White Gold (11 page)

Dan angled the lamp’s beam so it avoided the blinds on the windows. He sat down in the chair behind the desk. The seat swallowed his tall athletic body, creating a sudden awareness of the sheer enormity and power of Delaney.

He glanced across the room at Sarah. She turned documents over, frowning and then photographing the occasional page if it warranted further investigation. He smiled to himself. Sarah hadn’t asked him how he’d known how to break into the room, which was just as well – he wasn’t sure himself how that had happened so easily – but he was happy to take advantage of a bit of luck every now and then.

He looked back down at the desk surface, reached out and ran his fingers along the dark mahogany wood.

He pushed the chair away from the desk – three drawers were fitted on each side, with ornate metal handles protruding from the wood. He started on the left-hand side. He held the handle of the top drawer between his finger and thumb and tugged it gently.
Locked
. He repeated the process with the remaining two drawers and then turned to his right and began again. All were locked.

Dan slouched back in the chair, thinking hard. He glared at the desk. Then he saw something. He slid off the chair. A thick rug covered the carpet under the desk and chair to prevent it being worn through. He knelt on it and peered at the desk more closely.

Then he grinned. Poking out between the surface of the desk and the lip of the top drawer was the corner edge of a slip of paper. He raised his head above the surface of the desk and called gently.

‘Sarah?’

‘Hmmm?’

‘How long are your fingernails?’

She stopped, a document turned halfway in her hand, and glanced round to look at him. ‘What?’

‘Come and see this. I need your help.’

He ducked back behind the desk. He looked up as Sarah joined him, then pointed to the corner of the page protruding from the desk. ‘Can you get that?’

Sarah crouched down beside him. ‘I can have a go. Move over a bit.’

Dan shuffled out of the way. He watched as Sarah raised her hand and put her finger and thumb on each side of the sliver of paper. She paused. Dan held his breath.

Slowly, Sarah increased the pressure against the page and carefully began to pull it towards her. It stuck, momentarily, until Sarah moved it slowly left and right to free it. With a final tug, she pulled the document loose, sat back on her heels and then looked at Dan.

He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Well done. Let’s have a look.’

Sarah turned the page over and showed him. It was off-white in colour with small puncture holes running along both sides. He could make out faint red lines crossing the page. He took it from Sarah and read the entries written on the page. He frowned then glanced up at the company logo and details at the top of the document. He eased himself back into the chair.

‘It’s a shipping manifest,’ he said. ‘But what the hell is he shipping?’

Sarah stood up and looked over his shoulder at the document in his hand. She reached out and pointed at it. ‘That’s where it’s going,’ she said. ‘S.I.N. – isn’t that Singapore?’

Dan nodded. ‘I reckon so – it’s what was on our luggage tags on the way out here.’ He held the page up to the light. ‘There’s a number here – looks like twelve, twelve, twenty, eleven.’

‘The date it left,’ said Sarah. ‘Whatever it was, we’ve missed it by over a month.’

Dan scratched his chin and thought hard. ‘There’s another sequence of numbers here – maybe it’s a reference number or something Mitch can track for us.’

Sarah nodded. ‘Maybe if we can…’

They both looked up at the sound of a crash and a shout from outside the door. Dan switched off the desk lamp and folded the shipping manifest. Standing, he slipped it into the pocket of his trousers and pushed Sarah round the desk.

‘Quickly,’ he whispered. ‘Put back the documents you were photographing. Grab your things – make sure you’ve got everything.’

Sarah hurried to the other side of the room and tidied the documents as best she could.

Dan grabbed her by the arm. ‘Leave it. We’re out of time.’

He walked over to the door and beckoned to Sarah. ‘Come over here. I’m going to open the door to see what’s going on. Stay close.’

Sarah nodded.

He gently squeezed her hand. ‘Do me a favour. For once, do as you’re told. Okay?’

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

He hit the light switch and the room plunged into darkness. He grabbed the door knob and twisted it slowly, then began to pull the door in towards him. He stood still and listened. He could hear Mitch at the bottom of the staircase. It sounded like an argument with one of the security guards.

Dan craned his neck around the door frame and looked down the hallway. Opening the door wider, he pulled Sarah out into the hallway with him and closed the door. It locked with a dull click. Dan and Sarah stood still, looking at each other, holding their breath.

Dan nodded, and then walked slowly along the hallway. Carefully, he edged closer to the banister at the top of the stairs and peered over. He could see the top of Mitch’s head as well as that of two of the security guards. One of the guards was remonstrating with Mitch.

‘This is a private residence sir. You can’t go upstairs. Guests are restricted to the lower level this evening.’

Mitch held up his hands. ‘I’m sorry guys. I saw one of you walking up the stairs and thought it was okay. I just wanted to take a look at Mr Delaney’s art collection. He has some fine pieces around here. He obviously knows his stuff.’

Dan watched as Mitch drew the guards’ attention away from the staircase and back out towards the reception. Dan turned and pulled Sarah towards him.

‘Listen to me. Go downstairs now, get Mitch and you go and start the car. I think we’ve been found out. If I’m not out of here in five minutes, you leave. You got that?’

Sarah grabbed hold of his arm. ‘We can’t leave you!’

Dan pulled her fingers away. ‘You can. And you will. Do it – I’ll be out as soon as I can. Now go!’

He propelled her across the hallway and down the first steps. She glanced back at him, once, then turned and hurried after Mitch.

Dan heard her improvising a minute later.

‘Darling, there you are! It’s time to go.’ There was a pause. ‘Yes, I do apologise – he can be a terrible bore after a few drinks…’

The voices faded. Dan waited until he heard the sound of the front door close over the murmur of voices from the remaining guests, then began to edge steadily down the stairs.

He almost reached the bottom tread when a security guard emerged from a catering kitchen, turned and looked straight at Dan.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.

Dan froze. ‘Looking at art work?’ he tried.

He glanced to his left, through the reception room. The patio doors through to the terrace and deck were wide open. He glanced back at the security guard. The guard realised a fraction of a second too late what Dan was planning and made a grab for his arm.

Dan quickly took a step backwards, turned, then bolted for the terrace. He wove his way through the guests in the reception area, pushing people to one side. He could sense the security guard in pursuit.

Dan ran out onto the terrace and looked both ways.  Security guards emerged from each side of the house, running along the decking towards him. He glanced behind him, just as the first security guard pushed through the crowd.

Dan turned back, and ran.

He vaulted over the ornate stone railing at the edge of the terrace and felt himself falling through thin air.

Dan tumbled into a shrubbery, and covered his face with his arms to avoid getting his eyes scratched. He rolled, breaking his fall, then grunted as he came to a stop on the edge of a gravel path. He stood up and looked back up at the terrace. He brushed himself off and grinned up at the security guard staring down at him.

He stopped smiling when he saw the guard reach down to his belt and pull out a small walkie-talkie radio.

Dan looked around, realising the guard’s call for reinforcements only left him with a few seconds before he was found. He ran along the gravel path in the direction of the driveway. As he turned a corner, he slid to a stop as another guard ambled towards him from behind a tree, his head down as he whistled gently to himself. Dan forced himself to relax and walked nonchalantly towards the guard.

‘Evening,’ he commented as he got closer.

‘Evening sir – leaving so early?’ asked the guard.

‘Ah, early morning tomorrow,’ shrugged Dan.

Suddenly the guard’s radio crackled to life. ‘Jimmy? Watch out for a bloke, about six feet four, brown hair, black suit and tie. Probably looks like he fell into a hedge. He did. Apprehend him if you see him and bring him back to the house.’

The guard looked up at Dan, stunned. Dan made the most of the split-second delay. He ducked out of reach of the security guard as he made a half-hearted grab for his jacket and then ran down the path. Vaulting over the security rope slung across the end of the path, he ran head-first down the steps of the manicured gardens. Reaching the ornamental lawns, he looked up long enough to check the car was parked on the driveway. Sure enough, it was there. Mitch had parked it right between the pillars at the entrance to the driveway so the security gate couldn’t be closed on Dan.

Glancing to his right, Dan spotted two guards energetically running down the length of the driveway between the trees, gaining on him. He ran for the car. He saw another guest’s vehicle coming round the bend from the direction of the house. He couldn’t risk slowing down, the guards were too close. He lunged forwards and as the car passed him, he slid across the bonnet of the small sedan. As it skidded to a shocked halt, the driver slammed the heel of his hand on the horn.

Dan picked himself up off the grass, stumbled to his feet and began to run across the lawn to the car. He could feel his lungs burning, his legs aching with every last stride. He slid to a halt next to the vehicle. Pulling the door open, he threw himself onto the back seat head-first and pulled the door shut behind him.

‘Go, go!’ he urged, careering backwards as the car accelerated and lurched into the narrow lane.

He pushed himself up straight and peered between the seats. ‘Slow down and turn there – let’s not draw any more attention to ourselves than we need to,’ he said, rubbing his hand over his eyes. ‘Jesus, Mitch, your driving skills haven’t changed, have they? I still feel like I’m doing the bloody Paris-Dakar whenever I’m with you.’

‘No, you’re right,’ said Mitch drily as he peered across from the passenger seat. ‘I still leave it to others while I do the navigating.’

Dan did a double-take and looked at the driver’s seat. ‘Sarah? What the hell are you doing?’

She laughed. ‘Mitch didn’t get a chance to tell you he’s not allowed to drive any more, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.’

‘Could be worse, I suppose,’ mused Dan, then yelped as Sarah accelerated down the mountain. ‘Hey, steady!’

Delaney stared at the computer monitors, his eyes searching. ‘There. Stop the playback.’

The head of security obeyed.

Delaney jabbed a finger at a frozen image of Sarah. ‘Who the hell is she?’

The other man hit some buttons and the image enlarged. ‘We’ll soon find out.’

Delaney followed as he stood up and walked over to a series of desks, each with its own computer. He ignored the young security guard who was now slumped dejectedly at the row of monitors. Playing games on his mobile phone, he had missed the evening’s activities and was now regretting his earlier laziness.

Sitting down, the head of security punched a series of buttons and brought up a copy of the image on his computer screen, then ran a program.

Delaney peered at the screen as images flashed by. ‘Where did we get this from?’ he asked, indicating the program.

The head of security chuckled. ‘Best you don’t know, sir.’

Delaney nodded. He didn’t really care, as long as it worked.

‘Here we go.’

The computer program emitted a soft
ping
as two images appeared side-by-side – the image from Delaney’s security cameras and another, taken some years before at an outdoor media function, the woman’s hair blowing around her face as she stood laughing next to her colleagues. The head of security typed out a search string and Delaney waited while the computer hunted through its massive database. Suddenly, a text box appeared, and the security guard began to scroll through the words.

‘It says here she’s a reporter with the
Telegraph
in the UK. Strange – she seems to be a prolific writer but hasn’t filed a story for a number of weeks now. Hang on.’ The man opened the next page of text. ‘It says here her ex-husband was killed last month.’

Delaney stopped pacing the room and turned to stare at the two images on the screen. ‘What’s her name?’

The head of security hit a key, bringing up a new window with a driver’s licence displayed on it. ‘Sarah Edgewater.’

Delaney blew the air out of his cheeks. He glanced down at the holster hanging from the other man’s belt. He reached down and pulled the gun out of it. ‘Are these any good?’ he asked, turning the weapon over in his hands.

The man looked at him. ‘I wouldn’t use anything else.’

Delaney grunted. He released the safety catch and strode over to where the young security guard sat. And then shot him between the eyes. Delaney turned back to the screen showing Sarah’s image and pointed at it.

‘Call Charles.’

Hayley walked through the car park, rummaging in her handbag for her keys. The basement echoed with the sound of car doors slamming shut and engines being started as the last of the day’s commuters settled themselves in for the journey home.

As she approached her car, Hayley hit the remote, killing the alarm system. Opening the door, she tossed her handbag onto the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition.

The engine coughed, then stalled.

Cursing, Hayley turned the key again and lightly tapped the accelerator. The car roared into life and Hayley breathed a sigh of relief. It was old and temperamental but she wasn’t in a position to buy a new one just yet. Besides, she had a soft spot for it – it was a small two-door four wheel drive, ideal for getting around town without being a gas-guzzler.

While she waited for the engine to warm up, Hayley pulled off her three-inch heels, slipped on a pair of flat sandals and then released the handbrake.

As she pulled out of the parking space, she hit the brakes hard. A man had walked out in front of her car, obviously lost in thought as he polished his glasses. Hayley gestured at him to hurry up and he raised his hand apologetically before picking up speed and jogging past her through the car park.

Easing the car out of the space and weaving her way out of the basement area, Hayley noticed a stream of traffic queuing to get in – early theatre patrons, eager to find a place before they went for their pre-show evening meal.

Reaching the exit, Hayley leaned out the window and pushed her prepaid ticket into the machine. She tapped her fingers absently on the steering wheel as she waited for the barrier to rise. As she slipped through the exit, a white rental sedan pushed its way into the line of traffic, ignoring the frustrated gestures from other drivers and slipped into the queue behind Hayley, waiting for the traffic lights to turn green.

Hayley turned right, drove over the bridge spanning the river and switched on the radio. Water from a brief summer storm earlier in the afternoon glistened on the bitumen.  The white sedan behind her kept a respectable distance, while all the time making sure no other cars could slip in between them. Unaware, Hayley pulled up at the next red light before making her way down Caxton Street and up through Paddington.

The temperature had dropped a little after the rain. Hayley powered down her window and switched off the air-conditioning, enjoying the breeze that blew through the car. Pulling up at a pedestrian crossing, she gazed at the restaurants to her right, already beginning to fill with the evening’s patrons. The lights turned green and she accelerated, turning right and headed towards Ashgrove. There would be no restaurant outing for her tonight, she thought sadly – too much work to do. She smiled. At least there was a good bottle of Verdelho waiting in the refrigerator.

Her house on Mount Nebo was a good twenty kilometres out of the city and it never ceased to amaze her that within an hour she could be winding her way up the mountain and into the bush, away from the frantic pace of the city. She passed the last set of traffic lights at The Gap and relaxed, pushing the accelerator a little. As she did so, she checked her rear-view mirror and frowned. The headlights of the car behind her hadn’t changed since leaving the city.

As Hayley eased the car round the left-hand bend, she accelerated hard, the small car protesting against the sharp incline at the start of the mountain road. Red dirt lined each side of the narrow bitumen highway before dropping away sharply to dry rainforest and granite rocks.

She reached the top of the first incline and glanced in the rear-view mirror – the other car’s headlights were still on her tail. Her heart beat faster as she tried to visualise the upcoming bends in the road. The road was the only direct route along the mountain – any roads leading off it for the next eight kilometres would simply lead to scenic viewpoints and picnic areas.

Properties along the road had long driveways, often sealed with steel gates. She wouldn’t be able to simply drive off the road and onto someone’s private property for help – if it turned out they weren’t home, she’d have nowhere to turn and no way to escape her pursuer.

Hayley forced herself to ease off the accelerator a little as she approached a notorious double-bend – the small memorials on the corner erected by friends and families of previous crash victims served as a reminder of the road’s reputation.

As she exited the bend, the car behind her accelerated hard, hitting her small four wheel drive and throwing her forwards in her seat. Hayley screamed and hit the accelerator, swerving round the next bend and almost hitting a car coming in the opposite direction. She forced herself to slow down again, her hands shaking as she changed gear.

Hayley braked hard, trying to steer the car round another sharp curve in the road. As she did so, the car behind her sped up and slammed into the back of her vehicle, turning it into the granite hillside. Hayley screamed and flicked the steering wheel to the right, desperately trying to avoid an impact but the back of the car began to slide across the wet bitumen. Instinctively, she stepped on the accelerator to try to control the skid but the vehicle swung too far the other way.

Hayley screamed and threw her hands up to protect her face as the car pivoted, smashed into the barrier at the edge of the ravine and crashed down through the trees lining the mountain road.

The car rolled side over side before landing upside down against an old eucalypt, the tyres spinning slowly as the engine spluttered to a stop.

The driver of the sedan pulled over into a small parking area a few metres along the road and switched off his headlights.

Opening the door, Charles got out and slipped on his jacket. He casually shrugged it over his shoulders and fastened the two buttons down the front. Looking both ways, he checked there was no other traffic coming and switched on a small high-beam torch. He slipped on a pair of gloves, then pulled plastic bags over his shoes and walked over to the barrier. Telltale skid marks showed where Hayley’s car had left the road. Burning rubber from her car tyres filled the air, permeating the sticky-sweet scent of the eucalypts.

Charles stepped over the skid marks and churned up grass verge, being careful not to leave tread marks from his shoes. The plastic bags would only serve to disguise the tread a little. Leaning over the edge of the ravine, he shone the torch down to where the car was lying upside down, the bonnet crumpled against a tree and the side panels dented and scraped apart by its uncontrolled descent. Glass glinted on the ground around the vehicle, while various parts lay strewn down the ravine, showing the car’s progress as it rolled.

Charles caught the sound of movement from the vehicle below and strained his ears. It was Hayley, calling for help. He held the torch up as a hand appeared, waving desperately out of the driver’s window.

Charles placed the small torch between his teeth, holding it while he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a cigarette lighter and methodically flicked it to life. He held up the flame to his face, mesmerised by the heat and colour. Calmly lowering the lighter, he took the torch from between his teeth and held the beam steady while he tossed the lighter towards Hayley’s upturned vehicle, aiming it at the fuel dripping from the rear of the wreckage.

The car lifted off the ground with the force of the explosion before rocking to a halt at the base of the tree, flames beginning to lick at the undergrowth and surrounding bushes.

Charles stood and watched the flames as they engulfed the car. Hayley’s screams penetrated the night air. He smiled as they gradually died away. Swinging the torch beam across the grass verge at his feet, he scuffed the faint tread marks from his shoes into the mud, obliterating any chance of a forensic team finding a trace of his existence. Switching off the torch, he hurried back to the car and started the engine, coaxing the vehicle back down the mountain.

By the time he reached the outer suburbs of Brisbane, two fire engines had raced past his car, heading up to the scene of the accident.