Private Sydney (Private 12)

‘I’m so proud of you.’ She wrestled back a tear but didn’t elaborate. ‘You better get to the lab.’

I was confused when Johnny appeared in the corridor outside, face beaming.

‘Lucky we have a Gene-IE to grant us wishes,’ he said.

Darlene brushed past in her white coat.

To my surprise, Eliza was at the computer desk behind the lab door and looked up at me.

‘You took your time,’ she said with a glint in her green eyes. ‘Leaving us to do all the work.’

I had an overwhelming urge to hug her, which I didn’t fight. She responded very tightly, then slowly broke away.

‘What are you doing standing around? I’m still paying you to find my father.’

Her smile made the morning’s events worth it. ‘All right then.’ I stepped back, fully realising Eliza was the reason I cared so much about the case.

‘First, though,’ she added, ‘there’s something I need to tell you.’ Her tone was suddenly grave. ‘And I don’t think you’re going to like it.’

Chapter 113

I SUGGESTED WE talk outside. My paranoia about surveillance meant Eliza and I left our phones at reception. This time, I didn’t want to take any chances.

‘Keep all the doors locked,’ I advised Collette. ‘Don’t let anyone in we don’t already know and trust, and don’t accept any deliveries.’

‘I won’t let you down,’ she said, locking the doors behind us.

Whatever it was Eliza wanted to reveal had me concerned. I opted for a café we hadn’t been to before.

I had no idea what this morning could have triggered. If ADIA or the CIA had murdered Moss and had switched his body in the coffin for some reason, they’d be mighty pissed off with this morning’s events. And if they had nothing to do with the death, they’d be back on Eric’s tail now they knew he wasn’t dead. Which meant on Eliza’s tail too.

The hissing of the machines and grinding beans made eavesdropping almost impossible. We found a seat in the corner and ordered two lattes, and a chicken salad on sourdough to share.

As soon as the waiter left, Eliza began.

‘A couple of days ago, flowers arrived for the accounta

nt in the office next to mine. Inside the envelope that came with them was something addressed to me, asking him to hand-deliver a micro USB.’

Whoever sent it had to know all mail and deliveries to Eliza would be monitored. ‘Is it from your dad?’

‘It has to be. It contains a file with the text of a kid’s story he used to read to me, word for word. I knew it by heart, so Dad didn’t need to remind me.’

‘Was there anything else on it? Maybe some encrypted files?’

‘I asked my neighbour, who’s an IT whiz. He said there was nothing else on it.’

‘Who else knew you read that book together?’

She moved the salt and pepper to the side of the table to make way for the coffees. ‘No one.’

It was also plausible there were encoded or encrypted files that couldn’t be readily deciphered. Whoever sent the USB didn’t want it seen by the authorities.

‘What’s the book?’ I asked.

‘It was part of a series. Oh, The Things You Can See. This one was about Asia and highlighted exotic animals, costumes and landmarks. You know the sort of thing, orangutans and rainforests, panda bears, warriors and the Great Wall of China. I loved the intricacy of the pictures. They were works of art in their own right.’

If Eric Moss wasn’t Hans Gudgast, maybe this was a clue to where he had been, or where he intended to go. Even so, Asia encompassed a broad range of countries.