STRANGE BODIES (a gripping crime thriller)

by Antonia Marlowe

  But he knew somehow that it wasn’t mere lust for Verity … she had touched something deeper, some spark that had lain dormant in him for a long time.

  Adams and Blanchard arrived outside the Paddington house on the dot of five. Verity had been working with her AI computer in a heavily shielded room, digging deeper into the Richardson’s background, and watched a car leave Fortuna House on a wall monitor. Once the ID of the occupants was confirmed she watched until it turned into her street.

  The AI had easily penetrated the city surveillance system a long time ago and the wall monitors could show any part of Sydney, or the world for that matter, but only Marcus knew of its ability to bypass the government’s BigSys monitors.

  ‘Merlin, please monitor and record this meeting. And make sure they don’t find anything they shouldn’t.’

  ‘Why, Verity, what do you mean? If I can’t find the source, some hot shot c-tec won’t be able to either. We’re up against a very smart person but I’ll get there. I always do.’

  She closed down, sealed and left the room then went down to meet her … guests.

  She had come home early that day after the conference at the newspaper office. Milton Cavendish, the editor, was the only one in the office who knew she was the RAZZ! researcher.

  ‘If I’m forced to tell Commander Adams I’ll try to contact you,’ she had said to him.

  Then she had hurried home to change into casual clothes and to do what she had to do before they arrived. The computer in her downstairs study was fairly ordinary, by her standards.

  She went down to the front door and unlocked the parking barrier at the kerb. When they buzzed at the front gate she released the locks then watched the security screen in the hall as they walked up the path. Her highly sophisticated system read their microchip data and confirmed their identity. She didn’t know much about this Jeffrey Blanchard but she would soon know how good he was.

  Commander Adams had nothing except the usual odds and ends in his pockets, no weapon, and the other man had only electronic gear, some disks, data sticks and cards in his bag. She closed down the screen and opened the heavy security grille and the front door just before they reached it.

  She stood aside from the doorway and said, ‘Please come in.’ She led them down an entrance hall, one side displaying three massive abstract wall screens which seemed to ripple with life in an ever changing pattern, then through to an archway leading to an enormous space. They stood lost for words for a few seconds as they gazed at the amazing interior of Verity’s house. No room full of antiques for her. In fact there appeared to be very little furniture. There was a large, long low L-shaped black couch, a table at each end, holding a silver lamp. One large red chair facing it provided a touch of colour. More huge wall screens with their slowly changing abstract pictures filled the north-east wall with a beautiful collection of black and white photographs of old Sydney, blown up to poster size, filling another wall. Glass doors at the far end showed a glimpse of a conservatory. It appeared the house had been gutted to remove interior walls and half the floor of the upper storeys. The living area had a glowing glass-like ceiling with a diffused glow softly lighting the room. A dining table, a thick slab of glass that seemed to float in mid air on a near transparent base, sat at the other end surrounded by six near transparent chairs. An open plan kitchen with a solid black granite central island, completed the room.

  The floor above was accessed by an elegant curved staircase, its thick perforated centre column lightly entwined with some tropical vine as it wound through a mini jungle to the left. Most of the space on that side was filled with an indoor garden, a green riot of ferns, small palms and dozens of other plants and twining vines. A fine mist from concealed sprays dappled the leaves and the air was full of a fresh green scent. A waterwall sent its trickling contents to a small stream bubbling gently over rocks, meandering through the tangle of reeds and other greenery before disappearing underground to reappear outside the rear doors in the greenhouse attached to the house. Through the glass doors they could see a pond with papyrus and waterlilies, edged by rocks and tropical plants.

  She saw them goggling at the unexpected sight and said, ‘It’s all recycled water. My house is almost completely self-contained and everything that can be re-cycled is—water, power, waste. The waterwall and stream and reed bed are all part of the multi-phase filtration system. The lap pool, which is in the courtyard, is also part of the system.’

  ‘Very impressive, Ms Burne, you have a beautiful house,’ said Adams. He performed the introductions. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Blanchard. He is one of our best c-tecs and is here, as we discussed, to see if he can trace the sender of those pictures.’

  ‘Hi there, Ms Burne, I’m real pleased to meet you. Call me Jet,’ said the sergeant with a big grin, holding out a hand. ‘This is a great system you’ve got here. Looks really efficient as well as beautiful. Who designed it and set it up?’

  ‘Well, I did, of course,’ said Verity, looking surprised at the question.

  ‘Wow. If I ever buy a house I’ll be talking to you. Now, the Commander tells me you’ve received a few nasty pictures and other emails and you haven’t been able to trace the sender. Well, you just let me at it and I’ll soon track it for you.’ They shook hands as he smiled, perhaps a little condescendingly at her.

  Disguising her amusement with a frown, she said, ‘I’ll take you into my study and you can have a look. Do you want to come too or would you prefer to wait here, Commander?’

  ‘I’ll come with you both.’

  The study was located down the entry hall, opposite the kitchen. There was no door apparent but she slid one of the large abstracts aside revealing a heavy door, with a metal plate. She held her palm to the panel and murmured something. The door slid to the left silently and disappeared into the wall.

  The two men looked at each other with raised eyebrows as she led them into her study. It ran almost the length of the hall and was divided into two sections with a wall of shelves built around a heavily shuttered window. The shelves contained printed books, magazines and manuals as well as dozens of slim labelled boxes, odd pieces of equipment and a few photographs. A couple of standard office chairs sat next to a desk covered with papers.

  At the other end was a massive computer set up, with a console housing enough controls, it seemed, to launch a space ship. Two high-back chairs were drawn up to it. Jet goggled at it then looked at Verity with considerable respect. ‘Holy shit … excuse me, ma’am. Wow, this is so cool … how did you get all this stuff. Um, two main units by the look of it, and table top unit and is that a holo unit? And … and I don’t recognise anything else!’

  ‘Oh, you know, it just builds up over the years,’ she said blandly.

  ‘Yeah, right. Hey, what’s that? I don’t believe it—a Sherlock 221 tracker! You can’t buy them in a shop, where the hell … Ok, don’t ask,’ he said when she gave him a look. ‘And how many screens on that wall?’

  ‘Most of the wall is a screen … up to twelve separate ones—any configuration, any size. That group of controls will do it, or voice activated, as you wish. And there are four units actually but the small one down the end is a prototype. It’s not fully operational yet, still in test phase. For close work there are three or four screens that can slide up from the console.’

  She picked up a small shiny gold square, all the world looking like a tile that might have come off a kitchen or bathroom wall. ‘This is the third working computer.’

  Jet Blanchard couldn’t believe it. ‘That’s a computer! It’s no bigger than a … what … thick piece of cardboard. Where did you get it? What does it do?’

  ‘It’s a Tyle, spelt T. Y. L. E. Actually this version of the Tyle is about to be released … just in time for Christmas. Next Monday I think is the date. They’re starting an ad campaign this coming weekend … TV, papers, online, billboards. You won’t be able to miss it.’

  ‘Can I see how it works?’

  �
��Perhaps a bit later. Now the prototype, that’s something else … I could tell you but …’

  ‘I know, then you’d have to kill me. An oldie but a goodie.’

  They both laughed then put their heads together talking some e-gibberish only they could understand. Jet was showing her some considerable respect now.

  Adams had settled himself in one of the chairs near the door and watched with some amusement. It was good to see her more relaxed even if it wasn’t with him. It was as he had been told—she was an expert at this and was being surprisingly open about it. And that alone made him suspicious that all was not as it seemed. He supposed it was the nature of his work and years of experience that told him to look beneath the surface. As he watched them she activated one of the wall screens.

  ‘Computer, verify ID for unit one, my voiceprint. Show first five images from folder Richardson murders, on wall screens one to five, execute.’

  Acknowledged, Verity Burne. Your ID confirmed. Retrieving … images on screens one to five.

  The first of the murder images appeared as Verity picked up a remote. As she clicked through the series, twenty in all, Jet collapsed into a chair at the console and gritted his teeth to stop the bile that rose. He was amazed at how calm she seemed to be.

  ‘My system should be able to trace the source of any email sent to it. But it just ran into a brick wall on this and the earlier one. I’ll show you the latest.’

  She sat down at the console next to Jet and touched another control. ‘Open email from Yorick.’ An email message appeared which merely said, ‘Some information for you.’ It was signed with a small skull. Then followed icons for the images they had just seen. She touched another control and the Sherlock 221 hummed briefly then went quiet with just some flashing lights to show it was working.

  ‘If the Sherlock 221 can’t trace that address I don’t see how I can. Do you still want me to try, Commander,’ Jet said, turning back to Adams.

  ‘This is way beyond my expertise. Ask Ms Burne if it’s worth the effort,’ he said. ‘Your call, Ms Burne.’ He was curious to see her reaction. Was she as easy with this invasion of her privacy as she appeared to be?

  Verity thought for a minute. ‘I’ve met your DCI Lucas a couple of times at electronics fairs and conferences. He rang me not long before you arrived and told me a bit about you. You were in a murder squad in New York before you switched to electronic crime, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, the bodies just never stopped coming; it’s a violent place. I had three years there before it really got to me. When a juiced up junkie threw my partner out of a tenth floor window that was it for me. The guy was sky-high on some weird drug combination … I shot him as he grabbed me—I had no choice.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘I’ve never carried a weapon since then. I still have the odd nightmare … what the hell am I doing, saying! Geez, Ms Burne, I’m real sorry about that.’

  Verity touched his shoulder gently, a butterfly touch. ‘Please don’t feel bad. I lived in Boston then New York a few years ago so I know what it’s like there.

  ‘Now, I’m happy for you to try. Sometimes a new brain can come up with a new approach, so yes, Jet, I’ll introduce you to my system. I’ll need your ID for the scanner.’

  ‘A voice sample?’ he asked, as he handed over his police ID.

  ‘No, just the ID. I’ve already got your voice,’ she said with a grin. What she hadn’t told him was she’d already stored the data from his microchip, as well as that of the Commander. This was overkill, but she didn’t want to give anything away if she could help it.

  She made a rapid pass over the console then said, ‘Computer one, temporary access for a guest user. Police ID. Execute.’

  Please advise level of access.

  She scanned his ID and a few seconds later the computer spoke in its neutral voice: ID verified. Temporary access level 3 on computer one to Detective Sergeant Jeffrey Willis Blanchard.

  ‘How can you verify my ID … oh, okay no questions. Right, if I can’t find it in an hour, that’s it. Ma’am, you are just too good.’

  Verity slanted a look at him then said firmly, ‘Computer, exclude access to all other units. Internet access unit one is enabled. Execute.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it. The computer will recognise your voice now. You engage its attention with the word “Computer One”. It won’t carry out a command until you say “Execute”. That’s an intercom—just touch that icon and talk if you need anything,’ said Verity pointing to one side. ‘It’ll find me.’

  Adams spoke then. ‘I have a few more questions, Ms Burne. Perhaps we could step outside.’ It wasn’t really a request—the note of command in his voice made that clear.

  ‘Very well. We’ll go into the kitchen if you don’t mind. I’ll make coffee.’

  She wanted him out of her study and now he had made it easy.

  Chapter 23

  The kitchen made the study seem cosy. Black granite and chromo-steel predominated with the only splash of colour provided by a red bowl of green apples on the centre island. Nothing else was on display, no appliances, no knick-knacks, no artistic displays of gourds, no gingham curtains, in fact no windows. A control panel was etched into the bench top and at a touch a panel on the opposite wall opened to reveal a coffee machine.

  ‘You take it black as I recall, Commander.’

  ‘Thank you, yes. And can we drop the “Commander” and “Ms Burne”, please?’

  ‘Was that one of the questions you wanted to ask?’ She pulled out stools from under the island bench. ‘If you are going to interrogate me we might as well sit down.’

  ‘Actually, it was. And you didn’t answer. Now, will you please call me Nicholas or even better, Nick?’

  She smiled then, the first time since he arrived. She went over to the coffee machine, poured two mugs of coffee and handed him one. She pulled out a stool for herself, looked down at her coffee mug.

  ‘Alright, Nicholas,’ she said quietly. ‘But I reserve the right to withdraw permission.’

  He said, ‘Fair enough. But give me fair warning … Verity. Now, I got that information I mentioned just before we left. You asked me if there was another aspect of the case. Well, there were a couple of leads we were following up. One was to do with a deserted house not very far away. The other was why the gate was closed but I think we can figure that now.’

  ‘The old house burned down before we got to investigate it, suspicious in itself, suggesting someone knew we were about to go there. We think the gates were closed to make sure someone would walk up there. If they drove there was a chance the bodies wouldn’t be found for a long time.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘There is something else I wanted to ask you.’

  Before he could continue they heard Jet’s voice from the intercom on the kitchen wall. ‘Ms Burne, I got a problem. Can you, uh, come in here, please?’

  They found Jet pacing up and down in front of the console. ‘I can’t get anywhere. This system—I don’t understand. Your operating system—this is Horizon 6, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh sorry, I forgot. I’m beta testing a new one. I should have reverted before you started. Just a sec.’ She walked over to the console and said, ‘Computer, revert to Horizon 6. Execute.’

  Reverting. Advise access level.

  ‘All current instructions to stand. No change to access. Execute.’

  Jet looked at her and shook his head, bemused.

  ‘Mmm,’ Verity said. ‘Well, this should work for you now. Do you want to have another go at tracking that email?’

  ‘You’ve managed to impress our young friend. Do you think it’s worth his effort to go on?’

  ‘I think he’ll do better with the current system. Another half hour perhaps. If there’s no progress by then I think we can forget it. I got bounced around the world, the moon and various satellites. He’s good, very good.’

  ‘Can I have coffee before I go on? Need the boost,’ said a subdued Jet.

  They all went back to the
kitchen and perched while Verity filled a mug with black coffee. Jet piled in three sugars and gulped it like an addict. Adams half listened while the other two chattered away in near unintelligible e-talk. He sat and enjoyed looking at Verity’s animated face.

  ‘Right, I’ll give it another burst,’ said Jet. He got up and put his mug in the sink. ‘Half hour, tops.’

  Nicholas finished his coffee then took a deep breath, ‘Well, I’d hoped for something a little more private but since that seems to be out of the question, I’ll say what I want to say now. I’d like to see you again out of working hours, Verity. Dinner, even lunch, maybe.’

  Verity said nothing at first, looked at him, then shook her head, ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Nicholas.’ She looked away, picked up her mug and drank.

  He continued, looking directly at her. ‘Since I arrived in Australia most of my life has been hard work, getting to know how things work here and setting up the liaison teams. It’s been ninety percent work for months. I haven’t even unpacked most of the stuff I brought from England.’

  He thought a second or two and grinned boyishly. ‘No, maybe the hardest work was beating off the mothers of Sydney. Amazing how many of them are looking for husbands for their daughters.’ He added, ‘Some of the daughters needed beating off too.’

  Verity laughed then. ‘Yes, and Adelaide was one of them. She loves fresh blood.’

  ‘She’s lovely but definitely not my type.’

  He said quietly, ‘Verity, I don’t know how much you know about me, but my wife died five years ago. Since then there’s been no other woman in my life. A few casual dates—well-meaning friends have tried to set me up from time to time but I haven’t been interested.’

  Verity sat listening quietly, keeping her face and body still, but she was finding it hard not to react to what he was saying.

  ‘Until now … I think you know what I’m going to say. Verity, I’d like to spend some time with you, get to know you better.’