Half Moon Bay (21 page)

‘Dan must be so proud of you too.’

‘He’s not proud. He’s terrified.’

‘Of O’Sullivan?’

‘No. Whoever’s behind the smuggling operation. The two things have to be connected and he’s scared that someone will find out I’m involved. When Nina started asking questions he told me not to help her, but how could I say no?’

‘Nina?’

‘Yeah.’ Felicity looked at her. ‘You really didn’t know what she was working on when she was killed?’

‘No. She only told me it was an international money-laundering operation, possibly involving heroin smuggling, with Australian connections. She said she’d explain when we met up again in Kandahar.’

‘Oh, Ellie. I’m sorry. I thought you’d chosen not to investigate the story. If I’d realised . . .’

‘I couldn’t face it, Flick. Whatever it was that made Nina go out that night had cost a man his life. Left his children without a father. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t . . .’ She choked on the words and tried again. ‘I didn’t want to cause that man’s family any more pain. I heard the whispers amongst the army guys. At the time I thought they meant Nina had been sleeping with him. You know what she was like. How could I throw it in a widow’s face? I couldn’t. It was Nina’s story and I was so hell-bent on getting her out of there. Once I did I never wanted to go back . . .’

Ellie sat back and Felicity looked at her hands. ‘I don’t blame you.’

‘And Dad was mad with grief. I couldn’t do it to him either. I couldn’t do it then but I intend to finish this off now.’

‘Then what else can I help you with?’

‘I have some photos, black and whites, that Nina must have taken the night she was shot. I’ve identified two people in them. Maybe you’ll know some more of them.’

‘I’ll drop around this afternoon.’ Felicity stood up. ‘I’m glad you know now. I felt awful keeping a secret that big from you, but the fewer people who knew, the better. Dan’s only just told me he’d figured it out. He’s pretty pissed off with me for not telling him. He went down the wharf this morning to secure the boat, then the SES called in all volunteers. He’s in the swift-water team. I don’t know when he’ll be home again. He’s not answering my calls.’

‘He’ll come round.’

‘I hope so. I love him so much it hurts.’ She was clearly fighting back tears and changed the topic. ‘Have you heard from Alex since he flounced off in his Porsche?’

‘We’ve been playing phone tag, but it’s not like I’ve had time to try too hard. But I think he knows more than he’s letting on as well. Secrets everywhere I turn. He reckons Nick was in the army in Afghanistan but I don’t know the time frame.’

‘Really? Have you asked him?’

‘Not yet. I guess I want to double-check the facts myself.’

‘Hmm.’ Felicity didn’t look convinced.

‘Another cuppa, girls?’ Mavis rejoined them with a pile of folded laundry.

Felicity looked at her watch. ‘No, thanks, Mavis. It’s almost nine o’clock. Time for tuckshop duties. They didn’t close the school today. Got to run.’ She pecked Ellie on the cheek. ‘You stay in touch, even if it’s just a text to let me know you’re fine.’

Ellie walked out with Felicity and collected her camera bag from the car. She still had some photos from the rally at the Bowls Club to download. Back in the kitchen she attached the camera to her computer, listening to the rise and fall of the conversation between Mavis and Ron out in the back undercover area.

She laid out her cleaning gear and an airbrush. Right now she needed to keep busy. As she turned a telephoto lens over in her hands, it reminded her of one assignment when she was fussing over her cameras, sat side by side with a group of American soldiers as they stripped and cleaned their guns. Nina had been flirting as usual. ‘You’re armed and just as dangerous as these guys,’ her sister said. ‘Only difference is your weapon’s a camera.’ It had unsettled Ellie even as she acknowledged Nina was correct. Up until now she’d never imagined that a photo could result in death.

Her phone rang, startling her.

‘Hey, Flick, what did you forget?’

‘They’ve taken them, they’ve taken Mikey and Sarah!’ Felicity’s voice broke, her harsh sobs cutting into Ellie.

‘What? Where are you?’ Ellie was on her feet.

‘I’m at school. They didn’t make it. One of the other kids said a white car picked them up a block from here.’

‘Have you rung the police?’ Ellie’s voice was measured as she tried to slow Felicity’s stream of words.

‘Yes, yes, Bob’s on his way here now. I’m with the principal, but I can’t contact Dan. The phone’s diverting. Ellie . . .’ Felicity’s words trailed off in a wail. ‘I can’t . . .’

‘Hang in there, Felicity. I’m coming. I’ll be there in five. We’ll find them.’ She disconnected the call then redialled, packing her gear away with hands that fumbled, her brain racing.

‘Hi, Ellie.’

‘Nick, thank God. They’ve abducted Sarah and Mikey. You’ve got to help.’

‘Who?’

Ellie stamped her foot. ‘Felicity’s kids. They’re six – gorgeous, innocent six-year-old twins.’

‘Any demands, ransoms? Any contact since? You sure it wasn’t their dad?’

‘No! Nothing! He’s helping out with the SES!’

‘Okay, okay. Don’t bite my head off. Where’s Felicity?’

‘At school. I’m heading there as well. She can’t get hold of Dan.’

‘Right. I’ve just pulled up outside Ron’s house. I’ll drive you.’

‘Outside? Here?’

‘Yes.’

The phone went dead and she wiped a trail of tears from her cheeks. The front door banged open and Nick strode into the room, filling the space with angry energy. Ron and Mavis came from the other direction. It took Ellie a couple of minutes to fill them in as well. She was impatient to go. Felicity needed her.

As she clicked the seatbelt into place she looked at Nick. ‘Alex warned me about this. Damn him for always being right.’

Nick scowled. ‘What? When?’

‘Alex warned me that they might target other people, not just me. The night he met O’Sullivan for social drinks. You were there too, weren’t you?’

‘Did he now? Did he indeed?’ He drove with one hand, thumbing through his mobile. Numb, Ellie watched the rain pelting down, the gutters overflowing with water. It felt as though even Half Moon Bay was weeping for the twins.

‘Hi, it’s me. We’ve got a problem. They may have snatched two kids. Yeah, I know, but that’s not the point. I’ll give you the details.’ He snapped his fingers to get Ellie’s attention. ‘Their names are?’

‘Sarah and Michael Samson.’

He repeated the names into the phone. ‘Hang on. I’ll put Ellie Wilding on. Yes, I know, but we got them into this mess, so we’ll be getting them out.’ He thrust the phone at Ellie, who took it tentatively. ‘Give him a description. He’s my boss.’

‘Hi. They’re blond twins. Sarah’s missing a bottom front tooth. They’re both suntanned, on the skinny side, all knees and elbows. The school uniform is a blue polo shirt and grey shorts. And they have blue school backpacks.’ Ellie thought for anything else distinctive. Shoes! She’d seen discarded sneakers at the front door. ‘And training shoes, white ones with pink laces for Sarah. Mikey’s were plain grey.’ She ran out of words and Nick took the phone. They were a few minutes away from the school.

‘Got all that?’ Nick asked his boss. ‘Okay, I’ll be in touch.’ He closed the phone. ‘They’re on high alert. I guess we know they can’t have got too far.’

‘Unless they have a boat,’ she replied.

‘Shit. A trawler?’

‘Don’t even go there.’ Ellie turned her head away, her heart thumping in her chest.

‘They’ll start to backtrack through the phone taps and surveillance tapes to see what they can find. I’ll drop you off at the school.’

‘No way.’ She glared at him. ‘I’ll see Felicity, then I’m coming with you. You owe me the truth.’

‘Okay, but just do what I tell you. No arguments. You could jeopardise them by taking off on one of your tangents. You understand?’

‘I understand we’re sitting here arguing and two beautiful children are in danger. Is that good enough?’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘You’re right. Let’s go.’

Three hours later, they’d still heard nothing. A Child Abduction Alert had been initiated immediately by the police, but still there were no confirmed sightings. Felicity, with a sodden hanky wrapped in her fist, huddled in a chair beside the principal’s desk. She was shaking despite the blanket draped around her shoulders. Several half-drunk cups of coffee were leaving rings on the polished timber, a tray of sandwiches curled at the edges. Through the glass panel in the door Ellie could see Nick prowling up and down the corridor with his phone glued to his ear. She knew words were inadequate but she had to try.

‘Flick, we’ll find them. Someone will have seen something. Everyone’s out searching now. They’re probably safe and sound with someone right now and with the floods they can’t get them back to you.’

‘Ellie, I’m terrified. I want Dan here, but he’s going to say it’s my fault and he’s right. Why did I think there’d be no repercussions? Nothing’s safe in this world. Nothing . . .’ She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking on the chair, tears flooding down her cheeks again. Ellie crouched in front of her.

‘Felicity, look at me. This isn’t your fault and there’s no way Dan will blame you for it. He’ll want to kill whoever’s done it, but it’s not your fault. You need to stay positive, stay focused. We’ll get them back.’

A helicopter came in low over the school and landed on the oval, drowning out Ellie’s words. Both women raised hopeful eyes to the window, but the chopper was out of sight.

Nick opened the door. ‘Ellie, you got a moment?’ He jerked his head towards the corridor and she followed him outside. She couldn’t read his expression.

‘What’s up?’

‘Dan’s here. I sent the chopper to fly him back.’

‘Oh, Nick . . .’ Ellie’s eyes burnt. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s the least I can do.’

Urgent footsteps echoed in the hallway. A tall rangy man in SES overalls and waterproofs, his boots thumping on the floor, moved towards them.

‘Ellie – where is she?’ The normally laconic fisherman wasn’t smiling. Nor was he stopping for idle chit chat.

‘In there.’ Ellie yanked the door open.

‘Dan?’ Felicity tried to stand, the blanket catching on the chair, and she stumbled.

‘Flick, oh baby, baby. I’m sorry.’ Dan hauled his wife into his arms, crushing her against his chest, cradling her head to his shoulder. Ellie turned away and closed the door. The sight of her friends sobbing against each other made her own tears run. It wasn’t fair. Two good people, a family torn apart. Again.

‘Get the bastards.’ She turned her anger on Nick. ‘Whatever it takes. Whatever we have to do.’

‘We’re working on it.’ He tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, his hand lingering an instant. It made her shiver. ‘We’ll find them.’ His phone rang. ‘Lawson.’ He listened for a minute. ‘Okay. I’ll make some inquiries here. Call you back in ten.’ He tapped the phone on his hand.

‘So?’

‘So, there’s nothing on any surveillance tapes. CCTV hasn’t made it to the Bay. There’s only one small lead. On a phone tap a couple of hours ago there was mention of “locking the angels in the playpen”. The conversation was between Jason O’Sullivan and an unknown male who sounds young and scared. It’s all we’ve got. If the kids are the angels, then where the hell’s the playpen?’

Ellie gasped. Where had she heard that term recently?

Alex knew his shirt stank of stale sweat but he didn’t dare use his credit cards, and he was almost out of cash. Food and shelter was more important than clothes right now. The pub in the middle of The Rocks had a steady trickle of city workers and tourists through the door. It also had free wi-fi and cheap lunches. His spare laptop had almost finished charging. A half-drunk beer and the remains of a steak and kidney pie filled the rest of his table.

He pressed his fingers into the soft spot at the base of his skull. He’d been on the run since he slipped out the window and over his neighbour’s fence in the clothes he was standing in. From there he’d gone straight to the office and emailed all his files to an online storage facility, then erased the contents from his hard drive. If they wanted information, they were going to have to work for it. Several other staff members on the night shift saw him and asked after Teisha. He could only shrug and look concerned. No pretence was required. God knows what was happening to her. He retrieved his small laptop from the bottom drawer, along with a note pad and pen, then found a plastic bag in the tearoom. He headed downstairs, feeling disoriented.

The security guy on the front desk had stopped him as he left. ‘Alex, did that guy catch up with you?’

‘What guy?’ he asked, heat flooding his body.

‘Middle-aged, grey hair . . .’ The guard consulted a piece of scrap paper. ‘Lachlan Meriden. Said you used to work for him.’

‘Is that right. What time was this?’

‘Five-thirty. Said he’d call you at home.’

‘Must have missed me, but thanks for letting me know.’

‘No worries. Happy to help.’

‘Yeah, cheers. See you tomorrow.’ Alex waved as he left. That, he knew, wasn’t going to happen. His life as a respected journalist was finished.

He’d spent the night in a youth hostel, keeping to himself. As the rays of the rising sun touched the flagpole on the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge he’d let himself out the front door and started walking. Eventually he ended up here, at The Rocks.

He squinted at the computer screen again. It was all there. He just needed to . . .

The front door of the pub opened with a bang and he jerked in his seat. A group of what looked like English football fans crowded in – shaved heads, coloured jerseys and a defiant showing of tatts. Alex shoved his phone in his pocket, getting ready to run, but they flooded around the tables, ignoring the other customers, and made their way to the rear where several giant screens were showing pay-TV sport from Europe.

Alex relaxed and scratched his wrist, feeling the raised welts of eczema. His nerves couldn’t be any more frayed. Time to finish it. He’d spent the morning typing up an account of the whole sorry saga from the first conversation with Nina almost three years ago to last night’s break-in. He skimmed through it again, pausing to read paragraphs as he went.

And, Alex knew, the ever-congenial Phil Ah Tak had an army of enforcers who ensured his business empire had become the dominant player in Hong Kong. Alex didn’t bother putting that in the report. ASIO, ASIS, MI6 and no doubt the Yanks were all aware of Mr Ah Tak.

He carried on reading over his report.

He puffed out his cheeks. It sounded grubby and pathetic now it was written down. He’d been party to the cover-up of a friend’s cold-blooded murder. He didn’t doubt Nina had been taken out because she was too close. He now firmly believed Teisha was nothing more than a pawn who’d been sent to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t go looking again.

Lachlan Meriden was the Australian contact. He knew it with complete certainty, but as yet he lacked the evidence. Was that proof in Nina’s computer? He might never find out now. It was up to Ellie. And his contacts in the police and Customs, plus anyone else they chose to co-opt into the investigation. He’d named names, places and bank accounts in his exposé. He was paying the price for his Judas money although absolution may well be a long time coming.

He tipped his chair back on two legs. The waitress cleared his table. ‘You want another one?’ she asked, pointing at the now flat beer.

‘No, thanks. I’m done.’ He’d outstayed his welcome. He copied the file to a memory stick and closed the laptop. Time to move again. He packed his computer into the plastic bag and finished the warm beer. Who knew when he’d have another one?

Stopping for a moment outside the pub, he adjusted his eyes to the bright light. The wind howling up the slope from Sydney Harbour didn’t stop for his thin shirt. He’d need to find a coat soon. Fear and endorphins had kept him warm last night. His $147 wasn’t going to stretch much further. As he ambled up the street he kept an erratic pace. Didn’t look like anyone was following him.

Passing a newsagency, Alex did a double-take. The headline N
ORTHERN
NSW U
NDERWATER
screamed from above an aerial shot of Yamba marooned in muddy waters. ‘Bloody hell,’ he swore. Had Ellie even received his email?

Resigned, he moved on. He’d done the best he could. The only way to keep her safe was to go to the authorities. When he stole Nina’s laptop from Half Moon Bay he knew there was a risk. At the time it seemed justifiable and prudent. He felt sanctimonious, then remembered he’d tried to access the information on it. The security codes defeated him. Then, when more money turned up in his account, he figured he needed a back-up plan. He was sure Ellie had forgotten the post office box the three of them shared. It had been Nina’s idea one drunken evening at a student party when conspiracy theories abounded. He was pretty sure she was the only one who’d used it, but the three of them were joint signatories ‘just in case fate comes calling’. Stashing Nina’s computer in it was his insurance policy for that day.

Stopped at traffic lights, he looked up at the glass and steel towers around him. Funny how he’d always imagined he’d be a grizzled journalist when and if that day came, with a long, distinguished career behind him and a comfortable retirement ahead of him. The sting in Kandahar would be an anecdote that he could deny being involved in with a wink and a tap to the side of his nose. A story that slipped into journalism folklore – How Nina Wilding died setting up a two-million-dollar drug deal.

He sighed. Instead here he was feeling sick and sad, on the run from a madman. He didn’t doubt Teisha was dead and she didn’t deserve that. With her finger as proof he knew it wouldn’t have been clean. Fucking Meriden would find it was a whole lot harder to threaten a man who’d already lost everything.

The lights changed and he stepped out. Keep moving. He was meeting a contact in Customs at three-thirty at Rossini’s to hand over everything he knew. He breathed in the tang of salt in the air and the heavy undertone of diesel mixed with the scent of the crowd. Women dressed in casual chic in a cloud of Chanel, men in suits and aftershave, tourists with sunscreen, and sweet ice-cream dripping from sticky fingers. A train rattled into Circular Quay, the giant steel framework of the station reverberating. Behind him the rumble of traffic crossing Sydney Harbour Bridge gave a bass note to the buskers singing Aussie bush ballads.

Alive and free, for now. He walked past a didgeridoo player and pulled the loose change from his pocket. A one-dollar coin spun for an instant as it landed on the man’s blanket, then fell flat. It felt like an analogy for the last two days. Tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be.