Murder in the Fabric Page 10

and George. George and Alex. Sitting at the top of a dune. Far away from anyone on the beach. Talking, as they did, about anything and everything. What was it? As they sat George looked at Alex framed by the sun. Her dark hair falling straight. The look: hesitant, brief. It had happened before. But this time it was as if George suddenly, somehow, just decided that it was then, or never. His hand strayed in the direction of Alex’s waist. Held. Then held tighter.

  They tried to keep it a secret, at first. With some success. But chaos has a way. A phone call overheard. A pattern of behaviour suddenly broken. Then there they were. George and Alex. Alone. No partners, no problems. The blissful days just stretched, and stretched.

  Back in the city, before you could say “life’s expectations have a way of tripping you up” it was all over. George’s ambition. As he entered the police force, there were too many dinners missed. Too many lonely late nights. As suddenly as it started, it was gone.

  Now here they were again. Like brother and sister. Just talking. But if it was so innocent, why did it need a cover story?

  George walked confidently into the cafe, straight up to Alex’s table. She smiled, just slightly, and he sat.

  “How’s tricks?” he said

  “Same. Hamster on a treadmill.”

  “I hope that husband of yours appreciates you. Otherwise I’ll be forced to take you on an extended tour of the Greek Islands. There are hundreds.”

  “Sure. But what about the unsolved murders that would result?”

  “Stuff it. Seriously.”

  “Admit it. It is you. You are it.”

  He paused. It wasn’t about the job really. It was about that summer.

  “Where does he think you are?” he asked.

  “Yoga.”

  “So we have exactly 55 minutes. Plus travel time.”

  “I hope we are not going to make a break for the nearest motel..”

  They both laughed then. A connection. It ebbed and flowed, but for both of them now, it was a constant. At times the only anchor they had.

  “How is your ex?” Alex asked.

  “Not even sure which continent she is on.”

  George’s attempt at marriage. Like a lot of things in George’s life was a victim of his obsessions. At the times he was there it was good. But those times became sporadic. Too sporadic.

  “You should have tried harder.” she said

  “Too late for ‘should have’ “

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t be giving lectures.”

  Alex’s marriage was normally outside the ambit of their conversations. But it was of course a backdrop. Not long after the demise of George and Alex she had been pursued by Nick. An architect. Now in some ways he was the architect.

  “How is life in the shadows.” George asked.

  “Yes, he is insufferable.”

  Alex’s eyes lifted up from their focus on the table mat. Looked up, and straight into George’s eyes. As if searching for something. But they both quickly changed the subject.

  There was a long pause. Both of them thinking the same thing. George and Alex on a plane, flying somewhere. Somewhere where there was no pressure. No furtive hiding in cafes - one eye on the door, watching for the familiar face. After that long pause, they both looked back at each other. That lost look.

  “Time nearly up?” George said.

  “I always stop and chat to the girls for a few minutes.”

  George tried to imagine that conversation. It was a world away from his life. The murder room beckoned.

  “Next class?” he asked.

  “I can’t skip the next one.”

  “One after then.”

  “OK.”

  The actual leaving was tricky. Did they just wave goodbye? Or did he do the “small kiss on the cheek” thing. Or did he just throw caution to the wind, and grab her? The younger George would probably have gone for this option. But now he was more cautious.

  // Mia

  “First we plant the fake gold” Mia said

  Oscar looked up. It was a very dramatic looking report. From a Norwegian think tank. An economic risk research group.

  “Very impressive.” Oscar said. How much?

  “Six figures.” Mia said.

  “Do I have to read it?”

  “I can give you the elevator summary if you like.”

  “Elevator?”

  “Imagine you are in an elevator with somebody really important. You have ten floors of travel to convince them of the merits of your case.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s a corporate thought experiment. Imagine if.”

  “When did you learn corporate speak?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Oscar looked at the document. The presentation.

  “Does the research group exist?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did they do the research?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “The backers.”

  “Yes.”

  “They get a research grant. It’s large. All they have to do is pretend that they did the work. If you were down on your luck, would you take it?”

  Oscar flipped the pages.

  “Why Norway?”

  “The further away the source, the more mysterious the source the more credibility the average punter attaches to it.”

  “The punch line?”

  “CSBH are short of cash reserves. Bad debts accumulated. Latest reporting covers up the problem.”

  “Based on fact?”

  “Yes. There is a small amount of fact. But the problem is nowhere near as bad as the report indicates.”

  Mia showed him a flow chart. A series of postings to various outlets. To a set of email addresses. It was a carefully staged scattering of information.

  “A feeding plan?” Oscar asked

  “More than that. It’s scattered in a precisely timed manner.”

  “To feed a frenzy.”

  “Exactly.”

  // George

  “Why don’t you think they are being cooperative?” he said.

  Alice replied:

  “Naturally secretive. They don’t want their business thrown around.”

  “It’s more than that.” George said. “Again. What do we know about SciTec?”

  Steve waved up the views on the wall. “They pretty much own the north. From Broome across to Cairns. Began investing way before everyone else. Bought stuff up, got on the ground. Took the risks. But the time the north was the next big thing they were already in control.”

  George wondered how many egg shells there were waiting to be trodden on here. He could always go and ask Kate for guidance. He shuddered. No, that wasn’t a good idea. He would get the ‘don’t meddle with stuff you don’t understand’ lecture.

  They all went silent for a moment.

  “The crying woman.” George said.

  “Amy.” Alice said.

  “Yes. Where does she work? What department?”

  “Hang on, I’ll just look.”

  Alice turned to the wall and threw a few pages around. Searching. It didn’t take long.

  “Tech support.”

  // Mia

  Far below in the early morning light, early morning workers were stumbling in the direction of the nearest coffee place. Almost colliding with late night revelers finding their way out of nightclubs. A dim light, the Yarra almost invisible. A few leaves flying around. Her first autumn for a very long time. She thought about winter. Too many years to count since she had to endure a winter. How many places on the planet were there where it was near zero, raining and blowing? Not for the first time she thought about fleeing. How far would she get? In one way or another the backers would be waiting for her even as the plane landed in some far away place. In this world there was no longer any such thing as a far away place.

  There were tasks rolling over on her screen. For the moment they could proceed unattended. Hijacking twitter accounts. Creating new identities, wi
th a short history of tweets. Journalists, financial commentators. They didn’t have to be able to stand up to detailed examination. By the time anyone took the trouble to dig deeper it would all be over.

  Oscar was stirring. He opened his eyes to see all of the screens showing activity.

  “Early bird catches the fake twitter handles.” he said.

  “Something like that.” Mia said.

  “Today the day?”

  “If you think she is ready.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Oscar studied the screens.

  “The art of creating a firestorm.”

  “All in the timing.” she said.

  They were both nervous, although both determined not to show it. Up to now, in a sense, it had been easy. Sheltered by the backers, hidden away. Once this came up on the radars, who knew what the response might be?

  “Timing.” Oscar said.

  “How long will it take you once she has the link in place?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “About?”

  “Ok. Twenty minutes.”

  “I’m aiming for early afternoon. It’s not raining, so the queues should grow.”

  “Queues?”

  “People wanting to convert their savings into cold hard cash.” she said.

  Mia had a series of surveillance points showing on the far screens, the large ones. Divided up into many smaller screens. Each of them showed an ATM.

  // Robert

  He had paused in the foyer on his first day. To take it all in. Like a tourist whale watching. The impressively tall building with the silver exterior. Hiding all that took place within its skin.

  At the end of one journey, and the beginning of another. The silver barriers with the human width openings went from floor to ceiling. Much like an airport scanning area. It had the normal scanners, together with the electromagnetic scanners looking for anything remotely resembling a chip. It was such a vast space, filled with such a large array of detectors.

  The queues shuffled forward. He held back. For the everyday workers it was just an annoyance. For him it was a gateway to a new world.