Dirty Weekend Read Free Page A

circling on a thermal, the stink of cars and asphalt.
    During the year, the isolated storms that had brought rain were over far too quickly, wetting only the surface, turning dirt roads into skidding traps, not delivering any real moisture, merely settling the dust awhile. I looked down, then cursed when I realised I’d just trodden in dog shit and tried to rid myself of it by scraping my shoe up and down in the burnt-off grass.
    I walked over to the far side of the parking area, towards a small group of people, noticing beyond them the figure of a space-suited young woman working by herself, taking soil samples. Wisps of fair hair escaped the plastic covering her head and the outstanding features of her slender body were not entirely hidden by the rustling, impermeable fabric. There’d never seemed to be such attractive women working crime scene when I’d been in the job in Sydney. Curious, I diverted from my course to join the group to check her out. She straightened up as I neared, waiting for me to reach her. At closer quarters, her face reminded me of those overbred dogs whose eye sockets seem too small for their large eyes.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ she snapped. ‘Who are you?’
    Was it my belt buckle or the fact that I hadn’t shaved? I could’ve replied that when I’d started out in this work, she’d been blowing bubbles in her milk.
    She crinkled her nose in a grimace. ‘What’s that stink?’
    Guiltily, I looked down at my sneaker. I couldn’t smell anything. I pulled out a handkerchief and blew my nose.
    ‘What’s in there?’ I countered, pointing to the small plastic collection jar in her hand.
    In response, she turned to one of the locals in the group behind us. ‘Brian!’ she called. ‘Can you get this fellow out of here? He won’t identify himself and he’s contaminating my samples.’
    Brian Kruger, with whom I’d worked quite closely on a previous case, straightened up from where he’d been squatting, his frown gabling his thick eyebrows. Then, as he recognised me, his expression of aggravated surprise switched to a grin.
    ‘You heard the lady, pal,’ he said, standing up and coming over to join us. ‘Stop contaminating her samples.’
    The young woman looked from one of us to the other, trying to read the situation, her face betraying nothing. This was a very cool customer.
    ‘Sofia,’ Brian said. ‘Meet your boss. Dr Jack McCain.’
    So this was the latest member of the team, I thought, remembering the name from the very impressive application she’d forwarded. After the disastrous events of the previous year, including the loss of two of our most senior scientists and the relocation of another two to Indonesia, several vacancies had been advertised, including that of chief scientist. A couple of less senior positions had been filled, but, increasingly, it looked as if I was pretty well stuck with the acting position until the right applicant turned up. The early selection process and interviews had been held at Sydney headquarters, and I’d been away in Sydney during the recent final interviews in Canberra. The palynology lab was housed separately from the main complex, linked by a covered walkway, otherwise Sofia and I would have met sooner.
    Sofia didn’t bat an eyelid. Instead, she stared at me, her eyes moving down towards the Black Commandos buckle and back again, before saying, ‘And how was I supposed to know that?’
    Brian’s grin widened as he inclined his head in her direction. ‘And this,’ he said, ‘is Sofia Verstoek. Sofia’s new on the block. She’s been helping us out over the last few weeks.’
    Sofia Verstoek had still barely acknowledged me, nor did she seem to notice the irony in Brian’s voice. Ordinarily, I’d have welcomed someone like her on board, but she’d got me on a bad day and I was still feeling pissed off.
    ‘I want to know what you’re collecting,’ I repeated, again indicating the collection jar she was