The Delta Chain (40 page)

Adam went to the left. He
’
d noticed a narrow recess, almost an alcove, where the corridor broadened into a larger chamber. He pushed himself as far as possible into the alcove, and peered out from there into the area beyond.

Benches against walls, cluttered with hardware, gave the appearance of a lab that had been transported to a medieval cavern. Overhead lights flooded the room, strangely at odds with the subterranean rock of the walls and ceiling.

A long bench in the middle of the chamber was also stacked with terminals.

Past this, another work area, this time with smaller benches and scattered chairs. Desktop printers spewed forth reams of figures. There was a sound Adam couldn
’
t identify, a low hum but with a rough edge to it, like the rattle of pipes. Adam didn
’
t know what to make of any of it. In its own way it reminded him of certain country police outposts he
’
d seen a few years ago, older style buildings, only partly renovated, with areas of sophisticated new equipment gradually spreading out, invading all the spaces.

There was a man seated at the console, his back to Adam. Seeing just part of the man
’
s head, Adam recognised him as a technician he
’
d seen around the Institute. He didn
’
t know who he was and he hadn
’
t known what section he
’
d worked in. Now he knew, just as he knew that the PC
’
s brought to Rhonda and Kate for various repairs, had been from down here.

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?
’