Trading Reality

by Michael Ridpath

  Rachel wasn’t going to wake up. So I put my foot against the dashboard, pulled her up out of her seat, and pushed her into the back. I crawled through to join her. The car lurched, but the rear wheels were obviously resting on something, because it remained nose down.

  It was dry in the back, but the car was almost completely submerged. Outside, there was a foot or so of clear air at the top of the rear window, and I could just see a steep bank silhouetted against a starlit sky.

  We had to get out quick.

  I lay on the seat with my legs braced against the back of the driver’s seat and one arm round Rachel’s chest. I took a deep breath, pulled the handle of the rear door, and pushed.

  It didn’t move. The water pressure held it shut. I put my shoulder to the door, and pushed. I would only need to open it a crack, and the water rushing in would make the rest easy. But it wouldn’t budge. It was no use trying the windows; they were operated by an electric switch which was already underwater.

  The front seat was completely submerged now, and the water was working its way up my legs again. It would only take a couple more minutes for the whole car to fill.

  I crawled up to the shelf on the back seat, so that my face was against the rear window, and pulled Rachel up with me. It was difficult, my muscles were not responding well to commands from my brain. Rachel was still unconscious.

  The water was covering the back seat, which I was now kneeling on. Not long to go.

  I tried to think. It was difficult. I don’t know whether it was the chloroform or the panic, but I couldn’t get my thoughts in order. I took some deep breaths to try to calm myself.

  The water was up to my thighs.

  Knock out the back window! Of course. The back window was out of the water, pointing up at the night sky, and a full moon.

  I tried to hit the window with my elbow. No result. I hit it harder. Still nothing. I hit it with the flat of my hands, with my fists. I thrashed at it, flailing my arms wildly. I even tried to break it with my head. Nothing.

  The panic leapt up inside me, and I scrabbled at the window more and more ineffectively, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I just couldn’t think.

  The water was up to my chest now, but it looked as if it had stopped coming in. It had reached the level of the river outside. Just the very back of the car stuck out into the air. I stopped struggling, to conserve air.

  I lay still, holding up the unconscious Rachel, trying to breathe slowly and evenly.

  I was freezing cold.

  Suddenly, I felt a sharp jolt, and the car lurched to the side. I saw a long branch of a tree hit the side of the car. I could just see the bank above the water. It was quite close, only a few feet away. Two figures were reaching out with the branch to the car, trying to dislodge it from whatever it was that was holding up the rear. The car wobbled, but remained stuck. They lunged again with the branch, and this time the car wobbled further.

  I could only see the paleness of their faces. I couldn’t make out their features. One was reaching out towards the car, while he was held by the other. They were both big.

  There was nothing I could do but cling on to Rachel, cling on to hope, and watch, as with every blow the car shifted half an inch.

  Suddenly, the two men stopped. I felt a wave of relief, but not for long. Within a minute they were back with a plank, longer and sturdier than the branch they had been using.

  They placed it against the rear of the car, and held it there. Then one of them leant into it, and pushed with all his might.

  I took a deep breath as the car slid under water. It turned over, and I had no idea which way was up. Everything was pitch black. I was still holding Rachel under one arm, but with only one hand, I couldn’t feel where I was, so I let her go. I reached for the door, and found the handle. I pushed it, and it opened. Of course! With water on the inside, the pressure had equalised. I kicked myself out of the car. I still didn’t know which way was up so I tumbled, kicking my legs until I felt the bottom. Then I pushed up.

  My head broke the surface, and I saw the two figures turning away from me and scrambling up the bank. They hadn’t seen me.

  I took a couple of breaths, and dived back down to the car. I felt for the open door, and reached in. No Rachel.

  I didn’t want to go back into that deathtrap, I couldn’t hold my breath much longer. But I crawled into the submerged car, feeling around with my hands. Where was she? Finally, my fingers brushed her hair. I pulled. She was caught in something. I was running out of air. Why not go back up, take another breath, and then untangle her? Because she’d die, that’s why. So I crawled in further. My chest felt as though it was being crushed by a boa constrictor. My ears were singing.

  Her jersey was snagged on the handbrake. I pulled it free, grabbed her hair, and kicked us both out of the car. I broke the surface with a whoosh. I looked up to the bank. The two figures had almost reached the top. I knew that when they did, they would turn round. I looked around me. I wasn’t in a river, but in some kind of loch. Behind me was what looked like a small island, with bushes reaching down to the water. It was only about ten yards away. I swam over on my back, trying not to make a sound, and to keep Rachel’s head above water. It was hard because our clothes were so heavy, and I still had my shoes on. But I made it.

  I pulled her under the bushes, just as the two men reached the top and turned to look down at the black water where the car had been. They exchanged a couple of words, and disappeared out of view.

  I grasped Rachel under her armpits, and pulled her up the bank. I laid her on her back as gently as I could, and looked down at her. She lay motionless in the damp grass. There was no time to lose. I knew the theory of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as everyone does. But I had never tried it on a living person before. Or at least I hoped she was living. I had no idea how long someone could stay with water in their lungs before they died.

  I felt her neck. I was pretty sure I could feel a faint pulse. Then I went to work. Water dribbled out from her mouth, but I didn’t see any response. I tried blowing in and pressing down with my hands. Still no response. I blew harder, pressed harder. Suddenly, I felt the chest beneath me move of its own accord. Rachel coughed, and more water emerged. Her breathing came quicker, fast and shallow. Her eyes flickered.

  A surge of relief. She was alive! Thank God, she was alive.

  I sat next to her for a few minutes trying to catch my breath and regain my strength. God, it was cold! I could make out the form of the landscape in the moonlight. We were on an island in a loch surrounded by hills. There was no sign of habitation; the only lights were the stars. But those men must have driven the car down a track, and the track must lead to a road.

  We couldn’t stay on the little island all night. I had to get Rachel to warmth and a hospital. So, with trepidation, I slid back into the water, and swam across, making sure Rachel’s head stayed above the surface. It was hard work pulling her up the steep bank.

  I was right, there was a forest track at the top. I shuddered as I peered down into the loch for the BMW, but its black form was impossible to make out in the dark water.

  I slung Rachel over my shoulder and began walking. She was heavy in her wet clothes, and I was tired and cold. At last we broke out of the forest and hit a small metalled road. I couldn’t see any buildings, but there was a clump of trees about a mile away that I hoped might hide a farm, so I headed for them.

  Rachel was getting heavier, almost too heavy to carry. I concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other. Gradually, the blackness around me turned to grey, as dawn emerged. Even in the improving light, I still couldn’t see any definite sign of habitation. It took for ever, but eventually I reached the trees, which did indeed hide a stone farmhouse. It had a bell. I leaned on it, and didn’t stop it ringing till someone opened the door.

  27

  We were in one of the administrators’ offices of the Perth Royal Infirmary. I was in hospital pyjamas and dressin
g-gown. Kerr and Donaldson were in front of me, Kerr bleary-eyed, Donaldson looking as if it were nine o’clock on a Monday morning instead of seven on a Sunday.

  Rachel was in one of the wards on a ventilator.

  It turned out we had been dumped in a loch in the mountains of Perthshire. An ambulance had come all the way from Perth to fetch us.

  ‘Now, are you sure you can’t give us anything to go on? Any description at all?’ Donaldson asked again.

  ‘No,’ I said, impatiently. ‘They were two big men. I didn’t get a look at their faces.’

  ‘Clothes? Hair colour? Voice?’

  ‘I didn’t hear them say anything. I think one of them had short brown hair.’

  ‘You’ve no idea what car they drove?’

  ‘No, I was drugged.’ Then I had a thought. ‘Yesterday afternoon when we were driving back from Glenrothes, we thought we were being followed. It was two workmen in a van. But they drove on at the turn-off into Kirkhaven.’

  ‘Now that’s good,’ said Donaldson. ‘Can you describe the van.’

  ‘It was a white Astra, I think.’

  ‘Did you get the registration number?’

  ‘No I didn’t!’ I was getting irritated.

  ‘OK, OK. Well, if you do think of anything else, let us know,’ said Donaldson.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll bother,’ I muttered.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Donaldson sharply. Kerr moved his eyebrows up a millimetre.

  I was tired, worried about Rachel, and my patience was wearing thin. ‘All that happens is you ask me questions, I answer them, and then someone else gets killed. As I said, I don’t know why I bother.’

  Donaldson glared at me, and stood up to leave. Kerr stayed put.

  When Donaldson had gone, Kerr said, ‘That wasn’t a very sensible thing to do, laddie. We’re trying our best.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, resignedly. I sipped the black coffee in my hand. Kerr just sat there, waiting. There was something comforting about the world-weary policeman in the bad suit. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Did you ever check out Yoshi Ishida’s story?’

  ‘Aye, we did. He was telling the truth. The manager of the Robbers’ Arms confirms that he was there to play golf for the weekend.’

  ‘But that might just be a cover. I could have sworn that he didn’t want Akama to find out where he was.’

  Kerr chuckled. ‘We checked that out too. The reason he wanted his wee trip kept quiet was that he wasn’t alone. He was with the wife of one of his colleagues. That could have been very embarrassing all round.’

  ‘Really?’ I thought that over. ‘It’s pretty unlikely that he would take his mistress with him if he was going to murder someone, isn’t it?’

  Kerr nodded. ‘I’d say we can rule him out.’

  ‘What about David Baker? Did you find him?’

  ‘We did. In Boston. He went to stay with an old friend from Harvard. He says he was under a lot of strain. He’d lost his job, and he found that hard to face. His wife says they had had several rows. He had told her what he was planning to do with Onada, and she’d finally lost her temper. He couldn’t have killed Doogie Fisher. And I doubt he killed your brother.’

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

  ‘Look, son. Whoever did this will probably try again. I’ll have a man watching your house for the next few days, and I’ll tell Sergeant Cochrane to keep his eyes peeled too. We can’t protect you for ever, but we’ll do what we can.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  ‘Now, let me drive you home.’

  Rachel was all right. They kept her on a ventilator under light anaesthetic for two days, and then she spent two more in hospital under observation. The doctor was confident that she would make a quick and full recovery.

  I spent the week focusing on Project Platform, and looking over my shoulder.

  The Project Platform system was ready for demonstration. The announcement was scheduled for SIGGRAPH, a trade exhibition in Florida at the end of July. The mass-production process would start just before then, when the design of the components would be finalised for manufacture in Singapore, Japan, and Taiwan. US suppliers would be cranked up shortly after that. We wanted to have product assembled and ready to ship by September.

  No matter how hard I looked, I didn’t see anyone over my shoulder. But I couldn’t be sure. I was as cautious as I knew how.

  I did receive another message on my answering machine from Karen’s mother. ‘Mark, it’s Daphne Chilcott speaking. I am really very worried about Karen. I must talk to you about her. Please come and see me in Godalming as soon as you can. Thank you.’

  I ignored it. For once, I wasn’t worried about Karen. And I liked it that way.

  I picked Rachel up from the hospital and took her to her flat in Glenrothes to collect some things. I insisted that she stay with me. Although we had been snatched from Inch Lodge, I was confident that she would be safer with me, now that there was a police presence. I had also installed locks on all the windows. I didn’t want anything else to happen to her.

  We were sitting drinking cups of tea in the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Yes. About Richard’s death. And the boathouse fire. And Doogie’s death. I think I can guess the connection.’

  ‘What?’ I asked excitedly.

  ‘It’s to do with information,’ she said. ‘Richard had some information, and he was murdered for it. But the murderer left some of the information behind, so he had to burn down the boathouse to destroy it.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said.

  Rachel continued. ‘Then Doogie discovered this information. And he was killed.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘So why did someone try to kill us as well?’

  ‘We must have it too.’

  I thought it through. ‘You could be right. But what is this information?’

  Rachel sighed. ‘I don’t know. We know it’s important; Doogie said it could ruin FairSystems. We can assume we have it, we just don’t know its significance.’

  ‘What about that list of companies the SEC gave us?’

  ‘I thought of that. We know Richard had the list. And, as you say, we’ve got it now. But we don’t know that Doogie had it. And it’s information that the authorities themselves hold.’

  We sat in silence for a long while. The more I thought about Rachel’s theory, the more it seemed to make sense. So what had been in the boathouse, then in Doogie’s possession, and now was in ours?

  I remembered the fire in the boathouse. All those papers burning. Me scrambling out with Richard’s computer clasped to my chest.

  ‘Richard’s computer!’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whatever this information is, Richard might have made a note of it in a file in his computer. Have you looked through all his files?’

  ‘Only some of them. I didn’t have time to look through everything. There’s an awful lot of it.’

  ‘Well, I bet it’s there somewhere. The fire was supposed to destroy the machine, but I saved it. Then, when Doogie broke into the factory, he downloaded the file from the computer and discovered something. He must have used it to blackmail someone else, and so he was killed. And now we have it, right there in your office!’

  ‘Let’s go!’ said Rachel.

  I drove quickly into Glenrothes. Rachel powered up Richard’s machine. ‘Hah! You were right. The hard disk has been reformatted.’

  ‘How could that happen?’

  ‘Doogie must have left a time bomb hidden in the machine. Everything would look normal for a period of time, say a week. Then the time bomb would instruct the computer to reformat the hard disk.’

  My heart sank. ‘Does that mean we’ve lost all the data?’

  ‘It means that the data in there was important enough for someone to erase it.’

  ‘But can we recover it?’

  Rach
el smiled, and reached into the bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out a small cassette. ‘A back-up tape.’

  She disappeared, and came back a moment later with a tape-streamer, a device which would enable her to reload the information on to Richard’s computer. In a few minutes, it was all there.

  Rachel called up the list of directories. Half of it was gobbledygook to me. ‘Let’s focus on the word-processing files. We can forget the others,’ she said.

  Rachel called up the sub-directories in the word-processing directory. There were six of them. Each one contained dozens more files.

  ‘Whew!’ I said. ‘Have you checked all these?’

  ‘No. Just those in the FAIRSYS and PLATFORM sub-directories.’

  ‘Well, you can bet Doogie checked them all. Come on. Let’s get going.’

  We went through every file in detail. Many were boring: bill payments, letters to insurance companies, that sort of thing. Some were fascinating. Richard had had a habit of writing notes to himself on certain topics, and saving them, to be altered or added to later.

  One of these was headed ‘Baker’. I was right! Richard had suspected that David Baker had been working with Onada.

  ‘Do you think that’s it?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘We suspected it, but it would be news to Doogie. And he could have caused us some damage with the information. He could have tried to blackmail David with it.’

  ‘But would it have been enough to kill for?’

  I thought about it. ‘I doubt it. David knew we suspected him anyway. I can’t see why he, or anyone else would kill Doogie for this. No. Next!’

  There were a number of files relating to BOWL. Richard had obviously been worried about Doogie and his activities. Still nothing there.

  One note related to the motorbike accident. It was a memo to Willie. But there was nothing really new in it. Besides, Doogie had probably seen it already when he had stolen the original Bergey letter.

  I reread Richard’s analysis of FairSystems share price movements. There was quite a lot of background material that he hadn’t shown us before. It took time to go through it all.