Deadly Diplomacy (25 page)

Poor Tom, Jess thought. He’d be furious news of the stabbings had got out. The last thing he needed was a media frenzy about a serial killer.

“
Bastard!
The taxi driver shouted suddenly.

Jess jumped and looked up at two angry eyes watching her in the driver’s mirror.

“They should shoot him when they catch him,” he carried on. “Poor Tony didn’t deserve that. He’s one of the good guys.”

“Tony?” she asked. “Oh, you mean Anthony Harris?”

“He was a great bloke. I don’t know what’s happening to this bloody country. Things like that don’t happen here.”

Jess just nodded.

“The world’s gone mad. First that English woman is murdered, then Tony, then some gardener. What the bloody hell’s goin’ on, that’s what we all want to know. Here, in Brizzie, of all places. There’s probably a roadblock up ahead, lookin’ for the nutter. I bet that’s why we’re not movin’.”

Jess thought that highly unlikely but she understood his strength of feeling. Then she realised the taxi driver had called the Minister Tony. “Did you know Anthony Harris?” she asked.

The driver nodded. “Known him for years. He lives near us. His daughter and mine are on the same course at Brisbane Uni. That poor kid! She’ll be devastated about her dad. It’s a bloody tragedy for the family
and
for the rest of us.” Tirade over, he slumped back in his seat and stared morosely out of the window.

Jess did the same until her eyes focused on a café window…

That dark, wavy hair was unmistakable.

Frowning, she wound down the window to get a better look.

It
was
Nigel, sitting at a window table, engrossed in conversation with… Chen Xiamen.
Oh my God!
She shrank back into the taxi so they wouldn’t see her. What were they doing? How did they know each other? She tried to think, but she couldn’t come up with a rational explanation.

She reached for her mobile to call Sangster to tell him where Chen was. But what if Nigel’s meeting with Chen was above board? What if the British Government didn’t
want
the Australians to know about the meeting? What if Chen was passing information to the British Government? She needed to check with Simon and the High Commissioner.

First she called Simon and got his voicemail. “Call me back urgently, Simon,
Please.
” Frustration levels mounting, she called the High Commissioner and got his voicemail too. They were both still in meetings.

“
Come on! Get a bloody move on!
” The taxi driver shouting at the traffic only added to her jitters. She looked over at Nigel and Chen, then over her shoulder. Something was wrong. Very wrong. All she knew was she couldn’t stay in this taxi a minute longer. “I’ll walk the rest of the way,” she said to the driver. “It’ll be quicker.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, with obvious relief.

“Absolutely.” She pulled out her purse. “The Consulate-General’s just up the road.” She handed him the fare. “You can do a U-turn and get out of this traffic.”

“Thanks, doll,” he said, as he took the money and rammed the gear shift into drive. “Take care now. Mind you don’t run into that nutter.”

Clutching her bag and briefcase, she jumped out of the taxi, and rushed across the pavement, and through the iron gate into the city Botanic Gardens where no car could follow. There, she dodged behind a tree and waited to see if anyone followed her in. Heart pounding in her ears, she waited. No one.

She looked around. The railings bordered the main road all the way to the Consulate-General, which wasn’t far. Would she be safer walking down the street where there were cars and people, or inside the garden railings? Instinct made her decide to stay inside the gardens. She couldn’t forget the wheels of that bus this morning. Taking a deep breath, she started walking along the path in the direction of the Consulate-General. She could hear traffic noise behind the railings to her left; but to her right flowed Brisbane River. She looked over her shoulder. No one.

Relieved to be in the fresh air, she slowed down, but her mind was still buzzing. How did Nigel know Chen Xiamen? The LNG deal had nothing to do with the British Government or the British High Commission. What’s more, how did Nigel know how to contact Chen? Even the Queensland Police couldn’t find him. Nigel’s sickly face yesterday sprang into her mind, his obsession with the LNG deal at the talks, the way he suppressed that intelligence report. What did it all
mean?

Come on, Simon, ring!

Coming across a weeping fig tree, with extending branches providing a canopy of shade, she sat down on the seat underneath and looked out across Brisbane River. In the silence, she could feel her taut nerves jangling. A soft breeze from the water blew in her face. She sat very still, letting the peace wash over her until her body began to slow down. Soon, for the first time that day, she started to feel disconnected from all the madness around her. She felt safe sitting there, where no one knew where she was. But that peace wasn’t going to last.

Her mobile rang in her hand. “Simon?” she answered.

“It’s me, Jessica.”

“Oh hello, John.” She was relieved to hear Langhurst’s voice.

“You sound upset,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Oh, you know.” He sounded weary. “Still shell-shocked. And I was, well, I was worried about you.”

She was touched. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” she heard herself say.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Jessica. Really, I don’t.”

Hearing a soft rustling, she jerked her head round. No one there.

She looked across the river. The sun had gone down now and twilight was gathering pace. “It’s Susan
I’m
worried about,” she said. “She’s got Ellen’s diary; and the police need it for their investigation.”

There was a pause.

“Are you still with the police?” he asked.

“No, I’m on my way back to the Consulate-General to do some work.”

“They
are
looking after you though, aren’t they?”

Then she did what she always did when someone showed her any kindness or concern, she changed the subject: “Did you get to Canberra okay? she asked.

“Meetings. Meetings. All I ever seem to do is attend meetings.” He paused. “Jess, have you ever thought of leaving the Foreign Office? Working somewhere else… in business perhaps? I mean, don’t you want to settle down in one place? Make a good life somewhere. Travelling all the time must take its toll.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat. He could never guess the pain his words evoked. Her job had cost her everything she held most dear.

“We could do with someone like you on our team,” he went on, unaware. “Why don’t you come and work for Western Energy?”

Was he offering her a job?

He went on, quickly: “It would be a good position, with a good salary. In fact, I’d like you to work with me, I really would.”

She was speechless.

“Look, you don’t have to give me an answer now. Think about it. But don’t take too long.”

“I’m really flattered but…”

“
Think
about it,” he insisted. “Promise me you’ll do that.”

“Of course.”

“Good. You’re just like Ellen,” he said. “Smart. Unassuming. Never miss a trick.”

Jess was so surprised, she didn’t know what to say.

“Now, I’d better go and get ready,” he said.

“You’ve got the High Commissioner’s dinner tonight, haven’t you?”

“Duty calls.” He sounded weary again. “I’ll ring you tomorrow if I may, Jess.”

“Of course. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

“See you soon,” he said and hung up.

She sat staring at her phone. Amongst all the madness, she hadn’t expected to be offered a job. Now, replaying the conversation in her head, she realised he hadn’t been specific about what
kind
of job. She didn’t know much about the energy and resources sector, although she could always learn. Derek Marshall had said Langhurst wanted to go into politics. Now that was more her thing. Working for an Australian politician could be interesting, exciting even. And she did love Australia, so staying here would be great. No point getting carried away, she told herself, but it
was
flattering to be offered a job like that. Made her feel good about herself. Was that how he’d head-hunted Ellen Chambers in China, she wondered?

She closed her eyes and put her head back on the seat. She could hear the hum of traffic in the background and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was calming sitting there after such a bizarre day. In fact, it had been so frantic she hadn’t had much time to think about this special day.

“Happy birthday, darling,” she whispered, as her thoughts drifted back to Amy’s third birthday party in Jakarta, the last one they’d all spent together. She remembered the cake she’d baked. In her usual rush, she’d forgotten to add the baking powder and the cake had come out of the oven as flat as a pancake. Jack had ridden to the rescue and covered it with loads of marzipan and icing. And Amy and her little friends had stuffed it down like nectar.

Oh Jack!

Hearing that soft rustling again, she opened her eyes. At first, she thought the tree was full of birds. That is, until the squeaking started.

Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Bats!

Overhead, they hung from every branch of the tree, like ripe fruit. Wide awake, their eyes were watching her as they prepared to fly across the river for their night-time feed on native fig trees.

Flesh crawling, she leapt up and fled down the path.

Back in the Consulate-General, Jess sat rigid behind the desk in the early evening gloom. Nigel and Chen? Her head whirled. Nigel couldn’t be involved in corruption, could he? No, that didn’t make sense. She frowned. Of course Nigel would have known Anthony Harris. She remembered the little beads of sweat on Nigel’s forehead when they talked about Ellen Chambers’ murder yesterday morning. Was he telling the truth when he said he hadn’t known her? But even if he
had,
that still wouldn’t explain how he knew Chen Xiamen, and well enough to meet him in a back street café in Brisbane of all places.

She
had to
talk to Simon.

She phoned him again and got his voicemail. She phoned the High Commissioner’s mobile, and got his voicemail too.
This was ridiculous!
She was just about to ring Sharon when she heard the Consulate front door slam.

A chill shivered up her spine. It
had
to be Nigel. The staff had all gone home, and he was the only one with a key to let himself in.

As she waited in the semi-darkness, listening to every sound outside, her heart quickened.

Nigel appeared in the doorway, face ashen. His normally combed-back wavy hair hung limp over his forehead.

“Hello, Nigel,” she said, quietly.

He walked over to the Consul-General’s desk, as if he expected her to vacate it for him.

She didn’t move.

He stared at her, then sat down on the sofa. “You’d better tell me everything that’s happened since
you
arrived in Brisbane yesterday.”

The accusation in his voice, as if she were personally responsible for the madness, riled her.
He
was the one with some explaining to do. She fought to keep calm. Maybe there was a rational explanation for him meeting Chen? She had to give him the chance to tell her.

Taking a deep breath, she recounted everything that had happened since she landed in Brisbane in as factual a way as she could manage. She didn’t hold back about being followed from the airport, or about her room being searched, or about almost ending up under the wheels of a bus. But she did leave one thing out: seeing
him
with Chen in that café. She would wait. If he told her about it, she would know the meeting was above board and she could trust him again. “And that’s about it,” she said, watching his reaction.

Eyes guarded, he said nothing.

She could feel a gnawing anger inside, which surprised her. She hadn’t felt any emotion like it for a long time. But there it was bubbling away, like a seething volcano. “Have you anything to tell me, Nigel?” She heard the edge to her voice.

“Why should I? I’ve been in Canberra all the time?” He shook his head. “What a nightmare! First Ellen Chambers, then Tony Harris, and now this Danny Burton.”

She looked out of the window to hide the turmoil inside; he wasn’t going to tell her
anything
. Should she confront him? Then her stomach flipped.

Did he just call Anthony Harris
Tony
?

The penny dropped.
Of course!
That’s who he’d been talking to on the phone yesterday morning when she’d stood outside his office.
Christ, Tony… I can’t believe it.
What was it he’d said after? Something about handing over something
in confidence.

Oh my God!
She put her elbows on the desk and gave him a piercing look. “Tell me what’s going on, Nigel?”

His eyes bore into hers. “What are you talking about?”

She struggled to keep her voice under control. “I should have known the Federal Police had Ellen Chambers and Chen Xiamen under investigation for corruption before I set off from Canberra. And why didn’t you tell me about that intelligence report from our Embassy in Beijing?”

He took off his glasses and started rubbing the lenses.

“Had you seen it?” she asked.

Still nothing.

“Nigel?”

“I don’t have to answer to you,” he said, icily.

“You let me come up here to deal with a consular case and deliberately withheld the background. I have a right to know why.”

“I hadn’t read that report before you left. I wasn’t aware of its significance.” His voice was controlled, but he didn’t look at her.

Did he think she was completely stupid? “I think you
had
read it, Nigel. And you were well aware of its significance.
For God’s sake! Three people have been murdered!
”