Color of Blood(85)

“That’s disgusting,” Judy said, “really bloody disgusting.”

“Well, let’s stop talking about it then,” Dennis said.

“Do you really think that’s how Pearson died?”

“Yes,” he said, yawning.

“Dennis, if that’s true, well, I can’t tell you how angry that makes me. Poor Mrs. Pearson. God.”

“Can we talk about the map again?” he said.

“With relish,” she said. “Bastards.”

They looked at the map in silence.

Judy pulled herself up into a kneeling position.

“You know, the mystery site could be anywhere,” she said, “from the Kimberleys up there to the Bight down there.”

“From the what?”

“The Kimberleys.”

“The Kimberleys?” he repeated.

“Yes, why?”

Dennis stood up, rushed over to a pile of papers and pulled out his spiral-bound notebook. He leafed violently through pages and stopped at a page. He read off the page:



Not Kimberly

Nor the way of the lake

But a Savory treat!

For all Europium



“What is that?”

“Don’t you remember? It’s Garder’s poem. I found it in his office at the consulate. The poetry professor thought it was pretty awful?”

“Right,” Judy said.

She looked back at the map, and Dennis rushed over and kneeled down again next to her. She grabbed a large yellow sticky from a pad and stuck it to the part of the map titled Kimberley region, situated in the northwest section of the state.

“He didn’t spell Kimberley correctly, but perhaps he wasn’t familiar with the region,” she said.

They both bent over the map of mining operations.

“Here!” Judy said. “Lake Maitland and Lake Way—two large uranium deposits next to each other.”

Dennis read out: “But a Savory treat!”

“The Savory Basin!” Judy was bouncing on her knees. “Look, there’s a huge uranium deposit in the Savory Basin. It’s a godforsaken place in the center of the state.” Grabbing the notebook from Dennis, she looked at the lines again.

“This isn’t a poem, it’s more like a riddle!” she said. “My God, Dennis, I think we found the black program: the Savory Basin!”

Dennis threw his arms around Judy’s neck. “Not bad for an AFP agent missing the tip of one baby toe.”

“You bastard,” she said, laughing.

“And what about the part about Europe?”

“Well, you said he was a bit of a poet. Sounds like a made-up word that blends ‘Europe’ and ‘opium.’ Perhaps opium’s involved, and it’s being sent to Europe? You’re going to have to figure that out yourself.”

Judy laughed and pulled Dennis toward her. She kissed him twice; first out of celebration, next out of passion. They fell against the side of the bed and paused, pulling away from each other, panting heavily.

And then they were at it again. This time they rolled up onto the bed, crushing the map under their bodies as they rolled back and forth over the state of Western Australia. Dennis was consumed with so much passion that he did not stop until they lay naked, slick with sweat.

Judy’s clothes were strewn all around the floor and on top of the map they had tossed off the bed. She could hardly remember taking her clothes off. She did not know who turned off the light but, she was thankful and a little embarrassed by the mad sex.

He bent forward and kissed her on the top of her head. They lay there for a while until she fell sound asleep to the crinkling sounds of the map Dennis was reattaching to the wall.





Chapter 29


“Hey, Chris, how ya doing? It’s Dennis Cunningham.”

Judy drank her cup of coffee and toyed with a bowl of hotel granola. Depending on her mood, she alternated between excitement and despair. The excitement came from the policewoman in her that thrilled in solving complicated mysteries; the despair originated from her fear that Dennis was somehow off his rocker.

Judy did not doubt Dennis was nearly a savant when it came to solving complex, investigative puzzles, but something was peculiar and dangerous about his quest to unearth a black program in the outback. Then again, when she thought of Mrs. Pearson, she could almost justify Dennis’s obsession.

Almost.

For the moment, Judy knew she was being governed by her sudden passion for this man; her intellect was officially on hold.

“Yeah, it would have been a request from the Special Activities Division to alter it,” Dennis spoke into the phone, doodling on a sheet of paper. “Of course Massey approved it. I’ve been detailed to his group, and you’ll see that in the files. I just need you to send me a copy of the official request to Google and any supporting photographs, that kind of stuff. Sure. Well, the sooner the better. I’ll check my email later today. Yeah. Great. Thanks, Chris.”

He put down his phone.

“Now the clock starts ticking,” he said. “Massey and Marty will be copied on my request, but I’m hoping that by the time they notice, I’ll have the documents and will be able to pinpoint the area they wanted blocked out. Or that’s the plan, anyway.”