by J J Cooper
'Nothing to worry about. The main thing is that we're here now.'
Bill let out another snicker.
Jay turned to Bill.
'What the hell is wrong with you? Care to tell me what happened?'
'Don't you dare,' Sarah said to Bill.
'Someone better tell me what happened.'
'It's not important,' she said.
Jay ignored her. 'Bill?'
Bill burst into laughter.
Jay smiled, confused. His smile widened as he watched Sarah's face redden around her pursed lips.
'Shut up, old man,' she said.
The comment set Bill off. He bent forward on the dash, head in his hands. He struggled to breathe because of the laughter.
'Shit!' Sarah hit the steering wheel with her palm. 'I got delayed by a dog.'
'What?' Jay asked.
'A fucking dog bailed me up after I jumped a fence, OK? No big deal.'
Jay grinned. 'Fair enough. Why didn't you just jump back over the fence?'
'Look. I hid in a cubby house, and the dog blocked my way out. Happy?'
Jay put his hand to his mouth, trying to cover his grin. 'Why didn't you answer your phone?'
'It fell out of my pocket as I jumped the fence –'
'And the dog chewed on it like a bone,' Bill interrupted. 'She was lucky to get it back!' he roared.
Jay fell back in his seat and laughed along with Bill. Sarah pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the car and lit a cigarette. Through his tears, Jay could see Sarah was about halfway through her cigarette before he stopped sniggering.
Bill calmed down too. 'Get out there and comfort her, boy,' he said.
Jay shrugged, pushed forward the driver's seat and joined Sarah at the front of the car.
She quickly wiped tears away. 'Finished?'
'Come on. After what I've seen today, I was worried about you. It's just a great relief, that's all.'
'It's embarrassing and unprofessional. An old man had to save me from a fucking dog.'
'Just forget about it. All over now. Won't be mentioned again.'
'Promise?'
'Promise.'
'So ... you were really worried about me, hey?'
'Yes, I was.'
Jay noted a slight upturn of her lip as she ground out her cigarette.
'Let's go,' she said.
TWENTY-SIX
The radio hummed eighties rock 'n' roll for the remainder of the trip to Brisbane. They arrived in the heart of the city just before the morning peak traffic. Sarah used her NSIS credit card to book three rooms at the Sofitel Hotel above Central train station. Jay lay low in the Monaro with Bill.
They waited in the carpark until the elevator was clear. Sarah held the elevator door for Jay to make the mad dash. He had tried to clean himself as best he could. But it would be obvious to a casual observer that something was amiss. He couldn't remove that much blood with paper towel.
They agreed to meet in Jay's room around ten, but then pushed the time back to twelve because they didn't have any luggage. Jay decided to hang back in the room, giving Bill a shopping list and his credit card.
Jay jumped straight into the shower to wash Bowen's blood from his skin. He held up his damaged wrist and watched the water cascade off the rose tattoo. No amount of soap or scrubbing would remove it. He punched the tiles when he realised his stupidity at even trying. Then he hung his head at the stupidity of punching the tiles.
Bright red flowed from his hair as he shampooed. The hot water soothed his injured body. He placed his head against the shower screen to allow the water to massage his back and wondered how one interrogation in Iraq had led to his father's kidnapping. Doubts lingered over whether he had done the right thing in sending in the interrogation report. A report that had already cost the lives of two people. He told himself Lazarau and Bowen only had themselves to blame. But he had to wear the burden of responsibility for his father's abduction. One night of lust, of insanity. He had slept with the wife of a psychopath. Primrose had always been strange; Jay had predicted he would hurt someone one day in an interrogation. Although he imagined it would be something like slapping a prisoner, not torture and murder. He wondered how being overlooked for an overseas deployment had led Primrose on a downward spiral of self-destruction, into self-righteous revenge.
He thought of the video of the interrogation in his safe deposit box and wondered why he had kept it. Told himself it was as insurance, but insurance for what? It wasn't just to prove that he'd spoken to a member of Iraq's infamous leadership team. The Iraqi general wasn't as notorious as some of the prisoners he'd interrogated in Afghanistan; nothing like the fervour and steadfastness of the Taliban butchers. Jay convinced himself he'd kept the tape because of its information value. Figured he didn't want it lost or forgotten. He'd accepted that the information had been acted upon at the time, but knew it might come back to haunt him if someone disputed the accuracy or the validity of the interrogation. He had never mentioned the tape to anyone, and made the decision not to mention it now. It seemed to him that if he spoke of its existence, it would somehow escalate his problems.
After noticing his hands had wrinkled, Jay turned off the shower. He towelled off, put on the provided robe and headed for the mini bar.
The urge to drown his troubles crept up on him, competing with the need for sleep. He decided against alcohol and proposed an imaginary toast to Major Bowen with a Coke. He wanted to think things through, but he fell asleep as soon as he lay his head on the pillow.
Blank faces visited him again in his dreams. All shapes and sizes without eyes, nose or mouth. But they still had their ears and hair. They turned their heads toward him as they passed by, some walking with rudimentary canes, some wearing traditional robes, some with a fashion sense stuck in the eighties. They were all going somewhere, yet it was as if they walked out of the scene and re-appeared from a different angle. Like extras in a movie, or a piece of luggage stuck on a conveyor belt. The setting changed in each dream. Always a village he had been through as a soldier. One village per dream played at random. The faces remained unchanged.
He wanted to read their faces to see what they thought of him, to use his skills in interpreting their body language. But they seemed so robotic. He tried to speak to them but they had no mouths to reply. He yelled at them and they scurried away over the rubble. He pleaded with them to communicate but they didn't.
The dream ended the same way every time, with the only face he ever saw. A girl, no older than five, with the smile of an angel. She walked to him, carrying a yellow flower. He always dropped down to one knee and stared into her dark eyes. She was a picture of beauty in a land of madness. Her eyes were empty; she had seen the destruction of her country, yet probably didn't understand. The eyes were pleasing because of their innocence. The eyes of an uncorrupted mind dealing with the hardship of sorrow for her country, and probably for her family.
He marvelled at how her long matted hair bounced off her tiny shoulders. The big knitted blue jumper never changed. He always spent too much time on her eyes and not enough on the bulge beneath her jumper. He held out his hand to take the flower, a symbol of peace, he always told himself. Then he noticed the single teardrop. She lowered her head to her stomach. She screamed and the bomb exploded.
He woke in a pool of sweat. Thinking of the girl and trying to understand the nightmare, he answered a knock at the door at a quarter to noon. He thanked Bill for the parcels, showered again, and pulled on the stiff new clothes. He ordered room service and had club sandwiches and Cokes waiting for Sarah and Bill when they came by.
'Did you see the news, boy?' Bill said.
'No. Why?'
'They've released a picture of you. Fortunately, it's dated. Says you're wanted for murder and that you're probably armed. Our goose of a premier was on the TV saying that every police officer available will be hunting you down. They're making a bigger deal than normal about it.'
Jay shrugged. He
was glad he hadn't shaved. And the suit Bill got him would come in handy for a change of appearance.
'What is our next move?' Bill asked.
'Sarah?'
'We've got a lot to work through. I'll start with my main concern: NSIS,' she said. 'The Director put me on this case. I was pulled from another case to take this on. Then the Deputy Director contacts me and says I am to report to him only. Then there was the message from your dad about the director that doesn't make sense. I've been trying to reach him all morning but his PA says he's unavailable. On top of that, after getting a new battery for my mobile, I've had a dozen fairly nasty messages from the Deputy Director. Wants to know where I am and if you're with me.'
'Did you call him back?' Jay asked.
'Not yet. Something tells me not to.'
'You think he's Sub Rosa?'
'Don't know. Maybe. I've got the feeling that I've been fed information that is of limited use. Also, the time lag between requesting and receiving information is unusually drawn out. Something's not right. But not enough to conclude that he's a bad guy just yet. I suppose I'm buying a little more time to figure this out before I call him.'
'You know your dad never liked him, Jay.' Bill said.
Jay considered this a strange thing for Bill to say. He had assumed his dad hadn't mentioned his work to Bill. 'I knew they weren't best mates, but he never mentioned disliking him.'
'Yep. Your old man once told me that he had a beef with a bloke called Keith in his previous job. Said this bloke had competed with him work-wise for many years.'
'Hang on. Did Dad ever tell you that he was NSIS?'
'No. I always suspected, but after Sarah filled me in on everything last night it all fell into place.'
The hotel phone interrupted.
Jay answered. 'Speak.'
'What kind of way is that to answer a phone? Your dad taught you better than that, Jay.'
Jay looked at Bill. 'Uncle Pat. How did you know ...?'
'I'm on my way up.'
'Who was that?' Sarah asked as Jay put the phone down.
'Your boss.'
'Did you just call him Uncle Pat?' she asked.
'Habit. Always have. He's been like an uncle, even before Mum died.'
'And what did he want?'
'He's on his way up.'
'Shit,' she said. 'How the hell did he know we were here?'
'I'd guess it was the NSIS credit card you used to book the rooms.'
'Shit.'
TWENTY-SEVEN
Bill headed for the door. 'I'll be in my room,' he said.
'No reason for you to leave,' Jay countered.
'You guys have spy stuff to talk about. You'll let me know what I need to know.'
The Director of NSIS arrived at the third-floor room not long after Bill had left.
'Hi, Uncle Pat.' Jay extended his hand and Patrick Goodwin shook it.
'G'day, Jay. Good to see you're safe and sound.'
Sarah got up from a small lounge by the window and greeted her boss. 'Hello, sir.'
'Hello, Sarah. Good job keeping this one safe.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Let's drop the formalities. Pat will be fine.'
Sarah nodded. Jay joined her on the lounge while Pat got comfortable on the edge of the bed.
'Where's Bill?' Pat asked.
'Gone back to his room. How did you know he was here?' Jay asked.
'I have my sources. I want you to fill me in on exactly what has happened.'
Jay recounted the events, from the initial torture to arriving at the hotel, leaving nothing out. Pat nodded and kept the same poker face throughout.
'I've been in this game for over forty years, and I have never seen or heard anything like this. I'm amazed you're still here, Jay.'
'I'm just glad you sent Sarah along.'
Pat nodded. 'My turn, I suppose. I spoke with the PM face-to-face this morning, that's why I'm here. He has given me the authority to brief you two.'
Jay nodded while Sarah took a swig of her drink.
Pat continued. 'After the previous couple of incidents of defence people trying to sell secrets, our allies got a bit anxious and put some pressure on us to tighten access. The Lazarau operation started as a standard operation and I briefed the PM as the information came in. The penny dropped when I informed him that the documents related to the commencement of operations in Iraq. He pulled me aside and told me about your interrogation of the Iraqi, Jay. Nice job, by the way.'
'Thanks, I suppose.'
'The PM thinks very highly of you.'
Jay shrugged. More likely the PM is worried about what I know, he thought. Valuable information that could literally destroy governments. Jay figured the PM would like to see him disappear.
'He asked me to put my best man on Lazarau. I suggested bringing your dad into it and he agreed. I sent Ed in to see Lazarau a couple of times and he made the Sub Rosa link from the tattoo. Don't worry that you missed it, Sarah. Jay's dad was the best agent to ever work for me. He doesn't miss a thing.'
Sarah reddened, maybe a little embarrassed at missing the tattoo; more than likely a little annoyed at the reminder.
'Lazarau gave Primrose up, and your dad started looking into it. Unfortunately, he requested some information through Major Bowen. That was his last report to me.'
'When was that?' Jay asked.
'Last Thursday.'
'That doesn't match up with when Bowen said he picked up Dad. He said Sunday morning.'
'Exactly what I thought when you told the story. That's why I think someone apart from Primrose has got your father. Bowen was played by Catherine Primrose and lied about the two men who turned up for you. And Primrose is a clear lunatic. If he had your father, Ed would probably be dead by now. My guess: whoever is pulling Primrose's strings was also running Bowen.'
'And Bowen was sent to dispose of Primrose, but failed,' Jay said.
'From what you said, the main link there is Catherine Primrose.'
'Whose father happens to be the shadow minister for defence.'
'Yes. An oversight on our behalf for not tracking her more closely. The PM smells a conspiracy from within the opposition ranks on this, but there is no direct link yet between Catherine and her father. As far as we can tell, they haven't been in contact since she took off for the hippie life.'
'Zinner and the PM parted ways on less than amicable terms, didn't they?' Sarah asked.
'Yes. Over the deployment of our troops to Iraq and the WMD thing.'
'No wonder he is bitter. After what Jay found out, seems Zinner has every right to be pissed off at the PM,' she said.
'Seems so, but that's not for us to judge just yet,' Pat replied.
Jay leaned forward. 'Logically, Catherine is communicating with her father through another person. This other person has my dad. Bowen was working for the same person as Catherine. Primrose may or may not know who this other person is, yet Catherine helped him against Bowen.'
'It may have been a way to dispose of Bowen and for Catherine to keep up appearances with her husband, like playing the double agent,' Pat said.
'If that's the case, Primrose won't last long after he hands over that document,' Sarah said.
'And neither will Dad.'
'Which brings me to my next point,' Pat said. 'Two contracts were taken out last night for you two.'
Sarah gasped. 'Professional hits?'
'Yes. I can't stop them. They are firm. A million per hit.'
Jay couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not only were the police after him, he now had to contend with professional hitmen chasing him down. He wasn't enjoying being a fugitive. 'Good to know we're worth that much. I assume there are only two hits because whoever is financing them is the same person who has my father.'
'A good assumption. I was contacted last night by representatives of a major underworld figure. This person bought options on the contracts.'
Jay was incredulous. It sounded like a game failed
entrepreneurs play behind prison bars. 'What does that mean?'
'Means he gets first go at killing you two. Purely financial on his behalf. He offers to take off a percentage if he completes the job within a certain timeframe without having to compete with others.'
'Holy shit,' Sarah said.
Jay ran a hand through his hair, still finding the information hard to fathom. 'What sort of timeframe?' he asked.
'Usually 24 hours. For this job, they realised Sarah was one of my agents and contacted me. We have put some operations against this figure on the backburner in exchange for some breathing space. He got 48 hours on both contracts. He's given me 24 hours to get Sarah out of the country and before he sends someone for you, Jay.'
'So you bought out Sarah's contract but mine still stands?'
'In a way, yes. If Sarah remains in the country, the contract stands. If we send her away, it's overlooked. It's a business decision.'
Jay shook his head and rubbed his eyes. 'When does the 24 hours run out?' he asked.
'Midnight tonight. Sarah, you're on the next diplomatic shuttle out of here this afternoon.'
'I won't go,' she said.
The comment surprised and pleased Jay. He wanted to tell her to go and start a new life somewhere, but didn't.
'It's not a request, Sarah,' Pat said.
'I'm not going, sir. I'm not spending my life running. We'll find whoever is behind the contracts.' She stood up and removed her Glock and identification, and handed them to the Director of NSIS.
'Don't do this, Sarah. You can start with a new identity. Pick your assignment.'
'I'm not running.'
'How did they know about Sarah?' Jay asked. 'Her name hasn't been mentioned during this whole thing.'
'There's someone on the inside of NSIS,' Pat said.
'Who?' Sarah asked.
'I don't know, but Deputy Director Harper is looking into it for me.' He stood up, placed Sarah's Glock at the small of his back and her identification inside his jacket.
Jay wondered why Sarah didn't mention their suspicions about the Deputy Director. He figured she wouldn't want to accuse him of anything without real evidence. More importantly, he wanted to know what sort of backup he would receive from the government. 'What support are we going to get from here on in?' Jay asked.