telling what his level may be. And if he’s really the one responsible for Julio and Gil’s deaths, then he’s already proven that he’s capable of violence.

  There are no friendly offers of beverages from Célia Armindas this time. She strides to her desk, sits down and shuffles a couple of papers before tossing them back on the desk. She rocks back on her expensive chair, fingers tapping at the armrest with nervous energy. She watches them through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Inspectors, I’ve told you already that I don’t have anything else to say that could be of help to you. With the recent tragedies that have taken place and how both Dr dos Santos and Professor Soares worked very closely on this centre’s projects, I’m sure you can appreciate that everything is very chaotic here at the moment. I don’t have time to be asked the same questions twice over.’

  Isabel speared her with a look. ‘Maybe if you’d answered the questions truthfully the first time around, we wouldn’t have to be here repeating them.’

  Célia snaps her mouth shut.

  ‘I think it’s in your best interest to tell us everything you know about Gabriel Bernardo and his dealings with NTI,’ Isabel says.

  It’s like the noise gets sucked out of the room. Célia’s eyes flare wide and dart from Isabel to Voronov.

  ‘Célia,’ Voronov says, ‘we know that you, Gil and Julio were working on an unnamed test subject. We know this began shortly after Gabriel Bernardo was retested. We know all of the dates on which this happened and that these tests with the unnamed subject became more and more frequent, peaking in the week before dos Santos was killed. We have strong reasons to suspect the subject is Gabriel Bernardo.’

  ‘What would happen if it gets out that the heads of national testing were keeping their very own lab rat to experiment on?’ Isabel asks.

  Célia slaps her hand down on her desk. ‘That’s not what that was! How dare you?’

  ‘We don’t know what it was,’ Isabel says. ‘You refuse to tell us. Do you understand that when this blows open, you’ll have done yourself no favours by refusing to assist us? Two men are dead. Both were involved in an unnamed subject testing and you’re the only one left to tell the tale. I think you should be more concerned for your own safety, rather than worrying about what kind of trouble you’ll get into with the board of ethics. I think you need to start talking.’

  Armindas shoves up from her chair, sending it spinning across the floor. It bumps into the glass wall and stops. She starts pacing. Eventually, she sighs.

  ‘Gabriel’s registered as a Regular. When he was tested that’s what he presented as. But there were some anomalies, so we agreed to retest at a later date. We spoke to Gabriel’s father and we agreed on six months. We’d thought that the anomalies were just that, a fluke, something that would be smoothed over with time. At this point, only Gil was working with Gabriel. He was on good terms with the family.’

  ‘Go on,’ Isabel says.

  ‘Six months later, the retest proved otherwise. He tested as Gifted. It was a very low level. This was unusual. We hadn’t seen this kind of development before, but it wasn’t anything to be alarmed over. It could’ve all been brushed under the carpet. Easily corrected. Gabriel’s father didn’t feel the same way. They come from a very traditional family. Gabriel being Gifted is unacceptable to them. He knew we were having trouble raising funding for a particular project we had pertaining to the stages that Gifted could access. He offered Gabriel as a test subject. We kept his name redacted; all files sealed. He wanted his son fixed. Or as close to a Regular as could be achieved, as if there is such a thing.’ She bites her lip and pauses by the corner of the desk, absently plays with a pencil on its top. Then she stops and sits on the corner of the desk.

  ‘So, what happened?’

  Armindas blows out a slow breath.

  ‘His level continued to escalate. It was slow at first, but obvious. And then it started to get dangerous. In no time at all he was presenting as mid-level Gifted. And not just that but as a dual-category. Can you imagine? It was all happening so fast. The data we were getting from his case alone was incredible and with the family funding the research—’

  ‘They bribed you,’ Isabel says.

  Armindas gives them a tight-lipped nod. ‘It was supposed to be safe. We were monitoring him.’ Her shoulders slump. ‘But Gabriel’s fast development wasn’t without its side effects. Higher-level Gifted can develop some very serious issues. It begins to affect their empathy and decision-making skills. It’s something that can be managed and barely even noticed in a low-level Gifted. But this isn
’t the case for a higher level. It can turn them into very unstable individuals.’

  ‘Is that what happened to Gabriel?’

  ‘The last visit – we realised just how bad it had got. Gil wanted to pull the plug on everything. He was scared,’ she says. ‘Gabriel had become bigger than any of us had expected. Gil thought we should come clean with the Registry, face the music, put things right. He didn’t want a tragedy like Colombo on his hands. A few days after that, he died.’ She shakes her head. ‘I knew right away it wasn’t a fit.’ She laughs. ‘A fit! Gabriel is capable of a great deal. Things people would find impossible to believe. Soares wanted to keep this under wraps. It’s what we were arguing about the night of the fundraiser. I wouldn’t denounce anyone, but I wanted out. Julio was so angry with me’ – she laughs – ‘he said I was being delusional. That Gabriel would never resort to that kind of violence. I don’t know how he didn’t see it. Gabriel was becoming more and more unstable.’ She presses a hand to her mouth. ‘Gil was right. We should’ve reported it. But if we’d been caught—’ she looks up at them, jaw set, eyes angry, ‘do you have any idea the lengths Monitoring would have gone to to hide something like this?’

  ‘What about Soares?’ Isabel asks.

  ‘Julio thought we could get it under control. That we could still fix this and be able to get away with it. He fought with Gil over coming clean to Monitoring, wanted to keep Gil quiet.’ She swallows. ‘Gil wanted to turn Gabriel over to them.’ She drops her gaze then, staring at the fingers she’s trailing back and forth over the edge of the desk. ‘He thought we could get in contact with Monitoring and sort it out quietly. Julio thought we could handle it ourselves.’

  Isabel draws in a sharp breath at the implications.

  Armindas isn’t talking about the day-to-day monitoring that the majority of higher-level Gifted were enrolled into.

  She’s talking about the other kind. The one where they show up to take you away in the middle of the night and no one ever hears from you again. The one where if you do come back, it’s years later and your mind is never quite the same again.

  Isabel stares at her. ‘Because of the decisions the three of you have made, two people are now dead. We have no real concept of just how much damage Gabriel can do on a larger scale. And you refused to come forward.’

  Armindas looks away, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Call the Chief,’ Isabel says, ‘we need to get a grip on this.’ She flicks a look at Célia, who is still staring off into space, lost in her own head. ‘The Chief’s going to have to put a proper detail on her.’

  Because right now, Armindas is the only one capable of making sure they have anything on Gabriel at all.

  ‘We need to find Gabriel.’

  Chapter 62

  THEN

  It never starts the way Isabel thinks it will.

  She keeps to herself, always. She tidies up her room, she washes the dishes and cleans the kitchen and the bathroom and irons when it’s her turn. She rarely makes a peep.

  She wishes she could predict it. But she never can.

  The first time her mother locks her in, Isabel is thirteen. It’s the anniversary of her father’s death.

  When Isabel wakes up that morning, the house is quiet.

  She looks over at the bed next to hers. Rita lies, curled onto her side, facing Isabel. She’s got her knees tucked in high against her chest and one arm hanging off the side of the bed.

  Isabel watches the rise and fall of her sister’s shoulders underneath the sheets and blankets. Rita is still so small, really petite. She eats like a little bird. That’s what their Tia Simone says when they go there for lunch with her and Sebastião. She always tries to make Rita eat a bit more but gives up because Rita gets upset and starts crying.

  The first time that happened, Isabel’s mother got so angry she called Tia on the phone and yelled at her. Told her if that ever happened again then she’d never let them go over for lunch again. Isabel had been standing in the kitchen, back pressed to the kitchen wall and her heart beating really fast, gnawing at her lip because the thought of not being allowed to go there, to see her tia and her brother, made her want to open the front door and run all the way there so her mother would never have the chance to make good on the threat.

  Isabel gets up, stops to make her bed first before she gets dressed, goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She closes the door quietly behind her so as not to wake up her sister.

  The ticking of the clock is loud in the hallway.

  When she reaches the living room the smell of alcohol is strong.

  Isabel peers around the door. Her mother is on the sofa. She’s sitting hunched over, a blanket over her shoulders and her head in her hands. Isabel can’t see her face because her hair hangs down and covers it. She’s barefoot, her feet flat on the marble floor.

  There are two bottles of wine on the table. One is empty and the other one is halfway gone. The glass on the table is full.

  ‘Mãe?’ Isabel asks, tentative. She steps into the room.

  Slowly, her mum’s head comes up and the eyes she trains on Isabel are like something out of a nightmare. They’re shot through with so much red that Isabel takes a step back.

  Isabel freezes in place. Just like she does in her nightmares. And when her mother stands, she can’t move. She wants to, she can feel every bone in her body screaming at her to run away because it’s not normal. The way her mother is looking at her isn’t normal.

  ‘Can you hear what I’m thinking?’ her mum asks. Her voice is so hoarse; it sounds like it does when her mum catches a cold.

  Isabel shakes her head. ‘No. I can’t do that,’ she says. Because she can’t. That’s not something she can do. ‘Mãe?’

  Isabel can’t move. Fear has her frozen in place and she wants to cry but she can’t. She can’t do any of that.

  ‘I don’t want to see you,’ her mum says. And then she starts sobbing. Her face just falls, like it’s too heavy for her to keep her expression. Her voice becomes deeper and choked up. ‘I don’t want to see you, can’t you understand that? You’re like a demon in my house. Why can’t I get rid of you?’

  Isabel drops her gaze to the floor, digs her nails into the sides of her thighs and tries to breathe through it. It’s okay. Her mother won’t do anything. She won’t do anything. She’ll say mean words and then she’ll walk away, like she always does. Isabel just has to keep quiet, keep her head down.

  It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll go away.

  When her mother grabs her arm, nails cutting into Isabel’s skin, grip too tight, Isabel yelps and jumps back. She looks up at her mother and the fear is just how it is in her nightmares. It renders her helpless.

  Her mother isn’t even looking at her any more. She pulls on Isabel’s arm so hard Isabel sobs and clutches at her shoulder because it hurts. When her mother begins to drag Isabel after her, her slippers slide on the smooth floor.

  Isabel trips and falls but that doesn’t make her mother stop. She just keeps pulling her by her arm, yanks so hard when Isabel tries to cling to the corner of the corridor that Isabel’s hand slips and her face hits the floor. Her teeth cut into her bottom lip. She starts crying for real then, her shirt riding up and the floor burning the skin over her ribs.

  ‘I don’t want to look at you,’ her mother repeats, ‘I don’t want to look at you.’

  Isabel doesn’t look up when her mother lets go of her. She curls in on herself and prays that her mother will leave her alone now.

  Then she hears the door open. Her mother grips her under her shoulders and drags her into the dark, drops her there, still muttering under her breath. The stench of alcohol washes over Isabel’s face but she still doesn’t take her hand away from her mouth.

  She realises then what her mother’s going to do.

  ‘No, no, mãe, please!’ She reaches out, trying to grab onto her mother’s leg, but she doesn’t reach her in time.

  The door
slams closed and leaves her locked in darkness.

  Chapter 63

  Tigre is peering at Isabel from the bottom of the bed, eyes eerily reflecting the light streaming in from the window as he watches Isabel. Next to Isabel, Branca just goes on snoring like she’s heard nothing. Isabel is disorientated and it takes her a second to figure out what dragged her from sleep.

  The phone. The phone is ringing. Isabel curses and reaches for it without looking.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Reis. Get your ass out of bed.’

  The Chief’s voice snaps her out of her drowsy, disturbed state. ‘Chief?’

  ‘Armindas is missing. We need all hands on deck.’

  That strikes her dumb. Foda-se.

  ‘The suspension—’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that, understand me? You need to do as you’re told. I want you here in twenty minutes.’

  ‘Yes, Chief.’

  Isabel gets there in less and will probably get more than one ticket, but she doesn’t care. She walks into the station and goes straight up to the case room. She’s bleary still and the lights make her swear under her breath. It’s one thirty in the morning and her body is not happy with her. Without the constraints of headaches and work times, she’d got used to sleeping through the night.

  She’s there though, her hair plastered to her head from the rain. She doesn’t even know exactly what she’s got on, because she hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights while getting dressed. Her trainers hadn’t held up too well on the short walk from her car in the pouring rain and they squish with her every step.

  The Chief sticks her head out of the case room just as Isabel strides in.

  ‘Get in here.’ She disappears back inside the room.

  Isabel hurries to catch up, cold and out of breath. God. Sometimes she wonders about the Chief. Her sixth sense borders on creepy. Given how NTI was being shown up as incompetent as hell during their investigation, it wouldn’t surprise her if the Chief herself has slipped through the cracks and is walking around as a happy-go-lucky Gifted, free of government intervention.