The Genesis Flaw

by L. A. Larkin

  She glanced at the woman next to her. She was reading a book. Serena’s eyes absent-mindedly scanned the first few sentences on the page as she grappled with her problem, and saw the words ‘multiple personality disorder’. It gave her an idea. If Keith said yes, she knew exactly what to do to discover the truth about Gene-Asis. She would re-invent herself. It was time to meet her alter ego.

  Chapter 19

  Back at the Coogee apartment, Serena phoned Keith’s mobile. He answered with his usual ‘Yep?’ She could hear a thumping sound in the background; someone was hammering in a fence post. She could see him in her mind’s eye: a big man with a slow and steady-as-she goes walk. He’d be wearing his wide-brimmed, sweat-stained hat and probably using his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

  ‘Keith, it’s me.’ He wouldn’t recognise her new number.

  ‘Hey, how ya goin’?’

  ‘I’m okay. Keith, I need to talk about T-Speed.’

  She waited. He was a man of few words who never rushed his response which could lead to some uncomfortable pauses in conversation.

  ‘Go on.’ His tone gave little away but Serena recognised a cautionary note.

  She described her visits to Dr McPherson and what he’d said about T-Speed. She knew better than to expect an instant emotional response from Keith, even though this product could have killed their father.

  ‘So, you were right all along.’

  ‘I don’t have any proof yet, only his word, but I want to get it.’

  Serena then explained her plan to unearth McPherson’s damning research document.

  ‘Sounds like something from a movie, sis. But, I guess, if anyone can get away with it, you can.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘Those bastards. They knew.’ His voice was barely a decibel louder but she recognised its angry edge. Some years back, when a developer had tried to pressure their dad into selling the farm, Keith had shown the men off the property, his shot gun casually draped over his arm. There’d been the same edge to his voice then as she heard now. ‘If you can’t get ’em your way, I’ll find this Bukowski and wring his neck myself.’

  ‘I’ll make it happen, Keith. Trust me. But there’s one obstacle and I have a plan about how to overcome it but I need you to be comfortable with it.’ She explained about the implied threat of the burned photograph and the words ‘LOVED ONES ARE SO PRECIOUS’ as well as McPherson’s, perhaps far-fetched, belief that Gene-Asis might kill people that got in its way.

  ‘If anyone comes near my family, they’ll regret it.’ This time he actually raised his voice, and the thumping noise in the background stopped. Whoever was with him—and Serena guessed it was Bernie—must have been taken aback.

  ‘Keith, these guys mean business. I want to prove T-Speed and Supercrop are killing people but I can’t if it puts you guys in danger.’

  ‘We’ll be right. I got Bernie-the-brick-shithouse here. Hey, Bernie,’ he called, ‘fancy kicking the shit out of some thugs?’ Serena could hear Bernie laughing. ‘Let me at ’em,’ she heard Bernie say.

  ‘Keith, I’m going to ask Shane and Jim to keep an eye out, to drive by the place regularly. I need to know you’re safe.’

  ‘Nah, we don’t need them. Don’t get me wrong, they’re good blokes, but I can take care of my own.’

  ‘If Gene-Asis know the police are watching the farm, they’ll think twice. Please, Keith, let them help out. They’ll want to. For Dad’s sake.’

  Another exhalation, this time slower and calmer.

  ‘Right-e-o then. Give ’em something useful to do, I guess. I’ll talk to the school as well, ask ’em to keep an eye on Katie.’

  ‘I’ll call Shane now. He’ll probably drop round to find out what’s going on. Can you keep Gene-Asis out of the conversation?’

  ‘No worries. You know me and so does Shane. Stubborn as. I’ll maybe hint those developers are back.’

  Serena couldn’t help but smile: stubbornness was definitely a family trait.

  She immediately called Shane. She only told him enough to ensure he and Jim would drive by the farm regularly and watch the school. He began asking probing questions and she told him she simply couldn’t tell him any more. He said he’d accept that for the present but if any threats were made directly to her family, she would have to file an official complaint.

  Her head was pounding by the call’s end. She’d drunk too much wine on the plane and was very dehydrated. She gulped down some tap water and swallowed a couple of painkillers. Her phone rang. Perhaps Shane had changed his mind?

  ‘Hello, my love. How are ya?’ It was Tracey. Serena docked her phone and turned on the monitor. Her friend was wearing pink pyjamas with black skulls dotted across them. Her platinum hair was still ferociously spiky despite its owner’s pallid weariness.

  ‘It must be the middle of the night there?’ said Serena.

  ‘Yeah, you know me: a night owl. Got your email. Something’s very fishy—Bukowski’s hiding something big. Now, tell me, how did you go with McPherson?’ Tracey fired out each sentence without pausing.

  Serena’s head throbbed. She covered her face with both hands.

  ‘My darling, what’s happened?’

  Serena uncovered her face and looked at her hands. They were shaking. While she’d been calmly practical when speaking to her brother and Shane, the full enormity of her task had begun to sink in. She was taking on a global corporation with more power than most governments.

  ‘Trace, I need your help. I can’t do this alone.’ Serena’s voice trailed away like a wave lost back to the ocean. Tracey was one of the few people with whom she could let her guard down.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Tracey again, her voice full of concern. She leaned closer to the screen, the stud in her nostril now apparent.

  ‘I … I’m going to nail Gene-Asis. I know how to do it. But … Trace, I gotta admit, it scares the hell out of me.’

  ‘Tell me what’s happened. What’s shaken you up?’

  ‘If I tell you, I could be putting your life in danger.’

  Tracey paused, studying Serena’s drawn face. ‘You’re not joking, are ya?’ Her over-plucked, pencil-thin eyebrows creased into a frown.

  ‘No, I’m not joking.’

  ‘Well, I can’t help ya, if you don’t tell me, now can I?’ Tracey smiled but her hands betrayed her tension: she was clicking her ballpoint pen on and off repeatedly. ‘I’m a journalist. I live dangerously. Come on, tell me.’

  Serena told her every detail of her trip to Shelleyman Bay, repeating word for word her conversations with McPherson and ending with the burned photograph.

  ‘Bloody hell. Bloody … hell,’ was all Tracey could say for a while. ‘Mate, this is frigging nasty stuff. I’d think long and hard before you do anything.’

  ‘I have. But now I know T-Speed’s dangerous, I can’t let it go. I’ve made my decision. I’m going to find McPherson’s report.’

  ‘Serena, mate, these people have threatened your family,’ said Tracey, clicking her pen at break-neck speed.

  ‘I’ve talked to Keith. He wants me to do it. And I’ve called in a favour with the local police. They’ll keep a close eye on them.’

  ‘Okay.’ The frantic pen clicking stopped. ‘But how you gonna get close enough to Gene-Asis to find evidence?’

  ‘I need to get a job there.’

  ‘I see where you’re going. Sort of like espionage. But, you know, spying is incredibly dangerous and Gene-Asis is anal about security. Are you sure?’

  ‘Trace, I won’t be getting a job there. It’ll be someone else.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Okay, here’s my plan. Tell me if you think it’ll work. I change my identity: new name, a fake résumé that’ll win me the job. The new me will have an unassuming personality, be the kind of person people work with every day but tend not to notice. And see this hair,’ she said, lifting some strands from her ponytail, ‘this is changing colour. Serena Swift will be no more.’

  Tracey s
pat out a laugh like she was spitting out burning hot soup. ‘Give me a break! They’re the most security-conscious company in the world. They’ll spot a fake ID before you’ve even crossed the threshold.’

  Serena shook her head. ‘No they won’t. This ID will be the best there is, because I know one of the best hackers in Australia and I’ve seen him create fake IDs. He hasn’t been caught out.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘John Flynn. My flatmate.’

  ‘Oh, that John.’

  ‘Yes, that John,’ replied Serena, blushing.

  ‘The same John who kissed you just before you came over here? The guy you ignored for four years?’ Tracey was grinning from ear to ear; Serena’s face was a lovely shade of beetroot.

  ‘Yes, Trace, that John. The same guy who slept with someone else the very night he kissed me.’ Serena’s tone was sharper than she’d intended. ‘Sorry, Trace. I didn’t mean to get snippy. Now, can we get back to my new identity?’

  Tracey nodded but Serena could tell she was suppressing a smirk. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘But why would he do this for you? It could land him in prison.’

  Serena glanced around the room, searching for an answer. ‘We go back a long way.’ She paused, thinking it through. ‘And if he won’t, I’m sure he’ll know someone who will.’

  ‘It better be damn good.’

  Serena nodded and, deep in thought, fell silent. Tracey chewed her pen and said, ‘Okay. Let’s say the ID is good enough. How are you going to get a job there?’

  ‘I thought about asking Baz, John’s brother, to help, but that’d be asking him to lie for me and I draw the line at that. And, anyway, I think Baz’s company only recruits scientists and technical roles. I can talk my way into most things but a scientific job isn’t one of them.’

  ‘Ah, you don’t want to compromise Baz but you’re happy to involve John.’

  Tracey had a knack for going for the jugular. Serena blushed at her own double standards. ‘I guess it’s because he’s encouraged me to take on Gene-Asis, whereas Baz doesn’t know anything about it. And John always used to be the bad boy. He loves to live on the edge.’

  ‘So it’s got nothing to do with how close you two were?’

  ‘Tracey, you’re unbelievable,’ exclaimed Serena. ‘I’ve checked out Gene-Asis vacancies. Here, take a look.’ She shared her screen with Tracey so that she could see exactly what Serena saw on her monitor. ‘Their Sydney office employs over 600 people.’ She tapped through the Gene-Asis job vacancies on the internet.

  ‘Here we go. Researcher, biophysics. Nope. Accountant, nope; I’m shit at maths. Ah, this is it: Executive Personal Assistant, with Cantonese and Japanese language skills. I can do that.’ Serena screwed up her nose. ‘Well, almost do it. I know enough Japanese to get by.’ She continued reading the details aloud until Tracey stopped her midsentence.

  ‘Oh my God. It’s the new CEO’s PA. Which means you’ll be reporting to Bukowski.’

  Serena nodded. ‘Until the new CEO starts, by which time I’ll be out of there. I’m hoping I’ll only need a week or so.’

  Tracey wasn’t leaping up and down with excitement. She was chewing the end of her plastic pen again. ‘What’s up?’ asked Serena.

  ‘Mate, that’s too close. I mean, that’s like putting your head in the lion’s jaws. Nah, find something else.’

  ‘No way. This is perfect. I’ll see his emails, hear his calls, make his appointments. It’s exactly what I want.’

  ‘Serena, you know me, I always tell you how it is. Well, this is how I see it. Yeah, perhaps Gene-Asis have cut a few corners and not tested all their products properly. And, yeah, Mancini topped himself. And some dodgy cops tried to scare you away from McPherson. But welcome to the big brutal world of global corporations, my love. It doesn’t necessarily mean Bukowski has crossed the line. But, and this is a big but …’ She paused to gnaw at her pen, which she cracked with her teeth and then continued. ‘If you think he has gone too far, then he’ll be watching out for anyone sniffing around asking the wrong questions. And if he catches you, God knows what he might do.’

  Serena leaned back, pulled her ponytail out of the scrunchy and shook out her hair. ‘It’s too good to miss, Trace. I’m going to get that job.’

  Tracey threw up her hands. ‘Okay, okay. Have it your way. I’m in whatever. So, you said you needed my help. What help?’

  Serena leaned closer to the monitor. ‘I need you to fly to Zimbabwe. Talk to the participants in the food trials. Gather evidence and check out McPherson’s story. Take a video camera if you can, make a documentary. Can you do that, Trace?’

  ‘Hmm. I got some leave owing so, yes, I can do it. But the story is exclusively mine. Right?’

  ‘Trace, it’ll be all yours. I’ll need you to get the truth out. This battle won’t be won in the courts; it’ll be won in the media. We need public opinion on our side.’

  Tracey leaned back with her hands behind her neck. ‘This story could make me famous. This could be bigger than Watergate, Enron, or the Madoff scandal.’

  Serena nodded. ‘You can have all the fame. I just want the truth.’

  Tracey had opened a small ring-bound notebook and was jotting down some notes. Unlike many of her peers, she still liked to make notes the old way. ‘First up, I’m gonna contact our man in Zimbabwe. If he can find out where the trials took place, I’m flying out there. Did the prof give you any clue? A name of a town where they did the tests?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Can you see him again and ask?’

  ‘No. He’d freak. You should’ve seen how terrified he was, and I mean, terrified. He won’t speak to me again.’

  ‘All right, what about writing to him? We need to know places, names, more precise dates; that sort of thing. Otherwise, I’m looking for a needle in a haystack.’

  ‘I’ll find a way. Leave it to me. But can your man be trusted?’

  ‘It’s all right, he’s an ex. And, don’t worry, I’ll tell my editor I need a break and I’m going somewhere exotic for a week or two. I won’t tell him what I’m up to, otherwise he won’t let me go.’

  ‘And I’ll find the document. Together with your interviews, we’ve got Gene-Asis in the bag. But we need to be thorough. If we don’t get enough evidence, they’ll bury the story and us with it.’ Serena paused, chewing her lower lip. ‘Are you sure your editor will run the story? Let’s face it, Tanning owns The Post and he’s good mates with Bukowski.’

  ‘Mate, with a story this big, I bet you a billion dollars Charlie will run it front page. Once it’s run, how can Tanning fire him—or me, for that matter? Circulation will go through the roof! He’ll have broken the biggest story in corporate history.’

  Serena was silent, taking it all in, then said quietly, ‘Let’s do it.’

  ‘You’re on.’

  ‘One last thing, Trace. I think we should use secure phone and email lines. I think I’m pretty much okay but I’ll double-check with John. You may need someone to help you secure yours. We need to be sure they can’t eavesdrop on us.’

  ‘Let’s hope they haven’t already started.’

  Chapter 20

  Serena had been waiting nervously for John to come home and now that he had, she wondered if her plans were about to unravel. His body language was not positive; his arms were crossed and she wasn’t sure if his frown was one of concentration or anger. Serena had told him about the threatening note, her conversations with the professor and her plan to work at Gene-Asis using a fake ID. John had initially been reclining nonchalantly on the sofa, sipping at his beer. Now the drink sat on the coffee table, forgotten and warm, sweating in its glass bottle, as he leaned forward.

  ‘So, I guess you’re really glad I moved in, huh?’ she said, trying to get him to look at her.

  He didn’t reply straight away, but shook his head once, not in answer to her question, but as if he were trying to wake up.

  ‘My God, Seri, are you out of your mind? The cops,
the note. These people mean business. You can’t do this.’

  ‘What? Only a few days ago, you were egging me on, telling me that I’d get another chance to go after Gene-Asis, and now I’m doing something about it, you’re saying I’m out of my mind.’

  ‘Seri, this is different. You’re planning on doing something criminal. I meant challenge Gene-Asis through your lawyers, not break the law.’

  ‘This is the only way. I have no evidence and I have to get that evidence. You said I’d get a second chance to prove they killed Dad. Well, this is it.’

  He shook his head slowly and then looked straight at her.

  ‘Seri, I know where you’re heading with this and I’m not going to do it.’

  Serena looked into his eyes: they were steely. She could see that he was ready to walk out, so she leaned forward and took his hand. It was surprisingly cool; hers was warm with desperation. She needed John on board or her plans would collapse. ‘Please, John, just let me explain.’

  ‘I’m not helping you hack their system,’ he said. ‘I don’t do that anymore. Just keeping up with hacker friends is problematic enough. And I’m not creating your fake ID.’ He pulled his hand away and stood up, then leaned on the windowsill, his back to her. She walked up to him and sat on the sill so that they were side by side, one facing in, the other out.

  ‘Please, let me explain. I can’t work there as Serena Swift. The cops in Shelleyman will have fed my details back to Gene-Asis by now. And you’re the best. I’ve seen you do it. Please, John.’

  He looked sideways at her. ‘That was a long time ago and it was only a bit of fun. This would have to withstand rigorous security checks. You’d need a passport, driver’s licence and tax file number, at the very least. It’s a serious crime.’

  Serena pictured an angry teenager with short brown hair and sapphire-blue eyes creating a fake driver’s licence so that he could drive to a party some distance away and buy alcohol on the way. John had been fifteen at the time. He’d then progressed to setting up a mate who’d just left prison with a whole set of fake IDs.