Free Tropic of Death by Robert Sims

came the wheeze and rattle of an air-conditioning unit, one of the few modern accessories in the room. Others were a computer desk, swivel chair, a seminar table where Rita laid out the case notes and a whiteboard to which she blu-tacked photos of the victims. As she stood in front of them, trying to draw some insight into the killer’s mind, she began to see something contrived among the graphic images. The crime signature was plain to see: death by nail gun followed by decapitation. But one series of shots was more compelling than the rest. Rachel Macarthur’s head on a spike, placed there for maximum attention, appeared to be an emphatic statement as much as a psychotic gesture. So what exactly was the killer’s message, and why did the impaled head seem oddly recognisable? The notion bothered her, though she couldn’t quite grasp an association.
    With a sigh Rita strolled back to the display cases, gazing distractedly at the collection of vintage handbills and broadsheets.
    As she stood there, arms folded, her eyes fell on a front page from 1867. It carried a report on justice meted out to a bushranger under the headline: homicidal outlaw executed . Somehow it was apposite. And then it clicked. The killing of Rachel Macarthur bore the hallmarks of an execution. Even the positioning of the head, transfixed and elevated for public show, reflected the traditional fate reserved for traitors.
    Such a possibility was consistent with a political theme or motive for the murder. It would make the setting - the confrontation between protesters and defence officials - extremely relevant.
    More ominously, it could also explain why such a line of inquiry was obstructed by officers at Whitley Sands. And there was something else. Rita was privy to additional information that justified investigating the research base - the warning delivered to Byron by Konrad Steinberg. If Dr Steinberg was right about ‘fascist thugs’ in charge of security, the implication was deeply disturbing.
    It gave Rachel’s death a clear context and made identifying the first anonymous victim, the man in the mud, even more imperative.
    The next move was obvious. Rita strode over to her desk, picked up her mobile and called the number Byron had given her.
    It was answered with a curt, ‘Yes?’
    ‘Dr Steinberg?’ Rita asked.
    ‘Who’s this?’
    ‘My name’s Rita Van Hassel,’ she replied. ‘Detective Sergeant Van Hassel. I’m a criminal profiler with the Victoria Police but I’ve been seconded to Whitley for the investigation into the beheadings.’
    ‘How did you get my number?’ he demanded.
    ‘From Professor Byron Huxley.’
    ‘Byron?’
    ‘He and I are -‘ she searched for the appropriate words - ‘very close. We’ve been together for some time now. Before I came up here he repeated your comments about the research base.’
    ‘That’s regrettable,’ said Steinberg. ‘When did you arrive in Whitley?’
    ‘Today.’
    ‘Then I’ve got some advice for you. Make your excuses and go. Leave as soon as you can.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because of what I told Byron - it’s worse than I thought.’
    ‘Even so, I’ve got a job to do, questions to ask.’
    ‘Well, don’t believe anything you hear from the military and don’t trust the local police. They’re all in it together.’
    ‘The police? With all due respect, that sounds extreme.’
    ‘So is the war on terror and its contempt for the law. You’re investigating the results.’
    ‘If I understand you correctly,’ she said slowly, ‘you’re talking about two murders.’
    ‘There’s a prevailing force here that’s extremely dangerous.’
    ‘Can you be more specific?’
    ‘Not over the phone, no.’
    ‘Fine. Let’s meet.’
    ‘That’s unwise - for both of us.’
    ‘Dr Steinberg, I intend to talk to you and I’d rather do it discreetly.’
    ‘In other words, with or without my cooperation.’ He sighed.
    ‘Are you at Whitley Sands right now?’
    ‘Yes, but I’ll be