The Delta Chain (3 page)

‘Yes, we are.’

‘But Mum-’

‘That's quite enough, Joey.’

The one thing that disappointed Barbara was her son’s negative reaction to Costas. Costas genuinely liked Joey and made every effort to talk to him, include him in conversations, offering to take him out to play games or watch sports - the kinds of things Joey loved. He always went along to watch Joey’s basketball games on the weekends. But her son remained surly and difficult where Costas was concerned.

She hoped Joey’s attitude would begin to soften, but so far there'd been no sign of that. With a sigh she cast the thought aside and went to the phone to call Costas, a sudden sense of unease welling up inside her.

Kate Kovacs was in Adam’s apartment when he returned. ‘Hello, stranger,’ she called from the kitchen, her back to him as she checked the vegetable stew on the hot plate.

He came into the kitchen behind her, his arms circling her tiny waist, his face nuzzling the nape of her neck. ‘Who's a stranger?’

‘Weren't you due in half an hour ago?’

‘I was called away from the stadium,’ he said, and he told her briefly about the girl on the beach.

‘Does that job of yours ever end?’

‘I guess not.’

‘Long day, so you're going to need a good feed. Agree?’

‘Agree.’

‘So sit down and look extremely grateful while I serve.’

They sipped on chilled white wine as they shared the meal and Adam told her a little about the rough and ready group of boys that had been thrown together as a team. He’d always loved the game of basketball and was looking forward to the fun and the challenge of working with this group of youngsters. He didn’t elaborate any further on his earlier mention of the drowned girl and Kate didn't ask.

That was one of the things Adam liked about this young woman. When he was with her he was able to switch off completely from the job and enjoy her company. It was a long time since he’d been able to do that. An earlier, long-term relationship with a female police officer, back in his constable days, had been fairly intense but not much fun. She'd always been talking shop, and they’d often disagreed on police matters. That particular young woman had long since moved to another posting.

After the meal Kate dashed into the kitchen to make coffee.

‘You're really spoiling me tonight,’ Adam called after her. ‘So what's with all this special attention?’

‘Every now and then I get these rushes of domesticity, y’know, the ol’ cookin’ and cleanin’ for your man.’ This last phrase delivered with a country music twang. ‘Enjoy it while it lasts. There’s usually long periods of rampant feminism in between these girlie bursts.’

He laughed, and watched her as she strode back in, mugs of the steaming liquid in each hand. She had a soft, silken beauty, large brown eyes and olive skin. Her collar length blonde hair had a tousled look to it.

He liked her natural energy. Her perky face leant itself easily to emotive expressions and her voice held just a touch of huskiness.

Adam had met her just three weeks before when he’d been called out to the Westmeyer Institute at the northern end of the Northern Rocks coastal strip

The institute had been established in the town just twelve months earlier, and in recent months had an intruder alarm system installed that was linked directly to the police station. Whilst such systems had become increasingly regular in the cities, it was far less usual in regional areas. But then few regional areas had an international state-of-the-art medical research facility nearby, as was now the case with Northern Rocks. John Harrison had been on duty that evening and Adam had been working back, catching up on paperwork. The’'d gone rushing to the institute only to discover it was a false alarm - just the latest incident in a series of mishaps and system crashes within the institute's computer operating network.

Adam and John had been met at the front gate by the institute’s security chief, Tony Collosimo, who’d gruffly apologised for the false alarm. ‘Our IT lady is here and she’s fixed the problem,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘She’s established that the alarm was activated by another of these damn virus problems we’ve been having.’

William Westmeyer himself had come across, with the IT consultant, from the main building. He introduced himself to the officers and made his apologies but Adam found it hard to take his eyes off the young woman who accompanied him. Westmeyer introduced Kate, and said, ‘With any luck, gentlemen, Kate here will solve all our systems problems so that something like this won’t happen again.’

‘We've had a few problems of our own with the police computer,’ Harrison said, ‘could use some help of our own, couldn’t we, Adam?’

Adam had to agree. ‘Unfortunately we need to rely on the regional head office to send out their boffins when we experience serious system faults.’

‘I'm sure Miss Kovacs could assist, compliments of the institute, Detective,’ Westmeyer offered. He was a tall, broad shouldered man, smooth and articulate in manner.

‘No problem,’ Kate added, ‘in fact, I’d love a tour of the station when the chance arises.’

The Northern Rocks police station wasn’t huge, and the computers were basic PC desktops for data entry and information retrieval. Without compromising any internal security, Adam had shown Kate around the station the following week, and she’d shown Adam and a few of the officers some admin ‘tricks’ for using their systems more effectively.

Adam and Kate shared a pub counter lunch that day which led, a few nights later, to a dinner date at the local seafood restaurant. Over oysters kilpatrick and a mouth watering lobster dish, Adam learned that, in addition to computer troubleshooting, Kate’s other great love was gourmet cooking, and she arranged to visit Adam’s apartment the following week to prepare and share a home meal. ‘Normally,’ she said, ‘I don't offer to cook for a man until the third dinner date.’

‘And you’ll be cooking for me on the second.’ Adam picked up the rhythm of the humour. ‘I'm honoured.’

‘Consider yourself in the elite. But be warned, these relationships that get fast-tracked can also burn out before their time.’ They laughed together. But Adam found himself hoping that wouldn't be the case where he and Kate were concerned.

Costas had arrived home shivering, fully intending to step under a hot shower. Instead he draped himself with a blanket and sat on the worn lounge in his small fibro and tile cottage, staring blankly at the wall.

The sudden shrill ring of the phone startled him. He reached over to it. ‘Yes?’

‘Costas. Why aren’t you here?’

He felt a wave of nausea rising from the pit of his stomach. ‘Sorry, Barbara. Stayed fishing too long.’ His voice was strained.

‘Should've known.’ Her voice held its usual, easy warmth. ‘So are you about to leave? Dinner’s ready and, well, you know Joey, he’s starving.’

Costas tried to stifle the rising bile. After a pause he simply grunted.

‘Costas...?’

‘Hold on-,’ he dropped the receiver and ran to the bathroom. He could feel the ice cold, dead flesh of the corpse all over - against his arms, his chest, his legs. Smothering him. And the eyes...

He vomited into the bowl.

By the time he'd composed himself and returned to the phone, the line was dead. He had no way of knowing that Barbara Cail was already in her fifteen-year old Ford station wagon, leaving behind the simmering roast and Joey’s protests, as she made the ten minute drive from her home to the cottage.

She arrived to find Costas ashen faced and still shivering. He told her about the gruesome discovery he'd made on the beach and Barbara put her arms around him, hugged him close. ‘It must’ve been terrible. I can't imagine...’ Barbara’s neighbour was a nurse and Barbara had heard enough of that woman’s shop talk to suspect Costas was suffering from delayed shock.

‘I’ll be okay,’ Costas said. ‘Just needed a little longer than I realised, to get myself together.’

‘Go take a shower, warm up. Then I’m running you over to the hospital to see one of the docs. You need something-’

‘No, no. No need for that.’

‘Go get under that shower,’ Barbara said. It was a long time since she’d needed to mother a man. She gave him another squeeze and then Costas went through to the bathroom. He was comforted by her presence.

If Costas had any doubts about his feelings for Barbara, then they vanished right there and then as the needlepoint spray of the water gushed over him.

After the meal Adam and Kate planned to sit quietly and watch some late night television. Kate commented that she would enjoy watching the old Harrison Ford/Anne Heche romantic comedy, “Seven Days, Seven Nights”. It was a favourite of hers.

Adam couldn't, however, stay focused on the movie. His mind kept wandering, he was restless, and before the end he excused himself, went pottering around in the kitchen, then disappeared onto the balcony.

Before the end of the movie, Kate eased herself off the lounge and went to the doorway that led to the balcony. She stood quietly a moment, watching Adam. He was cradling a Scotch that he’d barely touched, sitting with feet propped against the railing, gazing out over the night sky, seemingly lost in thought.

It was, of course, rude behaviour on a dinner date. Normally Kate would have made a cutting remark and left in a huff, the relationship over. And yet, despite the fact she hardly knew this man she felt unusually comfortable in his company.

She wasn't offended. She sensed something troubling Adam and it wasn't anything personal between the two of them. The clouds had thinned, the air was fresh after the storm, and the moon was a perfect crescent shape. ‘I didn't think the movie was that bad,’ she said softly.

‘It wasn’t. And I’m sorry, Kate, I’m being a damn lousy date.’

She laughed. ‘Yes. The manner’s need work. Otherwise you’ve got potential.’ She sank into the chair beside him. ‘Is it anything you want to talk about?’

He didn't answer straight away. He sighed, stared off, then back again. ‘I guess it must’ve been that girl in the surf tonight. I didn’t think it would get to me like this...’

‘Instead of being able to unwind, your mind kept switching back to that beach?’

‘Yeah.’

She leaned forward, touched his arm. ‘I don't suppose something like this ever gets any easier, no matter how much experience you might have had.’

‘I see this sort of thing from time to time, Kate. You learn to deal with it. But...’ He stopped mid-sentence and looked to the distance again, allowing the thought to fade.

‘What...?’

‘I had a sister. She drowned here in Northern Rocks when we were kids, twenty two years ago.’

‘Oh my God-’

‘It's not something that ever goes completely away. But I never expected to be...rocked like this. Not after so long.’

Kate’s eyes met his and she moved in closer. ‘I’m guessing the anguish came back, and it was like a real bolt from the blue.’

He nodded.

‘It's perfectly understandable,’ Kate said. ‘Would it help if we talked about it...’

They sat on the balcony until the dawn broke, hands touching from time to time, and Adam told her all about his sister Alana.

It had been their third day stalking the banks of the great Adelaide River, beating their way through dense mangroves that flanked the waterway. Three days and nights of excessive heat and maddening mosquitoes, of mud that stank like rotting food as they pushed deeper and deeper into the Marrakai flood plains of the Northern Territory.

Normally, Greg Kovacs liked the heat and the open spaces of the Australian Outback. But even he was struggling against the extreme conditions in this part of the Territory. He couldn't help but marvel at the composure and stamina of Walter Coolawirra. The Aboriginal tracker, a good humoured man with a short, wiry build, never seemed to tire and hardly seemed to sweat.

‘They are close now, Greg, very close,’ Walter said, standing perfectly still with his face lifted to the sky, eyes alert and focused on a point somewhere in the tangle of vegetation that draped the horizon.

There was very little daylight left and the first visible stars were already twinkling in the inky blue of the sky. But there was no peace, not with the constant, thunderous babble that filled the air. The swamps were a vast nesting and feeding ground for hundreds of species of birds. Their cries and squeals made up a frenetic symphony that had at once both a beauty and a savagery that can only be experienced in the wild.

‘How close?’ Greg asked. It was already past time for them to find higher ground to set up camp.

‘North. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe thirty.’

‘Are they setting up camp?’

‘Cannot say, boss. But most likely. They have left it very late today.’

‘What about us?’

‘We should set up camp now. We’re close enough to close the distance in the morning. Early, early start for us, eh?’ Walter had been born and raised on the Aboriginal settlement in the Northern Territory town of Settler’s Gorge. One of the most skilled trackers in the region, he made a decent living. He often freelanced for the local police, the emergency services and the N.T. Wildlife Conservation Commission.

They pitched their tent and began cooking tinned foods on the carbine bush stove. As they had the past three nights, they rigged a kerosene lamp on wire over the camp to give them a small pool of light. Walter wouldn’t allow the lighting of even a fire. He wouldn’t allow anything that had the slightest chance of alerting the hunters to his and Greg’s existence.

‘They travelled a bloody long way today,’ Greg said as they squatted on the patch of dry grass, digging into the canned beans.

‘Bad day for them, Greg. No crocs. Who knows why? I expect they wanted to get as far in to the swampland as they could. They know that’s where the crocs are moving to this time of year. I’d say that when they do stop, they want to catch as many as they can in a short time and then head back. I think all the stories about these men have been true. They are professionals. They know their stuff.’