by L. A. Larkin
‘If Ben doesn’t come up with the goods, then this is the only other option. I need the B0r3r.’
Chapter 37
Colin and Serena sat in the shade of a large umbrella outside the Crown Hotel, having a liquid lunch. It was too hot to eat. Colin nervously sipped his beer, leaving a residue of froth across his upper lip.
‘Why are you not married?’ he blurted out.
‘Never met the right guy, I guess. How about you?’
‘Me?’ he chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. ‘No. I’m too shy to meet girls.’
‘But in your role, you must meet absolutely everyone who works here; so, you know, you must get to chat to all the new girls.’
‘Most of them are not very friendly. Not like you,’ he grinned.
Serena felt a twinge of guilt as she looked at Colin’s pale and eager face. She knew she was taking advantage of his obvious crush on her, but she needed his cooperation in order to succeed in her plan.
‘Did you know Chris Mann was away sick? Apparently, he’s suffering from depression and has been for a while.’
‘Yes, I know. I removed his fingerprint from the security database, so I think he’s not coming back.’
‘Wow. I thought it was only temporary sick leave. That’s a shame. He’s a really nice guy.’
‘Yes, nice man. Always smiling.’
‘So, he never seemed depressed to you?’
‘No, always happy.’
Silence ensued as Colin introspectively sipped his beer. Serena was finding it very hard to keep the conversation going, so downed her lemon, lime and bitters and was about to make her excuses to leave. She was very distracted—Tracey had jumped at the chance to talk to Ben, and Serena was keen to know how it had gone.
‘If you don’t understand something and need help, you call me. I will help you. It’s no problem. You must understand, if you break security rules at Gene-Asis, you are in trouble.’
‘Thank you, Colin, but I must be getting back. Got loads to do.’
Colin still sat, looking up at her.
‘He’s been checking you out.’
Serena sat back down.
‘Who has?’
‘You are not meant to know this, so please keep it to yourself. Okay?’
‘Of course, Colin.’
‘Mr Bukowski asked Head of Security to run further background checks on you.’
‘Why?’ she asked, visibly concerned.
‘I don’t know. You must have done something wrong.’
He looked at her questioningly.
‘Oh dear. Now I’m worried. I need this job.’
‘Don’t worry. You have nothing to hide, so you have no problem.’
Not quite, she thought. A background check was the last thing she needed. Her ignorance of the service desk’s remote monitoring capabilities could have cost her dearly. This meant that time was running out. She had to use the B0r3r quickly and she needed to persuade Colin to breach security protocols. But how could she do this without landing him in trouble?
They returned to the office, both deep in their own thoughts. Neither spoke and they parted company, leaving the elevator at their respective floors. As the executive suite doors slid open, she heard a voice she had hoped never to hear again. Serena took a step back so the heavy doors shut immediately. Had she been seen? In the split second that Serena had been framed in the open doorway, she’d seen a man in a light grey suit and a woman in a cherry red dress talking to Amanda, the Vice President of Sales and Marketing. Fortunately, they’d been facing in the opposite direction, so Martin Delaney and Gloria Philladitis hadn’t seen her—yet. Serena turned quickly and collided with Darko.
‘Sorry, Mr Petrinec.’
‘Amber, what is the big hurry?’
‘I, er, left my mobile at the pub. Just remembered,’ she spluttered.
He stood, blankly peering down at her. His eyes were palest blue and, up close, his face was harshly chiselled, with protruding cheekbones and sunken eye sockets. He looked as if he were in need of a hearty meal.
‘You must have a lot on your mind to forget such a thing.’
He still didn’t move, so Serena took a step back. He was in her personal space and his presence was disquieting.
‘Yes, very busy. You know—new job and lots to get my head around.’
‘Of course,’ he said, and smiled.
Darko moved towards the suite’s doors, which slid open. Gloria and Martin were heading her way. They were leaving. As fast as she could, she raced down the corridor and stabbed at the elevator call button.
‘That went very well,’ boomed Gloria a few metres behind Serena.
‘Yup, we have one happy client,’ replied Martin.
The elevator door opened and Serena raced inside.
‘Hold the lift,’ called Gloria.
Cornered, Serena had no choice but to do so. They stepped inside, talking. Serena pressed the button for the next floor down, then the ground-floor button, and stepped to the back of the elevator, pulling a tissue out of her bag, and pretending to wipe her nose. She stood behind Gloria and Martin, hoping they wouldn’t look around. Engrossed in their own self-importance, they ignored her.
‘Fuck, what a dumb bitch she is,’ commented Gloria, presumably referring to her client.
‘Keep it down,’ said Martin, flicking a look at Serena. He obviously didn’t recognise her with red hair and glasses.
The confined space filled with the aroma of Gloria’s Chanel No. 5. Serena continued to cover her face with her tissue, wiping her nose. The elevator doors opened and she rushed out, heading straight for the Ladies. Gloria and Martin continued to the ground floor. Diving for a cubicle, she slammed the door and locked it. That was too close for comfort.
Someone entered the bathroom, sniffing. Serena heard the tap run and some splashing. The tap was turned off. Then there was a sob. Serena had never been able to hear someone crying without wanting to comfort them. Flushing the toilet for effect, she opened the cubicle door to find Sue leaning over a washbasin, tears streaming down her face.
‘Sue, what’s the matter?’
‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Sue, sniffing.
‘Let me get you a tissue,’ said Serena, grabbing some toilet paper and handing it to her.
‘Is your new boss giving you a hard time?’
Sue shook her head and then looked up at Serena through red, swollen eyes.
‘He’s dead, Amber.’
Sue burst into tears again.
‘You don’t mean Chris?’ Serena asked, praying she’d misunderstood.
Sue leaned over the basin and, turning on the cold tap, began splashing her face. Serena handed her some paper towels and Sue looked in the mirror at Serena.
‘Yes. He overdosed on sleeping pills last night.’
Speechless, Serena stared open-mouthed at Sue.
‘I just don’t understand,’ continued Sue, shaking her head violently. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Chris wasn’t depressed. I know he wasn’t. The only time I ever saw him down was when his wife left him and, even then, he put on a brave face. He didn’t commit suicide then, so why would he do such a terrible thing now?’
The shock forced Serena to lean back on a washbasin. A man she’d had dinner with only two days ago was dead. She didn’t believe Chris had ever been bipolar. Nor did she believe he had committed suicide.
Chapter 38
His body glistened as he ran from the surf. The early evening sun was still hot as Serena followed, refreshed by the cool water. Chris’ death had really upset her and she’d been listless all day. But the pounding waves had kick-started her energy again. She watched John run up the beach. For a tall man, he was surprisingly muscular, not the skinny rake she remembered from school days. He threw himself onto his towel and closed his eyes.
‘What’s with the tattoo?’ Serena asked, as she towelled her body. Two young men walked by and eyed her approvingly. Her black bikini was skimpy and its top barely held he
r ample breasts.
‘A blue marlin,’ John replied. ‘I just decided to get it done one day. Guess it symbolises my new life here, living at the beach.’
She stared at him.
‘What?’ he asked, smiling, his eyes still closed.
‘How did you … Oh never mind. I mean, I feel I know you so well and yet sometimes I feel you’re a different person from the John I’ve known all my life.’
‘But I am, Seri. You’ve been away a long time.’ He opened his eyes. ‘And what about you? You’ve changed heaps. Who’d have thought you’d turn into a corporate spy? And when did that belly-button ring happen?’
He laughed and rolled onto his side with his hand propped under his head so he could look at her. She mirrored his posture.
‘When I was in Soho. I think I wanted to check I was alive. I’ve spent my career schmoozing corporate execs, putting on a show for them, being focused on an outcome. I wanted to break the rules, just a little. I know this sounds childish but when they put it in, with the gun, the sting was exhilarating.’
‘Suits you.’
‘It’s funny how life works out. It’s like I’ve gone full circle—left home, gone to the other side of the world, and here I am back in Australia, living with the boy next door. And you know what? It’s good to be home. I’ve missed your company.’
‘It’s good to have you home,’ replied John, resting his free hand on hers. She felt the same electricity she’d felt the night they’d deciphered McPherson’s Bible message. She could hear her heart beating so loudly it drowned out the sound of the crashing waves.
‘Seri, I’m sorry.’ His expression was as desolate as ground zero. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to lie next to him but her feelings were a distraction she couldn’t afford right now.
‘I know, John. When this is over, we’ll talk.’
He nodded. ‘I can wait.’
‘Fancy some dinner? We can talk strategy as we eat,’ she said, nodding at the sign above the fish and chip shop. It read ‘Chish and Fips’.
‘Yes, boss. So, tell me, what did your last slave die of?’ he replied, grinning. She chased him up the beach to the café.
The weather-beaten hut had a few rickety tables and chairs outside. They ate barramundi and chips. Serena toyed with her food.
‘I feel bad about this.’
‘Then find that file,’ said John, spearing some chips with a plastic fork.
‘Did you see the piece on Munroe in the paper today?’ asked John.
‘No, what did it say?’
‘Still missing. Gave a bit of background. He travelled a lot, but was based at the Gibson lab. Same place as this Ben character.’
‘I’ve got a theory,’ said Serena. ‘Munroe told Mancini something that could ruin the company and threatened to expose them. He’d linked hep S to their GM seeds; to Supercrop itself, their leading brand. Mancini couldn’t bear to live with the responsibility, so he hanged himself. Munroe was now a liability and Gene-Asis had to stop him blabbing to the press. That could then explain what Chris meant by “that poor man”. Munroe reported directly to Chris, so he would’ve told Chris all about it. Therefore, Chris would’ve been party to any plan to stop Munroe blabbing.’
‘Makes sense.’
Her Tbyte beeped. It was a text message from Tracey.
Sorry, love. Your source is a waste of space. He couldn’t give me anything concrete. And very evasive. I’d stay away from him. Anyway, I’ll get on with my work here and keep you in the loop. Love, Tracey
‘Shit,’ she said, passing her handheld to John, who read the text.
‘Plan B then. The B0r3r’s ready. I’ll give it to you when we get back.’
‘Tomorrow could be my last chance to use it. They’re checking me out, Colin told me. If they dig too deep, they might discover my real identity.’
‘So, how are you going to get the B0r3r into Bukowski’s keyboard?’
‘There’s a big company dinner tomorrow night. Everyone is going, bar a few security people. I need to time it so that I see Bukowski’s watch fob code just before he leaves and before METRO gets turned back on. I’ll have till 6 pm.’
‘And Bukowski will leave before then?’
‘Yup, he’s going to his penthouse to change.’
‘And the biometric mouse?’
‘I just need to organise Colin beforehand.’
‘It’s very risky. Too risky.’
‘I can’t stop now. Too many people have died. I’m not going to let them get away with it.’
Chapter 39
Serena had deliberately left working on an urgent document till the end of the day. She watched Bukowski prepare to leave and checked the clock: it was 5.40 pm. Her colleagues were either on their way to the venue or in the bathrooms changing. Pre-dinner drinks started at 6 pm. All day, people had remarked to her on her funky, gold-coloured earrings. Little did they know that they were the two parts of the B0r3r, dangling from little hooks. The thin red line, denoting the receiver, was only visible at very close range.
‘You look gorgeous,’ said Serena to Sue, who shimmered in a silver full-length dress. She wore a diamanté necklace, bracelet and earrings, complete with diamanté shoes and bag. She looked like a jewellery shop.
‘So do you,’ replied Sue, with a half-smile.
Serena’s dress was dark chocolate, with slender shoulder straps. She wore her hair tucked behind her ears and no jewellery, except for her earrings. The understated look was stunning.
‘Get a move on, Amber, our cab’s here,’ said Ron.
‘Go without me. I just need to finish this.’
She’d arranged to meet Colin so they could go to the dinner together. But she planned to persuade him to change the biometric database and leave her behind, with the promise she’d join him later.
‘Forget it. Come on, this is your dinner; you organised it,’ Ron persisted.
‘I’ll just be ten minutes. Off you go.’
They left the executive suite, chattering loudly.
‘No, you don’t,’ said Bukowski. ‘You go with the others.’
He leaned on her desk and smiled. Immaculate as always, he smelled of aftershave.
‘But, Al, I just want to finish …’
‘I insist.’
‘Please, Al. I’m not good at parties. I’d rather stay here a little longer.’
‘Am I going to have to take you there myself?’
‘No, Al, I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Well, off you go then.’
Thoroughly frustrated, she dropped into IT and picked up an over excited Colin, who fiddled with his bow tie constantly. They took a cab together and she texted John, letting him know it was all off for tonight. Serena read an email from Tracey, careful to ensure Colin couldn’t see it.
Mate,
I’m in the right place, that’s for sure, but people are frightened to talk. Some official geezer keeps turning up, asking me questions. I’ve told him I’m doing a piece on the effectiveness of food and agricultural aid, but I don’t think he believes me. I’ve met a very brave woman who’s been banished by her family, and she’s really opened up to me. What she’s told me has made my stomach churn. It’s terrible. I just need to get it on film. She’s taking me to meet some of the ‘aid’ recipients today. Wish me luck!
‘Everything okay?’ asked Colin.
‘Put it this way. Things are looking up,’ she beamed. Her plans might have been thwarted but Tracey was hot on the case.
As Serena stepped out of the taxi, she looked up. The building loomed upwards like a pointed finger scratching the pale blue sky. She’d noticed it before. After all, who in Sydney hadn’t? Its twenty-six floors loomed large above Darlinghurst, out of sync with the terrace houses at its base. Like a tall white cylinder made of a child’s building blocks, the top two floors rotated 360 degrees every twenty-four hours. This gave the restaurant and suites on those floors an ever-changing view of the city, the harbour, and out
to the Blue Mountains. Bukowski’s suite was on one of these floors.
As she entered the banqueting room, her Tbyte beeped. It was a message from Ben.
‘We must talk tonight.’
Harsh lamps illuminated the hotel’s white exterior, blinding her like sunlight reflected off glass. Ben had sent her another message during the course of the evening, asking her to be outside the front of the hotel at eleven o’clock. She didn’t want him causing trouble so she had reluctantly agreed. She walked down the sweeping drive and into the street. Perhaps he was waiting for her there?
Something moved in the darkness a few metres down the road. Serena could just make out a long head of hair and a skirt that was very short. The woman paced the pavement in her high-heeled shoes. When she turned her back on Serena, it was evident that she had nothing on underneath the skirt.
A shadow slunk into existence opposite Serena, the red glare of a cigarette highlighting a large hand. It beckoned her. She peered at it, staying still. Then Ben moved under a streetlight, still beckoning, and she crossed the road. In nothing but her evening dress, she felt very exposed. If it were noticed, her behaviour would seem strange to her colleagues, and she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
‘Here, take this,’ he said, handing her a cigarette.
‘I don’t smoke.’
‘You do now. It looks like we’re just having a smoko together. Here, just hold it.’
He lit it for her, inhaling, and then handed it to her.
‘Why do you need to see me?’
‘I leave tomorrow.’
‘I know. And you wasted that journalist’s time, so why should I give you any of mine?’
‘I was checking her out—the journo, I mean. I wanted to be sure she was for real. I’m not giving her anything until I know I can trust her.’
‘Or you’re just yanking my chain and you haven’t really got anything worth saying.’ Serena looked at the hotel entrance, keen to rejoin the party.
‘I’d like to talk to her again.’
