The Genesis Flaw

by L. A. Larkin

  ‘Does he have email or a phone number?’ asks John.

  ‘Nothing, he lives like a hermit. And his letters are read.’

  ‘That makes it hard. I’ll have to call in a favour.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘A mate of mine is a pilot up there. Seaplanes. I’ll ask him to call in on McPherson. If needs be, he can fly the professor out of Shelleyman Bay. Are you able to give me the address?’

  ‘Yes. At least I can remember that,’ Serena replies, with a half smile. ‘But why would your mate do that?’

  ‘A few years back, we were surfing together and he got dumped by a really big wave. Didn’t come up. I got him to the beach and did CPR.’

  ‘You saved his life?’

  ‘Pretty much. And now I’m calling in the favour. I’ll ring on the way to the hospital.’

  Serena pushes herself up to a sitting position.

  ‘No hospital, no police. All I care about is my family. If they’ve touched a hair on their heads, so help me, God, I will destroy them.’

  She clambered unsteadily to her feet.

  ‘I need to scrub away the filth on me.’

  John’s phone rang. It was Shane, wanting to pump him for information. Kerry had gone into labour, and Keith and Katie were with her at the hospital. They were safe for now.

  ‘Mate, do us a favour. Find them somewhere to stay near the hospital. Don’t let them go home.’

  ‘What’s going on, John? Have they been threatened?’

  ‘Yes, but I can’t say any more.’

  ‘You’re putting me in a very difficult position.’

  ‘I know, mate. But you know me, you know Serena. This is important, otherwise we wouldn’t ask.’

  ‘I’m on it.’

  Chapter 46

  Foggy-headed and disoriented, she dragged herself out of bed before her alarm rang and turned on the kettle. At least the nausea had subsided. Serena had hoped that this morning she might remember something, anything, of the rest of Friday night. A face; she wanted to see his face.

  Waiting for the kettle to boil, she forced her mind back to that night but the part she wanted to visualise was a black hole. She could only recall smoking the heroin-laced joint. It was as if she had been watching a scene from a movie and part of it had been edited out and lay somewhere on the cutting room floor. She wanted to pick up those pieces so she could view them, but they’d been swept away. She covered her face with her palms, weighed down by self-loathing and fear. She was disgusted by her own naïveté, which had potentially put her friends and family in danger. She was disgusted by the violation of her body. She found no semen but the wound to her thigh, her bruises, her partly done-up dress, the drugs and, most repugnant of all, the rancid stench of men’s sweat all over her, led her to believe it must have happened. But, most of all, she was disgusted by the tiny, nagging doubt that she had perhaps encouraged the man. Had she, at least partly, brought it on herself?

  Removing her hands from her face, Serena forced herself to select a mug from the cupboard and place a teabag in it. She added a second, needing an extra-strong brew. Today was an important day.

  She felt an arm around her shoulder, and jumped with fright.

  ‘It’s just me,’ said John.

  She allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms, her head resting against his warm bare chest.

  ‘You don’t need to do this, Seri. Please don’t go back there. We’ll find another way to nail these bastards.’

  A tear ran down her nose and then trickled down his chest. John’s gentle hug was comforting and Serena could have stayed there forever. But she pulled back, mustering some inner strength, and he released her.

  ‘Where’s the B0r3r?’

  ‘No,’ he replied, ‘I can’t let you do this. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘John, you’ve been amazing. Truly amazing. I don’t know how to thank you enough for looking after me. But I will do this, with or without you. I can’t stop now.’

  ‘Serena, please. You’re in shock. Bukowski may have raped you. Regardless, he hurt you. If nothing else, it was a warning. You can’t just walk back into his office and pretend that nothing happened.’

  ‘But that’s exactly what I have to do. They’ll think I won’t remember anything, and they’re right; I can’t. I’m probably alive today because they know those drugs wiped my memory clean. So, yes, I’ll go to work as normal. But don’t think the very thought of this isn’t terrifying me.’

  He stroked her arm.

  ‘How can you look at me like that when I’ve been such a fool?’ she said, hanging her head.

  ‘You’re not a fool. You’re the victim, Serena. Remember that. There is some low-life out there who drugged you and, and … I’d like to find him and smash his face in,’ John said, with such vehemence she was jolted out of her self-pity.

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘I’ll be all right.’

  ‘If you get scared, need help, anything, call me.’

  ‘I’m worried about Trace. I’ve heard nothing.’

  ‘Maybe she thinks your smartphone is compromised?’

  ‘Maybe, but I’ll call the British High Commission, anyway. I checked with some of her friends. Nothing. No contact. I even called her editor, pretending I didn’t know she was on leave, and he has no idea where she is.’

  ‘Let me. I can use my position at the bank to cut through some red tape. I’ll report her missing, no contact for several days. I’ll get them to send someone to Mutenda. With all the political upheaval, it’s a dangerous place for a foreign woman by herself.’

  The front door burst open and Baz’s overnight bag was dropped in the hallway, followed by Baz himself. His motorbike helmet hung over his arm.

  ‘Hey, guys, how’s it going? The Blue Mountains were awesome,’ he called from the hallway, as he headed straight into the kitchen. He found Serena and John standing face to face in the middle of the room, the lack of space between them suggesting a certain intimacy. He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

  ‘So, looks like you two had a good weekend then.’

  ‘Not really,’ replied Serena, unable to look at him. Instead, she looked at John.

  ‘You tell him, I can’t.’

  Baz’s smile evaporated at the misery in her voice. He looked at his brother for an explanation.

  ‘I’d better get ready for work,’ Serena said, leaving the kitchen.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Baz.

  ‘Mate, I’ll tell you in a sec. Bear with me,’ replied John, leaving the kitchen. He handed Serena an envelope with the B0r3r keylogger inside. She hooked one part through each ear. Then she checked her bag: two smartphones. One she was using, one she hadn’t. Just in case.

  Chapter 47

  The executive-suite doors slid open to a silent office. Serena had intended to be the first one in but, staring down the length of the suite, she spied Bukowski in his office. His head was bent over and he was reading. His hair immaculate, his shirt perfectly pressed, his tie with its conservative angled stripes; he was every bit the fine, upstanding corporate leader.

  Her legs felt weak and her hands shook but she’d be damned before she’d let Bukowski see her fear. This was her last chance. He, no doubt, felt triumphant. She would play that to her advantage. He wanted her under control. He wanted her weak. She could feign both.

  Taking a deep breath, Serena walked slowly towards her desk. He still didn’t look up, appearing to be engrossed in his work. She checked the other offices, all of which were empty. It would be another fifteen minutes or so before more staff arrived. Voices telling her to run were screaming in her head and it took all her willpower to stand firm.

  Act as if nothing’s happened. You have to.

  She was at her desk, trying to move her tongue so that she could bid Bukowski a greeting, when he spoke.

  ‘Good morning, Amber,’ he said, without raising his head, ‘How’s the party girl?’
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  White-hot rage shot through her body. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to accuse him, to scratch his face, to kick and punch him. But she forced herself to stand tall and fix on a smile. She had to focus on the prize: the evidence and, with it, Bukowski’s downfall. She forced a casual rhythm into her step as she entered his office. Breathing in his aftershave almost made her retch, its fragrance sickeningly familiar. Then there was a memory flash from Friday night: his face close to hers, offering her a joint.

  ‘Good morning, Al, and thanks for a great party.’ The words stuck in her throat.

  He made her wait before he looked up, reinforcing his power. He smirked and folded his arms across his chest, as if he were examining a choice of whores in a brothel.

  ‘From what I hear, you had a good time.’ He winked, ‘Quite a girl, aren’t you, Amber!’

  Serena wanted to reach across the desk and slap his face. She dug her fingernails into her clenched hands: she mustn’t rise to the bait.

  ‘I think I had a little too much to drink,’ she responded, grimacing. ‘I had such a hangover. To be honest, I can’t remember very much of the evening.’

  ‘Really? What about that guy you went home with?’

  His coal-black eyes watched her face. Like an eagle hovering above its prey, ready to strike, he waited for her response. His words gave her a sudden jolt; Serena hadn’t considered that possibility. She didn’t believe him. The CFO and lawyer departed early, she was sure of that. That left six. And the only single man was Bukowski. He watched her face intently and appeared to relish her confusion.

  ‘Who did I go home with?’ she asked, sitting down, looking at the floor in fake embarrassment. She would play along.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I didn’t see you leave.’

  ‘Someone must have?’

  ‘Probably no one. The party was in full swing when you disappeared but I do remember you were very drunk.’ He leaned forward, his chin in his hand. ‘Amber, why all the questions? Don’t you know the guy you went home with?’ His tone mocked her. She didn’t respond and he roared with laughter. She clung onto her composure, reminding herself that his smug certainty of her amnesia would be his downfall.

  ‘Al, what drugs did we take?’

  ‘Whoa, little lady. As far as I’m concerned, we didn’t take anything. I don’t do drugs.’

  He was a liar. She remembered the heroin-laced joint clearly.

  ‘Listen to me, Amber. And listen well. I did not take any drugs and nor did my guests. If you took something with this guy, then that’s up to you. But do not go around spreading lies about me. I will not allow it.’

  He played the moral outrage to perfection. He would have fooled a jury.

  ‘I’m sorry, Al,’ she said meekly, ‘It’s just that, I can’t remember much at all. I was kinda hoping you might be able to, well, fill me in.’ Serena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The discomfort was genuine but she was feeling far from meek. Her rage was beyond white hot; it ran like ice through her veins. It drove her on, keeping her ruthlessly on course. She would do anything to convince him she wasn’t a threat.

  ‘I can’t. I must say that your behaviour is very disappointing. I expected better of you, Amber.’ He tutted and pointed his finger at her. ‘This is not how I expect my PA to behave. Who knows who this guy was or what you told him. Come to think of it, of the twenty, thirty, people there, there were some guys I didn’t recognise. How do I know you can keep our company secrets?’ He shook his head, as if he were at the gates of heaven, refusing entry to a sinner.

  Serena could see where he was heading and she didn’t like it. ‘Al, I would never betray Gene-Asis.’ She, too, could pretend outrage. She stood abruptly. ‘My employment record is exemplary and my sex life is my own business.’

  ‘True, but drugs are another matter. I’m sorry, Amber, but you are a security risk and however slight that potential risk is, I have to terminate your employment.’

  Game, set and match to Bukowski. Or so he thought. She mentally swore at herself for mentioning the drugs—she’d handed him the winning move.

  ‘But, Al, I love it here. Can’t we just keep this between ourselves? Please.’

  ‘I would like to, Amber. But it’s out of my hands.’ He shrugged, as if being CEO were a powerless position.

  ‘But the Osaka paper? That’s due today. You’ll never find anyone at such short notice. Please give me another chance.’ Serena clasped her hands together under her chin, as if in prayer. She was giving him exactly what he wanted—she was begging.

  He clearly allowed himself a few glorious seconds to enjoy her grovelling and then turned his mind to the Osaka document.

  ‘You’ll do the English translation and then you’ll be escorted from the building. Sue will look after everything else. You will not be able to access any other documents. I will downgrade your building access to this office and the lobby only. You will not be allowed anywhere else,’ Bukowski said, deadpan. He then turned the charm back on and smiled congenially, as if they were the best of friends. ‘I am in and out of meetings all day, so let me say thank you, Amber, for all your hard work, and I wish you all the best for the future.’

  He graciously put out his right hand to shake hers and, as he leaned across the desk, she saw his left hand adjust the crotch of his pinstripe trousers. Bile shot into her mouth as she realised he had an erection. Disgusted, she held back, unwilling to touch him. But she had to play the game, so took his proffered hand. A static shock passed from him to her, and she pulled her hand back instantly. Bukowski appeared not to feel it and returned to his documents, ignoring her presence.

  Serena walked slowly from his office and out of the executive suites, and then raced to the Ladies, where she threw up violently.

  Chapter 48

  She washed her mouth out with water and wiped her face dry with paper towels. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Pale, with dark bags under her eyes, shoulders slumped, hands still shaking.

  ‘Stay focused,’ she said to her reflection.

  She shook her head. Being in Bukowski’s presence was like being violated again. Serena knew that to succeed she must stay close to him but that very closeness revolted her. She needed to get away from the building for a few minutes. She left the bathroom and jabbed her finger at the elevator call button. The lift arrived instantly and she took it to the ground floor and walked around the block, repeating to herself over and over the steps she had to take to find McPherson’s file. Back on mission, she joined the tide of people entering the building and dived for the nearest elevator, the doors of which had just begun to close. Inside were two people: a woman she recognised from payroll, and Darko Petrinec. He was lounging against the elevator wall and, on seeing her he grinned, revealing his crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. She instinctively moved to the opposite side of the elevator. His pale eyes studied her.

  ‘Good morning, Amber.’

  ‘Morning, Darko.’ Her cheery reply sounded shrill to her but only she seemed to notice.

  ‘You enjoy the party, yes?’

  The payroll woman, overweight and in her fifties, eyed them both.

  ‘Er, yes, thank you,’ she replied politely. The elevator’s cramped confines were making her feel hot and she didn’t want to be having this conversation. She flashbacked to Friday night. ‘Not too well brought up, I hope,’ he’d said, referring to her, his tone lascivious. She shuddered.

  ‘You are leaving us today?’

  So Darko knew already. They had planned it.

  ‘Yes, today.’ But not until I have what I came for, she thought.

  He took a few steps closer. She smelled his stale cigarette breath and, through his clean shirt, a hint of body odour. Panic engulfed her, her heart pumping, her mind telling her to get away from him. Suddenly, the black hole in her memory began to fill. Fractured images of the latter part of Friday night filled her head. She remembered his smoker’s breath on her. She remembered his acidic body odour. She remember
ed him helping Bukowski position her lifeless body. She saw the dark figure moving, gripping her from behind. She heard the words ‘I own you, bitch.’ And she remembered then that Bukowski had toyed with her paralysed body. He’d been about to rape her when John’s arrival interrupted him.

  Darko was talking to her but she didn’t hear a word. She froze, watching his mouth move, horrified at their brutality, at their arrogance, at the way they calmly acted as if nothing had happened. Darko was Bukowski’s Beelzebub, doing his dirty deeds and assisting in his sadistic pleasures. Involuntarily, she asked, ‘Why?’ He looked at her curiously.

  ‘Why, what?’

  She stared at him, gathering her thoughts. ‘I mean, you and Al are such great friends. I hadn’t realised.’

  ‘Oh yes, many years. It’s about trust. He trusts me totally.’

  The payroll woman watched her feet, recognising she was not a party to this conversation. Darko continued, ‘We all have a friend we trust with our lives but sometimes we make the mistake of burdening them with too much, sharing too many secrets. It can be a dangerous road.’

  Until that point, Serena had assumed he was talking about his friendship with Bukowski but then it dawned on her that he was saying this pointedly to her.

  ‘Zimbabwe is a dangerous place,’ Darko said and grinned a nicotine-stained smile.

  It took every bit of her self-control not to display the shock on her face. He was studying her as he lounged against the elevator wall. Like Bukowski, he was tormenting her, safe in the belief she was powerless and defeated.

  She was saved by the elevator doors opening at her floor and she stepped out hastily. Then the woman spoke. ‘Excuse me for interrupting but if you’re leaving today, can you come and see me later? I’m Julie in payroll.’ She was preventing the doors from closing.

  Serena stared at her blankly and Darko walked off, whistling to himself.