The Sapporo Outbreak (5 page)

"Now Ben, tell me what this 'odd little issue' was that kept you away from me, and then I'll tell you about my breaking news. Maybe we can compare stories and see who wins - once I think of a nice prize." Santos eyes sparkled. Was she flirting with him? Skinner certainly hoped so.

Skinner relaxed a little and glanced through the wall of glass and across the Potomac River toward the Kennedy Center. Christmas lights twinkled on the trees while the snow lay thick on the river bank. The capital really did put on a show at this time of the year.

"Ok - well mine is a little weird. To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure what to make of it. I was leaving Homeland, ahead of schedule for tonight's dinner..." Skinner threw a cheeky grin toward Santos, who smiled and rolled her eyes. "I'll take your word on that Professor. Go on."

Skinner continued. "And Andrew Morris from Homeland stopped by for a 'chat'."

"Morris?" Santos voice raised an octave. "If he's involved, it's something pretty big. What did he want?"

"That's where it gets a little strange. He wanted to talk about Tanaka, and WhiteStar."

Appearing more shocked at the news than Skinner had expected, Santos leaned back and shook her head. Skinner couldn't help notice her thick dark hair falling over her bare brown shoulders. "Focus Ben!"

Santos paused briefly and without realising, lowered her tone to a whisper. "Why the hell would Homeland be poking around Tanaka? We've been working with him for 18 months, and between the two of us, we'd surely have noticed if he was something other than a super-wealthy tech nerd."

Skinner nodded. "I know. I've been mulling it over for the last couple of hours. Morris said Homeland was concerned about the sort of technology WhiteStar were buying, and even..." Skinner paused as if what he would say next was ridiculous. "...The new game!"

Santos was incredulous. "Homeland Security sees the new iSight game as a risk to national security?" She shook her head. This was madness.

Skinner leaned forward. "Ok Eva, now it's your turn to..." Skinner stopped. His phone was vibrating, which was odd. He'd set it to VIP-only mode, and couldn't think of a good reason why anyone would call this late in the evening.
 

Santos flicked her head to the side. "Ben - what's wrong?"

"Sorry. Someone's calling, and it's set to VIP. Do you mind if I take this?"

"Not all all, go ahead." Santos leaned back, and at that a handsome young waiter glided toward her and topped up her wine glass.

Skinner turned sideways on his chair, facing directly out across the glassy Potomac, pressed the phone to his ear and whispered "Answer." Pause. "Hello, this is Ben Skinner."

Skinner instantly recognised the voice. "Ben, it's Alex Hill. Sorry to bother you so late, but I have a very big favour to ask."

"Alex, this isn't a great time. Can this wait until tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid not Ben. Mr Tanaka has asked that you join him in Japan. The game is very close to launch, and he'd very much appreciate you taking one last look at things before it goes live."

Skinner was stunned. "Japan? When Alex? I'm in DC right now, and have to be back at the University in a few days time. And what about Dr Santos?" On hearing her name, Santos turned from her discussion with the waiter and looked questioningly at Skinner. The phone pressed to his ear, he gave a confused shrug and turned back to scanning the icy cold river outside.
 

"Actually Ben, I know all that. Given how eager Mr Tanaka is for this to happen, I've taken the liberty of organising things with the University board. Mr Tanaka has made what I can only describe as a remarkably generous donation to the University in return for one week of your time. The board has asked that I pass on their gratitude to you for making this possible, and that you have their full support."

A little aggravated, Skinner replied. "What about Dr Santos? If we're looking into the behavioural elements of the game, then she'd need to come too."

"I understand that Ben." Skinner could hear the stress in Hill's voice. He was clearly under a lot of pressure to make this trip happen. "But Ben, I talked to Dr Santos a little earlier..." Skinner glanced up at Santos, who was staring at him, pleading with her eyes for him to get off the phone. Hill continued "...and Ben, she's agreed to the trip on the condition that you attend. In fact, WhiteStar have already organised cars for both you and Ms Santos, and they are waiting outside the restaurant as I speak.
 
So you see Ben, everything's lined up."

Santos leaned forward, touched Skinner on the arm and slid a napkin forward. Skinner looked down. Santos had written "My news? Going to Japan, but only if you are too!" Skinner looked up from the napkin and lost himself in the dark brown eyes twinkling back at him. Santos smiled and slowly nodded.
 

Hill's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Ben - everything's organised. I just need you to say yes."
 

#

Immediately following his conversation with Hill, Skinner's phone buzzed again. An email from Hill confirmed Tanaka's offer to fund the university's entire research efforts for a decade, confirmation that his already generous consulting rate for this engagement would be tripled, and finally detailed travel instructions.
 

Santos and Skinner were to join Hill in three hours' time at Ronald Reagan Washington Airport on board WhiteStar's Corporate jet. They would stopover in Seattle to pickup another consultant, and then together they would fly on to the heart of the WhiteStar gaming network in Sapporo, North Japan.

Skinner placed his phone face down on the table and looked across at Santos. Her face was strained, worried as if somehow he would blame her for the turn of events.

Skinner smiled. "Well Eva, maybe now's a good time to hear your news!"

The tension broken, Santos could feel the relief washing over her as she beamed back at Skinner.

"Ben - I got the call from Alex on my way here. I was going to tell you right after you'd finished telling me about your Homeland Security meeting. I don't know why, but I was worried you'd be annoyed at me for not saying something sooner."

Skinner shook his head, a little dazed by the turn of events. "The one person I don't hold responsible for this is you. To be honest, the only reason I'm even going is because of you."

Santos blushed, and Skinner's heart soared at her reaction. Maybe she did feel the same way.

After a hurried conversation with a bemused Maitre d', Skinner and Santos wrapped up tight in their thick winter coats and gloves and hustled out through the snow, past the enormous Christmas tree and dancing water fountain to their respective cars. Two gleaming black limited edition Lexus sat side by side. Their hydrogen-powered engines silent, the only sound distant music from the restaurant and the crunch of fresh snow underfoot.

As they approached the cars the driver doors were flung open, and a chauffeur from each car appeared. Under their watchful gaze and the sub-zero clear winter's sky, Skinner started to talk, only to be stopped in his tracks as Santos kissed him lightly on the cheek. "See you in a few hours - then next stop Japan!" she beamed, before disappearing into the car.

As he gingerly navigated the icy sidewalk to his car, Skinner glanced again at both drivers. Trained over years to notice little details, Skinner's sharp eye observed a familiar lean efficiency to their movement and the way they constantly, subtly, scanned the surrounding area. He was impressed by the smooth, unspoken way they coordinated their movements. To most people, they would appear as bored drivers working the nightshift, but Skinner saw something very different. Acting as one, the first driver scanned the north and east while the second kept a watchful eye over the south and west. Judging from the way they moved, they could handle themselves. Both were carrying concealed weapons, one driver left handed, the other right. Skinner guessed the pistols were 9mm semi-automatic Glock 17s. Effective, reliable and the preferred weapon for special forces. And these guys were almost certainly ex-special forces.
 

As he bundled himself into the waiting car's soft leather heated seats, Skinner was intrigued. In a town were everything was expensive, WhiteStar had sent the single most expensive solution; top of the range cars driven by top of the range bodyguards.
 

Skinner knew Tanaka well enough to know that the man did everything for a reason.

So why would he send this sort of firepower just to shuttle two academics between their hotel and the airport?
   

#

6pm Tuesday, Palo Alto, California (Minus 28 Hours)

Detective Steve Clark cursed under his breath as his Air Madison Oxford Leathers sunk into the marshy ground. Already the light was fading, and the beam of his Maglite torch wasn't enough to pickup the subtle change from grass to marsh.

The conversation with the County Coroner didn't sit right with Clark. The Coroner had been keen to write it off as a freak incident - the act of a deranged individual. From where Clark sat, he couldn't tell if this is was what the guy really believed, or if it just made life easier. Over the years, Clark had seen a few just like Dr Kosner, looking to swap the big city chaos for a slice of California sun. They came down expecting sun and backwater brains, and ran for cover when the shit hit the fan.

And it had really hit the fan.

A rich, beautiful young woman. Beaten and ...
eaten
... by a petite, straight-A teenage girl. The media had gone into overdrive. Online and cable coverage was 24/7, the Mayor had very publicly visited the grieving husband and even the Governor had got in on the act. With a sombre statement from the grounds of the largely symbolic Governors mansion in Sacramento, the Governor shook his head at the crime and went on to mention the many investments he'd made in law enforcement during his tenure. Classy.

Despite all the noise and wringing of hands about teenage depression, Clark's gut told him there was more to this than a good girl gone bad, and he was determined to find out exactly what it was.
 
Which was why, instead of heading back to the department after his meeting with Dr Kosner, Clark got into his unmarked Toyota Camry hybrid and drove through 45 minutes of traffic, north up the I-280, off Embarcadero and onto the Baylands Nature Preserve.
 

As he walked further along the running track, Clark could hear the generator and see the bright lights where the forensic evidence team had setup camp. As he closed in on the lights illuminating the now dark pathway, Clark could hear the low buzz of conversation. Emerging out of the undergrowth and into the crime scene, Clark nodded at Forensic Evidence Team Commander Tony Nichols, who looked up and waved him over.

"Hey Tony, figured I'd take another look out here just in case. What's happening?"

"Good to see you Steve - and great timing! I've got some good news for you. One of the divers just picked up the victim's camera phone - it had fallen into the shallow marsh water and was washed out a little which is why we missed it first time."

"Will we be able to recover anything after all that water damage?"

The diminutive Forensic Evidence team leader looked up at Clark towering above him and smiled. "That's where the good news comes in. The victim was a sports nut, and had the thing locked dry in an all-weather casing. The guys reckon it's absolutely fine - in fact, they're testing it right now."

Clark gave a wry smile. "That
is
good news Tony. This I have
got
to see."

The two men walked over to a plastic table acting as a makeshift workbench for the forensic unit. Tony nodded at a middle-aged woman examining the camera, and asked "Any luck?"

The woman said, "It's working perfectly sir. I've just skimmed through the video footage. There's lots of personal stuff, but I think you'll want to see the last forty seconds."

Without acknowledging Clark, the woman turned the camera phone screen to face the two men and touched it.
 

The screen sprang to life, and footage of Ian Brennan smiling and stumbling backward through the shallow marsh water played while Sandra Brennan laughed off camera. A sudden noise and the video swung to the right to see the petite young girl emerge. The girl drifted toward the camera while in the distance an increasingly agitated Ian Brennan shouted. As the girl closed in, the camera froze on her blood-soaked eyes. Suddenly the girl pounced forward - the watching Tony Nichols jumped backward while Clark watched impassively. With a splash, the camera landed on the muddy ground, water gently lapping against the screen. In the distance, guttural snarls and the sound of flesh slapping were punctuated with Ian Brennan's cries. Seconds later, a loud crack ended the snarling, replaced by Ian's anguished pleading. The men listened as Ian Brennan picked up his dead wife and ran back to the car park, leaving the sound of water gently lapping against the shore.

Clark lifted his eyes from the screen, looked at Nichols and shook his head slowly. Nichols looked pale, shocked as he handed the camera phone back to the woman.
 

"Thanks Tracy. Get that back to the lab immediately. Tell them we need to get some results first thing."

Grabbing Nichols by the elbow, Clark led him away from the frenetic activity and into the dark edge of the woods.

"Tony, have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"I've seen wired junkies do insane things, but a clean 13-year old girl? No way. Honestly, it doesn't make sense, and I have no idea where to start looking."

Clark paused. He slowly scanned the buzz of activity, frenetic and disciplined. A light oasis in the dark, silent bushes.
 

"I do." Clark turned to start the long dark walk back to his car.
 

"It's in her eyes."

#

11pm Tuesday, New York City (Minus 26 Hours)

Rachel stamped hard on the dirty concrete platform trying her best to get the blood flowing as she trudged off the 1920s two-track '2 line' from Manhattan. Straight ahead the familiar white and blue tiles shouting out "NEWKIRK AVE". She was almost home.