Leeward

by D. Edward Bradley

  Dougal went over to the living room telephone. “They make a weird noise when they answer. How about it, Kurt? Shall we try?”

  The detective pulled out his notebook, found the page he wanted, then gave it to Dougal. “I’ll convert the country codes from Swedish to German from the phone directory, and when you’ve altered them in your list we can have a go. Can you tell the difference between the sound of a fax and a modem connection?”

  “Aye,” replied Dougal. “But I’ll check the office fax first.”

  When he had finished, Kurt noticed there were three numbers in Germany, so they decided to start with them. There was no reply from the first two, which were normal telephones, but when Dougal dialed the third one, it rang once, then there was a loud high-pitched sound.

  “Pay dirt!” he cried. “This one’s definitely a modem. We’ll switch on the computer when we’ve found a few more.”

  It took about half an hour to try all twenty-two, and there were two more modem numbers, and no fax connections. Only one voice connection produced a reply. A woman spoke in English.

  As previously agreed, Dougal said, “Sorry, wrong number.”

  “Now for it.” Dougal snapped on the computer’s master switch and its cooling fan began to whir. He keyed in some commands to activate the internal modem, and typed in the German modem number from his list. After a few moments a name written in large green letters appeared on the screen. It was Garmisch-Partenkirchen. There was no other writing.

  “What do you make of that, Dougal?” asked Meg. “Where is this place anyway?”

  “Garmisch-Partenkirchen is a small town in the Alps on the Austrian border, Meg. The Winter Olympics were held there just before the Second World War. But I haven’t the faintest idea what to do next. There are usually some instructions when you connect with another computer, like Login or Enter Password.”

  Kurt went over to join the others, who had gathered round Dougal to watch. “Is there nothing you can do to get any farther?” he asked.

  “The mouse doesn’t do anything. I can try a few keys at random, but I doubt if it’ll do much good.” Dougal punched in several function keys and various letters and numbers. Nothing happened. But at the last attempt, when he combined the red “Control” key with numerous others in turn, he got lucky. The writing dissolved and a menu appeared. It was in English.

  Headquarters F1 + access code

  Local Sections Menu F2

  Global Network Status F3 + access code

  Information Update F4 + access code

  Quit Control + Q

  “Aye,” muttered Dougal. “I’ll bet those access codes are different for each program. But we’ve discovered a hell of a lot already, haven’t we? The implications of the menu alone are enormous.” He punched F2 decisively, and the original menu was replaced by another.

  CENTRAL EUROPEAN ADMINISTRATION

  GARMISCH-PARTENKIRCHEN

  Administration F5 + access code

  Covert Activities F6 + weekly access code

  Political F7 + access code

  Financial F8 + access code

  Intelligence F9 + weekly access code

  Scientific F10 + access code

  “I wonder why it was so easy to get into the second menu?” Kurt asked.

  “I don’t think they expected anyone to get as far as the first,” Dougal answered. “It was just luck that we did.”

  There was a short silence as each person took a good look at the monitor, then the Judge spoke loudly to get everyone’s attention.

  “What we’ve found scares the hell out of me! You remember the first menu and an item entitled Global Network Status? That means just what it says, doesn’t it? It looks like we’re up against a worldwide setup with area units linked by a sophisticated computer system.”

  “Isn’t that jumping to conclusions a bit?” queried Kurt. “All we know for sure is that there’s a German Administration Area, and we can’t get any farther without access codes.”

  “Aye, you may be right,” said Dougal. “There might not be any connection with St. Barbe’s or anywhere else. But there’s an easy way to find out more. Let’s have those overseas modem numbers.”

  Dougal decided that Kurt didn’t really believe what he was saying, and was simply playing Devil’s Advocate for reasons best known to himself. Before he had tried to get further into the Garmisch-Partenkirchen program from the original title on the screen, Dougal took the precaution of instructing his computer to record the entire keying sequence, just in case a particular combination did the trick.

  The next modem number was in Australia. After several tries, he unlocked a program which had “Australian Administration” as its title. The main heading was replaced by Rockhampton Center followed by the same list containing Headquarters, Local Section Menu, and the rest. The Local Section Menu carried the heading Australasian Regional Administration.

  “It looks like I was right,” the Judge commented. “Where is Rockhampton, by the way?”

  Meg located the map of Australia and found it. “Rockhampton’s a medium-sized town on the east coast, north of Brisbane.”

  “They don’t seem to like large cities,” Kurt remarked.

  The last overseas modem number included the Caribbean area code along with the St. Barbe’s number Dougal had noted. The menu’s were the same as the other two.

  “That seems to be all,” said the Judge. “It’s been a long day, and I’m bushed.”

  “If you people want to quit,” Dougal replied, “I’ll make sure all this stuff is printed out and filed on the computer.”

  “Thanks,” replied the Judge. “Much appreciated.”

  As soon as they had gone, Dougal poured himself a generous malt whisky and settled down to organize all the unbelievable information they had obtained.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Tuesday, October 23, Boston

  While Judge Winchester and Kurt Gruber were involved in their attempt to kidnap Larsen, Josie and Jon had contacted Crispin Marchant. It turned out that he had been a reporter with the New York Mail, but was recently fired after a row with his editor. He was therefore available to try and locate Marshall Thompson. Jon had thought of hiring a private detective, but someone the Judge and Josie knew and trusted was obviously a far better choice.

  “There’s no doubt he’s competent,” said Josie, as they got dressed that morning. “We could tell him the whole damn story.”

  “But surely he’d want to sell it to a paper?”

  “We’d make him swear not to.”

  “I think it’s a hell of a risk.” Jon was beginning to feel slightly uneasy.

  Crispin had agreed to fly to Boston to discuss things, so Jon and Josie met him at Logan Airport in the afternoon. Jon thought he was an imposing figure. But in spite of being six feet plus, and well built, he seemed to exude the aura of an African-American academic, rather than an investigative reporter. His handshake was strong, and his face seemed to light up when he smiled. Josie had decided that he could stay at their apartment if he took the job.

  “You’re looking good in spite of being out of work,” Josie said as they waited for his baggage.

  “I guess getting fired was mostly my fault,” Crispin replied. “It’s lucky I have the time to help you out. I’m steamed up with curiosity about what it is you want me to do.”

  “Can you contain yourself a bit longer?” asked Josie. “I don’t want to discuss it in public.”

  It was beginning to get dark when they got into the car and headed downtown. Jon was driving.

  “It’s to do with a policeman friend of Dad’s. His name’s Marshall Thompson and he’s a Superintendent.” Josie twisted herself round to speak to Crispin in the back seat. “He seems to have vanished.”

  “A cop. But surely they’ve made a big effort to find him?”

  “That’s the problem. It looks like the search is being handled by some junior officer, and he’s not very good. Dad thinks there’s some kind of
cover-up.”

  Jon explained that Marshall Thompson had been investigating the bugs in Judge Winchester’s house before it was burnt down.

  “Dad wants us to find out where Marshall Thompson is, or at least what’s happened to him,” Josie added. “But we just don’t have the right contacts. He suggested you might be able to help. I’m certain he’d be really pleased if you could start right now, or rather tomorrow. You can call him about money later. He’s in Germany at the moment, but we could contact him in a day or two, maybe when you’ve got some information.”

  “I’ll gladly accept. It all sounds pretty bizarre to me, and I love it.”

  “You can stay with us, of course,” continued Josie. “We’ve got a two-bedroom apartment so you can have the spare room.”

  After dinner, Josie looked at Jon while they were clearing the dining table. “I was thinking, since Crispin isn’t working for a newspaper any more, we can trust him completely. I mean, couldn’t we tell him everything?”

  “Everything?” interrupted Crispin. “You mean there’s more? And why wouldn’t you trust me, Jo?”

  “Crispin, you have to swear you won’t use what we’re going to tell you to try and get another job or something. I’m sure Dad will pay you a good salary to work for us.”

  “Okay. I promise there’ll be no stories. Let’s have it, start to finish, nothing left out.”

  Without waiting for Jon to agree, Josie launched into the whole strange tale. But of course there were things even she didn’t know about, like the events in Europe.

  As soon as she’d finished, Crispin looked at them both, deep concern in his expression. “What a hell of a story. Any paper would really go for it. But you can trust me not to do anything silly, and I’ll be only too happy to join up, just for room and board. When we’ve got to the bottom of the whole affair, there might be enough to fill a book.”

  Wednesday, October 24, Boston

  There was a smell of roast duck coming from the kitchen, and the table was laid for dinner. Jon had been at the University all day, and Crispin Marchant had been sleuthing, as he liked to call it. Josie felt the need to do something mundane, so she decided to cook a decent meal for a change. She told the two men to sit and relax while she served cocktails and snacks.

  With Josie perched on the arm of Jon’s chair, Crispin recounted his day.

  “I reached my contact in the Police Department early this morning, and asked him to find out what was happening in the Thompson investigation. When I got back to him, he said there wasn’t an investigation.”

  “You mean a Superintendent in the Police Department disappears and no one’s even looking for him?” Josie interrupted.

  “Well it is a bit murky. My contact said the junior officer who was originally on the case had been replaced because he didn’t make any progress. The person who took over a week ago was Thompson’s immediate superior. He told the press that he’d be issuing no statements until further notice, and from what my contact can gather, there’s no work going on at all.”

  “Christ!” said Josie angrily. “What a bloody lot of creeps! Why such a complete cover-up? Anyone would think it was the cops themselves who kidnapped him.”

  “It stinks,” replied Crispin. “It stinks like a pile of shit and I don’t think I can find out what’s behind it.”

  “The cops could be in with the St. Barbe’s Government,” Jon suggested.

  “Come off it!” cried Josie. “That’s too far out.”

  “I suppose so.” Jon turned to Crispin. “Can you think of any other explanation?”

  “I’ve only been in on this business for a day, and haven’t got much of a feel for it yet. I guess the answer’s no.”

  Crispin glanced at Josie. She was looking really sexy, especially with a blouse and skirt instead of the jeans and sweater she’d being wearing earlier. Not only that, sitting on the arm of a chair revealed most of her long slim legs.

  This fact hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jon. And what about this Jo business? It sounded like they’d been pretty familiar while Crispin was working for the Judge.

  Thursday, October 25, Boston

  The next morning, Jon left the apartment early to attend a nine o’clock lecture at Tuft’s. Josie decided to have a shower, and as soon as he had gone, she went back into the bedroom and took off her housecoat. Her door was ajar, and in the mirror she could see across the living room to Crispin’s door, which was shut. He hadn’t had breakfast and she presumed he was still asleep. She pulled her nightie slowly over her head, and at that second Crispin’s door opened.

  He couldn’t help seeing her. She stood just inside the room, completely naked, her arms still stretched above her head showing off her breasts perfectly. Crispin felt himself getting aroused.

  Josie turned. “Crispin, don’t stare.” She covered herself with her hands and kicked the door closed.

  Crispin stood a moment, slightly embarrassed, but very much aware of how much he wanted her. A moment later she emerged tying up the belt of her housecoat.

  “I’m sorry,” Crispin apologized. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

  Josie smiled. “I don’t mind,” she answered. And she really didn’t. In fact she’d felt a sort of thrill when Crispin looked at her. “I know I should, but I don’t. How about some breakfast?”

  Josie looked for coffee and filters in the small kitchen, while Crispin stood beside her. Her housecoat fell open a little as she stood at the sink filling the carafe of the coffee-maker, and what he saw was almost too much for his self-control.

  “Josie, you’re driving me crazy.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She swung round to face him and the housecoat fell open from top to bottom. Then Crispin slipped it off her shoulders, and the whole garment fell to the floor. Josie did nothing, but Crispin leaned forward and kissed one of her breasts, teasing it with his tongue. Josie groaned, and her hand felt under his pants. Crispin took them off, and in seconds they were both naked. After that everything happened in a frenzy. Crispin pulled her to the bedroom and lowered her gently onto the bed. As time went on, the sensations each evoked in the other became more and more intense, and Josie wished it would all go on for ever. But it was soon over for both of them, and they lay back exhausted. Crispin turned to face her, and they looked into each other’s eyes but said nothing.

  Then Josie sat up. “Crispin, you’re something else. But Jon must never find out under any circumstances. He’s a very jealous sort of person, and I can’t imagine what he’d do.”

  “Don’t worry, Jo. I’m not going to give us away.” He eased her back on the bed, and looked down at her breasts and long smooth legs. “I want to do it all over again.”

  “I want it again too.” Josie couldn’t believe it was her own voice. “Maybe a bit later on. Let’s have a shower and eat.”

  In the afternoon, it happened again, and was even better than before. They showered together again, but separated and dressed in their own rooms, each wondering about the implications of their lovemaking. Obviously things were going to be very difficult indeed. Later on, Josie knocked on Crispin’s door and he let her in. Jon would want to know how they had spent the day, so they agreed upon a story.

  It was just after five when Jon returned from the University. He went straight to the fridge for a beer, and tossed a can to Crispin who was coming out of his room.

  “What’s new?” he asked.

  “Nothing much,” replied Crispin. “I made a few phone calls, then Jo went over the St. Barbe’s business again. You guys forgot a lot of things the other night.”

  “Not surprising after all the booze,” said Jon taking another swig of beer. He went back to the kitchen area to see what was for dinner, and found Josie about to put some T-bone steaks on the grill. He put his arms round her waist from behind, then held her breasts. The faint tension in her body didn’t really register.

  Josie was confused, and took refuge behind her cooking activities. “Be a sweetie and set
the table.”

  Jon released her.

  No one talked much during the meal—they were all very hungry. Meaningful conversation didn’t start until they were sitting in easy chairs and coffee had been brewed.

  Jon turned to Crispin. “So now you know everything?”

  “I sure do. It amazes me how you all kept going. It must have been unbelievably hairy.”

  “It still is a bit,” Josie commented. “I thought I was being followed the other day. I’ll probably never know for sure.” Her eyes locked with Crispin’s for a second.

  “I think what upset me most was missing the rescue at Leeward,” said Jon. “If I’d been there things might have been different, but what’s done is done, and we all acted for the best. One of the people I admire most is Hans, poor bastard.”

  Crispin looked puzzled, then Josie realized to her horror that she had forgotten to tell him about Hans’ adventures in the woods.

  Jon continued. “I’d have been scared shitless all alone in the rain forest with that creepy monster hanging around.”

  “Me too,” Crispin commented. But the words didn’t come out in quite the right way.

  Josie quickly changed the subject, hoping Jon hadn’t noticed. “Crispin’s going back to Marshall Thompson’s lawyers tomorrow. They said they might have some information for him.” It was a blatant lie, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Crispin got up. “I’m going out for a while. I need a couple of shirts. Can I pick up anything in the food line, Jo?”

  “No thanks. We’ll last a couple of days, I guess.”

  Jon watched Crispin go to his room for an overcoat. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but he sensed there was something stilted about their conversation. He looked over at Josie. She was sitting in an armchair staring at her half-empty coffee cup. The door banged as Crispin left.

  “God, I’m tired,” said Jon.

  Josie looked up. She hoped and prayed he wouldn’t want to make love while Crispin was out. He got up and went to the bedroom. Josie’s heart missed a beat. Make love now? She knew she would give everything away. He would sense what had happened.