Acolyte (15 page)

Exactly the kind of reassurance he needed right now.

There was also a schematic of equipment he couldn't quite work out at first. Then he realized there was a place within it for someone to lie down, and the rest began to make sense. It was tapered, almost wedge-shaped, narrowing from the end with the head to that with the feet, with an array of small windows by the head. He looked at Annabel's notes to see what the hell it was: their latest whole-body cryogenic unit. An image came to him of row upon row of these things, all filled with the paying dead, their faces staring out of cold glass. It made him shiver, and he laughed at himself.
Christ
, he thought,
if anyone should be immune to finding that kind of thing creepy, it's me.

All the scanned documents were marked with prominent ‘confidential' declarations, of course. Sensitive company information, all of it. He wondered if they were aware that it had been stolen. He wondered how the hell Annabel had managed to get hold of it.

Jonah sat staring blankly at the screen and wondered what Annabel was doing right at that moment. He closed the email and spent the next few hours watching random junk on television, but the day had taken it out of him. He was in bed asleep by nine.

The night brought its own terrors. The face of Mary Connart, twisting in fear, screams deepening until they became the growling of dogs. The dream shifted, and again he saw the vast shadow, striding across a city that, this time, looked very much like Richmond, burning all that it touched.

And in his dream, Jonah looked at the ground at the creature's feet and saw it stirring, boiling with movement, as uncountable shadows ran over the terrain underneath their master.

The disciples of the beast. Its servants. Its
acolytes.

And their touch was just as corrosive.

He woke from the dream, shaking.

*

In the morning he was restless enough to contact Bob Crenner.

‘Nothing to report yet, Jonah,' said Bob. ‘Me and Ray are going over witnesses from the party to see if we can identify the man. We've also got a few feelers out for the name Mary mentioned. She assumed he meant Winterton, the New York firm that wanted to hire her, but it might be coincidence. It might have meant something very different to him, especially given the strength of his reaction.'

Winterton. Jonah swore aloud. When he'd heard it from Mary before, her voice had been so clear in his head that it was absolutely precise.
Winterton.
Hearing it from Bob Crenner now, the word was less distinct, allowing him to make a connection he'd missed. A crazy thought, just fuelling the paranoia already inflamed by the word
shadow
, and by his dreams.

‘Jonah?' said Bob.

‘The PR company that arranged the party,' he said. ‘Mary's employers. How many client companies did they have at the event?'

‘We've not gotten around to checking with them all, if that's what you mean. Why do you ask?'

‘See if there are any Andreas Biotech affiliates, Bob.'
Please, don't find anything
, he thought.

‘Andreas?'

‘Just check. It's probably nothing.'

‘OK,' said Bob, after a pause. ‘We've secured an extra four detectives for the investigation. I'll get one of them to look into it.'

Jonah was about to hang up, but he came to a sudden decision. ‘Bob,' he said, ‘I want a favour. In return for the revival.'

‘Anything.'

‘Once you find this guy … I want to be there when you talk to him.'

After he hung up, Jonah realized he was shaking a little. He opened Annabel's email again, and looked at the attached site plan for the Andreas Biotech research facility in Nevada.

He looked at the name of the site, and told himself it was just coincidence.

‘Winterton,' he said aloud.

It was nothing like it, really.

Nothing like Winnerden. Nothing like Winnerden Flats.

Jonah got another call from Bob in the early afternoon. By 4 p.m., he was back inside the Third District Police Station.

‘We got the lead just before midday,' said Bob. ‘We have a team of fourteen now, talking to as many party attendees as possible. Finally got a witness who saw Mary talk with a man, then tell him to go to hell. They could only give a vague description, though.'

‘Meantime,' said Ray, ‘I was checking out your suggestion. The only company at the party that had an Andreas Biotech connection is listed as ARI. That's Andreas Research Investment, a DC-based daughter company. We got a list of attendees from them, only two of whom were male. I culled pictures from their Facebook pages and we showed them to our witness.' He held up a printout of an image. ‘Positive ID. Blake Torrance, thirty-seven years old. He's been with the company for eight years.'

Bob turned to Jonah and asked the question that had probably been on his mind all day. ‘Why
did
you think there was a link to Andreas?'

‘The name she gave,' said Jonah. ‘Winterton. There's a facility Andreas Biotech is upgrading in Winnerden Flats, Nevada.' Bob waited for more, his eyebrow raised. ‘It was just a shot in the dark. Given what happened at Reese-Farthing, Annabel takes an interest in things like that.'

Bob didn't look satisfied with the answer but he let it go.

‘I'd heard you and Annabel Harker had hooked up,' said Ray. ‘Going well, I hope?'

Jonah nodded with all the enthusiasm he could muster, which was very little. ‘When are you going to talk to Torrance?'

‘Soon,' said Ray. ‘I've already been to his office. I asked him to come in to answer some questions. He obliged, so he's sitting at the far end of the building as we speak. If he'd refused, I would probably have arrested him, and I think he knew that. Now, we just have to wait for his lawyer to get here.'

*

It was another fifty minutes before the lawyer showed. In the meantime, Jonah sat by Bob's desk watching him put away more coffee than was surely safe for human consumption, Bob and Ray discussing what approach they would take in questioning.

When the time came they showed Jonah to a one-way observation window looking into the cramped interview room. Two minutes later the detectives entered, followed by the lawyer, a dishevelled older man with bags under his eyes that looked like they were filled with overwork. Then came the man himself.

Jonah looked him over. He was a young thirty-seven, handsome, cocky. And there was something else. Something
wrong
with him. Jonah couldn't tell what, but he'd felt the hairs standing on his arms from the moment Torrance entered the room.

Torrance sat, and as he did so, he placed his left hand on his right shoulder and scratched. He did it again a moment later, and Jonah found himself staring at where Torrance was scratching. He felt suddenly cold, his heart rate quickening. He had an urge to run but he didn't understand why.

Then he saw it. Just for a moment. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, seeing nothing now. But he was sure he'd not imagined it.

There had been something there.

Something dark, crouching on Torrance's shoulder.

*

Bob nodded to Ray, who was standing by a small control panel on the wall. A red light went green and Ray sat down. Recording had started.

Bob made the introductions for the benefit of the cameras. Torrance acknowledged his name with a single ‘yes' and a bored sigh.

‘Do you understand why you're here?' asked Bob.

Torrance looked at his lawyer, who nodded for him to answer. ‘You believe I was one of the last people to speak to a woman who was murdered,' Torrance said. ‘I agreed to come so we can handle this quickly and I can get back to my job.'

‘Well, Blake, if you give us full answers to our questions, this shouldn't take long.'

‘So get started,' said Torrance, not holding back on the disdain.

‘You work for Andreas Research Investment, is that correct?'

‘Yes.'

‘And what does your job entail?'

‘Our remit is wide. Mainly, we have a team of analysts who look for promising companies or projects that might benefit Andreas Biotech. Start-ups, parts of larger companies. Recruitment of academics and graduates, too, sometimes.'

‘You're one of these analysts?'

Torrance laughed. ‘No. I'm one of the senior staff. I oversee funding and project coordination, among other duties. I practically run the place. That's why I'm so
busy
, Officer.'

‘
Detective
,' corrected Bob. ‘Not too busy to party, though?'

‘Not at all. It's an important aspect of what I do. I like to be hands-on with prospective purchases or research funding. We have a great relationship with universities too. If you want the best people, you have to make them feel welcome. Keep them happy.'

Bob looked at Ray, who took over. ‘You don't always make people feel welcome, though. Do you, Blake?'

‘I have no idea what you mean,' said Torrance.

‘Take your mind back three weeks,' said Ray. ‘On the night of the sixteenth. Friday. The victim's employer, a public relations firm called Manor Williams, threw a party for clients. You were present, yes?'

Another look to the lawyer; another nod. ‘I was.'

Ray looked at Bob, who took a picture from a folder in front of him and slid it across the table. It showed Mary Connart, smiling. ‘Do you recognize her?'

Torrance shook his head. ‘No.'

‘This is the victim, Blake,' said Bob. ‘Mary Connart. We have a witness who states you were speaking with her on the night in question.'

‘If I was, I don't recall it.' Torrance rubbed at his shoulder. Jonah found his eye creeping back there again and again, seeing nothing; he was beginning to think the dark, formless shape had only been in his imagination.

‘The witness states that Mary Connart told you to go to hell,' said Bob. ‘I'm surprised you don't remember.'

The lawyer spoke up. ‘And your witness could identify my client?'

‘She already has,' said Ray. ‘She would identify him in court if necessary.'

Torrance was starting to look less comfortable. He rubbed at his shoulder again. ‘OK, OK. Now I remember who she was. I made an advance. She declined. That was it.'

‘Did the witness overhear the conversation, Detective?' asked the lawyer.

Bob smiled at him. ‘As I understand it, your client kept his voice low enough that being overheard was unlikely.'

The lawyer sat back, looking satisfied.

‘However,' said Bob. ‘Mary Connart heard every word.'

The lawyer leaned forward again. Blake Torrance glared at Bob then looked at his lawyer, whose face had soured. ‘Revival,' said Torrance. His lawyer put a fast hand on Torrance's arm and squeezed to stop him saying more.

‘Am I to understand, Detectives,' said the lawyer, ‘that a revival of Mary Connart has taken place?'

‘Oh, I think you know damn well it has,' said Ray. ‘I'll bet you're itching to know what she said.'

The lawyer smiled. ‘And am I to understand that what was purportedly a private revival was also used to pose questions to the victim relating to the evening of her death?'

Bob paused before he answered. ‘I'm impressed with how much you already know about a case your client had no involvement with, sir.'

‘It's incumbent on me to ascertain as many facts as possible,
sir
, when my client's freedom is at stake. Please don't confuse competence with guilt.'

‘Guilt?' said Bob. ‘Right now all your client is being accused of is talking to someone.'

The lawyer took a deep, unhappy breath. ‘This is nonsense. We don't have to answer any more questions, Blake. Let's go.' He stood. Blake Torrance stayed where he was, watching Bob with wary eyes, his hand straying to his shoulder. ‘Blake?'

Torrance began to stand.

‘I'd advise you not to leave,' said Bob. ‘Unless you want us to arrest you. Right now, you're just assisting the inquiry. You want to avoid arrest, I suggest you keep assisting.'

Torrance and his lawyer shared a look and reluctantly took their seats. Torrance muttered: ‘What's keeping her?'

‘Calm, Blake, please,' said the lawyer. ‘She'll be here soon.'

Bob looked at Ray, then back to Torrance, uneasy. ‘Who'll be here soon?'

‘Oh, just moral support,' said the lawyer. ‘Now believe me, Detective, we have no desire for an arrest. We'll assist you, within
reason. For now. I'm sure my client would appreciate it if you lessened your hostile attitude, perhaps?'

Bob nodded. ‘Then maybe you could tell us, Blake, exactly what you and Mary spoke of?'

‘I don't remember
exactly.
'

‘Do you have any memory at all of the content of that conversation?'

‘It was small talk.'

‘Small talk that she took offence at? Enough for her to tell you to go to hell?'

‘Sure. It was a party, I'd had a drink. You know what women are like.'

Bob took his time to share a look with Ray. ‘Oh, I know what this woman was like, Blake. At least, I know what she was like shortly after you spoke to her.' He reached into his folder and took out a series of photographs, turning them around. Mary Connart's brutalized corpse, lying in the alley.

The lawyer visibly flinched, turning away. ‘Dear God, there's no need for that.'

Jonah was watching Torrance, watching his eyes. They hadn't left Bob's. He hadn't even
glanced
down. Bob raised the photograph into Torrance's line of sight. Torrance looked at it briefly, then his eyes went to the table. ‘I didn't have anything to do with it,' he said.

Bob put the pictures to one side and took a sheet of text from his folder. The transcript of Mary's revival.

‘He said someone's name
,
'
Bob read.
‘Winterton. Had I told anyone about Winterton? I didn't answer. Winterton's a firm in New York that was trying to headhunt me. I'd been talking about it earlier with a friend and this guy must have overheard. I said it was none of his business. He leaned close and snarled that it was
exactly
his business, that if I couldn't keep my mouth shut he'd shut it for me. I told him to go to hell. His eyes were so damn cold.
' Bob looked up. ‘Have you any comment to make?'