Sequela (36 page)

'In the absence of any clear perpetrator for this unlikely attack we must ask ourselves, could it be the will of God? Whether metaphorically or actually an act of God, God's point is made. And even if perpetrated by a sick soul who wishes nothing but harm on his fellow humans, by a lost individual seeking revenge for some private wrong, we cannot deny that any act perpetrated under the eyes of God, as all acts are, must be His will. God is a paradox. That He may use agents of evil even for His own powers of healing is testament to His all-powerful nature.

'Are you one of the ones looking up at Kester Lowe on his pedestal now? If you are, I ask you to look past him, look past your bomber hero to the sky above him and see your true hero, Jesus, expansive as the Universe, opening His arms to forgive all below him.

'And seeing His open arms, let us not mistake His forgiveness. Our merciful God is not shy of punishment when that punishment is the conduit for change and enlightenment, when the absence of punishment may allow widespread folly to cement its grip on our erstwhile congregation. Let us strive to understand what God's purpose is and join in bringing his plans to fruition. What now for those souls He sought to educate?

'Yes, it is in His nature to forgive the greatest of sins, but does this mean we should let sin run amuck? Of course not. We are His children and we are educated by His word. We know right and wrong and we can choose to expunge the wrongdoing that is happening before our eyes. We must understand that sometimes punishment is the vehicle of His forgiveness. And so, should it be necessary, we must expect punishment. Nay, children, we should welcome punishment in the glorious knowledge that where the Father punishes, the Son will always forgive.

'And should it be necessary? That is up to each of you. Without the sin, there need be no punishment.

'Now is the time to take the hand of the Real Church and repent. Now, on the eve of the Real Church's expulsion from the City, let us reconsider the perceived absence of religion in the City's rotting heart. Let us say loud and clear to our politicians, our leaders: we need a guide. We need a guide here and now, not just without but within those walls, a guide to protect us all and to bring us all to the right path, to lead us away from abuse and degradation, away from the worship of false idols. To lead us home to Jesus.'

Blotch stepped back from the parapet, blobs of light obscuring his vision, as if he were looking through a giant microscope slide. He felt larger than himself, powerful. God had surely spoken through him. And God would surely see good to move his promotion along. He picked up his notes from the parapet. It was right to take out the Son/Father, good cop/bad cop analogy, he thought. He was getting the hang of this.

'Not bad at all, Blotch.' Clarke was standing just inside the door.

'Thank you, Your Reverence,' Blotch said, allowing himself to sound pleased.

'Rather good in fact.'

Blotch watched as Clarke came across the room towards him, parts of his body erased by the light blobs, nightmarish.

'I've just put in a second request to the City authorities for a meeting with the Mayor. Hopefully it should come across the Mayor's desk while your words are still fresh in his head. We'll get back in there yet.'

-o-

Dee sat in the bar with John and Betta, trying her best to shake the dark mood that hung over her. It was hard when all they would talk about was bloody Kester and his fashion shows. And even harder were the pitying and apologetic looks they shot her every time they said something they thought might get to her.

'I'm so excited,' Betta said. 'It's going to be brilliant! Sorry Dee.'

'It's going to be pretty similar to the last one,' John said, taking a sip of his pint.

John was fine to be with. He wouldn't apologise for anything.

'No, no,' Betta said, 'it'll be totally different – different viruses, different band, different models.'

'I don't know why you're so excited about meeting the models,' John said. 'They were just plebs two weeks ago. Two weeks of model training won't have changed them. They're not rich or anything.'

Dee smirked.

'You're such a spoilsport, John,' Betta said. 'You loved the last one. Don't pretend you didn't.'

'It was pretty cool,' John said. 'But then that guy punched me.'

'John, there's always some guy who punches you – you need to get less drunk at these things or get over it.'

'What's he getting over?' Sienna asked, sliding into the booth beside Betta.

'Hi,' said John. 'Getting punched when I'm drunk.'

'Fair enough,' Sienna said.

The barman turned up the sound on the display and most of the people in the bar stopped what they were doing to watch, assuming something interesting must be on. It was another Real Church broadcast being reported on the news.

'God,' said Dee, 'you can't get away from them. When will they give it a rest?'

'Not until they've got whatever it is they want,' John said.

'So not until they bring down the City culture – they'll be at it for a while then,' Betta said. 'Hey, do you think they did it, like all the sites are saying?'

Dee watched her. It was hard to believe that she was really interested in all this stuff. Dee had chosen to believe in the past that Betta's bimboid exterior was cover for a serious scientific intelligence, but she was beginning to doubt it. The more time she spent with Betta, particularly with Sienna around, the more she was annoyed by her.

'You mean did they release the virus?' John asked.

'Yeah, why not?' Betta said.

'Because they're a bunch of fundamentalist incompetents?' Dee said. She felt her heart rate rising and concentrated on holding her glass in a relaxed fashion. Was it that obvious it was them?

'Like you say,' Betta said, 'the attack didn't work. They're incompetent. Clearly planned and executed by morons. Super-quick to come out with a sermon weren't they? But here's the worrying thing – me and Sienna were talking about it – the only place the virus could have come from is the department –'

'The MoD you mean,' Dee said. 'Kester was on secondment when he made the virus. Why would there be anything at the department?'

Dee had been dreading this moment since she saw the first news report about the attack. But everything was clean. There was no evidence. And they couldn't see her desires – to see Kester's viruses ripping across the City, to see him strung up by an angry mob in the square outside V. Desires she hadn't seen
fulfilled
this time, but the second virus…she swallowed back a sick excitement, was momentarily repulsed by herself.

'True, there shouldn't be anything at the department, but whose security is more lax?' Betta raised her eyebrows.

'Betta, you've got some Scooby-Doo complex going on,' John said, 'I swear it. People are copying viral technologies all the time – it's not rocket science. If you ask me it's probably come from the Chinese. They're masters at copying military technologies. Who wants a drink?'

A chorus of 'me's rang out from the table, and one or two from further afield.

'Alright, don't pen me in then,' John said. 'Come on, move your arse.'

'So what does this new announcement mean?' Sienna egged Betta on. 'They made an announcement just
after
the attack. Does this mean another attack has already happened and we don't know about it yet? Or that one is going to happen at the next fashion show? Didn't it sound a little bit like an ultimatum to you?' She put on a New York accent. 'It would be a shame if something bad were to happen to your precious Ciddy – maybe if you were to, eh, let us back in we might be able to mitigate that risk for you boys.'

'I've been keeping a good eye on the sites and the general consensus is that even if they were planning it, they could never pull it off. They've got lucky once, but the first attack came through the Pigs and there's no way they'll get past the screening twice. John was just telling me that V have loaned Kester out as a consultant to the Pig consortium to advise them on any possible threats. He's redesigning their screening process to account for any methods he knows about for wrapping malicious viruses in with their product.'

'So that's the end of it then?' Dee said. 'And Kester's the big hero.' The word caught in her throat. She hoped the disappointment hadn't come through in her voice.

'That's our boy,' John said, putting down a large G&T in front of each of them.

'John,' Betta said, 'you didn't even ask us what we wanted.'

'I know what every lady wants,' John said.

'Get off.' Betta shoved him as he sat back down deliberately close to her.

Sienna stared up at the television for a moment. 'Of course, if they've got another virus, who knows – they might manage to sell it on to someone who does have the wherewithal to effect some kind of attack,' she said.

'Oh please,' John said. 'I'm with Dee on this – if it is the Real Church they're incompetent, they got lucky. And they didn't even get that lucky – it came to nothing in the end. They may not even have another virus. We don't know until someone finds out how they got the first one.'

'But it could be bad news if it turns out it's from us,' Betta said.

'It's not from us,' Dee said, then shook her head. They couldn't get suspicious.

'And how do you know?' Betta said. 'You keep saying it's not but how can you be sure?'

'We don't have any record of the project. It was black-coded – short of destroying Kester's brain it couldn't be any more secure.'

'Oh.' Betta's face fell. 'I suppose.'

'Plus,' Dee said, 'whoever did it would be unlikely to have the knowhow and equipment to manufacture the thing from scratch themselves – the Church almost certainly doesn't.' She paused for a moment. 'So they must have got a live sample from somewhere. And when I say somewhere I mean the MoD – another Government cock-up – what a surprise.'

'Don't be dull,' Betta said, pouting.

'Sorry, mate.' John put an arm around Betta. 'I know you sorely wanted us to be involved in a terrorist conspiracy to overthrow my best friend's employers.'

'So there's someone big involved,' Sienna said. Her eyes misted over as she retreated back into thoughts of conspiracy. 'They might attack again after all.'

'Maybe,' Dee said, throwing the rest of her drink down her throat. 'V's second big event is coming up – it's good timing.'

Betta and Sienna looked at Dee, then back at each other and huddled into the corner, continuing their discussion. John rolled his eyes at the ceiling and gazed at Dee for a minute.

'I can't believe you're encouraging them.'

She laughed without emotion and shrugged. Why was she? She wasn't sure. Did she really want it to succeed? Suddenly all their Books beeped at once. Betta and Sienna started rummaging in their bags. Betta got there first.

'Oh what?' she said. 'The Director's sent round an interview schedule from the Met – we're all on it.'

John shook his head. He and Dee ignored their Books.

'You know it is pretty cool though, isn't it?' John said. 'How Kester came to the rescue like that? You know he's working on some pretty cool stuff at the moment – you remember how –'

'John.' Dee stared at John with sharks' eyes, her white face hardening further. No, even John was becoming insufferable. He wanted her and Kester to talk again, if only to repair his own social scene. No doubt Kester claimed to be working on his screens. 'I don't want to know.'

'No, it's exciting – listen, he's –'  

'John.' Dee stood up to leave. 'I'd rather listen to brown noise.'

-o-

Cherry nursed her small glass of white port, taking pleasure in the thick slick of spirit that slid down the glass after each sip. A second glass sat next to it. It struck her as a late-night drink, a drink to be had in the bar of an old hotel, possibly with an old gentleman, but in the darkness of the wine bar it seemed allowable, even at this early hour. The place was half full and she enjoyed the unspoken pact she had taken with the rest of the clientele to make the bar another time and place, to make it midnight, winter, two hundred years ago.

On the way over, everything had been Kester Lowe. It looked like the Church's plan had backfired in style, which brought a smile to Cherry's lips. She had stopped to watch one of the news clips on the street – Kester being made to look more like a hero than anything, talking like an idealist and a true scientist. He was quite a good-looking guy, she had decided. When she had first arrived at V this hadn't struck her, but his lack of self-regard was charming and the more she saw his face, the more she liked it. Though his clothes were chosen for him, she liked the way he picked off all the advertisements and logos – in his own quiet way he was nobody's man. Whether that was really him or whether it was the V image department, of course, was anyone's guess.