that was easy. Now I have to get the user to get into the data base.’
‘How will you do that?’
‘It’ll be something they can all remember – the name of the receptionist or one of the doctors, the street they’re in – something like that. I collected a up a few cards while I was there.’
‘You’re a natural’
He took a sip of his coffee and a drag on his joint. ‘Leave me with it, unless you can help.’
‘Just be as quick as you can. I’ve got another job for you when you finish that.’
‘Okay. What’s my rate of pay?’
‘Room and board, son, room and board. D’you know the paperwork involved in actually employing someone these days?’
‘Yeah, the country’s fucked.’
‘Not quite. But they’re trying.’
I left him to it and discovered, when I got downstairs, that my erection had subsided. It was the first time I’d ever been relieved about that. Out of curiosity I opened the box Mrs Merryweather had given me and removed several packets of fine needles designated for injecting insulin; the plastic injection kit and a leaflet on how to use it, another leaflet on priapism (a possible and very unwelcome side effect of the treatment), and a small bottle of the magic elixir. I studied the leaflets. ‘STORE IN REFRIGERATOR’ the sticker on the bottle read, so I did.
‘Hey, Cliff!’
I raced up the stairs, glad to have that freedom of movement back.
‘Got it?’
‘Yep. I’m in and they haven’t password-protected the files.’ Geoff pointed to the screen where Damien Talbot’s file was set out in large type. The doctor had been more thorough with him than Dr Pradesh had been with me. Talbot’s height and weight were recorded along with his pulse rate and blood pressure. He had described himself as a social drinker and admitted to smoking twenty cigarettes a day. The injury to his foot (“damage to ligaments in ankle and foot’) was noted. Talbot had claimed to be in a permanent relationship and to have been impotent for the past year.
The doctor’s notes indicated his scepticism: ‘Patient’s fingers heavily nicotine-stained; evidence of drug injection; blood pressure high, pulse fast, lung capacity poor.’ No medication had been prescribed pending a report from Talbot’s own doctor. The final note wasn’t comforting: ‘Patient violent and abusive’. I copied down the address Talbot had given and the name and address of his doctor, Dr Bruce Macleod.
‘Good work, Geoff. The address’s likely to be phoney but the doctor’s probably genuine.’
‘How do you figure that? And why’s the doctor so important?’
‘I’ve been told Talbot lives mainly in the van and anyone dodging fines the way he’s been doing wouldn’t give out his address easily. But my guess is he wanted the impotence treatment badly enough to stick to the track where he could. At least up until it looked as if he wasn’t going to get his way.’
‘Okay.’
‘The doctor’s the only bit of hard information we’ve got on him, and he’s got plenty of health problems – a crook leg, a broken thumb, drugs, sex. There’s a chance the doctor’ll be able to tell me what he might do next, how dangerous he is. Stuff like that.’
‘I get it. If he’ll talk to you.’
‘There’s that.’
Geoff made a series of moves with the mouse. The slimline printer kicked on and he handed me a printout of the file. I expected a cheeky remark but he wasn’t looking amused. ‘Sounds like a real shit, this bloke.’
I shrugged. ‘He’s said to be charming when he wants to be.’
He turned the computer off and pushed his chair back. ‘So, do we go and see the doctor?’
‘I do, you don’t. Doctors can be difficult. They’re litigious and I’ve already violated the conditions of my licence by getting you to do what you’ve done. If I show up with you in tow…’
‘Well, we’re in the same boat. It’s illegal to hack into medical records.’
‘All the more reason for you to stay out of it. No, I’ve got something else for you to do. Something you can do better than me.’
‘You don’t often hear people your age saying that. What is it?’
‘I want you to go to Tadpole Creek and see if you can get yourself in somehow. As you pointed out yourself, you’re an environmental engineer. You must know the lingo. You could be doing a thesis or something. You’ll have to watch yourself. They’re not dumb. Particularly a woman named Tess Hewitt. She’s the sister of one of the leaders of the protest, Ramsay.’
‘Okay. What am I trying to find out?’
‘This Ramsay Hewitt got himself arrested in connection with the death of the security guard. I’d like to know how that stands. But the most important thing is to find out who’s backing the protest. Putting up the money and supplying equipment and so on.’
‘I thought the most important thing was to find Talbot.’
‘It is, but I’ve got a feeling there’s a connection. There’s something not quite right about this protest.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll show you the stuff I’ve got on the history of the site and you can make up your own mind. Are you all right to drive after smoking dope?’
‘One joint? Sure.’
‘Watch yourself with that when you’re out there. I’m not sure of their attitude to it.’
He stood up and stretched and his fingers almost reached the ceiling. ‘How long’ve they been there?’
‘A couple of months I think.’
He laughed. ‘They’re probably growing it.’
We went downstairs and like a well brought up young person he took his coffee mug with him and rinsed it. I gave him the stuff I’d taken off the Net about Homebush and the material Smith had left. He wasn’t impressed. ‘I’m sure I could come up with more than this.’
‘Later. Here’s a key to the house and the number here and at the office and of the mobile. You can leave messages on all three so stay in touch.’
‘You’re sure you’re not fobbing me off with some bullshit job while you do the real work?’
‘No. And keep an eye out for Megan French.’
‘How’ll I know her?’
‘She’s tall and dark, bit beaky-nosed and she can do a four-metre long-jump in hiking boots.’
‘Your daughter in other words.’
‘Your sister, maybe. And don’t mention me, of course.’
15
I located Dr Macleod’s number in the phone book, rang him and got a male secretary. I stated my business in very general terms and secured an appointment to see the good doctor at 3 pm. That gave me some time to fill in so I took my Smith amp; Wesson. 38 apart and cleaned and oiled it. I hadn’t fired it in a long time and wasn’t anxious to again, but Talbot, a drug-user and violence-prone, sounded dangerous and I had a feeling I was getting closer to him. The. 38’s not a heavy gun, and it sat snugly in a lightweight holster under my left armpit, easily concealed by any kind of loose fitting jacket. I’ve found though, that I tend to move differently when wearing a gun, stand, sit and walk differently, so I strapped it on and kept it there to get used to the feeling while I ate a sandwich and a couple of bananas and drank a cup of caffeinated coffee.
It didn’t surprise me to find my friend and medical adviser, Dr Ian Sangster, smoking and drinking black coffee in his break from surgery at 1 pm. What did surprise me was that he was smoking a filter cigarette and the coffee packet beside his percolator had the word ‘decaffeinated’ printed on it. Sangster was noted for his complete refusal to follow what he called ‘medical correctness’. He ate fast food, smoked, drank a lot, imbibed a dozen cups of coffee every day and didn’t exercise. He looked permanently exhausted but had boundless energy. I tapped the packet.
