THE ORANGE MOON AFFAIR (20 page)

It was housed in a building close to the factory's own private test track. The last time I was here I had wondered why so large an area was being excavated. Now I could see why. It had everything. Rough road conditions, high-speed circuit, crash testing facilities, the lot. The building we were headed towards was about the size of one of those light industrial units you see on small town industrial estates. Sean Flynn opened the door and I followed him in.

There, sitting in front of me, was the most beautiful looking car I'd ever seen in my life. The De Costas Venus GT.

It was metallic light blue with tinted glass, wide wheels and tyres, and the general appearance of having stepped straight out of a science fiction film.

"Go on. Get in," Billy said. I went up to the car.

There were no door handles.

"And just where is the biometrics pad?" I said. Billy chuckled again, leaned past me and pressed his thumb on the door pillar. The gull wing door hissed open to reveal the sumptuous interior. All leather and wood.

"The whole pillar or just a section?”

“A three inch section, the exact position is different on each car. It’s the owner's choice. When we get back to the office, I'll code your thumb print into the system so you can get into the car." He waved his hand toward the cockpit. I climbed in and lowered myself into the incredibly comfortable and snug seat. The steering wheel fell easily to hand, the paddle shifters just where they should be. The dashboard was a series of LCD digital displays that were linked to the central computer. There was everything. A display for fuel consumption, ignition function, oil pressure and consistency, water temperature, electrical discharge and alternator function and a diagrammatic fault tracing chart for the engine, plus full communications console with Smartphone connection, GPS navigation display and rear video camera. It was a 2+2, but still with ample room in the rear for two adults.

"Jesus." I said and let out a low whistle. "This is some machine."

"V6 3 litre engine just behind the rear seats, capable of 545 bhp and a fuel consumption of 60 mpg or in new parlance, 21 kilometres per litre. It’s assembled here too. It’s just the fuel-metering problem that needs to be sorted. Here have a look." I climbed out of the car and went around to the back. The engine was neatly housed and surprisingly accessible, mainly because the whole of the back end of the car lifted up. After we'd discussed the engine, Billy showed me the rest of the test and development area. It took up half the building and contained all the necessary monitoring equipment, ramps, and a special booth for simulating hot and cold conditions. There was a suspension testing device and a machine that tested bearings to destruction. The other half of the building was secret and only the top designers and De Costas himself were allowed inside. Although I was enthralled by all this high technology and the superb workmanship of the car, I was also aware of everything around me. I took mental notes of my surroundings.

"I'd invite you to take a drive, but as you know we have a fuel metering problem." He winked and moved his head as if to say '
follow me'
, then strode away to the rear of the building.

“They have cameras on the car, but not over here,” Billy said quietly. “You'll be interested in 'The Lab', as they call it. Only a handful of people are allowed in and they don't mix with the other employees. I don't know just how you are going to get in, but Danny says to give you everything you need.”

“Right now I need a quick lesson in computer software so my cover doesn't get blown.”

“Don't worry I've got that under control, I'll show you when we get back to the office. I'll take you past 'The Lab' on the way.”

From the outside, 'The Lab' was built on the excavated area I had seen when I visited last year. It looked like an afterthought thrust against the side of the main manufacturing plant, with almost unnoticeable CCTV cameras on the corners under the flat roof overhang, that covered every approach angle, so there would be no access from outside. Just as we were passing by the door, a stocky, well-muscled man appeared from the main building and walked toward us. I could tell from the lump in his ill-fitting jacket that he was carrying a large automatic, and from his expression I knew he had been tracking us on the CCTV monitor inside.

“Who's your friend Billy?” the man said with no hint of friendship.

“Tom Nelson from Orion Electronics here to fix the computer problem, Sean.”

“This area's off limits, you know that.”

“Just taking a short cut back to the office. Been giving Tom the ten cent tour.”

“Take the five cent tour and the long route next time,” Sean said rudely and waited until we were well on our way before returning to his lair.

“Sean Flynn. Definitely not an average worker,” Billy said quietly as we walked back to the office. As we walked I was thinking that I'd have to call Professor Oldfield. It had been a while since I talked to him about Julie's death, but he wanted to help and I needed a way of accessing the De Costas factory's building plans. There still had to be an entrance into 'The Lab' from inside the main manufacturing floor, as witnessed by the fact that Sean Flynn had come from there as we walked past 'The Lab's' main door.

“I've programmed your computer as a clone of mine. Anything I do to the software will show up as your work no matter what buttons you press,” Billy was saying. “Anyone casually glancing at your screen will think you're the real genius.”

Billy and I stayed long after everyone had left the office for the day, under the pretence of the urgent need to fix the software problem, which mysteriously seemed to resist all our attempts to solve it. It provided the excuse to have access to the prototype Venus GT so that we could use a laptop to run diagnostics and various 'fixes'. None of which worked of course. The night security made their rounds and gave us a cursory inspection before leaving us to our 'work'.

Retreating to the far corner of the workshop out of sight of the cameras, I dialled Oldfield.

“What do you need,” he said without preamble, knowing that I was calling for help.

“The building plans for the Venus Automotive factory in Dundonald. It used to be Rathborne Micro-Electronics and may still be listed as that with the planning department.”

“I'll send you a code access for a secure website when I've tracked the plans down. What mobile can I text you on?” he asked and I could hear him already typing furiously on his keyboard. I gave him the burn number.

“I'll get back to you,” he said crisply.

Billy and I continued on for another two hours, acting out our 'frustration' at not being to 'solve' the problem, and eventually shut everything down at midnight.

Eileen was waiting for me
in the drawing room when I arrived back at the B&B, dressed in a thick white, floor length Terry towelling dressing gown. Beside her on the coffee table were two shot glasses and an unlabelled bottle of clear liquor.

"Come on in, I thought you might like a nightcap.” She leaned forward and lifted the bottle. “My mother's supply of very old Poteen. My uncle makes it," she whispered.

“It's a bit late,” I said dubiously eying the bottle, knowing what 'old' Poteen could do to your mind.

"Go on. Try it," she said, poured me a shot glass full and handed it to me. I took a sip of the clear liquid. It was smooth to taste, and then the 90 proof alcohol caught up as it burned all the way down my throat. It was good and reminded me of sitting with Danny, listening to Caruso and drinking until we could barely see straight.

It was comfortable in the warm little house and I could see that after two glasses, the Poteen had already gone to Eileen's head. She looked at me with smoky eyes, her mouth slightly open and lips moist.

“You are an attractive man, Mr Tom Nelson. But you know that don't you?” she said softly, slurring her words. "You're not the nerdy computer freak everyone thinks you are." She laughed quietly. “I heard you met Sean Flynn today.”

“You did, did you?”

“It's a small work force and anything that happens around 'The Lab' gets noticed.”

“Ah. Gossip. That's why I stay away from hotels.”

“Don't worry I won’t tell, if you don't.”

“That Sean guy seems a bit strange, scared the life out of me.”

“Scares the life out of everyone. That's his job.”

“Maybe he thought I was a spy or reporter looking for a story.”

“Young Aidan got fired for taking a peek inside 'The Lab'. Nobody's seen him since.”

“Better stick to my computer then.”

She rose, picked up the glasses and bottle and left the room. I heard her wash the glasses, then make her way upstairs.

I got up, switched the light out and went up to my room, undressed, washed and climbed gratefully into bed. It had been a long day and an even longer night, and my leg was throbbing from the activity. I lay awake thinking about how to get into 'The Lab', but could not come to any conclusions until I had the plans from Oldfield. And as if to answer my plea, the burn phone buzzed softly in my jacket pocket. I slipped out of bed, slipped into a pair of tracksuit pants and retrieved the phone. It was the website and code from Oldfield. Taking the laptop I went downstairs to the kitchen and turned it on. While it booted up I helped myself to a glass of milk from the fridge to ease the acid in my stomach from the Poteen. I used the iPhone Danny had left for me to connect to the Internet, typed in the computer unlock code and went to the site Oldfield had given me. How he had managed to find the correct plans amongst what seemed to be a dizzying myriad of different editions, was beyond me, but then that was his skill, not mine.

From what I could see, the doorway leading from the main assembly floor to 'The Lab', was closed off by a thick wall. The plan was dated three weeks ago and I wondered if that coincided with young Aidan's adventure.

It was just the slightest sound of bare feet on the wooden floor that alerted me to Eileen's presence, so I quickly escaped the website, unplugged the iPhone and brought up the Venus GT system controller schematic.

“What are you doing?” she whispered accusingly. I jumped and turned quickly as if startled by her voice.

“Dear God, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” I whispered hand over my heart. Eileen peered over my shoulder and stared at the schematic of which I knew she had no understanding. “I just had an idea and wanted to work on it. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's nearly two o'clock in the morning.”

“And I have a deadline to keep. If I don't get the system running properly, I'll lose my job.”

“I just came down for a glass of milk,” she said sleepily.

“Me too. That Poteen is pretty powerful. I’ll get it, you sit down.” I crossed to the cupboard and I fetched a glass from the cupboard, and then retrieved the milk from the fridge. Eileen yawned and rubbed her eyes.

“There you go,” I said quietly, placing the glass in front of her. She drank half and then stood.

“Okay. I'm going back to bed. You better get some sleep too. The big boss is visiting tomorrow.”

“Big Boss?”

“Mr De Costas. Flying in from San Francisco.”

THIRTEEN

Over the past few days
I had watched the security guard schedules, and plotted the locations of all the CCTV cameras. The fence at the far side of the test track had a small blind spot where one of the cameras did not quite rotate to cover the arc of the other camera fifty metres away. I discovered it when I had taken a walk around the track during my lunch break two days ago.

Earlier in the evening I had slipped sleeping powder into the cups of tea I made for Eileen and her mother, and waited until I knew they were asleep before I left the house and headed for the factory.

It had started to rain, again, and the anorak was no match for the cold wind that made me shiver as I slipped through the hole in the fence, and quickly ran to the test building where Billy and I had been working. From there it was a question of timing the camera rotations and slipping across the open space to the main manufacturing building. The unobtrusive back door, hidden behind a builder's dumpster, left over from the construction, opened easily, much to my surprise. But then the actual manufacturing facility wasn't in full production yet, as the computer fuel metering glitch still had to be fixed so there were still lapses in the security, which surprised me.

I closed my eyes and flipped through the office floor plan I had memorised, but it is one thing to have a map in front of you, it is quite another to go from memory. Dull security lights gave the robotic machines used for welding, lifting and turning, a strange haunting and decidedly creepy look, as if any moment they would leap into life, pluck me from the floor and weld me into one of the monocoque car chassis.

Eventually I found myself in the right section close to the manufacturing supervisor's office. I was just about to turn the handle of the door when the muffled sound of voices stopped me. I tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. It was difficult with the soundproofing. I opened the door and the voices became clearer. There were two men in the office I had to go through to get to what I thought maybe a smaller office or store room in the rear where the blocked up doorway to 'The Lab' was located.

"So everything is set then? Are you sure the load is correctly marked?" It was a man's voice with a distinctly East European accent.

"Listen, I told you. It's all set. Everything's marked up just like the Boss wants." This man's accent was pure Brooklyn. There was silence for a moment or two except for the shuffling of papers. One of the men laughed, a short crude sound.

"Orange Moon. I ask you. What the hell kind of name is that?"

The other man grunted and mumbled a reply that I missed.

"O.K. That seems to be it. Let's go." There was a scrape of chairs. I gently shut the door, and quickly slipped behind one of the part welded monocoque chassis. There was no shout. I hadn’t been spotted. As I listened to the footsteps recede, I went over what I'd heard. They had obviously been talking about a shipment and, by the sounds of it, were probably filling in shipping manifests. But it was the use of the words
'Orange Moon'
that had caught my attention.