Acolyte (6 page)

‘For how long?' said Hugo.

Thorne looked at the lawyer to his immediate left. Jonah braced himself.

The lawyer nodded. ‘Six weeks minimum,' she said. ‘At most twelve.'

‘Please,' said Thorne, ‘rest assured you'll be on full pay. We'll get through this. You have all our support.'

Nobody said anything. Thorne shifted in his seat.

‘Suspension is a hell of a way to show your support,' said Hugo.

‘We've underestimated the Afterlifers,' said Thorne. ‘All of us. If you don't agree with what I've decided, I'm sorry. But we can't just brave-face this and pretend they'll go away. We simply can't risk taking borderline decisions, not now. There are rumours going around of a concerted effort, behind the scenes, to limit the FRS budget significantly. There are powerful people who aren't quite ready to come out in support of the Afterlifer cause, but who
are
ready to give them what help they can. They're pushing. Everything we say and do from here on in has to be managed with great care.'

‘So next time we just lie down?' said Jonah, visibly angry. ‘Let them get away with what they tried to do to that boy and his mother? It was the father's spite, that's all, to stop them saying goodbye; a final piece of revenge. If we'd waited, they would've found a way to drag it out until a revival was deemed unnecessary for the investigation, or too unlikely to succeed. Katherine Leith didn't have private revival insurance, and she sure as hell couldn't afford to pay outright for it. That's what you want us to do from now on? We didn't
know
that a judge was going to order a halt, but we knew they'd try to pull something. And we weren't going to wait around to see what.'

Thorne frowned. ‘That's an opinion I don't want to hear repeated outside this room. Pressure from the Afterlifers is growing every day, and the last thing we need is to be caught conspiring to deny the rights of a grieving parent.'

‘His mother doesn't count?'

‘You know what I mean. We're not a charity. Operational decisions can't hinge on whether we would
like
to offer revival to victims and their relatives. Don't make me the bad guy, Jonah. I'm on your side.'

‘No, sir. You may not be on the Afterlifer's side, but you're sure as hell not on mine.'

‘Jonah, your actions have consequences. The fallout from this will cost the FRS tens of thousands of dollars, maybe hundreds of thousands. All because you wanted a boy to say goodbye to his mother.'

‘You're out of line, Robert,' said Hugo. ‘That's going too far.'

‘Is it?' said Thorne, agitated. ‘We have to make shitty decisions every day, Hugo. You know that. We shield our staff as best we can, but every
day
we make decisions that could stop ordinary people getting their last chance at a revival. We make those
decisions because it's the best we can do. Compromise. It's not easy, but we have no choice.'

‘Uh,' said Never, putting up his hand, ‘surely there has to be
some
choice?' He looked at the contingent of lawyers. ‘You lot must have come up with other alternatives, right?'

The legal team said nothing but Jonah spotted the youngest-looking, a man furthest from Thorne, glance down fast enough to seem evasive. Hugo had seen it too.

‘What was it?' said Hugo, addressing the man directly.

The man looked at Thorne. ‘Perhaps if—' he started, but Thorne wasn't having any of it.

‘No
,
'
said Thorne. ‘I made my decision clear.'

Hugo turned his gaze to Thorne. ‘Robert, I insist. What was the alternative?'

Thorne and Hugo locked eyes, and the seconds passed. Finally, Thorne shook his head. He turned to Jonah, and spoke reluctantly. ‘They want your head. Before any investigation, they want you gone. Then they would back off, or so they claim.'

‘Just me?' said Jonah.

‘You're one of our best revivers, one of the longest-serving. That's why they want you. They're playing games. They know we won't fire you.'

Jonah thought of the lawyer he'd punched, imagined him putting the proposal together, doubtless gleeful and vindictive. Then he thought of the many court cases where he'd been called as witness, the lawyers coming for him personally. Now the Afterlifers were joining in, painting a target on him, making him the focus of their attack.

He suddenly realized how tired he was.

He thought of how difficult his life had felt lately, and knew it was time to face up to a truth he'd been avoiding for over a year: that there was a reason why everything about his job felt so much harder now.

He knew what he had to do.

‘You won't need to fire me,' he said, standing up. ‘Not if I resign.' Ignoring the open-mouthed looks, Jonah walked out of Hugo's office.

Hugo and Never followed a moment later, closing the office door behind them. Hugo hung back a little.

‘What the fuck?' said Never. ‘You can't just jack it in.'

‘I've been in this office since it opened, Never. The first of its kind, worldwide, and I was here on day one. I've watched it all the way, watched it grow. It's almost killed me, more than once. Then came Andreas. The fire at Reese-Farthing Medical. Getting
shot.
And ever since I came back to work not one day has gone by without me thinking about shifting to private revivals before it's too late, but my sense of duty was stopping me. The FRS isn't good for me, Never. I've always known that. But I hadn't been able to admit that
I
was bad for the FRS.'

‘So take a holiday! If we're all suspended, just take a break and—'

‘Suspension still means fighting, Never. I don't have any fight left in me. Thorne's right about the Afterlifers. They're strong, and if we behave like we don't give a damn for their concerns, it'll just fuel that strength. But right now, all I can think of is David Leith and his mother. I can't be in that position again. I
can't.
Because if I am, I'll do exactly what I did this time, and the FRS will take the hit. I can't trust myself to do what needs to be done to protect the FRS. I can't watch that happen and know it was my fault.'

‘You'll change your mind,' said Never, stunned. ‘By tomorrow morning, I guarantee it.'

Jonah put his hand on his friend's shoulder and looked him in the eye. ‘I won't,' he said. ‘I mean it.'

They looked at each other for a few seconds. Eventually Never looked away, and nodded. ‘I guess you do,' he said.

‘But if you do change your mind, Jonah,' said Hugo, walking over to them, ‘
if
you do, your desk will stay right where it is. However long that takes.'

Jonah nodded. He spent a moment gathering his few belongings in a plastic bag, while Hugo and Never stayed silent. When he had finished collecting his things, he turned to find his way blocked by Never.

‘Can't I talk you out of this?' said Never. Jonah shook his head. ‘Do you want a hand taking your stuff back to your apartment?'

‘I'd rather just go home alone.'

‘OK,' said Never, reluctantly. He stepped forward and hugged Jonah.

‘It's not like I'm leaving the country.' Jonah could feel his eyes starting to water, and he could see Never's doing the same.

‘You've, ah, got something in your eye,' said Never, and Jonah just nodded.

Then, Jonah Miller walked out of the FRS. Going down the stairs, it seemed like he was in free-fall; that he'd jumped from the roof and was taking a long time to hit the ground.

When Jonah got back to his apartment he tried to call Annabel. She didn't answer, so he sent her an email to tell her what had happened. By noon he'd still not heard back, but the events of the previous twenty-four hours were catching up with him. Numb and exhausted, he crashed on the couch.

He was woken by his cat Marmite, licking his nose and purring. Feeding the cat had been the only thing he'd had any success with when he'd got home that morning, and it was already time to do it again. The clock on his wall showed just past 5 p.m.

‘Come on,' Jonah told the cat, his own stomach grumbling. He fed Marmite and put two slices of bread into the toaster. When they popped, he looked blankly at them for a moment, wondering when the toaster had started making a
buzzing
sound. Then his brain kicked in enough for him to realize someone was ringing at his door.

He shuffled over to the intercom.

‘Hi, Never,' he said. Who else would it be?

‘Can I come up?'

‘Sure. I warn you, I just woke. Might be a little vague.'

‘No problem. I brought a surprise.'

‘OK,' said Jonah, too foggy to give it any thought. He buzzed Never in at the front entrance, then checked his cell phone for anything from Annabel. There was nothing. Whatever his feelings for her, they were fighting with a general irritation over how hard she
was to get hold of – or more specifically, how often she seemed to be avoiding him. It was bad enough at the best of times, but right now it drove him crazy. His finger hovered over her number, ready to give her another try, but then he shook his head. He switched his phone off and threw it over to the couch, ignoring it as it bounced onto the floor. For a moment he felt curiously better for it. He wondered just what that meant for the health of their relationship.

Three loud knocks announced Never's arrival. Jonah opened the door, his sleepy face brightening when he saw who else was there.

‘Sam!' he said.

Sam Deering, the man who, until his retirement the year before, had run the Central East Coast FRS, was one of the few people besides Never and Annabel that Jonah was close to. Sam had been in Jonah's life since he was fourteen, when the death of Jonah's mother had simultaneously orphaned him and revealed his revival ability. He was the nearest thing to a father Jonah had.

‘When I heard what happened I thought you could do with some company,' said Sam. ‘Whether you want it or not.'

Jonah mock-frowned at Never.

‘What?' said Never. ‘I just happened to be on the phone to Sam, so of course I mentioned it.'

‘And what did you just happen to be on the phone to Sam
about
?'

‘Ah,' said Never. He shrugged. ‘Give me a minute, I'll think of something.'

‘Get your ass inside, Geary,' Jonah said, shutting the apartment door.

‘It's been a while, Jonah,' said Sam. ‘You should call by more often. Helen and I like to see you.'

Jonah did a quick mental calculation. The last time he'd caught up with Sam had been three months before, when Sam had come
back from a revival conference in France and had invited Jonah and Annabel over to his house for a meal. ‘I'll try.'

‘Maybe next time Annabel's here,' said Sam. ‘How's that going?'

‘Fine, I guess,' lied Jonah. ‘She spends most of her time travelling. She's been out on the West Coast for a few months tracking down leads for the story she's building about Andreas.'

‘Still on that, huh?' said Sam. As far as Sam was aware, the events of the previous year had been exactly as Jonah, Never and Annabel had told the police: that Michael Andreas had invited Annabel to attend a fundraising event; the event was then targeted by Afterlifer-supporting terrorists.

There was an element of truth to it, although it hadn't exactly been a fundraising event, and the ‘invitation' had involved the three of them being rounded up by Andreas's security staff and brought to the Reese-Farthing Medical building under duress.

‘Yeah, she's still on that,' said Jonah. ‘I don't get to see as much of her as I'd like.'

‘Well, she's good for you,' said Sam. ‘Helen's keen to have her over for dinner again.'

‘She's supposed to be here in a couple of weeks,' said Jonah. ‘We'll take you up on it. So, you guys want a coffee or something?'

‘No,' said Sam, smiling. ‘I'm here to treat you to a meal and get you drunk.'

*

When Sam asked Jonah where he wanted to eat, he opted for Mexican and knew exactly why. After any revival, there were fragments of the revived subject left behind, the smallest traces of them; pieces of second-hand memories, quickly fading.

David Leith had loved burritos and it was the first thing Jonah had thought of.

So they headed out to a Mexican restaurant, Jonah outwardly in good spirits. Sam and Never took that as a sign that he was
bearing up well; Jonah didn't tell them that it was mainly due to the sensation of free-fall which hadn't left him since he'd walked out of the office.
For what might be the last time
, his mind yelled at him. He was simply too dazed to be worrying much about his future.

Inevitably, talk turned to nostalgia for the early days of the FRS itself, something that Sam Deering had largely been responsible for creating. It had been Sam's foresight that had led to the research that put forensic revival on a firm foundation. When revival had first appeared, an international research effort had been set up at an old US military site. Known as the Revival Baseline Research Group, the intent – and the expectation – had been to find out how revival worked, and what it meant for humanity. Everyone had thought it heralded something profound, some new, deeper understanding of the human condition.

Instead, there had been nothing but frustration.

As the senior researcher, Sam Deering had chosen to sidestep the theology that so preoccupied others, and instead look to the empirical considerations, the areas that research genuinely could examine. After all, he'd reasoned, physical phenomena like gravity and magnetism are thought of as ‘understood', even when their underlying nature is a mystery. Empirical science is precisely
about
quantifying the properties of something that is, at first, mysterious. Thus tamed, the mystery is forgotten, even though it's still there, underneath. That, Sam believed, could happen with revival, too.