“Who's the presentation to?” she asked, finding herself reluctant to talk about her day, despite having thought of nothing else but getting it off her chest for the past few hours.
“Wouldn't you rather tell me whatever it is you dragged me out here for? I assume you went to give the package to this Gavin bloke. What was the master criminal like then?”
Ginny's reluctance was developing into full-blown paranoia. She really shouldn't say anything else. Della knew too much already thanks to her blurting it all out the night before last. Now Ginny knew about a dead man – one she had not reported to the police – and she had been threatened by an armed woman, and handed over the package to her, with its stolen data or whatever it was. Ginny was up to her neck in something truly awful and the very idea of telling anyone about it – even Della – filled her with horror. In fact, it made the whole thing seem even worse and more dangerous than it had seemed at the time. Even if Dover Richards wasn't a policeman, it wouldn't be long before the real police were involved and then Ginny might wish she hadn't been blabbing to Della about it all.
“Well?” Della asked, giving Ginny a start.
She tried to act nonchalant. “Well nothing really. It was all a big anticlimax. I went round to the address and nobody was there. I just left the package and went home.”
“You just left it? A box full of heroin or whatever? Where did you leave it?”
Ginny hadn't expected to be grilled on the subject. “I don't know. On the doorstep. I'm sure he'll find it.”
“The doorstep? When was the last time you saw your own doorstep? Well, yesterday, obviously, but normal people aren't always popping out to meet crime bosses. I don't think I've seen my doorstep for days, not since the weekly shopping was delivered. That package is probably still sitting out there. Anybody could find it. Some kids could pick it up and kill themselves. Ginny, what were you thinking of?”
“It'll be all right, really. I'm sure he's got it.” Oh for God's sake.
“How can you be sure? That stuff might be dangerous, really dangerous. What if it's explosives or something? Or a biological weapon? What if Gavin's a terrorist?” Della put her hand to her mouth. “I hadn't thought of that. What if he is, Ginny? What if there's something really horrible in that package? We should probably go to the police. There might be some kid running around right now with a bioweapon in his pocket. We have to – ”
“It was only data cubes.” Ginny didn't know what else to do except tell the truth to shut Della up. Her friend stopped with her mouth open and stared, waiting for more. “I took a peek before I left it. I just wanted to be sure it was OK.”
“Data cubes?”
“Data cubes.”
“Did you look at what was on them?”
“No.” She raised a hand to stop Della going off again. “And I don't care what's on them. In fact, I don't want to know. It could be stolen commercial secrets, or even military secrets for all I care. I'm just glad to be rid of it.”
Della regarded her with her head cocked. “This isn't like you, Ginny. Don't you worry about what's going on? Don't you care who might get hurt? What if it's kiddie porn and the police could have used those cubes to crack an international paedophile ring or something?”
Ginny pushed back her hair with an exhausted sigh. “I thought I'd just get it off my chest that the package was gone and this whole stupid affair is over and finished. Can you just leave it alone, now? I'm sick to death of it. I haven't done a stroke of work for the past two days and my legs ache from all that cycling, and I'd just like to put it all behind me and get on with my life. So, can we please drop it now?”
“Cycling?”
“It's a long story.”
Della looked unhappy. “What are you not telling me, Ginny?”
“Nothing. Can we change the subject now?”
“I still don't like – ”
Ginny raised her voice. “I'll go back there and make sure he got the package, OK? I'll go back and face this dangerous criminal and ask him if he got the package. Just so that you don't have to worry, all right? Will that satisfy you?”
Della drew back, looking hurt. “You don't have to be like that. It's your mess. I was just trying to help. Leave your kiddie porn out in the open for anybody to find, or let your dangerous criminal friends sell it. It's all the same to me. I can see you're completely on top of the situation and you don't need my advice.” She got up and tossed some notes on the table – metaphorically paying for the coffee. “I've got to be going. Big presentation. Catch you later.”
Ginny watched her leave, wanting to call her back and apologise, but wanting her to be gone, too, so that she wouldn't have to go on lying and being evasive.
-oOo-
She climbed out of the tank and kicked it, stomping into the kitchenette to scowl at the inside of her fridge. Nothing there improved her mood, so she flopped onto the sofa and scowled at the wall. She should be working. She really should be working. But now Della had filled her head with images of kids blowing their hands off, or dying of heroin overdoses. Ginny had not even considered such gruesome possibilities. Now she couldn't help thinking of what she might have done. She had not wanted to know what was in the package. It was almost certainly something bad, even if it was just data. Half the world was 'just data' these days. Probably much more than half. The thought of what might be on those data cubes, and what Tonia and her cronies might do with it, was one she had been avoiding. And she'd been avoiding it successfully until she'd let Della get under her skin about it.
There were several messages on her queue. One was from the development manager at WorldEnough, a company she had worked for in the past and who were considering a proposal of hers at the moment. She didn't feel like dealing with that right now. If she hadn't won the work, she'd feel even more desperate than before. If she had won it, she'd have another project to feel guilty about not working on. On the other hand, there were only two other messages that were not junk. One from her father and one from Dover Richards.
She knew what her father wanted. Her mother had nagged him into calling her to do something she didn't want to do – apologise, or visit, or whatever. As for Dover Richards, she had it on Tonia's authority that the smarmy creep wasn't a real policeman and was probably the man who murdered Gavin. She definitely wasn't going to take that call.
She got up and paced across the room. What if he came round to see her again? What if he was out in the hallway, right now, waiting for her? He thought she had information about Cal, or the package maybe. What if he decided to stop playing at being a policeman and question her more directly? She stopped pacing and looked at the door. What if he decided she didn't know anything and that he ought to kill her, just so there'd be no loose ends? She kept staring at the door, thinking about him out there, just a few metres away. It struck her just how flimsy a barrier a door was. She always thought of doors as substantial things. They shut out the world. They created a space of safety and privacy inside, an inviolable space, a secure space. But that wasn't true, she realised. A man like Richards probably didn't see doors that way at all. They could be kicked in, the locks shot away, the hinges smashed. Gavin had died after a door he might have once trusted became, not a protective barrier, but a convenient means of entry for his killer.
The urge to take a look outside grew almost irresistible. Yet, even if she had wanted to, she hadn't the courage to open that door, not while a killer might be lurking out there.
The knock came like three rapid gunshots and Ginny cried out in shock and fear, every muscle tensing as if she'd been electrocuted. She stumbled away from the door, wide-eyed with terror. A man's voice shouted something but she couldn't make it out. She looked around. She had to get out. Run. There was a window behind her. She looked at it and outside she saw sunlight filtering through the canopy of a beautiful rain forest clearing. She blinked, momentarily confused. Then she pushed her augmentation down and down until she could see the real street with its scruffy nat
ure strip and the shabby buildings opposite. She was on the first floor. She'd have to climb down somehow.
There was another knock, louder than the first and another shout. Ginny grabbed the window lock, her fingers clumsy and awkward. She couldn't get it open. She broke a nail, sobbing with frustration. Damn it to Hell! She had to get out. She'd have to smash the window. She looked about her for something to hit the glass with. There was a chair, over by the door. That would do. But she couldn't go near the door. Not with him outside.
The door burst open with a crash and a man stood there in the hallway, half-concealed behind the wall, holding a black, evil-looking gun, and pointing it straight at her. Her heart seemed to burst inside her chest. Blackness poured in from all sides and she felt herself floating away.
-oOo-
She woke up on her own sofa. The gunman leaned over her. She tried to scrabble back away from him but he grabbed her shoulders and held her down.
“It's all right,” he said. “You're safe. I'm with the police. Everything's all right.”
He looked so earnest. He seemed worried. He had nice eyes, but they were worried eyes. She tried to look past him, looking for Dover Richards.
“It's Virginia, isn't it?” the man with the worried eyes said. “Virginia Galton?”
She nodded, tight-lipped. Would he kill her now he'd confirmed her identity?
“I don't know who you were expecting, Virginia, but I promise you, I'm a policeman. My name is Mike. I'm sorry about the door but I heard you cry out and then... well, you were whimpering. I thought something was going on in here. I thought someone was hurting you. Look, I'm going to let you go now.” He pulled his hands free of her shoulders and stepped back from her. “See? There's nothing to be afraid of.”
Ginny looked again around the room. The door was closed but the catch for the deadlock was hanging loose. There was nobody else with them. “Who are you?” she asked, struggling to sit up. He didn't try to stop her.
With patience, the stranger said again, “My name is Mike. Detective Constable Mike Chu. I'm with the Queensland Police Service. Can't you see my ID?”
Of course she could see it. She just didn't believe it.
“What are you doing here? Why did you break in like that?”
His worried eyes studied her face for a moment, a sure sign he was using minimal aug too. “Would you like me to call up a medic? You don't seem to be quite yourself.”
Ginny didn't know what to do. The man seemed so genuine. She looked him over again. Tall, slender, with an Asian cast to his features, and cheekbones she would have died for. His skin was smooth and his eyes large and deep. A hint of a frown ruffled his otherwise flawless forehead. He looked intelligent and concerned.
“I'm fine,” she said. “Did Dover Richards send you?”
His head turned slightly in query and for a second or two his eyes unfocused, no doubt as he checked the QNet, or pretended to.
“How do you know Dover Richards?” he asked.
Ginny cursed herself. If this man really was from the police, the last thing she should be doing is giving him the names of criminals and murderers that might connect her to Gavin's death.
“Look, I have no idea who you are or why you're here. You gave me the fright of my life just now and, if you really are a policeman, I have a good mind to call your superiors and lodge a complaint.” She shut her mouth and looked away. Why was she behaving like such a complete arsehole? She needed to get a grip on herself.
Chu looked more puzzled than ever. Then he nodded to himself. “OK. Why don't we just start all over again from the beginning? I seem to have caught you at a bad moment.” Ginny didn't say anything, just watched him carefully as he began to act out the scene that might have been. “Ms Galton, I'm Detective Constable Mike Chu from the Missing Persons Division.” He flashed up his full credentials. “I wonder if I might ask you a few questions about Mr. Cal Copplin? I believe he is a friend of yours.”
Ginny decided to play dumb. “Detective Sergeant Dover Richards already came here and asked me about Cal. There isn't much I can add.”
“There's that name again.” He gestured towards a chair. “May I?” Ginny didn't want him to sit, or to stay, but she gave a quick nod and he sat down. “According to our records, Dover Richards is one of many aliases used by a person of great interest to us. It sounds like we should be adding 'impersonating a police officer' to the list of reasons we'd like to talk to him.”
“You mean he's not a real policeman? He said he was looking into Cal's disappearance.”
“And that's interesting too because the department was only notified this morning that Mr. Copplin had gone off the net.” A thought seemed to occur to him. “Did you think it was Richards out in the hall just now? Is that why you were so scared?”
Damn the man. He was quick and sharp and her own thoughts were all over the place. It was not a fair contest. Everything she said seemed to make things worse. She realised she had started believing Chu was really a policeman after all. “No. You just caught me at a bad moment. I'm prone to panic attacks. I have been for years.” Which was true – or it had been, once. It was five years since Ginny's last attack, but at least there would be medical records for Chu to check and confirm her story. “I've been under some pressure at work. I suppose I was just ready to snap when I heard you outside.”
Again, she had the impression he was checking everything she said, even as she said it. And he did look contrite when he said, “I'm very sorry. Is there something I can get you? Some kind of medication? Or should I call someone?”
“No, I'm fine. It goes as quickly as it comes.”
He stood up. “You really don't look very well. I should go and come back another time.”
She shook her head, feeling guilty that her lie had evoked such concern. “That's all right. Please, sit down. I'll make us a cup of coffee and you can ask me your questions.” And, of course, while there was a real policeman in her unit, she would be safe from Dover Richards. “How do you like it?”
She fussed over the coffee and added some biscuits, bringing a tray over from the kitchenette and placing it on the coffee table between them.
“You live here alone?” Chu asked.
“No-one's alone any more,” she said, quoting an ad for a popular brand of tank. He smiled and she added, “Never met the right guy. I get wrapped up in my work. I can be pretty antisocial I suppose. Yourself?” Now why did she ask that? What did she care about Chu's private life?
“I have that same problem. Workaholic. What can I say? I love my job.”
“You love tracking down missing persons?”
“You'd be surprised where a misper can lead you. I never know what each new day will bring.”
“Like finding a crazy woman screaming and – What did you say? Whimpering? – when you knock on her door?”
He smiled. “That kind of thing, yes.” Perhaps the turn of conversation had reminded him how curious he was because he said, “Do you mind if I ask those questions now?”
Ginny took a breath and said, “OK.”
He went through the same questions the fake cop had asked, only this time round there was less smarm and less creepiness. He said the same things about how Cal had gone offline and that it was not so uncommon.
“Richards said it might mean Cal is dead,” Ginny said.
“Sadly, it's the main reason people become untagged. When a person dies, their tag keeps responding but the ambient systems flag the person as immobile after a couple of days. You know, because they're not moving. Eventually, someone goes to check on them to see if they're OK.”
“Not you though.” It would be inconceivable that Detective Chu could love a job that involved going out to find dead people all the time.
“No, there are medical teams that do that. I get involved when the tag stops responding. That can mean the person's dead too – if the cause of death was a massive trauma to the head – but it can also mean they've managed to untag thems
elves, or they've gone outside the coverage of QNet.”
Ginny blinked in surprise. “Outside of QNet?”
“Australia's a big country. There's an area totalling half the size of Europe that is not fully covered. Plenty of legitimate reasons for going out there. It's the ones who go out without a license that I take an interest in.”
“Do you think Cal might have gone out into the bush somewhere?”
“Right now, I have no idea at all. However, if someone like Dover Richards is looking for him, it might be a smart move.”
The questioning moved on to Richards. What had he asked her? What else had he said? Did she have a way of contacting him? Eventually, Chu returned to Cal once more.
“My records show that Mr. Copplin is a freelance IT specialist. Did he ever talk about his work?”
“No. He said it was boring.”
“He's a Brit by birth, been in Australia for ten years, took citizenship nine years ago. Did he ever talk about what he did in the UK, or why he came here?”
Ginny cast her mind back, remembering moments, walks, parties. All she had were fragments. They had talked for hours but all she remembered were scenes and feelings, hardly any actual words. “He said something funny about that once. He said – something like – 'Australia is the last free country on Earth.' I thought he was just being romantic, about the outback and all that, the way people are, you know?”
“And he never talked about his work before coming here?”
Ginny shook her head. “I probably didn't even ask him. Why is that important?”
Chu shrugged. “Who knows what's important at this stage?”
But Ginny thought there was more to it than he was saying. “So what did he do before he came here?”
“I don't know. That part of his file is missing.”
As soon as Chu left, Ginny called the police and asked to speak to someone in Missing Persons. She told them she had had a visit from Mike Chu and could they confirm that he was a real policeman. They were happy to oblige, although the sergeant she spoke to was clearly curious about why she thought he might not be. As soon as she hung up, she realised it didn't prove anything except that there really was a Detective Constable Chu in the Queensland police.
Heaven is a Place on Earth Page 6