more question, Melodie … Captain Roberts,’ he amended as he saw her anger flare.
‘Well?’
‘Was there any particular aspect of Christianity that interested these two?’
She opened her mouth to speak, but then paused.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘What’s nothing?’
‘There was no proper aspect of Christianity that interested them.’
‘Proper? What about improper?’
‘Please don’t twist my words for meaning, Agent Tooley. I really can’t help you with this so I suggest you continue your investigations elsewhere.’
She left the office so Conan had little choice other than to follow her out, but in her haste to be rid of him she forgot to let him go first down the stairs. Conan found himself almost swooning with desire at the sight of her gorgeous bottom in the tight, black, god-fearing skirt.
Halfway down the stairs, she suddenly turned and Conan knew he’d been caught.
‘Um … I was just thinking,’ he stammered, as she blushed an angry pink.
‘Thinking? Is that what you call it?’
‘Yes … look, chances are, I’ll turn up one night at your Great Debate. Maybe even tonight.’
‘Everyone’s welcome,’ she said, in an ice-hard voice that clearly meant everyone but him.
‘Yeah … erm … but if I do turn up, I don’t want anyone to know who I am … so don’t talk to me.’
‘Don’t talk to you,’ she echoed, reaching the bottom of the stairs and waving him towards the door. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
Chapter 6
First Man Eaten
Several hours later, after another frustrating afternoon at the office (where no record of any interview with Captain Roberts could be found), Conan was sitting just across the road from her chapter house, sipping a coffee of surprisingly good quality and enjoying the noise of the street and the evening cooking smells from so many open air kitchens. He’d picked up a tattered print out of the Ord City Times and was reading about another refugee boat sunk (allegedly) by the Dedd Reffo sub, the Eureka, and the Giant Array – a huge field of radio telescopes about fifty kilometres south – which was on the brink of some major breakthrough.
Unlike Conan’s case, which was going nowhere.
The one small result he’d had was a report back from forensics on the card found in Wing Ho’s shoe. The handwriting referred to the address where the bodies had been found, and also seemed to refer to Epistola Clementis which was part of the URL he had copied from the locked computer in the dead men’s flat. And when Conan did a search on those words he had been intrigued to learn that Epistola Clementis was Latin for ‘The Letter of Clement’. There was very little on the net about it, but what there was seemed to suggest that the Letter was a controversial document from the early Catholic Church.
Conan had wanted to take the dead men’s computers in to go through their search history but Loongy had absolutely refused.
‘Case closed, Tools,’ he’d said. ‘There’s too much for forensics to do up here so we can’t waste any more time on Sydney politics.’
‘Since when is an Ord City double murder Sydney politics?’
‘Since you came up to waste our time,’ said Loongy. ‘I’ve been talking to your boss … he says you should go.’
‘He hasn’t told me that,’ said Conan, although in truth, there was an email from Kenny Cook which he hadn’t opened.
Conan took another sip of his coffee and glanced at his watch.
Something felt wrong. It was clear that Loongy was deliberately preventing him from making progress with the investigation and, in all likelihood, it truly would be a waste of time to pursue it further. Everything pointed to a Dedd Reffo (or Habal Tong) execution and the world would hardly end because of it. But why send him up in the first place if they didn’t want the crime investigated?
Conan rubbed at his eyes and felt his frustration seething. First he’d been taken off the remote terror investigation – which was clearly still a massive threat to the NBN node south of Ord City. Then he’d been sent up here on a wild goose chase – a wild goose they didn’t want him to catch!
Nothing made sense and Conan suspected he’d soon be back in Sydney and increasingly marginalised – unless he could somehow pull off a huge win from the total fucking shambles of Ord City.
He drained his cup and left the café, ignoring the clamouring street traders and dashing between the hundreds of motorbikes that mostly constituted Ord City traffic.
Just before nine o’clock, he slipped into the Army of God chapter house. The main hall was about a quarter full, some with their heads bowed in prayer and the rest lounging in studied irreverence. At the front of the room, Lieutenant Rice and Captain Roberts – Melodie – sat watching another man in the same black uniform who stood with his palms raised, his eyes closed and finishing some kind of prayer in a sweetly melodious baritone.
‘… and please, Lord, open the hearts and minds of all Australians of all faiths, but especially the non-believers. Let your light into their souls and give them the grace … the peace … the absolute bliss and joy that we, who already bathe in your light and love, get to know every day. Open the gates to your kingdom of heaven and let your love shine forth to bathe the upturned faces of all humanity!’
‘Harr-aruya!’ cried a small Chinese man, rather detracting from the enchantment of the baritone.
‘… give them freedom from doubt,’ continued the Man in Black. ‘Give them your faith, your knowledge, your certainty that there is a life eternal … forever by your side in the Garden … Eden restored.’
‘Harr-aruya!’
Conan took a chair at the back, slightly away from the others and caught Melodie’s eye for a moment. She stared, then turned primly away to watch her colleague finish his prayer. The mellifluous baritone rumbled to a conclusion.
‘Harr-aruya! Harr-aruya!’
The little Chinese man, dressed only in blue checked shorts and a white singlet, was in a world of his own, completely oblivious to the impact of his interjections on the devout spell cast by the voice of the Man in Black. Conan found himself thoroughly amused by the theatre – especially when the Chinese man embraced the speaker, chattering excitedly as the taller man suffered the embrace with obviously strained indulgence.
Then Melodie stood and announced, ‘We will just take a short break before the Great Debate. Please help yourselves to coffee and tea.’
With that she disappeared through a door at the back, followed by the Man in Black. The congregation all stood and shuffled towards the table at the side of the room where a large urn was plugged in and started helping
