The Delta Chain (37 page)

She
hadn
’
t expected to still be alive this
morning. She
’
d expected to die (and
thought she was actually dead) the day before. She remembered the
fear, the silence of a scream that wouldn
’
t come, the desperate pleading with her eyes and her
clenched fists. She remembered, too, the face she
hadn
’
t seen before, watching from a
distance, as though he was a spectator watching a show.

Who is that
bastard? Why won
’
t he
help me?

As she had a dozen times before,
she wondered who these people were and why they were doing
this.

Death would come today. She was
certain of that. She sobbed as she thought of the excruciating
ordeal that lay ahead.

Oh Dear God why me…why?

Curled in a foetal position, she
cried silently to herself, rocking back and forth. As she did every
day, she thought of Daniel. She tried to envisage every feature of
his face, however small. How she wished he were here, to feel the
palm of his hand in hers. If only he could have been here, to hold
her hand as she died.

PART THREE

THE DELTA CHAIN

Heavy cloud meant the dawn
was more like a long twilight spread across a still landscape.
There was the occasional boom of thunder, and the DJ on
Adam
’
s car radio warned of thunderstorms
throughout the day.

The interior of the house
no longer resembled the family home it had once been. Hastily
erected work-stations and evidence benches were crammed with
electronic equipment. Scattered mugs and plates had provided a
breakfast of toast and coffee. Adam wiped sleep from his eyes as he
entered the house and gratefully accepted a mug of the brew. He
hadn
’
t had much sleep and it showed in
his rumpled appearance. He didn
’
t
care.

Markham had walked in only
minutes before him and Kate was already there, bright eyed, setting
up the Landscan III unit.

O
’
Malley breezed across and grasped Adam
’
s hand.
‘
Okay, Adam,
I
’
ve just introduced Kate and Brian to
the team and we
’
ve about finished setting
up here. I
’
ve just been digesting this
intel on last night
’
s double
murder.
’

‘Yeah…
’

O
’
Malley, in a louder voice, addressed the full team.
‘
Okay, people, pull up seats and
let
’
s go through the
situation.
’

Adam leaned against the
armrest of a sofa as the others gathered. The furniture had been
pushed out of its natural place, an organised chaos that, strangely
enough, matched the intense environment of a task force in action.
From time to time he glanced in Kate
’
s
direction but she studiously avoided eye contact. If
she
’
d been affected as he had by their
words the night before she didn
’
t show
it.

She was focused.

‘You
’
ve all been brought up to date on the Landscan III,
’
O
’
Malley said. His
demeanour was calm but with the necessary stamp of command.
‘
The on screen map shows us that the croc
poachers are at the Westmeyer Institute. Last night, Detective
Bennett and Constable Harrison observed the passage of a large road
rig into a rear dock entry. We
’
ve no
doubt there is a lower level capable of housing that rig, though
there
’
s no knowledge or evidence of such
a level amongst the general workers. Adam and Kate can attest to
that.

‘There is, however, a
little used goods lift at the rear of the building, which is the
most likely internal access point to the lower level.

‘Adam and Kate discovered,
from Rhonda Lagan
’
s diary, that she was
called on to fix PC units she suspected were used in a hidden
section of the Institute. Whatever has been built below ground has
been done in secret.

‘Wal and Megan now have
detailed information on the Institute
’
s
history…
’

Wal Hester moved
forward.
‘
The Institute is known for its
work in developing cancer treating drugs; in recombinant DNA for
products to treat blood disorders; and in testing new surgical
instruments. Westmeyer has a small list of blue chip investors and
clients, funding his research, just one of which is the U.S.
Defence Department.

‘What
’
s unusual, though, is that from our analysis of papers
filed with the Investment and Securities Commission, these funds
wouldn
’
t fully cover the
Institute
’
s operations. And
that
’
s without taking into account the
costs involved with this hidden level.

‘U.S Defence operations
are classified, so we can
’
t at this time
ascertain definite financial commitments-
’

‘You think
there
’
s a deeper level of undisclosed
financial backing coming from there?
’
Adam asked.

‘We
’
re going down that track, yes. Especially in light of the
long association Westmeyer has had with Defence since Vietnam. At
our last briefing we established that Logan Asquith, now head of
the R&D division at Defence, was Westmeyer
’
s Area Chief Commander in Sun La Province. Now we can
confirm key Westmeyer staff did their tour of duty in the same area
at the same time, different battalions, but all under the same Area
Commander.

‘Jackson Donnelly was a
riverboat gunner, later going to work for Westmeyer. Hailing from
Australia, Tony Collosimo was a teenage private. After
‘
Nam, he returned to Australia. He trained in
security, and later went to America to join the Institute during
its early years.
’

‘I gather,
’
Markham said,
‘
that
Westmeyer put together his senior management from Vietnam
contacts.
’

‘Many of his scientific
staff also came from Defence,
’
Megan
Shorter added, confirming Markham
’
s
comment. All eyes now moved to her.
‘
We
’
ve been in touch with the CIA,
the FBI and the US Attorney General
’
s
department. We have their co-operation in investigating both the
Westmeyer Institute and Defence
’
s R&D
staff in Bethesda.
’

‘This
doesn
’
t sound remotely like the sort of
thing US Defence would support,
’
Markham
observed.

‘Couldn
’
t agree more,
’
O
’
Malley said.
‘
We believe this may be traced to a maverick
group operating covertly within the R & D division.
’

‘Another link,
’
Wal Hester added,
‘
is
that the Feds have sent through a photograph, supplied by a
reporter, showing the same croc hunters in Florida, at the time the
Institute was based there.
’

‘Okay, next step,
’
O
’
Malley said, taking
centre stage again,
‘
we
’
ve had an ID, thanks to
Kate
’
s employer, on the owner of the PC
responsible for sending in the Institute
’
s computer virus. Traced via a PING number. Not a surprise,
really. Melanie Cail.
’

‘She did this to create
her own news story?
’
Kate was
incredulous.

‘It seems that way.
We
’
ve established she was being
considered for a job with the Brisbane City Chronicle, which
explains her ambition to stir up some big stories. For some reason,
it appears Tony Collosimo was involved. As it happens, their deaths
give us a continuing reason to have Adam on site at the
Institute.
’

‘There
’
s irony for you,
‘
said
Markham.
‘
Working the murder case will
actually help us with our observation of the Institute
itself.
’

‘Yes. And I
don
’
t need to tell everyone we need a
fast result on both. Adam, today
’
s the
day. You need to confirm those lifts as the access point to the
lower level and ascertain what
’
s going on
there, without raising suspicion. Then, we mobilise our people and
move in, freezing the activities and making initial
arrests.

‘Kate,
it
’
s your first day back on board at the
Institute, they probably won
’
t be
expecting you and the murders will have caused a distraction, to
say the least. Anything you can find out by delving into the
databanks will be useful.
’

O
’
Malley then deferred to Adam.

Adam addressed the team,
sketching in details on the boy named Daniel. He glanced in
Kate
’
s direction as he spoke. This time
the gaze was returned. She nodded her head, acknowledging him. Adam
was relieved that he saw no further signs of resentment there. He
desperately wanted to speak with her but this was neither the time
nor the place. He and Markham were due to leave immediately, after
the briefing, for the Institute.

Kate would travel there later.
It was important the players kept a reasonable distance from one
another, so that the unity behind the real investigation was kept
hidden.

Outside the sun might have risen
further in the morning sky but it was unseen by Adam and Markham.
It was covered by thick, ominous cloud. The unnatural twilight
continued with the random claps of distant thunder becoming
increasingly louder.

Erickson and his men
tramped the river
’
s banks. The boy had
been swimming but he must
’
ve come ashore
at some point. Erickson
’
s intention was
to retrace the route, hoping it would yield some clue. His team,
after all, were skilled hunters, unlike Vender
’
s weirdos.

Mid morning. Cloudy, gusty. They
came upon an elderly man who had cast a fishing line. A typically
old-fashioned hardy country soul, thought Erickson. He liked the
type. It reminded him of his father.

‘Are they biting today,
friend?
’
Erickson asked.

‘No. Lazy today,
’
the old man replied.
‘
They probably don
’
t like the
weather any more than I do.
’

‘Or maybe that swimmer
yesterday scared them all off, eh?
’

‘What swimmer?
’

‘I heard some kid swam
right through here. It would have been, oh, around this time, maybe
a little earlier.
’

‘Never heard
that.
’

‘Probably no one else down
here that early anyway,
’
Erickson said,
shrugging it off.

‘Oh, I
don
’
t know about that.
‘
Ol Costas Yannous is often down here as the
sun
’
s coming up. When it comes up, that
is. Boy does that man love to fish. You know Costas, our local deli
man?
’

‘No.
’

‘Maybe he was down here
with young Joey.
’

Erickson replied quickly,
manipulating the conversation.
‘
Don
’
t believe I know young Joey
either. Costas
’
son?
’

‘No. Young Joey Cail.
Barbara Cail
’
s boy.
’

‘Well, good luck.
Don
’
t go giving up on those lazy little
fellows.
’

‘Never do.
’
The old man grinned.
‘
And it
’
s the
big
fellows
I
’
m wanting.
’

So it was a popular spot for the
local fishing addicts, thought Erickson. Now he needed some luck.
He needed for one of the fishermen to have seen Daniel, he needed
for someone to have helped the boy. And if such a person did exist,
the trail would lead to Daniel.

He used his cell to call
Jackson Donnelly.
‘
I
don
’
t care how you do it,
’
Erickson said,
‘
but I
need you to get hold of the local fishing suppliers
’
current customer list. I need names and
addresses. And for starters, get the addresses of Yannous and Cail
from the local phone book.
’

‘What
’
s this all about?
’
Donnelly hated
being given instructions by Erickson.

‘I don
’
t have time for twenty questions, Donnelly.
There
’
s a fishing spot along the river
where the boy swam to his freedom. It
’
s
possible someone saw him and helped him. I need those
addresses.
’