Mitch could see his team waiting for him. He grabbed the paperwork from John and limped towards them.
“All quiet on the Western Front?” J.J. asked as he neared.
“Too quiet. Budgets,” Mitch answered.
“Aah! I thought you looked glum. We got any money left?”
“Not if those Cobra helicopter repairs come out of my budget.”
“Geez, wasn’t that last financial year? You told them it was an accident?” J.J. asked.
“Yeah, tried that one. OK, Ellie …”
“I’m continuing with checks on inter-country grants and on Johan,” Ellen cut in.
“Plus, I’ve started background checks on Maria and Nick,” Samantha concluded.
“Good. J.J., let’s see what the science department turned up from our lab raid.” Mitch said. “John’s meeting us there.”
“Right, walk this way,” J.J. walked beside Mitch with his own limp imitation.
“So, give me the heads-up, Henri, are we going to be happy with the lab findings?” John lowered himself onto a stool opposite Professor Henri Spalter in the science division.
“Depends, John, on whether you were hoping to find something incriminating or hoping not to. Ah, here’s the boys now, excuse me a moment.” Henri rose and walked through the department to let Mitch and J.J. in through the security door. He frowned noticing Mitch’s limp.
“Mitch. What have you done to yourself?”
“Playing Superman again … you know, leaping from tall buildings in a single bound.”
“No cape?”
“Ah, that’s what went wrong,” Mitch grinned.
Henri chuckled and nodded a greeting to J.J. He led them past two young lab technicians arguing over a lab sample.
“Come, I’ve got something interesting to show you.” They entered another lab where John was looking through a microscope. He moved away and Henri projected the microscope slide onto the wall.
“Your results from last night’s raid are interesting. Here’s a projection of what we found in the test tubes.” He watched Mitch squint at the image of clear, small bubbles.
Mitch looked from Henri to John. “Nothing? You mean to say we’ve collected air and water?”
“Apparently so. The second sample,” Henri called up another slide, “appears to be membrane-based. And this next one is water.”
“What the hell is going on?” Mitch stared at the slides.
“My thoughts exactly. There is a ground swell of scientists pushing the government for tighter constraints on labs and to monitor work in progress,” Henri said. “There are experiments going on under our noses that could be real threats to our society; this isn’t one of them.”
He put up another set of images.
“This is what was in your petri dishes. This batch has nanometer-sized gold particles in it, surrounded by a negative charge layer.”
“Which means?” Mitch asked.
“It means it could be a test for any number of samples.” Henri looked at the blank faces around him. “You’ve picked up a sample which forms the basis of a test because of its stability. Think of it as having a cup of hot water. You could add tea, coffee or chocolate and each will give you a pure representation of what you have added. Whereas, if you had a cup of cola and added tea, coffee or chocolate, the taste would be compromised by the flavor of the cola.”
“So, give us an example of what they could use this exact type of testing for?” J.J. asked.
“They could be doing agricultural testing for plant and crop disease, or clinical testing for tumors or allergies; even biological testing for contamination. It means nothing really.”
“So basically, what we’ve collected tells us they’re doing what we’re going to be doing; using a few fake props to look like lab work is going on?” J.J. asked.
“In essence, yes. The specimens in the tubes and the petri dish are as good as tap water. Sorry to disappoint you, boys.”
“So, if the lab’s a smokescreen, what would these three people be doing together and why meet at the university?” Mitch asked.
Friday night, Saturday night and now Sunday night. I need to get a life, Mitch thought as he glanced at his watch; eight p.m.
Two hours down and no sign of Johan, Nick or Maria in the lab.
He spread out the photographed material taken from Johan’s brief case and revisited the material and the notes he’d made earlier. Shuffling through the papers, he found the list of investors’ names. Mitch glanced through them; most were from South Africa and South America and the minimum amount donated was twenty thousand dollars. One investor had contributed a quarter of a million dollars to take the largest number of project shares. Mitch did the calculations: Johan was playing with a total of $845,000 worth of investors’ money and must have pulled strings to get these on board. But what were they promising in return?
He read through the entire file, yawned and looked at the clock again; another hour had passed.
Where the hell are they? The job can’t be too urgent … unless the lab was hired to provide a fixed address, or to keep investors believing a project they were funding was underway.
He returned to the paperwork and found profiles on the three leaders, a couple of scientists, two security guards and a pilot.
Another pilot, he thought. Why do they need an additional pilot when they have Nicholas Everett? Mitch’s eyes lit up at a page containing details of a science project.
This is it! A developmental drug for the prevention of Alzheimer’s. Mitch let out a low whistle. Given the aging population, if this drug works, the investors could make billions. He stood up and paced around the room, stopping to pick up the profiles on the scientists again.
He thought it through: do these scientists exist or do the investors just think they do? Is anyone actually developing this drug or are the investors getting false reports? Mitch glanced at his watch again and began to pack up. I’m not going to find out tonight … nine-thirty and no one’s shown.
He stopped suddenly, hearing a noise in the main lab and grabbed the headset to listen in through the microphone in the ceiling. He recognized Nick’s voice; he was talking on his cell phone. Mitch listened to the dialogue.
“I’m sorry I missed this afternoon’s meeting, it was unavoidable,” Nick was saying.
Shit! I’m not here for two hours and I miss their meeting.
Nick continued. “I’m not taking this project lightly … Johan! … fine, I’ll be there.”
Mitch could hear the frustration in Nick’s voice as he hung up. He waited, hearing the sounds of paper shuffling, then the door opening and closing again. He waited a few minutes, put his head out the door and saw the main lab was in darkness. Mitch rushed out and made his way to the car park, ducking behind a light tower as car lights came towards him. He strained to get a glimpse of the driver.
Definitely Nicholas Everett! He must have gone in to collect something, but what? Did he see me?
He returned to the lab.
Will Johan and Maria make a guest appearance tonight as well?
Mitch closed the front door behind him, wincing as it creaked. He shed his gear—shoes, jacket, backpack—throwing them in his room, then headed to the kitchen.
“Mitch?”
“Just me, Charlie,” he answered in a whisper.
“It’s after two … have you been at work all that time?”
“Yes, go back to sleep.”
He entered the kitchen, feeling his way without turning on the light. Mitch heard a sound and spun around. A figure emerged from the dark. He grabbed the intruder and slammed him against the wall. In a single move, he pinned him by the throat.
“Mitch, it’s me,” the voice choked.
“For chrissake,” Mitch pushed Lachlan away. He could feel his heart pounding.
Lachlan Monterey put his hand to his throat and coughed dryly.
“Didn’t you know I was staying?”
“Obviously not,” Mitch said, hands on his hips.
Charlotte appeared in the doorway.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Lachlan rubbed his throat.
Cool down, Mitch told himself. “Sorry, are you OK?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t know you were having a sleep over,” Mitch looked at Charlotte.
“Forget it. Been out?” Lachlan asked.
“Working.”
“After-hours shift, huh?”
“Yeah, night watch.” Mitch reached around Lachlan to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He passed by them, running his eyes over Charlotte as she stood in the doorway in a pale blue slip.
“Mitch?” she called.
“See you in the morning,” he snapped. Why am I pissed off? Because she’s back with him? Because she’s a sucker for punishment? Or because he’s in there with her!
He dropped on to his bed and set the alarm to be up in four hours. He lay back.
“Got to get you out of my head, Charlie and focus,” he muttered. “What is the Aurum project? Did they choose that name because an Alzheimer’s drug would be a gold mine?”
Charlotte heard Mitch’s car backing out of the garage. She looked at the bedside clock and rolled back over.
“Time?” Lachlan mumbled.
“Just after six.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she sidled up to him.
Nothing that talking to Mitch won’t fix, she thought. All weekend he’s come home after midnight and bolted by six a.m. Which means he’s either flat-out busy or busy avoiding me.
Mitch drove his car into his allocated car park and headed into the building. He stopped in his office, called and confirmed someone was in the Information Resource Division, and then detoured to the canteen before taking the stairs to the second floor.
“Morning, Marco,” he ran an eye over the six-foot Caribbean from the I.T. Division. “Nice shirt.”
“Mitch, my man, this shirt’s from my Hawaiian collection.”
“There’s more?”
“Indeed. Ah, you’ve come bearing gifts.” Marco took the offered coffee and toast. “That’ll warm my fingers up for the keyboard. So, what have we got? I thought you were in the lab last night. How come you need the recorded material?”
“I was there all weekend except for a few hours Sunday afternoon.”
“And that’s when your subjects arrived?”
“There was a meeting, I believe. I’m dying to know what they said.”
“Why didn’t you call me in last night?”
“Budget. I’d have to justify it to John.”
“Gotcha. How did you pick it up?”
“A microphone in the ceiling.”
“OK,” Marco sat at the computer. “Can you identify who’s speaking?”
“Should do. One male with a South African accent, and one female. Not sure if anyone else was there.”
Marco put the tape in the deck and turned to the computer, typing in the date and time as the tape began to roll. “Here we go.”
Mitch finished his serve of toast and coffee before he heard a cough on the tape.
“Exciting so far,” Marco said.
Mitch laughed. Finally, he heard a South African voice and followed Marco’s prompts as the screen identified the voice as Male one.
Male one: “It’s confirmed for six-thirty on Wednesday, here.”
Mitch heard the female voice.
Female one: “OK. That gives us a few more nights to get it right.”
Male one: “Nick and I, yes. You will stick to your plan and leave for the site on Tuesday afternoon; we need someone there. We’ll depart as soon as we can after the meeting. I want to be gone before the investors’ tour.”
Female one: “Got it. Will that be the final meeting with Daniel?”
Mitch stood and began to pace. Daniel … must be the British guy Ellen heard about.
Male one: “Yes. And remember, neither of you know about him or M.M. Only about the job. I’m trusting you with that information.”
Mitch frowned. What the hell is M.M? The voice continued.
Female one: “We won’t be saying anything to anyone.”
“What are they talking about?” Marco asked.
“Damned if I know,” Mitch shook his head.
Male one: “I’m worried about Nick.”
Female one: “Why?”
Male one: “For starters, his roster’s not locked in. Aren’t you concerned?”
Female one: “Truthfully? Of course. I have my doubts about the project, but not about Nick or the location.”
Male one: “You think this Eureka County is the best location?”
Female one: “If this site is as good as Nick says it is, it’ll be fine. The nearby township is not so small that we’ll stick out. It’s normal for sites to be leased, so it shouldn’t raise any suspicion – and it’s close to the route. I think he did a good job securing it.”
Male one: “After this is all over, you and I can find our own route for a while.”
Female one: “Hmm, I’m counting on it.”
Mitch and Marco exchanged looks.
“Smooth line, buddy,” Marco raised his coffee cup in salute.
Male one: “I’ve gone through it a hundred times in my head. The real issues for me are in the cleanness of the swap and getting it across the border. The rest should go like clockwork.”
Female one: “I’m worried about the investors. What if they try to find us?”
Male one: “Unlikely. Most of them won’t want to reveal their company funds were allocated to a long shot like a cure for Alzheimer’s. I want to win this. Imagine what we could do with that money! We’ll be set for the rest of our lives.”
Female one: “I know how important it is to you.”
Male one: “Do you really trust Nicholas?”
Female one: “Implicitly. He’s family.”
Male one: “You mean he was almost family. Now, I’m your family!”
Mitch and Marco heard a click on the tape.
“Was that the sound of the door?” Mitch asked.
“The conversation has stopped, I’m guessing they’ve left the room,” Marco said.
“Is that all?”
“Looks like it, Mitch,” Marco spooled forward on the tape. “Does it help you at all?”
“Raises more questions than it answers,” Mitch rubbed his hand over his chin. “But, Nicholas Everett’s going to help me whether he likes it or not.”