Proxy, page 21
And he could have sworn the roadside warnings about mosquitoes and malaria hadn’t been there the last time he’d been a free man.
Six kilometres outside Basingstoke the car came to a halt. A message flashed up on the dashboard: there’d been an accident. It advised taking the road to Lichfield and finding an alternative route to his destination from there.
Elijah swore under his breath, thinking of the minutes and hours and days ticking away before he had to return to his cell. If he’d been using regular proxy, he’d have already been back in his own skin by now.
He let the car join a long line of hires that looked like toys next to Adebayo’s sleek machine. It was already dark and the weather was only getting worse.
At this rate, he wouldn’t reach Finch’s clinic until nearly midnight. Cursing under his breath, Elijah used the dashboard to call up a list of hotels that would accept crypt-coin and found one with a vacancy just outside Lichfield.
The Abbey Rush Treatment Centre sat at the far end of a winding lane lined by manicured trees and looked more like a conference building than the crumbling Victorian pile Elijah had expected to see when he finally got there the next morning. He peered through the windscreen at the building’s front entrance, sipping takeaway coffee from a foldable cup he’d purchased at the hotel. A gravel driveway wrapped around two sides of the Centre, and he’d parked as far as he could from the entrance while still being able to see people coming in and out.
But still no sign of Finch. Not unless he’d got there first.
It was just after nine in the morning and Elijah had already been sitting watching the Treatment Centre for an hour and a half, fantasizing about pushing his gun into Finch’s face and demanding answers.
Fuck it, he decided. He was bored sitting around and waiting.
He left one of the two guns in a cheap travel case he’d bought at the same time as the coffee, tucking the other into the rear of his trousers before exiting the car.
Inside, he found a reception desk manned by a single nurse, a chip-phone clipped to one of her earlobes. She looked up and smiled at Elijah as he entered.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, sir,” she said, then focused her attention on a computer screen, her fingers moving rapidly across a keyboard.
Looking around, Elijah noticed a glass-covered noticeboard along a corridor. He walked towards it and saw that it displayed photographs of the Centre’s staff, including Finch. Under Finch’s photograph was a label reading DR. ZACHARY FINCH, ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR AND CONSULTANT PSYCHIATRIST, DSc., DM, FRCPsych, FMedSci.
“Sir?”
Thinking he was being addressed, Elijah turned towards the reception desk only to see that the nurse was talking to someone else.
Elijah froze when he saw who she was speaking to. The man’s skin was about the same shade as Elijah’s. Even dressed casually in faded jeans and tennis shoes, he still carried the indefinable aura of an off-duty cop.
The stranger glanced towards Elijah without interest, then returned his attention to the nurse. Realizing he’d been gawping at this new arrival, Elijah focused intently on the noticeboard.
He swallowed, his throat instantly dry. Now he remembered where he’d seen the man before: his name was Ray Thomas, part of the Met’s special proxy division. He’d been involved in the investigation into Rob’s murder and had even given evidence at Elijah’s trial.
But why hadn’t Thomas recognized him standing there? Why hadn’t—?
Idiot. Elijah forced himself to breathe out, and the pounding of his heart lessened slightly.
Of course Thomas hadn’t recognized him: the ex-cop had seen Gerard Adebayo, not Elijah Waits. He wouldn’t know Adebayo from a month of Sundays.
“It’s very important that I speak to Doctor Finch at the soonest possible opportunity,” Elijah heard Thomas say to the nurse. He sounded agitated. “I was given to understand he’d be back from his conference by now.”
“I’m afraid his flight was delayed,” the nurse replied. “We’re not expecting him to come in to work until tomorrow morning. Can you tell me what it’s about, and I’ll take a message?”
Finch? Elijah felt his eyes widen.
What the hell did Ray Thomas want with Finch?
Sensing that the nurse had, for the moment, forgotten about him, Elijah slipped across the corridor to an open-plan waiting area furnished with couches and chairs, from where he could listen more easily while remaining unseen.
“It’s regarding a man named Dominic Fiori,” Thomas explained to the nurse. “He was one of Doctor Finch’s patients until very recently.”
“I’m sorry,” the nurse interrupted him, sounding startled. “What was that last name again?”
“Fiori,” Thomas repeated. “Dominic Fiori. And I’d like to speak with him urgently as well about another man named Isaac Sizemore. And tell him if he doesn’t talk to me, I’ll talk to the police.”
The young nurse sounded confused. “The police…?”
“Just make sure he gets the message the moment his flight lands,” Thomas insisted. “It’s important. He’ll want to hear it.”
“Could I ask you to take a seat for now?” Elijah heard the nurse say. “I’ll check in case he’s landed already.”
“I’ll wait,” said Thomas. “But if you get hold of him, make it clear I need to speak to him about this in person.”
Elijah frowned as he continued to listen in to their conversation. Who the hell were Dominic Fiori and Isaac Sizemore? And what did they have to do with Finch?
Thomas stepped towards the waiting area and Elijah fought down a rush of unnecessary panic.
He doesn’t know who you really are, he reminded himself, and went to stare out a window while Thomas took a seat close by.
Twenty minutes passed before the nurse asked Thomas to return to the reception area. Thomas got up and Elijah moved back over to where he could listen in once more.
“How long?” he heard Thomas exclaim.
“He’s landed, but he can’t make it in to work before very late tonight,” the nurse explained, sounding apologetic. “Perhaps you could give me your name and—?”
“Tell him I’ll meet him here, at his clinic, tonight,” said Thomas, sounding angry, his words a harsh bark. “I don’t care how long it takes him to get here, or how much hassle it is. Did you mention I’ll talk to the police if he doesn’t?”
“I did, yes,” said the nurse, her voice sounding considerably more strained than it had a moment before.
A few seconds passed and Elijah heard the Centre’s front door chime as it swung open. He let out a rush of air that came from deep within his lungs.
“Sir?” said the same nurse, coming to find him a moment later. She looked pale, as if she’d had a near-encounter with death. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, but there was a…a small emergency. How can I help you?”
“Actually, it’s nothing,” said Elijah, and he hurried past her and towards the exit.
Stepping outside, Elijah saw Thomas climb into a hire car parked on the gravel driveway next to a line of half a dozen other vehicles. Elijah headed back to Adebayo’s Audi, trying to look purposeful and taking care not to look Thomas’s way.
Only once he reached his skin’s Audi did he glance back and see Thomas had slunk down low in the seat of his car, his gaze fixed on the front entrance of the Abbey Rush.
Elijah realized with a shock he wasn’t the only one staking out the Centre. Which meant Elijah had no choice but to sit in Adebayo’s car and watch both Thomas and the Centre.
Fortunately, Elijah had parked on a part of the driveway outside of Thomas’s direct field of vision. Elijah kept himself low in his own seat in case Thomas glanced his way.
The hours passed with infinite slowness. Elijah fell briefly asleep and came to with a snort. Thomas was still right where he had been, watching people and cars come and go.
From the way Thomas’s jaws moved, Elijah could see he was eating something. His own stomach growled in response.
He ignored his hunger, only cracking open the door of his car once so he could take a pee on the gravel when he was sure no one would see.
Eventually the sky grew darker, and he watched as most of the staff got in their cars and drove away. Lights within the clinic dimmed.
Just after nightfall, headlights appeared along the lane, and a car that put even Adebayo’s to shame pulled up outside the Abbey Rush Treatment Centre.
Finch got out of the car and looked furtively around. His tie was askew and his suit looked rumpled. His gaze darted here and there precisely as if he were expecting someone to leap out at him, his cheeks and forehead pale and shiny and his mouth set in an attitude of dread. He dashed up to the Centre’s entrance and touched a keypad.
Elijah watched Thomas emerge from his car, hurrying towards the entrance before the door could swing shut behind Finch.
Elijah cracked open the door of his own car and stood, wanting to see what happened next.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
RAY
Ray grabbed Finch by the elbow, spinning him around until they faced each other outside the entrance of the Abbey Rush Centre. Finch reacted with a look of shocked outrage and terror.
“I’m the one who wanted you here,” said Ray, pushing Finch further inside the lobby and letting the door swing shut behind them both. “You and me are going to have a little chat about Isaac Sizemore.”
Finch’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He cast a nervous glance towards the reception desk, where a nurse on night duty regarded them both with clear alarm.
“This isn’t the time or place,” Finch said tautly. “How dare you accost me—!”
“We can talk right here,” said Ray, “or in your office. But I’m guessing you don’t want any of the staff to hear what I have to say.”
“That…that won’t be necessary,” said Finch, his face shiny with sweat. “We’ll speak in my office. Alice? Please see that I’m not disturbed.”
The nurse nodded, her expression wary and confused.
Finch nodded to Ray, who followed him down a corridor to an office. Once they were inside, Finch retreated behind a desk, standing there rigidly and staring back at Ray as he closed the door behind him.
Ray wasn’t in the mood to waste words. “How long did you have Isaac Sizemore locked up in here?” he demanded. “And why keep him in here under an assumed name?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Finch stammered.
“Don’t waste my fucking time,” Ray shouted. “I know both you and Sizemore used to work for Telop industries, and Sizemore was part of the mob that kidnapped Stacy Cotter straight out of her hospital bed.”
Finch’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a steadying breath. “I know nothing about any of that,” he said, his voice shaking so hard a vigilant Boy Scout could have recognized he was lying.
“Like you don’t know about proxy having come out of a Telop research lab, right?”
Finch sank into the seat behind the desk, looking like he might faint. “I’m not saying one more word until you tell me who you are and what you want,” he rasped.
“I’m a private investigator,” said Ray, stepping up close to the desk and fixing Finch with a hard stare. “Which is all you need to know. Right now the police aren’t involved, but it’d take only a word from me to bring them here. I hate to think how people would react if they learned one of the biggest technology companies in the world was so irresponsible that it’d make proxy available to literally anyone with the means to print it.” He paused for a beat. “Or the fact that one of Raphael Markov’s employees used it to have sex with his boss’s wife without her knowledge.”
To Ray’s surprise, a little fight came into Finch’s voice. “If you knew anything about Raphael Markov,” he said, “you’d never dare talk to me like this. What do you want—is it money? I can pay you.” With one shaking hand, Finch tugged back one sleeve of his suit to reveal an expensive gold-plated bracelet. “I can do it right now in non-traceable crypt-coin—”
Ray stepped forward, putting his hands on Finch’s desk and leaning forward until he was almost nose to nose with Finch.
Finch recoiled, falling back into a chair. His hands gripped the chair’s armrests like a drowning man clutching at driftwood.
“Tell Raphael that I want to speak to him, in person, and soon,” Ray growled. Then he took a pen and a sheet of notepaper from Finch’s desk and scribbled down a series of numbers and digits.
“What is this?” Finch asked, looking down at the sheet when Ray scooted it over to him.
“An encrypted address,” said Ray. “Markov can contact me via it. Make sure he gets it. And if I don’t hear back from either of you in the next forty-eight hours, you can tell your side of the story to the Metropolitan Police instead.” Ray made a show of thinking for a moment. “Or the press. Your choice.”
Without another word, Ray spun on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him.
Elijah came close to following Finch and Thomas inside the Centre a half dozen times. Each time he took a step towards the front entrance, and each time he retreated. In the end he opted for standing next to his skin’s Audi and staring fixedly towards the Centre’s entrance.
Barely ten minutes after Ray Thomas had pushed Finch inside, the ex-cop appeared, pushing his way out into the night air.
Elijah slid back inside the Audi, closing the door carefully so as not to draw attention. Thomas, oblivious to Elijah’s presence, got back in his own vehicle.
Instead of driving away, Thomas resumed watching the front entrance of the Centre even as Elijah, in turn, continued to watch him.
Goddammit. Elijah punched the Audi’s dashboard and wished hellfire upon Thomas. He was tired of waiting!
Then Finch came hurrying out of the Centre, looking even more harried than before.
Clearly, Thomas had put the frighteners on the man. As Elijah watched, Finch got back in his own car and drove away at speed, his headlights flickering past the trees that lined the driveway.
The headlights of Thomas’s car flipped on immediately, and Elijah watched as he set off in pursuit of Finch.
At last. His muscles thrumming with nervous tension, Elijah spoke a command. In response, a steering wheel unfolded from a hidden groove within the dashboard, and pedals pushed up against the soles of his feet.
Self-driving vehicles weren’t designed to follow other cars except in response to traffic conditions. And that meant he’d need manual control of the Audi if he was going to tail both Finch and Thomas.
He gripped the steering wheel with renewed energy and started the engine.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
RAPHAEL
“Sir?” asked Carlson, Raphael’s PA. “It’s a call from Doctor Finch. He says it’s urgent.”
Raphael looked up from the papers he’d been studying at his desk to see his PA hovering at the entrance to his office. His mind had been elsewhere, thinking about acquisitions he’d been looking to make—mostly tech companies specialising in life extension, a field in which Telop had recently made some major investments.
“Tell him I’m busy,” said Raphael, picking up a manila folder and opening it. He crossed his legs and tried to focus once more on his work.
“He’s quite insistent, sir. But if you like I could—?”
For God’s sake. Raphael dropped the folder back down with a thump.
First Amy, now Finch; he was regretting ever having taken the Doctor into his confidence.
“Fine,” he said. “Put him through.”
Carlson nodded. “…and if Miss Cotter should call again?”
“The only time I want to speak to my ex-wife,” said Raphael, fixing the PA with a stare, “is when I choose to. Is that understood? I don’t want to hear one more word about, or from, her.”
“Sir.”
Carlson exited the room, closing the door after him, and Raphael breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. The only reason he hadn’t taken out a restraining order against the woman was his fear of attracting yet more media attention. Clearly, nothing he could say or do would satisfy her, now that her daughter was officially missing.
Light shimmered within the smooth glass of Raphael’s desk, forming into images and text. Finch’s name appeared next to a phone icon.
“Accept call,” said Raphael.
“Raphael?” Finch’s voice came through without a picture, breathy and ragged.
Something in Finch’s tone sent a prickle of concern down Raphael’s spine and he sat up straighter.
“Please don’t address me by my first name,” Raphael snapped. “You’re my employee, not my fucking golf partner.”
“I’m sorry, sir. There was a man just here,” said Finch. “At the Abbey Rush Centre. I don’t know what he wanted, but he seemed to know everything about…about us.”
Finch sounded on the verge of a breakdown. “What do you mean, ‘everything’?”
“About Isaac and proxy,” Finch babbled. “That Isaac took Stacy out of the hospital. That…!”
Finch’s voice choked off. Jesus, thought Raphael, was the idiot crying?
“Where are you just now?” Raphael demanded, his unease growing. “Are you still at Abbey Rush?”
“No,” Finch replied. “I’m just driving around. I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice almost became a wail. “He talked about the police!”
“Did you at least get the man’s name?”
“He said he was a private investigator. He wouldn’t tell me his name. The only thing he gave me was an encrypted address he said to give to you so you could contact him. And…and he said he wanted to meet you in person. Within forty-eight hours, or he’ll go to the police.”
