The Delta Chain (12 page)

She wasn’t hungry, not after the smorgasbord
lunch. She poured a glass of white wine and sat cross-legged on her
sofa with her laptop.

Going to her email she found the file sent by
Betty.

Ronda Lagan’s diary filled her screen. Kate
entered the date Ronda began her assignment at Northern Rocks, then
scrolled through from there, skipping the everyday details, looking
for key words or passages that related to the workplace.

Something she hadn’t expected caught her
eye.

“May 10: Stephen Hunter showed a lot of
interest in my work today. Asked a lot of questions about IT and
how we develop systems. Not what I expected of a research
scientist, very handsome, almost a bit of a rogue.”

Not almost, thought Kate. She scrolled
on.

Before she knew it she was reading another
entry about Stephen Hunter.

“May 20: Stephen asked me out today and I
actually said yes. I must be nuts. I’m sure he’s something of a
devil, but I really like him. Never imagined he’d be interested in
me.”

“May 21: Stephen took me to a lovely Thai
restaurant. Later, we went strolling along the promenade. It was
unseasonably balmy so we kicked off our shoes and sat on the sand
and talked for hours. I don’t know what he could possibly see in me
but we seem to be on the same wavelength. I really think we
clicked.”

Rhonda and Stephen?

He never mentioned any of this to me.

Maybe there wasn’t any more, maybe there
wasn’t anything to tell. Her curiosity piqued, Kate scrolled on.
Rhonda had seen him again socially on the 23
^rd
and the
24
^th
. And then-

“May 25: Slept with Stephen tonight and it
was wonderful. Something incredible is happening. I never expected
to come to Northern Rocks and fall in love with an American
scientist.”

In love? Kate’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t
recall Stephen even being at Rhonda’s funeral.

What kind of man was he, Kate wondered, that
he’d dated and slept with Rhonda Lagan, yet not travelled to
Brisbane for her funeral? He hadn’t even mentioned the relationship
less than a few months later, to Kate, when they’d dated.

Kate scrolled on, reminding herself she
didn’t want personal info to divert her from the real purpose: to
find out if there was any mention here about the virus.

“May 28: Two weeks ago a couple of desktop
PC’s were brought to me with memory and speed problems. Normally
I’d go to where the machines were located and work from there, but
I was told the PC’s were about to be shifted to new spots anyway.
No reason I would’ve thought any more of that. But, fact is, I
haven’t seen those PC’s anywhere around the building and today the
same technician brought another machine for repairs, using the same
story. When I asked where that machine was being shifted to, he
couldn’t tell me. Seems odd.”

“June 1: No evidence of that PC, or the two
previous ones, coming into use on the Institute’s network.
Strange?”

“June 2:Another PC brought in by the
technician (I don’t know his name and rarely see him about), for
sorting out a software glitch. Easy fix but I’m curious. At a
discreet distance I followed the technician once he carried the
machine off. He caught the lift down. All that’s down there is the
lobby, the security office, the finance section and the parking
station. I took the stairs down but there was no sign of the
technician. I asked security and the receptionist but they hadn’t
seen the technician. Weird? Or am I just over-imagining? I’ll ask
Stephen, see what he thinks.”

“June 3: Spoke to Stephen today about the
mystery computers. (He thinks management are probably setting up
another admin section somewhere in the building.)”

“June 4: William Westmeyer called me to his
office. He’s very happy with the new DataStorming program. Feeling
good. This is a good gig, Stephen’s terrific, I love it here.”

Had Rhonda been thinking of staying on in
Northern Rocks?

“June 5: Terrible, awful day. Someone must
know my password because while I was out my PC was compromised. Who
would do that? And why? I couldn’t find Westmeyer so I reported it
to Tony Collosimo. Then I arrived home and found my flat burgled.
TV and VCR gone. Luckily, I had my laptop with me. The police took
down all the details, said it was a typical break-in, but something
feels very odd about all this. Tried to phone Stephen but he wasn’t
at home. Don’t think I’ll sleep tonight.”

And a further entry on the same day: “Betty’s
on leave this week and James is away on business. I’ll wait until
they’re back. They’ll know how to handle it from here.”

Kate felt a lump in her throat and swallowed
hard. She knew that Ronda never had the chance to have such a
discussion with either James or Betty.

“June 6: Where’s Stephen? He wasn’t at the
Institute today. No answer at his apartment, Westmeyer’s out of
town. Feeling unsettled. Tony will let me know if he learns
anything about the break-in. Depressing day but at least I
implemented my little plan. I’ve made a call to the local council,
organised a copy of the Institute design plans.”

That was it. No more. And the last entry had
been jumbled. What had Rhonda meant by her “little plan.” There was
no reference anywhere to the virus.

Kate felt a sudden chill – she presumed
Rhonda had written those words in the evening - the same night
Rhonda died when her car went over the side of the cliff.

Why was Rhonda out driving later that night?
Kate’s eyes welled with tears, something that surprised her. She
hadn’t known Rhonda very well. She’d been saddened to hear of her
colleague’s death. But reading these words, “…depressing day…’, the
last day and the last words of Rhonda’s life, it was as though the
full weight of the tragedy bore down on Kate for the first time.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, soft, cool reminders of the
fragility of life.

Kate reached for her notepad and jotted down
two actions she intended to take. The first, to ask Collosimo if
he’d followed up on Rhonda’s report about the password breach. The
second, to obtain the council approved design plans that Ronda had
wanted.

What had Rhonda been looking for?

The doorbell buzzed. It was Adam, as she
expected, and as she ushered him in she noted his strained
expression. ‘Bad day?’

‘Didn’t need to be.’ He flopped down on the
sofa. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve ever enjoyed this job since
Kirby’s been boss.’

‘Still bugs you big time, eh?’

‘It’s part of his job description.’

‘And you don’t really know why?’

‘No.’

Kate slipped her hand into his. ‘There’s
something I want to show you.’ She positioned the laptop so that he
could see the diary entry on the screen. ‘I’ve been reading through
Rhonda Lagan’s diary.’

His eyes, though weary, showed his surprise.
‘Rhonda …?’

She explained her theory: that Ronda seemed
the most likely person to have introduced a tailor made virus to
the Institute’s network, and that the virus first appeared two days
after her death. She told him how Rhonda’s personal diary,
mysteriously deleted from her PC, was automatically backed up at
A.B.C.S.

Adam listened with interest, looking on as
Kate showed him certain key passages.

‘What do you think?’ Kate asked.

Adam went quiet for a moment, staring
intently at the words on the monitor. ‘I agree it seems unusual.
But Kate, there’s no real evidence. It’s a hell of a leap to think
this virus, and the computers she couldn’t trace, and the burglary,
are all somehow linked and are maybe even tied in with her car
crash.’

‘I suppose you’re right. You think I should
stop looking into it, don’t you?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Kate brightened. ‘You do think it’s worth
investigating further?’

‘I don’t think there’s any harm in looking
over design plans or in asking the security guy about the security
breach.’

‘What about the break-in at her
apartment?’

‘I attended that crime scene. Nothing out of
the ordinary as far as burglaries go.’

‘Did you find fingerprints?’

Adam smiled. ‘Professional thieves tend to
wear gloves, Kate. We checked, of course, but nothing useful.’

Kate shrugged, her face reddening. ‘Okay,
okay, naïve comment, but I’m not exactly a hardened detective like
you.’

‘Hardened?’

She leaned in toward him, gave his nose a
friendly tweak. ‘Yes, hardened.’ She grinned. Both were grateful
for the lightening of the moment. ‘You look incredibly tired, and I
know I am. We should both get an early night.’

‘Agreed. I have an early start. On the road
by six AM.’

‘On the road?’

‘I’m driving into Brisbane with Brian
Markham, visiting a Dr. Sukumoto at the University.’ Briefly, he
sketched in details of the “mermaid” case and the facial
reconstruction work. ‘Then, I’m dropping in at the Department of
Meteorology on related business.’ He didn’t explain about the
coastal charts he was accessing.

‘Then I guess you’d better be going.’

‘I guess I’d better.’

They shared a long, lingering kiss at the
front door, neither wanting the moment or the evening to end…

A kiss that goes on longer than at first
expected. Kate’s mouth exploring his with a sudden urgency. She
realised she was starting to hate these moments when they
parted.

Adam’s body responded to the kiss and to the
scent of her skin.

‘I thought you were going.’

‘I am.’

‘Wish you didn’t have to…’

‘Same here.’

‘But you’re tired…’

‘Yeah. Early, early start.’ His mouth pressed
hard against hers again, tiredness swept away, hidden energy drawn
out by the surge of passion.

She pulled him back inside the apartment,
pushing the door closed.

‘What’s this?’

‘While we’re still kissing, I like privacy.
Old fashioned that way.’

He held her close and she allowed her body to
mould with the contours of his.

‘Actually I feel a little guilty,’ she said,
coming up for air. ‘You came over here tired and all frustrated
about that sergeant guy, needing to relax. And I hit you with my
work problems and this Rhonda theory thing of mine.’

‘Well, the kiss makes up for it, consider the
slate wiped clean.’ Their lips met again, a long, slow kiss, mouths
exploring still deeper, hands roaming now in a natural rhythm of
light caresses over each other’s bodies.

‘And I thought you were going.’

‘I am.’

‘I thought you were tired-’

‘Was
tired.’ His hand moved inside her
blouse. Soft strokes.

‘Now you’re getting sexy,’ she whispered,
breaths coming in short bursts, heart drumming like a percussive
instrument come alive. She moaned, a dry, throaty sound, her
fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he deftly manoeuvred her blouse up
and over her head. Clothes were shed swiftly and easily as they
shifted toward the bedroom, the tensions of the day finally left
far behind, tomorrow’s expectations temporarily out of mind.

Later they lay, limbs entwined, sated in the
afterglow. ‘You know,’ Kate said, ‘that night we met…our first
date…’

‘Yes?’

‘This is shameful, admitting this.’ She
flashed a cheeky grin. ‘I particularly wanted to date you because
you were a cop.’

‘So this is all because I’m some kind of
authority figure?’

‘No. Of course not. Once we got together, hit
it off the way we did…it was just at first, the night you came to
the Institute, we flirted a bit, and I thought that…’ She threw her
head back and laughed. ‘I
cannot
believe I’m telling you
this.’

‘You already said that.’

‘No I didn’t.’

‘Well, something like that…shameful
admitting…’

‘Anyway, no matter what I thought, I’m glad
we got together.’

‘You’d like me even if I wasn’t a cop?’

‘Now you’re getting the gist of it.’

‘I like it when you…when you’re open like
this.’

‘I’m being too honest.’

‘Actually I’m finding it incredibly
sexy.’

‘Trust
a policeman to think honesty is
sexy.’

‘Hey, no policeman jokes. Don’t we have an
agreement or something on that?’

Her lips brushed his, hair falling across her
face. ‘Guess what, Mr. Authority Figure, Little Miss Honest is
getting very horny again…’

Detective Superintendent Ron O’Malley strode
from the lift and into the reception area of Brisbane Police HQ,
and shook hands firmly with Adam and Markham. O’Malley had a solid
build and the look of an ex-fighter – a broken nose and steely hair
cropped short.

‘Welcome to the big smoke, gentlemen.’
O’Malley’s slight brogue gave him the air of a mischievous Irish
imp. ‘Neck’s not too sore then?’

‘Our necks?’

‘From cranin’ to look at the skyscrapers.’
O’Malley laughed heartily. ‘Sorry, can’t resist the redneck
jokes.’

‘We’re getting too many skyscrapers of our
own in Northern Rocks,’ Markham said, returning the smile.

‘Well, tourist town, isn’t it? If you’re
doing well then sooner or later the developers move in with big
bucks and big earthmovers. Once they start circling, they’re like
vultures.’ O’Malley led them to the lifts, and then to his spacious
but cluttered office on the second floor. ‘So tell me, Adam, is
Arthur Kirby giving you a hard time up there?’

Adam cocked his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What
makes you say that?’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ O’Malley lowered
his bulky frame into his chair. ‘Because he always has, that’s his
way. With you younger guys especially.’

‘Why’s that?’

O’Malley shrugged. ‘I’ve bumped into Arthur
on and off over the years. He’s been stationed at a few precincts,
this one among them. Good cop, runs a clean, smart department. But
I happen to know that in his earlier days he had a hankering to be
a detective. Trouble is, he never made the grade and remained
instead, an excellent senior sergeant. Nothing wrong with that but
I think the older he got, the harder his attitude toward the young
detectives on the force. Then, a few years back his wife upped and
left him for a young bloke.’