Authors: Garrett Addison
All readers.
All dead.
All suicides.
All guilty.
Too late for Ikel.
Too late for you?
Be sure you understand the greater good.
Devlin considered phoning Ikel, but given that it was
still only early evening he decided to visit him instead. He knew that
personal contact was perhaps the only thing that would prevent a panic setting
in completely. He burst through his door and bounded down the corridor to Ikel’s
room.
Ikel was dozing fully clothed on his bed when he was
aroused by manic banging on his door. He opened the door and stood back as
Devlin rushed in and frantically started looking for his phone. “What’s the
problem?”
“Where’s your phone?” Devlin asked desperately.
“Beside the TV,” Ikel replied calmly, repeating his
question, “What’s the go?”
“I got more messages. Did you get them too?” He
retrieved the phone and straight away looked to access his received messages.
“I didn’t get any,” said Ikel, understanding Devlin’s
frenzy. “If you’re still spooked by messages, why don’t you turn your ‘ken
phone off?”
“Has your phone been on the whole time?”
“Yep. I ignored the messages you’re so spooked about for
a while, and now I generally don’t get any that aren’t actually for me. Well,
not very often anyway.” Ikel said, heading for his bar-fridge. “Can I get you
something?”
“And you haven’t deleted any?”
“No. Not tonight anyway,” Ikel removed the cap from a
bottle of beer and drank a long mouthful.
“Why don’t you get those messages about Casey and co?”
“Remember when you were little and scared of the bogey-man
and your Dad would tell you to ignore him and he’d go away?” Ikel offered.
Devlin could see where this was going. “I haven’t even
had a chance to ignore them yet. Tonight I got twice as many as last night.
You were mentioned in one of them and …”
“Let me finish. I tried ignoring them, but they kept coming.
Like you, I didn’t know who was sending them until Conrad said something. I
had a bit of a chat to him about it, and amazingly the volume of messages I
received dropped off. Admittedly, not straight away, but I guess he figured he
was wasting his time. I would have preferred for them to stop completely, but
that’s OK.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Not much. But he got the picture just the same. He
denied sending them of course. After last night, I figured he was just giving
you a quick burst and if they continued I’d just have another chat with him.”
Devlin thought more about the message content. The fact
that Ikel wasn’t interested in them had done wonders to reduce his concern, but
not entirely.
“What exactly did the message say?” Ikel asked, displaying
only a modicum of interest.
“That it was too late for you, and some crap about a
greater
good
.” He offered his phone in case he wanted to see for himself, but Ikel
shook his head, shunning the offer. “So what’s
that
all about?”
Ikel sighed and stood up. “I might go and have another
chat
with Conrad.”
“Thanks. But perhaps it’s my turn to speak with him.”
Chapter - 37.
Conrad Tran was alone in his home office when his phone
rang. Devlin had been a little abrupt, but he was insistent on a meeting, and
that suited Conrad perfectly. He was desperate to speak with Devlin, and now
was as good as any other time. He knew he was onto something, and without a
personal life, it didn’t really matter what time of the day they met. He
tended to work a cyclic twenty hour day for weeks on end. This meant that
periodically he slept the remaining four hours during daylight, or during the
night, or whenever he tired to the point of exhaustion, without any regard for
the normal hours kept by most of the population.
Conrad rehearsed his big sell in anticipation of one more
chance to impress Devlin. He knew the best time to approach Glen’s people was
just after they’d joined. He knew that there had to be a purpose to Glen’s
recruitment strategy, but he was still to work it out. There was no chance to
intercept his potential recruits before they’d joined. However, just after
they joined, they were still sceptical enough to challenge what they thought
about anything, particularly what they thought about LastGasp’ and Glen. But,
he’d blown it with Devlin. His one good opportunity was looking promising
until Devlin got suspicious, upped and left. Ikel Donovan had been more
physical in avoiding a meeting, but he’d hurt Conrad’s pride more than
inflicting any lasting physical injury. Devlin, on the other hand, had just
avoided him. There was hope with this one.
I can’t blow this
, Conrad thought as he tried his
best to form his thoughts into something logical. He knew he was thinking
erratically, invariably on par with his racing heart, the result of fatigue,
excitement and way too much caffeine. To him, the result of his research was
clear, irrefutable really, but so far he’d not managed to convince anyone to
understand his theory and ultimately share his concerns. For whatever reason,
they’d either been unwilling or unable to understand. It was true that it was
just a theory, but with a little insider help he’d be able to convert theory to
proof.
It wouldn’t take Devlin long to arrive, particularly given
the urgency in his tone, and until then he could do little more than tidy some
of the filth that tended to accumulate in his home office. Long work days did
not lend themselves to fastidious attention to housework, and had it not been
for a weekly visit from his mother, he surely would have been naked for a lack
of clothes and fighting off rats for sure. His mother had come from Vietnam
after the war and assimilation into a new country had done nothing to dampen
her cultural attachment to what was most definitely woman’s work, and a
mother’s lot. But his mother was not due for a few days, and while he still
had enough food and clothes, it was going to take a little while to make the
place hospitable for guests. Worst case, Devlin would stay for a moment say
his piece and leave soon after, without even coming inside. Best case, he’d
listen and want to come inside to hear more. Conrad reasoned that there was no
avoiding the need to tidy at least some of his home; the lounge for starters,
on his own, for the first time in several years.
* * *
It would have been faster to catch a taxi, but Devlin
figured that a walk would do him good. The streets weren’t the best, but they
were lit adequately and nowhere near as bad as those behind LastGasp’. In any
case, he was feeling brave and hyped from Ikel’s pep-talk primer before he
left. If the truth be known, he needed the time to prepare what he needed to
say and clarify what he needed to know. It didn’t take him long to travel the
ten or so blocks to Conrad’s office as described on his business card. By the
time he arrived, he knew what he needed to say.
“I was hoping you’d call,” Conrad began as soon as he
opened his door. “I’ve needed to speak to you.”
“Me likewise. But first I want to talk about the
messages,” Devlin prepared himself for a confrontation.
Conrad smiled. “You know, Ikel accused me of sending the
messages too. The guy even punched me when I told him I didn’t send them. But
it wasn’t me.”
“But you know about them?”
“You work there, you get the messages. Others have told
me about them.”
“And they’re not from you?”
“Nope. And to answer your next question, no, I don’t know
who they’re from.”
“You know that Ikel has received fewer messages since he
spoke
with you. With that in mind, wouldn’t you assume that you’d found the message
sender?”
“Maybe. But why the interest this late at night?”
Devlin considered leaving it at that. After such a cold
denial, it seemed fruitless to continue on the matter. Conrad’s face expressed
honesty, and Devlin was certain that he was telling the truth. However, he was
also mindful that Conrad had been surprisingly zealous in his efforts to make
contact that day. “So what do you want to talk about?”
“David’s dead,” Devlin began, pausing for effect and to
gauge Conrad’s reaction. It was apparent that this was news to Conrad, evident
in the way his shoulders sunk and his natural, perpetual smile dissipated into
blankness.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I liked David. He was a nice guy.”
Conrad rubbed his face with his hands. “When? How?”
“Today. Lori and I found him in his room. Suicide.”
Conrad focussed. “And David was mentioned a message?”
“One of them. I received eleven messages tonight, and one
of them mentioned David. Many of the other messages were ones I’d received
before, that Casey and others were dead, and a series of new ones telling me
that all the other readers were guilty and all suicided.”
A spark returned to Conrad’s face, and he smiled. “Well
that’s not true.” He leapt from his seat on an old armchair, and headed for a
cluttered computer desk behind him. “Come and look at this.” He took his seat
at his keyboard and began to click and type frenetically as he spoke. “I’ve had
an interest in LastGasp’ for some time,” he began.
“Professional or recreational interest?”
Conrad stopped typing before answering. “I know what
you’re asking. Technically, it’s ‘
recreational’
in that I have no
formal mandate to exploit any of my professional expertise or contacts in any
related investigation. But it came up professionally enough.”
“How so?”
“Well. I was doing forensic technology assessments for
the police when I noticed a pattern.” Conrad looked at Devlin, as if expecting
to see puzzlement and his expectation was realised. “Forensic technology
assessments are like a fishing expedition on the internet for anything about
someone who’s died. Throw out a big net and see what gets caught. OK so
far?” He looked for a nod from Devlin before continuing. “Anyway. I noticed
technical interaction with LastGasp’ and did a little homework.”
“Given what LastGasp’ does, I wouldn’t have thought that
would surprise anyone. It seems reasonable an organisation that sends emails
after someone dies would get implicated somewhere.”
Conrad sighed. “That’s what the police said. That it was
‘
reasonable interaction
’, to use the official term. Without wanting to
abuse my fishing analogy, we caught a common but inedible fish. So I moved on,
but the same pattern came up, over and over.
“I’m allowed a little latitude with my investigations,
primarily because there’s nothing definitive in what I
should
be looking
for, and so I kept at it. I sunk a lot of time into it, but then I had to move
on.”
“So if you came up with nothing, why are we having this
conversation?”
“That’s not what I said. I moved on because I was told to
move on. But I didn’t come up with nothing.” Conrad looked for roused
interest in Devlin. “Look at this and tell me what you see.” He slid to his
left slightly to allow Devlin a better view of the screen.
“I see a web,” Devlin said, describing what he saw; a
matrix of lines and coloured nodes randomly interconnected such that each node
was joined to a variable number of adjacent and non-adjacent, disconnected nodes.
“What am I looking at?”
“You got it in one. It’s a contact matrix. The nodes
represent people, and the lines represent contact between these people. It
shows how potentially each of these people are known to each other, within a
few degrees of separation anyway.”
Devlin accepted what he was being told, but was cautious
to give any indication as such, verbal or otherwise. “And?”
“OK. The red dot in the middle represents Glen.” He used
the mouse to point to the only node in the matrix coloured red. “The node
colour represents an indication of the degrees of separation from the red
node. You are one of the blue nodes, which one is not important at this point
in your education.” Once again Conrad looked for cues of understanding before
continuing. “What does this tell you?”
“That Glen is known to me and a lot of others?”
“Well, technically the matrix represents
contact
,
so it doesn’t actually show that these people
know
Glen, but you’re on
the right track.”
“OK, so it shows that Glen is ‘
influential’
?”
“Perfect! He’s an
influential
guy.”
“And? I wouldn’t have thought that was too surprising
given the volume of semi-solicited email LastGasp’ sends.”
“Actually emails don’t count. In this context, the
definition of contact is human to human interaction. So face to face is
obviously in, as are phone calls. But emails are out, rightly or wrongly.”
“But it still shows that Glen is influential. Right?”
“Yes. But look at this?” Conrad typed on his keyboard
some more and clicked his mouse, and the interface changed slightly, such that
a number of the coloured nodes started to flash. “Remember what I said about
the blue nodes? Well I know you aren’t one of the
flashing
blue ones.
Wanna’ know how I know?”
Devlin only shrugged, though he no longer feigned
disinterest. He looked at Conrad and waited for the answer.
“Because the flashing nodes are all dead.”
“Bullshit.”
“What part of this do you think is bullshit? The contact,
or the fact that a surprising number of them are dead?”
“Both,” said Devlin, interested but not convinced. “It’s
not just blue nodes that are flashing. And people die every day!”