Heaven is a Place on Earth (11 page)

She hesitated a moment longer but, perhaps responding to the desperation he must have been showing, she grabbed the webbing and pulled herself onto the bed of the truck. He was up beside her in an instant. They were on the opposite side of the crates from the restaurant. “Keep low,” he said, unnecessarily. Ginny was already crouching out of sight. The truck began to pick up speed, whining up through its gears to reach its maximum twenty-five kilometres and hour. Rafe risked a quick look through the webbing at the back of the load and saw the man come rushing out of the restaurant, scanning the street left and right but not spotting his quarry.

“Oh my God,” Ginny said in a low, frightened voice. Rafe turned to find her ducking down again, having also taken a peek at the man from the restaurant.

“
What is it? Do you know him?” She nodded but didn't speak. “Well? Who is it?”

She swallowed and licked her lips, as if her mouth was dry. “It's Dover Richards,” she said.

-oOo-

They stayed with the truck for a long, long way, before climbing off at a junction and continuing on foot to a small, ramshackle park. A robot mower was just finishing when they arrived and they sat on a bench that had seen better days. The air was full of the smell of cut grass.

“So Richards followed you from Canberra to Brisbane?” she asked.

“
Yes. I met him in the airport lounge. He said he was a mining engineer. I've still got his card.”

“
Couldn't it have been a coincidence?”

“
What, that some guy picks up my trail in Canberra and is still on it two days later in Brisbane – at a real food restaurant of all the unlikely places – and he just happens to be the same guy that our terrorist friend said killed her brother?”

“
Yeah, all right. So no coincidence then.” She stared into the distance, pouting. “So what does he want? Why is he following you? How could he possibly know you're involved with September 10 and Tonia and all that?”

She was right. Dover Richards had been onto him before Rafe himself even knew what he'd become mixed up in. “He must have been monitoring Tonia's calls. It's the only possibility. But who is he? If he's not a cop and he's not with the September 10 crowd, it must mean there's another group out there, one we have no clue about.”

“Except we know they kill people, and follow people.”

Rafe wasn't even sure about the killing part. They only had Tonia's word for it. “Maybe they only kill terrorists.”

A small grin creased Ginny's cheek. “You're just trying to cheer me up.”

Surprised, he grinned back. “That's me, always thinking of others.”

He studied the woman beside him while she studied the shrubbery at the far end of the park. He liked her. More to the point, he trusted her. Just a pleasant, not unattractive woman, making her way in life, not completely alone, doing something not uninteresting, not uncreative. Not unlike himself. In another life, if they'd met in some other way, they might have become friends, lovers even.

The ludicrous idea of a jaded hack like him starting up a new relationship almost made him snort in derision. There was a time, fifteen, twenty years ago, when it was all he wanted. He'd found Zoe and they'd set up a virtual home together. She lived in South Africa and he was in Sydney at that time but they lived together in virtual space for nearly five years. She was endlessly fascinating, intelligent and witty. The cybersex was beautiful. She had been a one-woman intellectual fireworks display. And she had him dazzled. But while she had grown brighter with each passing year, Rafe had grown duller, more cynical, less able to shake off the mundane. He blamed it on the crushing tawdriness of his work. She said he had simply failed to rise above the limits of his imagination. When she left him, it felt like watching the angels leave the Earth.

“I can't go home tonight,” Ginny said, interrupting his maudlin mood. “He knows where I live.”

He snapped back to the park, the hot Brisbane sunshine, the smell of mown grass. “There's a hotel I've been using,” he said. “It's not bad.”

She shook her head. “I can't afford hotels. I just blew a bundle on going down to see my folks.”

Not really my problem
, he thought. “What about friends? There must be someone you could stay with.”

She pursed her lips. “Probably the only one I could ask, I don't want to get involved. Who'd thank you for maybe bringing an armed killer to their door?”

He nodded. He shouldn't go back to the same hotel either. Richards would know he'd been there. It would be the first place he'd check. But how many hotels were there in Brisbane? Two? Three? It wouldn't take long to find him wherever he went.

Again they drifted off into silence until Ginny said, “I've got it. I know where I can go tonight. You could stay there too if you're worried about going back to your hotel.”

“Where?”

“
Follow me. It's not far.” She jumped up and held out a hand. He took it and let her lead him.

The entrance to Cal Copplin's apartment building seemed unremarkable, latched or not. Rafe peered up and down the street before turning to the woman beside him. “Looks clear to me,” he said.

“
I sort of expected there'd be police tape across the door or something,” Ginny said. “Or one of those 'Crime scene. Do not enter.' signs.”

“
It's not actually a crime scene,” Rafe said. At least, he hoped it wasn't. Just the empty apartment of someone who'd gone missing. “And how are we going to get in?” he asked, again.

Ginny sighed. “I think the door will just open for me.”

They crossed the street and Ginny pushed a button only she could see. They had agreed beforehand that Rafe would remain on minimal aug while she latched to the building. After a moment, she said, “Ginny Galton,” and the door clicked open. So far, so good. They were inside the building at least.

Ginny led him to Copplin's apartment and to Rafe's surprise, the door unlocked itself as they approached. Ginny flashed him an excited smile and walked straight in. With a last look up and down the hallway, he followed her inside, closing the door behind him.

The apartment was cleaner and tidier than almost any he had ever seen, as if Copplin hadn't relied on the rough-and-ready services of the dombots but had actually done the cleaning himself. He'd heard about people who were like that, but he'd never met one. “You know, the police might be monitoring this unit in case Copplin returns.”

Ginny shook her head. “I don't think Cal would let that happen.”

“Pardon?”

“
There was something about the way the unit responded to me last time I was here. I got the impression Cal has these systems under his thumb. It's sort of how I knew the unit would let me back in.”

“
It must be nice to have faith.” He went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. It was full of food. “Thank Christ for that,” he said. The prospect of having nothing to eat until tomorrow had been nagging at him. He hadn't walked so much in years and he was already hungry. The fridge was stocked with enough food for them to stay several days if they needed to. He grabbed the kettle and took it to the sink. “Why don't you ask the unit where your friend is if it's so smart?”

“
I'm not sure I want to know.”

“
Coffee?” Ginny nodded and he set about hunting through the kitchen cupboards for mugs and ingredients. “Can you cook?” he asked, realising that Copplin had pans and utensils of the sort he'd only ever seen in VR.

“
I can microwave.”

“
Yeah, me too.”

“
I could ask the unit if there are any more messages from Cal.”

“
Can't hurt?”

“
You're joking, right?”

Rafe gave a sheepish grin. “Yeah, stupid thing to say. But you should try it, anyway.”

“Right.” Ginny went silent for a moment as she communed with the apartment. Her eyes widened. “Oh God, there's a message.”

He put down the spoon he was holding and went to join her. “Hold on. Let me latch so I can hear it.”

Ginny nodded and waited for him to give her the OK. “You know, it's bloody weird that this place looks the same with and without aug,” She nodded again, a quick, nervous bob of the chin, and popped up the message.

Cal Copplin's face appeared. He looked relaxed and untroubled by the mayhem his disappearance had sparked. He seemed to be sitting in the apartment, so Rafe guessed the recording had been made before he ducked out of his life.

“Hello again, Ginny,” the recorded voice of Cal Copplin said. “If you're watching this, it's because you came back to my unit. And the only reason I can think of for why you might do that is because you're in trouble and you've come back looking for answers. I'm sorry. There was always a chance the little errand you did for me would go wrong, but this is my attempt to help you sort things out.”

“
Pause it a sec,” Rafe said and Copplin's image froze in the act of drawing its next breath. “Is that your friend? Does he seem to be normal? Does he always talk in that pompous, convoluted way?”

Ginny gave him a frown. “Do you always put other people's friends down before you even get to know them? Yes, it sounds like Cal. Maybe he does sound a bit up himself. I always made allowances because he's a Brit.”

And a control freak too
, Rafe thought. The whole recorded messages from beyond the grave thing seemed just a bit over the top.
Still, it takes all kinds
... He nodded at the message display. “OK.”

Ginny scowled at him but he pretended not to notice. After a moment, she continued the playback.

“I hope you're all right,” Copplin said. “Gavin's a nice guy – that's why I sent you to him – but some of his associates can be a bit overwhelming. Maybe Gavin told you what this is all about. If so, I hope you'll have the sense to keep quiet about it. If not – trust me – it's better if you don't know anything – or anyone, especially if the police ask you. In this matter – as in so much else – the police are not necessarily going to act in your best interests.

“
Obviously, I have no idea what kind of trouble you're in. Maybe you're just nosy and looking for clues. Maybe you're on the run and your life is in danger. Whatever you need from my flat, just take it. I won't be coming back. If you pull the dishwasher out from under the counter, you'll find some useful items taped to the back of it. That's about all I can do for you, I'm afraid. Oh, I should say this, though: nothing is what it seems. If you have to trust anybody, the only person I know who won't lie to you is Gavin's sister, Tonia.” Rafe and Ginny exchanged glances. “She might shoot you, but she won't lie.

“
You might also want to consider leaving the country. Ask Tonia if you want to know which countries are safe, I've lost track myself. The thing is... Well, I'm doing what I can, but my success is not guaranteed. Things might easily fail to go as planned. Goodbye again, Ginny. Take care of yourself.”

“
That's it?” Ginny cried, addressing the sad-eyed image in the air before her. “A load of vague rubbish? How's that supposed to help me? You fucking bastard! You knew you'd dropped me right in it, didn't you?” She turned to Rafe. “That's why we just happened to meet by chance. That's why he came on all flattering and flirtatious. That's why – ” She stopped herself on the cusp of a sob. “He just used me. He just set me up and strung me along, just in case he needed a favour one day. That's all it was ever about.”

Rafe had to agree it seemed very likely. The guy in the recording might have said he was sorry but he certainly didn't look it. There was no remorse in Copplin's manner. He was just a control freak tidying up some loose ends, well aware he'd probably wrecked this woman's life and doling out his bullshit advice as a sop to his own conscience. It seemed incredible that Ginny hadn't spotted it sooner. Even so, he said, “I'm sure there was more to it than that.” It was all he could bring himself to say.

Ginny went to slump down into the sofa, probably to consider why her taste in men was so shockingly poor, while Rafe went to the kitchen and wrestled with the dishwasher until he had it clear of its housing. On the metal plate at the back of the machine were taped a small silver cylinder, a small black box, a folded wad of paper documents, a semi-automatic handgun, and two spare clips of ammo. “Christ,” he said, looking at the gun.

He heard Ginny's footsteps as she came up to see what he'd found. “I'm going back to Canberra,” he said. “On the next available flight.”

-oOo-

They hardly spoke that evening. Ginny watched news feeds and immersed herself in entertainment worldlets, but Rafe didn't want news and he was in no mood to be entertained. The sight of the gun had deeply unsettled him. Ginny had taken everything off the back of the dishwasher and laid it all out on the kitchen counter. Rafe didn't even feel tempted to look at the documents. He just wanted nothing to do with them. Now the gun was a constant presence in his mind. It seemed to be calling to him from the kitchen, saying, “What are you doing here, you fool? Get out now. Go to the police. This story will get you killed. Or worse.”

Unfortunately, he shared Cal Copplin's view of the police. Even under existing anti-terror laws, Rafe could be held for weeks without access to lawyers on the mere suspicion that he knew more than he was telling. And that's if they bothered to follow their own procedures. Worse than that, with a co-operative judge to keep extending his interrogation, he could be held indefinitely. Being a journalist wasn't likely to help him much, especially since he had been loudly critical of police corruption and police incompetence in the past.

Of course, it would all come right in the end. He really believed that. His story would be believed, his innocence would be obvious, and they'd let him go. But Rafe didn't think he could face an interrogation, however short, however gentle. He'd had enough interrogation to last him a lifetime. A single moment handcuffed to a table while someone threatened him and bullied him would be like a month in Hell. The very thought of it set his heart thudding and his stomach knotting. He'd go mad. He'd rather be dead.

He couldn't go to the police. Not with all these unanswered questions. Guilt by association was a police investigation technique he knew only too well.

And that left getting on the next flight to Canberra with his tail between his legs and telling Becky his lead was a dead end. Lying. Letting September 10 do whatever they were planning. Keeping his head down, saving his own skin at the expense of whoever else might get hurt. But it was the best he could do. Anyone who knew – really knew – what he'd gone through at Sam Hopwood's hands would understand. No-one would think he was a coward. He'd come back too soon. The scars were – literally – too fresh. He saw that now. He just needed to take it easy for a while. Ease back into it slowly.

And there was always Ginny. She could go to the cops. She could do the right thing. It wasn't all on his shoulders. He looked across at the woman lying on the sofa, completely unlatched, deep in some VR fantasy world, seemingly unconscious. That was because the strange Mr. Copplin didn't have a tank. Who in the world didn't have a tank? That, right there, was a sure-fire sign that the guy was a crazy terrorist. The government wouldn't need its new anti-terror legislation if they just rounded up and locked away all the creeps and misfits who didn't use a tank. How do you work, how do you have any kind of social life without a tank?

And yet Copplin had managed it. At least enough to seduce this poor naïve woman and drag her into his insane conspiracy. Rafe felt sorry for Ginny. How could he not? But not sorry enough to hang around and let her drag him into more trouble. Staying in Copplin's unit had seemed like a neat solution to his problems for a while there, but now there was that gun, yelling at him from the kitchen, and yet another wadge of incriminating documents that he daren't even look at in case they contained more names he shouldn't know, more facts he shouldn't be aware of.

Ginny's eyes popped open and she caught him staring at her. A small frown crossed her face and he fought the urge to explain himself, as if she'd openly accused him of leering at her while she was unlatched.

“
Got to have a pee,” she said, sitting up. “I'm hungry too. I can see why they invented tanks.” She got up and went to the bathroom. When she came out, she went to the kitchen and poked around in the fridge. “There's a few microwave meals in the freezer, do you want one?” He told her no. He was hungry still, but he couldn't face eating. Five minutes later she was back on the sofa, forking something that smelt like Thai food into her mouth. The smell made his stomach heave.

“
You still going back to Canberra?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Then what?” He must have looked as puzzled as he felt. “Then what?” she repeated. “You write your story and move on? Is that how this works?”

“
Not quite. I won't be writing the story.”

She nodded as if she understood. “And what about Richards?”

“What about him?”

“
He followed you here. Maybe he'll follow you home. He just has to hang around at the airport when the Canberra flights leave, or, better still, wait at Canberra airport for you to fly in.”

Rafe didn't like this. “Why should he? He was only tailing me so he could get to Tonia?” At least, that's what he'd assumed.

“So why was he still following you after you went to Tonia's place yesterday?”

“
Did you think of this while you were playing ScareWorld III?” It was a stupid dig, but he was irritated, not least, he now realised, because Ginny was clearly more calm than he was.

“
I was at a J. C. Bach concert, actually. Listening to classical music helps me relax.”

Rafe clenched his teeth.
Why did he follow me?
“Maybe he found Tonia. Maybe I did lead him to her. Maybe he killed her or spooked her and that's why she wasn't around this morning. Maybe he wanted to know if I had any other September 10 contacts in town.”

“
Maybe. Or maybe he thinks you're one of them. Maybe he's from a rival gang, or Tonia's lot managed to upset the September 10 hierarchy somehow.”