Lovinescu and Clark in the communications centre. McIntosh and Hurst remain in Building-3A
The Controller deleted the message.
The communications officer guided James and Uri into a secure soundproofed cubicle and closed the door behind them. Inside, the monitor displayed the crest of Internal Affairs with a prompt◦– Enter Clearance Code.
James sat down on the closer of the two chairs and entered the code provided to him by LaForgue. A few seconds later, her foreboding face appeared. LaForgue’s camera could have done with a bit of soft-focus adjustment, James thought to himself. She really was quite hideous.
“Good morning, James, Uri,” she said, in her usual abrupt manner. “Report.”
James spoke first. “We’ve found the general area of the transmission…”
“No locations,” LaForgue reminded him sternly.
“Yes, you were clear on that,” James responded just as caustically. “Problem is, that there are anti-personal mines scattered about. We didn’t dare explore any further.”
LaForgue’s face looked troubled.
“I’m sending a clean-up crew out there, later today,” Uri said. “They are under instruction to clear the mines only and nothing else.”
“Very well,” LaForgue said. “Make sure that’s all they do. What else do you have?”
“We have what we believe is the name of the person who sent the transmission,” James said. He waited for LaForgue to invite him to continue.
“Go on.”
“Kubacki,” James said. “We believe it’s a last name.”
“Yes, we know who Kubacki is,” LaForgue said.
“I seem to be spending a lot of time and effort finding out what you already seem to know,” James said, with a hint of anger.
“As I explained when we first spoke,” LaForgue said. “You are on a need to know basis.”
“So, where is he?” James asked. “I need him to decrypt the technical illustrations.”
“We don’t know,” LaForgue said, after a short pause.
“You don’t know, or you’re not telling me?”
LaForgue’s eyes dropped slightly. “I’m sorry, James; we really do not know where he is. I wish we did.”
After they disconnected, James leaned back and put his hand under his chin in thought. Something wasn’t right. Maybe it was good that LaForgue’s face came through with such clarity. Having nearly lost his company through the deceptions of a very convincing liar a year ago, James paid close attention to people’s facial expressions when they spoke; especially someone like Trish LaForgue.
Obadiah had been waiting patiently outside the booth, making a bit of polite conversation with the communications officer, when James and Uri came out.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard LaForgue apologise to anyone,” Uri said. “You must have some sort of calming influence on her.”
“She still hasn’t told us everything,” James said, with annoyance. “Why does she insist on dealing out information in bits and pieces? Well, two can play at that game.” James knew he was being petty and a little childish, but he’d had enough of LaForgue’s covert ‘need to know’ bullshit. If they had to find the answers on their own, so be it.
Walking a few paces to the exit, James suddenly stopped.
“What?” Uri asked.
“Are these video calls recorded?” he asked Uri.
“Yes. Do you want to play it back?”
“Please. There’s something I need to be sure of,” James said, walking back to the booth.
Uri followed.
After a few replays, James was sure. He played the last few seconds again. “Have a close look. Every time she says ‘we’, her right neck muscle twitches. It’s barely noticeable.”
“Meaning?” Uri asked.
“Meaning there is no ‘we’,” James said, with certainty. “This is a personal quest for her.”
LaForgue looked with impending alarm at the notification balloon that popped up in the bottom right-hand corner of her monitor. Why were Clark and Lovinescu replaying the video call?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emily looked up when James, Obadiah and Uri entered Level-2. Nathan, half-moon glasses balanced on the end of his nose, was staring at his monitor deep in thought.
“How was your chat with LaForgue?” Emily asked.
“The usual level of quality information exchange,” James said, sarcastically. “Every time we tell her something, she informs us that she already knew.” He relayed his suspicions that LaForgue might be working alone.
“Did you tell her that we may have the name of the person who sent the transmission?” she asked.
“Yes. As soon as I mentioned Kubacki, she said that they knew all about him. It’s getting really frustrating,” James said.
“We have a first name,” she said. “César.”
“I presume LaForgue knew that too,” James said. “But I didn’t bother to ask. Before we go any further, is there anything cold to drink here?”
“Yes,” she said pointing. “Check in the refrigerator over there. You’ll find a variety of sodas, water and a few other things.”
“Don’t suppose there’s any Perrier water?”
“Don’t think so James. I doubt they cater to your refined palette,” Emily said, with a smile.
“Well, I think they’re very civilised here,” Nathan interjected. “All their beer is Canadian, but it’s probably a bit too early for that, JW.”
James laughed. “Water it is then. Obadiah, Uri, can I get either of you something?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Clark,” Obadiah said.
“A soda,” Uri said. “Any one will do.”
After a few minutes, James, with a satisfied smile was back; soda in one hand, bottle in the other. “You were wrong, they do stock Perrier.” He sat down in one of the easy chairs. Uri and Obadiah joined him.
“So, how did you come across Kubacki’s first name?” he asked.
“Spoke with Sven this morning,” Emily said, and related the conversation they had.
Nathan unglued his eyes from the screen and faced James and Uri. “He told us another thing and it answered something that’s been bugging me. I’m hoping you can shed some light, Uri.”
“If I can help, certainly,” Uri said.
“It has to do with the formulas,” Nathan said. “Here, have a look at this.”
Uri leaned over while Nathan tilted his laptop for a better view. “I’ve been trying to associate these formulas with data that would be relevant to inertial technology, but they seem more appropriate to the geo-sciences.”
Uri looked closer. “You’re right,” he said. “That second one will give the strength and spread of the Earth’s magnetic field given parameters associated with distance, latitude and longitude.”
“Sven told us that Kubacki is a qualified geophysicist,” Nathan said. “And that doesn’t tie in with the rest of the information in his document.”
“Doesn’t make much sense to me either,” Uri said.
“You don’t think it’s more misdirection, do you?” Emily asked.
“Good point,” Nathan said. “You may be right.”
“We need to find Kubacki,” James said, emphatically.
With no family, friends, associates or personality, César Kubacki, lay in the critical care unit of Henderson Memorial Hospital. The chart clipped to the end of his bed labelled him as ‘John Doe’. Disfigured, in a coma, and with a very small chance of staying alive, Mr. Doe was now one of the most sought-after men in the country. Angelo Cevallos, who saw profit; SkyTech, who needed to unravel a puzzle; the Office of Security who were paranoid with anything they didn’t know about; an anonymous sponsor who wanted some return on investment; and above all, The Controller.