Sins of the Father (24 page)

I remember, Daniel
, Leonard said.
But this is my job and I need to eat. I need money. We'll wait a little while longer. I'm sure Freddie will be along soon. Then, we'll kill some of the bad men later. I promise
.

It had been the same for the last hour. As they waited fruitlessly with the other mutants for Freddie's arrival, Daniel had kept up a constant refrain of complaints and entreaties inside Leonard's head. At times, worn down by Daniel's voice, it felt to Leonard as though his head was going to burst. The boy would not let it go: his good mood of a few hours earlier was gone and now all the boy lived for was vengeance. Still, wary of the consequences if he was not there when Freddie finally arrived, Leonard had tried to resist the little boy's will.

I don't want to wait
, Daniel said. As the boy's impatience grew, his voice became shriller.
I shouldn't have to! You promised me! I want to kill more bad men. I want to kill them now!

Every time Daniel spoke, his voice grew louder. To Leonard, it felt like the boy's voice was no longer just inside his head. Instead, the voice had seemed to grow so huge it was all around him. It was a rare thing for him to refuse to accede to Daniel's demands immediately, and he was beginning to regret it. Already, looking about him, he saw that some of the other mutants had begun to drift away. Dispirited, apparently convinced that Freddie wasn't coming, they had started to return to the hostel, grumbling and muttering amongst themselves. Soon, Leonard was the only one left.

All right
, he said at last.
I'll do what you want, Daniel. We'll go into the city. And we'll kill some more bad men
.

For Nathan Prendergast, the moment came as he went about his duties in Roderick Lowe's apartment.

He heard the buzz of a comms-terminal, indicating an incoming call on one of the secure encrypted lines to the apartment. Checking the call signature as he went to answer it, Prendergast recognised it at once.

"So, Arkady," he said, as the call connected and the image of the Russian mobster appeared on-screen. "To what do we owe this singular pleasure?"

"We have your donor," Arkady answered. "He's healthy, with an excellent medical history, and the gene-scan indicates there shouldn't be any rejection problems. He's en route to the hospital now."

"Excellent," Prendergast said. "I'm sure Mr Lowe will be thrilled when I tell him the news. I take it, as per our agreement, the donor is already brain-dead?"

"He will be by the time he reaches the hospital." Arkady's face as he spoke was so unreadable it might as well have been set in stone. "We hired a compliant telepath to ensure there will be no damage to the neuro-pathways when the donor's brain activity is neutralised. Be assured, he's exactly everything you asked for. The medical paperwork has been altered to make it appear he suffered a fatal brain haemorrhage. Mr Lowe will have a clean body. Even if the Judges decide to sniff around it, there will be nothing to suggest the donor died of anything other than natural causes."

"Good," Prendergast nodded with businesslike brusqueness. "Now, there is another matter. Mr Lowe instructed me to perform a routine security sweep after you relayed the news of Gruschenko's death. Our sources in the Justice Department indicate Gruschenko's killer claimed two more victims this morning. Their names are not important. However, it seems they were both relatives of some of Mr Lowe's past associates."

"You think Konrad's death may relate to some form of vendetta against Mr Lowe or his partners?" Arkady asked. "May I ask what was the nature of his association with the men in question?"

"You may not," Prendergast replied. "It could be the matter is entirely a coincidence. All the same, Mr Lowe is rightly concerned about his own security. I take it, as is common in your circles, you have initiated steps to ensure Gruschenko's assassin is punished?"

"A one-hundred-thousand credit bounty," Arkady grunted. "It is only a matter of time before someone tells us his name. When they do, we will take care of it."

"Again, excellent," Prendergast purred. "In the meantime, just to be on the safe side, I have taken the opportunity to beef up Mr Lowe's security."

"You want I should send some of my men to act as bodyguards?" Arkady said. "They could cover him at the hospital, during the operation, when he is at his most vulnerable. Say the word, and I can have them with you in fifteen minutes. I assure you, they are most competent."

"I'm sure they are," Prendergast smiled sarcastically. "However, I'm also sure they all have extensive criminal records. I think it is better if you leave that side of security to me, Arkady. After all, Mr Lowe is a respectable businessman. It wouldn't do for people to think he is the kind of man to associate with gangsters."

For Freddie Binns, the moment came as he sat in his apartment contemplating lost opportunities.

He had received some bad news earlier in the evening. In the wake of Jimmy Nayles's death, the decision had been reached by the shadowy organisation he worked for to suspend operations for a couple of days. For Freddie, who had three ex-wives and a gambling habit to support, it had seemed a disaster. If business was shut down, it meant two days without income.

It was all the fault of whichever jerk decided to kill Jimmy Nayles, he told himself as he sat in the living room flicking through the channels on his Tri-D player. He didn't care why Jimmy Nayles had been murdered, any more than he cared how or when: all that mattered to him was the fact the mob boss's sudden passing had curtailed his various money-making ventures. Between recruiting mutant labour, and fleecing the mutants for every credit he could get from them, Freddie usually made a pretty good living. Now though, he found himself in the midst of an unexpected financial crisis.

Guess I shouldn't have bet on the Seltics to beat the Saints, he thought as he dejectedly switched from the sports channels to the news. Ten grand on that bunch of losers? What was I thinking?

His biggest problem was that he had bet ten thousand credits he did not have. Between three sets of alimony payments and some recent reverses while playing cards, he was almost tapped out. Unless he could make up the shortfall in his income and fast, his dealings with his friendly neighbourhood bookie were likely to enter leg-breaking territory very quickly.

It's a shame I don't know who popped Jimmy Nayles, he thought. Boris the Shark told me the bosses are offering a hundred grand to anybody who call tell 'em what the guy's name is. A hundred grand. A chunk like that, it could solve all my problems.

It was then, almost as though in answer to his thoughts, he saw a familiar face on the Tri-D. Boosting the volume, he heard the news announcer say it was the picture of a person the Judges wanted for questioning about the murder of Konrad Gruschenko AKA James Nales AKA Jimmy Nayles. The announcer continued to say the fugitive was believed to be dangerous and citizens should keep their distance, but Freddie was no longer listening. He looked at the Tri-D player and saw a picture of Lenny the Mutie floating in the air before him.

Lenny the Mutie? The Judges thought Lenny the Mutie had popped Jimmy Nayles?

Freddie could hardly believe it. All this time he had been bemoaning his financial situation while, unknowingly, he had been sitting on a jackpot. He smiled, feeling a thrill run through his heart as he realised he was looking at the opportunity of a lifetime.

That hundred grand was as good as his already.

SEVENTEEN

INNOCENT BLOOD

For Leonard, the fourth killing he attempted on Daniel's behalf brought with it an unwelcome surprise.

It began easily enough. They took their usual path through the sewers and the underblock maintenance tunnels beneath the city, before making their way into the vents of the air-conditioning system of the housing block where the bad man lived. Emerging into the living room of an apartment on the twentieth floor, Leonard heard the sound of running water coming from the kitchen and followed it to its source. There, he saw a woman standing with her back to him, humming an absent-minded tune as she rinsed dirty dishes in the sink.

We've found him
, Daniel whispered in his mind.
That's one of the bad men. Kill him, Leonard. Kill him now
.

Confused, Leonard hesitated in the doorway as he stared at the woman. There was no one else in the room. It was clear Daniel was talking about the woman at the sink. But how could the boy think she was a man?

Abruptly, the woman turned away from the sink. Seeing Leonard standing behind her, she dropped the dish in her hand to shatter on the floor. She looked at him in terror, her mouth opening in the beginning of a scream.

"Kill him, Leonard!" Daniel shouted the words aloud. "He's one of the men who hurt me! Kill him now!"

Spurred into action, Leonard crossed the distance to the woman in two broad steps and clamped his hands around her throat to stop her from screaming. Still confused, he did not tighten his grip. He hesitated, staring into the women's frightened eyes as Daniel screamed louder.

"What are you waiting for?" Daniel said. "I told you to kill him! Do it now!"

"But she's a woman, Daniel," Leonard said. His pulse pounded wildly in his head, keeping time with the pulse he could feel racing in the woman's throat. "Can't you see that? Something's wrong here. You can't ask me to-"

"Mama!" a child's voice suddenly yelled out behind him.

Turning, Leonard saw two terrified, crying children standing in the kitchen doorway. They were wearing pyjamas, one of them clutching a stuffed teddy bear to her chest as they both stared at him in wide-eyed horror. Seeing the family resemblance between the children and the woman whose throat he held clutched in his hands, Leonard realised they must have been woken from sleep by the noise and had come to the kitchen to find a monster strangling their mother. Leonard felt a sudden sickening chill run through his body. Looking at the children's faces, he saw a reflection of the face he knew he must have worn when the Judges came to take him from his mother. In a burst of insight unlike any he had ever experienced, he realised Daniel had nearly made him into the kind of creature that people assumed he must be when they saw his face. Monster. Woman-killer. Mother-killer. A thing from nightmares.

"Kill them!" Daniel shrieked at the top of his lungs. Curiously, the sound was so shrill and piercing it made Leonard's own throat hurt. "There's three of them here now! Three of the bad men! Kill them! Kill them all now!"

Appalled, Leonard looked from the children to their mother and back again. It was all too much for him to bear. The idea of killing this woman, of leaving her children to lives as bleak and lonely as his own, struck to the very depths of his soul. For the first time, he refused to do what Daniel told him. It was repugnant. Monstrous. He released his grip on the woman's throat. He pushed past the children, stumbling back towards the air-conditioning vent as Daniel screamed vehemently at him. But Leonard was no longer listening. He had to escape the apartment. He needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and the accusing glares of the children. He did the only thing he could.

Horrified at what Daniel had almost made him do, Leonard ran.

And, after that, he kept on running.

The call came in at a little after 21.00.

Anderson and Lang had been in the mess hall at Sector House 45, taking a meal break after each enduring another ten minute session in the sleep machine to help keep their wits sharp as they continued to work their homicide investigation. Over the last several hours, a dozen of the child victims in the meme-encoder recordings had been identified and located. They and their families had been brought into protective custody at the Sector House. Meanwhile, another two dozen victims had either turned out to be dead or were as yet unidentified.

Under the watchful eyes of the Psi-Judges, two psych-trained Med-Judges who specialised in dealing with abuse survivors had been seconded to the Sector House to begin the delicate task of questioning the now-adult victims. It had been a harrowing, disturbing process, but one that Anderson realised was sadly necessary. They were now dealing with two parallel cases: on one hand there was the case of the abuse ring that had operated fifty years ago; on the other, the current murders which seemed somehow tied up with those earlier crimes. The hope was the survivors' testimony would shed light on both cases: allowing the Judges to arrest any of the perps from the fifty-year-old case who were still alive, and bring in the killers of Konrad Gruschenko and the others.

The call from Control caught her unawares. She had nearly spilled her cup of synthi-caf as her radio suddenly blurted out a breathless message.

"Control to Anderson! Attempted homicide at John Steinbeck Block! The description and MO of the perp matches those in the Gruschenko, Kapinski and Mayzell homicides! Anderson, please respond!"

"Anderson here, Control. Did you say 'attempted' homicide? Is there a surviving victim? Over."

"Affirmative to that, Anderson. First Judges on the scene report the perp escaped no more than five minutes - repeat five minutes - before they arrived. Tactical and Tek resources have been dispatched to the scene to track him. You'd better get over there ASAP. Looks like you just caught a break."

They were bad men
, Daniel said. The boy had stopped yelling the words out loud, but his voice was still shrill enough in Leonard's head to make him wince.
And you didn't kill them! You broke your promise!

Ignoring the boy, Leonard crawled hurriedly through the vents of the building's air-conditioning system. From time-to-time, he heard voices shouting and the noises of machines, the sounds reverberating through the vents around him. The Judges were on his trail: he was sure of it. He couldn't let them catch him. If they did, they would not just deport him back to the Cursed Earth. He was a murderer. They would put him in an iso-cube - a metal box without windows - and leave him to die there. Then, he would never see his mother. Leonard had to escape. He had to.