Darren Shan - Procession of the dead

"I thought he was lying-maybe there was something terrible in my past, like I'd killed somebody and could never be told. Something crazy like that. But the more I pushed and the more he had to defend himself, the more confused he became, and I saw he really didn't know anything about my years abroad.

"After that I went looking through city files. I figured there had to be something somewhere. I bounced between libraries, newspapers and bureaucratic departments. Not an iota. No Ama Situwa or Ama Reed. Cafran was there, and his wife, Elizabeth Trevor. Trevor, not Situwa. I found copies of their divorce papers but no mention of a child. I tried tracing Elizabeth Trevor's life after she left the city but I got nowhere.

"Do you realize how unsettling it is to find out you don't exist? That as far as official records are concerned, you're a nonentity?" Her lips twisted into a snarled smile. "Actually, I think you might. And if you don't yet, you soon will."

As I listened, I tested my own memories, forcing my mind down the cavern it normally shied away from. I started with the day I'd arrived here and worked back. Only there was no place to work back to. Like she'd said, there simply wasn't anything there.

"I hired a detective to search further," she continued, "but he couldn't do any more than I'd already done. He said either the records had been tampered with or else I was an illegal, adopted orphan. He'd come across it before-a couple who could neither have children naturally, nor adopt, sometimes bought a child on the black market. That would explain why I didn't exist in the files."

"Sounds reasonable," I agreed.

"Very. It made perfect sense, and might even be the truth, except it still doesn't explain the gaps in my memory."

"Maybe you come from a forgetful family." I smiled but she didn't smile back. "Sorry. Go on. What did you do next?"

Next she went to her doctor, who couldn't find anything amiss. At her insistence he'd recommended a specialist who dealt with amnesiacs, but that led nowhere either. Several pricey sessions later, no further informed than she'd been at the beginning, Ama decided to let the matter drop. After all, she had a life in the present to get on with. If the past clicked into place one day, great. If it didn't, she'd just have to live with that.

"And then I met The Cardinal." Her words caught in her throat. She knelt to skim a few more pebbles. I moved up behind her and ran my fingers through her hair. Cupped her face in my hands, bent and kissed her.

"Go on," I said softly. "You've taken it this far. Don't stop now."

"He dropped by the restaurant one evening," she said. "His visits are rare. This was his first since I'd come to the city. He was courteous and charming, the exact opposite of what I thought he'd be. I found myself drawn to him. He flirted a little with me. I began to think he'd look great with a woman like me by his side. I was starting to pick colors for our wedding. You know the way foolish dreams go.

"Then, as he was leaving, he pulled me aside. My heart skipped. I thought he was going to invite me around to his place for a private drink. But he only said one thing to me. 'How's life with your… father? ' In exactly that tone, with the pause and stress on the father. He grinned as he said it. I knew immediately that Cafran and the city officials might know nothing about my past, but The Cardinal did.

"So I went after him."

She'd gone to Party Central to look it over. She wasn't sure what she planned to do or what she was hoping to find. She just knew she had to do something, take control of the situation and not sit at home feeling sorry for herself. The front of Party Central was a dead end. Nobody could get near the place without attracting attention. So she went around to the back. Found a large fence, regularly patrolled but not as carefully guarded as the front. The Troops back here were spread thinly. And although the fence was electrified, there was a small gate toward the end of the building which wasn't, which the Troops used to get in and out.

She waited until things were quiet, crept up and tried the lock. It was firm, but she discovered a gap between the top of the gate and the fence, one she could just about squeeze through if she sucked in tight. She didn't go in that first night, but came back a few times to observe the Troops. When she'd determined their routines, she walked up to the gate one dark night, brazen as anything, and slipped in.

The area between the fence and the building was used for parking and it was easy to pass undetected. She came to the rear wall of Party Central and walked along, examining the fortifications for weak spots. She found none. Though she searched for hours and checked every possible point of access, there was no way in. On her way out, as dawn approached, she was discovered. She was squeezing through the gap at the top of the gate when a voice from the darkness called to her. "Miss Situwa. We have been observing you."

Her stomach turned to slush. She wanted to run but she couldn't move. A figure appeared out of the darkness and a hand was extended toward her. Not having any other option, she took hold and slipped back into the compound.

The man was dressed in the uniform of the Troops, but was smiling pleasantly and his gun remained hidden. "Would you follow me, please, Miss Situwa?" he asked, and led her back to the building, to a spot near the middle, where he stopped and stepped back. He pointed upward. Ama saw another person above them, opening a window. The Troop-if that's what he was-said, "This window will be left open every night from now on. Use it as you wish. We are no friends of The Cardinal but we have his trust. We cannot protect you if you are caught, but we have taken steps which should make evasion easier. Come and go as you please. Good night, Miss Situwa."

And he'd returned to his business. When she looked up again, the window had been closed and no one was visible. Dazed and feeling sick, she went home.

"Have you seen him since?" I asked.

"No."

"Can you describe him?"

"Not really. All I noticed was the uniform. Every Troop looks the same in one of those."

"What about the one above?" I asked.

"I don't know," Ama said. "I didn't get a close look. But…" She frowned. "It might have been the glare of the sun on the glass, but it looked to me like he was blind." She laughed shortly. "Crazy, huh?"

I didn't think it was crazy at all. I considered telling her about the other blank-eyed men I'd seen, but decided against it. I wanted to think about this a bit more before I shared my thoughts with her.

Ama continued with her story. She hadn't taken the stranger at his word, but had come back and studied the site over the next few nights, trying to spot what she was sure must be a trap. Eventually, left with no other option, she scaled the wall-a simple rope with a hook on the end did the trick-and was in.

She'd expected sirens to blare, lights to blaze, Troops to crash down and haul her off. It didn't happen. Five minutes passed. Ten. Nobody came, no alarms sounded, there was no sign that she had been detected. Eventually she plucked up the nerve to try the stairs. She went slowly, sure she'd spring a trap every time she took a step. But one flight passed without incident. Another. And soon she was past the fifteenth floor, with all the secret files of Party Central at her disposal.

The upper floors of the building were deserted. The occasional secretary would wander through to take out a file or put one back. And Troops patrolled the floors several times a night on their regular rounds. But they always used the elevators and, if you were careful, you could hear them coming and hide before they were close enough to pose any danger. There was ample hiding space. The files were arranged in huge stacks of paper, towers reaching up to the ceiling in some places. All she had to do was squeeze between two of the piles to become invisible.