The Delta Chain

by Ian Edward

  Adam moved closer to the map, focusing on the area specified. Removing his notebook from his shirt pocket, he jotted down the details. ‘How accurate is this?’

  ‘I haven’t given you an exact map reference, just a general area, a fairly wide one. The probability, in my view, is very high that the body entered the water within that radius.’

  ‘Better than I’d hoped.’ Adam stood back and cupped his chin between thumb and forefinger as he considered the information. He exchanged glances with Markham. Then he turned to Donaldson. ‘Anyone would think you do this for a living.’

  Donaldson grinned. ‘We have the Water Police on the line every other day, but I have to say we don’t get many enquiries, if any, of your type.’

  Adam stepped into an adjoining office for privacy and used his cell to phone John Harrison at the Northern Rocks station.

  Harrison came on the line and Adam gave him the map co-ordinates. ‘I want you to get in touch with the Ports Authority and the Coastguard. We need a list of all commercial and leisure craft known to have been in that vicinity on the 24th and the 25th.’

  ‘No problem. But Adam, what about any craft not listed with the Ports guys.’

  ‘Nothing we can do about that. We just have to work the angles available to us. And John, get in touch with the Civil Aviation authorities as well. If the girl could have entered the water from a boat, then there’s an equal chance she could’ve dropped from a low flying plane or chopper.’

  ‘You’re nothing if not thorough,’ Terry Donaldson said minutes later as Adam outlined his tactics. At the front lobby he extended his hand, first to Adam, then to Markham. ‘Best of luck, gents, though I must say you’re playing one hell of a long shot.’

  ‘The bookies’d give us odds of a few hundred thousand to one,’ Markham said.

  ‘At least.’ Donaldson laughed. ‘But listen, I’m a betting man and more than a few times I’ve backed a rank outsider that’s come in a winner.’

  ‘With detective work, Terry,’ Adam said, ‘you play the long and the short odds. Sometimes the tiniest piece of info is the one on which a case turns.’

  ‘The study of the ocean is the same. Believe me, I applaud your approach. Please, let me know how you get on.’

  A research centre, like Westmeyer’s, has security-locking devices on all doors and at the perimeter gates. No window access. There were two security officers patrolling the offices and grounds throughout the day. During the evenings, an outsourced security company kept a watchful, drive-by eye. Either Tony Collosimo, or one of his officers, worked a late shift during the week.

  On her drive back to the Institute, Kate had decided how she would raise the subject of Rhonda’s PC security breach.

  ‘Hi, Tony,’ Kate said, breezing in to Collosimo’s office. ‘Any urban terrorists on the prowl?’ She flashed a toothy grin.

  ‘Just boring bloody scientists.’ He returned the grin. ‘You’ve been on the move a bit this morning?’

  ‘A few errands to run, you know how it is.’

  ‘I hear Westmeyer chewed off a piece of your ass over this virus.’

  Kate had always had an easy camaraderie with Collosimo. ‘Not like you to gossip, Tony.’

  ‘Not gossiping. It’s just I saw the look on your face when you walked out of his office yesterday. And something I overheard Donnelly and Hunter saying gave me that impression, y’know.’

  ‘Well…he didn’t chew my ass as you so unkindly put it. But we did have a serious discussion. And everyone is, understandably, anxious.’

  ‘Computers. The world was a better place without them.’

  It was the perfect lead-in, better than Kate could have hoped for. ‘Speaking of computer problems, you’ve reminded me of something Rhonda Lagan said.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Someone used her password and logged onto her PC. She seemed concerned, said she’d reported it to security. Did you ever figure what that was all about?’

  Collosimo stared off, trying to focus. ‘I do remember that. Not much I can do about computer stuff, you lot from A.B.C.S. are the experts there. I was able to tell her, though, that there’d been no other such reports from the staff here, and certainly no leaks of sensitive information.’

  ‘What did you make of her report?’

  ‘I thought she might have been mistaken. Fact is, I thought Rhonda had been acting a little…strangely. She’d asked a few unusual questions those last few weeks.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Don’t recall specifics.’ He paused, and Kate saw a flicker of remembrance cross his eyes. ‘One thing that comes to mind, she asked if there was much activity here at night, whether we had deliveries at the rear, which we don’t, and I would’ve thought she knew that. When I asked why she wanted to know she just shrugged.’

  ‘That was it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But she asked other things?’ As the words rolled off her tongue Kate realised she was being too eager.

  ‘Like I said, nothing specific. She asked a few odd questions and then she reports someone sneaking into her computer. You want to know what I think? I believe she had an overactive imagination. Not so unusual for people to get a little paranoid after a burglary. Why all the questions, Kate?’

  ‘No reason. Just curious. Anyway, back to work for me. I’ve got plenty to deal with.’

  ‘Haven’t we all.’

  So Collosimo hadn’t taken Rhonda’s complaint seriously, and she’d died before pursuing it further. But something had been worrying Rhonda. Her questions to Tony about after-hours activity at the Institute fitted now with Kate’s observation on the building plans.

  The design included a lower level that had an entry at the rear of the building – a design element that had not, at this stage, been included in the Institute.

  And yet Rhonda had been curious about activity in that area of the building.

  Rhonda had suspected something odd.

  But what?

  It was peaceful in Barbara Cails’ backyard. A cute, crimson winged robin darted about on the large tree that dominated the garden.

  ‘You go to church on Sundays, don’t you?’ Joey asked Costas. He’d been aimlessly kicking a ball about and watching while Costas watered plants.

  ‘Yes. I do.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ Costas considered this a moment. He couldn’t remember anyone actually asking him that question before. He didn’t have a ready-made answer. ‘I go to pray and to learn as much as I can about the Bible and God’s ways…and to share – yes, I suppose to share with others so I can grow.’

  ‘Grow?’

  ‘Spiritually, Joey. So I can grow spiritually.’

  ‘Mum says she wants to start going. She said I don’t have to go if I don’t want to.’

  ‘That’s right. But you’re welcome there, you know, anytime you’d like to try it.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s boring?’

  ‘No.’ Costas fixed a light-hearted gaze on the boy and chuckled. ‘But I’m sure I did when I was your age. All those hymns. And I can understand you’d find the sermons tedious.’ He chuckled again. ‘But no – I actually find it uplifting. And you know, there are activities there for the young people…’

  ‘Huh!’ Joey made a sudden, vicious kick to the ball, sending it sailing high and over the back fence. His voice took on an angry, frustrated tone. ‘How can something so boring be uplifting. What kind of a word is that, anyway? Uplifting. You are really sad.’ And he stormed off.

  In the kitchen, having overheard the exchange, Barbara spoke gently but urgently to Joey as he passed through. ‘How could you speak to Costas like that?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘You spat your words at him like he was some kind of wild dog.’

  ‘Well he wasn’t making any damn sense!’

  ‘Don’t you speak to me like-’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? Eh? Why shouldn’t I?’

  Barbara’s voice
cracked as she shouted back. ‘You know what a terrible shock Costas had the other day, yet you have no sense of caring or understanding.’

  Joey’s arm flung out, pointing toward the backyard as his own voice rose even louder. ‘He should be strong. He’s a man, isn’t he?’

  Barbara shook her head in disgust. ‘I thought I raised you to have some regard for others…’

  Joey stuck his little finger up. ‘He’s got you wrapped around this. Well, no one, you hear me, no one’s smart enough to get me wrapped around anything.’ Barbara watched him go as tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

  Costas appeared in the kitchen doorway, framed by soft rays of sun. ‘He’s angry and confused, Barbara.’

  ‘I’ve been trying…we’ve been trying…so hard.’

  Costas’ arms enfolded her. ‘He looks at me and he’s angry this space isn’t still occupied by his father.’ Barbara nestled closer to him.

  ‘We have to give it time,’ he said.

  ‘I’m beginning to worry,’ Barbara said, ‘that time and understanding aren’t going to be enough, not nearly enough.’ The tears stung her cheeks.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A knowing smile crossed Melanie Cail’s lips as she slipped out of her shoes. She loved the sudden feeling of freedom. Before advancing any further she hitched up her skirt and slid her stockings off, sighing with relief at the touch of her skin grazing the soft plush pile. It made her tingle with an earthiness that was at once both natural and sexual.

  The door to the townhouse had been left unlocked and a glass of white wine awaited her on the circular mini table that stood in the entrance passageway. It had always intrigued her that this man, who did not appear to be at all domesticated or conventional in other ways, actually got a kick from inviting her to his place and cooking a sumptuous meal for her. Whenever he did, it was always the entrée to a night of high voltage lovemaking.

  She went through to the kitchen. ‘Smells incredibly good,’ she said.

  He turned away from the stove, where several pots smouldered, rich with the aromas of vegetables and stewed meats, and placed his arms around her tiny waist. He drew her near. ‘So do you.’ His lips touched hers, lightly at first, causing sparks to ignite at the base of her spine, then spreading and unleashing the warmth to her loins. As his mouth pressed harder against hers, he lifted her skirt above her thighs and his hands explored the soft white skin there. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. ‘Hardly the time…or the place…’

  ‘With you, it’s always the time and place,’ he said, trailing kisses from her cheeks and down along her neckline.

  ‘The meal…’

  ‘Won’t be ready for thirty minutes.’

  ‘Since when is thirty minutes enough for you?’

  ‘Just consider it a teaser.’

  Later they lay exhausted, tenderly caressing each other’s thighs and buttocks. ‘We should have brought some wine in with us,’ Stephen said.

  ‘You’ve got a meal to check on and I need to visit the little girls’ room.’

  Minutes later she came out of the bathroom as Stephen was heading toward the kitchen in T-shirt and boxer shorts. ‘Slip something on and come to dinner,’ he said, turning in the doorway to look back at her. ‘But I wouldn’t bother putting too much on.’

  She pursed her lips at him seductively.

  He disappeared into the kitchen as she paused by the open door of his study. She glanced in at the tiny room, noticing the laptop and printer on his desk, surrounded by sheets of paper. Melanie gave way to a momentary stab of curiosity and tiptoed over to take a peek at what he’d been working on. He was always boasting about his work whilst being secretive about the details, something that both amused and often irritated her.

  The printout she was staring at was covered in rows and rows of numbers. There must have been thousands of numerals on that page, closely spaced. Across the top she read: 10/9 – 5TH revision, G sequence, modified data. Class: Experimental – simulations.

  It meant absolutely nothing to her, no reason why it should, but she was struck all of a sudden by a devious and delicious thought: there were a number of pages, similar in appearance, plus there were a number of pages in the bin by the desk. A paper shredder stood over in the corner. Chances were, Stephen would never know this particular page was missing, he may think it hadn’t printed, or he may think he’d already shredded it. Either way he wouldn’t suspect Melanie of having taken it. She had no reason to.

  But in fact she did. The germ of an idea was turning over in her mind.

  She dashed through to her lover’s bedroom and stashed the sheet of paper in her handbag, and then slipped into a pair of panties and a bra.

  Without missing a beat she joined him in the dining alcove, her smile mischievous, eyes sultry, shapely hips swaying with seductive intent.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  James Reardon arrived in Northern Rocks at 4.30 that afternoon and went straight into a lengthy meeting with Westmeyer and Donnelly. The meeting ran longer than expected so he buzzed Kate and told her to go home, he’d call by her place later. He was staying at the Colonial, the town’s plushest hotel.

  Kate hadn’t been home long when Reardon arrived. She’d always marvelled at how her young boss never lost his composure. After a long, busy day, a flight and an intense meeting, James was as vital as though he was just starting his day. If this quality had a visual side, Kate imagined, it would manifest itself as slivers of electrical current that sparked from his every touch. The man was a live wire.

  Despite being late thirties, Reardon exuded a boyish enthusiasm. An easy-going bachelor, he was passionate about his company, and it was in his wide-eyed love of the cyber world that he retained something of the nerd he claimed once to have been.

  ‘You were right about Westmeyer,’ he said, stretching his arms and legs, then easing down onto her sofa. He placed his hands behind his head as he settled back. ‘He’s a self important man and he needed to see the head of his IT service company –moi -make a personal appearance and get involved.’

  ‘Long meeting. I guess he did most of the talking.’

  ‘You know him well.’

  ‘That’s William.’ Then, on a more serious note: ‘James, there’s some things I need to discuss with you about this virus.’ Earlier she’d agreed with Betty it was too soon to raise her suspicions. However, the discrepancy with the design plans had changed her mind.

  Reardon held up his hand in ‘stop’ motion. ‘We’ll do that tomorrow, Kate. Right now I’m absolutely wasted, couldn’t take in another piece of information.’

  ‘I thought you could go on forever.’

  He grinned. ‘Don’t go pulling that super CEO stuff on me. I’ve been on the go since four this morning.’

  ‘Four?’

  ‘Yes, four. I need sleep. One thing I will tell you, though, is that Westmeyer is, quite rightly, pissed off over this on-going problem. He doesn’t blame us – or you – but if we can’t solve it quickly he’s going to bring in someone else…’

  ‘No one else is going to solve it quicker.’

  ‘Westmeyer accepts that for the moment, but only for the moment.’

  ‘How about Donnelly?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Him. What’s his problem?’

  ‘Nothing. Being negative and antagonistic is just his sweet, natural self.’

  ‘The guy sucks.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ They both laughed.

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll review the case history so far,’ Reardon said, ‘and I’ve already started formulating some new ideas on how we tackle the problem from this point on.’

  ‘How long will you be here?’

  ‘At least a couple of days. Don’t worry, this virus is more complicated than we expected but we’ll beat it.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Good – well, a soft bed at the Colonial beckons.’

  ‘I’ve heard it’s very nice there.’

  ‘I’m so bushed I probably would
n’t notice either way.’ He headed for the door. He was reaching for the doorknob when the buzzer rang. ‘Company?’

  ‘That’ll be Adam,’ Kate said. She released the security lock and Adam came up from outside. Kate introduced him to James. ‘At least stay and have a coffee with me and Adam,’ Kate suggested.

  Reardon winced. ‘No caffeine. I want to sleep, remember? Make it tea.’

  Adam and James made small talk while Kate went into the kitchen.

  Adam had heard a great deal about the A.B.C.S. chief from Kate but he hadn’t really formed a mental image of him. He might have expected a serious looking, bespectacled businessman, conservatively dressed, but that wasn’t the man before him now. James’s dress was smart but casual – open necked sports shirt, designer jeans, polished black boots. He had a strong jaw and prominent white teeth, real pearly whites that gave Adam a fleeting image of the early Bee Gees. He wasn’t handsome in a conventional way: he had an interesting, expressive face that quickly and fluidly matched his enthusiasm on certain subjects. His eyes, though, were intense and dark brown and he had just a trace of fashionable stubble across his chin.

  When Adam enquired how A.B.C.S. was doing commercially, Reardon excitedly explained how the business had been expanding, with clients in South Pacific regions and in the U.S., contracting their specially tailored software packages and soliciting their consulting staff to short term projects. ‘In fact, I first consulted to Westmeyer when he was in Florida. When William moved the operation out here he contracted us to design a whole new computer network. Things were going great until this blasted virus reared its head.’

  In his detective work, Adam came across corporate chiefs from time to time. For the most part he’d found them to be self absorbed, arrogant men. Westmeyer was like that. James Reardon didn’t strike Adam as having those characteristics. He came across more like a vintage cars enthusiast.

  Adam sensed it was this eccentric charm and intelligence that gave Reardon his winning edge in business.