Poor Marianna. Jimmy had really gone to town. He’d showered her with dates during that first couple of weeks. The sad little book chronicled the beginning of the affair. There were times, names, lover’s trysts. Other dates I remembered. Threesomes. To the theatre, openings, parties. Marianna, Jimmy and me. My scalp tightened as I read about those. I hadn’t noticed Marianna's eyes sparkling or that it was hard for her to keep her hands off him. Maybe I had thought, vaguely, that she was happy, but never asked why. It was only now that I could see that the signs were there. If I’d bothered to look.
Win broke into my spiralling guilt trip, waving a folder of papers under my nose. `These must be part of the computer design. I can't understand a word of it.’
I flicked quickly through the papers. They were photocopies of David's design data. I didn’t understand them either when I first saw them. The concepts were completely different from anything I’d seen before. I have a doctorate in electronic engineering and knew most of what was going on in computer science, but this was totally different. David sat down with me for days before I understood even part of what he’d done. He'd designed both hardware and software that would change the face of the science.
I was in awe. He had done for computers what Einstein had done for physics.
After our father had kicked him out, he’d roamed the world, working where and when he felt like it. As a miner in Bolivia, as a gaucho in Argentina, a brothel bouncer in Bangkok, and a bagman for Burmese rebels. He’d driven trucks through the Andes, running guns and men between Bolivia, Colombia, and Peru. He’d spent time in Africa too, but he’d never talk about that.
One of his travelling companions in Africa was an American computer whiz. Another deserter from his society. An older man who spotted the extraordinary talent in the boy. Gene Hoesterbeck was his name and luckily for David he was an all-round man. He set about educating David with a vengeance. He took him to the theatre, the opera, to art galleries and libraries, from Athens to Albuquerque. He presented the great philosophers, scientists and poets to him. From the ancient mathematicians of Egypt, Sumaria and Greece, from Homer and the Greek philosophers through to Galileo, Shakespeare, Voltaire and Newton. Under Gene’s tutelage David explored his intellect.
To know the past and understand it well enough to change the future for the better, not just for the sake of it or because he could.
David told me that he felt as if his mind was eating into the world of ideas like a shark ripping into a whale. How he’d spent forty-eight hours at a time reading Plato or Voltaire. His eyes would light up at the memory and I would be, as I had been as a small boy, enthralled by his excitement and his brilliance. At those times I almost felt as if I could be like him. But I always knew that I had no hope at all of that. I could only serve him. So I did.
I turned back to the sheaf of papers. They were all there…except—?
`Is this all there is?’
She checked. `Seems to be.’ She leafed through the diary. `Nothing here. Why?’
`Something’s missing.’ All the basic data of David's work was there except for a small section, without which the rest was useless.
David had taken the key out of the work. With ground-breaking technology like this even experts would take a long time to realise something was missing. I knew, but I’d been taught by the designer. My boss Norm's `limited’ student, Cameron MacAllister would never work it out.
Was that why David had been kept drugged? For security, for later, just in case.
I leaned back, staring at the window then turned to Win. Ideas tumbled around my brain. She tilted her head in her birdlike way.
`Do you know anything about wasps?’ I asked.
Her head tilted even more. `Not really, why?’
`There’s a wasp, I don't know the name of it, but the female wasp builds a nest. She then stings and paralyses, but doesn’t kill, a juicy bug, puts it in her nest and lays her eggs on top of it. When they hatch, the wasp babies have a nice fresh food supply. They eat the caterpillar alive.’
`Yes I have heard of that. Why do you ask?’
`I wonder if...is it possible that...Greenacres...and that place near Sydney are wasp’s nests?’
If Win’s head tilted any more it would fall off.
I took a deep breath and explained. `This is David’s work, right?’ She nodded. `Part of it, a small part, is missing.’
`Are you sure? Sorry, of course you’re sure.’
`Yes, and David must have kept it out on purpose. I don't know where it is. David always put the work away. It’s crucial, the key. I saw it quickly but only because I know the work. I'll bet a dollar to a million that nobody but David or me would notice that anything was missing.’
She stared at me. `So if they’ve lost David they could have come for you.’
`But when they started trying to kill me they still had David.’
I spoke slowly developing my ideas as I went along.
`What if they do this all the time and they’re used to people leaving crucial bits out of their work-notes on purpose? What if they often need more information, or want the inventor to work on the project, for them, not himself? So they keep the `fat bug’ on ice? What better place than a hospital? The poor devil breaks down. Then there are doctors, psychiatrists, who keep him so drugged he can’t function. Until he’s needed. Then he’s shipped off, used, and...’ I choked. `He either works for them in some way, or...he’s disposed of.’
We sat looking at each other for a long time.
Win spoke first. `Molly Grant's `lost boys’? It might explain why Doctor Ingham was so angry.’
`It would also explain why there are squadrons of armed guards with bloody great dogs.’
`And why David disappeared. You were getting too close. You wanted to move him and he would very quickly have got better and talked.’
`They started trying to kill us before that though.’
Did it begin when Suzy dug out Cameron MacAllister Then it hit me.
`I think MacAllister is the trigger for the entire thing.’
`The sleaze?’
I laughed. Trust Suzy. `Yes. My boss Norm knew MacAllister as a student. He said he couldn't understand how anyone as `limited’, his word, as MacAllister was doing so well in hi-tech development. It would never occur to Norm that someone might steal another person’s work. They must have known I’d recognise David’s work sooner or later. So I had to go.’
That had to be it. The near miss with the car and falling debris was a coincidence after all. Sort of. Suzy finding MacAllister’s company, and that the magazine published David’s work at the same time dovetailed neatly. Us wanting to move David just made everything more urgent. Now, if they’d lost David, the threat to us just increased exponentially. Only one thing might keep us alive. If they thought we could lead them to him.
`Christ Win. What have we stirred up here? How big is this thing?’
`Big enough to justify murder,’ Win said. She held up the diary. `I wonder if this was what Marianna and Vanni died for? As you said they already had the work files so...? There are a whole lot of names here. Take a look.’ She handed me the diary.
`MacAllister’s in there.’ She reached for the phone. `And Jenny Hannan. I think I’ll ring Theo and see how far he's got.’
She rang while I concentrated on Marianna's diary. The undated pages at the back had a long list of names; some with only phone numbers; some with only addresses; some with scribbled remarks alongside; some scratched out altogether.
I only knew a few of them, Strangely MacAllister’s and Anthea’s were listed together, with a ring around them. Why? Jenny Hannan and Molly Grant were in another column, along with the other nurses, Nyman and Webb. Perhaps they were all nurses in that column. Webb and two others were crossed out. Dead was written next to those. On the facing page was a doodle. The word JANUS was printed in large letters. Around the word were drawing of skulls and crossbones. Arrows were drawn from that page to sundry names on the other.
Over the page she'd written Greenacres→ Bluehaven - Bluehaven→Greenacres. She’d then drawn a circle around the words and a string, like a puppet string, then the word JANUS at the top of it. Who or what was JANUS? Who were all these people?
MacAllister’s name appearing along with both Greenacres and Bluehaven was a valuable link. We knew Molly Grant knew about Jimmy. She’d visited him but not with a Get-Well card and flowers.
Anthea’s link was to Jimmy and Marianna. But her inclusion was probably a coincidence. Or was it? What was that strange visit to me after Marianna died? We hadn’t seen her since Marianna ran off with Jimmy. And her weird slips. I could have sworn she knew that Marianna was dead, when only the murderer and I could have. She also talked about Jimmy being beaten almost to death in prison. How did she know that?
The tickle at the edge of my mind, the registering that something was wrong was very strong. I leaned back, willing myself to relax, to let my mind take over. What had I missed? Anthea? Something about Anthea? Molly Grant’s image floated into my mind. I forced my thoughts back to Anthea. And got Molly Grant again. Shit. I opened my eyes. Win was staring at me, her hand over the phone.
`What is it? You're as white as a sheet.’
She started to speak, but her voice came out as a croak. `It's Theo.’ I looked blank. `Policeman Theo.’
The bile rose in my throat. Please, not another one. Please...
She cleared her throat and shook her head. `It's Marianna. They've found her. The police want to question you.’