WHERE THEY FALL, page 6
Alana left Lachlan standing naked in the shower clutching his towel. She walked across the room and stepped out into the corridor, leaving the handle-less door ajar. Although the fear had receded, intrigue and confusion were flowing readily through Lachlan’s wild thoughts.
Five minutes later, Lachlan appeared in the corridor to join Alana. The clothing fit him with a tailor’s precision. The white lab coat looked as if they made it for him.
“You look much better,” Alana said. “Much more presentable. Some colour has even returned to that ghostly face of yours. Now it’s time for you to find out what we do.”
Alana started walking. She headed deeper into the corridor of Area A, leaving Lachlan standing alone in the silent hallway. He paused for a moment while confusion settled, then caught up, jogging down the corridor after her.
“So, are you going to tell me anything yet?”
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
“Sure!”
“Well…”
“You’re not a very patient man. Are you Lachlan Harvey?”
“Given the circumstances, would you be?”
Alana stopped walking, pivoted on the spot, and looked at Lachlan.
“Okay. Project Alpha is a highly classified research program. We’re testing a range of prototype pharmaceutical products and Nano-technologies.”
“Okay, that’s not what I expected at all. I don’t quite follow.”
“Our scientists are testing the success rates, side effects and potential health concerns of certain products that would not be appropriate for mainstream testing or public knowledge.”
“What sort of stuff?”
“Many things. We’re currently testing everything from new generation growth hormones and synthetic pain killers to population control products and cell fighting micro-bots.”
“Jesus. What are you testing these things on? Rats? Primates? Wait? Population control? What do you mean population control?”
Alana turned and continued walking down the empty corridor. She ignored Lachlan’s barrage of questions. They reached the end of the corridor before she offered a response. There, beside a fortified steel door, Alana placed her thumb on a small metal touchpad. The pad flashed green, and the door opened, sliding from the ground up and disappearing into the roof space. They both stepped through and the door rolled shut behind them.
“Are you going to answer any of my questions? What are you testing these products on?”
“Well, Lachlan Harvey. That’s where you come in.”
“I still don’t follow. You’re trialling controversial medication? My area of expertise is synthetic biology. My knowledge of pharmaceuticals is quite limited.”
“We did not bring you here for your knowledge on pharmaceutical production.”
Alana snickered.
Lachlan stopped. He reached out and grabbed Alana by the forearm. “Look,” he said firmly. “Can you quit fucking with me and tell me what’s going on? I don’t want your riddles.”
“Remove your hand from my arm, Mr Harvey.”
Alana’s tone made it strikingly clear that she was a woman accustomed to being listened to. “You agreed to cooperate. Touch me again and we won’t be so welcoming. I can promise you that.”
Lachlan let go of Alana’s arm. Her fiery eyes met his. Lachlan’s heart rate rose.
She sighed. “Why are men so impatient?” she whispered. “It’s probably why you’re all useless in the sack. I intended to show you first, but your nagging is tiresome. We’re testing these products on human subjects.”
Alana’s response took Harvey by surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“That can’t be legal? How can you test population control on humans? Who’s funding this research program?”
“Mr Harvey, look how we obtained you. Do you think legal is our concern? The people funding this program are more powerful than the law. These are not the kinds of research trials we can do on willing human subjects under the public eye.”
“So you kidnap your subjects? You’ve kidnapped me to test drugs on me?”
Alana laughed. The dimple on her cheek returned. “Oh, absolutely not, Mr Harvey. That would be a tremendous waste of your talents.”
“So where do you get the subjects from? You kidnap them with fake Uber drivers?”
Alana laughed again and kept walking. “No, not at all. How we acquire the subjects is why you’re here. The pharmaceutical program is only a means to an end. It was not the initial purpose of Project Alpha. It was an after-thought, a way to attract more investors.” Alana turned and made eye contact with Lachlan Harvey. “The investors originally planned the project to analyse the viability of engineering and producing human subjects.”
Lachlan Harvey stopped walking. The corridor shrank around him. “Did I hear you right? Engineering and producing human subjects...”
“That’s correct.”
“So you make humans?”
“Yes, Mr Harvey, to a degree. And that’s why we need you. Synthetic biology. We need your knowledge so we can iron out the kinks.”
“Are you fucking nuts? Making humans? This cannot be.”
“Believe me, Mr Harvey. It can be. And it is.”
“So you’re playing God? Ethically, this is madness. Scientifically, I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t give me the ethical highroad, Mr Harvey. You cannot mix scientific progression with ethics. They’re rarely fitting accomplices. Mankind has been playing God forever. The integral desire of mankind is progression. If it can be done, it will be done…”
“Yes, but synthetically growing food products to fight famine in one thing. Synthetically engineering medication to eliminate the reliance on opium is another, but how and why can you justify engineering real, breathing, talking humans? Humans have souls.”
“And what exactly is a soul, Mr Harvey? Please give me your professional scientific definition.”
Lachlan paused.
Alana smirked. It was the same unsettling smile she had given before. “Surely what we’re doing here intrigues the synthetic biologist in you?”
He didn’t respond. She was right. It intrigued him… and frightened him. And somewhat sickened him. His heart rate had increased. His palms tingled with nervousness.
The white-tiled corridor widened into a small room. Two guards stood beside the wall. Both wore black outfits and gripped black rifles.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” one of them said.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Please let us in, Sebastian. Mr Harvey here is one of the new staff members. I’m taking him to Area B.”
The tall guard to the left of the door nodded and turned to type a code into a touchpad on the wall. The other guard stood motionless, his assault rifle resting across his chest.
As the touchpad flashed green, the door opened with a slight mechanical hum.
“After you, Lachlan.”
She used his first name again.
He hesitated before stepping through the doorway and into a large octagon-shaped room. The room housed a control station manned by two men wearing similar lab coats to Lachlan’s. Multiple monitor screens hung from the ceiling. Keypads with a range of coloured buttons crowded the control station’s grey table. Thick glass windows bordered the octagon. Lachlan saw what he could only describe as cells behind each window. His eyes scanned from cell to cell in disbelief. Each cell contained almost no furniture, yet a tenant occupied each cell.
Naked and alone, the occupants were oblivious to his entrance. Half were male. Half were female. All of them looked to be in good health. He would have guessed them to be in their mid to late twenties. They had very little body fat and well-defined muscles. All subjects, regardless of gender, had light blonde hair. All subjects had blue eyes. They seemed calm in their cells. They seemed unaware of their nakedness.
“You’re telling me you have engineered these people?”
Alana nodded.
“This can’t be real,” said Lachlan, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Believe me, Mr Harvey. It most certainly is.”
EIGHT
Rain drizzled in a misty, windswept spray.
Parking in the CBD at any hour always proved to be a nightmare, so Cameron Cole pulled his Ford Ranger up against the curb in a tow-away zone in Flinders Lane. It was 9:12pm. He doubted any parking inspectors would do the rounds at this time of night in the rain.
He threw on his North Face waterproof jacket, stepped out into the drizzle, and headed for Flinders Street. He rushed along the quiet backstreet as he pulled the hood over his shaved head.
As he reached the busy main road he scanned left and right for the Regal Theatre. It wasn’t hard to locate. Three buildings from the corner, the theatre stood out like a sore thumb. It was an old sandstone building built in similar fashion to mid-century churches, nestled in contrast between two modern multi-story apartment buildings. The theatre was elegant. Steep eaves, sandstone pillars and detailed features carved into the stonework. It was built at a time when masonry was still a valued trade and an expressive form of art.
Cole yanked on the front door handle. No surprise he found it locked. He peered through the dirty windows, protected with rusted cast iron grills. Darkness. Advertisements for various up and coming amateur performances crowded the front step. A sign mounted to the heavy hardwood doors at the stop of the slate steps read:
Theatre for Hire
There was a mobile number to contact.
He considered calling it, but opted against it. He didn’t know what he could gain by calling the venue’s management. He stood on the slate steps and stared up and down Flinders Street. A small crowd gathering on the sidewalk caught his attention a few doors down. They lingered out the front of a late night kebab shop, soaking up their evening of beer with the Greek crowd favourite.
Yianni’s Kebabs appeared popular. Music thumped from inside the eatery. As Cole walked towards the crowd of people standing on the footpath outside the shop, he looked up and noticed three CCTV cameras mounted along the eaves of the building.
“Bingo.”
He removed the hood of his jacket as he stepped inside. A line of people waited to order their late-night snack, tapping feet and swaying to the repetitive rhythm of the music. Cole sidestepped the queue and reached the counter. He pulled his Victoria Police Department badge from a clip on his belt and rested it on the greasy bench top.
A young guy busied himself with kebabs, bopping his head along to the music. He had a gold earring in each ear, a thin, black beard that he maintained a little too well, and a gold chain hanging outside his greasy work shirt. He paid Cole no attention as he carved lamb meat off the steaming rotisserie.
“How’s it going? I’m Detective Cameron Cole, Major Crimes Squad.” Cole almost had to yell over the music.
The young man turned his attention from his kebab meat to Cole. He looked at the badge, then back at Cole. His face scrunched up into a defensive scowl.
“What’s this about?”
“Your cameras out the front. Do they record what they film or are they there for show?”
The guy put his carving knife down on the stainless steel bench and wiped the meat juice from his hands with a less than sanitary white tea towel. Moans of impatience erupted in the line behind Cole.
“Nah, they record everything, mate. They’re on a forty-eight hour cycle. I transfer the footage to a hard drive. Why?”
“Do you mind if I look at the footage from last night?”
“Why? Nothing happened here last night.”
He sounded defensive.
“It’s not about you, mate. It’s not about your shop. I just need to see the footage from the camera facing west.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
Cole laughed. “How much TV do you watch? Did you see that on CSI or some shit? This has nothing to do with you or your customers. Don’t give me that Hollywood rubbish. Why would I get a warrant? I want to see what happened west of here on Flinders Street. I assumed you would be helpful.”
The guy sighed, paused, and then nodded in compliance.
“Okay, hold on.”
He left the counter and disappeared from view, stepping into the back room of the small outlet. More disgruntled whispers came from the line. Cole clenched his teeth and ignored them. Now was not the time to cause a scene with drunken and hungry partygoers.
The guy with the gold chain returned within the minute. A young woman followed him. She was of similar age. Mid-twenties maybe. Same ethnicity. She was quite pretty. She pulled out a pair of latex gloves from a box under the counter and made eye contact with the impatient man standing behind Cole.
“What can I get for you this evening?”
The guy with the gold chain looked at Cole.
“Come with me.”
Cole walked around the counter and followed the guy out the back.
“What’s your name?”
“Nick.”
“Who’s Yianni then?”
“He was my uncle. He started the place back in the nineties. Died of stomach cancer about five years ago. Probably from too many kebabs…”
Nick laughed.
Cole kept silent.
The back room was dull. It had a musty smell. Beside the storeroom, a small, unorganised office hid in the shadows. They both entered the cramped office. The room housed little more than a filing cabinet and a desk littered with paperwork. Cole spotted a silver Dell laptop nestled between the sea of unorganised paperwork. Nick opened the top drawer of the small desk and pulled out a black hard drive.
“So what’s this about?” he asked while plugging the hard drive into the HDMI socket on the side of his laptop.
“There was a science conference at the theatre a few doors down last night. Someone who attended the conference failed to make it home last night. I want to see if your camera has recorded him leaving.”
“No shit? So it’s a missing person?”
“You could say that, Nick. It could be a little too early to say. Now how can I watch from 8:45 onwards?”
“Easy! Here, open this up. This cycle is from 6:00pm to midnight. Just move the cursor along the bottom. The time stamp is on the top right.”
“Great, thanks.”
Cole sat down in front of the small laptop. The wooden seat groaned under his weight. It was cheap and uncomfortable. Nick hovered frustratingly over his shoulder. Using the touchpad beside the keyboard, Cole dragged the footage through the evening. 7:00pm. 8:00pm. 8:30pm. He then pressed play.
He pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his jacket and opened Facebook. He searched for Lachlan Harvey. A range of positive search results appeared, but the Lachlan Harvey in question had prime position at the top of the list. From Melbourne, Australia. Works at Melbourne University. The biologist had his account set to private, yet Cole could still access the profile picture. Clicking on the small image, Cole zoomed in.
Harvey looked good for his age. He had a short, well-kept head of silvery grey hair. Wide, lively blue eyes, clean-shaven and a good amount of weight. He looked healthy in the photo. He looked happy.
Focusing back on the footage, Cole had an uninterrupted view of the front stairs of the theatre. He saw people leave in dribs and drabs as the footage ran. A small group of younger attendees left. An elder, balding man with a walking stick left with his hand resting on the waist of his aging partner. A younger man left alone. He was ethnic. Middle-eastern maybe. Or Indian. He looked both ways along Flinders Street, ran across the road, and disappeared from view.
For the next twelve minutes of footage, there was nothing. Cole stared at the screen, tapping his finger on the hardwood desk with impatience.
9:06pm.
Someone appeared alone at the top of the steps. He wore a suit and tie that matched the description Sharon Harvey had given. Cole stopped tapping his finger. He had found his man.
He watched as Harvey pulled his phone out, pressed the screen a few times, and then put his phone back into his pocket.
“Ordering a cab,” Cole said aloud.
He then watched with interest as Harvey crossed the street, stepping over the tramline, and dashed between the oncoming lanes of traffic heading west. The footage was dark and grainy, the visibility fading the further Harvey got from the camera. Cole could barely make out Harvey standing on the curb on the other side of the road. He squinted, his face almost pressed up against the laptop screen. Harvey waited.
9:14pm
The footage showed a car pull up beside Harvey. Brake lights came on. The car looked navy blue or black in the inferior quality image, the model difficult to identify. The licence plate was just a pixelated blur of white and black. Lachlan Harvey opened the passenger door and stepped in with casual indifference. The brake lights disappeared. The car pulled away from the curb and just like that, Lachlan Harvey was gone. Cole stared at pixelated dull nothing.
But it wasn’t nothing. It was something. It was Harvey’s last known location. That’s as good a lead as he could have hoped for. Cole stood up and looked at Nick, still hovering behind Cole, bopping his head again to the faint rhythm of the music from out the front.
“I need to take this footage, Nick. I need to take it to the precinct to see if we can clean it up. This could be a crucial asset for the investigation.”
Nick scrunched up his face again.
“Well, I suppose,” he said with a drawn-out hesitance. “What about my hard drive?”
“You’ll get your bloody hard drive back, mate. If it’s not me, then someone from the force will drop it off in the next two days.”
“Okay, cool.”
“Thanks for your help, Nick.”
“Anytime, I guess.”
Cole unplugged the hard drive from the laptop and shoved it into the pocket of his Gore-Tex jacket. He left the small, dingy office with Nick half a footstep behind him. As he did, the smell of charcoaled lamb and garlic sauce hit him. He thought about the Chinese dinner he had skipped. “While I’m here,” he said as he turned to Nick. “Any chance I can get a combination kebab with garlic sauce and chilli?”
