The Delta Chain (11 page)

One of the first things to catch Hank’s eye
when Jean showed him through the house was the collection of family
photographs, on the living room mantelpiece and tastefully
displayed throughout the home. Her late husband, herself, and a
young man, clearly their son.

‘Fine looking young fellow,’ Hank
commented.

‘He was the finest,’ she replied with an
unmistakable hint of melancholy.

Hank waited, sensing more.

‘His name was Kevin. Very active. A bit of a
nomad, runs in the family I guess. He was a reporter like you,
Hank. Came to Florida ten years ago to work on the Everglades
Courier, then moved to the Miami Daily Mail.’

‘Then he was smarter than me,’ Hank said. ‘I
stayed in cold, hard Chicago for my whole career. Perhaps I
should’ve headed south like your Kevin.’

‘Well, it’s a damn fine place, weather-wise.
Kevin had that right.’ They sat down to the kind of meal Hank had
taken for granted during his married years and which he now missed.
Jean asked him about his family and his career and he found himself
opening up to her more than he’d ever done with someone he barely
knew. Her comfortable manner inspired trust.

He told her about his youngest boy, James,
who’d suffered the debilitating effects of cystic fibrosis and
who’d died at just nineteen in the arms of his mother and father.
It was many years now since James’ death and Hank’s telling of the
story was not a sorrowful one. He remembered James, who’d had a
strong spirit and a marvellous sense of humour, with memories of
happiness and affection.

His older son, Brent, and daughter Carole now
had families and careers of their own, Brent in New York and Carole
in Seattle.

The conversation turned to Jean’s
newspaperman son. ‘I visited Kevin a few times after he moved down
here. After my husband died I’d stayed on in Washington, running
the family hardware business. I really don’t know why, Hank, I
never had much interest in hardware to tell you the truth.’ She
shrugged and gave him a lazy smile.

‘I’d say you were doing it for your husband’s
memory, and for your son and no doubt grandchildren.’

‘Won’t be any of those now.’ After a brief
pause, she continued: ‘When Kevin died I thought damn it, damn the
whole wide world.’ Hank nodded. He knew that feeling and his eyes
conveyed his empathy. ‘I came down here, decided I’d stay on. I
think maybe I wanted to live out my days in the place Kevin spent
so much of his time. But I also needed a fresh start. I learned how
to skipper a cruiser, bought the Tide Flyer, built the business up
from there.’

‘Good for you.’

‘Mostly, though, deep down anyway, I think
I’ve always hoped I’d come across something to lead me to the men
who murdered Kevin.’

Hank started. He hadn’t expected that Kevin
Farrow’s death had been something that dramatic. The sudden fact of
the matter chilled him out of the comfort he’d been feeling in this
peaceful home with this warm woman.

‘I’m sorry.’ Jean’s open palm flew to her
mouth, ‘I shouldn’t have just blurted that out. I forget that it
comes as a shock to people.’

‘That’s okay,’ Hank said. Jean picked up her
glass of red wine and took several sips. They ate for a short while
in silence. ‘If you’d like to tell me about it, Jean, then please.
I can be a good listener. Had the training, you know.’

She smiled. ‘Of course.’ Her eyes took on a
dreamy quality as she mentally searched out the facts. ‘Kevin was
one of those writers who had a whole swag of causes he was
passionate about. One of them, a very big one, was the conservation
of animal species, something of a major, on-going concern here in
Florida.’

‘Yes. I’ve been doing some reading on that
lately.’

‘He’d picked up on some reports, tourists
exploring the more isolated areas of The Everglades, who’d reported
a sleek water craft, manned by poachers, capturing alligators.’

‘That would’ve got his hackles up.’

‘You bet it did. It’s only been in recent
times, with the alligators under the Protected Species laws, that
their numbers started flourishing again. The rangers had
investigated the reports without success, but then after a long
silence, six months or so, there were a couple of new reports.
Kevin went out there, backpacking, with tents, cameras, you name
it, to trek through the ‘Glades in search of the hunters. And what
he believed was a big story. He loved doing that kind of
thing.’

Hank waited while she took a break, sipping
more wine.

‘It seems these bastards, whoever they are,
got hold of Kevin and strung him up good and tight between branches
over the river bank.’ Hank’s eyes widened as he listened. ‘Well,
the ‘gators they left him for got him all right but apparently
couldn’t dislodge him from the binds, so they bit him clean in
half, carried off the torso…’

‘Oh my God…Jean…’

‘The rangers found his upper remains, still
hanging from the ropes, a few days after he was reported missing.
They combed the place for those hunters, bringing in the State
police, the Feds, everyone and his dog according to them, but they
never found a damn thing to lead them to the culprits. Nothing
whatsoever.’

‘I don’t recall hearing about any of this.’
Hank’s heart was crying out for this sad but feisty woman.

‘They never released the full details to the
public. Too gruesome, they said. Didn’t want it to hinder their
investigation, they told me. Of course, they wouldn’t have wanted
anything like that to become known to the massive tourist trade
down here. Not good for business.’

‘These hunters-?’

Jean had an answer before she’d heard the
question. ‘There’s never been another sighting or report on them.
Vanished, it seems, into thin air.’

‘But surely…’

‘No. Nothing.’ As though suddenly realising
or remembering something, Jean’s eyes widened and her hand flew to
her mouth. ‘Oh dear, oh…what on earth am I thinking, inviting you
to dinner then laying all…
that
…on you. Believe me, I don’t
usually…and now, of course, I’m rambling…’

Hank reached forward and clasped her hand in
his. It was a spontaneous act. ‘You’ve had a terrible cross to
bear.’

‘Still, it’s hardly dinner conversation.’

‘It could use a little work,’ Hank said with
a wink. And she smiled.

‘You’re probably wondering why I’ve stayed
here, but as I said before I feel close to Kevin, and I know his
father would’ve liked it here as well. What’s more, I like to keep
in touch with Mandy.’

‘Mandy?’

‘Kevin’s widow. She’s remarried now to a nice
fellow and they have a daughter. Best thing for her.’

‘Yes,’ Hank agreed. The conversation turned
to other things and the mood lightened again. But in the back of
Hank’s mind, old familiar wheels began to turn. The reporter in
Hank Mendelsohn’s soul had never retired, he lurked within, forever
inquisitive. And the story Hank had just been told was one of the
most bizarre he’d ever heard.

William Westmeyer was a controlled man, but
in this instance he showed anger to make his point. ‘What the hell
is going on, Kate.’ He rose from his desk as she entered the
office, flanked by Jackson Donnelly and Stephen Hunter. ‘I’m not
ungrateful, I know you walked into the middle of this and you’ve
been putting in long hours. But there’s been no improvement, if
anything the problem’s worse, and situations like this one today
are totally unacceptable.’

Kate had come straight from Hunter’s lab,
where she’d isolated the virus in the DataStorming program and then
deleted it. After shutting the system down, she’d rebooted.
Hunter’s programs and data were intact, with the exception of the
work he’d processed that afternoon.

‘It seems this is a mutating virus,’ Kate
explained. ‘When we’ve isolated and deleted the infected data, as
I’ve just done in Stephen’s lab, we’re not actually getting the
core of the virus itself. It’s still lurking in the mainframe,
triggered by an unknown code or signal.’ She glanced at each of
them, and then focused once more on Westmeyer. ‘When that trigger
occurs, I believe the virus is replicating itself in the form of a
mini virus, which attaches to programs at random.’

‘Okay,’ said Hunter, ‘so that’s why there’s
ongoing attacks. While you’re fixing one hole, another’s
forming.’

‘Exactly. If it wasn’t for this mutating
effect, the problem would’ve been solved long ago.’

‘But you swept the entire network with your
anti-virus program,’ Donnelly said. Whenever Donnelly spoke to her,
the simplest comment always came across with a sneer. He was one of
the most obnoxious men Kate had ever met. This was not the first
time she was struck by how Westmeyer’s right hand man was the
complete opposite, in manner, outlook and appearance, to Westmeyer
himself. Donnelly, crew cut and pug faced, reminded her of a boxer
who’d hit middle age and was pissed off about it.

‘Yes. And at the time I believed it would be
an end to the problem. But this particular virus has been designed
to resist even the most sophisticated a-v software.’

‘And you still have no idea how this blasted
thing got into my computer network, despite all our security
precautions.’ Westmeyer was referring to the “firewalls”, set up to
block any corrupted, incoming data, or hackers.

‘Not yet,’ said Kate. What she couldn’t
reveal was the suspicion she’d shared with Betty. Only someone with
inside knowledge could have created this bug.

‘We’re losing valuable new data – and time,’
Westmeyer said. ‘I’m sorry, Kate, but this can’t go on. I’m going
to have to talk to your boss. I expected a hell of a lot better,
frankly, from A.B.C.S.’

‘I understand. Believe me, I’m just as
frustrated as you are. Talk to James, by all means. He’s been
analysing the developments here. With a problem like this, the
first step is to fully understand the nature of the virus itself,
so that an anti-virus can be built. It’s just more complex than
first anticipated.’

Westmeyer allowed his anger to subside. ‘Very
well, Kate.’ As she turned to leave, be buzzed through to his
secretary. ‘Belinda, get me James Reardon on the line.’

Back in his lab, Stephen Hunter was briefing
one of his assistants, Jeff Redlich, on re-programming data, when
Westmeyer strode in. ‘What’s the impact of all this to our
timing?’

‘A day lost, maybe two.’

‘Damn.’

Hunter shrugged. ‘I’m as pissed as you are.
I’m just counting myself lucky this is the first time my lab’s been
affected.’

‘It should never have happened to any labs.
Stephen, if that timing can be improved, let me know. Every day is
crucial now we’re in the final phase.’

‘I’m doing everything I can. But do me a
favour, keep that blasted ape Donnelly away from me and away from
my lab.’

‘I’ve told you before, don’t worry about
Donnelly-’

‘I don’t need stand-over men looking over my
shoulder making stupid fucking comments. I know you think you need
morons like that around, but as far as I’m concerned you should’ve
left him working for the mob in New York, where he belongs.’

‘Just don’t concern yourself with Donnelly,’
Westmeyer repeated.

‘Come in, Adam.’ Eddie Cochrane waved Adam
into the office, and closed the door behind him. ‘Gut feeling tells
me you’re here about this drowning victim.’

Adam pulled up a chair as Eddie returned to
his. ‘That’s what I’m here about.’

Eddie spread his arms in a gesture of
bewilderment. ‘Amazing. In the space of a few hours I’ve had my
star reporter tell me there’s a big story here, I’ve had the mayor
on the phone telling me to back off, and now you’ve dropped by.
What’s all the fuss about?’

‘There’s nothing to fuss about, but I agree
you wouldn’t think that by the way everyone’s acting.’

‘You got that right.’ Eddie shook his head
with a bemused expression. There was a part of him, a part of many
newsmen, which enjoyed the fuss.

‘I’ve just come from Bingham’s office, so I
know he spoke to you after his PR officer copped a call from
Melanie Cail. I was concerned that, rather than quell the fuss, he
may have piqued your curiosity further. And there’s no need.’

‘Why’s the mayor so concerned?’

‘Eddie, I think it’s just one of those days
when emotions are in high gear. It’s an election year, the town’s
birthday festival is coming up…’

‘Bingham thinks the festival will help his
re-election chances.’

‘I’d say so. Melanie Cail wants to jump on
this and turn it into something scary. It’s a hell of a stretch,
Eddie, and it got the mayor’s ire up.’

‘Granted. But there is a link. Neither of the
victims can be identified.’

‘The local Jane Doe was only found last
night. You know very well it could take a few days to establish her
identity.’

‘Maybe in the big city. Less likely in a
small town like this one.’

‘It’s too early to draw comparisons. You know
that, Eddie.’

‘I know.’ Eddie leaned forward, fixing Adam
with a purposeful gaze. ‘Tell you what. I won’t run anything other
than the known facts this week. Wouldn’t have, anyway. But if the
girl hasn’t been identified by then, and if Melanie comes up with a
strong angle on the two cases, then I’m going to run with it next
week. And that’s fair.’

‘It’s what I wanted to hear.’

‘And I’ll tell you one more thing about all
this. It fits a pattern that’s been around since the year dot,
Adam. A possible reason certain people got all concerned and you
and I can’t really understand why.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘There’s something else going on. Something
they know about that we don’t.’

It had been a long, hard day and Kate was
tired when she got home.