'Yes, trying to find you. Then everyone got thrown out.' He smiled. 'You don't remember me, do you?'
'No, I don't.' Which was a lie. There was something familiar about the man's face. But it wasn't like seeing the ghost back in the bar – this time there was no nausea, no sense of impending dread; none of the symptoms that usually preceded a seizure. Whoever he was, he was no apparition.
'The Maze, y'know? Though it's been a long time.'
'I'm afraid I don't recall.'
The other man laughed. 'Well, we never actually spoke before. My name's Erik Whitsett.'
'But you were-'
'In a coma, yes. Well, I recovered about a year after they brought me out of the Maze. When you didn't appear outside in the street, I figured you must have headed out the back somewhere, so here I am.'
Kendrick shook his head. 'Mr Whitsett, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. It's just that-'
'It's been such a long time. Yeah, I know. Look, I haven't been spying on you or anything. It's just that I really need to talk to you.'
The sound of sirens drifted through the night air, a few streets distant and coming closer.
'I think we should take a walk first, Erik.'
They crossed the street and kept moving, Kendrick leading the way, Erik hurrying beside him. Kendrick cut diagonally across Parliament Square and stopped Whitsett with a palm against his chest once they were on the other side.
'Erik, I don't know why you're here or what you want from me, but you should know I'm not happy at being discovered.' He kept his voice low as people wandered past them on all sides, slipping in and out of brightly coloured 3D air projections that reached out from shop windows to dance and shimmer for their attention. The air was filled with the gentle cacophony of sales jingles just barely on the edge of perception.
Whitsett shook his head. 'I'm not here to blackmail you. I'm just hoping I can help you. Buddy sent me, and I don't think you've forgotten him.'
'All right, you've got my attention. What do you want?'
'Have you heard about the deaths? All the deaths of Labrats?'
Kendrick opened his mouth, then closed it. There had been some news reports about the deaths of one or two who had testified many years before against the Wilber Regime, particularly against Anton Sieracki, although that trial had been posthumous.
'I heard something about Adams and Gallagher, that they were murdered. Nobody knows who by, right?'
'That's true, but there are others you might not have heard about: Perez, Sachs, Hauptmann, Stillwell – all dead.'
Kendrick studied Whitsett as he spoke. Small, rotund, with a full beard. He'd been little more than an inanimate shape in Kendrick's memories, the next best thing to dead himself. But here he was, alive and well, which gave Kendrick a sense of hope. If Whitsett could get better, then perhaps so could any of them.
'I remember them,' said Kendrick slowly, 'but I hadn't heard from any of them in years. Are you saying that somebody's killed them?'
'That's exactly what I'm saying. But they're not targeting all Labrats, just those from the same experimental programme you and I were placed in. Something's definitely happening.'
'You're saying somebody planted that bomb in order to kill me?'
'I can't see any other explanation, can you? So if you've been trying to lead an incognito life, maybe somebody's noticed.'
'That doesn't explain how you knew where to find me, Erik.'
'You're still using the same contact details from the last time you saw Buddy, yeah?'
'So he told you where to find me.' Whitsett nodded. 'But you should know that I haven't seen Buddy for a few years. We don't really keep in touch that much any more.'
The sirens sounded very close now. The two men weren't yet far enough from the Saint. By some unspoken agreement, they began walking again, side by side.
They cut down another alley and crossed over a wide street beyond, always moving in the general direction of the city centre. Kendrick had noted how Whitsett kept the collar of his jacket pulled up high, a scarf wrapped tightly about his neck. It was a colder night than usual, but Kendrick suspected that Whitsett had other reasons for covering himself up so carefully.
'You and Buddy were both in Ward Seventeen, the same time as me. I barely remember any of it, so I guess that makes me one of the lucky ones.'
'The lucky ones were the ones that weren't there at all. If you or Buddy think you know who would want to plant a bomb, it would be nice if you could tell me just who.'
'It's- Ah, shit.' Lights flashed at the far end of the street and they watched as an unmanned police car cruised slowly past, its low upper surface bristling with lenses and sensors. They kept to the shadows and moved on, quickly turning a corner and getting out of sight of the robot vehicle.
'What's more important right now,' Whitsett continued, 'is knowing you're not the only one who's been seeing strange things.'
'How do you-?' Whitsett stopped in a darkened doorway and unwrapped his scarf. Kendrick saw now the dozens of dark ridges reaching up from under the man's shirt, like shadowy branches converging towards the base of his skull. His chin and cheeks looked swollen, distorted.
How long Whitsett still had to live Kendrick couldn't guess, but by the looks of things probably less than a year.
'Look, I'm sorry for what's happened to you,' Kendrick said, the words coming not at all easily. 'My augmentations have turned rogue too. I sympathize.'
Whitsett laughed with a low, throaty chuckle that shook his small frame. 'I've made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry about that. I've had a long time to come to terms with what happened to me – as we all have. What comes, comes. Look, maybe this isn't the best place, so is there anywhere else we can buy ourselves a drink? There's a lot we need to talk about.'
'Maybe you can answer my question first. If you know – have any idea – who planted that bomb, then you need to tell me.'
Whitsett glanced around and shook his head. 'All right. It's almost certainly Los Muertos, but don't take that as a definite.'
Kendrick laughed. 'This far from the Maze? Why on Earth would they want-?'
'Look, perhaps this isn't the best time and place to be discussing such things. Let's say we arrange to meet some other time – and soon. How about tomorrow?'
'Maybe.'
'Just maybe?'
'I don't understand why Buddy couldn't come and speak to me in person.'
Whitsett sighed, and produced his wand. 'Look, before anything else I'd like to make sure we can get in touch, before any more of those cop cars come rolling by.'
Kendrick hesitated, then shrugged and produced his own wand. They keyed the devices, allowing them to link to each other and share communication details.
Whitsett was smiling, but his expression had become more guarded. He buttoned his coat back up, after carefully wrapping the scarf tightly around his neck. 'I'm glad it's cold, or this would be a lot more difficult to hide. In answer to your question, Buddy's got a lot on his mind, arranging…' He hesitated. 'Things. I think it's more a case of… he's surprised he hasn't heard from you.'
Whitsett paused for a moment, then continued. 'What did you see – in your visions?'
Kendrick paused, forming his reply 'I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to talk about that yet. I saw something. What does it matter?'
