Going Grey (40 page)
Shaun pressed the intercom and held down the key. "Cream, no sugar, yes?"
"It's touching that you remember." Kinnery took out his cell and made a show of switching it off. But there was a hair's breadth between disabling the phone and starting a recording for his own insurance. "Any cookies? Chocolate chip?"
Kinnery had thought he'd feel at least awkward about lying on this scale, but now that he was here, he actually felt no shame at all. His brain had done a wondrous thing. The awareness of what he'd created had been sealed behind a bulkhead, quite separate from the game he was playing with KWA, in which he now felt he was the wronged party. What he
knew
and what he
felt
had split off into two equal realities.
It intrigued him, because if he understood it, then he could recreate it whenever he needed to. He'd repeated the lie in his mind so often that his brain had started to airbrush his actual memory. His outright lies had evolved into excuses and finally into valid reasons.
One part of him now believed himself. He'd been minding his own business, nobly serving a virtual life sentence in academia for his hubris, sacrificing a life of wealth to recompense Ian, and his wicked ex-partner had begun spying on him, seeking commercial gain when what mattered was doing the best for the boy. The other part of him, the objective mind, stopped at the top of this deluded hill to look back down the valley at the frightening path he'd taken. Kinnery knew that when the entirety of him believed his cover story, and not just the emotional side that needed to cling to it, he'd be truly dangerous.
"Do you want to clear the air first?" he asked. Someone who'd been wrongly accused would be indignant and want some kind of apology before he was prepared to talk terms. There was a lot to be said for throwing the first punch. "Anything you want to tell me or ask me?"
Shaun didn't blink. He was still standing by the window, seeming lost now that his sofa throne had been taken. He slid into the chair at his desk and settled behind it as if it was a wall of sandbags.
"Come on, Charles, I needed to know if there was even a grain of truth in the story," Shaun said. "I know I've pissed you off, but we're at a delicate stage with Halbauer. It was the last thing I needed. I didn't even know if it was sabotage."
"So I build a functioning shape-shifter, tell nobody for God knows how many years, then suddenly decide to leak it to the lunatic fringe media instead of publishing a paper from the safety of some country that wouldn't extradite me. Does that cover the keynotes?"
Shaun set his elbows on the desk, hands clasped. "Well, that's the full-tar version. Seeing as we're being frank, the thought that struck me was a little less ambitious but equally interesting."
"Do tell."
"That you refined what was needed and made a little progress elsewhere."
"How? Took it down to my dank basement and got out my Big Boy's Chemistry Set and Tesla coil? Please. You're not a layman. I'd have needed the backing of a fairly conspicuous laboratory."
"I would have understood if you'd used a viral vector on yourself."
"Well, I didn't. I'll give you a good portion of buccal cells and hair before I leave so you can check out my DNA to your heart's content."
"Maybe it was a volunteer, though."
Kinnery wasn't sure if Shaun was just fishing or working up to something else. "I'm flattered you think anyone would trust me enough to risk their health for that kind of favour."
"You can see how I could put two and two together and come up with ten. You don't just fall off the edge of the world for no reason."
"I had a lot of personal issues. I needed a gentler pace of life. And Vancouver isn't exactly a wasteland."
"Charles, even if you'd ripped off the research or broken every FDA regulation in the book, I'd still beg you to come back and work with me. Not despite that.
Because
of it. I want to wheel you out to Halbauer and say that you're so keen on the possibilities that you've given up your cosy tenure and lovely Vancouver to work with KWA again."
It was, as someone once said, a trap, and not a very good one. Kinnery knew he was good at his job, but Shaun was trying to keep his enemies close. So it was pure poker, all bluff and counter bluff, neither of them knowing what hand the other held. Kinnery found it thrilling for a moment before it slipped back to a desperate need to call off the dogs once and for all.
"You know how old I am, Shaun."
"Only slightly older than me."
"I want you to be realistic about the useful years you'll get out of me."
"Come on, you're not a bricklayer. We both know people in their eighties who still contribute to the field. Wasted genius is going to feel pretty painful on your deathbed."
Shaun was a lot more adept at twisting the knife than Kinnery remembered, but then he'd had years to polish his technique. Kinnery hoped his cell was picking up all this. Leo would enjoy the finer points. Maybe it wasn't such an inept trap after all.
But that was irrelevant. Kinnery had his orders. "Okay," he said. "Let's talk."
"Do you mind if I bring in my HR adviser?"
"Go ahead." Kinnery reached into his briefcase and took out his notepad.
I'm going to take the offer, so I might as well treat the numbers seriously.
"I'll have to run it past my attorney, obviously."
Shaun went to the door and gestured to his secretary rather than using the intercom. The coffee finally appeared, minus cookies. Kinnery was stirring the cream and making idle chat with Shaun about property prices in Vancouver when the door opened again and a woman walked in: fortyish, business suit and name badge, one of many who wouldn't stand out in a crowd.
"Charles, this is Dru Lloyd from HR," Shaun said.
Kinnery could just about read her badge from where he was sitting.
Dru.
How many Drews or Drus were there generally, let alone working for KWA? Suddenly she wasn't forgettable at all. If this was the woman who'd shown up at the ranch, she knew she'd given at least part of a real name to Maggie's neighbour, and she'd be expecting Kinnery to hear about that pretty damn fast if he and Maggie were connected. She'd be looking for a reaction. He wasn't sure if he'd given her one.
You bastard, Shaun. You brought her in here to shake me down.
Well, my phone's still recording. I'll pick this over later. And you still won't find Ian.
"Nice to meet you, Dru," Kinnery said. "How's my KWA pension fund doing?"
She gave him a look he couldn't fathom, but it didn't matter. This had to be the same woman. Maybe Rob Rennie could identify the voice and confirm what Kinnery was already sure he knew.
"I think it's doing very well, Dr Kinnery," Dru said. "I'll just take notes to make sure Mr Weaver's giving you accurate information about benefits packages."
They talked about time commitments and retainers and shares, but Kinnery wasn't concentrating. He was waiting for the sting. Dru – and probably Shaun – must have known that he realised his phone records had been accessed. They were probably still guessing about Maggie, but the phone was a known quantity, and the poker game was back on. If he said nothing, then they knew he was playing too.
Leo had told him to keep his powder dry. Kinnery knew better this time. He waited until they'd wrapped up the details – in principle, subject to legal advice, and all the usual bullshit caveats – then turned to Dru. Now he'd to push his luck and embroider a story he hadn't planned.
Keep it simple, though. Stuff that I can remember.
"This is going to sound a tad churlish," Kinnery said, "but seeing as you haven't mentioned it, I feel I must."
Shaun was watching intently. Dru cocked her head. "Yes?"
"When a close protection officer gets a so-called wrong number on a dedicated line that only I call, he worries about that and tells me," Kinnery said. Actually, that was exactly what had happened, minus a few key facts such as Rob being someone else's bodyguard at the time. The truth was a wonderfully flexible thing. "I can't discuss my personal security arrangements, but I've got good reason to think one of your employees acquired my phone records improperly and rang the number."
Dru didn't even blink. She frowned the frown of the disinterested pretending to be shocked and concerned. "That's a pretty serious accusation."
"Well, I'll be very pissed off if it was KWA, but at least I'll know it's not pro-life or animal rights activists coming after me for my sins. I've spent too many years checking under my car."
Jesus, what am I doing? No, I'll be fine. I've taken far bigger risks.
Shaun sat tapping his forefinger against his lips. "You actually employ a bodyguard."
Don't overplay it. Stay vague. Tell a dilute version of the truth, even.
"I have security consultants, yes. I'll be surprised if you don't."
"Okay." Shaun looked put out. It was impossible to tell if he didn't know about the hacking. "I can only apologize if that was us."
"Shaun, find out and let me know. If it was your people, just man up and admit it, and I won't take legal action. I just need to know that I'm not going to start the car one day and say goodbye to my legs."
Kinnery's mouth was dry despite the coffee. It was an awful, awkward moment, just as it would have been if that had been the truth.
Maybe I've called their bluff. And maybe I haven't.
He gave Dru a withering look, fed by real resentment, because being too forgiving right then wouldn't have been convincing.
"I'll deal with it and get back to you," Shaun said. "Are you staying for dinner tonight?"
"I'd love to," Kinnery said. "But I've got to get home in time to see the powers that be at the university and extract myself from my contract."
He stood up to leave and shook Dru's hand. Eye contact with her didn't tell him much. She had to know that her card had been marked.
The floor layout had changed little since his day, but he headed back to the elevator lobby on an autopilot setting he'd long forgotten. On balance, he felt he'd won. Shaun looked marginally less cocky than he had when Kinnery had first walked in.
"If it was us, it won't happen again, Charles," Shaun said, leaning on the bronze panel next to the elevator. "I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
The elevator doors parted. "Thanks. Let me know if Halbauer want to talk to me."
A cab was waiting outside when he reached the reception. He gazed out of the window as the taxi headed back to his hotel, trying to remember what had changed around town, and then he remembered his phone was still recording. He switched the mike off.
Did Shaun believe me? Does it matter? They still won't find Ian.
And Leo was right. They're looking for a mule.
Kinnery decided to eat at the airport and explore Lansing some other time. He was sitting at the gate waiting for his flight to board when his phone bleeped with an incoming text. It was his official phone; not Leo, then. He looked down at the screen and unlocked it. The message was from Shaun.
CHARLES, DON'T WORRY ABOUT PROTESTERS. IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN. SORRY.
Kinnery almost allowed himself a smile. He still didn't know if Shaun believed the bodyguard story, but he did know one thing. KWA would think twice before spying on him again.
I did what I thought best. I don't know if they believe me or not, but now I've confronted KWA on hacking my phone records, I think that's pretty well put Shaun in a place where he can't move. And I don't have to wait for the other shoe to fall.
Charles Kinnery, in conversation with Leo Brayne, explaining his reasons
for not sticking with the plan.
KWA, LANSING, MICHIGAN
AUGUST.
When Dru unlocked her office, the first thing that struck her was a heady, clove-like fragrance, the second was
realising someone had been in the room overnight, and the third was the lavish bouquet of Asian lilies in a vase on her desk.
Now she knew she didn't have a life. The thought of an intrusion had kicked the surprise gift into third place. Anyone else would have wondered who their admirer was.
Only the security desk would have had access overnight, not even the cleaners. There was no message on the desk. Maybe it was still tucked into the arrangement of pink and white lilies. As Dru moved the stems to check, she remembered the messy orange pollen a moment too late and snatched her hand away to check her blouse for stains. But a closer inspection showed that someone had clipped out the stamens. Now
that
was attention to detail. She respected that.
The flowers had to be a mistake, though. It wasn't her birthday, and nothing happening at work warranted a bouquet.
Larry? No, he'd only send me flowers if he'd been arrested and needed me to post bail. And if he needed that, he'd probably phone in the middle of the night.
She called the security desk to put herself out of her misery. It wasn't Alex today. A younger male voice answered.
"Did you let someone into my office overnight?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," the guard said. "Mr Weaver had something he wanted to leave personally."
"Oh." Somehow that wasn't reassuring. "Okay. Thank you."
Dru stood studying the flowers, trying to work out why Weaver would want to pacify her. Perhaps Kinnery was going to make a complaint about the phone records after all, and Weaver needed her to cover for him.
But I'm the only one in the frame on that, aren't I?
How did cross-border cases like that work? She moved the vase to a filing cabinet and wiped her desk with a tissue.
So Weaver got what he wanted. I just damn well hope I do.
Well, she was burned now. Kinnery had seen her and heard her voice. She could be identified. That ruled out any more personal investigations. The worst of it was that Kinnery's explanation made perfect sense, but then so did the theory of the mule.
And he didn't mention the visit to the ranch. Just the phone. So there might be no connection to Maggie Dunlop at all. On the other hand ... if there was, he wouldn't want to fill in the gaps for me, would he?
Every scenario could make sense if she stared at it long enough. This was getting her nowhere.
Dru took another look at the hotline phone log. The incoming call – July, nothing since January – had clustered just before the date of
The Slide
's article. How did that fit Kinnery's claim? If Zoe Murray had called him for a comment before publication, then he might have warned his security people, but Dru would have expected to see outgoing calls rather than inbound ones lasting a few seconds.
Got it. Kinnery calls from another number, and this is someone trying to get back to him. Leaving messages, maybe.
But if the calls were from Maggie Dunlop, they might have been warning him about something. Both explanations still made some kind of sense. The unanswered question was why
now
after so many years. Maybe Kinnery had skipped a payment, and because this was an ongoing silence that needed to be enforced, the mule decided to put pressure on him.
Dru realised it didn't feel like work any longer, something that she could forget for a weekend. It had become the single thought she drifted back to when she wasn't worrying about Clare or paying bills.
She logged on to the network to catch up with the web digests. The fringe sites seemed to have lost interest in the DoD shape-shifter and had veered off into debates about government agents who could live right next door to you, even in your own home, and you'd never know they weren't your Uncle Bob, nice Mrs Jones, or the mailman until a big black car with tinted windows turned up and you were bundled inside to disappear forever. Dru despaired. The same psychology underpinned myths throughout human history. A few thousand years ago, it was Zeus who showed up in disguise. Now it was aliens. Seeing that history repeating itself in the twenty-first century exhausted her.
Anyway, wasn't that
Invasion of the Body Snatchers?
Or was that
The Thing?
I forget.
There was even a radio phone-in podcast in the media digest. "
And we have Jason from Sacramento on the line ... so, Jason, you say your neighbour's been disguising his true form for twenty years, and he's in fact an alien observer ...
" The radio host delivered it all with the calm, unsurprised, non-judgemental tone of a news anchor. So did Jason. What made it so disturbing was how sane and rational they sounded.
A knock on the door interrupted the playback. She paused it as Weaver walked in and glanced at the lilies.
"That's for handling the problem," he said, not specifying which part of the Kinnery situation he meant. "You're not buying his story, are you?"
Dru shrugged. "I've still got a lot of unanswered questions."
"Me too."
"But you got him to do whatever you were angling for."
"Exactly. Doesn't that worry you?"
"I don't know him well enough to judge. You've offered him a lot of money for very little effort. Most people would sell their grandmothers for that."
"Ah, not Charles. The Charles I know would have beaten me over the head with moral indignation and lawyered up by now. Coming here at all is out of character. He likes to summon people to his throne. I can't believe that the worship of students in his own little kingdom has mellowed him any."
"He wants this allegation to go away as well. He doesn't want to be a laughing stock."
"No. He's done
something
. He can't call the police because he doesn't know what else we have on him. But we'd look crazy if we cite
The Slide
as our defence for illegal access to data. So, one way or another, Charles and I have a mutual grip on one other's throats."
Dru wasn't sure if that was a statement, a question, or an instruction to carry on digging. "So?"
"What still bothers you?"
"Timing. Why now? And the number of elements in
The Slide
's story that already fit, although they could be coincidence. Plus the Seattle number."
"What about it?"
Dru still had to keep some cards in reserve. "I tried it again and got an out of service message. Which is odd if that's Kinnery's bodyguard. Although the guy who answered it the first time did sound like security. Maybe they just changed phones because I had the number."
Weaver nodded slowly. "I'd go with my instinct."
"Is that an instruction to keep looking?"
"Yes, but with extreme caution. Charles is going to be working here by the end of the year. I need to maintain diplomatic relations. Passive sonar, I think the Navy calls it. Don't ping him — listen for his noise."
Dru wanted some reassurance. She'd done this to secure her job. Even a kapo needed to know that their rations were intact.
"Level with me, Mr Weaver," she said. "The whole point of this exercise was to smooth things over so they didn't derail the merger. Do you feel that's been achieved?"
"Yes, I do," Weaver said. He didn't even pause. "Hence the lilies. I do value your work, Dru. You're thorough. All the technology in the world's no substitute for lateral thinking and the patience to cross-check every cough and spit."
Dru already knew her most admirable quality in Shaun's eyes was that she was invisible, a grey shape in grey mist. So now she could add dull, plodding tenacity and a love of drudgery to her résumé.
Special skills: will eat shit for money; can hide resentment well; makes no friends at work, so fully productive during working hours.
"Thank you," she said, demonstrating at least two of those qualities. He might have been bullshitting, of course. He was very good at that.
And damn, you'd think I'd be ready to record things by now.
"I can go ahead and plan for Tiny Tim's Christmas, then."
"And complete your puzzle."
"Sorry?"
"Everyone knows you love puzzles. When you lunch here, you sit in the corner and work on your puzzle book while you eat."
Dru had never thought that anyone gave enough of a damn to watch her until recently. She realised she probably looked stand-offish.
"I never leave one unfinished," she said. "My old professor would say it's a sign of insecurity. A need for order and control because my mother was the world's most chaotic and untidy woman."
"And is it?"
"I find comfort in completion."
"There. Even setting bad examples can produce good children."
Weaver did a farewell nod and left before Dru could start to ponder hidden meanings in that.
But I'm as safe as I'll ever be.
And she was still in her little sideline of a project, free of the HR suite. How could she move the investigation forward without being spotted?
Another factor was fuelling her need to keep looking – Weaver's own reaction to Kinnery. People assumed others did what they would do, for the most part. A man who thought that his business partner would steal industrial secrets and even use a human mule had to think in those terms to start with. Shaun wasn't a cop drawing his suspicions from daily contact with the ingenuity of criminals. There might have been precedent for it in KWA.
Forget that. None of my business. Just keep going. What else can I access without making any noise?
Grant was still largely invisible, even if his activity had left awkward footprints. She made a note to call him during her lunch hour. If he'd been able to locate the hotline, he'd have told her. The one tangible pin in the map was Dunlop Ranch, so Dru might at least be able to rule some things out and save herself wasted effort.
She needed to know more about Maggie. She tapped out his number and waited.
"Hi Grant. Can you do some research on an individual for me, please? Family tree material. I've got a current address."
"I'll start with state records," he said. "Might be very fast, might not. Some states can run record searches in a day or two. Give me what you've got."
Dru repeated Maggie's name and address, but the best she could do for date of birth was guess at anywhere between 1945 and 1955. The woman might have been older than Kinnery, but was unlikely to a lot younger. All Dru had to go on was that vague comment from Dr Missiakos. She couldn't call him to ask for more information.
"Anything you can steer me on?" Grant asked.
"No, I'm trawling. Anything of note. Any male relatives, possibly called Ian."
It was vague and Dru knew it. She got on with shuffling her paper database, looking for connections between names, places, and dates that might suddenly click and give her another path to explore. Her phone rang about fifteen minutes before she was due to head home.
It was Grant. "I thought I'd share this with you," he said. "Because it's kind of odd."
"You've got a result already?"
"I tried the Washington State Department of Health. I can't request a birth record check without an exact date of birth, and I came up blank on marriage and divorce because I couldn't even guess an approximate year, but I asked for a death certificate search for the hell of it. I started with this year because you might as well work backwards. Believe me, it was a long shot. And guess what."
"She's dead?"
"July."
Dru's gut flipped over. "Before or after the date we hired you?"
"Before. A couple of weeks."
Timing: timing, timing,
timing
. Maggie had died just before
The Slide
had contacted Weaver. It was all too coincidental.
"Anything on an Ian Dunlop?"
"No certificates. Again, I'd need to know the DOB. I checked for a death filed this year, just in case, but there was nothing. That was only my first port of call. I'll carry on with other sources."
"No, hang fire for now." Dru didn't want to create more ripples than she had to. "That's incredibly useful. Thank you."
She phoned Weaver to tell him. It was worth dropping that information on Kinnery to see how he reacted.
"You really think this woman's significant?" Weaver asked.
"It's the activity clustered around July," Dru said. "Look him in the eye when you ask him. If she's involved, then this might well rattle him enough to make him react."
