Acolyte (2 page)

*

Revival had first emerged almost fourteen years earlier: the ability to talk to the recently deceased, the audible responses coming from the dead's own lips.

Why it had emerged – and what it really
was
– were mysteries that had resisted years of intensive research. Yet while the research had failed to explain the origin of revival, it had instead provided a foundation for its use as a forensic tool. It was established that a reviver had a close emotional link to the dead subject during revival, one that made it clear when the subject was telling the truth. You didn't just get testimony from the dead – you knew when they lied or were evasive, and the questioning could establish the facts with absolute certainty.

But you had to be quick. Once you'd brought a subject back, the revival might only last a couple of minutes, and once it was over, that was all you got. It was impossible to revive the same subject twice.

Its use in courtrooms around the world had rapidly become a cornerstone of the justice system; public opinion – initially uneasy with the process – was mostly won over by the sheer weight of success.

Mostly.

Resistance to the technique had been led by the Afterlifers, an uneasy affiliation of disparate religious groups that had one shared mantra: that revival was a kind of sacrilege, a blasphemy. In the early days of revival, this belief had been extreme and focused, leading to violent protests and threats to the fledging Forensic Revival Service, but the protests had been small-scale and relatively short-lived. Public opinion placed pragmatism above dogma and stayed on the side of the revivers.

Then, twelve months ago, the Afterlifers had found anonymous backers with deep pockets. With the help of the extra funding they managed to make a dent in the public support of revival. Those in charge of the FRS had grown nervous, and responded with endless tinkering to guidelines and procedures.

In the end, that meant one thing: more paperwork.

‘Morning, Jonah. How's life?'

The Northern Irish accent was unmistakeable. Jonah looked around and smiled at his friend. ‘Morning, Never,' he said. ‘Right now, life's not so great.'

‘Paperwork, eh?' said Never Geary, looking at the forms on Jonah's screen. ‘Lucky you.' As a technician, Never's role was to set up and monitor the recording equipment required for a revival – three cameras to capture every moment of the session. Unlike revivers, technicians had very little paperwork to fill in, and weren't needed in court. The only testimony they had to worry about came in a variety of audio and video formats.

‘Give the Afterlifers a few more months,' said Jonah. ‘I'm sure they can make your life awkward too.'

‘I don't doubt that,' said Never. ‘Meantime, focus on the good stuff. Annabel's back in a week or two, right?'

Jonah nodded. She was coming back the week before Valentine's Day.

‘So look forward to that and don't worry about the Afterlifers.' Someone across the office called Never's name. ‘Gotta dash. See you later, right?'

‘Right.'
Damn
, Jonah thought. Annabel was back soon, and he really wasn't looking forward to it. Compared to thinking about the mess their relationship had become, paperwork didn't seem nearly so bad.

After another hour of reviewing the Piotr Zales case, the paperwork was complete. Jonah went to the canteen and made himself a coffee. When he sat, the pain in his chest flared a little, the way it did now and again. It was January, and the cold weather wasn't suiting him.

He gave his ribs a gentle rub until the pain eased, then swigged his drink. There was one thing about serious injuries that you didn't appreciate until they happened to you, he thought – they keep on making their presence felt long after everyone else has forgotten about them.

And how long had it been? Seventeen months? Seventeen months since he'd been shot in the chest, the bullet shattering a rib and almost killing him. Seventeen months since he'd escaped a biotech research facility as it burned to the ground, then watched as bodies on fire fell from the roof.

The nightmares still came regularly. Not just of the fire, of course. It hadn't only been
people
who had died that night.

Among the dead was Michael Andreas, the biotech entrepreneur whose company owned the facility. Andreas had unwittingly freed something from an ancient prison, a prison constructed from
souls
, and the creature had possessed him. But Andreas had fought back; knowing that the creature was vulnerable in a mortal body, Andreas consigned them both to a terrible death in the inferno that the building had become. He had saved humanity
from a creature that had destroyed countless worlds, but hardly anyone would ever know it.

Jonah, Never and Annabel had been among the few to make it out alive, and the truth of what had happened wasn't something they could ever speak about openly.

Ah, Annabel.
Of all the things that had happened in the aftermath, Annabel Harker was the one that most vexed him.

He'd made a full recovery, or so his doctors told him – it didn't feel like it. Every morning, he felt the same deep exhaustion that made getting out of bed a challenge and getting through the day a chore. Things had improved as his relationship with Annabel had blossomed, but in the time since, she had devoted herself to finding out all she could about Andreas, to the point of obsession. She spent so much time away, now, and he was convinced that his dark moods were partly to blame.

He loved her, but he knew that he was losing her. He could feel another pain in his chest and it had nothing to do with a bullet.

*

As Jonah returned to his desk, he was intercepted.

‘Hugo wants a word with us,' said Never. Hugo Adler was the head of the Central East Coast FRS – their boss.

‘What about?' said Jonah, but all he got was a shrug.

Most of the FRS was open plan, but Hugo had an office in the corner. As Jonah raised his hand to knock, Never just opened the door and went in, smiling back at Jonah.

‘You wanted to see us?' said Never.

‘Ah, yes,' said Hugo. ‘Close that, would you?' He nodded to the open door and Jonah obliged. ‘I wanted to have a little talk with you both about the Afterlifer situation, and the recent procedural changes. I know there's been some … dissatisfaction.'

‘Well,' said Jonah, ‘the paperwork is a bit more than we'd like, I guess.' He glanced at Never, who gave him raised eyebrows:
Is that all?
‘OK, yes, it's crazy. It feels like you have to answer the
same question in a hundred different ways, and that one mistake could be picked up in court and used to beat you over the head.' Jonah didn't like being in court, not one bit. Having his reputation assaulted head-on by arrogant overpaid assholes wasn't his idea of time well spent.

‘I know,' said Hugo. ‘I'm pushing for it to be streamlined, but these things take time. Part of the problem with the current procedures is that they were largely drawn up by Robert and his legal team.' He was referring to Robert Thorne, the FRS Director. ‘They rushed it and didn't consult the rest of us. Inevitably, there are weaknesses.'

‘Weaknesses?' said Jonah. ‘They're damn near crippling.'

Hugo nodded. ‘It was a panic measure, but I can understand why they panicked. It was a shock to all of us how easily the Afterlifers got their consent initiative as federal law, and our procedures had to be bolstered quickly.'

Jonah and Never both nodded. It
had
been a shock. Revival's legal status mirrored that of autopsy; only serious religious objection could typically overrule its use, and the burden of proof was on those seeking denial. Two months ago the Afterlifers had managed to get laws passed to shift that burden. Previously, revival was entirely at the discretion of the police and FRS staff. Now, either an immediate relative had to give permission, or a warrant was required. It meant that delays were more frequent, and for revival delays were a serious problem – the ideal scenario was to revive a subject in the location they'd been found, as soon as possible. Delays could necessitate moving a body from a crime scene and storing it, which made revival much harder.

This, of course, had been the intention. What sounded to the public like a reasonable piece of law was really aimed at making revival more difficult, more expensive, and hence less common.

‘Anyway,' said Hugo, ‘I hope they'll not make the mistake of rushing things in future, which is why I've put your names forward.'

‘You put my name forward?' said Never, alarmed. ‘What for?'

‘To consult on procedural improvements,' said Hugo. ‘Help fix the paperwork problems.'

‘Techs don't have any paperwork problems …' said Never, then he frowned. ‘Uh oh.'

‘We need to assume the worst-case scenario about some of the other Afterlifer initiatives being proposed, Never. So yes, Robert and his team are suggesting further changes, and it'll affect everyone. You'll be able to guide that process, and make sure the changes are the
right
ones.'

‘Sounds terrible,' said Never. ‘I'll end up filling in reams of paperwork and knowing it's
my fault.
'

‘It's frustrating, I know,' said Hugo, ‘but if we push hard I think we can make sure the end result is positive. There'll be a preliminary meeting in three weeks with representatives from all the FRS offices. They'll also be considering any ideas to counter Afterlifer efforts.'

‘Will any private firms be consulted?' asked Jonah. ‘They're surely feeling threatened by the Afterlifers, too, and we need all the allies we can get.' Revival wasn't solely used for criminal investigation; companies offered the services of private revivers to the grieving, allowing relatives to make peace and say their goodbyes. Those revivers were paid far more than their FRS counterparts, which sometimes made it hard for the FRS to hold on to staff. And it wasn't just the money, to be fair. Private revivers were there purely to help the family and the deceased. With forensic revival, once questioning was completed there was often no time left for the relatives. Jonah could certainly see the appeal.

‘No,' said Hugo. ‘Private revival is already based around the prior consent of the deceased so it isn't affected by current Afterlifer initiatives. The companies are certainly anxious about a negative portrayal of revival, but they're just hoping that the impact on them will be limited. They're no different from Robert
Thorne, really. Crossing their fingers, too scared to take the fight to the Afterlifers.'

‘Agreed,' said Never. ‘Everyone's just kissing their asses and hoping it'll all be fine.'

Jonah nodded.

‘I'm glad you both agree,' said Hugo. ‘Because there was something else. A case has come up this morning. A sensitive one.'

‘Sensitive?' said Jonah. ‘In what way?'

Hugo smiled. ‘How would you feel about pissing off some Afterlifers?'

Jonah drove the marked FRS car, wondering what he was getting himself into.

‘This sounds like a fucking terrible idea,' said Never, in the passenger seat.

‘So why did you say yes?'

‘Hugo asked nicely,' said Never. He grinned. ‘“We need our best people there! Rock-solid dependable!” I respond well to flattery. It still sounds like an almighty cluster-fuck.'

‘It'll be fine,' Jonah said, with no real conviction. Successfully reviving the subject wasn't expected to be difficult, but there was no way Hugo was going to send out their less experienced people. Given the
complications.

They were on their way to Chesapeake Regional Medical Center to revive a fifteen-year-old boy who had been stabbed in the abdomen in a mugging late the night before. There had only been one eyewitness, who reported seeing someone run from the scene as the victim fell, but they hadn't been able to provide the police with much to go on.

The boy had been brought to the Emergency Department in Chesapeake Regional, unconscious and critical, where the medical team had managed to stabilize his condition. His mother stayed by his bedside all night but a sudden deterioration led to further emergency surgery. He had died shortly after ten that morning.

The police had asked the mother for revival permission, and
that was when the complication came out. The mother's permission wasn't an issue; she and her son had no problem with revival, and she even wished to attend, to speak to her son one last time. However, her ex-husband – the boy's father – did have a problem. Or he would have, when he found out.

The father's name was Clayton Fray, and he was a senior Afterlifer spokesman.

It was a grey area, Jonah knew. The current legislation meant that the permission of a parent or guardian was required, but it was unclear about what should be done in the case of a conflicting opinion. Nor was there anything in the law that compelled the police to
seek
that other opinion. The mother's permission was sufficient, and the Afterlifers could raise all the hell they wanted after the fact.

They arrived at the hospital, following the signs to the side entrance where they'd been told to bring in their equipment. Both Jonah and Never had been here before for revivals, but on those occasions they'd just used the main entrance. Jonah hoped the request to keep a low profile was purely for this sensitive case, and not an indication of a broader change of policy at the hospital.

As they approached in the car, a woman came out and waved, her detective's badge held up. Jonah stopped the car and wound down his window.

‘Detective Flores,' she said. She was in her mid-thirties and looked dog-tired. ‘My partner is Detective West, he's inside with the mother. He'll be supervising the questioning.'

‘I'm Jonah Miller. This is the tech for the case, Never Geary.'