She looked at her watch. It was late, but the photography department at the Washington Post worked round the clock.
Walking towards the elevator, her heart began to beat a little faster and a rush of excitement swept over her. Fiona was willing to bet her last month's pay that the camera and film held the key to why Mat had died.
--------------------
Day Nineteen
It was almost 9.45 a.m., and Kerrin had been driving for over half an hour. Perhaps he was taking his new security precautions a little too far, but he wanted to be sure that no one would be able to trace him from any of the calls he made.
Most of the calls he had been making recently had been monitored. How they did it, he didn’t know, but whatever precautions he had taken in the past were simply not enough.
It was time to get smart.
In future, if he needed to talk to someone, he would drive somewhere far away from the motel before making the call. That way, if they did manage to track any of his calls back to the pay phone he used, they wouldn't be able to find them staying within fifty miles of where he had made it from.
He arrived at JKF airport, parked in the short term parking-lot, and walked around the airport, trying to find a phone somewhere quiet. After ten minutes he settled on a pay-phone in one of the shopping areas, just outside a bookshop.
"Ralf? Hi, is that you? It's Kerrin here…sorry, I'm at the airport. It's a bit noisy."
"Hey Kerrin, wow, long time no speak? How are you man?" the enthusiastic young computer hacker replied. "Still working for The Post?"
"Sure thing. Listen, have you got a minute?"
Kerrin had first met Ralf Weisman while doing a story for The Post on computer hacking and network security two years before. Ralf was only nineteen at the time, but was perhaps one of the best computer wizards that Kerrin had ever met. Kerrin had tracked him down on the web via a chat-group for hackers, and although Kerrin discovered that the young university student was guilty of hacking into some very large commercial websites and wreaking havoc on their web pages, he admired his skills. Ralf saw himself as an 'urban knight, defending the people and the innocent citizens of the metropolis', and only ever hacked websites of large companies that were known environmental polluters. Kerrin sympathised with his views, and over the coming months had got to know Ralf quite well. He liked the guy, and he knew the feeling was mutual. Since then he had called him several times, and had paid to use his computer skills to 'obtain' the occasional snippet of information while researching articles for the Washington Post. Basically, Kerrin paid Ralf to hack into computer systems on his behalf and retrieve information. Slightly illegal, but very useful.
"Yeah, just studying for the college exams…nothing exciting…what can I do for you? Want another job done?"
"You could say that. For $100 could you hack into the data-systems at Washington airport, and try and get some flight details for me?"
"Would it not be simpler to just ask a travel agent?"
"It's not that sort of information."
"Sounds interesting. What do you want?"
Kerrin went on to explain about his flight to Cape Town, and how he wanted the details of the passenger in seat 2B.
"Listen, I've created an email account for myself." Kerrin read out the email address to him. "When you've got any information, can you mail me?"
"Sure thing."
Next, Kerrin wanted to call Fiona at the office. He was sure she would be expecting a call from him by now. He dialled Paul first of all. He picked up straight away.
"Paul, it's me. Listen, don't talk, can't explain just now. Our calls are definitely being monitored. Don't mention any names, but can you transfer me to the Wunderkind?"
"Sure thing. Hey pal, take care of yourself, okay!"
A short pause, the line went quiet a second, then Fiona picked up.
"Hey Kerrin, where are you? I've been waiting…"
"Sorry to interrupt you, but we can't talk on the office phone. Somebody could be listening. Do you know where I have lunch every day?"
"Yes…it's just…"
"Don't say it aloud. Can you please go there now…I'll call you in ten minutes on the phone inside the shop."
Kerrin hung up. Ten minutes later he called the telephone number of the pizza restaurant, where he was almost a local fixture at lunch times. He spoke to Luigi, the owner, and asked if he could see a woman fitting Fiona's description.
"She's just come in the door… hang on, I'll give the phone to her…"
"Kerrin? Is that you?"
"Yes. Sorry for all the secrecy, but I'm in a lot of shit and my phone calls are being taped."
"It's okay. I can guess why you're calling. It's about the 'C.C.' company isn't it?"
"Right first time."
"Kerrin, I need to meet you…I've got something you should see…"
Kerrin was silent for a moment. Obviously thinking.
"…Okay…Do you know where you celebrated your last birthday party?"
Fiona thought about it. Only two months ago she had reached the grand old age of twenty-eight, and a group of them had gone out to the theatre to celebrate.
"Yes."
"Right, I'll meet you there in four hours. Three o'clock on the dot. But make sure you're not followed."
The line went dead, and Fiona rushed back to the office. She needed to pick up a few things, and finish analysing the photographs she had spent the past few hours scrutinising.
Kerrin hung up and checked his watch. Eleven o'clock. He smiled to himself. It was time to throw his first spanner in the works.
He walked through the airport and made his way to the British Airways desk where he booked a seat in Business Class flying to London the next day. He used his old company Amex card, knowing full well that the booking would be immediately traced.
He had no intention of flying to London tomorrow, but he wanted 'them' to think that he was. No, on the contrary, if everything went well, the next day Mark Twain would be flying to San Francisco from Washington. Hopefully, if Kerrin was lucky, he would throw their scent and be able to arrive in California unexpected.
On the way out the door, Kerrin picked up another payphone and called Ralf again.
"Hey, it's me. Call me impatient if you like, but have you got anything yet?" Kerrin asked.
"Yes, and no…I was just about to email you…I got into the flight details okay, and found your name and seat number no problem. It was definitely the right flight…"
"So, what’s the problem?"
"It's interesting…I found seat 2B, but it was empty. Apparently it was never booked. According to the system no one flew on that seat to Cape Town that night. What did you say she said her first name was? Carol?"
"Yes, at least she called herself Carol."
"Well, I checked the whole flight for a Carol. The only one I found was a little girl called Carol Young. She's only twelve."
"No one else?"
"Nope. Officially, there was no one in Business Class called Carol, and that seat was unallocated and unoccupied. But…"
"But what?"
"I checked some other details. It seems that someone in seat 2B pre-booked a Vegetarian in-flight meal. And the after-flight budgetary cross-check says that it was eaten."
"So what are you saying, Ralf?" Kerrin asked.
"Just that, contrary to the official records I would say that your mystery lady did exist, but her details, well…most of them, were erased afterwards. Someone beat me to it!"
"Shit. These guys are good." Kerrin shook his head, mentally kicking himself for not having called Ralf immediately he had returned to the States.
"Ralf, thanks. I'll send you the money in the mail."
Four hours later Kerrin was sitting in his new hire car drinking a Columbian Café Latté. He had rented the dark blue Chevrolet the day before, courtesy of Mark Twain, and now he was parked about a hundred yards away from a small theatre on the outskirts of D.C., where Kerrin was patien
tly waiting for Fiona. Sipping the coffee slowly, he scanned everyone who went in and out of the entrance for a friendly face. He didn't have to wait long.
Fiona got off a passing bus, walked up to the theatre, looked around the street, and glanced at her watch. Kerrin flicked the ignition, and drove up to the theatre, leaning over to the passenger side and calling her name through the open window.
She bent over, and smiled at Kerrin.
"Hey stranger…"
"Quick…get in!", he said, pushing the door open towards her.
She jumped in and they drove, Kerrin keeping an eye on the rear view mirror for the first ten minutes until he was satisfied they weren't being followed.
"Don't worry Kerrin… I was careful. I even changed my bus three times. I've seen enough spy films to know when and how to lose a tail. I think we're okay."
"Better safe than sorry." He replied. "Are you hungry?"
A few minutes later they were seated at the back of a rather shabby pizza restaurant, cold beers in hand. The rest of the restaurant was empty, except for the chef who was sitting talking to the owner near the door, and smoking a cigarette. Kerrin was tempted to get up and point out to them that it was no longer legal to smoke in a public restaurant, but thought better of it. The chef didn't look like the type of man it would be wise to argue with, and Kerrin was trying to blend into the background, not end up in a fight and spend the night locked up behind bars.
"Okay, I think we can talk here. What is it that you have to show me?" Kerrin asked, after they had ordered.
"First things first…I knew you were going to want to know about the 'C.C.' company. So I did my best to find out what I could about them…" Fiona told Kerrin about her 'contact in the government' and what she learned from her about the Chymera Corporation, and then how she had come to look at Mat O'Brian's file, and about the undeveloped film which she had found in the parcel Mat had addressed to himself from Spain.
She reached into her bag, pulling out a large, thick, white envelope.
"I think you should take a look at these…" She said, passing them across to him. "I made several sets of copies. These are yours."
Kerrin opened up the envelope and slipped out three sets of developed photographs. It was immediately obvious that one set was taken from a cheap camera, the instamatic that Fiona had mentioned, but the others had been taken with an expensive camera using a powerful zoom lens.
The quality of the other two sets was very high. They were pictures of groups of people arriving at a hotel somewhere, the photographs being mainly of people getting out of cars and walking up the stairs to the hotel entrance. Close ups of people's heads and faces, and photographs of some people shaking hands as they greeted each other on the steps. Most of the people in the photographs were of people that Kerrin did not know, but there were three people in the photographs that Kerrin immediately recognised.
The first one he spotted was David Sonderheim. It was unmistakably him. Kerrin had studied Sonderheim's face on the driver's licence until he could draw it blindfolded in his sleep.
One photograph was of him walking up the stairs, and another was a full portrait shot of his head just as he emerged from a car at the base of the flight of steps heading up to the hotel.
The second person was the Chairman of NCD, one of America's largest broadcasting companies.
He went through the photographs again slowly, this time managing to pick out some more familiar faces. Although he didn't know their names, he knew they were all important business men, heads of large conglomerates or national industries. Rich men, and powerful.
"What is it, some meeting of industry leaders? Do you know what hotel it was?" Kerrin asked.
"Yes, I do now, but Kerrin, don't you know who these people are? Bloody hell, the photographs read like a 'Who's Who' of Contemporary America! Look, do you know who that is…and him?" Fiona started pointing out the people in the photographs. She had obviously done her research. The names she reeled off included Senators, presidents of most of America's largest companies, and members of some of the richest and most powerful families in America. According to Fiona, the meeting had taken place at a large, luxury private hotel in the countryside on the outskirts of Madrid in Spain, eighteen months before. That so many of these people had gathered together under one roof without it headlining in every American tabloid was incredible. Which, it at last dawned on Kerrin, was precisely the reason the meeting was held abroad, …so that it was out of the spotlight of the American press.
"And what about these photographs?" Kerrin asked almost rhetorically, as he picked up the cheaper set of photographs from the instamatic camera. This set included photographs taken at an airport, and some more taken in the town centre of Madrid, as well as others taken in a hotel room: snapshots capturing images of a person on a television set, being reported on the evening news channel.
The pictures all showed the same person.
Kendrick Hart, the President of the United States of America.
Kerrin sat back in his chair, looking up at Fiona.
"So what does this tell us? That Kendrick Hart was in Spain at the same time, and went to the same meeting?"
"Maybe. I checked it out…the President was on a tour of Europe last year, and was in Madrid in Spain last January when this meeting took place. There are no photographs of the President at the meeting, but if he did attend, maybe Mat O'Brian wasn't able to spot him arriving or leaving the hotel."
"It's too much of a coincidence that all these people met together in a hotel in Spain at the same time that the President was there."
"Why did they meet in Spain at all, and not in the States?"
"…Because they were trying to keep the whole thing secret. Can you imagine what the press would have made of it, if they had found out…no, it makes sense…but the fact that it was a secret meeting in a foreign country far from US soil, sort of points to it being a clandestine meeting, doesn't it."
"I think so. By the way, this photograph here is Buz Trueman. The person Mat was following to Spain. The thing that puzzles me though is that my 'contact' in the government tipped me off about Mat by mentioning that someone had died at The Post while doing a story about a company called the Chymera Corporation…There was no mention of Buz…It was only his internal file that said he was abroad researching Buz Trueman. According to his notes, he had followed him to Spain to try and get an interview with him."
"And he ends up getting these photographs. Shit, are you suggesting that…"
Fiona lifted her finger to her mouth, urging Kerrin to speak quieter. His voice had been getting progressively louder.
"…Yes…Mat went to Spain following Buz Trueman hoping to get an interview with him, and ends up coming across a meeting of the most powerful industrial leaders in America…"
"…Which according to the connection made by your friend in the government tells us that these photographs are probably a record of people attending a meeting of the Chymera Corporation?" Kerrin added excitedly.
"…Of which Buz Trueman and the President of America are both members!" Fiona hypothesised.
Kerrin whistled.
"And what did you say happened to Mat?" Kerrin asked.
"He died in a car accident on his way back to the airport, the same day he posted these photographs back to himself at the paper."
"Do you believe that, or are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kerrin looked at Fiona.
"No. I think we're pretty much on the same wavelength…Mat O'Brian took photographs of a secret meeting of the Chymera Corporation and was killed for doing so."
They both sat silently, lost in their own thoughts.
Just then, the pizza arrived.
They finished the food quickly, excitedly discussing their revelations between mouthfuls and planning what they should do next.
"Fiona, I need your help, but you have to be aware that what we're doing is obviously upsetting some very powerful people. Mat O'Brian probably got killed for wh
at he found out, and now we're treading in his footsteps…how do you feel about that?"
"Excited, and scared, both at the same time. But this is the newspaper business, and I guess it goes with the territory." Fiona smiled back, her cheeks twitching nervously.
"Can you do something else for me then? I have a list of five companies… R.E.W, Purlington Venture Holdings, Small Holdings, Philadelphia Pharma, and Sabre Genetics Inc. Can you do some research on them? Get me any details on the owners. Photographs of the directors even. I would like to see if any of their faces appear here," he said, stabbing at the pile of photos with his forefinger.
"Do you think there is a link from these companies to Chymera?"
"It's just a hunch. Obviously there was a link from Chymera to Gen8tyx quite a long time ago, hence the photograph of David Sonderheim turning up at the conference in Spain. So I wouldn't be surprised if these companies all had something to do with the Chymera Corporation too."
"Sure thing. I'll get right on to it."
When Kerrin left the restaurant, he gave Fiona a big hug. It didn't really seem appropriate to just shake her hand. Before today there had been little connecting the two of them, just a small friendship and mutual sharing of respect from the office. But now that they were both pursuing the truth behind Gen8tyx and the Chymera Corporation, their lives were dependent upon each other for survival and an unspoken bond had been forged between them.
Fortunately, it was unlikely that those chasing Kerrin would have realised that he had recruited a helpful ally, and for as long as that was the case, they had to take full advantage of her freedom to act and move undetected.
Before they parted they had agreed that in future if Kerrin needed to speak to her, he would call her at her desk, ask her about 'the weather', and she would take it as a sign to cross the street to the pizza parlour where he would call her ten minutes later. If they needed to meet, they had agreed to meet at the entrance to the Church of Saint John, a church they both knew in Washington D.C..
The Orlando File Omnibus : (Omnibus Version-Book 1 & Book 2) Page 23
