Three Weeks Last Spring (15 page)

Exhaustion overcame
her as her sobs slowly subsided. S
he finally fell asleep curled up on the cold bathroom floor.

Debbie phoned the cabin
and failed to get an answer. S
he wasn't unduly worried.
After her conversation with Skye that afternoon and her somewhat unexpected news, she wasn't surprised that Skye needed some space.
She
found
it hard to believe what Skye had told her—that she
ha
d been on a date with Walker, and more amazingly, had welcomed him into her bed.
What a
turnaround
!
He must be one smooth operator to have gained Skye's trust so completely and so fast
.

Debbie knew that ever since
her
encounter with Michael,
Skye ha
d avoid
ed
going on a date with a guy.
What made Walker different?
Debbie searched her brief memory of the man.
He hadn't argued with
Skye
the night they'd all met, neither had he openly pursued Skye in Debbie's presence.
He didn't come over as a ladies' man either, and he certainly wasn't someone who wou
ld always try
to impress.

Besides, there was something mysterious about
him
.
For one thing, he was always asking questions, but rarely divulged any information about himself, and in that respect, he was rather like Skye.
Walker
appeared to have
a sixth sense were
her friend
was concerned, for he had an uncanny habit of turning up when least expected which Skye found infuriating.
They say opposites attract, but Debbie knew those who are
alike spark much greater fire.

What if she had
stepped
in and give
n
fate a helping hand to bring them together?
It had worked, hadn't it?
Walker was just what Skye needed to finally get over Michael and move on.

Debbie smile
d
as she remembered the look on Skye's face when she
realize
d
she’d been out
man
o
euvered
yet again.
She’d had never seen Skye so mad, but knew
sh
e wouldn't stay angry forever.
It wasn't in her nature.
No, her instincts were right all along, and now that
Skye and Walker had
put their antagonism towards each other to one side, sparks must have positively flown for them to connect in such a primitive way.

But Michael was different.
The mere thought of mentioning him and Walker in the same breath, made Debbie shudder.
She'd never met the man, and was glad she never would.
During the time he and Skye corresponded, Michael sent Skye numerous photographs of himself from exotic locations in far-flung corners of the world.
Skye in turn had forwarded them to her.
Debbie could tell Michael had an international love affair with the camera, and there was something about his fake cold smile that made her
stomach tighten and skin crawl.

Despite her warnings, Michael had worm
ed
his way into her friend’s affections with his overtly romantic letters and Skye had fallen for the sickly sweet bait.
Debbie doubted that Skye was the first woman Michael had succeeded in seducing with h
is smooth ways and glib tongue.

While she couldn't begin to imagine what Michael had done to Skye during her visit last May, she could never forgive him for transforming her friend from a happy, self-assured young woman into someone who jumped at the slightest noise.
The man was a grade ‘A’ son-of-a-bitch, and if she ever set eyes on him, she'd do him some major harm.

Disgusted by her thoughts, Debbie glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time that evening
.
She
pressed redial
.
But there was still no answer
from the cabin
.
She looked at the photo of her and Skye on her desk, and
felt
worried.

She fleetingly wondered whether to buzz John, but dismissed it as a bad idea.
After all, what could he do from six thousand miles away?
No more than her, that was certain.
She'd try once more before going to bed.
If there
were
still no answer, she
woul
d assume that Walker had turned up unexpectedly and whisked Skye off for a romantic dinner, and in that case would
ring
in the morning.

***

Skye stretched her cramped body, and winced with pain as the blood flowed into her stiff limbs.
Shivering violently from lying on the cold bathroom floor, she rubbed life back into her cramped leg muscles.
She placed a hand on the washbasin to steady herself, and slowly
got
to her feet.
God, she felt awful.
Her head ached abominably.
She felt physically sick and her teeth chattered from the cold.
Every movement was an effort, and if she turned her head too qu
ickly the room spun alarmingly.

Instinct told her she needed to get warm.
Reaching over the tub, she turned the faucet on and ran a hot bath.
Her fingers were so numb, that
sh
e found it almost impossible to undo the buttons of her shirt.
When impatience got the better of her, she yanked it off over her head.
She peeled off h
er jeans and underwear,
and
stepped
into the deep steaming tub.
Submerging herself in the hot water as far as her chin, she closed her eyes and tried to relax as the warmth slowly seeped back into her chilled body.
The shuddering slowed,
and then
ceased.

Some twenty minutes later,
wrapped
in her bathrobe,
sh
e
padded
in
to the kitchen to make a hot drink.
Although she felt warmer, less seismic, and reasonably human, her head still throbbed horribly.
But the feeling of nausea had passed.
It was dark outside and in her confused state
she
assumed it was early evening, but when s
he glanced at the digital clock
hanging on the wall over the sink, she was astonished to see that it was three-twenty
a.m
.
She'd been out cold for
the best part of twelve hours.

Skye leaned against the worktop
and
sipped her scalding tea
,
realiz
ing
she had done this before.
It had been the night she'd finally managed to get away from Michael.
On that occasion she
ha
d found a nondescript hotel in downtown Seattle, somewhere she was sure he wouldn't look for her.
She remembered closing and bolting the dismal door and collapsing onto the bed, at which point her body had closed down, sinking her into a sleep so deep, that she di
dn't wake
from
until two days later.

But what
had caused it to happen again?

Skye rubbed her aching temples, but still couldn't remember.
Her mind was a total blank and the more she tried to force the memory, the more frustrated she became.
What she needed now, was sleep.
Perhaps when
her
headache had gone, her memory would return.

On her way to the bedroom, she passed the phone.
She had a vague recollection of talking to Debbie, but the details of their conversation remained out of reach on the edge of her mind.
She remembered Walker being called away on business and waiting for him to call, but nothing else until she'd
come to on the bathroom floor.

Turning off the lights as she went, Skye stumbled towards the bedroom.
She was completely drained and exhausted but
took
two painkillers anyway before slipping under the soft quilt.
As soon as her head touched the pillow, she fel
l into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Over on the mainland, Walker felt under mounting pressure.
The simultaneous break-ins resulted in immense problems.
His reputation as a hard hitter in the world of environmental issues was fast going down the toilet.
Until he arranged for the damaged equipment to be replaced, Walker Environmental Research was effectively out of business.
He also needed to track down whoever was
out
to ruin him.
The former had been relatively easy to rectify with a mere phone call, but the latter was proving almost impossible.
The police's lack of progress in arresting anyone only fr
ustrate
d
and anger
ed
him further.

When he wasn't at his desk fending off phone calls from prospective clients, he was over at the labs trying to sort out the chaos.
The daily commute across the city didn't do anyt
hing to help his temper either.

But the break-ins weren't the only thing on Walker's mind.
He felt guilty
for
not keeping his word to Skye.
He hadn't called her once since leaving the island two days earlier and the only excuse he could offer was that he just hadn't had time.
It sounded feeble even to him.
But until his business problems were resolved he had no choice other than to put his personal life on hold.
Ironically, there was nothing new in that.
In the past it wouldn't have bothered him, as his date would accept his sudden departure and be waiting with open arms for his return, or would have moved on.
Either way, he wouldn't have been too concerned.
He surely wouldn't have
felt guilty.
This time he did.

No matter what he d
id, he just couldn't get Skye
out of his mind.
He could have—should have—explain
ed
.
Instead he'd acted like a jerk and walked out the door without so much as a word or a backward glance.
Now wasn't the time to fully
analy
s
e
his feelings, but
he
admi
t
t
ed
that he'd been wrong
to
walk away as if he didn't care.
He did, and right now he'd settle for seeing her smiling face an
d holding her in his arms again
.

Whatever happened, he
had
to return to Friday Harbor before Skye's vacation
ended
.
He couldn't let her fly out of the country and out of his life without so much as a simple ‘goodbye.’
But first he had to find a way to
apologiz
e
for his sudden departure.
But how?
And, more importantly, would Skye be as understanding as she'd implied?
It would serve him right if she slammed the door in his face.
He deserved it for being a complete and total fool.

In a rare moment of solitude, Walker considered his options.
He didn't think Skye
was
the type to accept expensive jewel
l
ry as a peace offering and dismissed the idea of having something couriered to her.
Flowers?
Anyone could give flowers.
Skye deserved something better.
In that case, he'd make a reservation at the
Duck Soup Inn
.
Skye would surely enjoy its old world charm.
Or maybe he'd surprise her and fly her over to Seattle and drive her up to one of the lodges at Snoqualmie Falls in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains.
The scenery would be spectacular at this time of year.
Yeah, that's what he'd do.
He'd book them into the best suite the
Salish Lodge
had to offer, and hope that dramatic mountain scenery, stunning waterfall, and the romantic and elegant lodge would get their relationship back on track.

His decision made, he turned his attention back
to
his problems.
He knew he should be grateful that no one was hurt in the robberies and there were no more reports of fish washing up on the island beaches or
in
Puget Sound.
But, he wasn't.
The laboratories were in such a mess that it was hard to tell what was missing and what wasn't.
Yesterday he'd assigned two members of staff to catalogue all the undamaged slides, a task that would take them the best part of a week.
By then he would know for sure if any of the evidence he'd collected over the last few months had been stolen.
His gut instinct told him it would be missing, confirming his suspicions of a link between the break-ins and the ill
egal dumping of chemical waste.

He'd almost given up of hearing anything positive from the cops, when they called with confirmation that
the break-ins had been carried out by someone wearing gloves.

Not content with breaking-in, the thieves had accessed the main computer.
They
ha
d trawled through the system, opening and closing files until they'd located the information they wanted.
But r
ather than deleting every file, the thieves had infected the system with a malicious virus, which slowly ate its way through the tattered network.

He
set up a meeting with one of the University of Washington's top IT experts hoping to salvage something—anything—from the hard drives.
Half an hour into the meeting, he knew he'd wasted his time.
Cyber crime, the bespectacled geek
informed
him, was a huge problem, targeting not only conventional businesses, but also the newer E-commerce or dot.com businesses too.
By the time
Walker had
listened to a detailed explanation of the issues involved
he
knew
that finding a solution wasn't going to be as easy.
When terms such as ‘viruses,’ ‘worms’ and ‘Trojan
horses’ were mentioned Walker frowned
.
As far as he was concerned a virus was something he caught and worms lived in soil
.

The expert knew he’d
lost his audience and tried to simplify his explanation.
Before any software could be developed to eradicate a virus it first had to be identified, then an understanding of how it spread from one program to another or from file-to-file had to be gained.
When the geek started discussing ‘exploits,’ ‘script kiddies’, and ‘spoofs’, Walker's eyes rolled back in his head.
One thing he did understand all too clearly was that the Internet was a perfect hiding place for anyone with malicious intent.
When it came to developing anti-virus software and tracking the hacker, not only
was it
exceptionally complicated, but also incredibly time consuming.
In othe
r words there was no quick fix.

As he reached the door, Walker turned and asked one last question.
"I know it's a long shot, but by any chance
have you
of heard of a Dr
.
Ridge.
I don’t know his first name.
But if you have, would you know how I could contact him?"

"The name is familiar; let me think."
The computer expert adjusted his glasses,
and then
tapped his temple.
"I remember now, I attended a seminar last year.
The guest speaker was James or John Ridge
.
Arrogant and outspoken… that's him.
He made all sorts of claims about his abilities and the software he was developing.
W
hether
he
can back them up, remains to be seen.
Sounded like a load of hogwash to me."

Walker felt as if all his Christmases had come at once.
He'd found someone who had not only heard of, but had actually seen Ridge.

"That's great.
Do y
ou know how I can contact him?"

"Sorry, no.
These software developers are all the same, they tend to keep very much to themselves.
He's English on top of it all, and they're against sharing information at the best of times—no team spirit.
I suppose you could try the
organiz
er
of the seminar, but I don't recall who that was, I'm afraid."

His hopes dashed yet again, Walker began to think this Ridge character was a figment of everyone's imagination.
I
f he was going to stand any chance of stopping this or any future cyber crime against his company then he needed someone who developed software that identified individual machines and users by their IP addresses, whatever that meant.
And according to McCabe's contact, and now this expert, the only person who fit this particular bill was the elusive Dr Ridge.
But where the on the planet was he?

Frustrated, Walker felt as if everyone was conspiring against him.
Other than the out of date article in the magazine, no one
could
tell him how to contact Ridge.
What was it with the guy?
Why couldn't he be listed in the phone book like normal people?
But then, if he was in Ridge's shoes and about to make millions of dollars from writing software that could potentially put an end to computer crime, he
wouldn’t
want to be listed in the phone book either.
Come to thin
k of it, he'd probably hire a
bodyguard because if
Ridge’s
name weren't on a hit list already it sure would be when
the software became available.

Back in his apartment,
Walker
paced the floor.
At least he had one less worry now that the damaged
equipment had been replaced and
security increased.
Walker Environmental Research would re-open for business in the morning
,
and about time too.
Three days down time had not only cost him financially, but it had also affected his company's reputation.
It would entail a major PR campaign and a lot of effort on his part to
restore faith in his abilities.

For the time being at least, there was no real reason for him to remain in Seattle
, but
he
decided against returning to the lodge that night, as h
e'd had little rest since leaving the island.
He woul
d check in with McCabe in the morning to make sure there were no new developments and then fly back to Friday Harbor in the afternoon.
And then he’d call Skye.
Hopefully she
'd be pleased to hear from him.