Batteries Not Included

by Tony McFadden

  Nick stood and tucked the laptop under his arm. “I could eat.”

  * * *

  Mike Murphy unlocked the door on the side of the house and entered the security room. It was unmanned while staff was on the grounds. The night shift left at 6:00 a.m. A panel of six monitors was mounted on the wall above the lone desk. He entered his credentials in the terminal and checked the access log to the video surveillance system. Again. He had to have missed something. Logging for all south facing cameras had been shut off just before midnight the night before Andy’s murder and had, miraculously, returned to perfect working order at 10:30 a.m., about 4 hours after the murder.

  The logs were clear. The last entry before midnight was his, and the one before 10:30 was his.

  And he knew with absolute certainty that he didn’t turn off the cameras.

  4

  “So, you don’t take the lifts? At all?” Nick took what felt like the fiftieth left turn as they descended the internal stairs from the sixteenth floor to the fifth, where the company cafeteria lived. As they passed the eight floor, heading for the seventh, he started smelling the food.

  “Gotta stay fit, especially with this food,” said Kirra. “And it’s all downstairs, Nick. Give me a break.”

  “My knees are shot. This is like a restaurant?”

  “More like a cafe. No reservations needed. Some really good cooking talent in there, though.”

  They rounded from sixth to fifth and Nick was enveloped in savoury smells that triggered immediate Pavlovian responses in his salivary glands and his stomach. “Okay. This is something else.”

  Kirra pointed at a booth. She signalled to someone behind the counter and sat across from him. “Let’s try this again.”

  “Just hold up a second. You have a hot food cafe? I was expecting a bunch of tables and a couple of microwaves. Maybe a couple of coffee machines. This,” he shook his head. “This is better than most of the places on the street.”

  “Keep your employees happy and they produce quality results.” She leaned back as a serving of eggplant lasagne was placed in front of her. Nick received veal parmesan and chips. “The financial health of the company is - ”

  Nick held up his hand. “Hang on. We’re going to eat before we talk business. And I’ve got a couple of questions myself.”

  Kirra took a deep breath. “Of course.”

  He speared a chip with his fork and bit the end off. “I don’t mean to seem indelicate, but if I was investigating this cold, just looking at the facts in front of me, you’d be my prime suspect. Rich husband dies, arty wife takes ownership of the company and is siphoning a big bankroll for herself.”

  Kirra narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then smiled. “Valid points. All of them. Except for a few relevant facts. First, Andy and I were very much in love. And what a pair we were. An immigrant from Hong Kong and his taller wife of The Yugambeh people of the Gold Coast.” She smiled. “Pissed off a lot of the older white conservative types. Especially when our net worth passed theirs. Second, my bank account might not be as large as Andy’s, but it’s large enough for me to live comfortably on my own for the rest of my life if I lived to 200.”

  Nick picked at his chips. “How’d that happen?”

  “Huge, HUGE market for Australian Indigenous art in America. Huge. I do okay here in Australia. I could actually live a nice life in Bronte on my Australian sales, but the American sales dwarf anything I can make here. I have a gallery in New York I visit every couple of months. No need to siphon off any money. That would take too much effort. And I wouldn’t know how to do it, anyway.”

  He pushed the chips around on his plate. “Okay, that satisfies the money side of it, if what you say is true.”

  “It is.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I’m sure you’ll check. Wouldn’t expect anything different.”

  “Your husband was killed a little over 24 hours ago and you are here, in the office, showing no grief. No emotional impact from the death of the man you just told me you loved very much.” He held up his hands. “Your words.”

  “None of us live forever. Life is fleeting. We’re not here for eons, then we’re born and we exist for under a hundred years, usually. Then we die and we’re not here for more eons. We enjoy it while we can. You should enjoy it while you can. Find joy and peace in everything you do. I will miss Andy. And I’ll grieve in my own way. But it was very likely that I would outlive him in any event. He was older than me by almost fifteen years. Plus, neither one of us were big on sentimentality. Live life a day at a time. Enjoy it while you can. Push through the rough days. You’ll find, after a while, if you adopt that philosophy and adhere to it daily, you’ll have a much less stressful life.”

  “Way too Zen for me. When’s the service?”

  “In a few days. He’ll be cremated and I’ll sprinkle the ashes in the ocean at his favourite surf spot.” She slid a sheet of paper across the table. “A contract. $2,000 a day to investigate what Andy thinks is happening.” She pushed the paper a few millimetres closer to Nick.

  He didn’t touch it. He didn’t even look at it. “I left my cushy job with the feds investigating financial crimes because it bored the ever loving hell out of me. I hated it. Had a really bad performance review after completely not doing my job for almost six months. I deserved the sacking. It was the happiest day of my life.” He cleared his throat and chewed on another chip. “And I don’t think I can go back to it.” He pulled the paper marginally closer with his index finger and glanced at it. “Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

  “It’s two grand a day, Nick. I know you can use it. And you can stay in my guest house while you work. It was my husband’s last wish. For you to do this thing.” Kirra pushed the paper a smidge closer to Nick. “Come on.”

  He finally looked closely at the sheet of paper. Picked it up and read it. A simple contract, binding him to Kirra personally at the day-rate she mentioned, until she was satisfied the job was finished, or two weeks. Whichever came first. A couple of paragraphs around confidentiality and reporting requirements. He shook his head and slid the paper back across the table to Kirra. “I’m only one person. I don’t have a support staff. Nobody else works with me. I don’t even, technically, have an office. I work out of my apartment. You need a bigger team, one with experience in this.” He picked up his fork and knife. “But I’m going to finish this veal first”

  “Nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”

  He shook his head while he chewed. “I really, really could use the money, but I’ve got a rule about setting myself up for failure. Enough other people do that for me already. No point in volunteering for it.” He took a bite and closed his eyes in appreciation. “And I try to avoid ripping off clients.” He finished the last piece of veal and wiped the juices with the last chip.

  She handed him a business card as he stood. “Call me with your decision tomorrow.”

  He unclipped his temporary identification from his belt and placed it on top of the laptop. “My condolences, Kirra. Hang on to this for me.” He pointed to the lifts. “Do I need a pass to get to the ground floor?”

  She shook her head. “Give my offer some thought.”

  5

  The regret started the second he sat in his car. Even before he started it and the small cloud of smoke popped out of the exhaust. The car started hard. He needed a new battery. The tires were getting very close to becoming slicks. And the crack on his windscreen got noticeably longer every speed bump and pothole he hit.

  But he was nothing if not intensely stubborn. And proud. And unwilling to admit, ever, that he was wrong. He drove back to his apartment on autopilot.

  But he was thinking now he was wrong. The financial tracking was easy, and the money good. But it was the contract that was appealing. “Two weeks. Twenty thousand dollars.” He pulled to the kerb at the apartment building and turned off the ignition. The engine rattled for a few s
econds before stopping with a bang. “Piece of shit.” He tossed his parking pass on the dash.

  The apartment was cold and dark. He flicked on the lights and turned on the small electric space heater. He filled his kettle and waited for it to come to a boil.

  “Dammit.” He re-checked the fridge. No milk. “Black it is.” He spooned a healthy amount of instant coffee into a mug and was pouring the boiling water in it when someone knocked on his front door.

  “Hey, Nick. You in there?”

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Yo. Davie. The door’s open.”

  Dave lumbered in with a six-pack and took his spot on the end of the sofa. He twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to Nick. “Where were you this morning?”

  He put his coffee down and took the beer. Wiped the condensation off with the tail of his shirt. “Turning down a job.”

  “You nuts? Ten bucks says the only thing in your fridge is a withered apple and sour milk.”

  “You owe me $10. No milk. The job was a non-starter. Lady wanted me to do some financial investigations that a good forensic accounting firm could do in a day.”

  “Why’d she want you?”

  Nick shrugged. “Her husband wanted to hire me for some reason. She didn’t understand why, but wanted to keep his wish.”

  “His wish? He dead or something?”

  He nodded. Took a mouthful of beer. “Yesterday morning. Showed up to meet the guy and he’d already been pummelled to death,” he said. “Anyway, they probably had a team of accountants in already going through the books. I wouldn’t be able to do any better. Why waste time on something I’m probably never going to sort out?” He took another long drink. “Thanks for the beer. I owe you.”

  “Nah, I still owe you a few for getting me into my flat. You need the money, man. You should take it. Bullshit them for a couple days and make a couple hundred bucks.”

  “She was paying two thousand a day.”

  Davie choked on his beer. “Shit. Really? Dude, that’s four times what I make as a corporate IT guy. Jesus. How do I get that gig?”

  Nick leaned sideways and pulled Kirra’s card from his back pocket. “Here. Give her a call.”

  “Nah. Not my thing. I got a job. Corporate ladder and all that.” He chuckled. “You screwed up, man. Ten grand a week. You really need it, too.”

  “I do.” Nick nodded and slid the card back in his pocket. “I really, really do.”

  “How’d the guy die? Wait. Are you talking about Andy Goh? Goh wanted to hire you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesus.” Davie scratched his chin. “How did he die? News said very little about the circumstances.”

  “Apparently he stepped out of his house to pick a newspaper and one or more assailants kicked the ever loving shit out of him.”

  “A newspaper? The Andy Goh, tech billionaire gets an actual newspaper? A paper one?”

  Nick shrugged. “Go figure. I was surprised too. Almost as surprised as I was that someone with the level of security he’s supposed to have got hit that easy. Slipped in and out, cameras down, security staff not there. Seems like an inside job.”

  “You taking that case? Sounds more interesting.”

  Nick stood and stretched. He dropped his empty beer bottle in the recycle bin and pulled another from the case. “Not while the cops are looking into it.” He twisted off the top off the bottle and spun it toward the kitchen. “You off today?”

  “I got an email from HR. Way too much annual leave built up. Had to take a couple of weeks or lose it. I’m bored out of my tree.” He reached for the remote. “You got Netflix, right?” He powered up the small television and pushed the Netflix button on the remote.

  The television powered down and lights went out.

  “What did you do, Davie?” Nick turned on the torch on his phone and headed toward the small closet in the hallway. “You pop a fuse?”

  “I just -- I just turned on the TV, mate. Your fuse blew. Not mine.”

  Nick shook his head and open the small closet in the hall. He opened the small breaker box and shone the phone torch in. All the circuit breakers were still in the ‘On’ position. He slammed the closet shut. “Electrics bill. Kinda little bit overdue. Dammit. I knew I forgot something.”

  Davie stood. “I’ll leave you the beer, mate, but if your television ain’t working, no point hanging around. Come by after.”

  Nick watched him lumber out the door. “Well…” He fished the card out of his back pocket and dialled.

  6

  “You’ve changed your mind?” asked Kirra, over the phone. “I’m delighted to hear that.”

  “Not quite yet. I’m still confused. Have you had a forensic accounting team look into this yet? Because I think that would be the best alternative.”

  “Are you trying to talk yourself out of a job?” Kirra laughed. “No. An external audit team is arriving in about three weeks and we need this resolved before. Andy apparently believed you’re the guy who can resolve it.”

  “Sure. And I’m low enough profile none of the financial media will get wind of it. That contract for two thousand a day, which seems especially generous, is that contingent on me delivering the source of the missing funds within a specific timeframe?”

  “Come to the house for dinner. We can talk over the details tonight. I’ll send a driver. The car will be outside your apartment building in an hour. No arguments.”

  She hung up. Nick pocketed his phone and sighed. “I don’t seem to have any control over my life anymore.”

  An hour was long enough for him to shower, shave and get into some clean clothes. He sat on the apartment building stairs researching Andy Goh, Kirra and Dvorak Kars on his phone. The company did reasonably well until the Federal fleet contract. That deal launched them into the stratosphere.

  The quiet tyre noise of an electric car caught his attention. One of the Dvorak sports cars sat at the kerb, Mike Murphy behind the wheel. The top was down and it was the sexiest car Nick had ever seen. Instead of the red that was in the office lobby, this one was jet black with red-accented black rims. The interior was lined with dark grey leather and the dash, where there wasn’t electronics, was burled teak.

  The seats were black Recaro, body-hugging beauties.

  “Ah, Jesus,” said Mike. “You? I wasn’t told who to pick up, just the address. Sure there isn’t anyone else here I should be waiting for?”

  Nick stood, grin plastered on his face. “Nope. This is me. Company car, or does she pay you well enough to afford this thing?”

  “Get in.”

  The engineering was exquisite. The door closed with a solid “chunk”. The leather was kid soft.

  “Quit gawking and put on your seatbelt.”

  “You don’t strike me as the safety conscious type.”

  “I can’t put it into gear until you put your belt on.”

  “Huh.” He clipped in and was pressed back in the seat as Mike accelerated, silently. The car cornered like it was on rails. “Shit. Son of a bitch goes.”

  Mike’s face showed no emotion. He ran an old yellow light and accelerated to beat the next one. “Hold on.” He turned a hard right and entered the Cross-City Tunnel. “You’re investigating Mr Goh’s death?”

  “The cops are doing that, aren’t they?”

  Mike grunted. “Supposibley.”

  Nick winced. “Right. Supposedly. Well, I’m not.”

  Mike glanced at him, then back to the road. “Then what?”

  “I think that’s between Kirra and me.” Nick didn’t know what Mike knew, or how much Kirra normally shared with him.

  “Are you,” Mike took a deep breath. “Are you reviewing the security arrangements at the estate?”

  “What? No. Hell no. How messed up would it be for Kirra to send you to pick up me to review your domain?” He scratched the back of his head. “Okay. I’m doing what, apparently, Goh wanted me to do from the outset. He thinks money is pouring out of the company. I’ve got a backgroun
d investigating financial crimes. I’m supposed to discover something your accountants couldn’t figure out.”

  Mike noticeably relaxed. “Right. I heard him talking about that.” They popped out of the tunnel into the sun. He squinted and lowered his visor. “We’re there in five. I’m dropping you at the gate. I have to get into the police station to talk to the team investigating Andy’s murder.”

  Nick glanced at him. “How in the hell did that happen?”

  The security guy stared straight ahead. Took a couple of breaths before he answered. ”I don’t know. Too many things had to align just perfectly.” He shook his head. “I really don’t know.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, puffing out his cheeks. “Surprised the missus kept me on, if I’m honest.” He stopped at the open gate. Two guys much larger than Mike stood in the middle of the drive, blocking cars from entering. Mike pointed at them, then at Nick. “He’s good. Let him in. He’s meeting the boss. The new boss.”

  Nick hopped out. “Thanks. I’ll see you around, probably.” He nodded at the two big guys at the gate and jogged toward the front door. He slowed halfway there. It was too warm out and he was starting to perspire. Not a good look. He flapped his shirt as he approached the front door, trying to cool off.

  The door opened as he took the steps up to the small porch. Kirra stood there, hair back in a ponytail and a drink in each hand. “Soda water and frozen fruit. Very refreshing.” She handed him a glass and stepped to one side to let him in.

  “Thanks.” He took the glass, then swapped hands and wiped his hand on his trousers. The condensation on the glass was thick. “Where do I go?”

  “Out back by the pool. Follow me.”