The Unbroken Line

by Alex Hammond

  This same tension seemed to have wound its way around the room. It spiked as Will stepped through the door.

  ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.

  Evans stood up and frowned. ‘I’m sorry to advise that your client Nicholas Aaron is dead.’

  ‘Killed?’ Will asked through a clenched jaw. Evans was scanning for a reaction, his eyes locked on Will’s.

  ‘Yes.’ Paraskos glowered at him.

  ‘Head busted open on the rim of a toilet bowl,’ said Evans.

  Ivanics.

  In Torquay Aaron had held a small woman so delicately. Three months ago, in his apartment, he’d cut his name into the thigh of a woman. Will let the competing images sit a while longer.

  Paraskos’s arms tightened around herself. ‘Any idea who might have done this?’

  Yes.

  ‘No.’

  Will pushed the door closed behind him. Evans returned to his seat and rested his arm across the back of the couch. ‘We’re thinking it was his suppliers.’

  ‘That they were making sure he didn’t talk,’ said Paraskos. ‘Who’s “they”, Will?’

  He was weak from fighting the urge to just say the word, one word – ‘Ivanics’. How had he become this? Stricken at the death of a violent drug dealer, holding close the secrets of a murderous crime family. It was only morning and he already felt fatigue and nausea washing over him as though he’d been awake for days.

  Just say the name and you’ll be free of this.

  And yet . . . he was a lawyer. What career would he have left if he simply handed over the people who’d sought his counsel, effectively hired him to protect their names? That he’d worked under duress would be lost in the wash-up of the revelation, let alone that he’d be placing his life in danger.

  Will composed himself.

  ‘With all due respect, that doesn’t make any sense. Aaron had just pleaded guilty. If he were going to talk he would have done it earlier, to help bring down his sentence. But, as you already know, he didn’t hand over his suppliers. Even when questioned about them directly.’

  She threw her arms apart and pointed a finger at Will. ‘I agree that this doesn’t make sense. What also doesn’t make sense is that he was going to talk but then you intervened.’

  ‘Intervened? It’s called acting as his defence lawyer. You should look it up.’

  ‘A man is dead and you’re taking cheap shots.’

  ‘Alida,’ said Evans.

  ‘No, fuck this. We know Aaron was working for the Ivanics. Ramir Ivanic was his housemate, he introduced him to the family.’

  ‘Six months ago you didn’t want to hear about it,’ Will said. ‘You didn’t want to know about Aaron or the Ivanics. Now you can’t stop talking about them.’

  ‘Put it down to the good job you did of convincing us,’ Evans said. ‘Are you stepping away from that now?’

  Miller finally moved, raising his hand. ‘Obviously the death of a client is distressing to us. We’ll be happy to help with your investigations where we can. But I can’t see the point of this line of questioning. I can understand that you’re upset. A life has been lost. But do you honestly expect a defence lawyer to supply privileged information to the police —’

  Paraskos opened her mouth to speak but Miller continued.

  ‘— regardless of whether that client is deceased?’

  ‘Not normally, no. But Will here has a habit of playing both sides, don’t ya, Will?’ Evans winked.

  ‘Go fuck —’

  Miller frowned. Will could see him supressing an impulse, strapping on a polite smile and offering his hand to their visitors. ‘Detective. Ms Paraskos,’ Miller said. ‘We’re done here today. If there’s anything we can do to help, we’ll let you know.’

  Neither shook his hand. Evans lifted himself out of the chair and opened the door, his impression lingering in the soft leather. Paraskos swept out after him, her heels clicking across the floorboards.

  Will and Miller stood in silence.

  ‘Did you know they were going to kill him?’

  ‘I was afraid they might. That’s why I recommended he stay quiet.’

  ‘Because I know there was no love lost between you and Aaron.’

  ‘He was a dick, but he didn’t deserve to die. I was fighting to keep the fucker alive.’

  ‘Did you discuss protective custody?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  Will started to walk towards his office. ‘Because it didn’t come up.’

  ‘Bullshit. What’s going on with the Ivanics? I know that one of them was in here the other day.’

  ‘You’re not the only one who has a target on your head. Some of us have been wearing one for a long time.’

  ‘Are they threatening you?’ Miller studied his reactions.

  Will remained still.

  ‘Jesus, Will. I had no idea.’

  ‘Caja was in the office the other day because he was trying to get to the bottom of what Aaron knew. I didn’t tell him. Someone did, though. Someone told them.’

  ‘This isn’t about the drugs, is it? Organisations like that have Chinese walls in place for those sorts of things – plausible deniability.’

  ‘It’s forced prostitution.’

  Miller’s eyes widened. ‘Fuck me. That’s not good.’

  Will shook his head. It felt like a lead weight on his neck. ‘No, it is not. They’re protecting the same person I suspect told them about Aaron.’

  ‘Ramir Ivanic.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Miller was again consumed by thought, watching the motes of dust that floated in wedges of light breaking through the curtains.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Sort it. Something.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Miller shook his head. ‘We really are in the shit, you and I. Who would have guessed we had so much in common. Eloise call?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve asked O’Dwyer to keep an eye on the shop. He believes she’s still in there.’

  Miller chuckled. ‘What if it’s someone else hidden away up there? A family of refugees or something?’

  ‘We make our arguments without her evidence. We’ve got a fallback position.’

  ‘Yes. Pity it’s not a very good one.’

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Late in the afternoon, Will was drawn out of reading evidence briefs by his desk phone ringing. It was a rare enough occurrence that he paused momentarily with his hand on the receiver. Toby had also taken an interest in the strange noise intruding on his napping.

  Will lifted the phone to his ear. ‘Miller Harris, Will Harris speaking.’

  ‘Mr Harris,’ came a deep male voice he didn’t recognise. ‘This is Sergeant Levitt. Sergeant Huynh asked me to return the call on her behalf.’

  The strange, silent cop.

  His voice rattled around in the lower registers, in the style that so many cops seemed to affect, but it was without any of the nasal twang that usually came with it.

  ‘Thanks for calling back,’ Will said.

  ‘Not a problem. I’m guessing you want to meet again to discuss Saxon Walsh?’

  ‘The family and I would like to meet with you, yes. All three of them – Justice Walsh, Sandi and Saxon, of course.’

  ‘It’s Thursday now. Next Tuesday’s Cup Day. How about Wednesday?’

  Will scanned the list Walsh had provided him. ‘Can you come to the judge’s chambers? I see he’s free between twelve-thirty and one.’

  ‘A short meeting?’

  ‘We expect it will be, yes.’

  ‘We’ll see you then.’

  Will had placed the phone back onto its cradle and was typing the meeting into his calendar when there was a light tap on his door.

  ‘Come in,’ he called.

  Teresa Brennan leant her head around the door. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting.’ She was dressed in a full wig and gown, pencil skirt and s
heer stockings. Her shoes had the low heel female barristers tended to wear in court.

  Her smile dropped when she saw his face.

  ‘Bad day?’ she said, walking inside and pulling the door shut behind her.

  ‘Client died.’

  ‘Shit, Will. I’m sorry.’

  ‘He was in prison. Murdered.’

  ‘Christ.’

  Will pushed back his chair and stood, the pain biting in his lower abdomen. He scanned the desk for his painkillers. He couldn’t see them. A dim panic started to build inside him.

  ‘It happens from time to time in our field,’ he said. ‘Clients die. But this was my first.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can go.’ She stood there with a stiff uncertainty.

  Will walked around to the front of his desk. ‘I’m glad for the distraction, actually. Things have been a bit more complicated than usual.’

  ‘So this is the firm,’ she said, scanning the room, its cable moulding and tapestry curtains. ‘It’s, ah, close to the station.’

  ‘It is. It’s also a bit of a hike from the legal district.’

  ‘A little bit.’

  ‘But we like it.’

  ‘That door goes into Miller’s office?’

  ‘It does. Shall I ask him to come in?’

  She scowled and shook her head before walking over to Miller’s door and popping the latch.

  ‘Was I the reason for the visit?’

  She pouted at him and crossed the floor, slipping her fingers into his.

  ‘You were.’ She leant closer to him.

  ‘Anything you wanted? Specifically?’

  ‘This,’ she said, brushing her lips lightly across his. ‘And this,’ she whispered, kissing him. She let out a soft exhale as she did it and Will ran his hand up the back of her silk gown, pulling her closer.

  After a time she pulled away and placed a hand on his face, touching the cuts from the shattered Jag. ‘They’re almost better.’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘The other thing I wanted to do was invite you to a party tonight. For Halloween.’

  ‘It’s Halloween?’

  ‘It is.’ She bit her lip. ‘There’s a networking event being thrown by the Law Institute.’

  ‘You want me to go with you as your date?’

  ‘It might be helpful. You don’t have to stick on my arm all night. Just turn up and leave with me,’ she said, pressing his tie straight.

  ‘Well, since you put it like that, how can I refuse? I’m guessing this is fancy dress.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be Halloween if it wasn’t. So you can be guaranteed a lot of women will turn up looking like hookers.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be Halloween if they didn’t.’

  ‘Meet at your place at seven?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  There was another tap at the door.

  Teresa stepped away from him and adjusted her skirt and gown.

  ‘It’s probably Chris,’ Will said.

  ‘Does he know?’

  ‘No. Would it matter?

  ‘No.’

  The knock on the door was louder this time.

  ‘Come in,’ Will said, as Esther poked her head through the gap between the door and its frame.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might want to know. Ms Mercuri is here to see you.’

  A few lines formed between Teresa’s manicured eyebrows, as though she were trying to place the name. Her face switched suddenly to surprised recognition as Esther opened the door wider.

  Eva was standing behind her.

  Her hair was dyed black and cut in a tight bob. Other than the fake-fur fringing on the hood of her jacket, she was dressed in black – skirt, stockings, heavy boots. In one hand she pulled a small case for carry-on luggage; in the other was a bag of duty-free.

  That she had so radically transformed her appearance was immaterial to the glistening scars down both cheeks. It took only that instant of recognition for Teresa to turn bright red. It took only an instant more for Eva to narrow her gaze as she came to the full realisation of what she’d interrupted.

  Will felt a tightening in his chest. The tingle of an undiagnosed emotion raced through his body. His head felt light. He wanted to rush to her, to hold her tight, but felt the heavy anchor of Teresa’s presence next to him.

  ‘Will,’ Eva said. ‘I can come back if there’s a better time.’

  ‘No,’ said Teresa. ‘I’m finished here. I can leave.’

  ‘I . . .’ Will couldn’t find the words, much less move.

  Teresa brushed past Eva. Although Teresa was taller she seemed to duck around Eva as she moved through reception and out towards the stairs.

  Only now did Will see Miller, book in hand, looking up from the library overflow in reception.

  He raised an eyebrow at Will and held a hand up to his face, miming a phone while mouthing, ‘Fake call?’

  Will shook his head. ‘Come in, Eva. Thanks, Esther.’

  Immediately he could sense the vast gulf between them. That she was standing less than a metre away meant nothing. She might as well have been a mile away. He was set back in his own head, his voice coming from someone else. All he could do was stand by and watch.

  Eva put down the carry-on and pulled a bottle of vodka out of the duty-free bag.

  ‘This is for our conversation.’

  ‘Our conversation?’

  ‘I got your email. I need to know what’s going on. It’s the only reason I’m back in Melbourne.’

  Those words hung in front of him, like a broken puzzle. He had no idea what that meant. ‘Should we talk?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Eva looked at him. Gone was the playful turn of her mouth. This was the face of someone preparing for battle.

  He closed the door and pulled over a chair to face his desk. As he plucked two glasses down from the shelves behind it, he found his painkillers. Doing so brought him no relief as he watched Eva sit across from him. He placed the tumblers between them; she unscrewed the cap from the bottle and poured generous slugs into both glasses.

  ‘I think I should explain,’ Will said.

  ‘Why? I told you we were through.’

  ‘Because I could seem callous. It could seem very fast.’

  ‘It could seem that way. Yes.’

  ‘But it’s not like that.’

  ‘You knew her from before.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I recognise her. She’s that barrister from the Kier trial you and Chris were running earlier this year.

  ‘Yes. She’s a prosecutions lawyer. Senior counsel.’

  ‘But not here for business . . . Here for pleasure.’

  She was taking her time, although it brought her no joy. He could see that in the sour twist of her face.

  ‘That’s right.’

  Eva drank the entire shot of vodka. Will did the same, the hard liquor burning all the way down. He followed it with a painkiller.

  Eva watched him without emotion.

  ‘I had to come to find out what was happening with those men who attacked us. I thought I’d find you surrounded by evidence. I thought I’d find you hunting them down, day and night.’

  ‘I am —’

  ‘Because that’s what you do, right? You’re Will Harris. You find the men who hurt women and you bring them to justice.’

  ‘It’s not quite —’

  ‘That’s what you did for Mischa. That’s what you did for that dead girl. That’s why you got stabbed twice in the stomach, cut across your chest, your patella torn loose, the serious blood loss.’

  ‘Eva . . .’

  ‘Am I not worth that to you? Will? Am I not worth just a small part of all that effort?’

  ‘You are. There are things . . . a lot of things going on at the moment. I have someone looking into it.’

  ‘You outsourced? Oh, that’s just perfect.’

  ‘An ex-cop who works for me. He’s much better at this than I am. Here,’ he said, tossing her the pa
d of notes he’d made after meeting with De Marco. ‘Those men are Jared Emmet and Colin Gregory. One of them, the one who . . . He’s done it before. In Afghanistan, to other women.’

  Eva moved her hand up to her mouth.

  ‘They’re still here in Melbourne. I’m going to find them and give their names to the police, turn them in to Haigh.’

  ‘Other women?’ Eva whispered, her hand trembling at her mouth.

  ‘That’s right.’

  She was shaking now. As he moved to place his hand on hers, Eva slowly raised her hand.

  So this is where we’ve come to.

  ‘Chris is in trouble as well,’ Will said. ‘I’m stretched between this, that and three other cases. That’s why I asked for O’Dwyer’s help.’

  Eva closed her eyes, breathed in, and reopened them before placing the pad back on the table. ‘So what now?’

  ‘I wait to hear from O’Dwyer about their location. Haigh will search for their boots. Match them to the cast taken at the scene of the accident and then arrest them.’

  ‘But they’re in the army. Won’t they just —’

  ‘They might. There may also be elements within the police trying to conceal this, but the media picked up the story so it became too public to ignore. When we get them, they’re done. That’s what I hope.’

  Will’s mobile phone buzzed on the table between them. It read Teresa Brennan.

  ‘Pick it up. It’s fine.’

  ‘No,’ said Will. ‘You must have other things you want to talk to me about. You’ve come a long way. The least I can do is —’

  The phone started to ring again. The caller ID read Eloise.

  Will snatched the phone from the table.

  Eva glared at him and started to stand.

  ‘Hello? Eloise?’ Will put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Eva. ‘Please. Stay. This is the woman who can verify Chris’s story. It’s a very important call.’

  Her face switched again, the scars straightening, no longer crooked brackets around her mouth.

  ‘Hello?’ said the faint voice on the other end.

  Will turned his back to Eva, giving himself no opportunity for distraction as he chose his words. ‘Eloise, thank you for calling.’

  ‘I think they’re watching me, from across the road.’

  ‘Who are “they”?’