Damn. The change had been so subtle that he'd missed it yesterday as she'd entered the building. What he saw now confirmed his suspicions that she wasn't attending the church to find spiritual peace, but trying to find out the whereabouts of her sister-in-law and niece.
He hoped for her sake she didn't give herself away.
Normally, having an American frequenting his church would have been flattering, but also a nuisance for Nathaniel. There was no prospect for recruitment in overseas visitors; he had no wish to become entangled in a possible investigation from the immigration department if they over-stayed their visa. But Kate Maclaren posed a different kind of problem.
Nathaniel tried to ensure those he admitted to the Heavenly Houses were the jetsam of society, those whose disappearance wouldn't bring any attention his way. He'd only slipped up once, when a woman had escaped from one of the Houses and demanded her child back, but one phone call had ensured permanent silence for the troublemaker. Others who caused problems were dealt with just as permanently. He was never told the details, but he suspected their deaths came as a relief in the end.
Kate had mentioned her search to him and her hope that he would be able to help her locate her family. She'd seemed to accept his explanation that Melanie and Cindy were now members of the Loving Hand church and had moved on to one of their Heavenly Houses. At her request to see them, Nathaniel had regretfully informed Kate that only devoted church members were allowed into the Houses, but if she were to apply herself she might one day achieve this.
In reality, there was no possibility he would ever allow her to do so, but it was one way to keep an eye on her. He was careful to treat her no differently from the other church members. If he did end up having to have her eliminated, he wanted not even a whisper of doubt about his innocence.
He cursed himself for allowing Cindy to give her quilt to her friend to stop her crying when her time had come to leave the House. That damn quilt and whoever took the photo had created more than enough trouble. But he'd been assured the idiot had been removed from the client list. Permanently.
It was a shame, he sighed, as he watched Kate swaying to the rhythm in the chanting. She was the kind of woman he found a challenge. Although she appeared to be a placid, compliant type, flashes of a strong and passionate personality sometimes surfaced, and he was more than interested in destroying the barriers that kept that facet of her in check. He kept fantasising about having her beneath him, answering his lust with her own.
The sister-in-law was an insipid creature in comparison. He would be happy to throw her out of the Heavenly House and not waste his energies on her, but an order had already been placed for the child and there was no chance now to go back on the deal. He wouldn't be paid until delivery, but Nathaniel knew better than to even suggest letting the child go. He'd already protested that he didn't feel the child was ready, that he hadn't had enough time to work on her. She had such a strong personality that he feared she would cause trouble. And he knew how troublemakers were treated.
It was a pity. She was a beautiful child.
But business was business.
Kate excused herself from one of the 'bonding' sessions Nathaniel was running to go to the bathroom, a ploy she'd used since her first session so he would think it a nervous habit of hers. She was always careful to use the facility, constantly aware of the scrutiny of the two men who, although posing as fervent followers of Nathaniel, acted more like guards than devotees. These men also led the services when Nathaniel wasn't there, and although they lacked Nathaniel's magnetic personality, their fervour never wavered.
In the weeks she had been attending the church services, Kate had observed that only one worker was employed in the office situated opposite the bathroom door. The door was usually latched open when the woman was working during the week, but closed when she wasn't.
Five days ago Kate had timed her exit from the bathroom so she could catch a glimpse of the code the woman was inputting to the office door security panel. Now she watched as the woman hurried down the corridor, pulling her coat collar up against the bitter winter winds she would face on the street below, her handbag clutched against her side.
Kate's heart beat faster. Normally the woman left later than this, when Nathaniel's sessions were finished and everyone was leaving. Although the office was closed on weekends, the services then usually involved families, and children often roamed the corridors, making it almost impossible to slip into the office unobserved. Here was the opportunity she needed, but how long would it be before Nathaniel became suspicious of her prolonged absence and sent someone to look for her?
Kate pushed the thought aside and hurriedly keyed in the memorised numbers. Her tension mingled with relief as the door unlocked. She opened it and slipped inside.
She dashed to the computer and shook the mouse to break the colours spiralling across the screen. Boxes formed, each demanding a password. She tried typing in the most logical, but gave up when it became obvious logic wasn't sufficient. Although there was only one full-time office worker, Nathaniel and his two disciples also used the office when they weren't guiding their followers through group and individual counselling and prayer sessions. Right now, Kate knew, they were occupied, but she had no idea how soon they would come looking for her or if the office worker would return.
Kate knew what she was looking for - the location of the 'Heavenly Houses' where those followers deemed to be most suitable were allowed to go after they'd been assessed by Nathaniel. Already two of the people in the sessions Kate attended had progressed to the 'disciple' stage, but even they weren't privy to the whereabouts of their destination. Their trust in Nathaniel had been absolute, and they had been overjoyed at being selected. Even now Kate shuddered at the memory of how they had given themselves over to him so completely.
Fear made her fingers tremble as she flicked through the paperwork on the desk. Accounts, correspondence. Nothing revealing. She pulled open a drawer on the filing cabinet closest to the desk and started checking the files. They were alphabetically arranged and systematically recorded; from details of members who had donated to the church, to bank statements showing a healthy, but not wealthy, balance.
She froze at the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
The security panel beeped softly.
CHAPTER 6
The land surrounding the Duralinga weapons research facility reflected the extremes of temperature the area experienced. Red earth, baked beyond hardness to a layer of dust, gripped the roots of trees stunted and warped by many rainless seasons. A small spur of hills, more rock than dirt and startling in its unlikely emergence from a flat landscape, thrust its craggy escarpments at a cloudless sky.
The man in grey overalls unloading supplies from a truck paused and looked at the arid landscape. He felt the sun's warmth on his face and was grateful for the natural feel of it. The winter nights here were bitterly cold, and even though the low concrete buildings nestled into the narrow rift between two of the hills were air-conditioned, he sometimes felt the desire to breathe fresh air, to walk into the sweeping plains and lose himself in their vastness.
He understood the reason for choosing this place to build the facility. Scanners on top of the hills gave 360 degree views; the fenced compound allowed only one entry point, and the road leading in was posted with signs that said 'Private Property - Mining Lease', 'Explosives in Use' and 'Keep Out'; surveillance cameras covered every angle; and artesian water was plentiful. But most importantly, the building closest to the nearest hill gave access to a series of lifts and tunnels that led under that hill and in which the most important work was carried out. Even an aerial or satellite photo would show no more than the outside buildings.
Although he'd worked here many months, he had never lost the feeling of weight that seemed to oppress him each time the lift took him under the hill. He wondered how some of the workers who'd been at the complex for years were able to stay sane in the circumstances.