by Ian Edward
‘I understand. Believe me, I’m just as frustrated as you are. Talk to James, by all means. He’s been analysing the developments here. With a problem like this, the first step is to fully understand the nature of the virus itself, so that an anti-virus can be built. It’s just more complex than first anticipated.’
Westmeyer allowed his anger to subside. ‘Very well, Kate.’ As she turned to leave, be buzzed through to his secretary. ‘Belinda, get me James Reardon on the line.’
Back in his lab, Stephen Hunter was briefing one of his assistants, Jeff Redlich, on re-programming data, when Westmeyer strode in. ‘What’s the impact of all this to our timing?’
‘A day lost, maybe two.’
‘Damn.’
Hunter shrugged. ‘I’m as pissed as you are. I’m just counting myself lucky this is the first time my lab’s been affected.’
‘It should never have happened to any labs. Stephen, if that timing can be improved, let me know. Every day is crucial now we’re in the final phase.’
‘I’m doing everything I can. But do me a favour, keep that blasted ape Donnelly away from me and away from my lab.’
‘I’ve told you before, don’t worry about Donnelly-’
‘I don’t need stand-over men looking over my shoulder making stupid fucking comments. I know you think you need morons like that around, but as far as I’m concerned you should’ve left him working for the mob in New York, where he belongs.’
‘Just don’t concern yourself with Donnelly,’ Westmeyer repeated.
‘Come in, Adam.’ Eddie Cochrane waved Adam into the office, and closed the door behind him. ‘Gut feeling tells me you’re here about this drowning victim.’
Adam pulled up a chair as Eddie returned to his. ‘That’s what I’m here about.’
Eddie spread his arms in a gesture of bewilderment. ‘Amazing. In the space of a few hours I’ve had my star reporter tell me there’s a big story here, I’ve had the mayor on the phone telling me to back off, and now you’ve dropped by. What’s all the fuss about?’
‘There’s nothing to fuss about, but I agree you wouldn’t think that by the way everyone’s acting.’
‘You got that right.’ Eddie shook his head with a bemused expression. There was a part of him, a part of many newsmen, which enjoyed the fuss.
‘I’ve just come from Bingham’s office, so I know he spoke to you after his PR officer copped a call from Melanie Cail. I was concerned that, rather than quell the fuss, he may have piqued your curiosity further. And there’s no need.’
‘Why’s the mayor so concerned?’
‘Eddie, I think it’s just one of those days when emotions are in high gear. It’s an election year, the town’s birthday festival is coming up…’
‘Bingham thinks the festival will help his re-election chances.’
‘I’d say so. Melanie Cail wants to jump on this and turn it into something scary. It’s a hell of a stretch, Eddie, and it got the mayor’s ire up.’
‘Granted. But there is a link. Neither of the victims can be identified.’
‘The local Jane Doe was only found last night. You know very well it could take a few days to establish her identity.’
‘Maybe in the big city. Less likely in a small town like this one.’
‘It’s too early to draw comparisons. You know that, Eddie.’
‘I know.’ Eddie leaned forward, fixing Adam with a purposeful gaze. ‘Tell you what. I won’t run anything other than the known facts this week. Wouldn’t have, anyway. But if the girl hasn’t been identified by then, and if Melanie comes up with a strong angle on the two cases, then I’m going to run with it next week. And that’s fair.’
‘It’s what I wanted to hear.’
‘And I’ll tell you one more thing about all this. It fits a pattern that’s been around since the year dot, Adam. A possible reason certain people got all concerned and you and I can’t really understand why.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘There’s something else going on. Something they know about that we don’t.’
It had been a long, hard day and Kate was tired when she got home.
She wasn’t hungry, not after the smorgasbord lunch. She poured a glass of white wine and sat cross-legged on her sofa with her laptop.
Going to her email she found the file sent by Betty.
Ronda Lagan’s diary filled her screen. Kate entered the date Ronda began her assignment at Northern Rocks, then scrolled through from there, skipping the everyday details, looking for key words or passages that related to the workplace.
Something she hadn’t expected caught her eye.
“May 10: Stephen Hunter showed a lot of interest in my work today. Asked a lot of questions about IT and how we develop systems. Not what I expected of a research scientist, very handsome, almost a bit of a rogue.”
Not almost, thought Kate. She scrolled on.
Before she knew it she was reading another entry about Stephen Hunter.
“May 20: Stephen asked me out today and I actually said yes. I must be nuts. I’m sure he’s something of a devil, but I really like him. Never imagined he’d be interested in me.”
“May 21: Stephen took me to a lovely Thai restaurant. Later, we went strolling along the promenade. It was unseasonably balmy so we kicked off our shoes and sat on the sand and talked for hours. I don’t know what he could possibly see in me but we seem to be on the same wavelength. I really think we clicked.”
Rhonda and Stephen?
He never mentioned any of this to me.
Maybe there wasn’t any more, maybe there wasn’t anything to tell. Her curiosity piqued, Kate scrolled on. Rhonda had seen him again socially on the 23rd and the 24th. And then-
“May 25: Slept with Stephen tonight and it was wonderful. Something incredible is happening. I never expected to come to Northern Rocks and fall in love with an American scientist.”
In love? Kate’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t recall Stephen even being at Rhonda’s funeral.
What kind of man was he, Kate wondered, that he’d dated and slept with Rhonda Lagan, yet not travelled to Brisbane for her funeral? He hadn’t even mentioned the relationship less than a few months later, to Kate, when they’d dated.
Kate scrolled on, reminding herself she didn’t want personal info to divert her from the real purpose: to find out if there was any mention here about the virus.
“May 28: Two weeks ago a couple of desktop PC’s were brought to me with memory and speed problems. Normally I’d go to where the machines were located and work from there, but I was told the PC’s were about to be shifted to new spots anyway. No reason I would’ve thought any more of that. But, fact is, I haven’t seen those PC’s anywhere around the building and today the same technician brought another machine for repairs, using the same story. When I asked where that machine was being shifted to, he couldn’t tell me. Seems odd.”
“June 1: No evidence of that PC, or the two previous ones, coming into use on the Institute’s network. Strange?”
“June 2:Another PC brought in by the technician (I don’t know his name and rarely see him about), for sorting out a software glitch. Easy fix but I’m curious. At a discreet distance I followed the technician once he carried the machine off. He caught the lift down. All that’s down there is the lobby, the security office, the finance section and the parking station. I took the stairs down but there was no sign of the technician. I asked security and the receptionist but they hadn’t seen the technician. Weird? Or am I just over-imagining? I’ll ask Stephen, see what he thinks.”
“June 3: Spoke to Stephen today about the mystery computers. (He thinks management are probably setting up another admin section somewhere in the building.)”
“June 4: William Westmeyer called me to his office. He’s very happy with the new DataStorming program. Feeling good. This is a good gig, Stephen’s terrific, I love it here.”
Had Rhonda been thinking of staying on in Northern Rocks?
And a further entry on the same day: “Betty’s on leave this week and James is away on business. I’ll wait until they’re back. They’ll know how to handle it from here.”
Kate felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard. She knew that Ronda never had the chance to have such a discussion with either James or Betty.
“June 6: Where’s Stephen? He wasn’t at the Institute today. No answer at his apartment, Westmeyer’s out of town. Feeling unsettled. Tony will let me know if he learns anything about the break-in. Depressing day but at least I implemented my little plan. I’ve made a call to the local council, organised a copy of the Institute design plans.”
That was it. No more. And the last entry had been jumbled. What had Rhonda meant by her “little plan.” There was no reference anywhere to the virus.
Kate felt a sudden chill – she presumed Rhonda had written those words in the evening - the same night Rhonda died when her car went over the side of the cliff.
Why was Rhonda out driving later that night? Kate’s eyes welled with tears, something that surprised her. She hadn’t known Rhonda very well. She’d been saddened to hear of her colleague’s death. But reading these words, “…depressing day…’, the last day and the last words of Rhonda’s life, it was as though the full weight of the tragedy bore down on Kate for the first time. Tears slipped down her cheeks, soft, cool reminders of the fragility of life.
Kate reached for her notepad and jotted down two actions she intended to take. The first, to ask Collosimo if he’d followed up on Rhonda’s report about the password breach. The second, to obtain the council approved design plans that Ronda had wanted.
What had Rhonda been looking for?
The doorbell buzzed. It was Adam, as she expected, and as she ushered him in she noted his strained expression. ‘Bad day?’
‘Didn’t need to be.’ He flopped down on the sofa. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve ever enjoyed this job since Kirby’s been boss.’
‘Still bugs you big time, eh?’
‘It’s part of his job description.’
‘And you don’t really know why?’
‘No.’
Kate slipped her hand into his. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’ She positioned the laptop so that he could see the diary entry on the screen. ‘I’ve been reading through Rhonda Lagan’s diary.’
His eyes, though weary, showed his surprise. ‘Rhonda …?’
She explained her theory: that Ronda seemed the most likely person to have introduced a tailor made virus to the Institute’s network, and that the virus first appeared two days after her death. She told him how Rhonda’s personal diary, mysteriously deleted from her PC, was automatically backed up at A.B.C.S.
Adam listened with interest, looking on as Kate showed him certain key passages.
‘What do you think?’ Kate asked.
Adam went quiet for a moment, staring intently at the words on the monitor. ‘I agree it seems unusual. But Kate, there’s no real evidence. It’s a hell of a leap to think this virus, and the computers she couldn’t trace, and the burglary, are all somehow linked and are maybe even tied in with her car crash.’
‘I suppose you’re right. You think I should stop looking into it, don’t you?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
Kate brightened. ‘You do think it’s worth investigating further?’
‘I don’t think there’s any harm in looking over design plans or in asking the security guy about the security breach.’
‘What about the break-in at her apartment?’
‘I attended that crime scene. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as burglaries go.’
‘Did you find fingerprints?’
Adam smiled. ‘Professional thieves tend to wear gloves, Kate. We checked, of course, but nothing useful.’
Kate shrugged, her face reddening. ‘Okay, okay, naïve comment, but I’m not exactly a hardened detective like you.’
‘Hardened?’
She leaned in toward him, gave his nose a friendly tweak. ‘Yes, hardened.’ She grinned. Both were grateful for the lightening of the moment. ‘You look incredibly tired, and I know I am. We should both get an early night.’
‘Agreed. I have an early start. On the road by six AM.’
‘On the road?’
‘I’m driving into Brisbane with Brian Markham, visiting a Dr. Sukumoto at the University.’ Briefly, he sketched in details of the “mermaid” case and the facial reconstruction work. ‘Then, I’m dropping in at the Department of Meteorology on related business.’ He didn’t explain about the coastal charts he was accessing.
‘Then I guess you’d better be going.’
‘I guess I’d better.’
They shared a long, lingering kiss at the front door, neither wanting the moment or the evening to end…
A kiss that goes on longer than at first expected. Kate’s mouth exploring his with a sudden urgency. She realised she was starting to hate these moments when they parted.
Adam’s body responded to the kiss and to the scent of her skin.
‘I thought you were going.’
‘I am.’
‘Wish you didn’t have to…’
‘Same here.’
‘But you’re tired…’
‘Yeah. Early, early start.’ His mouth pressed hard against hers again, tiredness swept away, hidden energy drawn out by the surge of passion.
She pulled him back inside the apartment, pushing the door closed.
‘What’s this?’
‘While we’re still kissing, I like privacy. Old fashioned that way.’
He held her close and she allowed her body to mould with the contours of his.
‘Actually I feel a little guilty,’ she said, coming up for air. ‘You came over here tired and all frustrated about that sergeant guy, needing to relax. And I hit you with my work problems and this Rhonda theory thing of mine.’
‘Well, the kiss makes up for it, consider the slate wiped clean.’ Their lips met again, a long, slow kiss, mouths exploring still deeper, hands roaming now in a natural rhythm of light caresses over each other’s bodies.
‘And I thought you were going.’
‘I am.’
‘I thought you were tired-’
‘Was tired.’ His hand moved inside her blouse. Soft strokes.
‘Now you’re getting sexy,’ she whispered, breaths coming in short bursts, heart drumming like a percussive instrument come alive. She moaned, a dry, throaty sound, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he deftly manoeuvred her blouse up and over her head. Clothes were shed swiftly and easily as they shifted toward the bedroom, the tensions of the day finally left far behind, tomorrow’s expectations temporarily out of mind.
Later they lay, limbs entwined, sated in the afterglow. ‘You know,’ Kate said, ‘that night we met…our first date…’
‘Yes?’
‘This is shameful, admitting this.’ She flashed a cheeky grin. ‘I particularly wanted to date you because you were a cop.’
‘So this is all because I’m some kind of authority figure?’
‘No. Of course not. Once we got together, hit it off the way we did…it was just at first, the night you came to the Institute, we flirted a bit, and I thought that…’ She threw her head back and laughed. ‘I cannot believe I’m telling you this.’
‘You already said that.’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘Well, something like that…shameful admitting…’
‘Anyway, no matter wh
at I thought, I’m glad we got together.’
‘You’d like me even if I wasn’t a cop?’
‘Now you’re getting the gist of it.’
‘I like it when you…when you’re open like this.’
‘I’m being too honest.’
‘Actually I’m finding it incredibly sexy.’
‘Trust a policeman to think honesty is sexy.’
‘Hey, no policeman jokes. Don’t we have an agreement or something on that?’
Her lips brushed his, hair falling across her face. ‘Guess what, Mr. Authority Figure, Little Miss Honest is getting very horny again…’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Detective Superintendent Ron O’Malley strode from the lift and into the reception area of Brisbane Police HQ, and shook hands firmly with Adam and Markham. O’Malley had a solid build and the look of an ex-fighter – a broken nose and steely hair cropped short.
‘Welcome to the big smoke, gentlemen.’ O’Malley’s slight brogue gave him the air of a mischievous Irish imp. ‘Neck’s not too sore then?’
‘Our necks?’
‘From cranin’ to look at the skyscrapers.’ O’Malley laughed heartily. ‘Sorry, can’t resist the redneck jokes.’
‘We’re getting too many skyscrapers of our own in Northern Rocks,’ Markham said, returning the smile.
‘Well, tourist town, isn’t it? If you’re doing well then sooner or later the developers move in with big bucks and big earthmovers. Once they start circling, they’re like vultures.’ O’Malley led them to the lifts, and then to his spacious but cluttered office on the second floor. ‘So tell me, Adam, is Arthur Kirby giving you a hard time up there?’
Adam cocked his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ O’Malley lowered his bulky frame into his chair. ‘Because he always has, that’s his way. With you younger guys especially.’
‘Why’s that?’
O’Malley shrugged. ‘I’ve bumped into Arthur on and off over the years. He’s been stationed at a few precincts, this one among them. Good cop, runs a clean, smart department. But I happen to know that in his earlier days he had a hankering to be a detective. Trouble is, he never made the grade and remained instead, an excellent senior sergeant. Nothing wrong with that but I think the older he got, the harder his attitude toward the young detectives on the force. Then, a few years back his wife upped and left him for a young bloke.’
