by J J Cooper
'And then Bowen.'
'Yes, until Bowen came along. Warren was pissed at both of you for the Iraq thing and he figured he could recruit Bowen first. He didn't want to recruit you, just wanted to make you suffer later.'
'He managed that.'
'Warren knew Bowen would be able to get more detailed information than Lazarau so he made me sleep with him and then recruited him.'
'Then why would you and Bowen team up against your husband?'
'Bowen became infatuated with me. He wanted me to leave Warren and to marry him. I played along to keep the information coming. One night he told me that he had contacted your father. He didn't say why, but he said that we would be free of Warren soon. He said we needed you for one document that would make us rich beyond our dreams.'
Jay touched his pocket. 'The interrogation report.'
'Right. Bowen said he had a buyer but wouldn't say who it was. I figure it's the same person who has your father.'
'You don't know who it is?'
'No. I swear I don't.'
It sounded like the truth. 'Why did you tell your husband if you could have just run off with Bowen?' he asked.
'I didn't love Bowen. Warren is my only love . . . was my only love, until you murdered him.' Her voice became edgy.
'Some could argue that I did the world a favour.'
'Yeah, you're good at doing favours for the world, aren't you?'
Bitch, he thought. An obvious assumption from reading the interrogation report. 'I suppose my profession is the world's second-oldest behind yours.'
Catherine was ready to fire back but he cut her off. 'Just keep to the story. Why did you tell Primrose about Bowen?'
She clenched her jaw and took a few deep breaths before responding. 'I told Warren what happened and he figured we should pick you up first.'
'Why didn't you just make me get the document the first night you tortured me?'
'Warren wanted to make you suffer. He also wanted to pay back Bowen. He didn't know the buyer Bowen was talking about, but figured your father had something to do with it. Problem was, Bowen picked up your father first.'
'Sounds complicated, playing both sides like that.'
'I had no choice. I know what you must think of me.'
'We'll get to that later. Why did Primrose still have the document? Why hadn't he already handed it to your father?'
'He figured out who Bowen was working for.'
'Who?'
'He didn't tell me, but it has something to do with that woman who has been with you. I assume the one who rescued you from the military police.'
'It seems strange, Catherine, that there are an awful lot of things your husband didn't tell you. Convenient even.'
'You know how Warren liked to be in control. I didn't ask. I just did what he told me to do.'
'Like screwing me and accusing me of rape.'
She sighed. 'I'm not proud of myself or the things I've done.'
'What about Lazarau?'
'You already know what happened. He got greedy. But we didn't kill him. That was a fortunate coincidence.'
'I bet. A little too coincidental.'
'We had nothing to do with it, I swear. We were planning to shut him up. But we didn't know where he was. Bowen said it would be taken care of and I guess he organised something.'
The puzzle was almost complete for Jay. Someone from NSIS organised Lazarau's transfer, and Bowen was working for someone in NSIS. 'Let's back up a bit. How did you know about Sarah?'
'The woman who has been with you?'
'Yes.'
'Like Bowen said. Taylor and Cliffe told him.'
'That doesn't make sense. Why would you let Bowen go after those two if you and Primrose set them on to me?'
'Bowen was starting to think I would stay with Warren and not run away with him. So we had to give him something to convince him to keep going.'
'And let your husband be captured by Bowen?'
'It was Warren's idea.'
He was a lunatic, Jay thought. 'What did Bowen say about Sarah?'
'He never mentioned her name but said it was OK because she was on his side.'
'What?' Jay prayed she wasn't the NSIS link.
'He wasn't worried. Apparently she and Bowen were on the same side.'
'Same side of what?'
'How the fuck would I know? That's all he said.'
'That can't be right. Fuck!'
'What?' she asked.
Jay stared ahead for a moment, thinking about his next line of questioning. 'How did Primrose know where I was today?'
'He got a phone call from the new buyer of the document. He agreed on the price and told Warren where you were. Warren was to pick you up and question you on the whereabouts of a tape. A video recording of some kind. Warren was mad as hell that he hadn't thought about it. He said you were always a stickler for the rules and would have recorded the interrogation of the Iraqi.'
Jay realised that the only other person who knew about the tape had disappeared. Sarah. 'This new buyer. Is it the person Bowen was working for?'
'Yes. Warren used Bowen's phone to get his details and then called. He offered a lot more than my father.'
'Are you sure the buyer was male?'
'I suppose.'
'Don't suppose. Was it a male or female?'
'Male. Warren kept saying "he".'
'How much?'
'How much what?'
'For the fucking document and tape. How much?'
'One million.'
'Holy shit.'
'I've read the document. I don't know how you could live with yourself. Bowen was right. You've got innocent blood on your hands. In the wrong hands, that document is valuable. A video of the interrogation is priceless.'
Jay reached into his bag for Primrose's phone. He flicked to the dialled calls. The same number appeared three times in the last day. He rang the number. A familiar voice answered.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Jay pulled the phone from his ear and fumbled to end the call. He hung up on Uncle Pat.
'What is it?' Catherine asked.
He didn't answer, just stared at the phone. The betrayal he hadn't expected and couldn't fathom. Both Uncle Pat and Sarah. The whole thing had been a set-up. Sleeping with a beautiful woman had brought him unstuck again.
The phone vibrated in his hand. The same number appeared – Uncle Pat's. The pit in his stomach filled with rage. He pressed a button, held the phone to his ear and grunted.
'Why did you hang up?' Pat asked.
'It's finished and so are you.'
A momentary silence and a sigh echoed down the line. 'That you, Jay?'
The knot in his stomach tightened. 'What happened to you? Kidnapping Dad and then sending Sarah to get information from me? And to top it all off you send Primrose after me?'
'Hold on there, Jay. You've got it all wrong. This is Keith's phone. He set all of this up. We're after Primrose. Where is he?'
'Don't lie to me! Primrose is dead. He failed. Now, where's Dad?'
'I don't know yet.'
'What do you mean you don't know? No more games! Where the fuck is he?'
'Let's keep this civil and we'll sort this mess out together.'
Jay lowered his tone. 'Where is he?'
'We have some leads and two teams of agents are working on them. Let's meet and talk about it.'
'I'll meet you and bring the fucking document and tape as long as you bring Dad.'
'I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Jay. I'm telling you now that I'm one of the good guys. Think about how long we've known each other. We're family. It's good you got the document back, but I've got no idea what tape you're talking about. Where are you?'
Jay was thrown. He didn't know what to believe anymore. He wanted it over with and to know that his dad was safe. He took a deep breath. 'On my way to Brisbane.'
'Good. There's an industrial estate at the back of Strath-pine –'
'In public.'<
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'Fine. Any place in mind?'
'Westfield Shopping Centre, Strathpine. At the food court. I'll be there in two hours. Just you.'
'I trust you'll be bringing Sarah?'
Jay thought it a strange comment. Pat should know that Sarah wasn't with him. 'Doubt it.'
'Just yourself then?'
Jay looked over to Catherine. 'Yeah, just me.'
'OK, Jay. Just stay calm and level-headed. We can sort this out.'
Jay hung up and looked at Catherine. 'Do you know where Strathpine is?'
'No.'
'Just head for the north side of Brisbane.'
'OK, but I need to stop for a bathroom break.'
'Can't it wait?'
'No.'
'Next service station. But I warn you – nothing funny. I still need you to get the authorities off my back over this rape rubbish and about Bowen.'
'Of course. I want my life back too.'
They took the next exit ramp that fed into a combined service station and variety of fast-food outlets. As instructed, Catherine parked far enough away to avoid the pedestrian traffic but still allowed Jay a view of the front entrance.
Catherine left the BMW running and went inside. Jay lit a cigarette and waited. He considered Pat's comment about Sarah. An interesting assumption. Why would Pat think Sarah was with him? He didn't know who to believe – an unusual circumstance for him. He was always so calculated and thorough in his analysis of information, yet this whole situation had thrown him off-course a number of times. He didn't like to be unsure of events, and was always meticulous in his planning and preparation, yet he now found himself constantly on the back foot, searching for information.
A police car parked in front of the entrance. Jay stiffened. The driver got out and stretched while another officer made his way inside.
Jay flicked his cigarette butt out the window. He noted how the officer who remained at the car was stretching. Done in a fashion that allowed him to turn in a semi-circle and observe all vehicles in the lot. It appeared to be a habit. Perhaps his imagination was getting the better of him, but Jay thought the officer paused longer on the BMW and stared at him. The officer held his gaze and bent into his car. He withdrew the handset for his CB radio and began to talk into it while still looking at Jay.
The automatic doors of the building opened and Catherine walked out. She glanced at the police officer and then at Jay, who held his breath and undid his seatbelt. Catherine stopped, smiled at Jay and then turned her attention to the police officer.
Shit!
The conversation between Catherine and the police officer didn't last long. She turned and walked back into the building without looking at Jay.
No doubt she'd mentioned that Jay was a fugitive. He slid across to the driver's seat, threw the gear stick into drive and pressed hard on the accelerator. The police officer dropped the CB handset and reached for his service revolver as the tyres of the BMW screamed for grip.
The car lurched forward. Jay swung the steering wheel for the exit. The police officer stepped toward the accelerating vehicle with his pistol raised in front of his eyes. Jay dropped his head toward the passenger seat just before the window above his head exploded and showered him with glass. He held tight with one hand on the steering wheel and swung it a quarter turn to the right, calculating the distance to the entry back onto the highway. He counted to three and raised his head so his eyes peered over the dashboard. He swung hard left and the tyres screamed at him again. The BMW gained momentum as it launched down the ramp and onto the highway. Already faster than the highway traffic, Jay edged ahead of a furniture truck and used it as cover. He wanted the next exit ramp before the pursuing police could catch up. It came up quickly and at the last minute he swung off and accelerated. He checked his mirrors and couldn't make out any police vehicles or hear any sirens.
After slowing to normal speed and navigating some back streets, he found himself in the carpark of Beenleigh train station. He parked at the back of the station, away from the CCTV cameras.
He spent the ten-minute wait for the next train nervously looking around, expecting the police to pull into the station. He purchased a one-way ticket to Strathpine and, after hearing the announcement, willed the train to the platform. He checked his watch as the front of the train glided past: 11.34 am.
The train came to a halt and the graffiti gained a new audience. He climbed on the last carriage and sat in the back corner. A few faces were scattered around the carriage, mainly bored teens listening to iPods or reading magazines. Nobody paid him any attention and he stared out the window, mulling over the last few days. How one interrogation years before had torn his world apart. How he'd become a fugitive and a killer. How he'd climbed to the top of his chosen profession and had been reckless in his choice of women.
He changed trains at Central station. While waiting for the next train he called Bill and briefly explained the situation. Although Bill agreed to help him, he was reluctant to drive Jay's Chevy to the station to pick him up. Jay convinced him there would be a better chance of winning the lottery than being caught driving unlicensed over the ten-minute drive.
Halfway through the journey, two transit officers entered the rear carriage. Jay remained surprisingly calm for a fugitive. The fight for redemption and to save his father had strengthened his resolve. He wasn't worried about these two rent-a-cops.
Jay was amused by the appearance of both men. One was well into semi-retirement and carried far too much weight to be chasing fare-evaders. His partner was in striking contrast. A face that hardly got a shave – probably because it didn't need it. Obviously straight out of high school. This one walked like a cop, or at least how cops walk in movies. His pants were slipping down with each step, weighed down by the assortment of gimmicks on his belt: notepad, water bottle, mobile phone, CB radio and what appeared to be a small medical kit. These two clowns weren't threatening at all.
The younger one approached Jay while the older one waited at the door, wheezing. Hitching up his trousers, the younger one asked, 'Ticket?'
No wonder these guys have got a bad name, Jay thought. No manners and poor professional appearance. He retrieved his ticket and presented it wordlessly. The transit officer studied it as though Jay were claiming it as a winning lottery ticket.
'Where are you going to, mate?'
Jay couldn't resist. 'What's it say there on the ticket, sport?'
The officer looked up and tried his hardest to give an evil stare. If the situation were different, Jay would have laughed.
'I know what it says on the ticket.' He continued the stare. 'I just want to make sure you're not going to be travelling any further without fare.'
There were so many comebacks just hanging from the edge of Jay's tongue. All the while, his brain told him to zip it. 'I wouldn't do that, officer. That would be downright dishonest. And I'm an honest man, so my pastor says anyway.' He just wanted the kid to leave him alone.
The officer nodded and turned toward the next passenger a couple of seats away. He took a step and stopped. Jay noticed him tense. He turned back to Jay, this time with a frown. 'Do I know you? Your face looks familiar.'
'I did an ad once that was fairly popular. You probably remember me from that. My fifteen seconds of fame.'
The officer cocked his head. 'An ad? What ad?'
'Beer ad – Victoria Bitter. I was riding a bull at a rodeo.'
'No. Can't say I remember that one.' He shrugged and turned away.
Jay breathed a sigh of relief and watched the transit officers roam between passengers, checking their tickets. As they got to the end of the passage, the younger one leaned in close to his partner and said something. The partner stiffened, turned and looked directly at Jay. His eyes widened.
Jay knew he had been recognised – and not from the beer ad.
THIRTY-NINE
The older transit officer withdrew a document from his trouser pocket, unfolded it and held it at arm's length f
rom his eyes. He flicked his gaze from the document to Jay. Not very subtle. The younger one grabbed his partner's shoulder and motioned for him to move to the next carriage. They went through the doors and stopped immediately on the other side. Both looked back through the glass partitions toward Jay. Apparently, the partition made them invisible.
Jay didn't feel threatened; it was common knowledge that transit officers wielded little power over the public. They even had difficulties issuing fare-evasion fines as offenders weren't required to produce identification. Jay recalled reading somewhere that most fines were issued to fictitious persons. No wonder the job attracted types like the two trying to use covert surveillance techniques from the next carriage.
The voice over the train speakers announced that they were approaching Carseldine station. Only one more stop at Bald Hills before Strathpine. It was now a matter of time. Jay knew the transit officers would be calling the police, he could see the younger one with the mobile phone at his ear. He didn't need these two relaying updates to the authorities. As the train pulled into Carseldine, Jay moved to the exit.
The train stopped and the door locks released. Jay hit the platform and started at a quick pace toward the front of the train. He was glad the train only had three carriages.
The younger transit officer's head poked out of the doors of the next carriage. He pulled it back inside when he saw Jay approaching. Jay found it hard not to laugh at their comedy act.
Beside the doors to the front carriage, Jay stopped and pretended to tie up a shoelace. He glanced back. As predicted, the two officers had left their carriage and were ambling towards him. Jay heard the announcement he was waiting for: Doors closing. Please stand clear. As the hydraulics began to force the doors closed, Jay leapt straight into the carriage as they closed a whisker behind him. He moved to the window and waved to the transit officers, who stood frozen to the platform. As the train rolled out, the younger one began running toward the carriage Jay had entered. The older one turned toward the back of the train and raised his hands, an obvious signal to the train guard. The train slowed and pulled up before the end of the platform. Shit, Jay thought. Time for plan B.