Directive RIP

  *

  Furn ran balanced and poised with his fast emptying Glott. He so far had not missed. He was sure of it. The Special Operations Group live round shooting range just outside of Melbourne was his favourite perk in the Rogue Intercept Police, as he had the highest security level clearance, which meant he had twenty four hour security clearance and could go through the course unsupervised and with the weapons unregistered. It was simply taken on faith that all was legal and above board. Guest too could be admitted unregistered, though he had never put that to the test, having always come alone except for a couple of times when he had practised interior entries with Breeze.

  Today he was keeping to Dash Alley, which was easily his favourite course at the facility, and useful, as its myriad of state of the art senses could report on the speed of his reflexes, eye movement and target identification and rate his “survivability” against all other comers to the test. He had spent the past year in the top ten percent, which he supposed was survivable enough – he would let fate take care of the rest.

  He reached the end of the course and while regaining his breath made his weapon safe. It had handled well, but for the life of him, he could not recall how he had come to be in possession of it. It had been lying around the bottom of a cupboard for at least a year and definitely wasn’t departmental issue. Furn tucked the magazine into his breast pocket and walked back to Course Control at the beginning of Dash Alley. Sergeant Howard, the Duty Officer, was at his post behind the counter, busily preparing his performance report.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Howard. ‘Who’s the girl tonight?’

  Furn smirked. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’ve done my own unofficial monitoring of your performances over the years and have noticed that your best results are always in the early evenings when you come with decent threads and aftershave. So that’s it, isn’t it? You come here to get your eye in for the big date to come. Tell me I’m wrong.’ He leaned forward on the counter, accentuating his rounded shoulders and scratched his neck like it were an addicts withdrawal symptom. Furn had heard that this man had been one of the best shots in the whole army until his nervous tics had finally got in the way of his aim.

  Furn took a bag of personal effects from the counter and checked his phone. There was a message from Nashy: “She’s married.” Furn dumped the phone into the nearest pocket and glanced up at Howard. ‘What time are you done here? We’ll go have a beer.’

  Howard frowned and thrust the printout of his performance at him. ‘Get the hell out of here. You’re going to celebrate these numbers properly.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘It means not with me.’

  Furn did not stick around to argue: he walked out into car park with his best set of numbers in his pockets and his guard completely down. It was dark and he did not see the two men approach from behind.

  ‘Furn, you have an appointment.’

  The accent was Middle Eastern, perhaps Iranian. The man was big and strong and moved with a confident swagger that was a window to a violent disposition. Furn stood his ground and waited for the two men to get close. He thought it ironic that leaving the shooting range was the only time his gun was unloaded. He had come here to sharpen his skills and yet had come out of it at his most defenseless. Perhaps, he could flash his impressive score sheet at them.

  The two men stopped and spread themselves out and Furn knew they had more than paperclips to reach for. He still couldn’t help not liking them.

  ‘Appointment with who?’ he spat in an irritated tone.

  The two men grinned the sort of smiles that seemed to say “we have killed plenty of times before and would find it no inconvenience doing it again right now.’

  ‘In your car, you will find out,’ said one of man. ‘But Colonel Skidmore wanted us to introduce ourselves as well, just so you will who you are dealing with.’

  ‘Well, introduce away. Who the hell are you?’

  After some more snickering and staring, the two turned and walked away, the darkness of the car park only too happy to swallow them. Hope did not linger beyond that, concerned with what might have been in store for him at his car: acquaintances of men such as these were unlikely to be anything more delicate than a cobra or a stick of dynamite. What had happened to the Hyun gang at the train level crossing was starting to make a bit more sense. Riley had obviously put the RIP into bed with some particularly ruthless people – he just hoped he knew what he was doing.

  Furn had parked in a corner illuminated by a street lamp, enabling him to see that the front passenger door was open and a pair of legs was protruding out from the car onto the bitumen. His primeval lobe registered immediately that the legs were female and attractive. The rest of the woman was concealed by the darkness within, but her voice came proximate and clear.

  ‘My apologies,’ she said. ‘I was going to wait outside the car, but the seats looked so inviting I decided to pry open a door.’ She slid out to the edge of the seat to get a better look at him. Her eyes were steady and sure. Her hair was black with blonde tips and was shoulder length. She was wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. She was clearly very fit. And in her voice there had been a suggestion of a sense of humour - not much like her companions at all.

  ‘You work with those two?’ Furn murmured.

  ‘What can I tell you? I didn’t stick around long enough at school.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘DC.’

  ‘As in the city?’

  ‘I’m not in the mood.’ She swung back into the car. ‘The engine under the hood may not be much compared to your partner’s American muscle, but it will do.’

  ‘Do for what?’

  ‘To take me home. It’s been a long day.’

  Furn stood his ground. ‘Where’s home?’

  ‘It’s already plugged into your GPS. Whilst you’re driving, you can get to know your new boss.’

  ‘My new boss?’ Furn could not help but smirk. ‘So tell me, am I going to like my new boss?’

  DC took the question seriously. ‘He pushes people around. The way he is pushing you around right now, he does to everyone, including some of the finest scientific minds in the country, and in that way he is on track to change the world.’

  Furn’s look hardened. ‘I’ve already been working for him, haven’t I?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  Furn marched around to the driver’s seat and got into the car. ‘You better put on your seatbelt.’ He drove fast, tearing along the Calder Highway back towards Melbourne. He wasn’t going to say another word. DC enjoyed the way he effortlessly worked through the traffic, turning it inside out, findingthegaps where there were none to be had; she, however, eventually grew tired of his silence and reacted by dialing a number on the car phone and putting it onto speaker.

  The dial tone was replaced by a hard, toneless voice. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Furn is here, sir,’ DC replied.

  ‘Good. And what is your impression so far?’

  ‘He seems to know who you are.’

  There was a pause before the voice came again. ‘Good evening, Sergeant Maroon. I am Colonel Skidmore of Military Intelligence. I believe we have almost met on previous occasions. I would be interested to hear what you think about me.’

  Furn frowned. ‘You are best known in the RIP for your Mosquito tagging ring. It has been quite helpful in our routine tracking of rogue elements.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it. What else?’

  ‘It seems you have been having some trouble managing your scientists recently, and the RIP have been giving you a hand with that.’

  There was another long silence. ‘That incident is not yet over. So, you had better know some more about me.’

  Furn eased his foot slightly off the accelerator. ‘Alright, I’m no longer breaking the speed limit. You’ve got my attention.’

  ‘I am currently engaged in a project named Green Fields, which entails
developing new fertilisers that we envisage will be the most powerful the world has ever seen. Food production could be improved to the point that millions of lives are saved all over the world every year and for generations to come. Thus, the stakes could scarcely be higher. But it is dangerous work. You see, our focus is on nature’s most lethal elements. We believe that in the DNA of death there is an antidote to be found: a genesis of life. And from this we will cultivate super bacteria. One that will infest the most barren of soils and make it rich and fertile. The technology we must discover, however, could be used as a platform in biological warfare. A contagion could be made unstoppable. That is why even the Americans will not embark on this area of research. We have gone ahead with the proviso that security is of paramount importance. We are operating out of a remote top secret facility and we are careful with the staff we hire. Only the most committed make it past our screening. And once they are with us...well, the bonds of family are inseparable aren’t they?

  ‘Sure,’ said Furn, starting to get worried.

  ‘You are becoming family too. You did a great job tracking down our PONI. An ugly business to be sure. We have to go through such moments for the greater good. You have shown the capacity where others may not be so strong footed.’

  ‘Others?’

  ‘Zulma Pei was leading the screening and monitoring our team. A behavioral expert. She was innovative and unorthodox and the results were of a high order. A team on the verge of greatness. Unfortunately, however, a person of a certain nature can be consumed by themselves. That is what has happened to Zulma. She has turned rogue.’

  Furn was unsettled by the talk of Pei. He had neglected to follow up on her flight to Java - hadn’t been near a TV or a radio to tune into the news and Riley hadn’t been in touch to fill in the blanks.

  ‘Where is she now? he murmured sheepishly

  ‘Whereabouts unknown. She was heading to Java aboard a light plane and according to a tip-off, there was a considerable cargo of illicit drugs on board. No such flight path was made, however.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘There was an unregistered flight detected on radio by both the Indonesian and Australian Air forces around the time the tip-off predicted, but the plane veered off towards Borneo where it somewhat skillfully dropped below radar. So, if we want to find out what Pei’s been up to, we’ll have to go ask her ourselves.’

  ‘Is that what you have in mind for me?’

  ‘Not exactly. I have a team ready to go to Borneo. They are familiar with the local conditions and are a good chance of taking her there on foreign soil, which would suit me just fine. There is, however, always the chance she will make it back to Australia. I would like to hold you and Cantrell back for that possibility.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Me,’ snapped DC.

  ‘I want you two working together in the meantime,’ continued Skidmore. ‘It will give you a chance to familiarise. Your Rogue Intercept Unit will serve that purpose well enough. She may find your tagging duties interesting. But that doesn’t mean you have my permission to teach Cantrell any of your bad habits or corrupt ways endemic to every police force I have come across. She is a security officer with a lot of potential and I would not like to see her future in any way impaired.’

  Furn looked across to DC to see that she was scarcely paying attention, idly gazing out the window while smoking a marijuana joint. He smirked and replied pointedly, ‘Futures have a way of doing that all by themselves.’

  DC blew smoke at him from the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Your own career could be a blistering example of that,’ snapped Skidmore. ‘It would be a shame because I’m happy with your work so far. I will contact your superiors to confirm the arrangement. Any further contact will come through my people on the ground. Which means, if they speak, it’s my voice I want you hearing. Especially when it’s Sergeant Cantrell.’

  Furn frowned. ‘That won’t be easy. She’s not what I imagine you look like.’

  The call was promptly ended.

  DC smirked. ‘You want to know what he looks like, well, I’m not too sure you’d want to know what he’s looking like right now. It serves him right talking to people he can’t court martial.’

  ‘Can he court martial you?

  DC blew out some smoke. ‘I doubt it. I’m the only member of his team Dr Zelma Pei hasn’t been mind-screwing with. That’s why he has assigned me to this. Your involvement is harder to figure out. I suppose, if something goes wrong, he will be able to pin it on you with ease. Your name has been dragged through the mud once or twice by the media, so the tracks are clearly laid.’

  Furn shrugged. ‘The motivation doesn’t have to be pure for someone as rogue as Zulma Pei. And besides, that is what attracts cases to the RIP in the first place.’

  ‘What does?’

  ‘The chance of off-loading blame.’

  DC inspected at her joint dourly. ‘This is what gave Skidmore the leverage to put me in with you.’ She took in a long draft, held it a moment and exhaled luxuriously. ‘And this is also the reason I didn’t care one way or the other.’ She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door window.

  Furn pulled out the Glott, which was sticking his thigh and said with a glint of cruelty. ‘This is my reason.’

  ‘And now we’re partners.’