Long Valley Road

by Ross Richdale

  "But wasn't that what you expected?" John replied.

  "I knew Bruce was lackadaisical but I don't know how he got away with doing so little."

  "And wouldn't you have changed most things, anyhow?"

  "I know but if I had all my work it wouldn't be so hard to adapt it. The idea of starting from scratch." She grimaced and reached for a slice of chocolate cake Fiona had baked that morning.

  John grinned, stood up and left the room only to return a moment later holding a box of computer disks. "A good computer worker always keeps a copy of programs in a secure place. I copied everything you did on the school computer on this disk and brought it home." He shrugged. "I also kept a copy of work on our home computer at school so that's gone. I'll need to recopy it, now."

  "Everything?" Kylena broke into a smile.

  "Yes, you were pretty conscientious and used the computer for most of your work. It is all here." He held the box up.

  "My dear," she laughed. "You're marvellous and I love you. How can I repay you for your forethought."

  "There is one way," John chuckled and reached out for her.

  *

  The lawyer walked into the interview room and waited for his client to be led in. He stood, shook hands with the sullen man and waited for the guard to leave.

  "So what is it this time?" Mic Werner grunted as he slung a leg over the wooden chair and sat down.

  "News,” said the lawyer. "Good and not so good."

  "Give me the bad stuff first," Werner replied.

  "Your trial has been put back at least three months and the police are seeking to incorporate the charge of stealing John Berg's cattle with the assault charge against your estranged wife. This could be bad for you as the Crown is going to try to prove the two alleged crimes are interconnected."

  "So," Werner snapped. "What else is new?"

  "Due to the trial being put back, I've managed to get bail for you." He gave a thin smile. "That's the good news."

  Werner's eyes glanced up and the dark stare changed to a grin. “From when?"

  "There are restrictions," the lawyer warned and extracted a document from his satchel. "You are to surrender your passport and must report to the police station once a week."

  Mic Werner shrugged.

  "Also you are restricted from travelling within twenty kilometres of Long Valley Road or communicating with Kylena Berg or her husband personally, by mail or electronic means."

  "Meaning?"

  "You cannot call, text or send email messages to any of the Berg family."

  "Wouldn't bloody want to," Werner snorted. “That bitch is not worth it."

  The lawyer glanced up and saw the dark expression in the man's eyes. "My advice is to contain any emotions about your ex-wife when you are in public. Any outburst will merely play into the Crown prosecutor's hands."

  "Yeah, yeah." Werner snapped. He reached for the bail document. "Where do I sign?"

  After leaving prison, Mic Werner had two priorities. He visited the local brothel and found a young Asian girl from Thailand hardly out of high school. She was expensive but quite uninhibited and didn't object to his quite violent approach. Afterwards he visited a downtown bar and arranged to meet an acquaintance of his. They talked for twenty minutes before the man stood up and shook his head.

  "No man," he said. “I’ll have nothing to do with it, nor will anyone else I know of. She's hot, man. If anyone goes within a country mile of her the cops will be down on us like flies around shit. Keep your money."

  "Bastard," Werner snarled. However, he later found the man had told the truth. Nobody from the criminal world was the slightest bit interested in his proposition.

  "Bloody cowards," the intoxicated Werner growled at two the following morning after his fourth rebuttal. "I'll get you myself my dear Mrs. Kylena Berg. Nobody gets the best of Mic Werner. Not even you, you fat bitch."

  He wiped a dirty hand across his froth-stained moustache, decided to pay another visit to the young prostitute and left the nightclub. As he stumbled out the door he never noticed another seedy customer gulp his drink and discretely follow.

  *

  Detective Constable Fenton's orders were explicit. Until he was relieved in two hours time, he was to keep with Werner and take note of every person the man had contact with. Already the young Asian girl had been interviewed, removed from the brothel by the police and the owner told if any other under aged illegal immigrants were employed, the premises would be closed.

  The owner was hard, one of the worst, but he believed the detective talking to him. An order went out that Mic Werner was not to be allowed back on the premises and two heavies were sent out to advise the man to stay away.

  At five the same morning the badly beaten man was found in the park and transported to the hospital. The wounds were sore but caused no permanent injury except to enhance the man's already foul temper. Kylena was the cause of all his troubles and, by God, she was going to pay.

  *

  CHAPTER 18

  The applause broke into a standing ovation that the woman behind the rostrum received with a modest smile. Professor Patricia Fenwick did not notice a colleague sitting purse lipped in the front row with eyes glued on her. Doctor Angelina Sands-Bentley was not cheering or even clapping as she sat with knees together and her gloved hands folded across her body.

  The second day of the conference at White Reef Hotel overlooking Waikiki Beach in Honolulu was, to date, a brilliant success. Over a hundred and twenty top world scientists attended and the paper presented by Professor Fenwick on genetically altered crops to increase the world's food supplies was well researched.

  After the applause subsided, the chairperson of the conference, stood, added his congratulations to the professor and suggested it was now a good time for a break. Conversations started throughout the room as the audience drifted through into an adjacent room for coffee.

  Aggie waited while several people took the opportunity to speak with Professor Fenwick and when the woman of her attention was about to depart, walked up and introduced herself.

  "Yes, Doctor Sands from New Zealand," the professor read the nametag on Aggie's breast. The tall, petite fifty year old looked younger than her years but this was probably helped by a dye rinse that hid gray hair. "I must say I enjoyed my years at Victoria University in your country and I look forward to the paper you are presenting tomorrow, is it?" The slightly condescending tone did not go unnoticed by Aggie.

  "I don't believe you will, Professor Fenwick," came the terse reply. "For you see, unless you choose to co-operate fully I shall expose you for the fraud you are."

  Eyes met, both serious; both cold but it was the New Zealander who held her opponent's gaze.

  "Perhaps you had better explain yourself doctor," Fenwick hissed.

  "My full name is Angelina Sands-Bentley," Aggie continued in a soft controlled voice. "My father is Doctor Harold Bentley whom, and I have evidence to support my statement, you had an affair with in 1992. The liaison itself is of no interest to me but the consequences of the joint research you did with my father is."

  "What do you want, Doctor Sands?" Patricia Fenwick's stern voice failed to hide a slight quiver. "Is this blackmail?"

  "Nothing so crude," Aggie replied. "Justice, professor. That is all I require."

  Except for the chairperson who hovered around, the room had now emptied. "I won't be a moment, Stephen," Fenwick said to the man. "My colleague and I wish to have a few words in private."

  "As you wish professor," the man muttered, diverted his eyes from Aggie's resolute gaze and departed.

  Aggie placed her briefcase on an adjacent table, unzipped it, extracted an old scientific journal and placed it in front of her adversary.

  "This article, written in July 1992 about a new strain of genetically altered potato called strain 233.35 and later know as Red Giant, lead to your rapid rise to fame, professor."

  "Yes it was," Fenwick retorted. "That Red Giant variety increase
d a farmer's yield by twenty five percent, was resistant to blight and has helped feed millions but I can see no reason for this conversation to continue."

  "Then leave, Patricia," Aggie hissed. She emphasized the woman's forename.

  The scientist, though, did not. Her chin jutted out and face became devoid of the little colour it had. "Shall we retreat to more private surroundings," she muttered instead. "I have my suite only three floors above us."

  "Thank you." Aggie smiled for the first time. "There are other documents I wish to show you."

  In the expensive up-market suite with it's own living quarters and balcony overlooking the beach, the atmosphere was anything but cordial.

  "Hear me out," Aggie began. "At the end I shall tell you the reason for my, shall we say, visit."

  "Go on." Professor Fenwick had gained some of her self-assurance as she sat in front of the large kidney shaped coffee table and folded her legs.

  Doctor Angelina Sands-Bentley reached for her briefcase again and took out a tatty document. She placed it on the table and looked up. "My father's original paper, professor, signed and dated at the end and including the extra three pages entitled, Precautions in using the Beta strain over the Alpha strain." She pointed to faded handwriting in the margin. "A handwriting expert will swear on oath this is your writing, Patricia."

  "How did you find this?" Fenwick eyes were wide in astonishment. The handwriting was still readable and said, Wonderful research, but commercial interests are only interested in beta strain so why worry about the last bit?'

  "Oh, my father was not the dithery old fool you took him for, Patricia," Aggie continued. "You destroyed a facsimile, not the original. Shall I continue?"

  Fenwick appeared grim but nodded.

  "Because my father still had romantic feelings towards you, even after you stole his work, he did not file a complaint but instead withdrew all support for the project and later resigned from his position." Aggie stopped and fixed her eyes once again on her opponent. "Not that you cared. You got the recognition you wanted and left a heartbroken old man in your wake."

  "It was not like that," argued the other woman. "I had genuine feelings for Harold."

  "Oh yes!" Aggie retorted. "Enough to rip him out of a life's work and bled him dry emotionally..."

  "He wanted to withhold the beta strain..."

  "I know. The alpha strain would only increase yield ten percent but it could be reproduced. The beta strain could not. Any grower using the beta potato for seed found the new season's crop produced a low yield and two seasons later, nothing. Growers, therefore, always had to buy new seed potatoes from the original producer. This happened to be Alderfield Chemicals and Produce that made millions by selling the pure Red Giant beta strain every year to unsuspecting farmers. You own forty percent of the Alderfield shares, professor. It must be worth millions of dollars.”

  "You know that, too?"

  "Oh yes. My research has been thorough. All will be revealed in my paper to the conference tomorrow." Aggie walked to the balcony and gazed out at the rolling breakers. "A beautiful view," she added in a light-hearted fashion.

  "And what is your price for silence!" Professor Patricia Fenwick whispered.

  "Patience." Aggie said "First, further proof of your plagiarism. The Red Giant in your original paper was called Strain 233.35. That, you may not realize was my father's birth date; 23/3/35 written the British way with the day before the month, was another bit of inbuilt security Dad had. Even though he loved you Patricia, the scientist in him suspected his love was not reciprocated and he guessed he could not trust you. Included in this published article are several other hidden passages to prove its authorship." She stopped for a minute and swung around. "Yes, they prove that he wrote the original paper. I have taken the liberty of highlighting these phrases in your research article." She paused. "I'm sorry, my father's article."

  A trembling hand with long manicured red fingernails reached out for the scientific journal and the professor read the five highlighted sections together with Angelina's crisp comments written beside them to explain the meaning of the codes.

  "How is Harold?" Patricia finally asked. The haughty professor was gone to be replaced by a vulnerable middle-aged woman.

  "Retired but getting on with life," Aggie responded.

  "And he sent you here?"

  "Oh no. He knows nothing of my visit. "

  Patricia nodded and placed the journal on the table. "I did have feelings for your father Angelina," she said.

  "Perhaps you did," Aggie conceded. "If that is true, my request will not be difficult for you,"

  "What is it?" Professor Fenwick's voice turned hard.

  "Alderfield Chemicals and Produce will release the alpha strain of Red Giant Potato onto the commercial market so growers can reseed their own crops. Call it gamma strain, if you wish. Also, within six months, an article will be published in a reputable scientific journal crediting my father with the discovery of this, so called, new strain.”

  "And in exchange?"

  "My paper presented to this conference tomorrow will make no mention of your indiscretions and all evidence will remain with my lawyer in New Zealand."

  "This is blackmail but I'll see what I can do," Professor Patricia Fenwick sighed and stood up. "Give my regards to Harold and tell him his daughter has grown into a scheming little bitch."

  "Possibly." Aggie beamed. "Perhaps two wrongs do make a right. Don't you agree?"

  The woman glared at her, was about to retort but instead, stood, flattened her skirt, walked across the room and held the door open for her visitor to leave.

  *

  A few weeks later a surprised Harold received a letter from an American publisher stating his paper would be published in their forthcoming scientific journal and a check for the publishing rights was enclosed.

  "What is this?" he spluttered and waved the document in front of Fiona.

  "She'll explain everything."

  Harold frowned. "I knew it," he muttered. "You and my daughter have been up to something ever since her Christmas visit."

  "Have we?" Fiona laughed but would say no more.

  *

  Breakfast on the first Monday in February arrived with different emotions for the Berg family members. It was the first day of the new school year; Julie was due at Feilding High School at eleven in the morning and she had all her luggage ready the evening before. She never said a lot but was somewhat timid at the idea of leaving home, even if it was only during the week.

  Kylena was fully prepared for her new school but was apprehensive about the children, the parents and the other two teachers under her care; Helen was excited, as she would be in the middle room with Mrs. O'Reilly. Being in Year 3 meant she was not a baby any longer. She was also determined to travel to her new school on the school bus that was due to arrive at eight fifteen, forty five minutes after Mommy's departure.

  Fiona found the idea of having to look after Caroline without Kylena, quite daunting but covered her nervousness and assured her daughter-in-law, as she described her, everything was fine and, anyhow, John was on the farm if things went wrong.

  "Sweetheart you look superb," John complimented as he looked up from his breakfast to see Julie walk in the room wearing her new school uniform.” It’s early. Though. We don't have to leave for ages yet."

  "I wanted Kylena to see it before she went to school then I'll put my old clothes on again." The thirteen year old pouted and switched attention to her stepmother. "The skirt's too long, isn't it?" she asked.

  "It's perfect, Julie, That’s the latest style." Kylena replied and winked at John. They had spent almost an hour the evening before getting it just right.

  "I feel funny," Julie gulped. "Uniforms are so different."

  "Sweetheart," John said. "There are over a thousand pupils at the school and, except for the seniors; they'll all be wearing a uniform. You'd be the one looking silly if you didn't have one."

  "I never thoug
ht of that," admitted Julie.

  *

  There were a handful Year 9 girls being shown around and they all looked crisp, clean and nervous as Mrs. Anderson, the hostel manager, showed them their rooms. It was time for John, Fiona and the baby to depart. Julie had just hugged her father and grandmother when a tall man in a suit came up with a smile on his face.

  "So you're Julie Berg," he said. "Welcome to Feilding High Julie. You know, we have three other American students here, a girl and two boys. Suzanne is a senior exchange student who is staying in this hostel. I'm sure Mrs. Anderson will introduce you to her later."

  "Hello," Julie replied shyly. She didn't know what to say to the stranger so turned to the adults behind her. "This is Dad, Grandma and my baby sister, Caroline," she blushed. "She's only two months old. Mom is the principal at Matakaka Valley School and is at work."

  The man smiled. "Yes, I heard of her appointment. You must be proud of her." He chatted away for a moment, excused himself with a "See you at school, Julie," and strolled away.

  "Who was that guy?” Julie asked.

  "Beats me," John shrugged. "Friendly, though."

  Mrs. Anderson who had witnessed the exchange stepped forward with a smile. "That was Mr. Harvey, our principal," she explained.

  "Oh my God," Julie gasped. “I didn't know."

  Somehow that act of kindness by the principal made Julie feel confident and proud. "You know, Dad. I think I'm going to enjoy it here. See you, Friday." She gave everyone a final hug and watched as they climbed in the car.

  "And I remember when she was Caroline's age," John said as they drove off. "Now she's a high school girl."

  "And did you notice?" Fiona added, "She's taller than the other Year 9 girls at the hostel. Julie is quite a young lady now."

  "Yes,” said John. "Time slips by far too quickly."

  *

  Across the Rangitikei River and along Junction Road, the morning was going well for the teachers and pupils. Kylena knew the trick with senior pupils was to keep them busy from the very first hour but she found there was nothing to worry about. Only Ken was left from the four obnoxious boys from the previous year and he couldn't be more cooperative. Melanie, who was one of a dozen Year 8 pupils in her class of twenty-one, knew her methods and, like Julie the year before, became a great help. Also, without younger children, Kylena was almost embarrassed with the spare time she had.