The Shadow Maker (43 page)

‘What firm?’

‘I can’t remember the fucking name. Some poxy software business in Wodonga. He bought it, asset-stripped it and flogged off the bits he didn’t want. And when he took over Xanthus he swapped around some of the stock - including a bunch of utes. Satisfied?’

It sounded plausible but she wasn’t convinced. ‘What about Mazdas?’

‘He pulled the same rort with them. They’re registered to a mothballed company in Ballarat.’

‘How many? And what models - what colours?’

‘Four black MX-5s.’

‘Who drives them?’

‘They’re shared out - mostly among the design team.’

‘Flynn?’

‘He’s got one.’

She was still holding the gun on him. ‘What about Ormond Keppel? Did he have one?’

‘Yes, so what? Is it a fucking crime to drive a Mazda?’

‘Some people might think so.’ She lowered the gun, holstered it and smoothed back her jacket. ‘Sorry, Josh. But you gave me a fright.’

He got up off his knees and brushed himself off. ‘Well I’m pissing myself.’ He shook his head. ‘I just don’t get it.’

‘You’re about to.’ She beckoned him to follow. ‘Come with me.’

She led him through the bedroom and into the computer den, where she introduced him to the computer crime officer, who got up admitting, ‘Sorry, still no luck.’

Josh saw the photos on the wall.

‘Weird.’ He frowned. ‘Is this why I’m here - Flynn’s into kiddy porn and you want me to help bust him?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘What then?’

‘I want you to hack into his computer.’ She ushered him into the chair. ‘We’ve got the smartcard but can’t get past the security checks.’

Still frowning, but without a protest, he swivelled around and examined Flynn’s computer set-up.

It didn’t take long.

‘Okay, I’m in. What are we looking for?’

‘Plato’s Cave.’

‘He won’t have the game here. Barbie would kill him. And how do you know about that anyway? It’s supposed to be an industrial secret.’

‘Never mind. Just look.’

He did a search and got an immediate answer. It filled the column.

‘Well, bugger me,’ he said. ‘He’s downloaded the whole damn thing.

And he’s got a program running on it right now.’

Josh snatched up the cyber-gloves and strapped on the goggles.

Rita watched impatiently as he wiggled around in the chair, his head wobbling, his sensor-stimulated hands manipulating the air as he negotiated his way through virtual reality.

‘I’m in the game,’ he said. ‘And I’ve found the program. Not one I know. It’s called Shadow Duel. Some kind of chase sequence. Must be his own hack-and-slash groove where he -‘

Then he froze. ‘Shit.’

Slowly he removed the goggles and peeled off the gloves.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘You better take a look for yourself.’

He got up to make way for her.

She sat in the chair, pulled on the gloves and tentatively fixed the goggles over her eyes, slotting the headphone attachments into her ears.

They blotted out everything else.

The 3-D images were slightly blurred but they immediately adjusted to her eyesight - and she was inside the game.

She felt a rush of vertigo as a different world opened around her.

Turning her head to either side she found she was looking around a vivid nightscape, on a seashore under a dazzling moonlit sky, the sound of waves crashing in her ears. But there was something else, too, above the receding hiss of the water. Voices; not singing exactly, nor chanting. It was almost like a wailing, charged with emotion. Eerie but somehow erotic. What strange mythic scene had she dropped into? On her left was the sea, foaming with rocks and driftwood. On her right were craggy pinnacles rising above a gorge filled with olive trees stretching into the distance. Ahead of her she could make out a figure moving away along the pale swathe of the beach - the sand ribbed with the bleached bones of skeletons. In one hand she could feel the weight of a sword, its blade stained with blood, in her other hand she carried a shield, and on her head was a helmet.

She loosened an earpiece and asked Josh, ‘What am I supposed to be looking for?’

His voice came back, ‘Someone else on the beach. A female figure. You’re hunting her.’

‘I can see a figure in the distance.’

‘That’s the one. You need to catch up. Use the control pad.’

She could see the small transparent icons to the left of her visual field. She tapped them with her free virtual hand and zoomed in on the figure. The nearer she got, the louder the mad, seductive wailing was in her ears, drowning out the sound of the waves. She realised the voices emanated from the fabulous female creature.

Approaching from behind it was an impressive sight - a statuesque woman, naked under the moon, her curves smooth and elegant, shoulders bristling with white feathered wings. The vision was lurid and fascinating, but clearly dangerous, because it too was armed with sword, shield and helmet. In her right hand, Rita tested the weight of her weapon. She raised it to strike. As she did so, the figure turned and looked at her. The sound of the voices was now overwhelming. Rita dropped the sword. This was beyond anything else she’d experienced. As she stared at her adversary, she found herself looking into her own radiant face.

She threw off the goggles and gloves.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Josh.

‘I’ve felt better,’ said Rita. ‘How has he put me in the game?’

‘He’s created his own avatar,’ he explained. ‘The game lets you do that. He scanned you in from your front-page photo.’

‘Great. And what’s he turned me into?’

‘You’ve got the bronze sword, shield and helmet of the Shadow Maker.’

‘One of the warriors of the cave.’

‘Programmed for a duel to the death.’

‘I need you to explain how something relates to this game,’ said Rita, arms folded. ‘Cutting off sense organs.’

‘It’s the challenge of the demon level,’ said Josh. ‘To defeat she-devils you remove their ability to inflict sensory torment - the Gorgon’s eyes, the Siren’s tongue, the Harpy’s claws, and so on.’

‘Tell me the sequence of levels.’

‘In ascending order there’s the Abyss, Warriors, Prisoners, Demons, Monsters, the tower of Hades, Escape and Light - all drawn from Greek mythology, and consistent with Platonic symbolism.’

‘There’s something else it’s consistent with - but in
descending
order,’ Rita sighed. ‘Role-play, compulsion, addiction and psychosis.’

‘That’s a depressing thought,’ said Josh. ‘But I suppose that’s another thing about games - you end up back at the starting point.’

‘And bronze masks - how do they come into it?’

‘Part of the promotional kit, bronze-coloured latex rubber, easy to wear.’

They were interrupted by the arrival of Strickland, search warrant in hand, followed by Bradby and crime lab scientist Dale Quinn, all crowding into the computer den.

‘So this is it?’ said Strickland, scanning the photos and discs.

‘Who’d have thought by hunting the Hacker we’d stumble onto Kidophiliax. This is amazing work, Van Hassel. How did you put it all together?’

Before she could answer, she found herself looking straight at Eddy Flynn.

He was standing on the far side of the bedroom, a fresh pack of DVDs in his hand, an expression of horror on his face.

As everyone saw him and lurched forward at the same time, Flynn ditched the DVDs, stepped backwards through the door, hitting a wall button as he did so. The door slammed shut with a loud electronic click.

Strickland and Bradby rushed over and tried to open it, but they couldn’t force the lock.

‘How the fuck did that happen?’ Strickland exclaimed. ‘The bastard’s locked us in!’

By the time the door was forced open Eddy Flynn was long gone.

Strickland was already on his phone, ordering a state-wide alert, with taskforce officers scrambling in response, and photos of Flynn being downloaded for circulation to police stations and release to the media. With Strickland in charge of the crime scene, Rita was ordered back to the office to help with background intelligence for the manhunt.

The rain was coming in uneven bursts as she got back in her car. The trees by the lake were thrashing around in spasms, shaken by gusts of wind sweeping through the night. Sheets of lightning were flashing overhead. Peels of thunder were rolling in on top of each other. She watched Josh Barrett drive off, and after a final look around she started up, following the road away from the park with a mixture of anticipation and anticlimax. She wanted a hands-on role in the capture of the Hacker - instead she was retreating to the sidelines.

She drove slowly at first, still keeping a lookout for Flynn’s vehicle and trying to calm her sense of impatience. The image of herself as the Shadow Maker - that surreal experience in VR - had fired her up into a state of manic alertness. The vision was still with her: confronting her own transfigured form endowed with feathered wings, a wild expression and voluptuous nudity. She was yet to get her head around it - being turned into a program by a psychotic killer. And the thing was still running, not just in cyberspace but also inside his mind. Whatever else unfolded in the coming hours, she knew there’d be no sleep for her tonight.

Back at police headquarters, members of the taskforce were thin on the ground, with most of them out on patrol or stake-outs trying to track down Flynn. Rita still felt restless. After a debriefing session with Loftus and Mace, she wandered into the near-deserted squad room, pacing up and down. With nothing else to do but review what she’d uncovered across the day, she found herself strangely dissatisfied with the outcome. It wasn’t just that Flynn had escaped arrest; she now saw a glaring inconsistency.

Loftus found her at a window, contemplating the night, a dark frown on her face.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘I’m wondering if we’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ said Loftus, stunned. ‘You’ve identified Flynn as the man behind the attacks
,
no doubt about it, caught him virtually red-handed. You profiled him accurately, followed the evidence, located his secret base and exposed his sex crimes background. That’s brilliant detective work. What’s more, the crime lab’s confirmed the Hacker’s prints are all over his computer. I’m beginning to wonder myself if sometimes you’re just perverse.’

‘Thanks, Jack.’

‘Okay, that’s unfair, you’ve had another long day. There’s not much point in hanging around here. Why don’t you go home?’

‘I think I will,’ she said, shouldering her bag.

‘Wait a minute,’ Loftus relented. ‘Tell me first what could possibly make you doubt that Flynn’s our man.’

‘He’s a paedophile, Jack, but the Hacker isn’t. It doesn’t add up.’

‘You’re basing your doubt on textbook psychology, that’s why.’

‘Well it’s not going to hurt to double-check some evidence,’ she said, picking up the nearest phone.

‘Who are you calling?’ asked Loftus suspiciously.

‘Dale Quinn at the crime lab,’ said Rita. ‘Then I’ll go home.

Promise.’

He was on the loose again. Living a split-level existence. But the shock of the confrontation this evening had pushed him further than ever before. It was as if his identity had slipped from his grasp.

Only the bronze mask he was wearing was keeping him intact.

Despite his insomnia and his aching brain he’d achieved a dualistic clarity. In the virtual game he’d dispatched dozens of opponents. In the game of reality he’d decommissioned four - two scarred for life, two dead. Now it was Van Hassel’s turn. The duel was imminent.

He knew she was a fellow warrior, another Shadow Maker, and between them he’d sensed a mutual respect. The more she examined his exploits, the more she would appreciate his skill and power. Now he realised she was positioning herself to subvert and destroy him.

In truth, she was the most dangerous opponent of all and he couldn’t risk leaving her defeat to improvisation. She symbolised a higher level of challenge. That’s why he’d designed a special program, allowing him to stalk her in two worlds at once.

The other casualties, in the lower levels of the blood sport, had been easy. Compliant creatures who’d conspired in their own destruction as he gouged out eyes, ears, tongue and nostrils. But he’d left those levels behind, working his way up from the nether regions of the Underworld, through the circles of hell, to the precincts of the vast underground city. This was where the duel would be played out. This was where Van Hassel would endure her fatal end.

The oracle had whispered in his ear, telling him to go into combat armed with a meat cleaver. The sequence was already keyed in. He’d render her helpless, lying there at his mercy. And when he’d forced his way into her body and vanquished her, he’d mark her with the stigma of defeat. Something suitably extreme to disarm her.

Something time-honoured. Yes. Cutting off her hands would do it.

Though of course he couldn’t leave it at that. Her defeat would be followed by the coup de grace. That too was decided. He would chop out her neck.

He reminded himself.

The game was real - and the real world was the game.

As he manipulated the controls, he sped like a projectile through bronze forests and neon canyons and parabolic causeways. Geometric structures streamed across his retinas in a vortex of lights, the colours of emeralds and rubies and white phosphorus. Flickering symbols.

A delirious rush through a maze of icons. But it was too fast. Too precipitate. He altered his trajectory. Slowed down. Through a crystal channel now, with dim illuminations. Past shadows in alcoves.

Dark figures in the night. Metallic fingers pointing the way. Aliens.

Human holograms. Designer cavemen and women.

He homed in on the target and stopped.

Focused.

Approaching carefully now.

Storm FX kicking in. Strobing veins of electricity. Tectonic rumbles.

And there it was - an open portal.

He accessed it.

Followed the gloomy passageway.

Entered the chamber.