Deadly Diplomacy (8 page)

“Of course.”

“The High Commissioner has been trying to call you, Jess. With all the brouhaha about the gas deal, he’s worried this consular case will be tricky. He said he would have flown direct to Brisbane from Perth to join you but he has to be back in Canberra for our Beloved Leader’s visit.”

Jess smiled. The High Commissioner would never refer to the Foreign Secretary as our Beloved Leader; not least, because they’d spent their careers in opposing political parties.

“Anyway,” Sharon went on, “he said he’ll leave things in your capable hands for the time being. But do call him… any time.”

“Right.” Jess wouldn’t hesitate to do that. Unlike Nigel, the High Commissioner had been a prominent UK politician before getting the Canberra job. He had nothing left to prove.

“Oh, and I’ve spoken to Inspector Sangster.” Sharon made a huffing noise. “He wants to see you as soon as you get there. It sounded more like a summons than a request to me. Anyway, I said you’d meet him in The Palms reception at 2pm. Hope that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.”

Sharon paused. “You know, Jess, he seems a bit of a… difficult character.”

Jess gave an exaggerated sigh. “What with the mysterious Susan Chambers and the imperious Inspector Sangster, it looks like I’m going to have to deploy all my diplomatic charm today.”

Sharon laughed. “By the way, Simon says to tell you Canberra are sending two Federal Agents to Brisbane to help with the murder investigation.”

“Are they now?” That must have something to do with the corruption allegations and that elusive intelligence report, she thought. But there was no point asking Sharon to get a look at it and report back. It would be highly classified. If the circulation hadn’t included her, Sharon wouldn’t have access to it either. But Jess had another idea. “Sharon, have a look through the electronic telegrams from London and Beijing over the last couple of months and see if there’s anything in the archive about Ellen Chambers, or a Chen Xiamen.”

“Who’s he?”

“The lead Chinese negotiator on the LNG contract with Western Energy.”

There was a pause. “What am I looking for, Jess?”

Jess hesitated, she couldn’t discuss it with Sharon on an open phone line. “I don’t know yet, but I’d like you to do a search.”

“Okay.” There was a pause. “Is everything all right, Jess, only… well, you sounded a bit strange when you answered?”

That grey jeep flashed into her mind again. “Everything’s fine, Sharon.”

“Good. Speak to you later then.”

“Right.” Jess hung up and started the engine again. Fine drops of water began misting the windscreen, and she turned on the wipers to clear it. Pulling out of the parking area, she slipped back into the stream of traffic. As she drove, the rain started to fall harder. She was relieved after a few more miles to see her exit sign. Signalling, she turned off the freeway, then slowed and checked her rear-view mirror to see if anyone had followed her off. No one. Satisfied, she drove through the underpass in the direction of the coast.

Two miles later, she turned left at a sign for The Palms resort and found herself driving along a narrow lane, with high hedges lining both sides. The misty rain had given way to a squall that seemed to have blown in from nowhere, blasting blinding rain onto the windscreen. Turning the wipers on full speed, she rubbed the inside of the windscreen with the back of her hand to clear the mist. The draught from the air conditioner blew into her face and up her skirt, chilling her.

Suddenly, blinding headlights came straight at her through the murk. She slammed her foot on the brake and yanked the steering wheel to the left. Tyres skidding on the wet surface, the car spun round and bumped up onto the grass verge, the under-tray dragging along the ground, until the car slithered to a stop in the hedge.

She sat for a moment, stunned. Pushing the gear into park, she flung open her door. “
Idiot!
” she shouted into the pouring rain.

But the other car had disappeared.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she got out to inspect the car for damage. She could see scratches etched into the paintwork on the bonnet and left wing by the hedge. She crouched down and checked under the car. Everything
looked
all right.

Soaking wet, she got back into the car and turned on the ignition. Relieved when the engine fired up, she reversed out of the hedge and off the grass verge. If she hadn’t reacted so quickly and swerved, that car would have hit her for sure. Was it that grey jeep again?

She pushed the gear into drive and continued down the lane. Nervous now, she kept checking her rear-view mirror. But there were no lights behind.

Finally, through her rain-smeared windscreen, she saw the hotel up ahead. Inching the car through the entry gates, she manoeuvred into a space in the car park and switched off the engine. She sat listening to the rain hammering on the roof. The storm’s red and purple sky gave an eerie glow. The wind swirled around, moaning and rocking the car gently, as if something was closing in on her.

She felt so alone.

Closing her eyes, she leant forward and rested her head on the steering wheel. Her head spun as she remembered the wild, scorching flames shooting up into the sky.

G’bye mummy!

Jess struggled through the hotel room door with her luggage and threw her handbag onto the bed. The room was great. All white and light, with the turquoise sea filling the window frame like a colourful oil painting. Everything looked so clean and elegant. Spirits lifted, she walked over to the window and gazed out at green lawns lined with magenta and purple bougainvillea. The squall had passed now, and the sea shimmered under the sun’s direct gaze.

Her eyes rested on a group of teenagers around the swimming pool. Lined up against the perimeter railings, they were taking it in turns to run across the wooden deck and cannonball into the water. Their infectious laughter made her smile. Everything seemed normal again after the storm and that idiot driving her off the road.

She pulled her mobile out of her pocket, and dialled Nigel’s direct line.

“
At last!
You took your time returning my call, Jessic
aah
.”

“I was driving. I’ve just got to The Palms.”

“She
is
Western Energy’s Ellen Chambers.” Nigel’s voice boomed in her ear. “I’ve talked to John Langhurst. He’s devastated of course. And he’s offered to help, so keep that in mind. And I’ve talked to Queensland’s Deputy Police Commissioner. You’ll need to keep in close touch with Inspector Sangster, he’s leading the investigation. Make sure you see him before anyone else.”

“I’ve got an appointment with him at 2pm.”

“You’ll need to see Susan Chambers this afternoon too. Have the media phoned?”

“Yes.”

“Simon’s handled them so far. You take over now. Do a press conference later. Make sure they know you’ve travelled from Canberra to assist the police and next of kin and…”

“Nigel,” she intervened. “If you’ve spoken to John Langhurst, you’ll know Ellen Chambers was in Brisbane to attend Western Energy’s Conference.”

“Yes. John Langhurst’s up there too. And CEO Richard Price.”

She bristled. So why didn’t he tell her that straightaway? Why did she have to drag every piece of information out of him?

“Now keep me informed, Jessic
aah
and…”

“Nigel…” She hesitated, wondering whether to ask him about that intelligence report on an open phone line.

“And don’t forget the Foreign Secretary’s here… By the book. Right?”

The phone went dead in her ear as he hung up.

Bloody man!
She stood staring at the phone, wondering whether to call him back. No, she’d ask Simon instead. She’d get more sense out of him… or would she? Nothing seemed certain any more.

Throwing her mobile on the bed, she shook out her clothes and hung them in the wardrobe. Catching sight of her bedraggled hair and damp skirt in the mirror, she picked up her wash bag and walked into the bathroom to tidy up after the soaking she’d got outside.

Ten minutes later, she stood in front of the dressing-table, touching up her make-up. She turned and looked about. There was something familiar about this hotel room. What was it? Then she spotted the gilt mirror on the wall by the bed. The fern leaf design on its ornate frame was exactly the same as the one in that hotel in Paris, with Jack, on their fifth wedding anniversary. That’s when he’d bought her the silver hair clasp. He’d never been one for celebrating birthdays or anniversaries, so that weekend had been a real surprise.

A special weekend, for my special girl, he’d said.

And it
had
turned out to be
very
special. He’d given her the best present of all in Paris…
Amy!

Jess pulled the photo of Jack and Amy out of her bag and placed it on the bedside cabinet.
Now
she felt better.

Slipping her laptop out of her briefcase, she laid it on the desk by the window, powered it up and connected to the hotel wireless internet. Simon’s media lines popped up in her inbox. She skimmed through, and downloaded them onto her memory stick. Logging off, she picked up her bag and mobile and hurried out of the door to get a copy printed in the business centre on the ground floor.

At the end of the corridor, she pressed the button for the lifts and waited. But they seemed stuck on the ground floor. Impatient to get on, she swung through the stairwell door and ran down the stairs, rehearsing the press lines over and over in her head.

Distracted, she pushed through what she thought was the door to the ground floor.

“Stop right there!” A deep voice halted her in her tracks.

She froze.

A man in a grey suit glared at her. “Didn’t you see the
sign
?”

Turning, she saw a police Do Not Enter sign by the door.
Oh God!
She’d blundered into a cordoned off corridor. “I’m sorry.” She looked back into steely grey eyes, “I thought this was the ground floor.”

“Please leave.” The man turned his back on her while the other officers looked on.

“Can I just introduce…”

“
Ma’am
.” He spun round. “This is a crime scene.
Please leave
.” He clapped his hands. “Come on guys,” he said to a group of policemen who stood staring at her, “back to work.”

Watching him disappear into one of the bedrooms, Jess knew instantly it was Ellen Chambers’ room. Much as she wanted to talk to the police, Jess knew this wasn’t the time. Turning, she went back through the door, and bumped straight into a small Asian woman on the stairs. “Oh, sorry.”

“He rude.” The woman jerked her head at the door.

Jess looked at the woman. With her neatly-tied long, black hair and blue uniform, she had to be a cleaner.

“I find this.” The woman stood, nervous, gripping something with both hands. “In dead woman room.”

It looked like a diary to Jess. “You’d better give it to the police.”

But the woman pushed the diary at her. “I clean room this morning before I know she dead.”

“The police,” Jess said, slowly, while pointing at the door. “Give it to the police.”

“I take spare blanket out top of wardrobe to change. When I get to laundry I find this inside.” The woman shoved the diary into Jess’s hands. “I no want trouble.” And she darted up the stairs.

“Hey, wait,” Jess shouted after her. But the woman had already disappeared through the stairwell door on the next floor. Jess could hardly blame her for running off, after the blast she’d just got from that oaf. She was about to go back through the door and give him the diary when she stopped. Did she really want to give him another chance to be rude to her? Glancing at her watch, she saw it was 1.30pm. In half an hour she had an appointment with Inspector Sangster. She’d give it to him instead.

Mind made up, she tucked the diary in her bag and walked down the stairs to the ground floor.

*

Collecting a copy of the press lines, Jess walked out of the business centre and into the lobby. She could have been in an up-market hotel in any Western city. Grey marble covered the floor and pillars, and a decorative fireplace stood at the far end, with several plump-cushioned sofas and chairs scattered around for guests to sink into. Sitting down at a glass-topped table, she scanned the faces looking for Susan Chambers. Ellen had looked slim and attractive in that newspaper photo, with shoulder-length blonde hair. Would Susan look like her sister?

Behind the wood-panelled desk, a receptionist was checking-in a group of noisy Indonesian tourists. She looked miserable. All the staff did. They kept giving each other nervous glances, and huddling in groups to chat whenever they got the chance. Jess could feel the tension. Hardly surprising since a guest had been viciously murdered in the grounds, and the police were swarming all over.

As she sat observing, goose bumps rose on her arms. She felt a presence, as if someone was watching her. She looked up, but couldn’t see anyone particularly interested in her. Uneasy, she pulled out her mobile and dialled Simon. His phone switched to voicemail. “I’m at The Palms, Simon. Call me back please.”

She looked around again and rubbed her arms to get rid of the chill. Sitting there idly, she remembered the diary in her bag. She pulled it out and laid it on the table. The cover was made of red leather, with the year in gold lettering. It looked expensive. Opening the front cover, she saw Ellen Chambers’ name and contact details written by hand. Jess hesitated. It seemed wrong to delve into Ellen’s personal diary, macabre even, given the circumstances. But she was so drawn to it, she couldn’t help but flick through the pages.

The first thing she noticed was Ellen’s neat and legible handwriting. Every one of her appointments had a precise name, with contact details and meeting venue recorded next to the date and time. Ellen Chambers had been a highly organised woman, she thought. Nothing had been left to memory or chance. Reading on, Jess saw that Ellen had spent alternate months in the UK and Australia since the beginning of the year. And she’d visited Beijing at the end of March and… oh, that was interesting, she’d only just returned from a second trip to Beijing.