Soul

They all leaned closer to the screen as a figure, barely visible in the dim light of the footage, his face masked, entered. His torch sent a ghostly streak through the black and grey recording as its beam bounced along the darkened shelves and cluttered benches. For a moment the footage blanked white as the arc of light swung across the hidden camera eye.

‘Is anything missing?’ Julia asked.

‘No, that’s what’s so strange.’

On screen, the figure moved cautiously, poised like a dancer.

‘This guy’s professional.’

‘Yeah, freaky, eh?’

‘Wait, the best part’s coming up.’

The intruder pulled a small digital camera from his back pocket and began photographing. Julia stood back, horrified. ‘So do we know what he got?’

Jennifer hit the pause button and the image froze. ‘Not much, really. I don’t believe he knew what to look for. I mean, he took shots of Oona’s wheat grass, for Christ’s sake!’ She snorted derisively. ‘Could have been one of those mad animal liberationists again. I don’t know why we don’t just put a sign up for the guys—you know, something like “There are no live animals, small children or white supremacists kept on the premises”.’

‘What about the Defense Department project?’

The assistants glanced at each other sheepishly. Finally, Gabriel spoke up.

‘Yeah, he took shots of the DNA results. But unless he had access to the research notes, it wouldn’t make any sense at all.’

Julia sat at her desk wondering who would go to such extremes. Valco? Her work might be of interest to the insurance company if a genetic propensity was proven to directly affect people’s ability to work, but such information was at least a decade away. Could it be the ex-Delta soldier, Donohue? Could he have lied to her? Was it possible he was working for another government?

There was a tentative knock on the door. Gabriel hovered in the doorway, unsure about whether he should come in. Julia smiled at him and he walked over to the desk.

‘Gabriel, about last night—’

He held his hand up. ‘Please don’t make the mistake of underestimating my intelligence. Besides, I seduced you, so in case you’re having doubts you’re morally redeemed.’

‘Just promise me you won’t tell your mother.’

‘Sorry, company policy—never sign a contract you can’t keep.’

He opened the file he was carrying to reveal a series of developed images of DNA: they resembled blurred bar codes. Julia pulled the lamp across, spilling light over the photographs.

‘We mined for ANG–1,’ he said, and placed five of the images beside five traced graphs, each with a name written above it—the source of the DNA. ‘Jack Lewis, Mathew Catherton, Kurt Moony, Clive O’Hare, Carlos Santos—some of them representing an identical twin, some fraternal. All of them top combat soldiers with extensive frontline experience—high risk-takers, adrenaline junkies—none of them suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. All showing the same genetic profile for the genes tested.’

Julia scanned the results, trying to contain her growing excitement, then leapt up and went over to her filing cabinet. She quickly flicked through the hanging personnel files and pulled out the individual folders of the twin of each of the named men. She placed these against the files already laid out.

‘Benito Lewis—identical twin—and yes, same genetic profile…’ She glanced down the notes. ‘Same behavioural traits, saw service in Srebrenica, Afghanistan…no post-trauma…’ She glanced at another set of files. ‘George Catherton, non-identical twin, different ANG–1 sequence to his brother Mathew—he has ANG–1B—requested transfer from platoon after frontline encounter in Kuwait and has suffered post-trauma. Looking good, looking good…’

‘Julia, I still don’t believe this can be the only factor.’

‘Relax, nothing’s proven until we have the results in of all five hundred. But I want you to narrow the testing down to this specific ANG–1 sequence difference; meanwhile I’ll tell the interstate researchers to do the same.’

‘There’s something else you need to know—a matter of great scientific import.’

She looked up at him, worried he might have made a miscalculation.

‘I shall probably attempt to seduce you again.’

She couldn’t help but smile.

‘At your own peril. Just remember, there’s no way this is ever going to be a relationship.’

‘Who said I was after a relationship?’ Grinning, he left.