PART 3
Wellington by night is one of the more beautiful sights in the world. The silver lights of the office buildings nestle in a protective barrier of the surrounding hills, with orange street lamps and lit-up houses criss-crossing in an intricate pattern. The blaze of splendour sets off the brooding presence of the dark water of the harbour itself.
Logan and Frith lay entangled on the couch, looking out the french doors over the bay towards the city. The heat of passion had abated to a gentle warmth. Logan had seldom before felt so comfortable just cuddling. Her life had always been so full on, with little opportunity for the simple give and take of affection. Lust, not her less turbulent sister, had ruled her relationships in the past.
As she lay there, her thoughts turned to the work ahead of her. Jack had given her enough information to point her in the right direction. Darryl Booth had been extorting money out of Tall Trees. He had tangible evidence of something really nasty - was it the same nasty that was currently stinking up the atmosphere? Was the evidence information or an object? How did the Department of Security figure in this? Was Jack investigating or was he covering-up?
Her stomach sank as she considered that possibility. Jack and Sarah?
As if sensing her turmoil, Frith tightened her clasp around Logan's waist.
"What's up?" she mumbled.
"Me, in a few minutes," replied Logan.
"Wha' for? Can't we just stay like this forever?"
Logan smiled in the dark.
"Bad guys to catch, conspiracies to foil. That kind of thing," she said.
"So what's the plan? Frith asked. "Do you have one?"
"Unfortunately, now that Jack has buggered off, I reckon Sarah is my best bet."
Frith sat up abruptly. "You know her?" she asked.
"Oh yes... we have what you might call a history."
"Let me guess," said Frith. "Romantic."
"I used to her get information for a story. Then when I had what I wanted, I dumped her." Logan's tone was bitter. "Frith, I'm not a very nice person. And better you should know that now.... before..."
"Before what? Before I ....."
Frith broke off. Like Logan, she couldn't yet articulate what was growing between them. 'Please, don't let me fuck this one up,' she prayed, though to whom or what she addressed this plea, she did not know.
"So, do we just turn up at her house and say - 'hey, tell us everything'?" asked Frith.
"That's one possible approach. But maybe 'me', not 'we'."
"No! You can't leave me behind. Better think of another approach, buddy."
"Buddy?" asked Logan. "That wasn't what I'd call buddy-behaviour, you know. Except maybe it is in the South Island. Where were you brought up, again?"
"Nelson. And no changing the subject.
The two women extricated themselves from the muddle of sheets, clothes and cushions they had nested in and wandered down the hallway.
"The other approach is to find her in one of her leisure pursuits. Meet in a neutral kind of space."
"Like at the gym?"
Logan laughed. "No way. Sarah gets all her best exercise in less, um, salubrious settings."
"Like?"
"Like clubbing or the party circuit or her famous orgies."
Frith shot her a look.
"Okay, okay..... reputed orgies."
"So ... which clubs?"
"On Friday's she always went to Claire's on Garrett Street."
Frith walked towards the closet, dragging Logan with her.
"Then help me choose something to wear to Claire's. Tonight."
Logan made a show of reluctance. "Hold on, hold on." She glanced at the bedside clock. "It's only seven." Part of her wanted to make a pretend event as close to the real thing as possible. A first date. With Frith.
"Let's have some fun, while we're at it," she suggested. "There's nothing useful to do before talking to Sarah, so let's enjoy ourselves."
"All right," agreed Frith. "I'll make us a drink, while you pick out some clothes for me. And then you are going to have to find something to wear."
She eyed Logan up and down. "For a start, nothing I have will fit you, and secondly..." It had been bothering her from the beginning. "You must live somewhere with your own wardrobe, other than that little beach house up the Coast? Don't you? I mean, naked women holding blue jeans and t-shirt make the grade here, but perhaps not in a club."
"Really? Do you enforce the dress code rigidly?" asked Logan, as she dropped her clothes and squeezed her arms around Frith.
"Stop that! Oh, don't stop that....." Logan was kissing her throat and, pulling long blonde hair aside, worked her way along Frith's shoulder. A shiver ran through her.
"Cold?"
"Ah, no ... thanks ... toasty ... hmmmm." With an effort she pulled herself away from Logan's embrace. "How are you doing? Cold, wearing no clothes and changing the subject?"
A pause.
"I keep some clothes in my office. We could pop in there." Logan was uncomfortable with the idea of Frith in her house in Island Bay. Not yet.
Frith caught the hesitation, but decided to ignore it. 'No fucking this up, remember,' she told herself sternly.
"Right then, it's a date." She extricated herself from long arms. "A drink perhaps? Wine? Something stronger?" She wandered into the living room. The CD player had CD's scattered all over it. What to put on? Romantic schmaltz? That would just end them up back in bed ..... hmmmm .... She picked up Natalie Cole thoughtfully. Nope, not the objective this time. How about something dancy? Get them in the party mood rather than the other. She crouched down to her older CD's in the drawer beneath the player. Compilation of anonymous techno? Nah. Oh - this was it. Grace Jones. Perfect. Her older sister had left this behind, a relic of the eighties.
She put the CD in and pressed play. Nothing. She checked the volume. Still nothing.
"Bugger. What's the matter with this?" She had just gotten the player cleaned, so it was unlikely to be that. She looked at the CD. How had a data CD gotten in there? She checked the empty cover. There was Grace.
She put the correct disk in and the strains of Sly and Robbie underneath Grace's powerful tones filled the house.
By the time she had fixed the drinks - two classic G&T's - Logan was dressed again in her t-shirt and jeans and half a dozen items were laid out on the bed.
Frith laughed out loud as she saw what Logan wanted her in. All the shortest, skimpiest skirts in her wardrobe were partnered with tight tops.
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment, Logan," she said.
Logan blushed. She mumbled defensively, "Well, it gets hot in those places, you know." She took her drink and sipping it, turned away from Frith's smirk.
"Let me get ready. Why don't you ring Wiremu and see if he and Brian can join us? Might make us less conspicuous. His number's on the wall by the phone."
It was a good idea, Logan thought. 'I can leave Frith with them once I find Sarah.'
Out in the hall-way, she dialed Wiremu's number. Wiremu answered and they talked for a few minutes. Details were exchanged, arrangements made.
Frith had disappeared into the bathroom. Logan was at a loose end, so she poured another drink and let the music infiltrate her consciousness. The heavy bass notes of the title track boomed around Frith's livingroom. Logan sat on the couch, waiting while Frith showered and dressed.
A slight movement caught her eye. Frith was standing silhouetted in the doorway, the light from the hallway spilling into the darkened room. Her hair was long and loose, tinged more red than blonde in the light. The dress she was in was form fitting. Logan rose mechanically. As she moved closer to Frith, she saw the dress was tight and black, thigh length. Her breath caught, her heart-beat quickened.
Frith smiled shyly. She held up a pair of shoes and asked, "What kind of shoes?"
Logan smiled back automatically.
"I mean, are we going to be running after bad guys down dark alleys?" A pause. "C'mon Logan, talk to me."
In answer, Logan drew Frith into the living room, removed the shoes from her grasp. The music moved her into Logan's arms. Her hands settled on Frith's hips, Frith's hands slid around Logan's waist. Her head rested on the taller woman's breast. They swayed together.
A life-time later, Frith raised her head. Logan had her eyes closed, shutting out the whole world except for Frith's body.
"Logan. What's the matter?" she asked gently.
A hesitant answer came. "I don't know if I can do this again."
"Do what?" 'Oh please, let her not mean me.'
"Tall Trees. Sarah. Alan. Putting you in danger."
"Whoa right there! What are you talking about?" Frith was alarmed by Logan's demeanor. Her tone penetrated Logan's trance.
Hastily, she let Frith go and shook herself. 'Get a grip, Logan. This is what you do, remember.'
"Nothing. Forget it," she muttered. She picked up the shoes. "These look fine. Ready?"
The sudden switch in mood threw Frith for a moment.
"Oh... right... okay. Yes, I'm as ready as I can be."
In the hall closet, she picked out a warm coat as Logan shrugged her leather jacket on.
"Your car or mine?"
"Follow me to the office. We'll leave my car there and take yours."
They left the house and walked down the dark path to the road. Wellington sparkled across the bay. A full moon had risen over the hills to the east of the harbour, illuminating the hills surrounding Port Nicholson. Logan's battered yellow Mazda took off before Frith even had her seatbelt on. Hurriedly, she shoved the Suzuki into gear and, bouncing off the sidewalk, followed the distinctive tail-lights down Palliser Road towards town.
They drove through the streets of downtown Wellington as the city came alive in its ritual celebration of the end of the working week. Logan's office in the New Business Age building was at the north end of Lambton Quay. It wasn't really a quay anymore, although it had been when Wellington was founded. An earthquake in 1855 had jolted the shoreline of the port out by a hundred meters. Quays and wharves and jetties had all been left high and dry.
Frith parked in the top level of the underground carpark, while the Mazda disappeared down to a lower level. She waited until Logan jogged up the ramp.
"Come with me," she ordered. The ground-floor lobby was darkened and deserted. The other employees of the publishing concern had already headed off for the bars and clubs. Using her access card, they made their way up to the twentieth floor. Logan's office was in the prime north-east corner, overlooking Wellington Harbour and out to the Hutt Valley. She locked the door behind them.
"Make yourself at home."
Frith automatically drifted over to the large windows. Every Wellingtonian checked out the view, no matter where they were. It was the major compensating factor for being stuck with New Zealand's most notorious climate. They didn't call it the Windy City for nothing. The capital's position at the bottom of the North Island, right on the strait between it and the South Island, formed an enormous wind-tunnel effect, exacerbated by the strong ocean currents. Whatever blustery weather was going, Wellington got a double dose. At least it didn't rain as much as in Auckland. A small consolation sometimes.
Looking around the office, Frith could easily see the public face of Logan Kendrick. Journalism awards lined one wall, framed copies of some of her biggest stories lined another. The third wall had a giant map of the world and a large map of New Zealand. She wandered over to the desk and fingered some of the tiny figurines adorning the top of Logan's monitor. Hmmmm... was Virgil from Thunderbirds ogling Uhura from Star Trek? Or was Counselor Troi doing the ogling? She noticed the calendar was still set on May. Had Logan not been here for over three months?
Logan had disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. When she emerged, hair still damp from the shower, she was dressed ready for action. Of a sort.
Faded blue jeans were gone, replaced by figure-hugging black leather pants. T-shirt was gone, replaced by what Frith could only characterise as a black leather bra. A loose silk shirt was draped over one shoulder.
Frith felt her legs wobble underneath her. To save some shred of dignity, she sat down with a thump on the office chair.
"My god. You look ....." Words failed her..... 'Like you're setting out to seduce someone,' her mind helpfully supplied. 'Other than me,' it meanly continued.
But Logan was all business now.
"Ready? Good, let's go." And with that she lead the way out of her office and to the lifts. The elevator stopped twice on the way down. The first time two weary-looking men in suits got in, nodding politely to the women.
The second time, an older woman entered. Behind her, a distinguished man walked past the lift as the door closed.
As Frith squeezed out of the lift ahead of the two men, she was surprised to see Logan's face had gone dead white. Pulling her aside and waiting until the foyer was empty she asked, "What's up, Logan? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Logan placed her hand over Frith's mouth. She motioned with her head. Frith followed her gaze to the camera in the high corner. Taking her by the hand, Logan led her outside and to the visitor's carpark. Only when they were safe in Frith's car, did she feel safe enough to speak.
"Did you see that man, when the lift stopped?" she asked.
"Tall, good-looking, fifty-ish? Sure," Frith answered.
"Did you see who was with him?"
She hadn't. The lift door had closed too soon.
Logan was still white as a sheet. "I thought ... it looked like ... " She couldn't continue.
"Who, Logan? Who was it? Sarah?"
"No," she whispered. "It was Jack."
Logan had arranged with Wiremu to meet for dinner at Flipp, one of Wellington's funkiest restaurants, and only a five minute walk from Claire's. It was just before 8.30 when the Suzuki pulled into the tiny carpark beside the old building which housed the Brasserie. Climbing the marble stairs to the first floor, the women could hear Wiremu's voice clearly, wafting down the stairwell.
"No, I reserved a smoking table. What do you mean I can smoke at the bar? Oh, for christ's sake!"
Frith grinned and rolled her eyes. Logan's spirits were slowly returning to normal after the shock of seeing Jack with the Managing Editor of the New Business Age. What had he been doing there?
But now, she had a few hours to kill before heading to the nightclub to try and contact Sarah. Dinner with Frith, her boss and his boyfriend seemed relatively innocuous and a chance to regain her composure. She felt a bit rusty around people after three months of isolation.
At the top of the stairs, Wiremu was still remonstrating with the maitre de hotel. To one side stood a taller, slightly tubby man with wispy blond hair. His irritated expression changed to a good-natured smile as he saw Frith.
"Gidday, Frith," he greeted her. "Can you calm the mad little bastard down?"
"No way, Brian," she replied. "That's your delegated task. We just ignore him at work."
Wiremu turned to her, leaving the hapless maitre d' gesturing furiously to one of the waiting staff.
"And because you ignore me there, I am forced to play the drama queen in public!"
"Just the queen, if you ask me," muttered Brian.
"I most certainly did not, my friend!" exclaimed Wiremu. "Frith, you look divine. Wear that outfit the next time those wankers from the Ministry of Defence want a demo of an intranet. I do love to watch straight boys in uniform sweat. Logan, my goodness, you obviously keep in shape, don't you?"
Logan had removed her leather jacket. Looking down ruefully, she buttoned up the silk shirt to fit in with the more decorous demands of a restaurant. Frith looked regretful as delicious skin disappeared from view.
As Wiremu turned again to badger the maitre d', Logan and Brian shook hands and introduced themselves. They agreed they must have met at some journalistic function someplace sometime.
The harassed maitre d' now had a table ready for them. Fortunately for Logan's digestion, it was away from the eight foot by ten foot painting of the severed sheep's head.
Two hours later, Logan was prepared to admit that social events were more enjoyable with Frith than they had been before. Perhaps it was the low level but good-natured flirting, perhaps the queer company with intelligent and wide-ranging discussions, or maybe the occasional hand on her thigh, followed by a dazzling smile. The tension which had threatened to engulf her before had subsided to a manageable level. Logan Kendrick, big trouble, had been replaced by Logan Kendrick, potential friend. It was a pleasant change.
Wiremu had kept away from the events of earlier in the day, though several times Logan had caught a glitter in his eyes as he looked her way.
By eleven, she was starting to feel anxious about the rest of the night. She had no doubt that Sarah would be at Claire's. But Logan had no clear idea about how to approach her. Other than to duck whatever object Sarah would aim at her head. Sarah had her own ideas about the world and forgiveness was low on the list. But even with her expensive tastes, would she knowingly connive at a plot to test a biological weapon in New Zealand? Logan's gut feeling was that she wouldn't.
Twenty minutes later, the foursome were checking their coats and jackets at Claire's. Claire's was a dance floor downstairs and a jazz club upstairs. At Logan's suggestion they headed upstairs first. A trio of piano, guitar and vocalist was performing in the large, crowded room. Wiremu headed for the bar to procure some drinks. Frith and Brian sat chatting while Logan excused herself to go to the bathroom.
When Wiremu rejoined his friends, he could no longer keep away from the topic which had pre-occupied him throughout the day. Taking advantage of Logan's absence, he broached the topic with Frith.
"So, what's the deal with the bio-terrorism shit?" he asked bluntly.
"I have no idea, Willy," Frith replied, wearily. Apart from the emotional highs and lows of the day, the self-same question had nagged at her too. She knew Darryl had been blackmailing Tall Trees about something. When the html files for the Tall Trees web-site had referred to the hydroponics farm and the Texas lab, she had assumed (or had she really jumped to a conclusion?) that same something was involved.
Where was Logan?
Logan bypassed the bathrooms entirely. She briefly looked around the dance floor downstairs, but it was a little early for Sarah, so she went outside to check the carpark. On the phone earlier, she had asked Wiremu what cars were parked outside Frith's house earlier in the afternoon. From the list of cars he remembered Logan recognised a car very likely to be Jack's. A dark blue Subaru Impreza. Jack had always liked cars which looked innocuous but went like stink.
No sign of him. Logan wasn't sure why she kept expecting him to be at the club. Just as she turned to re-enter the club doors, she heard the familiar sound of Sarah laughing. A gaggle of men and women were weaving their way up Cuba Street, walking in the middle of the very narrow road. Sarah was the centre of the throng, as usual. As they neared the entrance, Sarah shushed them all and, with a giggle made an announcement.
"My darlings! As we prepare to enter the hedonistic whirl of the dance floor, there is a deeper purpose to our revels this evening."
"Getting wasted?" enquired a voice from the back.
"Nonononono. Well, yes. But other than that, this is the one month anniversary of me and my darling boy. A celebration is in order!"
"Sarah and Gareth!" they enthusiastically cried.
"There is a tab at the bar under my name. They have orders not to break out the best bubbly - "
Calls of "Shame!"
" - but other than that, please imbibe to your heart's content and raise a toast during the evening to love, sweet love."
"Oh, yes," she continued. "Remember to cab it home!"
"Yes, Camp Mother!" they chorused.
"Onwards!"
With another cheer, the crowd poured into the entranceway.
Frith was worried. Had Logan just abandoned her? As the band launched into another standard, she spotted a tall dark-haired presence in the doorway to the now crowded room.
Logan made her way over to the table with its solitary occupant.
Leaning close to Frith, she whispered, "She's here."
She looked around for the lads.
Brian and Wiremu were on the tiny dance floor. A small group of couples were braving a slower tempo number. Damn. Logan had hoped that Wiremu would take care of Frith while she talked to Sarah. He had been okay with that idea earlier on the phone.
She sighed.
"Let's go down to the dance floor."
Frith whispered back, "Do you have a plan?"
"Yes. I'm going to hide behind you when she tries to kill me."
Catching Brian's eye, she motioned that the two of them were going downstairs. Brian replied with his hand, indicating that they would be down in five.
'That'll work,' thought Logan.
Abandoning the table, the two women made their way out of the jazz club. More than one set of eyes followed them, most in appreciation. A tall man at the far end of the bar turned discreetly away and finished his drink, reaching for his cellphone.
Downstairs the jazz ambiance vanished immediately. A loud insistent beat pulsed through the doors leading from the foyer into the disco. The foyer itself was crowded - it was really a bar-cum-coat-check-cum-entrance.
In the main room, Logan decided a subtle approach might work. Let Sarah see her first, to get the shock out of the way.
Maneuvering Frith into the middle of the crush, they danced. To be fair, neither woman's mind was really on it. Logan's height allowed her to continually monitor the edges of the room, looking for where Sarah might be holding court. As they danced, she eventually became aware that Frith was something of a mover. And that others around them were also taking notice. Frith's red blonde hair, sweet figure and tight, tight dress was definitely an attention grabber. Logan might have noticed that she herself was a focus of attention, except that eyes tended to skitter away from her glare.
Frith motioned Logan closer. Pulling her head down, she softly said, "Don't glower. You're scaring the horses."
Logan grinned half-heartedly. "Just warning off any poachers," she replied.
She was a little frustrated she couldn't spot Sarah. She hadn't been able to see what Sarah had been wearing under her coat, but her hair had been blonder than usual and with wilder curls. No doubt her outfit was cut down to there - Sarah enjoyed flaunting her body. She had always appreciated spontaneous and uncontrolled reactions from both men and women alike. The tease.
The sweet smell of cannabis wafted to her senses across the crowded room. It was not unusual in public places, but Wellington police had lately been cracking down on overt drug use. There was an election coming up and every politician and their dog was busy playing the law and order card. Police had no choice but to look busy too.
The crowd was in a typical midnight frenzy, close and oppressive. Logan was jostled as a man danced past her. She felt his hand brush her back and she pushed him away.
Logan idly watched an asian man answer a cellphone. How could he hear anything over this din? Apparently it was bad news as his face stiffened in shock. His eyes twitched towards the men's room. Closing the phone, he shouted something in the ear of his companion. The other man moved swiftly towards the men's bathroom, while he pushed his way to a blonde woman dressed in red - Sarah!
Sarah looked annoyed more than shocked with whatever his news was. But she turned with him and moved as swiftly as the throng would allow towards an unobtrusive exit. Logan was now more than intrigued. Looking down to Frith, she saw that Wiremu and Brian had joined them, and the threesome were dancing like it was 1999. She eased away from them and set sail for the exit that Sarah had made for.
As she reached the exit, a skirmish at the entrance to the rest rooms
broke out. People were pouring out of the loos and pushing through the
crowd towards the main exit. Logan hesitated, half wanting to see what
was happening, half needing to catch Sarah before she disappeared into
the night. Sarah won out, and Logan slipped out the exit.
Frith turned just in time to catch sight of Logan's back vanishing into the mass of humanity. She had suspected that Logan would want to approach Sarah by herself, so she persuaded herself to patience.
The dancers around her were looking agitated. An tide swell swept them towards the main doors. But the doors burst inwards as a dozen police rushed into the large room. Chaos erupted. The music abruptly stopped and the clamour of voices rose to compensate for the sudden silence. The flashing lights of the dance floor were overwhelmed by the blue flashing lights of the police. A loud hailer cut through the racket.
THIS IS THE POLICE. EVERYBODY STAY CALM. THE BUILDING IS BEING SECURED.
STAY WHERE YOU ARE. THIS IS A RAID. YOU CAN ALL BE HELD UNDER THE PROVISIONS OF THE MIS-USE OF DRUGS ACT. SO PLEASE CO-OPERATE.
A small group at a fire exit managed to open the barred doors. This set off the automatic alarms making the din near to intolerable. Outside the fire exit more cops were waiting, these ones had batons and riot gear. Frith could not see much over the crowd (for the millionth time she cursed being 5' 4") but Brian was feeding her a running commentary. As the noise abated, he pulled out his cellphone and rang the news desk of the Dominion newspaper.
"Phil? Hi, it's Brian. I'm caught up in a bust at Claire's. No, I don't have any drugs. No, I won't do anything stupid. Check this with the boss for tomorrow's edition." He looked at his watch. "Might make the local run, perhaps the What's New column. About thirty police, three hundred people, two paddy wagons. No arrests yet as far as I can see. Nope, no celebrities. Just us hard working yuppies. Oh, and Phil? Can you tell Stephanie I might be in late tomorrow? See ya."
He turned to his two friends. "Let's just stay loose and try not to get arrested. Hopefully it will be just statements or names and addresses here, rather than down at the cop shop."
"Can you see Logan?" Frith asked.
Brian smiled patronisingly. "You two short bunnies can't see anything?" He grunted as a swift kick was delivered to his shins. "Sorry, sweetheart," he apologised to Wiremu. "You know I can't resist short jokes."
He scanned the room again. People were calming down, many reaching for cellphone to call either lawyers or spouses. No sign of a six foot tall beautiful woman.
"Nope," he reported. "Maybe she was in the ladies loos."
"I hope not," snickered Wiremu. "Those are the first place the lads in blue hit. All that powder and tablets flushed away. Ruins the fishing in the harbour for weeks."
"I think she might have taken off after Sarah," said Frith.
"Aah, well then, she'll be fine. Sarah Harris has an instinct for self-preservation
like no-one else." He took Brian's hand and held it tight. "Let's just
get through this with the minimum of fuss. We'll find her afterwards, back
at your place no doubt."
Logan found herself in the alley behind Claire's. From her right, she heard the sounds of approaching sirens. To her left was the entrance to Glover Park, a hangout for local street kids and winos. She could see Sarah and her companion scurrying towards the park. Closing the door behind her, Logan jogged after them.
The park was secluded, surrounded by tall buildings, with a few dozen or so trees throwing deep shadows. Only one street really touched it - Ghuznee Street which was an exit from the motorway. Once in the park, Logan could not immediately see Sarah. She started towards the lights of the distant traffic. Walking quickly, she was aware that the park was inhabited, not empty as it initially seemed. She could sense eyes following her from the shadows. Now deep in the darkest part, she heard a short stifled scream.
Spinning around, she tried to identify which direction the shout had come from. A cry came again. This time, Logan could hear the plea for help.
"Leave him alone, you bastard. Help! Someone help!"
She ran towards the noise. There, struggling with an assailant, was Sarah. On the ground was a huddled, still body.
Coming from behind, Logan grabbed the attacker by the arms and just tore him away from the woman. He staggered a few steps, before looking at the new danger. For a moment it seemed he might renew the assault. But Logan stepped towards him, raising her fists threateningly. Somehow the confident attitude, coupled with her height, persuaded him that this was a lost cause. The shadowy figure turned and fled.
When she twisted to where Sarah was, the woman was kneeling beside the prone figure. She was crying, calling his name.
"Gareth! Gareth! Can you hear me? Are you all right? Speak to me!"
Logan crouched beside her.
"Sarah, it's all right. He's gone."
The woman started. "Logan! Oh my god! Help me. He's ......"
"Let me look," said Logan. She moved Sarah out of the way and knelt close to Gareth. She checked his pulse. It was strong and fast.
"It's okay, he's alive. What happened?"
"They ... he... on the head...." Sarah was near hysteria. Logan put her arm gingerly around her.
"C'mon, c'mon, shush now, calm down...." As she soothed the agitated woman, she gradually became aware of a group of indistinct figures confronting them. The shadow had returned, with help.
With a snarl, the leader flung himself at Logan. In seconds the others had joined in. Logan staggered away from Gareth and Sarah, trying to move the fight away from the prone man.
Fists and kicks flew furiously. Logan felt rather than saw her punches and kicks land. In reality, their greater numbers were little advantage as they got in each others way. A few blows landed on her, mostly ineffectual. One enterprising bastard had a stripped branch which was being twirled like a club. At last he got a strike in, striking Logan on the arm and head as she partially deflected the blow. She dropped to one knee, attempting to clear the stars from her eyes. A kick came at her head , but she grabbed the foot and yanked her assailant over. Gritting her teeth, she went all out on offense. Her eyes had fully adjusted to the gloom by now and she nailed the thug who had the club with an elbow to the throat. He collapsed.
A kick to the groin disposed of the next one. She was aware of figures shuffling off as she threw herself at the last man. He failed completely to get out of way and took the full force of her body in a tackle. Almost casually, she kicked him in the head as she clambered up.
All that was left now was the sound of her heavy breathing and Sarah's sobs. In the distance, the sound of the raid in progress filtered through the other city sounds.
Right. Gareth next.
Returning to Sarah's side, Logan once again knelt by the injured man. Using a technique she had learnt from the Waikanae Volunteer Fire Brigade, she hoisted his body on to her shoulder.
"Right. Where to?" she asked. "Your place?"
Five months ago Sarah had lived in the apartments in Atlas House, further down Ghuznee Street. The building had once housed parts of both the National Library and the National Archives, but now like so many inner city buildings, had been converted into twenty or so swanky apartments.
Sarah could only nod yes.
Logan took a deep breath and started off. In minutes they were turning right on to Ghuznee Street. Although it was now closer to one in the morning, there was still a reasonable amount of traffic. Her muscles began to protest. She couldn't do this much longer. Cars slowed down as they passed, drivers rubbernecking at the sight of a person being carried along. One car that didn't slow down, but which caught Logan's eye, was a dark Subaru Impreza.
At the entrance to Atlas House, Sarah keyed in her security code. They had covered the one hundred and fifty or so meters in silence. Now, in the safety of her own building, she finally spoke. "Are you doing okay?"
Logan was breathing heavily. "Just get us up to your place," she panted. "Then we'll talk. Christ! I'm glad he's a little fellow...."
Once inside her apartment, Logan carried Gareth into Sarah's bedroom. It appeared unchanged from her brief tenure as Sarah's lover.
As gently as she could, she dumped him on the bed.
"Get a cold flannel, some water and a bowl or bucket," she told Sarah. As the other woman trotted off, Logan stretched out her much abused muscles. She would pay for that effort.
Flicking on the bedside light, she examined Sarah's new lover. He had dark hair with the blue sheen, but otherwise was ordinary looking. She loosened his shirt collar and smoothed his hair back off his face. There, above his left eye, was a nasty graze and lump. She checked his pupils. They appeared normal.
Sarah returned with the face cloth and the water.
"Is he all right?" she asked. Her voice was strained.
"He has a bit of a bang," Logan indicated where. She took the cloth and cleaned around the lump.
Leaning close, she spoke clearly. "Gareth. Gareth! Can you hear me?"
He stirred.
"C'mon Gareth. Open those eyes for me."
His eyes fluttered open. "Sarah?"
"I'm right here, love." Sarah sat on the bed, holding his hand to her lips.
"Are you ....?"
"Yes, I'm okay."
"What day is it, Gareth?" Logan asked.
"Friday - no Saturday now."
"What's your name?"
"Gareth Wong."
"Where do you live, Gareth?"
"24b Matai Road."
"And - forgive me for this - who's Prime Minister?"
"Is Jenny Shipley a good or bad answer?"
"Very good - a joke even."
His eyes flickered from Sarah to Logan and back. He was about to speak again, when his face screwed up. Sarah held him as he threw up into the bowl.
"Should I call a doctor?" she asked Logan.
She shrugged her shoulders. "He should be okay. He's probably concussed. Maybe take it easy for a few days. Do you want me to call an ambulance?"
"No, I don't think so," she replied. " It's never good for a senior barrister to turn up at the Accident and Emergency."
Gareth finished with the bowl. He lay back down, closing his eyes, as Sarah removed it.
Logan followed Sarah into the kitchen.
"How are you doing?" she asked.
"Fine," she said. "It was lucky for us you happened along."
"Ah," said Logan. "Maybe lucky is not the right word. I followed you from the club."
"So you knew about the raid?"
"Not exactly. I was trying to find you. I saw Gareth take the call."
"Gareth is a Crown Prosecutor. One of his cop friends tipped him off about the raid."
Logan considered this. "It was cutting it a bit fine, wasn't it? Usually those things are planned hours in advance."
"I guess so." Sarah wasn't particularly interested. "Why were you looking for me? I'm guessing it wasn't to apologise."
"That wasn't the only reason," Logan agreed.
Sarah pretended surprise. "But it was ONE of the reasons. My, I'm flattered."
Logan gritted her teeth. 'Face it, Kendrick, you deserve this.'
Seeing the pained look on Logan's face, Sarah relented. "I'm sorry, Logan. I'm just still a little shaken. What do you want?"
Logan searched for a way to start. Sarah moved through to the living room. "Let me just check on Gareth. Make yourself comfortable."
The dark woman walked over to the window. Atlas House looked south over what passed for Wellington's red light district. Over to her right, she could see the blue flashing lights outside Claire's. Briefly she wondered whether Frith was all right. She missed her gentle presence already.
"Fancy a drink?" Sarah asked, interrupting her reverie.
"Sure. Whatever you've got."
Sarah poured a couple of brandies and they sat on the couch.
"Now, talk."
Logan couldn't think of any subtle way to start, so she just launched right in.
"I'm taking a risk coming to you. Frankly, I don't know how deeply involved you are, but if you are, then I am making a big, big mistake. But ..." she looked Sarah in the eye. "But I didn't give you or us a chance before. I treated you badly and I'm sorry."
Sarah's eyes filled. "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that. I ... trusted you. I had always believed in my ability to judge people, but you fooled me."
Logan went on. "After you tossed me out, I .... I had a very bad experience. Three months ago. Another story went wrong. I was .... nearly killed."
"That World Charities thing?" asked Sarah.
"Yes," replied Logan tersely. She looked away for a while before she could continue. "I have been doing some serious thinking about my life since then. I'm not sure if I can go back to how I was, to the work I did. But you were one of the things I regretted most."
She started at the touch of a hand on her arm. They sat like that for a few moments, before Sarah drew her into a hug.
Logan inhaled her scent deeply. She had always found the physical presence of this woman mesmerising. Memories of their vibrant sexual relationship flooded her mind. Pulling her head back a little, she looked Sarah directly in the eyes. As Sarah smiled, she closed her eyes and Logan eased forward and kissed her. The kiss deepened. She tried to convey her inchoate feelings. As the kiss lingered, the two woman reconnected.
The recent events with Frith had made Logan more sensitive. Physically sensitive. Sensually sensitive. She felt again the gut pull of sexual attraction to Sarah that had been present right from the start. From Sarah's responsiveness, she was feeling it too.
Sarah drew back, her breathing a little laboured.
"Oooh yes," she said. "The sex was always good."
She laughed. "If only we had met somewhere else, some when else. I know, I know.... I threw myself at you. Even when I thought you were on the catering staff, I fancied you. Maybe it was the uniform."
The two women pulled slightly apart, Sarah's hand still curled around Logan's arm.
Logan smiled too. "And now it's Gareth?"
"Yes. He's rather a sweetie. And I think the world of him."
"Your one month anniversary? Sounds serious."
"You heard that? Yes, I think it might be." She stood up and poured herself another drink. Logan shook her head at the offer.
"So. What is this big mistake you might be making with me?"
This was crunch time. Logan had little more than her feelings to rely on. No evidence. No corroboration. No gossip. No data. Just a guess. It all came down to this.
"I think Tall Trees is attempting to covertly smuggle biological organisms into New Zealand. The purpose is to test a new hybrid organism in local conditions and on a local population, with the end goal of introducing it to the United States. I am not sure exactly what the effect of the organism is - it could be a vector for a human disease, or it could be a threat to an agricultural crop. Either way, someone in the Department of Security is facilitating the entry of this material."
During her tale, Logan had keenly watched Sarah's face.
"And you think that .... I guess you don't think I'm involved then? That's the risk, huh?" Sarah asked.
"Yes." She waited.
"Is there more?"
"Yes."
"But you're not sure you can trust me?"
Silence.
"Is Alan involved?"
"Why do you say that?" asked Logan.
"He's been having meetings recently, excluding me. He's had a guy coming to see him, John Fraser, an Australian I think."
Logan stiffened. John Fraser was a name that Jack McKechnie had used in the past.
Sarah continued. "And he's been jumpy." She considered Logan's story for a moment. "What evidence do you have?"
"What was the security lock-down that you organised down at Solaris Consulting today?"
"Solaris? Oh! The delightful Ms Buchanan and her little boss, Willy Kale. That was Alan's doing. He was on the phone to Head Office this morning and they announced a complete company wide lock-down. Something about testing security protocols in the system administration. Didn't make much sense to me, but then Head Office can be like that."
"Do you know anything about the Tricomi Laboratories in Texas?"
"No, can't say as I have."
"What about Kapiti Horticultural?"
"Nope. Anything else?"
Logan was silent. She had a story, but no proof. One last throw of the dice.
"I'm looking for something that was in Darryl Booth's possession. You know, the ex-director of Greenpeace."
"Darryl? That loser? What on earth could he have to do with it? He's been in the loony farm for over a year, hasn't he?"
"Did you know he had been blackmailing someone at TTL?"
"No. Good lord, was he? And you knew? Were you investigating him?"
"Yes, but we thought it was kick-backs to hold off a Greenpeace campaign. When we got a bit too close, he flipped. And has stayed flipped."
Logan sighed.
"So, you can't help me, then."
"Doesn't sound like it, darling. But you said you had been in trouble - the World Charities scandal?"
Logan went rigid. It suddenly seemed to Sarah that her hand on Logan's arm was holding a block of wood.
"Logan? Are you all right?"
Suddenly Logan was trembling violently. Tears sprang to her eyes and she could not remain seated on the couch.
Jumping up, she stammered, "I gotta .... "
Sarah stood up and went to touch her, but Logan shrugged her off. Striding to the apartment door, she flung it open and disappeared into the hallway. Sarah rushed after her, but only in time to see the dark woman vanish through the stairwell door.
She called after her. "Logan! Thank you for ...." But it was too late.
Her rescuer was gone.
Frith, Wiremu and Brian were well and truly, thoroughly and with no mistake, bored. The police had been unfailingly polite. Several patrons had been carted off in the paddy wagon, mostly people scoring in the restrooms, Frith assumed. But an hour at least passed before the three friends found themselves outside Claire's. It had been names and addresses. Frith got the odd feeling they were perfunctory rather than urgent.
About twenty people were milling outside in Cuba Street. Frith looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of her lover. It was now about two and Frith was fading. The long, intense day was catching up to her and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home in her bed. Alone? Perhaps she did need a bit of space to think about what was happening in her life.
They walked along Cuba Street to Ghuznee Street, turning left towards the Flipp carpark, where her car was parked. Once there, Brian and Wiremu bid her goodnight.
"Ring me tomorrow," urged Wiremu. "Not too early mind. We're out for brunch at a G.A.P. function at about eleven, so the gossip will be as good as the machiato."
Wiremu was a stalwart of the local Gay Association of Professionals and their dedication to coffee and chat was legendary. Frith knew that several pieces of work had come to Solaris from his contacts there.
"Sure thing," Frith replied. "Otherwise I'll see you Monday."
"Just come in for the staff meeting if you like. Maybe there'll be some more work for you." He stopped awkwardly, not wanting to ask again about the Tall Trees work.
She patted him on the arm and gave them both quick kisses goodnight.
Once in the little Suzuki, she drove along Oriental Parade towards the road which would take her up the hill to Roseneath. As she passed the Freyberg Pools, perched between the Parade and the water, she stood on the brakes, bringing the 4-wheel-drive to a sudden, juddering stop. There, seated on a bench under a lamp, looking out over the water, was Logan. The dark-haired woman had her head in her hands and her feet propped up on the low seawall in front of her.
Frith left her car double-parked - there was not much traffic around at this time of the morning. She walked towards the bench and, not wanting to startle Logan, she said quietly, "Hey there!"
Logan turned slowly. The look on her face was enough to wring Frith's heart. It spoke of despair and pain. She stood beside her and put her arms around Logan's shoulders. With a soft kiss to her forehead she asked, "Want to talk about it?"
"No," came the brief answer. But Logan seemed to accept the hug and the caress, so Frith felt emboldened.
"Well, at least come home with me, before .... " Before what? 'Before disappearing out of my life, before leaving me alone again?' Frith was apprehensive about what she actually wanted from Logan. She focused herself firmly on the here and now.
Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed Logan's hand. "C'mon. Ups-a-daisy."
Logan offered no physical resistance. Once in the car, Frith finally asked, "So ... did you find Sarah?"
"Yes," came another brief answer. Frith waited again. She sighed silently. This was like pulling teeth. But Logan was staring out the window at the city lights which came into view as Frith navigated the twisting turning roads up to her house. She stole a couple of glances at her passenger, but the driving demanded most of her attention. She pulled into her carpark on its wooden platform. Parking in Wellington was so scarce that in the hilly suburbs like Roseneath, little platforms with enough room for two or three cars were commonly built, jutting out over steep bush-clad drops.
To her relief she didn't need to urge Logan out of the car, but the tall woman lagged behind her up the path. As they came into view of the house, Frith stopped dead. Logan blindly bumped into her.
In a strange voice, Frith asked, "Uh... Logan ..... you didn't leave those lights on, did you?" Logan finally raised her head. Every light in the house was blazing brightly.
With an oath, she moved in front of Frith, placing herself between the short woman and any possible threat.
She turned her head slightly, speaking so that only Frith would be able to hear her.
"Go back to the car."
"No."
"What do you mean, no?" Logan couldn't believe her ears.
"I mean, whatever's going on here is as much my business as yours. I'll stick close to you. I won't get in your way, I promise."
Logan turned more fully, about to remonstrate with this foolhardy idea, when the lights suddenly went out. The two women froze. Breathing was suspended. Logan debated briefly the sense of a stealthy approach. They had probably been heard and Frith would more easily tag-along. All guns blazing it was.
Whirling, she broke away from Frith's grasping hands and ran up the steps. With one kick, the front door was open. Immediately inside, she remembered, the fuse box was high on the wall. Reaching up, she found, as she had suspected, that the mains switch had been turned off.
She flipped the power back on. All the lights came on, instantly. Behind her came a crash. She spun around.
"Frith! Frith! Are you all right?"
There was no reply. Stepping back on to the front porch, the outside lights had come on, but there was no sign of Frith. Had she gone back to the car? Unlikely. Logan growled in frustration. A noise from the rear of the house caught her attention. It was the sound of the back-door being shut. She turned again and raced down the hall, through the kitchen and into the back porch. Sure enough, the back door was unlocked. As she went to open it, the door swung forcefully at her. She stumbled backwards but not quickly enough to avoid its arc. She crashed back into the kitchen, landing with a thud on the floor.
She heard the sound of a person running along the back path. Springing to her feet, she dashed out the back door, in time to see a shadowy figure disappearing up to the back of the section, into the trees. Without hesitation she ran after him.
She could more easily hear the intruder than see him. Crashing through the trees and brush, he ran into a neighbour's section and then veered uphill, towards the town-belt. Wellington's town-belt was a girdle of mature trees, five hundred to a thousand meters wide, which surrounded the inner city. It went for perhaps fifteen kilometers from Roseneath in the east, via Mt Cook and Brooklyn in the south, to Kelburn, Tinakori Hill and Khandallah in the west. In some places, houses had infiltrated its edges.
The belt of trees, mostly imported pines, cedars and cypresses, was criss-crossed by dozens of paths. If the intruder made it there, he could easily disappear. No doubt he had parked somewhere in a street near the town-belt and had walked to Frith's house.
She increased her pace, trying to catch him. The man, or woman she supposed, was finding the running uphill tough going. Both of them stumbled occasionally, but Logan thought she was gaining. Within a minute, they were on one of the town-belt paths, the Southern Walkway. Like all the town-belt it was unpaved and unlit. The dirt track was covered with pine needles and twigs, but it was flat and traversed the slope. Her quarry was now able to sprint, but Logan was hard on his heels. The path sloped downwards and the pace increased. Abruptly, the path forked. He chose the down fork, but Logan chose the upper one. She knew that the path soon rejoined and that she might have a brief advantage - if he stayed on the path at all. It was a calculated risk.
She was right. He slowed slightly, wondering perhaps where she had gone. Obviously he didn't know the Walkway very well. She was now nearly level with him and about ten feet above him. With a shout, she leaped on him from behind, tackling him to the ground. They rolled together over the edge of the track, down a steep slope of about another ten feet and crashed violently into a large monterey cypress.
Logan lay stunned and breathless against the tree. Struggling to regain her wind, she saw the man get up and stagger off. Reaching for anything, she picked up a small branch and hurled it at his halting figure. She struggled to her feet, but her legs buckled under her. By the time she had levered herself upright, he had clambered over a fence leading to a road. As she went to give chase, she heard a high-performance car squeal around a corner and into the street. As she reached the fence, she was in time to see a tall man get into the passenger side of a dark Subaru, illuminated by a solitary street lamp. Even before he was completely in, the car was thrown into reverse, back the way it had come. Logan strained, but could not make out the driver or his passenger. At the corner, the car spun and powered away, out of sight.
She had lost him.
Breathing heavily, Logan turned and scrambled up to the path. Limping
slightly, she ran back along the walkway. Frith! What had happened to Frith?
Frith watched Logan disappear into the house. As the lights came back on, a noise around the side of the house drew her attention. Cautiously walking around the corner, Frith endeavoured to pierce the gloom. Nothing, as far as she could make out. A louder noise, almost a crash, down the path made her jump. Suddenly frightened, she shrank against the weatherboards. A tall figure appeared.
"Logan?" she whispered.
Instead of answering, the figure lunged at her, taking her by surprise. A large hand covered her mouth before she could make a sound, long arms pinning her arms to her side and lifting her bodily off the ground. She struggled and lashed out with her legs, connecting violently with the legs of her assailant, causing grunts of pain to erupt from his mouth. But Frith was unable to break free. As she continued to squirm, he smacked her heavily in the temple and she subsided.
The powerful man carried Frith down the path, towards the road. At the bottom of the path he paused, checking for pedestrians or cars. At this point the road was barely wide enough for two cars to pass, and with the parked cars along one side, barely wide enough for one. Across the road and downhill about twenty meters was Frith's car and those of her neighbours, on the platform. He hesitated further. Was he waiting for someone?
The waiting continued. He paced, still holding the now limp woman. Frith was also waiting, waiting for an opportunity to break free. Several times it seemed he was about to stride down the street, but it was obvious to Frith that this was a rendezvous point. Eventually the sound of a high revving car speeding up Palliser Road could be heard. Her abductor seemed to relax, as if this was what he was expecting. But then he tensed again, as a woman's voice came floating down from the house.
"Frith! Frith! Where are you? Frith!"
The voice came closer. So was the car.
This was it. Frith struggled again. This time she managed to get an arm free. Poking her fingers in his eyes, he shouted with surprise and pain. Clutching at his face with both hands, he dropped Frith on the pavement with a thud. Clambering to her feet, she darted on to the platform, putting her Suzuki between the man and herself. She could now see him clearly. He was tall, solidly built, dressed in plain black track clothing. A fairly nondescript face, distorted by pain and irritation.
As he advanced around one side of the Samurai, Frith inched the other way. The car finally arrived and screeched to a halt, blocking Frith's escape from the parking space. At the same moment, Logan appeared down the path, limping and bleeding. Time slowed. The man advanced again on Frith. She backed away, hands in front of her to ward off the assault.
She caught sight of Logan across the road. The man caught her change of focus and turned to see what she was staring at. He saw the tall woman stumbling towards him with murder in her eyes. He whirled and made one last attempt to grab Frith. With only one way to go, Frith went it. She turned and jumped off the edge of the platform into space.
He cried out in anger and frustration, thwarted. As Logan started across
the road towards the car, he dived headfirst into the open back door. The
car rocketed away in a cloud of burning rubber, leaving Logan collapsed
on her knees in shock.