Acolyte (7 page)

The research effort became known just as ‘Baseline'; by the time public funding dried up and it was brought to a premature conclusion, people no longer looked at revival as an inevitable pathway to ultimate truths, or to the meaning of life.

It was a tool, the same as any other. And it had its uses.

*

In the middle of the meal Sam went to the restroom, leaving Jonah and Never alone for the first time that evening.

‘Have you told Annabel what's happened?' asked Never.

Jonah shrugged. ‘I left her some messages, but couldn't get hold of her.'

‘Right,' said Never.

Jonah didn't like his tone. ‘Out with it.'

‘I …' started Never, but then he stopped. ‘This isn't the right time.'

‘
Out
with it.'

‘I don't like seeing you this way. Every mention of Annabel, you wince. You need a serious chat with her. If she's so distracted by this fucking
quest
she's taken on, then, well … she needs to take a break from it. All I'm saying is the girl has issues, and unless she sorts them, every time she's here she'll just look like she's counting the hours before she can go again. And I see it in your eyes, you know she is.'

Jonah took a deep breath and nodded. ‘When she relaxes, it all feels
right.
And I know we could make a go of it, if that was how she always was.' He looked up at Never, miserable. ‘But that happens less, every time I see her. Since the last time she came I've been waiting for the break-up phone call. Whenever she rang, I was bracing myself for it.'

‘Christ, Jonah,' sighed Never. ‘There's nothing I can say, except
good luck.
' He paused, both of them taking a long, wallowing swig of their beer. Then he looked up and grinned. ‘But I
can
get you massively drunk. And if ever a night called for it, it's this one.'

Jonah frowned, then laughed. ‘I think that'd be a good idea.'

Meal finished, Never cajoled Sam into joining them in their self-destruction. ‘One or two, maybe,' said Sam, ‘but no more.' Jonah saw the glint in Never's eye.

Two hours later, in a bar three doors down from the restaurant, Jonah was at the sweet spot, feeling disconnected enough to have stopped worrying much about either his job or Annabel, but not so drunk that he couldn't appreciate the feeling. He wanted to keep it going as long as he could, and decided to make the next
beer his last and fend off Never's undisguised goal of total obliteration.

Sam brought the conversation around to Never's love-life.

‘Nothing doing,' said Never. ‘And to be honest, I've stopped looking. For a while, anyway. I'm hoping that will somehow
make it happen.
But I think that might be like stopping buying food and expecting things to just grow in your fridge.'

‘I've seen your fridge,' said Jonah. ‘Things
do
grow there.'

‘Well, I've quit looking,' said Never. ‘We'll see how it goes.'

‘You did hit on the new woman in Admin at the Christmas party.'

‘Yeah,' said Never. ‘She liked the Belfast accent. Didn't like the actual
words
, though.'

Sam smiled. ‘I suppose you do need someone with a well-developed sense of humour.'

Sam and Jonah's laughter took a while to settle down, fuelled by the stern look on Never's face.

‘Guys, I'm going once I've finished this beer,' said Sam. ‘If I go now, Helen will be amused when I stumble in. Any more, and she'd not take long to be
unamused.
'

‘Understood,' said Jonah, although Never grumbled.

Sam fidgeted a little, and Jonah had an idea that he was going to raise an awkward subject. He wondered which it would be – Annabel, or work.

‘You'll be fine,' said Sam. ‘I know you will. Wait until the dust settles, then go back to what you do best.'

Jonah smiled, realizing that the great thing about being a little drunk was how easily he could convince Sam that there was nothing to worry about. ‘Thanks. But with the way the Afterlifer things are going, private work would be far less of a headache.'

‘All this Afterlifer nonsense will settle down,' said Sam. ‘It'll blow over in a matter of months.'

Raising an eyebrow, Never leaned forward. ‘You confident
about that? From the FRS perspective things are getting hairy very fast, and no end in sight.'

‘I'm confident,' said Sam. He tapped a confidential finger to his nose. ‘I've heard things, in the last few weeks. A few rumours.'

‘What kind?' asked Never.

‘That there's something on the horizon.'

‘Yes,' said Never. ‘They're going to cripple the FRS with legislation.'

Sam nodded. ‘They want to, sure, but I don't think the FRS has much to fear from what's coming.'

Jonah sat forward now. ‘You know what's on the way, Sam?'

‘I hear things. I can't say much, but I think the FRS will be in a better position in the long run.'

‘So if it doesn't kill us,' said Never, ‘it'll make us stronger?'

Sam shrugged. ‘I'm confident this country will make the right decisions.'

‘Well,' said Never, ‘the Afterlifers want to make the public wary of revival all over again, and they're suddenly doing a fine job of it. You remember what it was like in the early days of revival? The public supported it in the end, but they easily could've gone the other way. What if the Afterlifers keep the momentum going, if they manage to bring all that fear roaring back? You really think this country will make the right decisions in a climate of fear?'

‘What are you saying?' said Sam.

‘Put it this way: witch-hunts don't make for good laws.'

Sam shook his head. He smiled, even though Never was scowling. ‘The Afterlifer bubble is about to be comprehensively burst, Never. Trust me.' The scowl didn't shift from Never's face. ‘Really. When I said things would blow over, it wasn't just the new legislation I was talking about.'

Now
the scowl shifted. Never and Jonah were both listening eagerly. Sam just sat there, his smile enigmatic.

‘Oh for fuck's sake, Sam,' said Never. ‘Either spill the beans or buy another round.'

‘OK, OK. I heard something from Stephanie,' said Sam. ‘Stephanie Graves.' He looked at Jonah, and Jonah nodded.

Stephanie Graves had been a researcher at Baseline, and had also been responsible for the wellbeing of the revivers there. She'd been the one to understand much of the psychological trauma that revivers could suffer, and had developed widely used treatment methods.

‘I didn't think you were on speaking terms,' said Jonah.

Sam shrugged. ‘She left Baseline because she didn't like some of the …
companies
I'd allowed into the project.'

He didn't need to be more explicit: CIA, NSA, and other less
official
agencies had all had their hand in the revival research at Baseline. Indeed, the work that had led to Michael Andreas's death had originated in secret military research, attempting to exploit revivers as a kind of infallible lie detector. Jonah's greatest fear in the past seventeen months had been that those agencies would come knocking, eager to learn just what Andreas had been up to. He didn't imagine they'd be fobbed off as easily as the police had been.

Pain sparked in Jonah's chest at the thought; it had been an employee of one of those agencies who had put the bullet there.

‘Stephanie was right, of course,' said Sam. ‘My decisions had undermined what Baseline stood for. I refused to talk to her for years, because I refused to accept I'd been wrong.' He shook his head. ‘But that's old news. The point is, two weeks ago Stephanie got in touch and told me something as a professional courtesy.'

‘She told you what?' said Jonah.

Sam lowered his voice. ‘This goes no further, OK?'

Jonah and Never both nodded, wide-eyed.

‘The Government is reopening Baseline,' said Sam. ‘In part, it's a way to mollify the Afterlifers, because they've been harping on about how little we really understand revival. They've been blaming the absence of research over the eight years since Baseline finally shut down, but really it was a cheap hook to hang their arguments
from – they thought the money wasn't there, and they didn't expect their bluff to be called. But it has been. That's why the legislation will be good, because it'll be ongoing and evidence-led.'

Jonah shook his head, thinking about how all the previous research had hit dead-ends. ‘They really think it'll get anywhere?' he said.

‘Stephanie does,' said Sam. ‘She told me the funding is considerable, and the technology needed to study revival has developed well beyond the level it was at before. She's been making progress herself ever since she left the original Baseline. That's why they brought her in. Nobody else in the world knows more about where the most promising areas of research are.'

Jonah had been treated by Stephanie not long before the Andreas situation came up. He remembered her bemoaning how little money and equipment she had, yet still managing to get serious research done. ‘And you think this bursts the Afterlifer bubble?'

‘Absolutely. It takes away all their momentum. And there's something else, Jonah. They'll want all the best revivers in the world to take part in the new research.'

For a moment, Jonah was stunned. It wasn't something that had occurred to him, but maybe this was it. Maybe this was what he needed. Then he remembered: ‘Except that I'm now officially disgraced.'

Sam shrugged. ‘Don't worry. They might not come to you directly, but if you want to take part, I hear they'll move mountains to get the best people.'

Going back to Baseline
, he thought, and the feeling that hit him was so unfamiliar it took him a second to place it.

Optimism.

*

Jonah and Never only stayed on for a few more after Sam left. Jonah had another three beers, knowing he'd regret it, while
Never downed four and a chaser, clearly determined that at least one of them would end up insensible. They took a taxi back to Jonah's.

‘Can I crash at your place?' slurred Never as the cab pulled up.

‘Of course. As long as you promise not to let me drink anything else.'

‘Deal,' said Never, grinning. The grin fell away, his eyes looking past Jonah. ‘Ah,' he said. ‘Actually, best if I just take the cab on home.'

Jonah turned his head. There, by the entrance to his apartment block, was Annabel. She smiled and waved. Jonah returned the wave and looked back at Never.

‘Shit,' Jonah said.

‘Probably better if you don't say that to her. And in hindsight, let me apologize for getting you quite so drunk. Also, don't get talking about, you know, your relationship. While drunk.'

‘I hear you.'

‘Good, because that's the only time I
ever
talk about that shit, and you'll note that I'm conspicuously single. Good luck.'

Jonah got out and braced himself, wondering if the smile he was trying to force would look real enough to be convincing. But as he walked towards her and saw her up close, he realized his smile wasn't fake. He was scared of losing her, but by God it felt good to see her again.

‘Where the hell were you?' she said, smiling. ‘I've been calling you since I landed.'

He thought of his phone, switched off and left in his apartment. ‘I was waylaid. Drowning my sorrows.' A sudden thought hit him. ‘Besides, I was trying to call
you
all day.'

Annabel smiled. ‘Yeah, sorry about that.' She hugged him. ‘When I got your message I thought you might need company so I grabbed the first flight I could. Probably would have given it away if I spoke to you from an airport, and I wanted to surprise you.'

‘You did,' Jonah said, holding her. Part of him knew damn well that sooner or later they'd have to have that talk and sort things out.

But right now things felt good.

The next morning Jonah woke on the couch with a full-tilt hangover. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings and recall what had happened the night before.

Once he and Annabel had got into his apartment they'd shared a long kiss, but he was dead on his feet. Annabel had made some coffee and he'd told her all about the David Leith revival, but the coffee wasn't nearly enough to keep him awake. She'd laid him down, his head on her lap, stroking his hair as he talked about what had happened. And that was the last thing he could remember.

The room was bright enough to make him wince; Annabel must have pulled back the curtains to wake him. He sat up, a blanket around him, feeling guilty. He thought of all the ill-feeling towards Annabel's absence that had been brewing within him, yet the moment she was actually
here
, he'd conked out for the night.

It was still early, just after 9 a.m. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, then sat at the table.

‘Morning,' said Annabel, appearing at the kitchen door. She'd already dressed, and was watching Jonah with distinct amusement. ‘I left you on the couch and took your bed for myself.'

‘Sorry about last night,' he said. He lifted his glass up. ‘Five more of these and I'll be human again, I promise.'

‘You want some coffee and toast?' she said. He nodded, watching her as she moved about the kitchen.

He knew it was unfair of him to be so jealous of her time.

Annabel's investigations focused on the workings of Michael Andreas's various companies, and into the backgrounds of the group of Afterlifer-inspired terrorists who had caused the fire at Reese-Farthing. Her work was an attempt to come to terms with everything that had happened, and with one thing in particular: Annabel's father had been an early victim of those Afterlifers.