Black Ice (32 page)

Tuesday 16 April, 12.40 pm

Jill refused to let the paramedics near her until they let her speak to Cassie. She sat on the tailgate of the ambulance and waited.

Gabriel brought her little sister over. Handcuffed.

'What are you doing?' she shouted at Gabe, although she already knew. She'd seen Cassie at Nader's house. She must have been in on this deal somehow.

Gabriel's eyes were hooded. 'Cassie's made a confession, Jill. She's been very cooperative.'

Jill stared at her sister, desolate. A rhythmic, pounding ache surged from her stomach and tore through her heart. She doubled over and her vision darkened. A bright spot appeared, distant in the field of blackness, rapidly flickering closer. She saw two girls, laughing. Eyes impossibly bright, unguarded, exultant. Cassie at nine; Jill at eleven. Before the abduction.

Right now, Jill lifted her head and looked into her sister's eyes. She wanted to speak, to tell Cassie how sorry she was that she hadn't been there all those years. Of course, right when she needed them most, she had no words. What could she say? What could she do?

Suddenly Jill lurched forwards and threw her arms around her sister, held on, too tight, delaying the moment that Cassie would push her away, fight her off, gawp at her as though she were deranged. Instead, Cassie leaned into her, their tears merging. There was no sound. And suddenly, the white-eyed girl was there with them: a part of twelve-year-old Jill that had split off from her when the pain had become too bad during the torture she'd endured in the basement. The white-eyed girl stood and stared at them holding each other.

'I love you, Jill,' said Cassie.

The white-eyed girl disappeared.

'My face hurts,' said Jill.

They laughed, and peeled away from each other.

Jill tried. 'I . . .' It stuck. She'd never said it before.

'It's okay, Jill. I know,' said Cassie.

'No, you don't, Cass. I love you, too. I've always loved you. I just didn't know that because I didn't know that I had any feelings left. I know that sounds stupid, but it's the only way I can explain it. I've always known I loved you, and Mum, and everyone, but I only knew it in here.' She touched her head. 'I just couldn't feel anything in here.' She put her hand on her chest. 'I thought that part of me was dead, like rotten or removed or something. Anyway, I can feel it now.' She reached up and touched her taller, younger sister's face. 'I'm so sorry, Cass.'

Cassie's eyes and nose streamed. Jill dug for a tissue in her pocket and wiped her face for her.

'You could use one of those too,' said Cassie. 'You look like shit.'

Gabriel made a movement and Jill suddenly became re-aware that people watched them. Genovese leaned, arms folded, against an unmarked car. Lanvin had already left with Nader.

The lawyer, Worthington, stood at Gabriel's shoulder.

'Ah, Detective Jackson,' said Gabriel. 'May I have a brief word?'

'Just wait here a sec, Cass,' Jill said. 'Don't move . . . I mean, could you just stay . . .'

'It's okay, Jill,' Cassie said with a tiny smile. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

Frowning, Jill turned towards Gabriel. He indicated with his chin to walk with him a few metres from Worthington.

'What the fuck, Gabe,' she said. She looked back over her shoulder towards the lawyer. 'Why isn't that prick cuffed?'

Gabriel sighed, squinted into the sun. 'Look, he's coming in, Jill, but he's already making some big noises about our treatment of him during the bust. His story is that he's Byron Barnes's lawyer. Reckons he was out there giving legitimate counsel, and is as surprised as we are about the drugs. Reckons he'll prove all of it to us back at the house.'

Jill scowled. 'It's bullshit,' she said. 'You saw him, Gabe. He was shitting himself. He's involved in this deal.'

'I hear you,' said Gabriel. 'But Last wants him treated carefully. If he is Barnes's lawyer, we may have nothing on him. And Barnes is still in the wind. We're gonna have to wait and take this carefully. Apparently this fucker has some major connections. And he's already got his own lawyer lined up, waiting for us back at the shop.'

'Well, what's he doing now?' said Jill, speaking to Gabriel but watching Worthington, who was standing close to Cassie, whispering. 'What's he want with my sister?'

Gabriel shrugged. 'He asked for a word,' he said. 'Reckons he'll be representing her. He insisted on a couple of minutes. Because we haven't formally arrested him, there's nothing really we can do.'

Jill folded her arms and watched her little sister speaking with Worthington. He just seems like a smarmy scumbag, she thought, watching him lean over Cassie, speaking rapidly, assuredly. Suddenly, he stiffened, his head snapped back. He stared at Cassie as though she had just projectile vomited in his face. But her sister just stood calmly, smiling a little, her lips mouthing words Jill had no hope of hearing.

Worthington's shoulders slumped. He moved away from Cassie, back towards Genovese, his face ashen.

'What was that?' said Jill.

'Whatever,' said Gabriel. 'Time's up, anyway. You ready, Jill?'

'Yeah,' she said. She walked slowly back towards her sister, already dreading the next part of the process – taking Cass's statement, calling her parents.

But what is she thinking? Jill thought, watching Cassie beaming as she approached, genuinely smiling at her for the first time in a very long time. Doesn't she understand the shit she's in?

'Jill,' said Cassie, when she reached her side, 'could you reach into my top pocket?'

Brow furrowed, Jill reached in and removed a memory stick for a computer.

'In there,' said Cassie, 'you'll find multiple video and audio files documenting Christian Worthington buying and dealing commercial quantities of drugs.'

Jill stared at the USB in her fingers.

'And Jill,' said Cassie, 'this is very important. You won't
see
me in there, but you'll hear people talking to me a lot, especially Christian. But he doesn't call me Cassie. He uses a pet name of mine – Seren.'

'Seren?' said Jill.

'Yep. Nice, isn't it? It's short for Serendipity. You know, it means happy coincidence, lucky chance.'

Tuesday 16 April, 12.41 pm

Dirk McClintoff put his Coke in the cup holder and his smoke between his lips to take the corner. The traffic had been a freaken nightmare – an hour to get from Parramatta just to Petersham. He swore he could feel his ulcer bleeding a little more when he got stuck at every light. The petrol gauge dropped without mercy before his very eyes as he crunched the semi-trailer up through the gears after every holdup.

Finally, his turnoff. He didn't know why he was in such a hurry to get home, though. The place had been cold and gloomy since his bitch wife had left him. Not that it had exactly been all warm and fuzzy when she'd been there. She'd spent every waking minute on online forums or at the shops spending his money.

As always, he indicated from the centre lane to take the left turn. No way this rig could take the tight corner from the kerbside lane. As usual, he could sense the other drivers' frustration all around him as they waited for the heavy truck to negotiate the corner. Where were they gonna go anyway, he thought. The road was a parking lot ahead of him.

'What the fuck!' Dirk's cigarette fell from his mouth and landed on his balls. The blue WRX was flying in the empty left lane up the hill. This prick's gonna try to overtake in the left lane! Dirk ripped up the handbrake and stood straight up on the footbrakes, but he knew there was no way he was gonna stop this thing before . . .

Dirk's forehead smacked into his window when the Rexie slammed into the side of his trailer. He shook his head, dizzy. He then shot out of his cabin and bolted through cars around to the left side of the truck. He stopped dead, knowing there was fuck-all he could do.

He rubbed at his forehead, feeling his fingers sticky with his blood. His head would hurt tomorrow. He took another quick look at what was left of the blue car jammed in under the trailer. Who was he to complain? At least he still had a head.

June

Seren used the remote to bump up the aircon a smidge. Marco would be home in an hour, and she wanted it toasty. She smiled and hugged herself, thinking of the trail of clothes he left as soon as he walked into the apartment each day. His private-school uniform. He began shedding bits and pieces in the lift – the hat, the blazer – and by the time he reached his bedroom, he wore nothing but jocks and socks.

'I hate it there,' he moaned every day, trying to hide his smile. She knew he loved his new school; saw the effort he was putting into his homework for the first time in his life.

She thumbed through a
Gourmet Traveller
and selected tomorrow's dinner. Slow-cooked salmon, she decided, poached in barely warm olive oil for an hour. It has to be seafood, she thought, staring out at the water off Birkenhead Point beyond the balcony.

She picked up the business card from the kitchen counter; flipped it over and back again, studying every letter, as though this could make its owner move things along faster. I wonder if he'll even
want
to stay with us, she worried. She read the name again –
Barbara McDougall, Department of Community Services
. Barbara had found her little brother, Bradley, within twenty minutes of her first call. He was eighteen now, and living in a share house.

She stared at the front door of the apartment, picturing Bradley walking in here on the weekend to visit them. Will he look like me, she wondered? Like Mum, like Dad? Will he forgive me? She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands and turned again to look out at the water. A monstrously fat pelican sat perched on a buoy in the winter sunshine, staring straight at her. He seemed to wink. Did he just wink?

She winked back, just in case.

And that reminds me, she thought. I must do more about maintaining this lifestyle. She hopped off the bar stool in the kitchen and padded, barefoot, across the thick carpet to her bedroom. She rebooted the computer and logged in to her bank. She electronically transferred funds to pay the rent on her old apartment, wondering who would have commandeered it. Probably Tready. She shuddered. He, or whoever else it was, would be the last person to tell anyone that she didn't live there anymore. He'd probably have moved right in and rented his own shithole out to the hookers on an hourly basis.

What else do I need to do to keep all of this going? she wondered. She was sure that Christian would never bother her again. He knew that Cassie had told her where to find the gun he'd hidden during a murder trial for his client. That would get him at least fifteen and up to twenty-five years for aiding and abetting, perverting the course of justice. He'd cop his five years sweet and forget he'd ever laid eyes on her.

She stretched her neck and stared at the ceiling. She'd thought she'd had the world figured out, people figured out. She knew there were good and bad people. She knew that some people were kind, could love, could be relied upon. She didn't know there were people like Cassie Jackson. She smiled, thinking of the last letter she'd received. Cassie still had another six months in gaol-ordered rehab. That'd make it summer before she could have her over here to thank her properly. She was already planning the menu.

And Zeko? What about Zeko? Was it time to call him again, remind him that it was best that he forget her name completely? She didn't think so. She knew as well as he did that his mortgage and his six kids relied upon that slaughterhouse wage, and that some skinny blonde bitch wasn't worth losing it all for. No, as long as she showed up to visit the lovely Maria Thomasetti for another few months, she was home and hosed.

Except that eight hundred thousand wouldn't last forever with these Sydney rental prices.

She did a quick Google search and leaned back in her leather office chair; she put her feet up on her bed and dialled the number she had found.

'Sydney Stock Exchange,' said a female voice.

'Oh, hi,' said Seren. 'I'd like to enroll in your beginners' classes for share trading.'

'You're not going to believe this,' said the woman. 'I was just closing off the enrollments for this session. I can just squish you in. If you'd called a couple of minutes later, you'd have had to wait another two months. How lucky!'

'That's me,' said Seren. 'Lucky.'