by Ian Edward
She smiled wickedly to herself. It was one of those ideas that struck on the spur of the moment. The delicious thing was that she’d never be suspected – no one knew she’d been seeing Stephen and what possible motive could she have anyway? News of the security leak would appear first in the major city newspapers. It was only then she would enter the fray, simply because she worked locally and was on the spot to follow up.
Now, all she needed was to get Eddie to run her angle on the Jane Doe drowning and she’d be riding the crest of two major and very different breaking stories. With the passage of the past few days behind them, Eddie had already agreed to a follow up article.
She was feeling incredibly horny as she drove back to Northern Rocks at high speed. She called ahead on the cell phone and spoke to Stephen. He confirmed he wasn’t planning to work late at the lab that night. It’s all going my way today, Melanie thought.
When Hunter arrived home at 6.45 that evening Melanie was already waiting in his apartment, stripped down to lacy black underwear and ready to pounce like a cat injected with speed. ‘You don’t want to eat just yet, do you?’ she whispered in his ear, the tip of her tongue touching the side of his neck.
Hunter grinned. ‘What are you on?’
‘Adrenaline.’ Her voice was a purr.
‘You must’ve had a good day.’
‘Great day.’ She undid the buttons on his shirt, sliding it off as their bodies crushed together, her mouth covering his. They crashed down onto the sofa, Hunter slowly positioning his body over hers. Then, as his excitement soared to fever pitch he ripped her panties away from her crotch with a strength he hadn’t possessed just minutes before.
Westmeyer’s home was twenty minutes drive away from the Institute, in an exclusive section at the far northern end of the town. His spacious, two-storey house, with its Mediterranean design, was on a shelf of land that overlooked the ocean. A walkway led down to a private beach with a jetty and the boathouse that stored his small cabin cruiser.
Before Meredith Seals was due to fly home, Westmeyer had arranged for his secretary to call and invite the investment banker to a small dinner party at Westmeyer’s home. She’d agreed and, according to the secretary, sounded flattered – as Westmeyer knew she would.
She’d arrived by taxi at Westmeyer’s home, dressed in a smart, conservative black dinner dress, her make-up a little too heavy. Westmeyer invited her in to the front sitting room and fixed her a cocktail. Then he apologised: the husband and wife neighbours whom he’d also invited to the dinner party had cancelled at the last moment, a problem with one of their children or some such thing. ‘So I’m afraid it’s just you and me and that’s hardly a dinner party…’
‘I understand. It’s quite all right,’ Meredith smiled, trying hard to mask her disappointment.
Westmeyer swirled the liquid in his glass, then took a sip. ‘It’s a bit of a quirk of mine, I tend to get a little lonely, just me in this great big house with a part-time housekeeper and a part-time chef. I often throw these sudden dinners, phoning people up on the spur of the moment. Usually they happen okay, sometimes they don’t.’
‘It’s really quite okay. Surely, though, you don’t get too lonely…?’
‘I know what you’re thinking – doesn’t quite fit. Busy man, running a research centre, lots of overseas trips, lots of acquaintances. But I was never the one to settle down, never married, devoted to science I suppose and…silly as it sounds, I can get quite lonely in the quiet times. And one thing that really relaxes me is straightforward conversations over dinner…’
‘I think it relaxes most of us.’
‘Look, I’ve dragged you out, you’re all dressed up. I’ve sent the chef home, so perhaps I could take you out for a meal. There are some lovely a la carte restaurants in the town.’
‘That would be fine.’
‘What would you like to eat?’
Meredith shrugged. ‘Well…’
‘Italian? There’s a terrific Italian place, they serve the best Veal Florentina on the coast…’
‘Sounds good.’
There had never been any other invitees to Westmeyer’s “dinner”; there was no husband and wife next door – it was simply typical of the many ploys he used, to engineer situations the way he wanted them. He was in the mood for some female company and the reasonably attractive, fortyish banker was just what the mood required.
William had always been one for romancing the ladies. With his lifelong dedication to his Institute and his role as a senior statesman in the biogenetic community, it had suited him to remain single. He enjoyed the freedom and excitement of brief affairs without the greater emotional depth of long-term relationships.
And he had felt that way, without regret, since the loss of the one woman he had truly loved.
The dinner went well. Westmeyer enjoyed the process of coaxing the somewhat wooden Meredith to relax further, to smile, to open up about herself. By the time they left the restaurant Westmeyer was touching her briefly and gently from time to time, on the arm, the shoulder, the hand. He read the tentative signals in her eyes – she had a melancholy side and she was flattered by the attention. The added bonus, to Westmeyer, was in influencing her to agree to the bank’s investment.
He drove her to her hotel room and suggested she stay in town for a few more days. ‘I owe myself a little time off,’ he said, ‘but I need to be in the Institute in the morning. I was thinking of taking my cruiser out tomorrow afternoon.’
The weather turned too blustery the following afternoon and Westmeyer had to turn back to shore earlier than expected. ‘Not to worry. We’ll do it again tomorrow.’
They dined together again that night.
‘You’re obviously an ambitious and driven man,’ Meredith said, ‘but I sense that sometimes, like tonight, there’s another side to you that sneaks out for a breather. You mentioned you get a little lonely…but there’s more to it than that. Something worries you.’
Light, romantic music played in the background, matching the ambience of the restaurant. Westmeyer smiled at his date’s sensitivity. He hadn’t expected that, but he didn’t mind it at all.
There were times when he needed to open up to someone – preferably a woman, and preferably one he wouldn’t be romancing again.
‘You’re very observant. Every now and then – not too often I might add – the scared little boy inside pokes his head out for a look at what his future self became.’
‘Well put. I’m sure we all have that child inside, stepping out from the distant past for just a moment.’
‘ I was a restless, frustrated child, a science prodigy sent to a private, specialist school. My father tried to hide it but I could sense it was a financial struggle for he and my mother. My Dad was the original Mr. Nice Guy. Always trying to do the right thing by others, always putting himself last.’
‘A good man.’
‘Yes, but he was a very frustrated man who never achieved any of the things he really wanted in life. He was also a scientist, with his own hunger for research and development. He was an intelligent, organised, meticulous man, worked as a laboratory manager for a pharmaceutical products firm. He worked for them for thirty years, but never advanced beyond the middle management lab work because of that very reason – he was Mr. Nice Guy. Never pushed, never trod on toes. Never took any chances because he wanted to ensure he provided for my education. Eventually he was forced into retirement and he dropped from a heart attack a week later, the same week I started Uni.’
‘And you never wanted to end up like that. And you didn’t want to let him down.’
‘I excelled at Uni and when US Defence offered support for special projects in return for serving with them in various capacities, I jumped at the chance.’
‘You’ve achieved a hell of a lot, William, but you’re not satisfied, are you?’
‘I’ve achieved very little.’
‘I think you’re scared that the Mr. Nice Guy in you is fighting to g
et out.’
‘I’m making certain he stays locked inside,’ William revealed. ‘He’s no help out here in the real world, no help when you’re reaching out to accomplish a major scientific breakthrough.’
‘You know, of course, that I read up on you before I came to town.’
‘Of course.’
‘And I see you served in Vietnam. You don’t speak much of that.’
‘Another era, another country, but it might just as well have been another planet.’
‘I’ve known some men who served there. One of them said he felt like an alien in those jungles.’
‘You didn’t just feel like an alien, you became one. Sanity and insanity merged over there so that you couldn’t tell one from the other. For a while you became someone completely different.’
‘What happened over there?’
‘I met some very strange and interesting people,’ Westmeyer said.
This time he took Meredith back to his house and to his full expectations she’d responded hungrily to his advances.
Since his arrival in Australia, Westmeyer had developed a genuine love of the Queensland coastline, beautiful everywhere, breathtaking in parts. He was making the most of their second day out on the cruiser. Meredith had to fly out the next morning, and he would then need to devote his full energy once more to the Institute.
It was late afternoon, and a breath of balmy breeze wafted through his bedroom window. He’d showered in his ensuite, shaved, dressed and had stopped for a brief, reflective moment. On the dresser, against the room’s west wall, stood the framed photograph of Hoang Thi Mai. How many private moments had there been, gazing at her picture, at the soft, soulful eyes, her warm, unaffected smile, the gentle crease that crossed the tops of her cheeks? The photo was the one and only item to survive, in his possession, during the long trek that had seen him exit a war-torn Saigon decades before.
He heard the front door buzzer and went down to the ground floor to open it. An unsmiling, agitated Sandy Bingham walked in, not waiting for a welcome. ‘We need to talk.’
‘This isn’t a good time.’
Bingham glared at Westmeyer. ‘You haven’t been returning my calls-’
‘I’ve been out of the office and the house. Needed to recharge the batteries.’
‘Don’t cut me out, William. It’s because of my support you were able to build your centre here-’
‘Calm down. Let me fix you a drink. If we must talk keep your voice down and let’s make it brief.’ Westmeyer nodded toward the stairs. ‘I’m not alone.’
‘Where…?’
‘It’s all right. Upstairs in the main shower.’ They moved further into the entertaining area. Westmeyer pulled the sliding door across, then went to the bar and poured two glasses of scotch.
‘You assured me, there was absolutely no chance of negative publicity affecting the town.’
‘There won’t be.’
‘This blasted floater, no ID, now the police are aware the situation is similar to the one up in Morrissey. Now the media are jumping on the bandwagon.’
‘It’s unfortunate, I admit. Wasn’t meant to happen.’
‘Unfortunate? What if they find others…?’
‘That won’t happen,’ Westmeyer assured him.
‘For Chrissakes, William, Kirby wants to bring in senior investigators from the city…’
‘He’s not homicide, surely he doesn’t have that authority-’
‘He can make the request.’
‘Can’t you make sure the request is declined?’
‘I’m working on it, but that’s three now, with the one down in New South-’
‘Nothing further will come of it,’ Westmeyer repeated the point, disguising his own sense of unease. ‘There’s no trail to follow. Just keep me filled in on what’s happening with the police investigation, and the media.’
Bingham filled him in while they finished their drinks.
After seeing the mayor to the door, Westmeyer fixed himself another scotch and poured a glass of chardonnay for Meredith. He did not suspect she had stepped from the shower just as the doorbell buzzed.
Her curiosity piqued, wondering whether Westmeyer had other women friends, Meredith had draped a towel around herself and tiptoed to the top of the stairs. When Westmeyer had pulled the sliding door across, she’d moved half way down the stairs, the voices from the living room muffled but still audible.
She didn’t know who the other man was but she’d listened, confused and concerned, to every word they’d said.
She’d liked William Westmeyer but now she feared her antenna was all wrong.
There was a much darker side to him. This was a driven man obsessed with achieving some perceived greatness, this was a man who was the complete opposite to the father he’d described.
She felt a wave of disgust as she moved stealthily back up the stairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
It was the second day of his journey and he had no idea where he was headed or what his destination should be. He only knew he couldn’t bear to be parted from the girl he loved.
Daniel knew he had to find her.
Whatever the future now held, in a world so strange to them, he knew they had to face it together.
He’d been walking for three hours solid that morning. He stopped now and knelt beside the shallow creek. He scooped up handfuls of fresh water and ran it through his hair and over his face. He popped open the bottle of warm spring water and took several long swigs.
Daniel had set off the previous morning, before dawn, with just a backpack carrying basic change of clothes, and food and drink for a few days. He hadn’t taken any of the main roads that led to the large towns. He’d done the opposite to what anyone might have expected. He’d gone into the deep woods that led up and over the mountain range to even more desolate country.
The Keepers wouldn’t expect that.
Now a plan began to take shape in his mind. He would travel deep into the north-east pocket of the ranges, then veer further north. Eventually he’d come out on the fringes of the wilderness that straddled the New South Wales and Queensland border. His pocket compass would help guide him. From there, traversing the back roads, he would head across country and approach the city of Brisbane from the west.
He decided he’d be less conspicuous in the nearest big city, one face among millions. He wondered what that would be like, feeling curiosity and fear in the same instant. Then he could begin the next stage, the stage when he began his search.
For Elizabeth.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
On the morning after the funeral Kate had seen Adam off from the airport. She’d insisted he return to Northern Rocks and his work there. Her family now needed time alone. Kate wanted to stay on, for a short while, with her parents.
She returned to her parents’ house, now a place of subdued grief. Her mother, who’d been sedated for most of the past few days, was in the upstairs bedroom. Her father was haunting the corridors of the elegant, older-style house, looking for ways to keep occupied. Still forcing back tears. Quietly letting them flow at least once a day.
Kate did not know how she would be able to return to her work, to allow the natural rhythms of everyday life sweep her up once more. She tried to turn her mind to the thoughts that occupied her before that fateful phone call: the virus at the Institute, Rhonda’s diary, the design discrepancy – but she couldn’t focus on any of them. She was no longer certain she cared about any of it.
Instead, the germ of another idea invaded her thoughts and, as the hours passed, it grew and grew until she picked up the phone and called James Reardon.
Reardon was pleased to hear from her. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, Kate, anything at all, you just ask. Okay? And take as much time as you need. I’ll cover things here at the Institute one way or another.’ Reardon was seated before a bank of PC screens, in a room specially designated for him.
‘Actually, James, I feel strange asking
this,’ Kate said, ‘but there is something you could do for me.’
‘Name it.’
‘These bastards who killed Greg, they’re the same hunters that rangers had vague reports about previously. That’s what Greg was investigating-’
‘I know you like to get things done, Kate,’ Reardon sensed the kind of request to come, ‘but you can’t do the police’s job for them.’
‘No, but I could help them, introduce them to new systems for locating these killers.’
‘The police already have sophisticated systems of their own. Adam will tell you that.’
‘Yes, but I’m referring to newly developing stuff in experimental stages. And while outer regions up in the Territory have access to national resources, they may not have the knowledge or application skills to use them in a situation like this one.’ Kate was speaking in rapid fire, her voice charged with anxiety.
‘Okay. Calm down. And take three deep breaths for me, okay?’
‘All right.’ Kate followed his instruction.
‘Right. Now tell me what you have in mind.’
‘I want to get hold of something from that colleague of yours, the military contractor whose company develops hardware systems for the military.’
‘You’re talking about Rensens.’
‘Yes.’
‘Kate, anything to do with defence is strictly out of bounds-’
‘I know, I know. But this is one of their commercial applications. It’s intended for police, for farmers, for the security industry, for the insurance sector. The Landscan III satellite tracker. The last thing I read they’d been successfully running trials on prototypes.’
