The Delta Chain

by Ian Edward

  We never saw her again.

  None of us ever dare sneak from the house whenever a confinement has been called.

  So what is the real reason for the confinements? The Keepers always tell us our existence is secret. A very important secret. They teach us that sometimes people from the outside world are in the area, snooping about, and that we are protected from the evil of these others. We are warned to be careful, that these people will try to snatch us away to a cruel and vicious place.

  Elizabeth had once overheard a Keepers’ conversation, about police and newspaper reporters wandering around outside. We guessed that was the most likely reason for the times we are kept housebound.

  We often wonder about the outside world and about the other Coms? Are they the same as ours? And what will our futures be like when we finally emerge from the safety of The Com, after The Change has occurred?”

  ‘Goodness me,’ Barbara said. ‘There are others like poor Daniel. It sounds as though he’s been in some sort of…prison – or cult.’

  ‘Yes.’ Costas was pensive as he flicked further back through the pages. A group of children growing up secretly in a guarded place and there were, apparently, more of these places. Was this for real? And who were these people Daniel referred to as Keepers and Carers?

  ‘Daniel’s writing style is mature for his age,’ Barabara observed, ‘and very literate.’

  ‘He’s been well educated,’ Costas said, ‘but if he was so secluded, I wonder what kind of texts he’s been exposed to?’

  ‘Books that were chosen by these Keepers,’ Barabara suggested, ‘probably religious texts, and classics.’

  Once again, in hushed tones, Costas read on:

  “I’ve always believed the reason I jumped into the well, so long ago, was because I was suffering depression. Later, I overheard two of my Carers discussing this. One of them said it wasn’t possible, that young children do not get depressed. I didn’t even know, back then, what depression was. At a later time I looked it up in one of the Com dictionaries.

  “I believe my depression, and that of the other kids, was caused by the harsh disciplines of The Com; by the beatings and by the lock-ups in the underground cellar that we called The Darkness…”

  Kate had dozed off in the recreation room of the Wildlife Preservation offices. She was woken when Jean Farrow came in, prodding her softly. ‘Poor dear, you’re so tired. But there’s something you should come and see.’

  Harold Letterfield’s office had become an ad-hoc operations centre for the tracking of the hunters. Letterfield, Walter, Hank, Trish Watts and two recently arrived Federal police officers were crowded around the Landscan III. All eyes were glued to the screen.

  Kate entered with Jean.

  ‘They’ve reached the coast and they’ve been stopped for a while,’ Walter told her.

  Kate inched forward, examining the co-ordinates where the blip was positioned on the map. Her eyes grew wide with amazement. ‘It can’t be…’

  Collosimo entered Melanie Cail’s empty apartment with ease. When he left, ten minutes later, there were video and audio “bugs” safely in place.

  He expected Melanie might do or say something in the privacy of her home that revealed her as the saboteur. A subsequent arrest, or warning off, would kill three birds, not the proverbial one or two: 1) the media attention would end; 2) Melanie would no longer pose a threat; and 3) Adam Bennett would no longer be needed on special assignment.

  An on-site detective was the last thing any of them needed at any time, let alone right now.

  He returned to the Institute, on tenterhooks, wanting the problem solved.

  ‘I’ve had confirmation Erickson will be here, on schedule, tonight,’ Donnelly informed Westmeyer. ‘If we’re going to help Vender catch this kid then Erickson and his goons are the best men for the job.’

  ‘He’ll need to be more of a phantom than ever on this. Vender’s Keepers and the cops are all out there so the town is going to get crowded.’

  ‘Does Sandy Bingham know about this?’

  ‘No. And I want it kept that way. He’s already going nuts about the drownings and all the damn media coverage over our saboteur.’

  ‘What’s up his ass anyway? How does any of this directly threaten him?’

  ‘He’s on edge about his re-election. Don’t expect anything Bingham says or does to make any blasted sense. He’s always been a loose cannon-’

  ‘But he was also easily manipulated.’

  ‘That’s why we need all of this contained, and quickly, to get Bingham and everything else back to normal. And to get Asquith off our backs.’

  ‘I suppose Asquith knew absolutely everything before we did, as usual?’

  ‘Yes. And he’s on his way, talking re-location.’

  Donnelly was incredulous. ‘Again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fuck him.’

  ‘When Erickson and his team get here,’ Westmeyer said, ‘ make sure they rest up in their quarters, no hitting the booze and letting off steam. I want you and Erickson and Tony in my office at 7 AM sharp.’ The one thing Westmeyer hated about employing Erickson was that the cool headed but vicious hunter reminded him of the Vietnamese general whose men had murdered Mai. The general had been a psychopath. The dark gleam Westmeyer had seen in that man’s eyes, that night, was the same glint he’d seen in Erickson’s eyes. But Erickson had worked previously for the Nexus Group, he was available and he was useful.

  As Donnelly was fond of pointing out, that was the reason – the only reason -they’d hired Erickson. He was the kind of strong-arm that Nexus had employed in the past. And he was already experienced with the covert nature of Nexus projects.

  Donnelly knew more than most about Erickson’s “mysterious past”. The young Joel Erickson had travelled the wildernesses of the world during the 1960’s with his father – a mercenary-for-hire and a big game hunter. Donnelly didn’t know what had become of Erickson’s mother and wondered if Erickson himself even knew. When his father died, the younger Erickson took on many of his assignments. He’d never served in the military, something that particularly stuck in Donnelly’s claw. Donnelly was a Vietnam veteran and proud of it.

  Erickson had expanded his activities into gun and drug running and poaching.

  From time to time, he was contracted by Nexus, which was how he’d become involved with Westmeyer’s project.

  Donnelly loathed Erickson and was secretly pleased that, since the Florida incident, Erickson had been rapidly losing favour with the Nexus heavies. Donnelly suspected this situation with the murdered ranger would prove to the last straw.

  Asquith and his Nexus Group had always known of Erickson’s sadistic enjoyment in hunting humans. Erickson had been warned not to indulge that fetish while involved in Nexus activities. After Florida, Donnelly had hoped Erickson would be dumped.

  But Erickson persuaded everyone it wouldn’t happen again.

  After all that, what kind of arrogant prick was Erickson to have taken the same chance?

  Westmeyer relied on Erickson’s otherwise faultless supply of the crocodiles, and didn’t want to change or delay anything this far into the project.

  If one thing about Westmeyer irritated Donnelly, it was the way in which his boss ran hot and cold in his support of Nexus initiatives. One moment he was in agreement on keeping Erickson around, agreeing with the Nexus overview of things, the next he was damning all of them in private with Donnelly.

  ‘Erickson will find the boy,’ Donnelly said. ‘We’ll have the Melanie Cail issue cleared up before long. And as for this police investigation, William, it won’t go anywhere, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing connecting the Institute with those drowning victims.’

  ‘We have to convince Asquith of that. He needs to give us just another month, maybe less, and we’ll have crossed the threshold. We’ll have made the breakthrough.’

  Costas looked up from the journal. ‘Did I hear Daniel?’

  Barbara ch
ecked on the boy, and then returned to the kitchen. ‘Still asleep, but giving little coughs.’

  ‘Poor lad.’ He resumed reading softly from the journal:

  “When I was older, Elizabeth and I and some of the others sneaked looks at newspapers that the Keepers kept hidden. Knowing where the forbidden papers were kept, we would creep with torches in the middle of the night to peek at them. We were at once sickened by the senseless evil of the outside world, but also fascinated.

  What must the lives of other children have been like?

  Some of us began to realise that much of what we’d been taught was a distortion of the truth. I’m writing this down today, because today I’ve been thinking back over my life here at the Com, and in particular about our Carers. Our Carers are the ones to whom we are all the closest. The Keepers are the men, most of them strange, distant males who work about the house and the grounds. They are responsible for watching us closely and delivering punishments for bad behaviour.

  But our Carers are the ladies who get us up at six every morning, oversee our meals and run the classes where we do our schoolwork and hear the teachings of the First Keeper.

  Some of them grew up here, at the Com.

  Our Carers, like the Keepers, are sometimes cruel to us (for our own long term good, they say) and we’ve always been discouraged from becoming too close with any of them.

  I have always got on best, and felt most comfortable, with Carer Beth.

  Today I asked her if she was my mother and whether she loved me.

  She didn’t become angry or violent or (thank God) report me, but she did reprimand me. She warned me not to mention such subjects again. She advised me to read and re-read the words of our First Keeper, that all the answers I sought were in his philosophy. Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps it’s because we stray from those teachings that other emotions deepen inside us, leading to depression, the way it did on the day I jumped into the well.”

  ‘The poor, young soul,’ Barbara said. ‘Costas, what are we going to do? We can’t deal with this alone…’

  He was already reaching for the phone. ‘Adam will be able to help.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

  There was unexpected news for Adam when he returned to the police centre. ‘Superintendent O’Malley’s on conference call in the meeting room,’ the duty officer said.

  Arthur Kirby looked up as Adam entered.

  ‘You’re just in time. Seems there’s news…’

  O’Malley’s voice boomed over the line.

  ‘I have Wal and Megan here with me,’ O’Malley informed them. ‘Adam, I know you’re acquainted with Kate Kovacs, and you’re aware she’s been in the Northern Territory as a result of her brother’s murder.’

  Adam was stunned. ‘Yes. But what has that to do-?’

  ‘Hear me out, Adam. The Feds were called in on that, and they’ve been in contact with me to advise there’s a link between their operation and ours. With Ms. Kovacs assistance, they’ve been satellite tracking the movements of the croc hunters responsible for her brother’s death…Adam, those hunters have been stopped for several hours, in an area close to the rear of the Westmeyer Institute.’

  ‘What…?’ Adam’s mind reeled. There was a brief silence. He and Arthur Kirby exchanged glances.

  ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on at that Institute,’ O’Malley continued, ‘or whether this is connected with the drownings, but we need to step up the investigation. We’ll be in Northern Rocks in the morning. Arthur has organised a vacant house in the suburbs from where we’ll set up an undercover op centre.

  ‘Adam, can you run some surveillance tonight. Take a man with you, but only to observe. We need some intel on just what these croc poachers are up to on the grounds out there. As we speak, a Federal judge is issuing a search warrant.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ Adam said.

  ‘Arthur…’

  ‘I’m listening,’ Kirby responded.

  ‘You have a reasonably close working relationship with the Mayor, Bingham…?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘ Bingham played an active role in pushing through the approval for Westmeyer’s research centre, despite resistance from the town’s conservative elements. He and Westmeyer have had a close relationship since then.’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘We don’t want Bingham getting wind of any of this until we know where it’s going.’

  ‘I’ll make certain we keep a tight lid.’

  ‘Superintendent,’ Adam said, ‘Brian Markham did the autopsy on our Jane Doe here. Being on the spot, I believe he would be useful now that the operation is moving full scale in to the town.’

  ‘Agreed. We’ll get in touch with Markham and arrange for him to be fully briefed at the op centre in the morning. Very well, gentlemen, thank you. Adam – good luck this evening. Take it very low key – and phone through any info that you feel won’t wait.’

  ‘Understood.’

  As O’Malley signed off, Kirby said to Adam: ‘Harrison’s the most senior man on duty tonight, and I think you’ll agree, the best to have with you this evening.’

  ‘Yes. That’s good-’

  ‘I suggest you leave your car, and the police vehicles, here. I’ll organise another, unmarked car in case any particular attention is drawn to your drive through the area.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Kirby noticed the disturbed expression on the young detective’s face. ‘Last thing you expected right now, I expect, this news about the croc hunters.’

  ‘That’s for sure.’

  ‘I had no idea Kate had gone back to the Northern Territory.’

  ‘Neither did I, Arthur, until this morning.’

  ‘Any idea what it means?’

  ‘None, other than it’s no coincidence.’

  The duty officer appeared in the doorway. ‘Adam, I’ve got Costas Yannous on the phone for you. He says it’s very urgent.’

  ‘You want to come with me? Now?’ Kate was incredulous.

  ‘Not me,’ Walter said, ‘your new American friends.’

  Jean Farrow nodded.

  ‘We’re as much a part of this now as you are, Kate,’ Hank said

  Jean entwined her arm around Hank’s. ‘I’ve found that once this man decides to follow through on something he’s like a bad smell you just can’t get rid of.’

  ‘I think you could have phrased it a little more eloquently than that,’ the retired reporter countered with a grin.

  Kate had readily agreed to the offer, from the Feds and from Task Force Origin, to join the operation in Northern Rocks, as a consultant on the computer tracking.

  The two Federal agents were catching a commercial flight to Queensland the following afternoon. But Kate couldn’t wait. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep; she wanted to go back straight away; and she was bursting to see Adam. She’d organised a local Settler’s Gorge charter pilot to take her. They were flying out within the hour.

  ‘Well then, provided you can fit on board, I guess we’re going to Northern Rocks,’ she said to Hank and Jean.

  Walter ambled toward her, took her hands in his. ‘I wish I could be joining you for this-’

  ‘You have a family here, a great big family that needs you. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. You’ve done more than enough, Walter.’

  ‘Take good care of her,’ Walter said with a wink to the other two.

  ‘You can bet on it,’ Jean said.

  Donnelly had driven to an area, under an overhead pass, from which he knew there would be cell phone interference. He tapped in the number for Tony Collosimo.

  Donnelly loved gadgets. The micro recording unit was one he hadn’t used for a while. Over the past few weeks there’d been dozens of Institute conversations, secretly taped by the bugs that Collosimo himself had placed. Donnelly himself was on some of these.

  He’d easily edited a word from here, a phrase from there…together with a few smudged or drop out lines, to create the
necessary message. Played over the mobile phone with the crackling, hissing interference it would sound perfectly natural. It was a safer way of handling the message than chancing it as a “live” call.

  Tony Collosimo answered. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Jackson here, Tony. We’ve got…’ crackle, hissss… ‘what we need on Melanie Cail…’ The recorded voice dropped away here, replaced briefly by a loud burst of static, then suddenly, the voice drifting back, ‘…her apartment now.’ Hissss. … ‘now. Hurry.’

  ‘Jackson?’

  Donnelly allowed the static to take over once again, as he pressed stop on the device.

  As always, he’d planned everything down to the last detail, even to the point of personally enacting some of the moves. He knew it would take the security man twenty minutes to drive from his apartment on the southern side of town to Melanie Cail's apartment.

  Fifteen minutes earlier, Donnelly had slipped easily into Melanie Cail’s apartment through the unlocked door. She’d been in the kitchen, preparing a meal, expecting Stephen Hunter to visit for dinner and sex. Donnelly approached from behind, his weapon drawn. Melanie had sensed a presence and turned.

  She had only a moment to see Donnelly’s face before he fired the pistol at point blank range, the silencer eating up the sound.

  Adam couldn’t mistake the distress in Costas’ voice. He decided to drop by briefly at Barbara Cail’s home while on his way to his recon of the Institute.

  John Harrison waited in the unmarked car as Adam went inside.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Costas said as they went through to the living room. Costas had briefly sketched in the details to Adam on the phone.

  Barbara and Joey sat at the table with a yawning, recently woken Daniel.

  ‘I’m not able to stay long right now,’ Adam said. ‘But I will be back in the morning and, Daniel, you’re quite safe here so you can relax and take it easy.’