by L. A. Larkin
He turned and folded his arms, shaking his head as if she were a naughty child he’d caught bunking off school.
‘Did you really think a failed ad exec like you could succeed in causing the world’s third-largest company even the remotest embarrassment? You, Serena, have been nothing but a minor—but very attractive—irritation.’
‘And you’re a sad fuck who can only get laid by drugging women!’
His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. She expected him to strike her. Instead, he waved the DVD under her nose and whispered in her ear, so closely she could feel his hot breath on her neck.
‘John suffered. Oh yes, he suffered. He died slowly and painfully. For what? This. His death is your fault.’
Serena swallowed a sob as his words stabbed her deeply.
Bukowski sauntered to the door.
‘I’m telling the police everything,’ she called after him.
‘Go right ahead, Serena—you can’t prove a thing. Not about Gene-Asis or myself. However,’ he paused deliberately, his eyes disappearing in a sickening grin, ‘within the next hour, the cops will have something they’ll be keen to talk to you and Barry Flynn about.’
‘What?’ she barely managed to whisper.
He was about to open the door to leave.
‘I no longer need to sully my hands with your death. You see, my good friends in the police will have you both locked up for the murder of John Flynn. No matter what you say about me, nobody will listen. How will you like prison, Serena?’
Chapter 63
Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. All she could hear were the words ‘John suffered. Oh yes, he suffered,’ reverberating in her head like a screaming phantom. Bukowski had relished saying them, like a jealous lover lashing out. Bile rose in her throat as she realised that John’s death had given him particular delight. The silence of Tuckett’s office reinforced the emptiness she felt: she would never see John again, never tell him she loved him. It was too late. Her grief would overwhelm her if she allowed it free reign. She could feel it paralysing her limbs and mind. So, she concentrated on her anger: come what may, she was going to nail Bukowski for John’s murder. She didn’t have time to grieve—not now. And that bastard wasn’t going to send her or Baz to jail either. No way.
Coming out of her introspection, she became aware of the noisy news-room buzz outside Tuckett’s office and the security guard watching her. How long the man had been standing there, she didn’t know.
‘Miss, you have to leave now,’ he said.
‘It’s okay. I’m leaving. No problem.’
She suspected Bukowski had already made his call to the police. She strode ahead of the guard, eager to get out of there as soon as possible.
In the foyer, the security guard called a cab for her.
‘You wait here till it comes. Don’t move.’
She gazed out to the car park, expecting to see police cars any minute. She toyed with the idea of bolting through the door and running for it but, just as she did so, a taxi pulled up. The passenger was paying the driver.
‘I’ll put you in that one but just wait a tick,’ said the guard.
But Serena was now distracted by a Channel One newsbreak on the massive foyer monitor. Filling the whole screen was a photograph of John’s smiling face, relaxed and happy. Each seat in the foyer had an accompanying headphone and she raced to use one.
‘Police are concerned about the whereabouts of John Flynn, Chief Information Security Officer for one of Australia’s leading banks. There are fears he has been kidnapped. He was last seen leaving the bank with an unidentified man. Surveillance cameras show him being forced into a car at gunpoint. Mr Flynn has access to highly confidential information regarding the bank’s security systems. The police would like to question his brother, Barry Flynn, and Serena Swift.’
Photos of Baz and Serena appeared on screen. It was the one of her with red hair, from her fake driver’s licence.
‘Shit!’
She ran to the taxi. The security guard clocked her movement but not her face on screen. However, Dan the robot was programmed for facial recognition.
‘Stop!’ said Dan. ‘Call 000.’
‘Shut it, metal brain,’ she snapped.
Before the guard could work out what was going on, she had dived into the cab’s back seat, just as the passenger scrambled from the front.
‘Coogee and fast,’ she requested, keeping her face angled away from the Channel One building. She noticed the driver’s smartphone mounted on the dashboard.
‘Can I use your phone for a local call? I’m happy to pay.’
The driver gave her a surprised look but agreed.
‘Baz?’ she said.
She heard his laboured breathing. He was running.
‘I went to the police and told them what you’d said. They said they’d look into it and I left. Then, a few minutes ago, they call me. Ask me weird questions, like I’m suspect or something.’
‘Baz, we’re being...’ She didn’t want to spook the cabbie, so she hesitated.
‘Framed? I know.’ Baz completed her sentence in a heavy voice.
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m still in the city. I’m keeping moving. I know they can trace my location through this mobile.’ He paused, his breathing heavy. ‘Is he really dead?’
‘Bukowski said so and …’ Serena glanced at the driver. She had to choose her words carefully. ‘Baz, I’m using the taxi driver’s phone.’
‘I see.’
‘Baz, I’m so sorry. I loved him, you know?’
‘Don’t use past tense. He could still be alive—he’s a tough’un. We Flynns don’t give up without a fight.’
He was asking her to give him hope but, in her heart, she doubted there was any. Serena looked at the driver, who appeared to be listening to an interview on ABC Radio. She lowered her voice. ‘They’re not on our side. Bukowski’s got them in his pocket,’ she said, meaning the police.
‘So, we gotta hide. But where’s safe?’
‘Where would John go?’
‘You think he may be hiding?’ Baz’s blind optimism was devastating.
‘If he escaped, he could be. And he’d want us to find him.’
Baz had stopped panting, apparently standing still for a moment. ‘I’ve tried Mum and Dad’s, Uncle Dave, and Ric, his surfing buddy.’
‘Where else?’
‘Um, the beach, I guess. Lots of people.’
‘You sure? It’s so public.’
‘No, I’m not sure but he loves the beach. There are caves in the cliffs. Maybe he’s in one.’
‘Right. I’ll see you there and if you don’t have a hat, get one to hide your face, and avoid security cameras. I’ll see you at the southern end.’
The beach might not have surveillance cameras but the surrounding streets did.
Chapter 64
Baz was waiting in a shady spot on the beach, his suit jacket and shoes placed on a large boulder. He’d done his best to blend in. He nodded in her direction but didn’t wave. Serena’s large-brimmed hat sat low on her brow. It had cost her the last of the one hundred dollars Danielle had given her but it hid all her hair and most of her face. She’d been careful to look down, avoiding surveillance cameras. She gave Baz a big hug, like two friends enjoying the beach.
‘Any sign of John?’ asked Serena. She didn’t expect a positive answer but felt her stomach twinge with anticipation.
Baz shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’ve checked out the caves. No luck.’
They perched on a boulder, side by side, watching the hundreds of people enjoying an evening swim.
‘Any news on the radio?’ asked Serena. Baz had been listening to various bulletins on his Tbyte. They just repeated what they already knew: that the police wanted to question them.
‘No.’ He looked at her anxiously.
Then his Tbyte beeped with a message. It simply said, ‘Look up’.
Both their heads shot up. On the bo
ardwalk, leaning on the railings, was John. He lifted his finger to his lips. Serena’s face glowed; John was alive! But neither said a word or hurried their stride as they casually strolled across the sand and up the steps. Serena was about to fling her arms around him when he held up his hands to keep them away.
‘Act casual,’ he said quietly. ‘Let’s walk.’
He turned in the direction of their unit and walked away. They followed. Baz couldn’t resist giving him a pat on the back. ‘We thought you were dead.’
John bent forward slightly, his face screwed up in pain.
‘Go easy Baz,’ he replied. ‘I think I’ve got a couple of broken ribs. They gave me a beating.’ Serena noticed his normally strong stride was a little hesitant and that he held one arm across his chest. His mouth bore a livid cut and, although it was partially hidden by his sunnies, his right eye was bruised.
‘Do you need a doctor?’ she asked.
‘No, I’ve had worse. Look, we don’t have much time. There were cops watching the unit. I’ve sent them on a wild goose chase but it won’t take long for them to work it out and come back. We’ve gotta take what we need and get out of here.’
Serena stretched out her hand to touch him, to know he was really there. She took his hand for a moment. ‘You have no idea how good it is to see you.’ She squeezed his fingers gently. ‘Bukowski told me you were dead. I heard Ben order your execution. He said to make it look like an accident. So how did you …’
‘Get away?’ he anticipated. They were climbing the hill. John was finding it hard to get enough breath. ‘Shit, it hurts to breathe.’ But he continued walking. ‘Why did we choose to live somewhere so hilly?’ he joked.
‘How did you get away?’ asked Baz.
The hill was getting steeper and John was walking more slowly.
‘Everyone has a price,’ he replied. ‘They beat me almost unconscious and then dragged me back to the flat. Going to drown me, head in the bath. Wanted to make it look like I’d been totured for information about the bank. But I offered them money for my life. Enough that they could live like kings for the rest of theirs.’
‘But Bukowski will have them killed.’
‘Yeah, well; with a hundred million each, they were happy to disappear.’
Baz and Serena stopped in their tracks.
‘How much? said Serena.
They were about to turn into their street. John peered around the corner. The police car hadn’t returned.
‘We’ll take the back lane, to be safe.’
They followed him and Serena persisted, ‘But a hundred million each? How?’
‘I hacked my bank.’
‘What?’
‘It was that, or die.’
He opened the back gate and entered the small yard at the rear of their block. A neighbour’s freshly washed clothes hung on the line, flapping in the breeze. They peered past it, to check for anyone lurking around the back door. Nothing. They entered the cool, dark interior of the Art Deco building and surveyed the stairwell. They pressed the timed light switch and climbed the stairs, entering their home. Everything looked perfectly normal except that the shoe stand at the door had been knocked over.
‘How long have we got before the police come back?’ Serena asked, removing her hat and sunnies.
John leaned against the wall, his loose shirt soaked with perspiration, breathing in short, painful gasps. ‘Not long. I tapped into the police radio frequency, sending them to a home shooting that never happened.’ He noticed the small cut under her eye. ‘Who did this?’
‘Ben Hartstone. Turns out he’s Bukowski’s hired gun.’
John shook his head. ‘I knew he wasn’t to be trusted.’
She removed his hand. ‘If the police are coming back, we better get a move on. John, sit down for a second.’ She led him to the lounge, where she drew the blinds so they couldn’t be seen. Baz stood next to his brother.
‘As I see it, Bukowski and the cops believe you’re dead.’ She looked at John. ‘For now, let’s keep it that way. The police are looking for Baz and me, so …’
At that moment, she noticed the answering machine was flashing. She looked at John and Baz questioningly, then nervously played it.
‘Seri, how are you? We’re all fine.’ She smiled with relief at the sound of Keith’s voice. Her family was safe. ‘Can you call me?’
She dialled him straightaway. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
‘We’re fine. Been a few guys hovering around the farm having a stickybeak but I shooed ’em off with me rifle.’
‘And how’s the baby? And Kerry?’
‘Both good. They’re still in the hospital.’
‘Have you seen the news?’
‘Yeah, saying John’s been kidnapped or something. That true?’
‘No, Keith, but I’m going to disappear for a while. I can’t say any more but don’t believe what they say about me on the news.’
Keith was the most level-headed person she knew: it took an awful lot to ruffle his feathers. ‘Righteo’, he said. ‘Before you go, I gotta read you this weird message from that London friend of yours. I won’t say her name, you know, just in case. Anyway, where’s the note?’ Serena imagined Keith trying to find his glasses. ‘Ah, here it is. So, she said and I quote, “All the evidence you need is on its way to my roses heaven. Check out the footage of you and me at your leaving party. Use it to nail them. Turns out I can’t even trust my own rag. They won’t print the story! So it’s up to you. Love, Crazy Bird.” I hope that makes sense to you?’
‘Keith, you’ve just made my day.’
Serena knew exactly who Tracey’s ‘roses heaven’ was: Joe Hosp, creative director of a London commercials production house called Devil Joe Productions. Tracey had met him through Serena. Joe and Tracey had had a very tumultuous relationship that lasted a year and they’d remained good friends.
Tracey had sent her documentary to Joe. It was in the guise of party footage taken at Serena’s London leaving do. Tracey must have beamed the documentary from her smartphone, via satellite, and placed it in the Rooneys’ file, on the clients’ server.
Ending the call, she yelled, ‘Wahoooooo!’
‘Good news?’ asked John.
‘Tracey has video footage. It’s hidden on a production house’s server. In London. Which means two things—Tracey is alive and we have evidence!’
‘So we’re back in the game.’
‘Oh yes, we’re back in the game, as long as my password hasn’t expired.’ Serena wondered if her Rooneys client server login still worked. Companies often forgot to change passwords when people left.
‘Let’s check,’ said John, rising awkwardly and moving to his office.
Serena joined him, checking the street for anything unusual. She closed the blinds. ‘We better make this quick.’
‘So, we get this doco to the media and Gene-Asis is toast,’ said Baz as he joined them.
‘That’s easier than it sounds,’ she replied. ‘Trace tells me she couldn’t even get The Post to print the story.’
John grinned. She knew that look. He had an idea.
‘We’re going to New York.’
‘But why?
‘First, we need to get out of Sydney. The police will hunt us down. In fact, I think we should get out of Australia altogether. Then we’re out of jurisdiction. Second, the head office where this launch thing is happening, it’s in New York, right?’
‘Yes,’ she responded, unsure where this was leading.
‘If you can get me near the Gene-Asis head office, I can wreak havoc on their launch day.’
‘How?’
‘I’ll tell you later, but let’s get out of here.’
‘Do we need to leave the country? Can’t you hack Gene-Asis’ HQ from here?’ she asked.
‘I could but it would take weeks. The launch is in two days, right?’
‘Yes, on Wednesday.’
‘Then the only sure-fire way to do it is if I am right ne
xt to the building where the launch shindig is happening.’
‘But what if we’re on the airport watch list?’
‘Doesn’t matter. We’re travelling as Sarah and Ray Bradley.’ He pulled two Australian passports from his desk drawer and two eTicket printouts. Serena studied her passport. A blonde Serena stared back at her from the pages, under the name of Sarah Bradley.
‘Dare I ask who Sarah Bradley is?’
‘Best not.’
‘But how did you get these?’
‘I had a friend prepare them, just in case. He’s the best forger I know. Sarah’s real, by the way; we’ve just changed the photo.’ He took them back. ‘I always like a plan B.’
‘But you told me forging a passport is really hard.’
‘It is and it takes time, much longer than the driver’s licence we got you. I commissioned these weeks ago.’
‘Won’t your credit card tip them off? For the tickets, I mean.’
John smiled crookedly. ‘One of the gentlemen I told you about earlier was so thrilled with his newfound wealth, he decided to buy us two tickets to New York. Somehow, I don’t think he’s going to report an unauthorised transaction on his card, do you?’
Serena laughed.
‘But wait, there’s more,’ John was now laughing too. ‘It’s the Dreamliner. So it’s non-stop to New York. And business class, too.’
‘You know, you are a genius, after all!’ said Serena.
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Baz, interjecting.
John looked at his younger brother. ‘Baz, it’s better you don’t. I’m looking at life in prison if I’m caught and Seri won’t fare much better. I want to keep you out of this.’
‘But I’m already an accessory. I helped Seri get the job.’
John shook his head. ‘True, but we’ll both say you had no idea what that was all about. With a good lawyer, your sentence would be minimal. So, go up the coast, hire a car and find a holiday house somewhere remote. Use cash. Just keep a low profile till this all blows over.’
Baz opened his mouth to protest again. John used his ace card. ‘Mum and Dad would never forgive me if I dragged you into this. I’m the black sheep, remember?’