Trials in Walls of Ivy (Triskelion Trilogy Book 1) (17 page)

Levins lowered his head. “No. Evidence suggests that Mark’s work files have only been accessed by himself. It seems we are relying on him to solve this for us all.” He rubbed his stubble absentmindedly.

“But, aren’t you more qualified than him? I don’t mean to be rude, but he’s still training.” I felt my cheeks redden as he looked up at me with a grin.

“It’s true, I am a gene therapist. But, no one person can be an expert in every avenue of gene therapy. I specialise in delivery methods and recognition. I can study your genes, tell you where they may be a flaw. But, there are some areas where I would be less qualified than a masters student.” He smirked, as if humoured by his admission.

“And Mark, where does he specialise?”

Levins hesitated. “In manipulation. Mark’s research looks into repairing and manipulating a person’s genetic makeup.”

I looked down at my notes, flipping through the pages.  The words I had jotted during my discussion with Teresa jumped from the page like they were flashing lights.

“A mass cellular breakdown.”

“Pardon me?”

“When I spoke to Teresa. She said that the people had suffered a mass cellular breakdown.” I watched him, waiting for his reply. He didn’t speak.

“Doctor Levins, if Mark’s research is to manipulate the genes, could that also be applied to causing a mass cellular breakdown?”

He shook his head, smiling at my misunderstanding. “It’s similar, but crucially different. A person would need a significant understanding of genetic manipulation to transform Mark’s work to that degree.”

“But, if they had the understanding to follow your work, surely they could tweak his?”

Levins suddenly stood and backed away. He ran his hand through his hair, pacing the room, muttering to himself without pausing for breath.

“It can’t be. Mark’s work is specifically engineered to target dysfunctional genes. He created it to help people. Mark wants to help people.” He looked at me pleadingly. “It can’t be him.”

I jumped to my feet. “No. I didn’t mean I think it’s Mark.” I held up my hands helplessly, mimicking a stop gesture. “I mean, could someone be using his work? If the bomber has an understanding of genetics, they could also have an understanding of how to adapt Mark’s work. Surely, with his notes, they could adapt, even crudely adapt, his work? You said yourself it doesn’t target everyone.”

He was wringing his hands, pacing the room. “But his work is ground breaking. He’s stringed together theories which most cannot comprehend. How could anyone hope to adapt such research in so little time?”

“Doctor Levins, if they broke in and stole your work, they could have stolen his.”

He was shaking his head before I finished talking. “I told you, we checked the records. Nobody got into his files. Nobody has that research, but Mark. There’s no other explanation.”

I began to protest and he held up a finger to silence me.

“I cannot stress how advanced his research is. I am the only other scientist who has aided in this research and I can promise you, no one without prior knowledge could manipulate Mark’s work. It is simply too advanced. But above this, we need to look at the facts.”

“What facts?” My voice was curt.

“He has been present at two bombings. Here last night and at the theatre. He has the expertise, and his research wasn’t stolen.” He sat back in his chair and leaned toward me, taking my hands. “Miss Grove, you must take care. Do not reveal to Mark what we suspect.”

I shuffled back. “Maybe whoever took your research wanted it to look like they didn’t take Mark’s? I’ve learnt enough from working with Owen, computers can pretty much cover any tracks.”

He slumped back in his chair. “Then, the thief wanted it to look like they only took my files? Possibly.”

“So, why would they want to hide the fact they had Mark’s research and not yours?”

Levins didn’t answer. He scrubbed his chin, sightlessly staring at the lines of books on his shelves. I sat on my hands, the only way to stop myself from biting my nails in frustration.

“Because,” he finally continued, “the people who could understand Mark’s work are few and far between. My work was simpler to follow. I’ve been working on it for many, many years, simplifying the technique. Most people with a degree in genetics would have the ability to comprehend it. But, Mark’s work, it’s in its preliminary stages. He’s created some ground-breaking methods of his own invention. Understanding it enough to implement it…” He looked to me, his face sombre.

“Miss Grove, if we are correct, if it is indeed not Mark, but an imposter using his work, the suspects are dramatically reduced.”

“I have to report this.” I snatched my bag from the floor and slung it over my shoulder.

Levins stood and put his hand on my shoulder. “Wait.”

I began to protest before he held up a finger.

“I will investigate first. If we give this information to the police now, Mark will be prime suspect. Let me see if I can prove his innocence first.”

I shuddered. I was so enthusiastic to report my discovery, I hadn’t thought about Mark. I was about to throw him to the bears without a thought.

“You’re right. I will do some research too.”

“Come back and let me know what you find.”

“I will,” I called, as I rushed from the room.

*   *   *

My head was buzzing. The thought of Mark having something to do with the bombs made me sick to my stomach. It couldn’t be him. In my head, all evidence was beginning to point to him: the timing of the theatre bomb, the use of his research? But, in my heart, I knew it couldn’t be.

I opened the front door to be bowled over by a mass of fur. Mendel was pouncing round me frantically trying to get free. I groaned as he jumped up to slobber over my face.

“He’s been like that all morning,” Ash said, poking his head out from the living room.

I fought my way free and rubbed myself down. Dog hair flew from me and fluttered to the floor.

“Everyone here?”

“Yep, apart from Fern,” Ash said, holding the living room door open for me.

“I just saw her at the lab.”

“Thought you were going to tell me when you were heading out? How can I protect you when I don’t know where you are?”

I was about to snap a frustrated retort in Ash’s direction when he smiled down at me. I slapped his shoulder playfully as I passed him.

I pulled out the file Levins had just given me and joined my team. Bree, Owen, Jay and Warwick were crushed together on the settee.

As I entered, Jay switched a button on a black box and began to circle the room. “All clear.”

“What’s clear?” Bree asked.

Jay snapped the box off and retook his seat. “We found surveillance in here not too long ago. Listening devices.”

“In here? Who planted those?” Bree asked.

“No idea, but they were high tech. We only found them by chance.” Jay opened his laptop and keyed in a code word. The screen filled with interference. “In case I missed any. This will most likely block anything.”

“You sure?” I asked.

“Sure as I can be. What we on with?” Jay said, waiting with the others for my report.

I retold the conversation I’d had with Levins. Like me, they couldn’t understand why someone would hide that they had stolen Mark’s work and not Levins’.

As I got onto the subject of the cellular breakdown Owen went green. “You really think they have a weapon that can affect your genetics? I didn’t realise it was that invasive. Not down to the genes. How the buggerin’ hell can we defend against that?”

“But, I thought we always knew about the biological part?” Bree asked.

Owen’s eyes bulged. “Yeah, but with Levins connecting it to Mark’s research, it means only a professional could be doing it. This isn’t some half-arsed botch job. People were chosen to die, specifically. This person, whoever is setting the bombs, knows what they’re doing. They’re organised. That makes them all the more dangerous.”

“Owen’s right,” Jay said, “how’re we supposed to defend against it?”

“I don’t think we can,” I said. “I think that’s up to Mark. He needs to find a way to, I don’t know, block it? Counteract it? Right now, we need to find out who is trying to frame him.”

Ash cleared his throat. “Don’t we need to focus on trying to find the bomber? I know you want to clear your boyfriend’s name, but it can’t be the priority right now.”

My mouth flopped open. The room, silent. “My boyfriend? Where did that idea come from?”

As I spoke, Mendel ponded into the room and slumped next to me on the floor. Ash nodded pointedly at the dog.

“I was talking to Mark when the bomb went off. He asked me to hold his dog while he ran to help.”

“I still think we should be focussing on the bomber,” Ash said, his voice determined.

I laughed. “Ash, they’re the same.” I leaned forward and stroked Mendel. “The person who took the research, the person who’s trying to use Mark and Levins’ work, is the bomber. If we can find who’s setting Mark up, we find the bomber.”

Bree jumped up and clapped her hands, closely followed by an excited Mendel. “Then we have a target. Where do we start?”

I stood to match her. “How do you two feel about a little breaking and entering?”

Bree grinned eagerly. “I feel quite giddy about it.”

I turned to Ash to include him in the conversation. “I need you both to break into Mark’s house. We don’t want him to know you were there, but we need to find evidence of his whereabouts during every bombing. If we can rule him out as a subject, then we can bring the police in and this will run a lot faster.” I paced the room as I spoke.

“Here,” Jay shouted, as he rummaged in a large bag by his feet, “plant these where they’ll get a good view, but hidden.” He handed them a handful of tiny cameras.

“And this.” Warwick pulled what looked like a sticker from his wallet. He handed it to Ash without another word.

“What is it?” Ash asked.

“I call it a snoop,” he shrugged, looking overly nonchalant, “just stick it to the bottom of his laptop, if it’s there. I can monitor everything from here.”

Owen laughed. “You can’t be serious. They’ve never made them
that
small. That tiny thing will copy his files?”

“No, it won’t copy them. But, it’ll connect to my computer every time he switches it on. I’ll see what he sees.”

Jay leaned over and slung his arms around Warwick’s shoulders. “My god you’re amazing. Marry me.” Warwick shoved him away with a smirk.

“That’s unbelievable, Warwick,” Owen said, his mouth wide open in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Not this advanced. Where’d you get it?”

He shrugged. “I made a few of them a while ago. Don’t work over too far a distance, but will do for what we need.”

“You
made
this?” Owen shouted. “Wick, this is bloody brilliant. What else have you come up with?” He stepped over the bags of supplies, forgetting the room.

Warwick grinned sheepishly. “The usual stuff, just with more memory, signal, and where I can, I make them smaller.”

“You have to show me, this is…”

“So, we have camera and digital surveillance,” I said, loud enough to bring the room back to focus. “While you guys go there, we’ll go through his research file and history.” It felt strange to be stamping authority.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ash said, as he grabbed Bree to get ready to leave. Owen, Jay and Warwick ran upstairs excitedly, like a gang of schoolboys.

Mark popped by and collected Mendel not long after I returned from the lab. He seemed to be flustered, collecting his companion and rushing away with hardly a
hello
. My stomach twisted with guilt as I smiled and waved from the door. He was my friend and I had just instructed my team to bug his house.

We all sat on the edge of our seats while we watched Ash and Bree slide out of the house from under his nose. It was close, but in the nick of time, they managed it. Jay had improved his surveillance around the campus while Warwick somehow managed to sneak into the science labs and place his stickers on each laptop he could find. We were as ready as we were ever going to be.

Research wasn’t like it’s portrayed in films. There was no inspirational music playing while we poured over page upon page of documents, and no magical beautician which kept my hair in place. It hadn’t taken long for the surveillance in Mark’s house to come to life. One by one the monitors fired up, revealing a different room in his house. Owen and Warwick didn’t speak as they pored over streams of information flowing from his computer.

For three days, we worked.

We had survived on cold coffee, call out pizza and frayed nerves. Sleep times were rotated so that someone was constantly watching the surveillance monitors and listening to Mark’s house. In the end, we each simply slept on the settee, ready for our next shift.

We were entering the fourth day of surveillance when tempers began to grate.

I told Bree and Ash to go to training. They needed to keep up fitness as Wolves. They protested at first, but I could tell it was for show. They hated to be cooped up indoors. I watched through the window as the pair simultaneously began a race from the front path. Jay followed behind, sluggishly dragging his feet. Owen and Warwick stayed behind with me. I told them to get to class. I knew that all this missed time would come back to kick us in the arse. Owen said he was doing more here than he was in class. He didn’t see the point in backing away. Warwick was filled with some strange sense of obsession, like the bombings were a personal insult to him. He continued to glare at the computer screens, determined to discover that illusive piece of evidence we so desperately needed.

“God, this is getting old,” Owen sighed, as he flung himself back on the settee. “Don’t think I can read through this much longer.” His piles of notes were stacked on the floor beside his growing collection of coffee mugs.

I leaned back, leaning against his arm. “Nothing useful in his work?”

“There’s loads. Not that I understand any of it. He’s definitely smarter than he looks,” he smirked. “I just can’t focus.” He rubbed his eyes with both hands.

I looked to Warwick. “How’re you doing?”

“Getting through it. Owen’s right though, this is over our heads. I never passed science at school. There’s no chance of me understanding genetics at this level.

“Where’s Fern?”

“She sent me a text last night,” Owen said, “she stayed over at the labs, again.”

“She might as well live there,” Warwick laughed.

I had to agree. She had spent more nights there than here at the house in the last month.

“Alright, let’s give it a break. Meet up again in the morning?” I stretched out in my seat, my arms and legs sticking out blissfully.

“But, we need to do this,” Owen sighed.

“I know. But, we’re on the verge of burning out. We’ve been at this for days. Let’s all have a breather and get back to it in the morning. We can leave the cameras recording.”

Owen clicked off his screen. “I suppose so. Could do with a shower and a few pints of coffee.”

“Me too,” I sighed. The thought of a soak in the bath was worryingly appealing. “I’ll message the others now. You two go have a break.”

Warwick and Owen stretched simultaneously as they stood, each leaving the room like slow moving zombies. I dug my phone out from under the pizza boxes and sent the same text to Bree and Ash. Within a second a reply rang back. It was Ash.

Great, could do with a break. Might come round for a cuppa in a bit. You staying in?

I grinned at my phone stupidly. It was just a coffee. He was Bree’s boyfriend, and just my friend. Friends have coffee. I forced the grin from my lips and tapped in my reply.

Just give my half an hour to shower.

Knees cracking, I pushed myself up and made my way up the stairs. My legs felt like they hadn’t been used in weeks, not days. Apart from the odd trip to the downstairs loo, I hadn’t moved from the settee in days.

I passed Warwick’s room and heard the faint rhythm of music, then smiled as I passed Owen’s. The soft snores told me he had crashed the moment his head hit the pillow.

My room felt cold. The unused bed and days old cup on the dresser were stone cold reminders of the hours of sleepless work yet to be done. I longed to crash face first into my bed, but I knew that would be me for the night. Instead, I pulled out a change of clothes and my wash bag. I left my room hoping I wouldn’t fall asleep in the shower.

The bathroom was a mess. Towels were scattered and wet on the floor. Clothes were piled on top of the toilet seat. The shower curtain was pulled closed around the bath. I took another step in and realised that the water was already running.

“Oh, sorry,” I called, “you already in there, Warwick?”

No reply. I shivered against the cold moisture in the room.

“Warwick?”

“Yeah?” He replied, popping his head out from his bedroom, across the hall.

“Oh, you’re not in the shower?”

He looked at me like I was stupid. “I’m stood right here, Roz.”

“Right,” I laughed. I turned to the shower curtain. “Hello? Who’s in here?”

Warwick watched me as we listened to the soft sound of falling water.

“Someone must have left it running,” I said.

Warwick shrugged and closed his door. I growled under my breath. The air was freezing. Whoever had left it on had wasted all the hot water. Stepping over the pile of towels, I reached for the curtain. Cold water trickled over my fingers as I yanked the plastic back.

I stared. A silent scream ripped through my chest as my eyes locked on the occupied bath. Beads of water splashed up at me, rebounding off her white, bloated skin. The naked body laid crumpled, arms and legs twisted into unnatural positions. The water swirled around her face, her long red hair disappearing down the plughole.

“Warwick. Owen!” I screamed. I stood, gripping tight to the shower curtain as my two friends crashed into the room.

“What is…?” Owen dropped to his knees and reached into the bath. “Karissa?” He felt around her neck furiously, pressing his finger in every angle. “No, Karissa.” He slumped, hands still over the side of the bath.

Warwick reached passed me and turned off the water. His hand resting on my shoulder.

“How?” I asked. “How can she be dead?”

The three of us stood in silence, looking down on the housemate I never took the time to get to know. Goosebumps rose along my arms, the chill from the frigid water still tingling on  my skin. Her skin was smooth, even though it was colder than mine.

Lifeless bodies didn’t react to the cold.

It was the sight of a purple flower which made my eyes blur with tears. A single tulip tattoo sat on her hip. Stark against her chalk skin, it glared at me, a symbol of all the things I hadn’t known about her. Why had she chosen to have that tattoo? Was that her favourite flower, or did it have another meaning to her? Was there a story behind it? Where was she from? What kind of music did she like? What was her favourite food?

There was no time. No time to ask her these questions, no time to correct my single minded obsession to work hard. Without realising, Karissa had shown me what life should be about. She shone like a blazing star wherever she ventured, constantly bringing a smile to her friends. She loved life. She spent her days having fun, where I was too preoccupied to get to know her. She had reached out to me, and I was always too busy to notice.

Now, she was cold. No more time to enjoy life. No more sunshine to brighten our lives.

I sniffed as tears began to fall. “We have to call somebody.”

Warwick squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll go phone the campus hospital.”

He left the room leaving Owen and I to watch over her. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her lifeless body, unable to process the image I was seeing. She was so young. How could she be dead?

“How could we not notice?” I jumped as Owen spoke. His voice was as cold as our friend.

I gripped his shoulder. “How could we have known?”

He stood, and my hand fell away. “She went for a shower yesterday.” He stared down at her unblinking.

“Yesterday? She must have been taking another one today.”

He turned to me, his eyes red. “No. She shouted over to us when she passed yesterday, remember? She said she was grabbing a shower then going to that party.”

I thought back to the day before. I had been poring over a police report which was detailing the surrounding wreckage of the second bombing. Karissa had rushed through the front door, shouted hello to us before running upstairs for her shower. I didn’t remember her coming back down.

“Didn’t you come in here last night?” I knew I hadn’t. I had used the downstairs bathroom whilst researching.

“No. How could we not notice her not coming back down?”

“We were all working.” My shoulders slumped. It was true, we were working. But, that didn’t wipe clean the guilt of not noticing that your housemate is dead in the shower.

We both jumped as Warwick came back into the room.

“They’re here.”

The sound of the front door crashing open was followed by the thunder of footsteps. Owen pulled me back against him as three men in high visibility jackets rushed into the room. One man laid out a stretcher as the other two lifted her from the bath. A cover was placed over her marble body, then a strap secured her in place. It was over in seconds. We watched silently as she was carried from the house.

We followed down the stairs and to the door. A dark blue van waited ready with its blacked out doors open. Owen held my hand as the doors banged shut, sealing away our housemate in a hollow tomb of cold metal. The men climbed into the front seat and drove away without a word.

The three of us stood at the door. Lost.

“I’m going out,” Warwick announced. He pushed passed us, almost running across the grass.

“Warwick?” I shouted after him.

“Let him go,” Owen said. He squeezed my hand. “He just needs some time.”

“To do what? What are we supposed to do?” I rubbed away more tears with my sleeve.

“Nothing we can do. Just, carry on I suppose.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

“Just like that? It seems wrong. How can we just act like nothing has happened? Our housemate is dead.”

“Not like nothing has happened.” He spoke quickly, like he was forcing his words to stay calm.

I twisted and wrapped my arms around his chest, pulling him into a hug. His arms gripped around my shoulders. Within moments I felt his body shake with tears. I gripped him tighter, my sadness the mirror of his. We stood on the doorstep holding each other, not able to move from the spot. The last place we saw Karissa.

“Everything okay?” I jumped as Ash’s voice broke our solitude.

Owen eased back, keeping hold of my shoulders. “You two go. I’m going to clean up.”

“What? No. You’re not doing that alone. I’ll help you.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I want to. Please, Roz. Let me clean up the bathroom for her. It’s the least I can do for her.”

“You really want to be alone?”

He stepped back, letting me go. “Yes. I’ll see you tonight.” He looked up at a confused Ash. “Take her somewhere quiet, and warm.”

Ash nodded and took my hand. I stepped out of the door as Owen closed it behind me. I walked without knowing direction. Blinded by tears, I let Ash guide me, his warm hand gripping mine. My feet dragged along the gravel path, scraping a trail behind us.

Ash didn’t speak, didn’t intrude on my racing mind. Questions and blame spiralled in my eyes like red hair in a drain. Why didn’t I check on her? How didn’t we hear the water running? What kind of friend was I to not notice?

I stumbled as Ash pulled me toward a staircase. My legs felt numb. I clung to the banister while he pulled. Every step up felt like a mountain. My body wanted to shut down, to stop feeling.

My knee stung against something hard. As Ash’s arms wrapped around me, the stairs disappeared into blackness.