Poison City (37 page)

She looks . . . puzzled.

‘Hello there, love,’ she says.

‘Armitage.’

A pause.

‘Everything all right?’

I nod.

She smiles kindly. ‘It’s just . . . you’re acting a bit weird, like.’

I straighten up. ‘Weird? Armitage, I’ve just witnessed people getting murdered, violated – cut into pieces. Why the fuck
wouldn’t
I be acting weird?’

She nods calmly. ‘Right you are.’ She glances at the ceiling. A slight frown appears, as if she’s seen something up there she doesn’t like.

‘What are you doing down here?’

‘Just . . . picking something up.’

‘How are you doing that? We don’t have access.’

‘Ranson. He . . . gave me access.’

She nods again, then sighs and takes a step forward. I shift slightly, ready for an attack. Armitage stops and frowns.

‘Is that blood?’ Steel in her voice now.

I look down. My jacket has opened slightly. Ranson’s blood is all over my shirt.

‘Oh, London. What have you done?’

I sigh. ‘Ranson was there.’

‘Where?’

‘At the manor. Last night. I saw him. He’s the one who set the SSA after us. He deleted the sin-eater entries in GHOST. He . . . he set me up, Armitage. He . . .’ I swallow past the huge lump or rage in my throat. ‘He’s the one who got Becca killed.’

Her face tightens with shock. ‘You sure about that?’

I nod.

‘Where’s Ranson now?’

I shake my head slightly.

‘London?’

‘He’s . . . he’s dead. I killed him.’

Armitage’s shoulders slump. She looks at me sadly. ‘London. You stupid bloody bugger. That’s murder.’

‘It’s not murder. It’s justice.’

‘That’s not for you to decide!’ she shouts, suddenly furious. ‘We’re the
police
, Tau. We don’t hand out death sentences. We catch the bad guys and let the courts decide.’

I shout back. ‘Are you insane! The
courts
? Most of the judiciary were at that manor last night! They don’t prosecute the crooks. They
are
the fucking crooks. The inmates control the asylum, Armitage. There
is
no justice anymore. Not after what we saw last night.’

‘So . . . what? You’re going to decide, are you? Judge, jury, executioner?’

‘Why not? I’m a good man. I know what’s right and wrong.’

‘No. You don’t! You just murdered someone! You know what’s right and wrong according to
you
. I might think differently. So might Parker. Or Russells. That’s what the courts are there for.’

‘The courts are compromised,’ I say wearily.

‘Fine. Whatever.’

She doesn’t move.

‘Can I go now?’ I ask.

‘That depends on what you’re hiding behind your back.’

I sigh. There’s still a chance. A possibility, however slim, that I can make her understand. ‘Lilith got me out of prison.’

‘Lilith?’ She frowns sceptically, like she’s trying to decide if I’ve gone mad.

‘She’s going to tell me who Cally’s killer is. Get the information from her sin-eater.’

‘What’s the point? He still won’t know what he did.’

‘He will. She promised to . . .’ I hesitate, realizing how terrible it all sounds. Then I straighten up. ‘She promised to kill him. So all his sins return to the owners.’

‘But . . . why would she do that? She needs him to find this first sin.’

‘She doesn’t. Not anymore.’

She sags slightly, compassion clear on her face. ‘London,’ she says softly. ‘What have you done? Just tell me, lad.’

‘Let me pass, Armitage. I don’t want us to fight.’

‘You know I can’t.’

And then she comes for me. It’s so unexpected I take a moment to react. This woman in her fifties sprinting towards me, her eyes dark with anger. I duck back into the evidence room, throw my weight behind the door.

She smashes into it before I can get it closed. There’s a gap of about twenty centimetres between us. I grit my teeth and push. The gap starts to narrow.

There’s a lurch and the door slams into my head. I cry out in pain, drop the box containing Jengo’s soul. It clatters onto the tiles, clearly visible from the other side of the door. I swear, try to stretch out my foot to pull it back towards me. Armitage uses the distraction to push the door wider.

I take my weight off the door, yanking it open. Armitage stumbles inside, moving past me and righting herself against the metal shelves. I hook my foot around the little plastic box, kick it out into the passage, then lunge through the door and pull it shut, the automatic locks coming into play.

Armitage hits the other side.

‘London, don’t do this!’

I slide down the door onto my backside. She’s banging on the door. Eshu will spot her soon. I need to move.

I push myself to my feet, pick up Jengo’s soul, and make my way back along the corridor. I move through the hub straight into the entrance foyer. There’s a security guard on duty. He nods at me. I nod back, holding the jacket closed across my blood-stained shirt.

Out into the warm evening air. As soon as I’m out of sight of the doors I sprint around the side of the building and head for the underground garage, leaping down the steps and into my Land Rover.

Up the ramp with a screech of tyres and heading towards the gates. They swing open and I release a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. Out and down under the freeway, then loop up and around, feeding back into the traffic.

I take a shaky breath, pat my pocket where Jengo’s soul rests.

The first part is done.

Chapter 19

I meet Lilith outside a KFC on Victoria Street. She’s sitting at an outside table that’s been cemented into the sidewalk, watching the queue that snakes out the door and onto the sidewalk. There’s an amused expression on her face.

I sit down opposite her. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘That lot. All they’re bothered about is filling their stomachs. I can look into each and every one of their minds and there’s absolutely nothing there beyond attaining their next meal.’ She shifts her dark gaze to me. ‘I envy that.’

I frown. ‘Why? That’s not living. It’s just . . . surviving. People with no goals. No ambition.’

She tuts at me. ‘So judgemental, Gideon. Just because they are forced into survival mode does not mean they are not ambitious. It means they do not have the means to attain their ambition.’

‘Blame the government, then.’

‘There are any number of people to blame. Parents, teachers, themselves.’ She shrugs. ‘After tonight it will not matter.’

‘What will happen to them?’

‘It depends on whether they are good people or not. That’s what everything will come down to. One simple question. Are you a good person, or are you not.’

I stare at her, then shift my gaze to the queue. Laughter. A couple arguing about something. A drunk staggering, leaning against the person in front of him. A little kid asking about the toy that comes with her kid’s meal.

For the first time since Lilith’s arrival in my jail cell I have second thoughts. What I’m doing . . . there’s nothing to compare it to, no way of knowing what comes after. With my actions I’m changing the entire world.

But the thing is, I’ll take the blame. I’ll stand up and say it was me, for better or worse. I’ll own my actions. Which, admittedly, will be small comfort to those who don’t come through it in one piece.

To be honest, I don’t think
I’ll
come through it in once piece. Not after I get my hands on Cally’s killer.

Thinking of Cally makes me straighten up, my doubts forgotten. She’s why I’m doing this. I reach into my pocket and take out the plastic box, lay it on the table between us.

Lilith stares at it hungrily. She reaches into her shirt pocket and takes out a folded piece of paper. She slides it over to me.

I can see her neat, cursive writing through the paper. I reach out. My hand is shaking. My fingers rest on it and I pull it towards me. Lilith does the same with Jengo’s soul.

I open the paper and smooth it out. My heart is hammering in my chest. My mouth is dry.

My eyes skim over the words. I force myself to read them again and again.

Timothy Evans. 5 Hunter Crescent, Morningside.

My eyes burn as I stare at the name and address. For three years I’ve been after this guy. Morningside? That’s only a few kays from where I’m sitting now. I’ve probably driven past the fucker on my way to work.

‘Is it worth it?’ Lilith asks.

‘I don’t know.’ I drag my eyes away from the paper. ‘How will I know? When he has his memories back?’

‘I’ll text you when I’ve found the Sinwalker. When I no longer need my sin-eater.’

I nod, get to my feet. I look down at her. ‘You’ll keep your word? Only people who . . . deserve it?’ I realise how stupid and naive this sounds as soon as I say it. I think back to that night in the car, when I tricked them into driving into the wards around Delphic Division. I’d been thinking that night about how naive I was for trusting Kincaid. Am I doing it again?

She laughs. ‘Oh yes, Gideon. Only people on the naughty list will be judged.’

I shake my head. Hesitate. A feeling of unease building.

‘On you go then,’ she says. ‘Go and get your revenge. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?’

It is. Of course it is. I need to get this person. He has to be punished. Not just him, but all those people at the manor. All the people just like them.

I return to my car. By the time I climb inside Lilith has vanished.

Timothy Evans’ place is utterly nondescript. A single-storey, three bedroom house that needs a coat of paint. Kids’ toys litter a slightly overgrown lawn.

I stare at these toys from where I’m parked across the street. I’d never even entertained the thought that Cally’s killer would have children of his own. How could anyone with his own kids do something like that? It doesn’t make sense to me.

I open the glove compartment and take out a creased photograph of Cally. It was taken on the esplanade when she was trying to learn how to roller blade. She’s soaring past the camera as I take the picture, her eyes wide with fear and exhilaration, screaming with delight.

She was dead five days after the photograph was taken.

I stare at her, study every plane of her face, stoking the fury, feeling the rage rising inside me like a tide of flame, burning through my veins.

A few minutes later a minivan pulls up outside the house. An Alsatian appears at the gate, barking and wagging its tail. The electric gate slides open and the van drives in, stopping in front of the garage.

I lean forward, watching as two kids, a girl and a boy, hop out and run after the dog. A woman climbs out the passenger side, calling to the kids as she unlocks the front door and heads inside.

The kids and the dog follow her.

And then Timothy Evans climbs out from behind the wheel.

I stare at him, burning every detail of his face into my mind. He’s about 5'8", balding, a pale blue golf shirt tucked into his jeans.

He looks utterly . . . normal.

I’d only ever seen the briefest glimpse of him, and he’d been wearing a cap at the time. But still. I didn’t expect him to look like . . . like a school teacher.

I should know better by now, especially after the last few days. Evil can wear the blandest of faces.

He grabs some grocery bags from the back of the car and carries them into the house, closing the door behind him. I get quickly out of the car, wanting to make my move while the dog is inside the house. I climb over the gate, hurry to the front door. I listen, can’t hear anything.

I carefully turn the handle and open the door a crack. I peer inside. A passage ends at the kitchen before turning to the left. The sounds of the Cartoon Network blast suddenly from the right. The kids are occupied. Mum and dad in the kitchen.

I enter the house, pause and peer into the lounge. The kids are seated directly below a massive LCD screen, utterly transfixed.

I move quietly past the door, heading towards the left turn in the passage. The kitchen door is wide open. I can hear plates clinking, the low murmur of conversation. The wife appears, her hand on the door, glancing over her shoulder as Evans says something to her.

I freeze, halfway between the kitchen and the front door.

‘What?’ the woman says. She waits. Then her hand leaves the door and she turns back into the kitchen. ‘Why did you promise them pizza? They had it yesterday.’

I dart past the door, left. Doors open to either side. Kids’ rooms, bathroom, and . . . Ah. An office. Perfect. He’ll either come here or the bathroom when the memories hit. I’m betting on it being here.

I sit in the darkness for the next four hours. I listen to the family sounds echoing through the house, kids squabbling, complaining about having to go to bed, being ordered to brush their teeth, that kind of thing. All the sounds a normal family makes.