The Tower (19 page)

Troy decided not to put this in the statement.

‘Go on,' he said.

‘I tripped and slid down to the floor. One of them comes and starts searching me, I'm trying to fight him off. Feeling a bit strange. Have you ever been shot?'

‘Keep going,' Troy said.

‘The other one's looking at the lift buttons, but they know that without a pass they can't get a lift to come up there. They're talking to each other, once they realise I don't have a pass, deeply pissed off. Suddenly they're gone, I'm alone. I'm freezing. Maybe I blacked out for a few seconds—I think I did. I try to use my phone, get up and stagger around. I have no idea what I'm doing by that point. And then I meet you and we do our little dance.'

When the interview was over, McIver asked about the state of the investigation. Troy gave him a summary. When he'd finished, McIver just grunted. He was slumped against the pillows now, as though exhausted.

Troy said, ‘Who's Bill Conti?'

McIver opened his eyes. ‘He was my boss for a while, years ago. Very clever bloke. Have you met him?'

‘He had a reputation?'

‘Got caught up in some stuff in the early eighties, when it was hard not to. Bad luck, definitely not the sort of thing you need. They kept the reins on him afterwards.'

‘Stuff?'

‘He fell off the perch in the end. Had a pretty wife as I recall.'

‘Has a pretty daughter, too.'

Troy went over to the window, pulled out his phone. He called Stone and, miraculously, got through to him.

The sergeant sounded upset. ‘I thought you were going to stay in the office.'

‘We needed Mac to look at the pictures this morning,' Troy said.

‘It's a priority.'

‘The others are out at Villawood?'

Troy told Stone what they were doing, and the sergeant swore. When he'd finished he asked about McIver. As Troy explained Mac's response to the photos, he looked at the sergeant on the bed. He had opened one of the manila folders Troy had brought, and was staring at the photos of the victim.

Stone said to Troy, ‘We need to go back over what we know. Confirm there were only twenty-one men living down there. We've been assuming that, but what if there were more? What if your two were part of that mob?'

Troy rubbed his forehead, finding it hard to believe Stone had not had this checked before. He said, ‘That's a good idea.'

‘Mind you, the men we caught all say there were only twenty-one,' said Stone. ‘And the man you shot was dressed differently.'

‘They could be lying.' It was something a detective learned early: everyone lies.

‘Get onto Little,' said Stone. ‘Check the bedding, see how many toothbrushes we got.'

‘Okay.'

‘And another thing. I've had some trouble getting around the site. Go and see that bloke Randall, will you? Tell him what we're doing. We need him on side.'

‘I thought you were doing that sort of thing.'

‘Just fucking do it, will you? Why does everything with you have to be so hard?'

He disconnected and Troy pulled out a piece of gum, slowly put it in his mouth.

McIver said, ‘Haven't got much to go on, have you? No victim ID, no suspect, almost no physical evidence. I hope this Sergeant Brad Stone is good.'

‘I hope so too.'

‘Is he good?'

Troy gave this question the attention it deserved. Then he sat down and described Sergeant Brad Stone.

When he'd finished, McIver shook his head.

‘For her to compromise a murder investigation like this—' Troy began, but McIver interrupted.

‘She'll be doing someone a favour. The situation she's in, she might not have any alternative.'

Troy didn't care about the politics. ‘You once said Kelly doesn't have an appreciation of homicide.'

McIver stared at him, but Troy could see he was thinking of something else entirely.

The sergeant said, ‘You've got to give Stone some leeway. Maybe he is acting strangely, but who knows what he's been through? It must be like coming back from a war.'

Troy said, ‘He has my complete sympathy. But if he's so fragile, why's he running a homicide investigation? Kelly's not stupid.'

‘You're going round in circles,' McIver said impatiently. ‘Our lot are probably doing a favour for the feds or the Victorians. Kelly says she'll play her part, she gets locked in, and then this investigation comes out of nowhere, she hasn't got enough staff to give her the options she'd like. It's bullshit but it happens.'

Troy realised Kelly must have told McIver much of this when she saw him earlier. Got him on side.

‘This is speculation on your part?' he said.

‘The reason hierarchies were invented was because one person can't know everything,' McIver said. ‘There's just too much to know. We specialise in murder, Kelly specialises in politics. She's done okay by us these last few days.'

Troy said, ‘She was prepared to cut you loose if it came to it.'

‘You don't know that.'

‘I do.'

McIver stared at him intently, as though listening to his own heartbeat. For a while, nothing was said. ‘Well, well,' he murmured at last. ‘You're sure?'

‘Yes.'

‘I told you it was dangerous to go into hospital.' With a shrug he took a few magazines from the top of the dresser next to the bed and began flicking through them one by one.

Troy thought about Kelly and Stone. He didn't want to believe what McIver was saying, but perhaps that was only because of the limits of his own experience.

McIver said. ‘Pass me that
Dolly
, will you?'

Troy saw that when he'd cleared the chair he'd dropped one of the magazines on the floor. He bent down and retrieved it. McIver snatched the magazine and began to go through it, stopping about halfway. He opened the manila folder on the bed and peered at one of the photos inside, then smiled widely and held up the magazine.

‘ “
Tattoos of the rich and famous
”,' he said, reading a headline. He held up the magazine. ‘Recognise anything?'

There was a double-page spread of photos of tattoos on celebrities' bodies. One was of a young woman, taken from behind. She was wearing low-cut jeans and appeared to be pulling on a shirt at the beach. The tattoo just above the jeans was clearly visible: a dolphin, jumping out of the water.

‘ “
Margot Teresi
”,' McIver read out loud, ‘ “
Australia's fifth-richest
woman. Seen displaying her dolphin at Tamarama Beach
.” '

Troy grabbed the magazine and read the words for himself.

‘Margot Teresi,' he said slowly, savouring the name.

‘Do you think she was any relation to Tony Teresi?'

It was a game McIver liked to play.

‘The bloke who started The Tower?' said Troy.

‘Yeah.'

‘Probably not.'

McIver lay back, his good arm behind his head.

‘Kelly wants me to take a few weeks to recuperate,' he said. ‘But I figure on being back soon.' His face brightened and he smiled broadly. ‘Let's face it, without me, you're all helpless.'

Sixteen

T
he project office of Warton Constructions was on Norfolk Street, above a branch of Westpac Bank. Troy had come to see what more Sean Randall could tell them about The Tower's security arrangements. Randall greeted Troy in the lobby on the second floor, where two men in bright green polo shirts were waiting in plastic chairs. There was no bandage around Randall's head today, and his wound appeared much less serious than it had the other night. He took Troy through to his office and led him over to a large window with a view of one of the lowest floors of The Tower. In the street below Troy could see two television crews, filming the entrance to the building site. He looked up, taking in the decorative stonework and the tinted glass.

‘Inspiring view,' he said, as Randall showed him to some easy chairs and a secretary took his order for coffee. He wasn't just being polite.

‘I try not to look at it too much,' Randall said. He had a leg over the side of the chair and looked comfortable and competent. Different from the other night. ‘It's kind of frustrating. I'm an engineer, I like building things. But if you want to become a senior project manager with Warton, you have to do a few years at everything. Like security.'

He scratched the little beard beneath his lower lip. ‘At the moment, I can't say I'm enjoying it.'

He smiled and Troy liked his honesty. Despite the sentiment Randall had just expressed, there was still a certain sense of ease about him. Troy had noticed this before in people whose careers brought them into contact with inanimate objects a lot.

‘The job was going okay until now?'

Randall nodded. ‘The most exciting event I've had was the base jumpers. I thought I might get the sack then, but it worked out all right.' He studied Troy for a moment, as though wondering whether to be frank, and then plunged in. ‘We were actually pretty unhappy with the security company we had at the time. It belonged to Tony Teresi, the first owner of the project.'

Troy took care not to react at the mention of the name. He'd told Stone about McIver's possible identification of the victim, and they'd decided to keep the information to themselves for the moment. ‘Couldn't you sack them after Teresi sold the project?' he said.

‘We were locked into a contract. The base-jumping incident breached their performance agreement and gave us cause to terminate, which was good. Fortunately for me, I was the one who spotted that.'

He smiled, as though the memory was still a happy one.

‘So then you hired the new company?'

‘Tryon Security. They've been fine. Until now.' Randall shook his head. ‘I actually got Bazzi the job with them—he'd been with the old lot and he was the only manager there who saw what was going on. It's weird to think he's betrayed me like this. You got any word on him?'

‘He's disappeared. Asaad too.'

‘You think they've left the country?'

‘It's possible. Tryon would have done background checks before they took them on?'

Randall nodded and sighed. ‘That guy in the
Herald
this morning, saying how could we have had twenty people living in the building without knowing about it. They've got no idea of the scale of this place.' Troy nodded. ‘Bazzi was given a promotion when he first came on board at Tryon, but they dropped him back after a few months. He came to see me about it, said there was no reason. Maybe he got upset and went on the take.'

Troy had his notebook out. ‘Did they ever check the floors down below? The empty ones?'

‘Once a month. We're not stupid, but you have to rely on your own people. This thing with Bazzi, it's—it's like one of those moles in the secret service, isn't it? Very hard to spot unless you're looking.'

Troy saw where this was going. ‘Don't tell me—'

‘Bazzi did the lower car park checks the last two months.'

‘Alone?'

‘With Asaad.'

There was a knock on the door and the secretary reappeared with a tray. She put cups of coffee on the low table between the two men. Troy couldn't help looking at her as she bent over, her red skirt tightening.

After she'd left the room Randall laughed. ‘Like what you see?'

‘She's all yours?'

‘We had a thing. But there's too many beautiful women in this city to stop at one.'

‘I'm married,' Troy said. His voice sounded a little strained even to his own ears.

‘I was married too. Everyone should do it once.' Randall laughed. ‘If I'd been prepared to be unfaithful, I might still be married.'

‘You reckon?'

‘Maybe. Funny how things turn out.' He'd put both his feet on the floor and was leaning forward.

Troy said, ‘Tell me about Teresi's security company.'

‘His daughter ran it, actually.'

Troy concentrated on his coffee. ‘His daughter?' he said.

‘Margot. Attractive brunette, mid-twenties. I had some meetings with her when we were trying to change the contract. She wanted more money. I said it's not about money—we're paying you plenty—it's about performance.'

‘What was she like to deal with?' Troy said, trying to keep the interest out of his voice.

‘Tough, but not really effective. She had all her old man's aggro, but the shrewdness wasn't there. I heard she wasn't all that interested in the family business, but Tony insisted. I got the impression she just came into work a few hours a day and yelled at people.'

Troy didn't want to linger on Margot Teresi in case Randall noticed his curiosity, but he must have stayed with it a second too long, for just as he was about to change the subject, Randall straightened up. His eyes lit up and Troy saw he'd got it.

‘My God,' said the engineer. ‘It's her, isn't it?'

Troy's heart sunk. ‘Why would you say that?'

‘Jesus Christ.'

‘Did you see the body last night?'

Randall shook his head. Inwardly cursing himself, Troy said it might be Margot Teresi, it was one of the possibilities they were looking into. ‘Don't tell anyone,' he said. ‘We haven't confirmed it. Haven't done the death message yet.'

‘The what?'

‘We haven't talked to her family.'

Randall nodded, looking at Troy with keen eyes. ‘Hell of a job you've got, isn't it?'

Before Troy could answer, Randall's gaze slid off to the wall and the energy suddenly left him. It was as though some transforming revelation had struck him. Sinking into his chair again, he whispered, ‘I've had it.'

‘What?'

‘Margot Teresi. I mean, the poor woman—but Jesus, the publicity's going to be huge. Morning Star will need to show they're responding. Sacking me will be part of that. It's the way it goes.'