The Darkfall Switch (17 page)

Foster stared grimly at the console and then switched off the radio.

He sat as though transfixed, until she asked what he’d heard.

‘Jesus Christ!’ he said. ‘Joel Matthews. He’s been killed.’

Her eyes widened in shock.

‘I missed the beginning of the report but it seems he was in a car accident yesterday.’

Her response was quiet. ‘How horrible!’

‘More than just horrible,’ he said. ‘That’s the second person who’s suddenly died after giving me information on this Darkfall thing.’

She stared at him as she remembered Luke Proctor’s suicide.

‘Surely not?’ she said. ‘Can’t it just be coincidence?’

He shook his head. ‘Could be, but it would be a mighty big coincidence – too damn big. Anyway, what’s Matthews doing taking a break in the middle of the week to go trail-driving? Those guys are driven by work – they’re passionate about it. I can’t see him taking time off in the middle of the week.

‘And now somebody’s tried to kill us.’ He shook his head and added, ‘No, I’ve stumbled on to something big. Very big.’

He looked at his watch. He wanted to report the new incidents to Grant, but it could wait until they were back at the Brown Palace.

As they set off, and in spite of their best efforts, a pall of gloom fell on them, and it lasted for the rest of the day.

Foster had remained tense and watchful throughout the trip back to the motel and then, after they’d packed their bags and checked out, on their return journey to the Brown Palace. He remembered now the things he’d seen earlier that, at the time, he had dismissed: the small signs of a possible intruder in their room; the car that was always just in view behind them; the two men in their out-of-place business suits, reading newspapers in the motel lobby. Now, with hindsight, these things took
on an ominous significance.

But nobody followed them and there were no surprises waiting for them. But even that was unsettling, like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

At the Brown Palace he asked for Peter Halligan and when the general manager appeared he asked him if anybody had been asking questions about him. ‘No, Sir,’ came the reply. Then Halligan frowned and added, ‘But the
maitre d
’ at the coffee shop did report that somebody had been acting suspiciously the other day. It was as though he was watching you and Ms Coleman. I decided not to worry you about it, Dr Foster. Not unless anything further developed.’

Foster nodded his head absentmindedly. He was thinking: whoever the mysterious observer was, it was now clear that he had seen Joel Matthews hand over the disk in the café. Had that act signed the PPD man’s death certificate? And had it been the trigger to the attempt on their own lives? It seemed all too likely.

He thanked Halligan and asked him to alert his staff to be on the lookout for any unusual activities relating to him and Janet. Then he said he would be checking out the next day, as soon as he had made the necessary flight arrangements.

After that, they had dinner in the restaurant and went up to their room.

After he had carefully opened the door, Foster searched inside the room for signs of anything unusual. But, as far as he could tell, nobody had disturbed any of their possessions.

While Janet opened the minibar and took out drinks for them, he switched on his laptop, connected it to the hotel network and booked their flight back to London. Then he rang Grant and outlined the recent events, carefully leaving out any reference to Janet.

‘Good God, man!’ Grant gasped. ‘Be careful. And when you come back here I’ve got some news for you, about your friend Worzniak. You must be careful of him, laddie.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Foster replied. ‘Believe me, I’ll be giving him a wide berth.’

‘Do you want me to do anything from here?’ Grant asked. ‘I could mebbe see about getting some kind of protection for you.’

Foster considered the offer briefly. It would give them some security if it could be arranged, but it would necessitate telling Grant about
Janet’s presence. He made a decision. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth it. I’m booked on a flight tomorrow.’

He hung up and said, ‘OK. We’re out of here tomorrow. We should pack up most of our things now, so that we can check out early.’

This they did, and then they went to bed, to sleep a restless sleep.

Having caught the evening flight from Denver, they landed at Heathrow early in the morning. Their flight had been assisted by favourable winds, so they had landed early, and it was still only 9 a.m. when they arrived back to Foster’s boat. They drank coffee while they stood on the deck, looking across the river at Kingston beginning to wake. The morning was chilly, and there was a faint hint of dampness in the air. The bare branches of the chestnuts bordering the river stood like stark black skeletons against the grey sky. Even the river had lost its sparkle, and its surface had a flat oily sheen as it swirled sluggishly past
Lake Goddess
’s hull. The steel handrails dripped moisture on to the deck.

They had eaten breakfast on the flight, but by ten o’clock they were hungry again, so Foster prepared another one for them in his galley – a far more substantial one this time. After they’d eaten, he rang Arnold Coward’s offices and arranged to meet Grant there in the afternoon. Janet had booked another few days’ leave, so she said she’d like to do some shopping locally. She would be back that evening.

They then went back up on deck to finish their coffee. Janet leaned against him and he felt her shiver. They had both put on warm sweaters but the damp chill of the morning air had quickly penetrated even these. They had tried vainly to adjust themselves to the time, altitude and climate differences, but were still slightly disorientated.

‘What’ll happen now, Dan?’ Janet asked eventually.

For a while he didn’t respond. He stared pensively over the water towards the shops and pubs opposite. Even at this hour there was still
not much light in the sky, and the buildings looked grey and mysterious. Finally he took a deep breath and replied, ‘Don’t quite know. I’d hoped to have taken a proper look at that disk by now. I’ve still no real idea of what’s on it.’

‘Will you look now?’

‘No point. I’d need a couple of hours at least, and I need to keep a clear head. Anyway, with the meeting coming up this afternoon I won’t be able to concentrate. I hope Ian Forsyth may have had somebody look at the copy I mailed. They may be able to tell me something.’

‘What disk?’ Grant barked, and Foster’s heart sank. Unless it had got lost in the post, this meant that Worzniak had pulled yet another trick.

Foster frowned at him. ‘I mailed you a CD from Denver,’ he said.

Grant picked up his telephone and asked his secretary if any package had arrived for him from the USA. He hung up the phone and shook his head. ‘When did you mail it?’ he asked.

‘Days ago. Can I make a call?’ Grant nodded and Foster flipped open his PDA and called the Brown Palace’s number. When he got through to Halligan, he told him about his request to the concierge and asked him to check that the package had indeed been mailed to England. Halligan said he would check, but it might take some time; could he ring back?

While they waited for the call to come through, Foster recounted more about what had happened at the Lazy S. Previously he’d only told Grant the bare bones of it. Now he filled in the detail. Once again, he carefully avoided making any reference to Janet’s presence there.

When he’d finished, Grant shook his head and said, ‘I could not believe it yesterday, when you said that somebody had tried to kill you.’

‘It’s true all right. Helicopters don’t appear in the sky over an isolated ranch and then fly directly at a horseback rider for fun. It was lucky for me that I didn’t go over the cliff.’

‘You think Worzniak’s behind this?’

Foster nodded, and said, ‘Who else?’

Grant stared at him for a few seconds and then said, ‘I told you I had some information for you.’

‘You did. Was it about my friend Joe?’

Grant looked at him thoughtfully before taking a deep breath and replying, ‘I need to explain something first. As you know, when we first asked the Americans for some assistance they were not their usual
cooperative
selves. But, eventually, when they realized that we were very concerned, they agreed to help. And then this man Worzniak called to say that he’d been assigned to help you. At the time we were grateful, but when you told us about your meeting with him we started a wee investigation.’

‘And?’

‘You told us he worked for the Office of Strategic Projects.’

‘That’s right. Part of the State Department, I think. At least, that’s what Luke Proctor’s parents were told.’

Grant shook his head. ‘No. It’s not part of the State Department. And Worzniak seems to be a very strange character.’

‘Strange?’

‘Aye. You recall the American Presidential last year? Well, before that, Mr Worzniak had a very high-powered position with the previous administration. Just what it was is veiled in a wee mist of secrecy. Sir James says he senses some embarrassment with his contacts in the new administration over it, but we can’t find out anything definite.’

‘You said he once had a high-powered job,’ Foster said, ‘does that mean he’s out of office now?’

‘That’s the strange thing. We can’t be sure. One minute the Americans say he’s been put out to graze, the next they indicate that he’s still active.’

‘Active? Doing just what?’

Grant gave a Mona Lisa smile and shrugged. ‘Our investigations continue, as they say.’

‘Well, I certainly took a dislike to the guy. And the two deaths – surely they couldn’t be coincidental? And then there’s the little matter of the attempt on my own life.’

Grant lifted his chin and looked thoughtful. ‘In this post-Watergate age,’ he said, ‘it would be very dangerous and unwise for a government agency to set about murdering its own citizens and trying to kill friendly visitors from its allies.’

‘Cleverly done, though,’ Foster observed. ‘Luke’s death could easily have been suicide: the remorseful act of a distraught and disturbed youngster who had just found out that he had been the cause of so many deaths. And Matthews? A tragic accident on a hazardous mountain trail. And then me, a greenhorn taking an unwise route through unfamiliar country.’

‘But they hadn’t thought it through, had they?’ Grant argued. ‘Whatever their intention with regard to the boy, it was always possible the truth would eventually emerge, that he had been murdered.’

Foster shuddered. ‘But they’d have pinned it on me. I’d have been hung out to dry. Forgive me, Grant, but I don’t see the British Government trying too hard to defend a British citizen who’d been accused of murder in America. Everybody would have thought I’d gone off my rocker.’

‘Och, you misjudge our politicians!’ Grant protested, but his slight smile indicated that, despite his defensive protestation, he knew that it was probably true.

‘Anyway,’ said Foster, ‘It was a stroke of luck that I had a cast-iron alibi. If somebody had been intending to pin it on me they must have cursed at that.’

‘It’s all conjecture,’ Grant said. ‘All we know with any certainty is that there was one murder and one accidental death linked to all of this. And what looks like an attempt on your life. In view of those incidents, it does seem highly likely that these things were linked. But we have no way of identifying the perpetrator. I canna believe that Mr Worzniak could be the sole culprit. Where would he get hold of a helicopter? And assuming that flying one of those machines was not one of his qualifications, how would he persuade a pilot to help?’

‘I don’t know,’ Foster replied. ‘But I do know that there’s a frightening pattern to all that’s been happening. Worzniak saw Matthews give me that disk, and then he pinched it. That left the possibility that I’d made a copy of it, or kept one on the laptop – cue the search of my room. Once they were sure that there was no other copy, they’d need to get rid of me. If I had a copy on me it could be removed after the accident. And if I hadn’t, my death would have ended the risk of anybody finding out about it.’

Grant looked at him.

‘But then it all stopped,’ Foster said. ‘Why? They searched my room, stole the disk, followed me to the park, tried to kill me there. And then? Nothing.’

‘Ah well,’ Grant said. ‘Perhaps we had a wee hand in that.’

Foster frowned and the Scot went on: ‘After you telephoned and told me what had been happening, my lords and masters got on to the Americans. Warned them that you were working for us and if any harm
came to you there would be major diplomatic implications.’

‘And you think that’s why Worzniak was pulled off?’

‘Aye, it would seem so. But remember: he’s no longer in favour anyway – certainly not with the new Administration. Sir James thinks they’re unhappy with whatever Worzniak was doing previously and that they’ve ordered him off.’

Foster stared at him. It made sense. ‘But anyway,’ he said finally, taking a deep breath ‘I’m not going to get involved with murder investigations. You asked me to track down what happened to some power stations, and that’s what I’ll try to do.’

‘Good man!’ Grant said, giving a sigh as though relieved that Foster was moving back to his proper mission. ‘Indeed, let’s leave the other things to the proper authorities. So what’s your next move?’

‘I’m going to visit Queensborough power station,’ Foster said. ‘They’ve got a simulator there that I’ll ask to use.’

‘Simulator?’

‘Yes, in addition to the four control computers – one for each unit there – they bought a fifth one that they use for training staff. As far as I know it’s identical to the operational ones.’

‘And they’ll let you use it?’

‘I’m sure they will. I have good contacts there. They certainly wouldn’t want me to mess about with the control systems of operating plant, but the simulator will let me find out a lot.’

‘Good! Will you need any help from us?’

‘Only if I hit problems.’

At that point Foster’s mobile rang. It was Halligan’s promised call.

‘I’m sorry, Dr Foster,’ the American said. ‘I’ve spoken with Robert, the concierge who was on duty that night, and he does remember your request. But when he found an envelope and returned to his podium he found that the disk had been taken. He’d gone away for a minute or two at the most, so whoever took it must have been watching when you handed it over, and then acted very quickly. Well, as you can imagine, Robert was very worried. He looked everywhere and asked all the nearby staff, but it had definitely been taken. By the time Robert discovered the loss you’d checked out.’

With his present hindsight, Foster wasn’t really surprised, though he was puzzled that he hadn’t been told of the incident before he left. But the question was answered before he could frame it. Halligan said, ‘I’m
sorry that I didn’t tell you, sir. But it happened before you’d asked us to keep a lookout for anything odd, and Robert was off duty when I asked the staff to be wary.’

There was nothing else to do, so Foster thanked Halligan and hung up the phone.

‘Somebody took it,’ he explained. ‘They weren’t to know that it was only a copy. But even if they’d guessed, their theft had at least reduced the number of copies around. They’d taken two copies; probably thought that was all there were.’

Grant stared at him. ‘What on earth is on that disk?’ he asked.

‘Don’t know. But I’ve brought you another copy.’ He handed it over and continued, ‘I’ll take mine to Queensborough and see what happens there.’

When he returned to
Lake Goddess
, Foster rang Bill Kirkland. When he asked for permission to try out something on the simulator Kirkland readily agreed. ‘I’ll just need to check that nobody else’s booked it,’ he said. ‘But I’m pretty sure it’s clear at the moment. We had an operator training course on it last week, and we don’t usually run those one after another.’

They agreed on the necessary arrangements and soon afterward, Janet arrived, smiling happily and clutching several large bags.

‘I’ve been shopping,’ she said. ‘Had a great time. What about you?’

He told her about his meeting with Grant and the planned trip to Queensborough the next day.

‘Can I come?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen a power station. Well, not from inside: I only know them as huge mysterious hulks on the horizon as I drive past. I can have another day off without any problems.’

‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I’d appreciate the company.’

He rang Kirkland, who readily agreed to get another visitor’s pass for her. He was obviously curious about Janet but Foster cut him off with a promise to tell all when they met. Kirkland’s disappointment was clear, but he agreed to wait. ‘By the way,’ he said. ‘I’ve checked: the simulator is clear tomorrow. I’ve booked it for you for the whole day.’

‘So,’ Foster asked after terminating the call, ‘what have you been up to, young lady?’

She showed him her acquisitions: a couple of dresses and a blouse.

Afterwards, they went out to supper at a nearby Chinese restaurant.
As they ate, she asked him what she’d be seeing at Queensborough.

‘It’s a big old coal-burning station,’ he said.

‘Coal?’ She sounded really surprised.

‘Yes, coal,’ he laughed in response. ‘It was built in the Midlands in the days when we used our native resources to generate electricity instead of importing gas from overseas. It burns coal. Huge trainloads of it. Day in and day out. The heat boils water and the steam turns turbines. They in turn drive the generators that produce the electricity.’

‘And how clean is it?’ she asked.

‘As clean as it can be made. From the very early days of power stations, engineers were always trying to reduce pollution. Initially it was a question of economics rather than the environment, because black smoke is unburned fuel. Less waste, more cost-effectiveness.’

‘And are they successful.’

‘Absolutely. Queensborough is one of the cleanest plants around.’ He smiled at her. ‘A few months ago a bunch of environmentalists decided to hold a big protest at its gates. Said it was the dirtiest power station in the land. Wanted it closed down.’

‘And is it? The dirtiest, I mean.’

‘Depends on how you look at it. Because it’s so big it does produce more pollutants than a smaller power station, but if you closed it down the shortfall would have to be made up by running other, smaller power stations. And because they’re not so clean and modern, the result would be more pollution, not less.’