Just Business (27 page)

Someone must have called an ambulance. Niamh sat on the kerb. All she could see were feet; her head hurt too much to lift it to see the faces. A paramedic was down at her level, squeezing her nose to stop the bleeding. It hurt like hell. He was shining a light in her eyes to see if she had any concussion.

‘What's your name?'

‘Niamh.'

‘Date of birth?'

‘February 22, 1975.'

‘Can you remember what happened?'

‘Yes, that guy was trying to kill me,' she said, painfully lifting her head to point to the heavyset man. His pale face was covered with blood; she wasn't sure if it was hers or his.

‘What's your home address?'

She had no sooner said when he asked her to count to ten.

‘Why?'

‘I'm just trying to determine if you're concussed at all.'

Niamh counted, feeling foolish.

‘What's happened here?' A female police officer had appeared, and crouched to Niamh's level. Niamh hadn't noticed the police arriving.

‘That guy tried to kill me,' Niamh repeated, wishing the paramedic and officer would just ask questions once.

‘I think he was just trying to get your purse,' the officer said with a kindly smile.

‘No – I offered to give him my money but he still came after me with the knife,' Niamh said, pointing to the knife that was still in the gully.

‘She's right – he was trying to kill her.' Willem had joined the group by the kerb. His voice was soft and there was a sudden quiet so he could be heard.

‘And who are you?' asked the officer.

‘My name is Willem Boelhoers. I was expecting this would happen and I have been keeping close to Niamh over the last few days.' He turned to look at Niamh. ‘I followed you from home this morning. Just like you, I got booked for driving in the bus lane. But I was also caught speeding and my licence was suspended on the spot. My car was towed and I had to get a taxi to work. It was good luck that the driver pulled into the alley while I paid the fare.'

Realisation dawned on Niamh. This was what Willem had been talking about that night outside her house. He had been saying that someone wanted to hurt her and he had been absolutely right.

The officer also gave the academic-looking man her full attention; it was clear that he knew about a more sinister motive behind the seemingly standard mugging.

Now that he had a more receptive audience, Willem continued to speak in his accented English. ‘Officer, I'm sure you will
find that this man was paid to attack Niamh and seriously hurt, if not kill, her.'

It was a heavy allegation and the accused bucked against the restraining arms of the male police officer. Niamh and Willem were filling in the missing jigsaw pieces.

‘Lucinda?' Niamh asked, trying to ignore the pressure of the paramedic's fingers on her nose. ‘Was it Lucinda you heard through the airconditioning ducts?'

‘Yes.' Willem nodded.

‘Do you know why she would do this to me?'

‘Because you know too much – of what I'm not sure.'

‘Can I stand up?' Niamh asked the paramedic, it was too hard to think sitting at street level. She stood up, her fingers taking over from his to cull the flow of blood. ‘Willem, what else did you hear the voices say?'

‘They talked about the number of sites … there should have been ten but they stopped at seven. It seems they were doing an installation of some sort at each site but sometimes the voices were very faint and I wasn't able to fill in all the gaps.'

‘I wouldn't mind someone taking the time to fill in some gaps with me,' the frustrated female officer cut in. She turned to Niamh. ‘You'd better go with the paramedic here and get your nose seen to. Can you give me your number so I can talk with you later today?'

Niamh still had her purse in her free hand and she gave it to the officer. ‘You should be able to find my business card in there.'

‘I'll come with you to the hospital,' Willem said, putting a protective palm under her elbow.

‘No, I'll be fine. You stay with the officer.' Niamh was firm, reclaiming her elbow from his grip. She needed some space to come to terms with what had happened. Her mind didn't
want to process her busted nose and Lucinda's involvement; it wanted to recapture the clarity she'd experienced when she'd thought she was going to die. The clarity about her father and mother, Aisling and her baby, Scott and Jenny, and how the future would evolve for all of them.

‘Are you sure?'

Willem's troubled face almost made her laugh, albeit hysterically.

‘Yes, take the officer to see Yoshi – he's the best person to deal with this,' she said when she got a hold of her seesawing emotions. She thought of Yoshi's black eye and had the urge to laugh again. She took her purse back from the officer and followed the paramedic through the spectators to the waiting ambulance.

Willem wasn't happy about letting her go alone but the female officer was waiting with a look of expectation. He was about to suggest they go inside when his mobile rang.

‘Bruce,' he said when he heard his boss's familiar voice. Then he listened intently. ‘So that's what Greene was doing for Lucinda, installing a virus … Now that I think of it, I heard the voices talk about a virus too … Where is it? Servers or mainframe? … Shit! That will be hard. Okay, I'll take AIZ … I'm on my way right now.'

The officer started to get impatient and pointedly cleared her throat. Willem turned to her and said, ‘We have an emergency with a client. I have to go immediately.' He ran back up the alley as fast as he had run down to save Niamh.

The officer called after him, ‘Wait! Wait! I need your phone number.'

He heard her but couldn't afford to stop.

Helen passed by Donna's desk on the way back to her office.

‘I need you to get a payment ready.' She was short of breath from the rush. ‘The bank details are here.' She handed her a photocopy of the account details only, the letter of demand that preceded them was not for Donna's eyes.

‘How much?' the young accounts clerk asked.

‘Thirty million.'

‘Yen?'

‘No, Australian dollars.'

‘You're joking, right?' Donna gave an uncertain giggle.

‘I wish I was.'

There was a sobering silence before Donna said, ‘But we don't have thirty million in our bank account.'

‘Let me worry about that,' Helen told her, already walking away. ‘Drop whatever you're doing. Just get the payment ready. Don't submit it to the bank – have it standing by.'

Helen raced the remaining distance to her office. She rifled through her business-card collection for Keith's contact details. Her fingers were butter, the cards gluing to them. She couldn't see it so she turned the holder upside down, the cards falling to spread across her desk. The wayward card surfaced and she jabbed out the number on her desk phone.

‘Keith – it's Helen – where are you?'

‘Outside Lucinda's house. She hasn't left for work yet.'

‘Go and knock on the door.'

‘That will give my identity away.'

‘It's too late to worry about her knowing who you are. She demanded thirty million from us this morning.'

‘Thirty million bucks?' he gasped. ‘Is she blackmailing you?'

‘I haven't the time to go into the details. Can you just go up to the door and see if there is someone home?'

‘All right, I'm going. Do you want to stay on the line or will I call you back?'

‘I'll stay.' Helen was firm.

Keith got out of his car and walked down the drive to the house. He knocked on the weathered door. When there was no answer, he rang the bell. Then he circled the house, looking inside each window. There was no sign of life. ‘Do you want me to break in?' he asked in a matter-of-fact way.

‘No, they're gone. I
knew
they'd be gone.'

‘Do you want me to check the airport?'

‘Yes. Can you go straight there?'

‘International, I presume?'

‘Yes.'

‘I'm on my way.'

Helen looked at her watch. There was no way she would get back to Malcolm's office within thirty minutes. Her next call was to the company's bank manager, his business card was easier to locate. He was a man who was rarely at this desk but this morning she was lucky.

‘Frank. It's Helen Barnes. Look, sorry for the rush, but we're trying to get something done here at short notice … How much free facilities do we have at the moment? Nine million? I was hoping it would be more than that. Look, we may go into debit today … Um … a net twenty-one million … Yes, that's right … I can get the extra funds from Tokyo tomorrow … Would you honour the payment? It's just one day … No, no long-term requirement … Great, thanks, Frank. Owe you one.'

Helen came across as more grateful than she really was. The bank had security over the company's premises and were well covered for a short-term extension of credit. She'd known from the outset that Frank would authorise it.

She was already over time but she had one more thing to do before returning to Malcolm's office. She wanted to find Niamh.

Yoshi had also gone back to his office, the door shutting behind him with a bang. He sat down, his eyes glancing off the beautiful photograph of Sydney Harbour that hung behind the door. It was a gift from Helen, her way of telling him that his home was now in Sydney. He took a deep breath and dialled his boss's number. A sweet-voiced secretary answered the phone on the other end.

‘Good morning,' he greeted her. ‘This is Murasaki. I am looking for Nishikawa Shacho.'

‘Hello, Murasaki Bucho. Unfortunately, Nishikawa Shacho is not in the office this morning.'

‘I must speak with him.' Yoshi's voice had a restrained urgency. ‘Do you know where he is?'

‘I'm afraid not. I have not heard from him this morning. It is most unusual.'

‘Okay. I will call his home number. Goodbye.'

It took Yoshi a few moments to locate Nishikawa Shacho's home number. He never had occasion to call it before now. It rang for some time before a tremulous female voice came on the other end.

‘
Moshi moshi
. This is Murasaki. I apologise for calling your home but I am looking for Nishikawa Shacho urgently.'

‘He's not here.'

‘I must speak with him urgently. Do you know where he is?'

There was such a long pause that Yoshi thought maybe she had not heard his question. He was about to repeat it when she said, ‘He's moved out. He's gone to live with the geisha in Kyoto.'

Yoshi was deeply shocked. Nishikawa Shacho had religiously maintained that his relationship with the geisha was one of true friendship. Yoshi felt deceived. He could only imagine what the wife was feeling. ‘I am most sorry.'

‘He says she's his soulmate and that he can no longer deny his destiny,' the wife said, her voice breaking with sobs. ‘Have you met this woman who has taken my husband from me?'

‘Only over dinner,' he responded, playing down the numerous times he had met the geisha. He excused himself before putting the phone down.

He was momentarily distracted from the virus and the ransom demand. The wife's humiliation and devastation were heart-wrenching. Her breakdown on the phone, to a virtual stranger, would undoubtedly cause her even more distress. Yoshi hoped her children were there to comfort her. She had two boys, grown up now; the youngest would have finished college this year. It suddenly occurred to Yoshi that Nishikawa Shacho must have planned to leave his wife when the children finished their education. The vice-president was not one to act on impulse.

Yoshi had one more number for his boss. It was a mobile phone number. Again, it wasn't a number he had dared to call before. He took another deep breath, not sure what reception he would get.

The vice-president answered, his voice raw with sleep.

‘Nishikawa Shacho, I am sorry to disturb you. I need your advice. We have a crisis in Australia.'

‘Just a minute.' There was a rustle of bedclothes and then the echo of feet as they padded across hollow floorboards.

‘Tell me what is wrong,' he said after a few moments.

Yoshi read out the fax.

‘How did this happen?' Nishikawa Shacho demanded when he finished. ‘This will ruin the company.'

Yoshi didn't answer straight away. He chose his words carefully. ‘It appears to be a collaboration between our legal counsel, Lucinda Armstrong, and the software engineer, Denis Greene – the employee who was suing us. That's all we know at this point.'

‘Is the virus real? Could it be a hoax?'

‘We think it is real.'

Nishikawa Shacho didn't take any further time to ask questions.

‘Pay them the money,' he instructed.

Yoshi had been expecting a more in-depth discussion, an interrogation, even a chiding for being the bearer of the bad news. ‘Is that your final answer?