Minions (36 page)

“I just figured that given my access has been removed,
then that was paramount to a warning of my sacking.”

“Certainly not.  I’ve just disabled your access to the
Research Interface is all.  Curiosity is one thing, but not when it’s as
overtly subversive as yours.  Don’t get me wrong Lori, I’ve appreciated your
curiosity until now, even if it was covertly professional in its intentions,
but not if you’re going to interfere.”

“But my access to the Research Interface is still fine,”
Devlin commented incredulously.  He couldn’t help but test his own access while
listening to Glen speak.  “So I’m still OK?”

“Of course.  I sense you are on the cusp of learning
something Devlin, and I’d very much prefer for you to make this realisation
here and now.”

“But …”

“The Research Interface is there to be used, Devlin,” Glen
hinted without subtlety, adding, “I’m not the bad guy in this.”

“I just don’t know how Tania fits in.”

“I’m only surprised that you haven’t found this out for
yourself.”

“I was going to…”

“And you’ll do what about it?” Glen pressed.

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you do, and you’ll do the right thing.”

“But ..”

“But what, Devlin?  You do your homework and you make up
your own mind.” Glen nodded to Lori and left the room, leaving Lori initially
silent and Devlin making faces to himself as if thinking. 

“Who’s Tania?” Lori asked, keen to coax Devlin from his
distant state. 

“I was going to explain Tania before Glen re-appeared.”

“Who’s she, and what’s she to you?”

“She’s no-one to
me
!” Devlin replied, sensing a
hint of jealousy in Lori’s tone.  “To explain I have to tell you about pretty
well everything that’s happened to me over the last few days.” 

                                                                                                                                                        
Chapter - 79.
               
 

Devlin couldn’t believe how quickly Lori assimilated his
protracted recap of the preceding days.  He expected her eyes to glaze over as
his explanation turned into a saga, but instead it seemed that she was all the
more interested with every word that he said.  She didn’t ask a mass of
questions and immediately formulated a plan.  He made no secret of his
appreciation either, deferring to her to take the lead and allowing her to take
control of his keyboard.  

The only discussion between Lori and Devlin related to the
order that they undertook their research.  Lori was keen to start with Malcolm,
whereas Devlin was adamant that as everything and everyone pointed to Tania,
then surely she should be investigated first.  Only after Lori conceded that
her covert investigation, until now at least, had yielded little did she agree
to look first at Tania.  Devlin then wanted to learn what he could of the man
that Angie had described.  He still felt for her, in spite of whatever she’d
said about him.

“I need
everything
you know about her,” asked Lori.

“I don’t know a lot, really just her name.  I could maybe remember
her address if I tried.”

“That won’t be enough.  If you’re vague, you’re punished
for it.  If you enter a name or a word, it tells you everything that could
possibly be associated with that word from all of its sources.”  Lori gave a
cursory look to the security camera mounted high on the wall against the
ceiling.  “You enter more, you narrow your search.  Unlike Google, this will capture
your intent.”

Devlin removed the list from his pocket, anticipating
Lori’s interest.  “Her name came up when I tried a list of recent readers names.”

Lori paused a moment, her hands hovering over the
keyboard.  “Summarise everything you know about her.”

Devlin cautiously and sparingly offered names and facts. 
He focussed less on the banal details of his meetings with her, and more on
what he’d gleaned from what Whitely and Reymond had said.  Lori executed the
search as soon as she was confident that Devlin was complete. 

Clearly more adept at the use of the Research Interface,
Lori had managed to order the result.  While Devlin noticed that the result
still amounted to 38 pages worth, at least it was chronologically ordered which
would make it substantially more logical than the seemingly randomised results
that he’d seen in the past.  Presented before him was the life, or at least
part of the life, of Tania Wilson.  They started to read, each silently
communicating to the other when they were ready to move to the next page.

After a few pages of reading, Devlin decided that
‘unfortunate’ was the best word to describe Tania’s life.  Her employment
history could have been interpreted as eclectic, as if she wanted to sample
working life in as many roles as possible, but it wasn’t.  She’d drifted from
job to job, each a little lower in profile than the last.  From senior
management she’d progressed to less and less responsibility, until she wasn’t
considered responsible enough to fetch a cup of coffee for herself.  Family and
friends obviously helped her get jobs but they couldn’t help her keep them.

Somewhere along the way, substance abuse became obvious in
her employment and life in general, though it was difficult to assess whether
her decline was caused by the alcohol and other drugs, or vice versa.  In any
case, if her professional life was a mess, there could be no mistake that her
personal life was worse.  She managed to isolate herself with antisocial
behaviour evident with drug induced highs, and depressive or hungover lows. 
One by one or in droves, friends and acquaintances gradually had enough. 
Tania’s circle of friends, much like her circle of influence, shrank
accordingly. 

Devlin glossed over some of the names from Glen’s list,
but not all.  Many recent readers knew Tania to some degree; Ikel was her
dealer for a time, and David was her counsellor of some description.  Perhaps
the others were there too, mentioned by reference instead of name. 

It could easily have been overlooked, but Devlin also
noted his association to her; the guy he killed was her relative.  That Tania
didn’t broach this point when they’d met spoke more of her isolation than any
remarkable forgiveness on her part.

About the only thing that was improving in Tania’s life
was the volume of police interest.  The more Devlin read, the more he accepted that
police sources constituted at least part of the repository that the Research
Interface accessed.  She had a few convictions, each for relatively minor
incursions against public decency, and episodes of drink-driving, public
drunkenness and assault. 

Devlin identified references to the accident that killed
the Detective’s daughter, Whitely’s wife.  In reading the media reports of the
accident and public outcry that ensued from her acquittal, he felt renewed
sadness for both the Detective and Whitely.  The tabloids had obviously latched
onto the story and went the extra mile to paint Tania as the one who destroyed
lives, particularly the lives of Whitely and the Detective.  As much as he
understood the popular outrage, Devlin also empathised with Tania for how she
was portrayed.  Except that the Detective’s account confirmed everything that
was and wasn’t in the media releases, Devlin felt for how she was demonised. 

She was involved in a mass of other incidents ranging from
corporate fraud to theft and ultimately to narcotics, for which she’d been
spared convictions, typically for a lack of evidence or dubious levels of
involvement.  The popular press kept her close, and it seemed like the
slightest hint of Police suspicion was enough for her to return to the public
eye.  Devlin couldn’t help but be sceptical as to whether the media was
following the Police, or vice versa.  There could be no denying that the media
got their information from somewhere.

“So what does this tell us?” Lori asked as soon as she
finished reading.  She ran her fingers through her short hair, and tried in
vain to draw some imaginary bulk into what would have been a ponytail had her hair
been longer.  “It tells me…”

Glen appeared again.  “Thanks Lori, but I don’t want to
hear what it tells you, though I appreciate your refined instruction on the
finer points of my Research Interface.  It’s nothing personal, I just don’t
want your opinion to taint the developing thoughts of Devlin here.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Lori asked, clearly
expecting more of a reprimand. 

“Do what you like, but not here.”  He thrust his chin at
the door. Lori stood and left the bunker, dragging her hand casually over
Devlin’s shoulder as she passed.

Comfortable that he was now alone with Devlin, Glen looked
at the keyboard and asked., “So now what are you going to do?”

“Tim?  Tania’s brother?” Devlin asked tentatively, as if
subtly asking for Glen’s guidance or concurrence.

“Why him?”

“Because David as much as suggested some responsibility
for his death, so surely that’s something.”

“I’d suggest that such an investigation at this time
wouldn’t help you.”

“Alright,” Devlin thought for a moment.  “I want to know
about the guy from Angie’s message.  I expected to see his name somewhere in
Tania’s history.”  He edged himself closer to the keyboard and started keying
in all of the names and details mentioned in Angie’s message. 

Glen nodded his concurrence with every detail he saw
typed.  He smiled as soon as he saw Devlin execute the search.

It was remarkable how the Research Interface charted Nebojsa’s
history.  He’d managed to be granted asylum from the former Yugoslavia in what
was later red flagged as an administrative error.  Only after he’d been
welcomed did new information come to light that he had more to fear from
retribution than persecution in his homeland.  Some bureaucrat had buried the
truth rather than expose his department’s mistake.  In a stroke of pen, he’d
been allowed to re-invent himself as an impoverished, wartime refugee ready to
embrace a new country and a new start.  Devlin recognised Tania’s brother’s
name as the bureaucrat, surely localising the fallout from his sister’s error. 

The Research Interface was awash with pictures of Nebojsa with
famous and less famous faces.  Whether or not he was genuinely an orphan on
coming to this country, it seemed that he now had no shortage of friends.

The guy was an animal too.  Devlin waded through massed
evidence, not just speculation which proved that Angie was only one of many to
be victimised by the guy.  He didn’t bother counting them; that the list only
started with his arrival in this country suggested that there were surely
others, and he wondered what the guy had done beforehand.

It was obvious too that the guy was being closely
followed, but less clear as to who or which organisation, or
organisations
,
were keeping tabs on him.  Devlin was comforted that it was more than likely
Police, but that only spawned thoughts as to why he would be allowed to
continue.  Devlin also marvelled how appropriate his real name was.  Nebojsa. 
It meant ‘fearless’. 

“Everyone’s suggested that LastGasp’ sees information
being passed onto Police.  So why’s this guy still around?” Devlin asked with
more than a little puzzlement.  “Surely he should be locked up …or euthanized.”

“Derrell thought the same thing.  But what does this tell
you?” Glen asked, watching Devlin closely, but he fell short of any attempt to make
eye contact, as if he was looking more to gauge Devlin’s reaction than engage
him.  “I’ll tell you almost anything you want to know.”

“I don’t get it,” Devlin began.  “Maybe I should be
looking at Angie and not this guy.”

“Or maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”

Devlin looked over the Research Interface again, this time
less pressured to read quickly.  “I feel like I’m looking for something, and
when I find it, it’s not going to be good for me, you or LastGasp’ either.”

“I could care less what happens to LastGaspStore. 
Technically, it isn’t even mine now, anyway.”

“But ….”

“I’ve never cared that LastGasp’ persists for my own
gains.  I’m not so naïve as to think that you’re not capable of the maths
necessary to work out that you guys are all paid inordinately highly for what
is essentially a free internet service.  Clearly I’m paying you out of my own
pocket rather than the proceeds of whatever sponsorship the site generates. 

“As I said when we first met, I’m more interested in the
service that LastGaspStore provides.  I was sure that the world would see it
the same way, and on the main, I’ve been right.”

“But regardless of whether it’s
yours
or not, it’s
still your baby.”

“Bastard child is more accurate.  I’ve been forced to see
the good and bad, the best and the worst of people, and then I’ve seen it
corrupted.”

“So why don’t you kill it?  Terminate LastGasp’ and just
walk away.  Surely the money that you’d be able to walk away with would buy a
clear conscience.”

“I’ve been trying to for years.  The problem is that at
inception I didn’t realise that LastGaspStore was so corruptible.  Of course I
understood the attractiveness of the repository, but not the extent to which it
could be exploited.  I couldn’t walk away, in much the same way that a nuclear
power could hardly leave their weapons in the hands of some apes just because
they’d grown weary of their responsibility.  Whether I liked it or not, I was
trapped by my creation.”

Devlin picked up the semantics of what he’d heard.  “You
said,
was
trapped.”

“Indeed I did.  Initially I thought like Wonka and his
chocolate factory.  I couldn’t walk away, but I could retire, leaving it in the
hands of someone I trusted.  And you’d think it would be simple. 

“Where everyone before Derrell had issues about my vision
to be a passive observer in the simple service of delivering a posthumous
message, Derrell changed the rules.  He was the one who suggested that my
vision was flawed, and the one who suggested that I needed the means to do a
little homework.”