The Unbroken Line

by Alex Hammond

  ‘Is he okay? Chris?’

  ‘I mean it,’ Will said. ‘I know a few people. I could talk to them, find you somewhere else by the end of the week.’

  He felt numb as he said it, as though the words dropped from his mouth and lay there on the floor, shameful and obscene. He looked at Haideh and started to compose an apology, for failing in his responsibilities, for having given her hope.

  She spoke quickly and without hesitation. ‘That’s probably the smart thing to do. But I’ve never been that kind of woman. My parents left Iran so I wouldn’t have to live under a vindictive and small-minded theocracy. Each day that I don’t have to deal with religious oppression is a win as far as I’m concerned. Your issues are pretty small in the grand scheme of things. But thanks for the offer anyway.’ She took a bite from the croissant. ‘So how is he?’

  ‘Not great, as you can imagine. But we do have a plan.’

  ‘A plan is always good. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Not right now. But there may be. Down the track.’

  ‘Good,’ Haideh said, as she patted the doorframe she was leaning against. ‘Oh, and there was a courier for you this morning. Dropped a package into your office.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Will said, walking through to his office, where Toby was sniffing the corners of the package that lay in the middle of the desk.

  ‘Anything of interest?’ Will asked.

  The cat narrowed its eyes as if to dismiss the absurdity of his talking to him. Will dropped his satchel onto the desk and lifted up the parcel. For once it was intended for him, not Miller, having been sent over by Sergeant Levitt.

  Inside was a DVD with the words CCTV Camberwell Station 17:30–18:30 Friday, 11 October. Will sat down at the desk as Toby inched an exploratory paw into the empty packaging.

  It was that same footage of Saxon and Connor on the walkway. No less disturbing on the second viewing. Strange that the police had been so prompt in sending it through. Then again, this was the son of a judge. Undoubtedly Levitt and Huynh were smart, politically astute cops. He was unlikely to see any foot-dragging on evidence requests.

  The footage reached the point at which Connor was saying something to Saxon.

  No sound on CCTV.

  Unless . . .

  Will grabbed his satchel and walked back through to reception. Esther was shrugging off a mustard coat behind her immaculate desk.

  ‘Good morning, Will.’ She started unravelling an olive-green scarf that matched the pendulous earrings rocking below her neat white bob. ‘You’re looking a lot better today.’

  She’s lying. He’d barely slept.

  ‘Esther, I need the benefit of your experience.’

  ‘Anything to help,’ she said, walking around to the front of the desk towards him.

  ‘Have you ever had to use a lip-reader for any of your old cases?’

  ‘I think you’ll find that’s a forensic speech reader.’

  ‘I have some CCTV footage of a client. The victim . . . the alleged victim talks to him in the video. The resolution isn’t great but I’m hoping you might know of someone discreet, someone who understands privilege and confidentiality.’

  ‘I can call around. One of the other secretaries might know.’

  ‘We need to very careful with this one. Ideally I’d like them to view the DVD in my presence. No sending it out. The client’s father is high-profile, so if this gets out . . .’

  Esther mimed zipping her lips.

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’

  ‘And Chris?’

  ‘Something’s up, Esther. Could be political. We’re working on a way out of it.’

  ‘So you haven’t seen the papers, then?’

  ‘No.’

  She held out the front page. Below the masthead heralding the arrival of the spring racing carnival was an article: Drug Link to Lawyer.

  ‘Shit,’ Will said. ‘They cover themselves for contempt?’

  ‘They did. But, then again, I’m not a lawyer,’ she said, handing the paper to him.

  ‘You know more than a lot of the lawyers in this town.’

  ‘You’ll read it?’

  ‘Later. I need to blitz through this meeting with Aaron so I can go and pick up Chris.’

  Esther nodded. ‘Stick in there, Will. I know you’ll get him out of it.’

  Will offered a faint smile in return.

  We can only hope.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Will pressed the phone against his ear as the cab headed up Spencer Street. This was not a call he wanted to take, but delaying the inevitable wouldn’t improve his day.

  ‘Nicholas Aaron is talking to the police.’ Caja didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to shout to make himself heard.

  ‘What? When?’ Will asked.

  There was only silence on the other end. Will would be here all day if he waited for the Serb to speak.

  ‘I’m on my way to talk to Aaron now.’

  Caja clicked his tongue, the moist thwack reverberating down the speaker and into Will’s ear. ‘Good.’

  ‘What has Aaron been saying?’

  ‘We need you to find out.’

  ‘Your informant couldn’t tell you?’

  ‘No. That is why we have friends like you.’

  ‘They’re not really your friends if you have to use fucking leverage to get them to help you.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

  The red brick of the Melbourne Assessment Prison rose up ahead of them. Will tapped the windscreen and the driver slowed the cab.

  ‘I’ll stop him from making the deal.’

  ‘What he knows, this is what we want now.’

  ‘He’s my client. We have privilege. Our agreement is for me to make sure that he doesn’t talk to the police. That’s all.’

  ‘Now our agreement changes. This is the way of life.’

  ‘Caja —’

  ‘You think we are to be fucked with? Is this what you think? We can come for you, your family any time we want. We come and we put them in the earth. Do not test us.’

  The icy monotone of Caja’s voice pushed away the looming red brick of the prison and the lemon scent of the cab seats, worn smooth by thousands of fares. Will was in himself now, the world reduced to only the sense of his own failing, vulnerable body.

  He slipped the driver a twenty and stepped onto the footpath.

  This momentum helped to shape the words as he spoke them.

  ‘I will get Aaron to sign a confession. I will get him to stay quiet about what he knows. I will tell you what he was going to bargain with. And then we’re done.’

  Caja exhaled, blowing into his phone. Somewhere he was smoking, looking across the same grey day.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Then the debt is repaid.’

  Will started to walk. The interview room, Aaron, the end of all this – it was only metres and minutes away.

  ‘Fine. I’ll have that in place by the end of the day.’

  Will tried to recall the number of times he’d sat in the bleached white room, its walls scuffed and pitted with the marks of hundreds and hundreds of inmates.

  Was it twenty? This room or another?

  They were designed to be disorienting. The same dimensions, the same bright red plastic chairs, the tables bolted to the floor, their surfaces engraved with dates and profanities.

  Hells Angels deal herion. A revelation or confession? Certainly not a spelling lesson.

  Justice or just us? Obvious.

  Sheehan is a bitch dyke. He was sure his mother would appreciate that.

  Acts 22:16. A revivalist or Catholic?

  The guard opened the door and Nicholas Aaron shuffled in. The olive of his prison tracksuit reflected the sickly sheen of his pallid skin. His left trouser leg was rolled to the knee, revealing a wiry calf covered with a tattoo of a fighting rooster.

  Aaron slumped into the opposite chair, chewing gum. The ragged beard was gone, his thin cheekbones and the tattoos that crested h
is collar now visible. Small holes in his ears and lip marked the places where his piercings had been.

  ‘How you going, Nick?’

  ‘The fuck you care.’

  Aaron spat the gum onto the ground.

  Will leant back into his chair.

  ‘You’re right, Nick. I don’t particularly care that you’re in prison. I think this is exactly the right place for you. But I do care that you see out your time alive and without injury. Arsehole you may be, but I still believe in the sanctity of life.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You met with the cops without me, Nick.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, you’re a fucking idiot.’ Will jabbed his finger in Aaron’s direction. ‘We have a thing called lawyer–client privilege. It means I can’t talk about what you say and that I can’t be made to talk about it.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do, huh? Well, what’s the fucking point of it if you go talking to the police behind my back? It doesn’t protect you, it doesn’t help your case. It makes things worse. It’s a betrayal of your trust in your lawyer.’

  Aaron leant across the table. ‘Trust? You’re the Ivanics’ lawyer. Not mine. I’m not fucking stupid.’

  ‘Yes, you are. Because I meant what I said. I don’t want to see you dead. And that’s what they’ll do if they get nervous. They’ll just fucking kill you. I might not like you but I like them even less. That much you can trust.’

  Aaron’s face was red, casting a ruddy glow over the tattoos on his neck. He blinked at Will and, finally, sat back in his chair.

  ‘So what now?’ Aaron asked.

  ‘Whatever you said, I’ll quash. I wasn’t there. I should have been. Fucking Evans knew that.’

  ‘They said they could reduce my sentence.’

  ‘He was just fishing for your supplier and you were dumb enough to take the bait.’

  Aaron shoved his hands into his pockets and chewed on his bottom lip. He swung his head from side to side, glowering at Will. ‘They didn’t ask about my supplier.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘Evans asked me who was paying your bill.’

  The interview room started to feel small, pressed in, airless.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I didn’t know who was paying your bill.’

  Will started to breathe again.

  Aaron sensed his discomfort and grinned. ‘I’m assuming it’s Ram’s family.’

  ‘I don’t see the point of being smug about it. Ram is the one looking out for you. He was smart enough to come to me for help.’

  ‘But why you? I’ve had a lot of time to think and none of this makes sense. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re really looking out for me at all.’

  ‘Of course I am. Ram has seen first hand what I’ll do for my clients. He knows I’ll protect you. But I can’t do that if you’re talking to the police. Did you say anything else?’

  ‘About the girls?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No. They kept asking me questions about you – why I wanted you as my lawyer, where we first met, how it was you contacted me to turn myself in.’

  ‘Absolutely nothing about your case, though?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘So what do you know, Nick?’

  Aaron scanned his face. Will held his glare and said, ‘Privilege. Remember?’

  Aaron nodded. ‘A year ago, when I started to get in with Ram’s people, I had to make a dropoff. To a restaurant in Melton.’

  ‘Do you remember the name?’

  Aaron scowled at him and shook his head. ‘Why would I remember that?’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘There was no parking on the street, yeah? So I drove the car around to this sketchy-looking car park. More like an empty lot – broken bottles, an old couch, weeds growing everywhere. Seeing as I was there, at the back of the place, I thought, Fuck it, I’ll save myself the walk.

  ‘There were a few bins and a heavy-looking guy. I told him I was a friend of Ramir. That I had a delivery. The dude nods at me, smiling, a knowing wink and all that bullshit. He walks me in the back of the place, past the kitchen and up some stairs. There’s a kind of small lobby in front of a short hallway with maybe four doors coming off it. The tiles on the floor were new.

  ‘At that moment, two big guys come out of one of the rooms. They’re talking in Serbian and laughing. One’s fastening his belt, the other’s wiping blood off his knuckles with a pair of panties. The door to the room behind them is still open. They can see that I’ve just looked inside, and the guy with the blood starts shouting and I just hold out the delivery like I’m retarded. The whole time, I’m shitting myself.

  ‘Anyway, I’m hustled back down the stairs. I’m made to wait outside the kitchen, fucking freezing my arse off, for another thirty minutes before a third guy, some small accountant-looking dude, comes down and says he’s sorry for the mix-up. He takes the package and slips me a hundred bucks, telling me that they’ll forget about it if I do.’

  ‘So, what did you see in the room?’

  Aaron glanced up at Will. The edges of his mouth were trembling, his face pale.

  ‘Nothing.’ Aaron scratched his arms and stared at the wall. ‘About a week later I asked Ram about it. He said I should listen to what the dude said and forget I ever saw anything. He said his uncle was very fucking uptight about people knowing about that place. That part I definitely understood.’

  Will ran his hands down the sides of his face. His fingers were cold and helped to focus his mind.

  ‘I’m not going to bullshit you, Nick. The Ivanics want to know what you know.’

  ‘Fuck.’ He started to scratch his wrists. He stared at the ceiling as tears formed at the edges of his eyes.

  Will knocked the desk between them, which regained Aaron’s attention. ‘But I’m going to talk to Ram, okay? Get him to work with me on this and see if I can convince the Ivanics that you know nothing.’ He slid a pad over to Aaron. ‘Write down his phone number for me and I’ll set up a meeting.’

  ‘And the cops?’ Aaron asked, wiping his eyes with one hand as he wrote with the other.

  ‘Telling them isn’t going to keep you safe, Nick. The Ivanics have a source in the police.’

  Aaron gripped the sides of his head as the tears ran freely. ‘What am I going to do? What the fuck?’

  ‘Stick with me on this, Nick, and I’ll get you out of it. Our goal is keeping you alive and safe. There’s nothing the cops can do for you. Got it?’

  Beneath the neon lights Aaron looked pallid and grey, the ink of his tattoos somehow over-saturated, as though they were drawing the life from him.

  He raised his head and nodded once. ‘Got it.’

  Will stood and crossed the room to the door. He tapped on the small, reinforced pane to attract the attention of the guard, who then opened the door.

  ‘We’re finished.’

  While Aaron was led out, Will walked back to the lift and took it to the ground floor. As soon as he had left the prison, he flagged down a cab and instructed the driver to take him to Melbourne West Police Station.

  As they drove he dialled Evans. The cop answered almost immediately.

  ‘I was wondering how soon I’d hear from you,’ he said, chuckling and sipping at something from a cup.

  ‘You do realise I will jump on top of anything you try to use from your extracurricular meeting?’

  ‘What meeting?’

  ‘You —’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I know.’

  ‘So why do it? What were you hoping to achieve? Aaron —’

  On the other end of the line, Evans slurped again. Will could hear the thud of ceramic on wood this time. Not a cup, but a mug.

  ‘How deep into this thing are you, Harris?’

  ‘What thing?’

  They had wound back around the west of the city and were now driving past the docklands and the half-constructed high-rises, their lower halves gleaming in
the sunlight.

  ‘Don’t be a dick. The Ivanics. O’Dwyer hinted at a few things before he retired.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, I did some digging behind his back. What do you think? He was my partner, for fuck’s sake. Not a lot he could keep from me.’

  ‘How about we work on getting Aaron to a committal hearing and then tucked away in his prison greens?’

  ‘There’s a bigger case here. You don’t have to obstruct, you could —’

  ‘You know I have ethical obligations that require me not to talk about anything like that.’

  ‘I’ve heard about your ethics. Paraskos tells me the legal commissioner has paid her a visit. They’ve had a chat about you. I think that’s why Feinson’s so keen to know about you and Aaron. She seems to think there’s something fishy going on.’

  Will felt a chill spread through him. Maybe the cop was trying to rattle him, or maybe there was nothing to it, but what if the net was drawing closer around him?

  ‘Harris? Are you still there?’

  He couldn’t show any weakness. Will shook his head and tapped into the frustration that had been growing for days.

  ‘That’s what you heard. Listen to what you’re hearing. My client will confess to the firearm and trafficking charges. Nothing more, nothing less. You won’t get any hints or tips from me about any other criminal dealings. As you said yourself, let’s stop wasting taxpayer money on the bum.’

  The driver accelerated as they hit the highway that bypassed the city.

  ‘The commissioner will get there in the end, Harris. You do know that, don’t you?’

  The cab driver nodded as he pulled up in front of the police station. Miller was waiting inside, away from a small group of eager reporters. When he saw Will, he weaved calmly through the press of digital voice recorders and DSLRs to the opposite side of the taxi and slipped in next to Will.

  ‘I hope she does. Just because I defend criminals doesn’t mean I’m one of them. I look forward to being vindicated.’

  Miller grinned and shook his head.

  ‘So why do it then?’ Evans asked.

  ‘Because the system requires it. Because that’s how we hold it accountable. Without defence lawyers, people would be judged and convicted without a right of reply.’