The Delta Chain (42 page)

And then he saw Donnelly, pacing
in and out of view.

‘Is she ready?
’
Donnelly asked.

‘Prepped and ready to
go.
’

Beyond this console, the lab
opened up further into an oval shaped end-wall. A web of tubes and
wires ran to a large instrument panel fitted to the side of an
eight by 10-metre double-glassed tank.

The tank was empty.

Adam heard footsteps and a
whimpering sound. Two men entered the far end of the chamber from
another opening, beyond Adam
’
s view.
Between them they pushed along a girl of no more than eighteen. She
was cowering and teary eyed. And naked.

‘The final phase,
gentlemen,
’
Donnelly announced with a
harsh edge.

It was one of the oldest
clichés in the policing business: the criminal always returns to
the scene of the crime. Despite the advances in investigative
methods, Arthur Kirby had always believed in the gut instincts that
come with experience. From the moment he
’
d rolled out of bed that morning and driven across the
bridge into town, his gut had been throwing up the old
cliché.

As the senior sergeant in
charge, Kirby liked to keep close to the beat of the town. Once a
week he partnered one of his constables on a regular patrol.
He
’
d chosen this morning to ride with
Harrison. Heading over the bridge, his gaze was drawn to the
river.
‘
I
’
m
intrigued by this boy seen diving into the river after being chased
by the men from that van. Since then, no sign of those men or the
van, which was apparently able to be rolled back onto its wheels
and driven away.
’

‘Screwy,
’
Harrison agreed. He hated patrols on days like
this one: a grim sky, lightning, an impending storm.
‘
The rego number was fake and
there
’
s nothing else to go
on.
’

Kirby had brought binoculars and
he trained them, from the elevated stretch of road, down on the
winding river beneath. The annoying thing was that the road veered
gradually away from the line of the waterway.

‘Expecting to see anything
down there?
’
Harrison
wondered.

‘Don
’
t know. Gut
’
s telling me to
look.
’

‘Oh
–
that.
’
Harrison
grinned.

‘Let
’
s go down, on foot, check out the usual fishing
holes.
’

‘You
’
re the boss.
’

Kirby detected his
constable
’
s amused indifference. He
grinned back, a rare thing for Kirby, tapping his right index
finger against his temple.
‘
Intuition.
Probably going to make me look like an old fool.
’

It didn
’
t. A brief walk down to the river
’
s edge and they came across Hughie Jones. Kirby was
acquainted with the elderly fisherman.

‘What
’
re you doing down here?
’
Hughie
grinned.
‘
Spot of fishing while
you
’
re on duty, or do you fellows patrol
the fishing holes now?
’

‘Maybe we should do a bit
of both,
’
Kirby quipped, which Harrison
also found uncharacteristic. But then, he thought, his sergeant was
often out-of-character when he took these patrol rides with his
constables. Go figure.
‘
Seen any friendly
strangers roaming the banks the last day or so?
’
Kirby asked.

‘You must have that ESP
thing going on,
’
Hughie replied, showing
surprise.
‘
Couple of blokes wandered by,
an hour or so ago. Friendly enough, but hadn
’
t seen them before.
’

‘They say
much?
’

‘Oh well…yeah, asked about
some kid they reckon was swimming in the river the other
day.
’

Kirby and Harrison
exchanged glances.
‘
You point them in the
direction of anyone who might
’
ve been
able to help them?
’
Kirby
asked.

‘Only
‘
ol Costas Yannous or young Joey Cail.
You
’
re not going tell me those fellows
are escaped convicts or something?
’

Kirby shot him an
enigmatic glance.
‘
Or something,
’
was all he offered in reply.

Adam drew his pistol, gripping
it tightly as he watched.

The naked girl had been pushed
into the tank through a small door in the side. Then the technician
programmed the various controls. There was the whirring sound of
machinery grinding into action.

Adam
’
s eyes were drawn to the overhead tubes that ran to the
glass chamber. A sound like rushing water came from the tubes. The
echo of rattling, humming pipes was louder now. Adam realised there
was a system of pipes somewhere, running through these caverns,
drawing water either from the general water supply, or maybe from
the ocean, and sending it through the tubes into this tank. With
the girl locked inside it.

‘Shouldn
’
t Hunter be here for the
final run?
’
Casey asked.

‘Hunter
’
s like Westmeyer. A wimp. Doesn
’
t
want to dirty his precious little hands. Just wants the
glory.
’

‘Yeah, okay.
’
The technician waved off the comments,
he
’
d heard them all before.

The water gushed into the
chamber. At first the girl simply stood back against the glass
wall, accepting her fate. But the water filled rapidly and as it
hit the half way mark she looked pleadingly through the glass at
her tormentors. Then she clenched her fists and began to bang them
against the glass with increasing force. Although her voice
couldn
’
t be heard her screaming mouth
formed an elongated “Noooo…”

Adam had seen enough. The
last few seconds had been worth more than hundreds of pages of
witness reports, more than hours of anyone
’
s explanations. Whatever experimental research was being
conducted above on animals was being repeated down here. With
people. Defenceless young kids.

Thoughts flashed through
his mind about the girl found washed in by the storm just over a
week before. Brian
’
s autopsy results:
clenched fists, bruised knuckles; the absence of trace elements of
weed or rock; the naked body, stripped of all I.D.

And now another one
sharing the same fate.
Not
.

Adam stepped out from the
space between the walls and took aim with his pistol.
‘
Turn the water off, Donnelly!
’

Casey spun about in his
seat, visibly shaken. Donnelly turned slowly, face
impassive.
‘
Detective Sergeant Bennett.
Welcome to the Institute sub-level.
’

Horror chamber more like
it, Adam thought.
‘
Turn the water off
now!
’

The two men
who
’
d placed the girl in the tank had
also turned. Neither spoke. They looked on with a certain
detachment. They were strangers here too, Adam realised. Members of
the croc gang. Although they were motionless, Adam sensed they were
ready to pounce, and he felt a pang of insecurity. He was
outnumbered.

But he had his finger on
the trigger. He
’
d shoot if he had to and
he was certain now he was going to have to.

Donnelly nodded to Casey, whose
hand moved back over the console keyboard. Almost immediately the
water filling the tank slowed as the water coursing through the
tubes stopped.

‘Unlatch the door, then
move back,
’
Adam instructed the man
standing nearest the tank.
‘
Now
!
’

The door was unlatched and
opened. The water filling the bottom half of the tank flowed
out.

‘Everyone up against the
wall.
’
Adam moved forward. Coming closer,
he recognised the face of the man who
’
d
opened the tank door. It was the face of the crewman photographed
on the hunters
’
boat by Jean
Farrow
’
s son. That picture had been
amongst the many items poured over by the task force.

There was a maze of
corridors surrounding the lab, one of which led to the
building
’
s rear dock.

Half lifting, half
dragging the drugged Daniel from the van, Erickson and Tannen were
halfway along the walkway when they heard Adam
’
s voice. It was quite clear, an echo bouncing along the
cavern walls.

‘What the hell…?
’
Erickson
’
s voice
trailed off.
‘
Leave the boy,
’
he said to Tannen, gesturing for him to follow.
They moved past the lift doors and came up behind Adam.

This time it was Erickson who
drew a gun.

Weighed down with anxiety,
Kate returned to Stephen
’
s lab, hoping he
was back. She needed to talk to Reardon about her discovery, but
while she waited for him to reappear she still wanted to tackle
Hunter about his affair with Rhonda
–
and
about his experiments on the mice. Rounding the corridor she heard
Westmeyer
’
s booming voice:
‘
Take a break, guys, while we show our visitors
the work here.
’

Kate stepped back and
smiled at the two lab assistants as they passed her.
‘
Stephen
’
s back but
he
’
s in a private meeting now,
’
one of them said.

She shrugged
good-humouredly.
‘
Guess
I
’
ll try again later.
’

Once
they
’
d gone, Kate checked the
corridor
–
empty
–
then moved to the lab entrance. Before using her security
card to gain entry through the sliding doors, Kate peered through
the glass. Stephen was in his office, leaning against his desk.
Westmeyer was there, together with two of the dark suited men
who
’
d arrived earlier. Potential
investors.

Or were they? If nothing
else here was what it seemed, then it stood to reason the
“potential investors” weren
’
t either. So
who were they?

Hunter
’
s office backed on to the corridor space that housed the
rear “goods” lift. Adam was due back, returning from that lift, any
time. Kate followed the corridor to the spot outside the rear of
the office. Pressing her ear to the walls here she could hear the
voices of the men quite clearly.

There was a finality to
Asquith
’
s tone as he addressed
Hunter:
‘
We
’
re
installing a series of explosives throughout the Institute and
it
’
s important to me
you
’
re across everything
that
’
s happening here, Stephen. Your
continued role with Delta Chain is vital.

‘Once the explosives are
activated, the building will collapse in on itself. Destruction
will be total. There
’
s a threefold
benefit to this
–
firstly, the sub-level
will be completely sealed off. And as no one knows of its existence
there won
’
t be anyone digging to find it.
Even if this blasted task force
’
s
suspicions about the activity here causes additional digging, the
sub-level and everything in it will have been crushed.

‘Secondly, there will be
little enough left for anyone to find anything that threatens
exposure of Nexus. And third, responsibility for the bombing will
be claimed by an international anti-science, terrorist group called
Back To Basics, or the BTB group as various Federal agencies call
them. You know of them?
’

‘Of course,
’
said Westmeyer.
‘
Involved in a number of senseless acts over the years,
including that big one, recently, in Russia…
’

‘An oceanographic
institute the terrorists claimed was conducting genetic experiments
on dolphins,
’
Hunter recalled.
‘
But what have they got to do with
this?
’

‘You
’
ll make it appear they
’
re the
ones responsible,
’
Westmeyer
guessed.

‘There is no Back To
Basics,
’
Asquith revealed with a smug
expression. 'It
’
s an imaginary group
created by Nexus to take the blame in scenarios such as this, where
we need to perform an act of destruction on one of our own bases,
or that of a competitor.
’