by Alex Palmer
‘Is this your only entrance?’ Harrigan asked.
‘This is the main external entrance. There’s a delivery dock to the north where the smokestacks are. There’s a third entry via the roof near Elena’s office, which is on the other side of building. That’s locked with a door built to withstand an atomic blast, I think.’
‘I thought you said no firearms. Those guards were armed,’ Harrigan said.
‘They’re just there to mind the gate. Their access is limited to that area and they can’t bring those weapons into the building proper. You should know that my access throughout this building is limited as well. I can’t take you into any of the labs, for example. I’d only have access to a lab on specific orders from Elena.’
‘Where can I go on my pass?’
‘Wherever Elena thinks you ought to be able to go.’
‘She has all the keys, does she?’ he asked.
‘All the keys, the combinations, passwords and overrides. Who else?’
The lift arrived and they stepped inside. The building had three levels: Basement, First, Second. Sam pressed Second. Quickly they were there. The lift opened.
‘Welcome to Elena’s kingdom,’ Sam said.
They stepped out onto a mezzanine above an atrium that soared to the height of the building. A glass wall stretched from floor to roof in front of them. A broad set of stairs led from the mezzanine to a paved area below, where doors in the glass wall opened onto a garden in the centre of the building. It was planted with well-grown tree ferns, flowering shrubbery and rich green vines. It had a cool look. A pathway led from the glass doors to the centre where Harrigan could see an ornamental pool set round with tables and chairs. The garden was covered by a glass roof, turning the whole space into a climate-controlled greenhouse.
‘Very impressive,’ he said.
‘It is, isn’t it? It’s the organisation summed up for you. They make it very hard for you to get in, but once you’re here, they make you very comfy. This corporation consumes what it needs to operate. It’s how it works. Like some blind organism. On the basis of need, nothing else.’
Harrigan had some difficulty identifying in Sam’s tone of voice what he would have called loyalty either to Elena or to her corporation. For a personal security officer, as she called herself, she seemed very free, almost unguarded, in the way she spoke about her boss. Throughout there had been an edge in her voice, almost of contempt. In her last statement, it was something deeper, more negative. By her own admission Sam was well paid. Also by her own admission, money would not buy her loyalty. Something had to make her give it of her own accord and it could be withdrawn at will. Harrigan’s observation was that in this case she hadn’t given it. So why was she here? If loyalty wasn’t her first object, where did that leave her offer of a bribe? If her motives were questionable, why be unguarded like this? Why not hide herself? All he could conclude was that she didn’t care what she did. She followed orders and collected her money because she had nothing else to do.
People passed them while they stood there. Voices echoed in the high spaces of the atrium. There was constant traffic and a sense of activity about the place. Sam leaned forward on the railing.
‘The building is built on two axes, one from north to south, the other east to west, with an apex at each point of the compass,’ she said. ‘On each storey there are four main corridors that run from apex to apex. There are four sectors, each of which can be locked down independently of the other three. There are also independent backup systems in place for each sector. The air conditioning is a good example. It services the whole building but each individual sector has its own backup system in case of an emergency. Individual laboratories can also be sealed off, if need be. Below is the public area. You can meet for lunch, there’s a gym, that sort of thing. But otherwise it’s possible to avoid almost anyone in this building if you want to. It’s organised so people’s paths don’t have to cross.’
‘How many people work here?’
‘A lot. But they’re not actually employed by Life Patent Strategies. Elena will probably tell you about that. This way. I’ll take you on the tour.’
They walked along the echoing corridor towards the northern end of the building. Harrigan watched his escort. She walked with swift, flowing steps, her spine straight.
‘Have you been in this business all your working life?’ he asked.
‘I have. I like it.’
‘You strike me as very professional.’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘And very focused.’
‘How did you get into the business?’
There was a faint pause.
‘If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. When I was at uni there was a fad going on—study martial arts; know how to protect yourself. Most people got bored and dropped out after a while. Not me. I decided I was going to do it properly. I liked being strong and quick. I liked the control. I got into security work from there. I like the fact that I can go out there and control a situation. Other people don’t set my parameters for me. I do that myself. I say what happens. Look, if you want to know about me, why don’t you ask Elena for a copy of my résumé?’
‘You’re Australian.’
‘So?’
‘You’ve worked in England for a long time. You can tell by the way you talk.’
‘Top of the class,’ she replied with a touch of irritation.
‘Did you come home to be with your family?’
She laughed sarcastically. ‘No,’ she replied.
‘Do you have one?’
‘No, I came out of a test tube. My mother’s a Petri dish. Have you ever thought about minding your own business?’
‘You dug into my life, Sam. You told me that when you met me up at Pittwater. I can dig into yours.’
‘Go right ahead.’
‘What will I find if I do?’
‘Someone who’s very sure about what they’re doing and what they’re going to achieve. Happy now? Let’s move on.’
They reached a junction at the far end of the corridor that marked the northern apex of the building: a wide area that served as an antechamber. As well as a lift, there was a flight of stairs in front of them leading downwards. To their right was a closed door.
‘What’s in there?’ Harrigan asked.
‘A corridor leading into the second storey of the north-western sector. That door’s always locked. I don’t know anyone who can get in there. Elena’s office is on the floor beneath it. You might have noticed that at each junction there are lockable doors at the end of all the corridors,’ she said. ‘If there was a lockdown, they’d all shut and lock automatically. That would isolate all the sectors and everybody in them.’
‘Why is all this security necessary?’
‘Some of it’s because of fire regulations. Elena will tell you about the rest.’
They went downstairs to another open area, also a junction of corridors. In front of them was a set of double doors, at that moment open onto an entry point staffed with security guards and watched by video cameras. Behind this was the delivery dock, also open. Harrigan saw a delivery van and, behind it, a flash of blue sky.
‘This is the most vulnerable entrance,’ Sam said. ‘On week days, it stays open to the outside world for varying lengths of time. On weekends, it’s usually closed up and unstaffed. But if there were any attempts to break in through here, these internal doors would shut and lock immediately, isolating any intruders.’
‘What about breaking out?’ Harrigan asked.
Sam laughed. ‘No chance. Once you’re in here, you can’t get out without all the right passwords.’
A short corridor immediately behind them continued in a curve towards an unknown destination.
‘What’s down there?’ Harrigan asked.
‘That leads past the door to the main air conditioning unit to the animal house,’ Sam said. ‘We can’t go in there either, it’s quarantined. But I have been in once. That was an experience. It was vil
e, smelt of piss and fear. Everything in there is as good as dead. Their end point is to disappear up the smokestacks as environmentally friendly waste.
‘You know a funny thing about those monkeys in there?’
‘What?’
‘When I saw them, they were completely passive. They didn’t move. They just sat there waiting. They know what’s going to happen to them. So they deal with it by going dead. There’s nothing else they can do.’
‘You wouldn’t be like that, surely?’ he asked.
‘No way. You should always go down fighting whoever you’re up against. But you’ve got to think like that if you’re in this business.’
It was an argument Harrigan had heard often enough in his job: the police were the thin blue line keeping back the forces of darkness. Often, it didn’t matter how you did it.
‘I’ve always seen it more in terms of protecting people,’ he said.
‘Isn’t it the same thing? I bet it’s not for you, is it? You haven’t had your mind changed about that point of view yet. But you must get pretty bleak about your work at times. Who do you protect, really?’
‘As many people as I can.’
‘Bullshit! People like you never protect anyone.’ She spoke with sudden, unhidden and, it seemed, uncontrollable contempt.
‘You want me to tell your boss you just talked to me like that?’
She drew a breath and stepped back. From the expression on her face she knew she’d gone too far. ‘I get carried away sometimes. Sorry.’
It was a brush-off apology. Harrigan debated whether to push it a little more or let it go. On reflection, he had bigger fish to fry just now than resentful bodyguards.
‘Let’s move on,’ he said.
They continued down another corridor. ‘There are no windows here,’ he said.
‘No. There’s no source of external light in this sector except in Elena’s office.’ Sam stopped outside another set of doors.
‘You’re about to meet her. Best behaviour now.’
She led him into a large, well-equipped laboratory. At one of the benches in the centre of the wide white room, a slender woman in a red suit was standing talking to a man with a ruined face. Another taller and more strongly built man stood directly behind her. Numbers of people were busy working throughout the room. There was a hum of activity. When Harrigan walked up with Sam, the woman in red turned to smile at him.
‘Commander Paul Harrigan, Elena,’ Sam said. ‘I’ve just taken him on a tour of the building. We went through the security features like you asked.’ Then she stepped out of the way, quietly withdrawing herself.
‘Commander Harrigan. I’m very pleased to meet you. I’m Dr Elena Calvo.’
They shook hands. Her touch was firm, her skin cool. She appeared younger than her photographs and spoke with a faint accent, attractive to hear. Her face was handsome, her hair cut into a soft, curled style.
‘Pleased to meet you too, Dr Calvo,’ he replied. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m pleased to put a face to the name.’
‘Call me Elena. We prefer informality here, I like people to feel at ease. Let me introduce you to a very good friend of mine and the head of our signature project here at LPS. Everything you see around you in this laboratory is dedicated to burns research, and the success of this work is attributable to its director. Dr Daniel Brinsmead.’
Calling on a career of meeting the atrocious without betraying a thought, Harrigan extended his hand. He didn’t recall seeing a face more badly scarred than Daniel Brinsmead’s. His features were slashed across with broad scarlet and pallid markings. He had no hair or eyebrows, his ears were stubs, and the skin on his neck was as damaged as his face. Sharp blue eyes like chips of shining porcelain looked directly at Harrigan. His right hand grip was strong. His left hand, its fingers reduced to stubs, was encased in a fingerless glove. Under his lab coat he wore a light white suit. Harrigan saw a badge, gold-plated like his own, pinned to Brinsmead’s lapel.
‘How do you do,’ the man said. His voice was strange, damaged, almost a whisper. ‘You see in front of you the motivation for this research. I hope you don’t find it too shocking.’
‘I see a lot in my work, Dr Brinsmead. It’s not a problem.’
‘Good.’
In his mask-like face, his sharp eyes were sizing Harrigan up, much as he might have examined cells through a microscope.
‘I’ve asked Daniel to explain to you what he’s doing here,’ Elena said. ‘It will help you understand why I’ve worked so hard to establish this place.’
‘You’re here, Commander, because of my face and body,’ Brinsmead said. ‘My skin is my project. I’m looking to see if the human body can be regenerated after burns of even greater magnitude than I have.’
‘I wouldn’t have said yours were trivial,’ Harrigan replied.
‘There are people worse off than I am. After my face, it’s mostly the left side of my body and my torso that’s been affected, and I’ve been repaired to some degree by skin grafts. Other people need virtually new skins. There are other effects which aren’t always immediately apparent. Nerve damage, constant pain and, paradoxically, loss of sensitivity as well. Let me take you through what we do in this big room.’
If Harrigan hadn’t had so much on his mind, the details of Brinsmead’s explanation would have fascinated him. One thing he did notice: from the way Brinsmead spoke and the response of the people working for him, he was a driving force here regardless of his injuries. He led them to a computer where he displayed a detailed transparency on the monitor.
‘Let me introduce myself to you again. I’m here in more than one way. This is a piece of my burnt body magnified. It’s been taken from the dermis, the under layer of skin, which doesn’t regenerate after severe burns. In this laboratory my researchers dissect me, even if they do it by biopsy. I’ve set this project up so I don’t have to be here for it to work. They have bits of me to use in my place. They’ve charted my skin, my injuries, my DNA.’
‘You may not be aware, Commander,’ Elena said, ‘that everything Daniel is achieving here is in the public domain. Millions of people stand to benefit from his work. I’m very proud we have it under our aegis.’
Glancing past Brinsmead, Harrigan saw Sam Jonas two steps behind, watching them closely, taking in every word, every nuance. Between her and Elena, he saw Elena’s second bodyguard, a man in his mid-thirties who had not been introduced. Why in a building as secure as this should Elena feel the need for two bodyguards? All of them seemed to be positioned as if they were taking their places for some obscure dance, the outcome of which he could not foresee.
‘You’re interested in investing in LPS, Commander?’ Brinsmead was asking him.
‘I’ve been considering it,’ he replied.
‘I’m sure Elena will give you a very thorough introduction as to what you’re putting your money into. Are you expecting good returns?’
‘I’d call that putting the cart before the horse.’
‘No one invests without a hope of return. You must have thought about it.’
‘I’d consider everything here to be a long-term investment,’ Harrigan replied.
‘This project certainly is,’ Brinsmead said in his whispered voice. ‘I’ve set it up so that anyone properly qualified could take it over if something happened to me. It could even be shifted to a new laboratory if need be.’
‘No one else would have your driving force,’ Elena said. ‘What would make you leave something you’ve put so much work into, at such a personal cost?’
‘Something none of us could foresee, Elena. Call it an attempt at insurance against unexpected blows of fate.’
Harrigan couldn’t work out if this was sarcastic or a warning. He felt there was a barb in the words and assumed Elena had as well. Given the way he looked, Brinsmead must have had some knowledge of unexpected blows of fate.
‘Why don’t we take the commander up to the roof? He can see what he’s buying into,’
Brinsmead said.
‘I had planned to do that. Now seems to be a good time.’
‘I’ll get rid of my coat,’ Brinsmead said.
Harrigan watched him walk into his glassed-in office near the main door and hang up his lab coat. His actions were slow and awkward, the movements of someone who dealt with pain as a matter of course. His office, on display to the room, was painstakingly ordered and plain without any hint of personal decoration. Outlined in the glass with the lights on him, his marked face seemed stripped to its essentials. There was nothing to cushion the impress of the bone beneath his damaged skin; everything had been burnt away. Harrigan was suddenly aware of Elena, standing close by. She was also watching Brinsmead, her face expressionless, almost cold. Throughout the tour of the laboratory, there had seemed no warmth or rapport between them.
She turned to see Harrigan watching her. ‘Shall we go?’ she said with an immediate smile.
She led them out of the laboratory into a roomy elevator, where she pressed the button marked Roof. When the doors opened, they stepped out onto a wide viewing platform. Harrigan could see the rest of the industrial estate shimmering in the midmorning heat. The huge metal sheds and cheap brick buildings appeared like toys in the distance.
‘This is the best way to see the building,’ Elena said. ‘As a whole, not disconnected parts. I love this building. I see it as a crystal snake biting its tail. I’ve watched over it ever since it was on the drawing board. Years of hard work have gone into this.’
Seen from the viewing platform, the building resembled a slice taken from a multifaceted diamond where each facet connected into the next. The garden at the centre was a startling mix of live greens while the interlocking panes of its glass roof formed an arched pattern against the grey walls.
‘Everything inside those walls is cutting edge,’ Elena continued. ‘The waste-disposal systems, sewerage, the air conditioning, water recycling, energy efficiency, everything. Here, we’re researching the regeneration of nerves and skin, the restoration of motor-skill functions, the repair of brain damage. The possibilities are limitless.’
‘You have a very sizeable investment here,’ Harrigan said.
