“Professor, the Zinnia’s a death trap! If you read my interim reports…”
“I have read them.” Lewis sat back against his folded coat and sighed. “Look, Anna, you’re good at your job. You’re even a bit of a genius in your own way. You do very valuable work, but you are in danger of being discredited here and, through that, discrediting the entire Institute.”
She frowned across the table at him. “Discrediting….how?” she demanded.
“Anna, word is out. Your crusade is looking like a personal vendetta.”
“Bloody right it’s personal. People die when they shouldn’t!”
“Your parents and your brothers among them.”
Brought up short, Anna stared at him. “That was fifteen years ago. At the time, Zeiteks were no more dangerous than most other cars on the road. Now they are.”
“Statistics don’t say so.”
“But they can,” Anna said cynically. “You can prove anything you like with statistics. Our tests are conclusive. And Professor, I am not the only member of this project team.”
“You’re the project leader. In public perception, the buck stops with you.” He glanced at his watch and stood. “I have an appointment at the Parliament. Look, I only came in to drop you a hint. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be here with Grenville and one of his technical chiefs and the Road Safety Minister from Scottish Executive. All I’m asking of you is that you bear in mind what I’ve said about perception and funding, listen to what the Zeitek people have to say and come to some arrangement with them.”
Anna stood with him. “Arrangement?”
“Try and make the cars safe without costing the company an arm and a leg,” said Lewis.
***
Although Anna trusted her team to undertake the crash tests without her, she generally preferred to be there. They were a big part of most of the research and advice that the Institute produced, and as Professor Lewis had pointed out, the buck stopped with her. However, fuming from her brief meeting with him, she threw herself immediately into other work until she calmed down. Burying herself in complicated calculations for a manufacturer’s enquiry, she ended up leaving herself short of time.
Hurrying to her office door, she knew she’d have to run to get into the crash room before they locked the doors. Infuriatingly, she’d only just stepped outside when her phone rang. She almost ignored it, but then, hoping it was Lewis returned from his Parliament meeting with a more sensible attitude, she dashed back in to answer it.
“Anna Baird speaking.”
“Helen Scott speaking, too.”
Anna relaxed, even smiled into the phone. “Helen, can I call you back? I’m running late for a test.”
“It’s okay, I won’t take long. I just wanted to ask you a silly question.”
“Hurry up then!”
“Yes ma’am! Are you, by any chance, acquainted with anyone called Lopez?”
“Lopez? No, I don’t think so, why?”
“You know you went to America last year for that conference?”
“I went the year before, too.”
“So you did. New York, wasn’t it?”
“The second one was…”
“Do you keep in touch with anyone over there?”
“A few. Working in the same line, it’s useful.”
“Closely in touch?”
“Discussing work by email? We’re like that,” said Anna dryly, crossing her fingers beside the receiver and knowing Helen would understand exactly what she was doing.
“All right, all right, smart-arse.” Helen began to sound uncharacteristically apologetic now. “What I really want to know is…I don’t suppose you got…romantically involved with anyone while you were over there?”
Anna stared at the receiver. “My love life is a barren waste. Has been for some years. As you well know.” Even as she spoke, the image of Joe rose up before her, and a strange, half-familiar ache began to gnaw at her insides. A loss for what might have been, because despite the weirdness of the situation, there had been a connection there, stronger than she’d felt with anyone for years. Ever. His past didn’t matter to her. There was just something in him that had spoken to her. Even before he’d kissed her, and that had been explosive. And although she wasn’t used to it, she believed—yes, she really believed—that he’d felt it, too. With her.
“Anna, are you still there?”
She pulled herself together. “Yes and I shouldn’t be. Listen, Helen…” The urge to talk to someone about Joe, about last night’s strange experience, was suddenly very strong. Lesley was too close to work and already thought her half-insane. Helen’s down-to-earth understanding was just what she needed. “Isn’t this your night off? Do you want come round for some dinner? I’ll get in a bottle…”
“I’d love to, but I can’t,” Helen said with a hint of genuine regret behind her excitement. “I’ve got a hot date.”
“Yes?” Anna was intrigued. Not that Helen had been exactly celibate since her divorce, but she rarely bothered to mention her encounters to Anna, except for the funny stories that came with them. “Who is he?”
“Police, would you believe? And he has to be ten years younger than me.”
Anna grinned. “Go for it, my dear. Have fun—I’ve really got to go!”
Dropping the phone into its cradle, she rushed out through the empty outer office, along the corridor and downstairs to the crash room. The door was already shut.
“Damn it,” she muttered, pressing the intercom. “It’s me!”
Lesley’s voice came back at once, half-distracted. “Sorry, Anna, we’ve just hit the button. Hold a second…”
Anna stood back and waited. Irrelevantly, she realized Helen had never said why she was asking her questions about America. Well, she’d call her back tomorrow. Get the dirt on her hot date while she was at it.
From the crash room came the familiar sounds and sensations of impact. They were different from the real thing, and she’d heard them a lot since she’d witnessed her family’s accident, yet it still twisted her gut every time. And now she remembered Joe who, unless she’d imagined him or he was part of some elaborate, inexplicable hoax, had suffered it, too. Twice. Once in the street, and again in here. Pity and guilt swept though her like a wave.
Sorry, Joe, I’m so sorry…
She wished she had imagined him. His pain was unthinkable, unbearable…
The locking mechanism on the steel door clicked. Almost at the same time, Lesley spoke through the intercom. “All right, you’re safe.”
Anna pulled open the door and went in. The impact site was closer to her than to the control room, so she was ahead of the others who were already making their way there, armed with clipboards, cameras and scanners.
Among the corrugated mess of the “car”, she could see that the dummy was totally trapped. She just hoped it wasn’t too badly damaged. Clearly there was something wrong with its head because it looked black, like…like black hair.
Oh Jesus Christ, no!
She began to run.
Chapter Four
Every step confirmed it. His skin was not the grey of the dummy, it was warm nut-brown. And the dummy, however realistic, simply did not bleed. Joe bled, and he was bleeding now, from the mouth, from his stomach and God knew what she couldn’t see under the wreckage.
Worse, when she finally got there, his eyes were open, reflecting the sort of pain she could only imagine.
“Oh God, Joe, forgive me, I thought you’d gone, I thought…”
His lips moved, very faintly, as if he was trying to smile. Except that Joe didn’t smile at any time she could recall and behind the agony of his eyes was a new urgent desperation. Understanding, she dragged herself closer to him.
“Got to…talk…you,” he got out. “Need…time. Come back…”
“Anna, what are you doing?” Lesley demanded behind her.
“Oh God, Lesley, look at him!” The words broke from her in instinctive, helpless pity bef
ore she even wondered what her colleagues would make of this. Would they understand that calling an ambulance wouldn’t help?
“Well, it’s not the end of the world,” Lesley said philosophically. “Or even the end of him. The techies can stick him back together. Unless he’s completely mangled under there. Let’s hope not… Anna? Are you crying?”
Anna dashed her hand across her face, staring from Lesley to Joe and back again. “Look at him, Lesley! Do we have any morphine, or anything?”
She began to push past Lesley and an open-mouthed Bill who was staring at her and repeating, “Morphine?” in a startled tone of voice. “Who for?”
“For him!” She glanced back at Joe, whose eyes were closed now. She hoped he had lost consciousness, prayed he had some relief from the suffering, that his body would heal as it did before—or that he would finally die…
Both her colleagues glanced at Joe, then to each other and back to her. Anna went cold. Even before Bill spoke, she understood. He said, “Dummies don’t need morphine. I think we do.”
She whispered, “You can’t see him, can you?”
Lesley’s arm came around her shoulders. “Anna, it’s just a dummy. Your own brilliantly designed dummy. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
For a moment, she resisted, staring at Joe’s broken body. Just a dummy. Then why could she see Joe? What sort of sick mind could imagine something like this?
Is this it then? I’m finally over-the-edge completely bats?
She glanced up at Lesley’s concerned face and was left in little doubt. Yielding, she began to walk away with the other woman, yet she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at Joe. Still Joe…
“Please be careful moving the dummy,” she said to the two technicians who passed them. “Very careful…”
“We know, Dr. Baird,” one sighed, as he’d heard the same thing before many times. As he probably had, from Lesley and Bill as well as herself. That particular dummy was an expensive piece of kit and very valuable to their work.
When she reached her own office, she slumped into her chair, trying to figure things out. She was shaking. A moment later, Lesley followed her in with two cups of coffee and dragged another chair over to sit down beside her.
“Do you want the coffee? Or do you think a dram might be better?”
“God no, I’m confused enough.” Taking off her glasses, she ran a hand over her face and pinched her nose. Was that the problem? She’d drunk two whiskies in the store-room. Had she fallen asleep then and dreamed what happened next? But what the hell explained what she saw before? Her conversation with Joe that led up to drinking the whisky?
He hadn’t drunk any. He hadn’t been wearing the overalls when she woke up. She must have imagined the whole thing…was still imagining it. Joe’s pitifully damaged, injured body…
“Exactly how mad am I?”
“Anna, you’re not mad,” Lesley said gently. “For the most part, your mind is clear as a bell. What exactly did you im—see down there? Your dad? One of your brothers?”
Anna shook her head. “No. A—a stranger. And this was real. Not like I was reliving the old crash. Like he—the stranger—was actually in there. Instead of the dummy.” Putting the specs back on, she glanced at Lesley. “I need help, don’t I?”
Lesley was silent for a moment, then: “I think maybe you do. I think you’re too close to your work right now. It’s what makes you so bloody good at it, but it seems to be taking a toll on your health. Take some time off, Anna. See a doctor.”
Anna gave a twisted smile. “You mean a shrink.”
“Whatever. They’re doctors, too, aren’t they?” She stood. “I’d better go back, make sure Bill’s not gossiping with the techies. I don’t think he will—he’s a good bloke—but to most people the boss is fair game.”
Anna looked up at her. “Thanks for not being most people, Lesley.”
“Honey, we go way back. We’re friends.”
“Thanks.” She wanted to cry again. She and Lesley had never even been out for a drink, just worked together side by side in trust for five years. It counted for something. It counted for a lot.
At the door, Lesley paused. “Ah. Maybe you should postpone this holiday till after tomorrow? Between you and me, I couldn’t handle the Zeitek people, and I really wouldn’t like to leave it in Lewis’s hands.”
“God, no, neither would I,” Anna said fervently. “Don’t worry.”
***
It was late afternoon when Mason Grenville finally closed the door of his hotel room. He completed the action with more than a hint of relief, for he had been travelling in constant company for some time. A representative from the British side of operations had met him at Prestwick Airport with some useful info on the way things worked in this country regarding safety issues, the Scottish Parliament and Westminster. And the influence of the Institute of Crash Research. Interesting and helpful as it was, Grenville had more urgent concerns.
Ignoring his suitcase, he opened the laptop bag on his bed and took out the computer, switching it on even before he moved it to the desk under the window.
For twelve hours he’d been waiting for a text message or an email to tell him it was done, that the girl was dead. He would then have transferred the money currently sitting in his most discreet account. What he didn’t want was to miss the message that the deed was done, and not transfer the money quickly enough. He really didn’t want to piss off the Assassin. Especially as he was probably still in this country. And while Grenville couldn’t recognize him, he had no great confidence that the same was true the other way around. The Assassin knew who he was.
The laptop connected quickly to the Internet, and Grenville went immediately to the private email account he’d set up specially for such nefarious circumstances. No new mail.
Damn. He had the twisting feeling in his gut that something had gone wrong. She was meant to have been dead before he got into the country. What was the hold up? Surely if he’d killed her already, he wouldn’t be waiting thirty days to present his bill!
On impulse, he grabbed the phone out of his jacket pocket and found James Lewis’s number. He answered in person, sounding as if he was in a bar or some other social gathering.
“Professor? Mason Grenville here. Just letting you know I’ve arrived in Edinburgh.”
“Wonderful news!” said Lewis enthusiastically.
“Look forward to meeting you all tomorrow at the Institute. You and Dr. Baird especially.”
Now was the time he would say if anything had happened to the woman. Say it…
“You’re very kind,” said Lewis. “We look forward to it, too.”
Shit. “Excellent. See you tomorrow, then.”
Wretched bloody woman! Now he’d have to let her air her annoying quibbles in front of their bloody ministers. She was supposed to be dead so they would cancel the meeting and her work would get lost on Lewis’s desk until Grenville could make him tone it down. It the meantime the Zinnia would be produced and sell like it deserved….
He stared from the phone to the computer, waiting for one of them to do something. “Kill her, you bastard!”
***
Work had got Anna through a lot of crises in her life, from the death of her family to disastrous or nonexistent relationships. It was natural to seek it out after the crash incident, to lose the emotional turmoil of fear and shame in the logic of figures and scientific knowledge.
Yet the image of Joe kept intruding—Joe in the crash, Joe as he’d been last night, fierce and passionate with knowing lips and hands. Well, no wonder they’d known what to do! Her own mind had been controlling them.
Was she really so lonely, so desperate for love, for a lover, that her mind had conjured up so weird a story? Around her perfect man. Although she’d never been drawn to the bad boy type before, Joe had certainly had that air about him—the sort of barely controlled violence that should have been a complete turn-off.
The human brain was a curio
us thing. It often fantasized about things that it wouldn’t accept in reality. Especially sexually. Was that all she’d done? Was she now destroying her reputation, her career, through a stupid sexual fantasy? One moreover that had never really got off the ground?
Get a grip, Anna, you have responsibilities here. To the team as well as to the public. You can’t go to pieces now…
And oddly, she didn’t feel in pieces. She felt worried, anxious, confused about where this had all come from. And the haunting image of Joe’s terrible fate tore her apart. But she didn’t feel confused as such. It didn’t touch any other aspect of her thought processes.
Maybe that’s how mentally ill people think. They believe they’re functioning normally when the rest of the world can see quite clearly that they’re not.
Or…maybe I really do see Joe and for some reason no one else can. Like a ghost that only appears to certain people.
That made more sense. If Joe was actually dead, his spirit could be haunting the dummy for some reason—because of his past crimes, whatever they were, his guilt…
But Anna wasn’t a great believer in ghosts and spirits. God knew she had spent enough time in the past talking to her dead family. If they’d been hanging around they would surely have answered her back. And yet even scientists, even doctors like Helen, said there were more things in heaven and earth…
At five o’clock, Lesley stuck her head ’round the door. “This doesn’t look like you taking it easy,” she observed.
Anna gave a slightly twisted smile. “I’ll start tomorrow,” she promised. “I’m just making sure I’ve got everything to hand for this Zeitek meeting. Have the techs set up the crash demo for tomorrow?”
“Yep. Four dummies and a side-on impact. Your dummy’s been patched up, by the way. It’s a bit bashed in places, but it’s basically sound.”
In spite of herself, Anna’s stomach tightened unbearably. Forcing herself to speak calmly, she said, “They haven’t set it up in the crash have they?”
Killing Joe Page 4
