The Recipient

by Dean Mayes

  Casey felt a lump rise in her throat.

  “Okay, Pa,” she interjected, holding up her hand toward him. “That sounds a little too much like something I’d come out with.”

  Lionel smiled and harrumphed quietly, leaning back in his seat.

  “What to do then. What to do?”

  Casey shivered unexpectedly as a fresh pang of guilt assaulted her. Her thoughts drifted to the confrontation with her parents. Her expression tightened, her features filling with renewed tension. Lionel saw the change in her, but he didn’t respond to it.

  “There’s something else,” she choked as fresh tears threatened.

  Casey turned to her grandfather and sat forward.

  “I confronted…Edie. I pressed her about the note.”

  For a long moment, Lionel just stared at her and Casey feared that he would become angry once more. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and blew a noisy breath between his teeth.

  “Dear, oh dear, Casey,” he hissed wearily.

  “I had to show her the note—the letterhead. She didn’t deny it was Slattery & Gerard’s.”

  Lionel looked out across the water. He nodded tersely, considering her revelation.

  “I don’t know what you can possibly expect me to say to that,” he answered finally, his expression tinged with resignation. “Except that we need to involve Whittaker. He is better placed to…handle this sort of thing.”

  Casey looked away and bowed her head. She saw a yawning chasm open up between herself and her grandfather, filled with the hurt from Casey’s own actions. No matter how legitimate she might have felt those questions she had asked were, was hurting her grandfather like this worth it?

  Lionel stood and gazed out across the bay again.

  “What are you going to do?” Casey ventured fearfully.

  He shook his head slowly, unsure of how to answer.

  “I don’t know. I…should probably go see your parents. I suspect they’ll be just as angry at me for this. Then, I’m going to go see Whittaker.”

  “Well,” Casey began, trying to think. “Let me see Scott first. I’ll swing by the bar and show him the photo you found. He has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of motor vehicles. I’m betting that he’ll be able to spot what kind of car this Audi of ours is supposed to be. If he can narrow it down, then we’ll have a better argument to present to Whittaker, don’t you think? It will make less work for the police.”

  Lionel nodded, but he did not look in her direction.

  “Can I perhaps suggest that you leave it for now,” he turned finally, and gestured at Casey’s rumpled clothing. “Quite frankly, you look like something the cat dragged in.”

  Casey blinked at her grandfather. For the briefest of moments, his facade cracked and he offered a wan smile at her.

  Her grandfather was right. Her body ached from having been cooped up in the car and she could feel considerable tension in her muscles.

  “I guess I’ve lost the right to protest for now,” she said finally, wearily. Slowly, she tipped her body forward and screwed up her face. Raising her arm, she sniffed then sighed.

  “You’re right. I’m gonna go and have a shower.”

  “Good,” Lionel held his finger to his nose, his mischievous spark returning. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it but—”

  “Then don’t!” Casey exclaimed before smirking awkwardly as she passed in front of him.

  ___

  The security guard looked up and smiled as the well-dressed woman approached from the central corridor. Crossing the foyer, she nodded to him and he got up from his seat and left the cubicle so that he could unlock the front doors. At this time of day, now that most staff had gone home, the night security protocols took over, meaning that her access card would not work.

  As she got closer, the guard noticed how tired she looked. Her complexion was pale. The makeup she usually wore had long worn off. Her shoulders drooped.

  “Tough day, huh, Josie?” he ventured, sliding a key into a lock on the side of the door frame.

  Nodding, she managed a half-smile as she stopped before the door, waiting for them to open.

  She chose to ignore the fact he had called her Josie. There were only a few people who could get away with it.

  “You have no idea, Barry,” she responded wearily.

  As the electronic mechanism responded to the key turning and the doors slid softly apart accordingly, Barry looked at Josephine Catea with sincere concern.

  “Is everything going to be okay?” he ventured.

  “Nothing that a year in the tropics wouldn’t fix,” Josie answered humourlessly. She offered him a weak smile.

  “Goodnight, Barry,” she said, stepping through the entrance and out into the evening chill.

  “Night,” he responded, watching her shrink as she walked along the path towards the car park.

  Josephine reached her dark grey sedan and aimed her remote at it. The indicator lights flashed and the interior lights came on. She opened the door and tossed her bag onto the passenger seat, then climbed in.

  Starting the engine, Josephine cruised out of the Detention Centre car park and entered the dual carriageway, heading in the direction of the city.

  As she adjusted the climate control and turned the audio system on, she relaxed back in her seat and indulged in a deep, if somewhat tense, exhale. She smiled as classical music filtered through the cabin.

  The guard’s question echoed in her mind.

  ‘Is everything going to be okay?’

  She didn’t know.

  She was still grappling with the shit-storm that had erupted earlier in the day. It had quickly snowballed into something much more urgent.

  In the midst of dealing with the temp agency who denied sending the relief administrative assistant at the heart of this morning’s security breach, Josephine suddenly found herself having to deal with her superiors in Canberra. After several hour-long conference calls, she was no closer to identifying the person who had accessed the facility’s database.

  All that had been established so far was that the infiltrator was a young woman, based on the description given by their own employee and that she had said her name was Josie; convenient, given that she had gained access to the centre using the credentials of Josephine Catea herself. How anyone could have done that baffled her. Josephine was never lax when it came to matters of security and she was damned sure she hadn’t misplaced her own access card.

  The security footage gleaned from the centre’s camera system had been no help since the infiltrator had cleverly obscured her features. None of the cameras had been able to get a clear view of her from the moment she’d entered to the moment she’d left.

  Whoever this infiltrator was, she knew what she was doing.

  Flicking up the indicator stem, Josephine turned right onto another major arterial, then reached across to her bag and felt for her phone inside it. She had deliberately switched it off some time during the afternoon to avoid having to deal with unnecessary calls while she tried to control the damage.

  She knew her husband would be trying to reach her; she’d had to delay responding to several messages from him at the height of the drama. Though she knew he wouldn’t be angry, he would most certainly be worried sick.

  Dragging the phone out and powering it on, she looked at the screen and felt her stomach lurch. Eight missed calls from Canberra in the past hour alone along with a lengthening list of missed calls from other numbers, several media outlets, departmental lawyers, as well as her husband.

  “Jesus,” she hissed out loud as she scrolled through the list until she couldn’t look at it any longer. She slapped the phone down on the passenger seat and twisted her hands on the steering wheel.

  A sinking feeling settled inside her. This was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better.

  Rubbing her forehead, Josephine absently looked up at the rear vision mirror and noticed a vehicle approaching from directly behind her.


  She dismissed it at first and looked away but on looking back, she noticed that not only was it close, it was dangerously close.

  Narrowing her eyes in annoyance, she shifted into the right lane, thinking that the vehicle simply wanted her to clear out of its path. However, the moment she settled into the new lane, she realised that the car had moved across with her.

  It was tailing her.

  Setting her jaw, she glanced at her rear-vision mirror, trying to get a closer view of this sudden antagonist but she couldn’t identify either the make or shape of the vehicle.

  Suddenly, its headlights switched to high-beam, dazzling her vision and causing her to flinch. Her hand inadvertently wrenched the steering wheel and she swerved violently.

  “What the hell?”

  The mysterious car nudged her rear bumper several times, forcing Josephine to clutch her steering wheel tightly in both hands in order to steady her car.

  Fear plagued her. Her breath quickened.

  Snatching her phone up in her hand, Josephine desperately navigated to the call screen for her husband. She prepared to dial but, as she attempted to thumb the green handset icon, the car nudged her more violently this time and she fumbled with the device. It clattered to the floor on the passenger side out of view.

  Instinctively, Josephine stamped her foot down on the accelerator in an effort to create some distance between her and the vehicle but the stranger followed suit, closing the distance between them. Despite the fact they were on a major arterial, with the city’s skyline growing more prominent ahead of them, there were no other cars in their immediate vicinity that she could see.

  Suddenly, the vehicle pulled out from behind her and accelerated, matching her speed as it drew alongside her.

  Panicked, Josephine stared through her window.

  A burgundy sports car, the familiar symbol of BMW emblazoned on its grille. The car’s windows were darkened, reflecting the street lamps in them. She couldn’t see through them to identify the driver.

  The car swerved threateningly toward her, forcing her to react and wrench her own vehicle away from it.

  “What are you doing?” she screamed at it. Her heart was pounding as she fought to maintain control.

  Almost as if her question had some effect, the car dropped away, decelerating into the distance behind her.

  I’ve gotta get off this road.

  Seeing an exit ramp up ahead, Josephine gripped the steering wheel harder and kept her eyes forward. She would wait until the very last moment and swerve onto the ramp before the other car had a chance to react.

  Adjusting her rear-vision mirror, Josephine searched for the other car and found it, continuing to shrink in the distance. She realised then that she hadn’t thought to try and identify its registration plate.

  The exit ramp rushed up to meet her and, letting her foot off the accelerator, she allowed the car to slow without tapping the brake. She swerved onto the ramp and looked back.

  The other car didn’t follow.

  Confused and frightened, Josephine braked as she came to an intersection, then she turned right crossing an overpass.

  Looking left as she did so, she spotted the other car continuing on towards the city.

  She raised her hand to her chest and exhaled raggedly, feeling herself beginning to calm.

  “What the fuck was that about?”

  Looking down to the floor on the passenger side, Josephine spotted her phone laying in view. Ensuring there were no other vehicles around her, she unclipped her seatbelt and prepared to reach for it.

  Her car gave a sudden lurch and began to accelerate—despite the fact that her foot was resting on the brake pedal.

  Abandoning the phone, Josephine sat bolt upright, grabbing the steering wheel once more as she stomped on the brake pedal. Nothing happened. The car continued to gather speed.

  She grabbed at the gear shift lever and attempted to move it to neutral but the lever wouldn’t budge. It was completely stuck.

  Josephine screamed and began to hyperventilate. She fumbled with her seatbelt, then abandoned it in favour of trying to turn the key in the ignition.

  Nothing happened.

  The sedan rocketed past one hundred kilometres per hour as it raced along towards a set of traffic lights whose orbs had just flicked to amber.

  In anguished panic, Josephine stamped down as hard as she could on the brake pedal once more but the car still refused to respond. Out of control, it raced through the intersection, causing cars approaching from either side to screech and swerve to avoid hitting both it and each other.

  Josephine glanced down in terror at the speedometer.

  130…140…150…

  The engine was squealing now, drowning out her own terrified screams.

  Something rattled underneath her and the car responded by jerking crazily. Her hands could no longer control the car and somewhere in her terror, she knew.

  Suddenly, there was a twisting of metal from somewhere inside the engine. A shower of sparks erupted from underneath the car and through the gaps in the bonnet.

  As her sedan hit two hundred kilometres per hour, flames erupted from the engine bay and began consuming the vehicle as it lurched violently to the left.

  Josephine pulled her eyes from the fire before her and grew wide as a light pole rushed up to meet her.

  The sedan ploughed into the pole and exploded in a brilliant conflagration of light and fire and screaming metal.

  CHAPTER 28.

  Casey crossed the street opposite the Blue Heeler Bar and approached the side door. Slipping inside, she tentatively scanned her surroundings. Though the atmosphere was still quiet, it was steadily filling with after-five patrons, office types mainly, calling by for a drink on their way home from work.

  One of the barmen recognised her as she entered and nodded, then frowned, realising that he’d never seen her this early in the evening.

  Approaching him, Casey pointed to her left and up the stairs. “Is he in yet?”

  The barman nodded. “He hasn’t started his shift yet. He’s having a bite to eat.”

  Thanking him with a thumbs-up, Casey turned and ascended the stairs to the rooftop. Sasquatch was sitting in his favoured spot near the corner bar. Armed with a sharp knife and fork, he was cutting into a large porterhouse steak while watching a TV at the bar. He looked up as she approached, his expression similar to that of the barman downstairs.

  “Have you had a joint already?” he remarked gruffly as she pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she retorted, plucking a morsel of steak he had just cut from his plate and popping it into her mouth.

  Scott flashed her a hurt expression but then he flushed pink, realising what he’d just blurted out. “Sorry. It’s just that it’s still daylight. It’s not like you to be out and about this early.”

  Casey dismissed his observation and nodded to a young woman behind the bar who held up a beer in her hand, offering it in silent question.

  “It’s not like me to be doing a lot of things lately.”

  Noticing that Scott was distracted, she followed his line of sight towards the TV screen.

  “What are we watching?”

  Scott almost blushed at the question.

  “Family Feud,” he admitted under his breath. “The news will be on in a minute.”

  Smirking, Casey took her notebook from her bag and set it down on the table. She took out the Pleasant Festival photo and slid it across the table top. “Could I get you to look at something for me?”

  Scott licked his fingers, then wiped his hands on a napkin. He took the photograph from her and examined it. He grinned mischievously, giving Casey a clear indication that he was ogling the girls lounging against the vehicle.

  “Nice car,” he commented through a mouthful of food.

  “Trust you,” Casey countered sarcastically. The woman from the bar stepped up to the table and put an ice-cold beer bottl
e in front of Casey.

  Taking a swig, Casey kept looking at him. She was waiting for the penny to drop which, after several moments, it finally did.

  His chewing stopped. His eyes narrowed, then went wide. He reached for the pair of glasses which dangled from the collar of his T-shirt and shoved them into place. His breath caught when he recognised Saskia and then again as the detail of the car in the image came into focus.

  “Wait a minute, is this the car you have been talking about? Holy shit.”

  Casey nodded.

  “How did you get this?”

  “What can you tell me about it?” Casey asked, ignoring his question. “You know cars better than just about anyone I know.”

  Shifting his dinner plate to one side, Scott set the photo down between them.

  “Audi. 2011,” he began. Bringing it closer to him, he ran his finger across the left-hand headlight, then back along the side where a single door was partially visible. “Coupe. Titanium package.”

  With the focus of a scientist examining a microscopic specimen, he scanned back along the front, stopping over the registration plate that was partially obscured by Saskia’s leg.

  He squinted. “Victorian plate. Definitely a Victorian plate…first letter looks like a ‘W.’ Pity about her le…”

  Suddenly, he went silent.

  “What is it, Scott?” Casey asked him urgently.

  He appeared surprised. “It’s an S5,” he said.

  Casey frowned, shrugging her shoulders. “An S5?” she echoed. “That’s…what is that exactly?”

  “That,” Scott said, wiping his goatee. “Is high end, and worth some serious coinage. A hundred thousand before you even consider putting it on the road.”

  “Okay, so it’s an expensive car. There are a lot of expensive cars on the road.”

  Scott shook his head rapidly. “No, no. Not like this. This isn’t the sort of vehicle that just runs out of a showroom. This is special, reserved for a particular kind of buyer.”

  “A particular kind of buyer?”

  “Someone who treats their vehicles like a work of art.”