Assassin

by Tara Moss

  ‘But why abduct her?’

  ‘Why set up this whole confessional scene? He wanted her to see it? To witness it?’ Andy theorised.

  ‘She doesn’t seem to think she witnessed anything. She told me she was at the bar and he came in, and then she started to feel very intoxicated and she blacked out.’

  Rohypnol possibly, or GBH, Andy thought. Jesus, Dana. He inhaled sharply. She was lucky to be alive.

  ‘Be easy on her,’ Kelley said again.

  A uniformed constable opened the door for him and Andy saw a rainstorm had hit. Within Dayle’s dark house he hadn’t noticed the thunderous din of the rainfall outside. He could see Dana’s profile as she waited in a car in the lane, staying out of the downpour.

  He paused before ducking under the police tape. ‘Are you finished with my agent for now?’

  ‘Yeah. I’d like to speak to her again this afternoon,’ Inspector Kelley said. ‘Or tomorrow, depending on how she’s doing.’

  ‘I’ll give you a call and we’ll come to your office.’

  Andy ran over to Mahoney’s unmarked car, hands shielding his eyes from the wet. He knocked on the window and Karen opened the car door.

  ‘Quite a mess in there,’ she remarked and stepped out with an umbrella. She opened it and struggled to avoid jabbing him in the eye.

  ‘Thanks for your help, Mahoney. I’ll chat with Harrison now. Come on. Let’s go for something to eat,’ he told his junior agent. She walked with him to his Honda in a bleak march, shrugging off Mahoney’s umbrella and not even attempting to keep the raindrops off her own face. She slid into his passenger seat without a word and Andy started his car.

  ‘Okay, let’s have it,’ Andy said.

  Agent Flynn and Agent Harrison sat at a small table in a mostly empty café in Darlinghurst. Before them were plates littered with the remnants of breakfast — scrambled eggs and scraps of toast. They were not far from St Vincent’s — the hospital where Andy’s agent had been treated overnight without his being told, and his closest friend, Jimmy, was, according to Angie, being prepped for further surgery for complications from the gunshot wound inflicted, some believed, by his ex-girlfriend Makedde.

  It was not a good day and Andy was not feeling particularly patient.

  ‘I’m deeply sorry I’ve let you down. That’s all I can say,’ Agent Dana Harrison told him. She looked up at him with puffy red eyes, then looked to the table again. She gripped her ceramic coffee cup as though it were a lifeline.

  ‘No, that’s not all you can say,’ he countered, his voice low. ‘You can tell me what the hell you were thinking. I mean, what were you doing at the White Cockatoo?’

  She hesitated, probably trying to decide what story to give. ‘I went out. I was having a drink,’ she said, cagey.

  He crossed his arms and leaned back. ‘Any particular reason you picked that bar, in Sydney, to drink alone?’

  She stared down at her plate. She’d barely eaten, he noticed. Andy let it go for a minute, let his question hang in the air. And then he couldn’t leave it be any longer.

  ‘Would I be safe in assuming that your gun is in your gun locker at AFP, locked away where it should be?’

  She swallowed.

  Fuck. ‘Please tell me I won’t find that you were at a bar, off duty, carrying a loaded gun?’

  ‘I fucked up,’ she said so quietly he could have missed it.

  ‘Dammit,’ he muttered. ‘You weren’t authorised. You didn’t have authority to go after him, Dana.’

  ‘I wasn’t really going after him. I was just … I was just going to see —’

  ‘You didn’t have authority to follow him. Or use yourself for bait, goddammit, if that’s what you were thinking. He could have killed you. He drugged you and he could have done anything. He could have used your own weapon on you.’

  She raised her cup to her lips, hands shaking slightly.

  Take it easy on her, Inspector Kelley had said. Andy tried to calm himself. She had a promising career, but she’d shown poor judgement. Very poor judgement. She’d nearly got herself killed.

  ‘We’ll get through this. So what happened? What really happened?’ he pleaded softly and waited for her to answer in her own time.

  ‘I went to the bar and ordered a drink. A virgin cocktail,’ she explained. ‘I’m not stupid. Yes, I had my firearm on me, but I was not drinking. After a while I spotted him. I was on my third cocktail by then, I think, and I swear none of them were alcoholic. You can ask the bartender. I noticed Dayle notice me and he walked past close and sat nearby. I was nervous and thirsty so I guess I drank my glass pretty fast after that. It didn’t taste different and I didn’t realise what was happening until it was too late. When the drink was nearly finished, he still hadn’t approached me again, but my head wasn’t right. I was feeling intoxicated, a bit light-headed. Before I knew it, he was right there next to me and I couldn’t … couldn’t …’

  Andy leaned forwards, placing a hand on hers. ‘You’re okay. You’re okay now,’ he said.

  Maybe he didn’t have to check into the firearm. She hadn’t discharged it. Dayle had not been killed with it. It might not come up as an issue, and if it did, he could say she had been on call and might have needed it. He could do that to cover her, couldn’t he?

  ‘So you weren’t drinking and the blood tests will show that?’ he pressed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said with conviction.

  That was a small mercy.

  ‘Because if you were found to be out drinking, off duty, with your gun, I might not be able to prevent you from being charged.’

  She nodded. ‘I was not drinking.’

  ‘Okay, then what happened?’ he prompted her.

  ‘Things seemed to go quickly. I was sweaty and … and I couldn’t think straight. Like I was disoriented and couldn’t focus on anything. And Dayle, whom I’d been watching, was suddenly very close, as I said. There were other patrons in the bar, and I think I tried to call out but realised I couldn’t speak, and then I was just going out the door. I remember the fresh air on the street for a moment. I remember seeing the cars passing. He had me under the arm, I think. He seemed surprisingly strong. I don’t even remember walking, or how I got inside his house.’

  Fuck. Anything could have happened to her. Anything. ‘And then what?’ he said.

  ‘I woke up at St Vincent’s. I was on a drip for hydration. I don’t know how I got there, but apparently paramedics took me. I don’t remember anything else except …’

  ‘Except?’

  ‘Well, this doesn’t make sense, but there was a woman’s voice telling me I would be okay.’

  ‘At the hospital?’

  ‘No. Before then. When I was in the house,’ she said.

  ‘You told Kelley this?’

  ‘I told him. I remember fragments, I think. But it’s confusing. I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. Something about my being on the floor and there being a conversation of some type. There was some talking, I think, between a man and a woman.’

  ‘Dayle was talking to you?’

  ‘No. Someone else I think.’ She frowned and took a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘I don’t know, Andy. I really don’t know.’

  He rubbed his chin, which was rough with stubble. ‘Can you remember anything else?’

  ‘That’s it right now. There was basically nothing from about ten-thirty last night to five o’clock this morning at hospital. Nothing but these kind of impressions, like I said.’

  He thought about that. ‘I want you to write down everything you remember, or think you remember, even if you aren’t sure, okay?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You never know what might be important. Now, tell me, did you have anything to do with what happened to Dayle?’ He watched her carefully.

  ‘What? No.’ She shook her head. ‘Like I said, I don’t remember getting to the terrace or leaving. I don’t remember anything like what happened to him.’

  ‘Do you know what h
appened to him? Did Mahoney or Kelley take you through the crime scene this morning?’

  ‘No. Kelley didn’t want me to see. All I know is that he’s dead. They were trying to get me to describe what had happened, but like I said, I couldn’t remember anything, not even getting to the front door. They had me identify my shoes, which were found at the flat, but Kelley didn’t want me to see the body. I saw a bit, though. I saw that he was in the same room where I was found. He was in a chair.’

  ‘Your shoes were there?’

  ‘Yes … stilettos,’ she said reluctantly and Andy closed his eyes for a moment. Jesus. She wore stilettos. She did use herself as fucking bait.

  Until the blood tests and the crime-scene analysis proved that she could not have done anything to Dayle, she was still to be cleared of any involvement in Dayle’s death, but obviously Kelley didn’t suspect her, and neither did Andy. Still, her actions could reflect very badly on the unit if he wasn’t careful.

  ‘Now, this is what I’m going to do,’ Andy said. ‘I’m going to say that I gave you authority to have your gun with you in case you were needed at short notice, okay? I was in Sydney, so were you, and I asked you to be on call.’

  Her face lit up. She nodded.

  ‘But if you’ve lied to me about not drinking, I can’t help you.’

  She gave him a hard look. She’d been telling the truth about the booze: that was clear.

  ‘And what were you doing at the White Cockatoo?’

  She watched his face, judging how to respond. ‘Meeting a friend,’ she said.

  ‘And Dayle got to you before your friend arrived.’

  She nodded again.

  ‘He probably recognised you from the canvass. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time and you were unlucky.’

  ‘Thank you, Flynn.’

  ‘Second chances are rare, Harrison. I don’t want the SVCP to lose you. We need you, okay? That’s why I wanted you on board. That’s why I wanted you on the Hempsey case. You are a valuable member of our team. Now they’ll be watching you. You can’t fuck up again. I want them to see that you are the switched-on, serious profiler I believe you to be. The profiler you are. You are bloody lucky you didn’t get killed by that sick fucker last night, Harrison. I think you know that.’

  Her beautiful mouth was set in a hard line. He could see that she knew.

  Andy downed the rest of his lukewarm coffee. ‘Well,’ he said and exhaled, glad at least that there could be a way to resolve Dana’s involvement without her being too harshly disciplined for her rash mistake. ‘Whatever the circumstances — and the scene in there is pretty fucking bizarre by my reckoning — we can all be grateful Dayle is dead,’ he said. ‘We can all be bloody grateful for that.’

  CHAPTER 40

  A couple of hours later Andy broke from the hospital doors and breathed the air on the sidewalk. A bus moved away from the kerb with a low roar. He felt like a man who’d been held under water by a wave.

  The day had started rough and hadn’t got much easier.

  Just a decent coffee. A decent coffee and I’ll be okay.

  The stench of grief clung to the corridors of St Vincent’s and two hours of it had been almost enough to kill him. The grief of worried loved ones. The pain. The ordered violence of surgeons. Jimmy was still in theatre. Angie wouldn’t leave the ward. She’d spent another night in a cot next to the bed, her mother bringing Edmond in for feeds.

  Stop thinking about it. Just get a coffee.

  He walked off towards the bustling crowds at the cafés on Victoria Street, feeling lost and somehow unable to decide what to do, where to go, how to approach that simple task of finding sustenance and caffeine. He was missing the company of his former police partner Jimmy perhaps more than he ever had in his life. For all his faults, Jimmy was someone who would have truly understood what all this meant — Hunt, Mak, Jack Cavanagh. Jimmy, whose life was ebbing away before their eyes.

  Jimmy had been put in this situation by Bradley Hunt, someone he deeply mistrusted. He had always joked about Hunt, what a prick he was, how he thought he was in Jack Cavanagh’s pockets. And Andy had dismissed it as jealousy. Just because Hunt was a bit of an annoying dick didn’t mean he was crooked. He had risen the ranks and Jimmy’s lack of political nous saw his career in a stall. Andy hadn’t really listened to Jimmy’s complaints and now it seemed Jimmy had been right about Hunt, had even underestimated how crooked the man was. What else could be made of the footage Mak had brought to Andy’s room? Hunt was lying. Why? He was wound up in this somehow.

  Jimmy was dying, Mak was on the run and there was something in it for Inspector Hunt.

  Andy felt something brush his side and his thoughts were suddenly pulled back into the moment.

  ‘Hey —’

  Instinctively, he grabbed the wrist of a pickpocket dipping into his right suit-jacket pocket. The pocket was empty, he realised. His wallet was in his breast pocket. A small note was folded between long, slim fingers, but in a heartbeat the note had disappeared again, behind the person’s back.

  He saw motorcycle boots and looked up, his gaze meeting a familiar face. It was a tall woman with brunette hair, cut in a messy style and coloured with streaks that didn’t quite suit the beautiful face it half covered. The woman wore motorcycle pants and a singlet top, a hint of dark lace peeking out. Her eyes were hidden behind mirrored aviators. He retracted his hand.

  ‘Meet me at the café with the umbrellas, on Oxford Street, just around the corner, in about five minutes. There are no CCTV cameras around there,’ the woman said, barely moving those familiar lips. She walked past him in the opposite direction. Just two strangers bumping into each other.

  Andy stayed where he was for a moment and absorbed what had just happened. A couple of metres away was a bank ATM, he noticed. He was indeed on camera. He looked at his watch, not really seeing the time, then scanned the strip for any of the other officers who might be trying to visit Jimmy. No one familiar. Hands in his pockets, Andy entered a newsagent, bought a newspaper and, a few minutes later, wandered up to Oxford Street and entered a small café with dirty white umbrellas, to find Makedde Vanderwall, under a shaggy brown wig, waiting in the corner with a glass of water in her hand.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly as he sat down.

  She nodded. He didn’t mention the hair. ‘How is it exactly that you know where I am all the time?’

  Mak offered a sly smile from under the long fringe. ‘Is it so awful?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, it’s only —’

  ‘How is he?’ she cut in.

  Andy shook his head again. ‘Not good.’

  Mak took a breath and it caught in her chest. ‘I’m sorry, Andy.’

  He looked at her, looked away, looked back. ‘I’ve been worried about you. I don’t think my mobile phone is secure. I had no way to reach you to tell you. I had to get a new phone, to be safe. The …’ He hesitated, knowing this would be a major blow. ‘The laptop you gave me. The one you said belonged to the man who tried to kill you. It’s been destroyed. I found out yesterday. There was a fire at the Electronic Evidence Branch. It can’t be a coincidence, and I trust the guy I gave it to.’

  Mak was nodding her head as he spoke. She didn’t take her glasses off.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mak. I couldn’t have foreseen this.’

  ‘I posted the Lacie and the footage to Inspector Kelley this morning, just as you suggested,’ she said softly, her gaze averted. ‘Express Post. Should arrive on Monday, I guess.’

  ‘Good.’ That way Andy could maintain a distance and the police still had the evidence. ‘I just don’t know what to say about the laptop going missing, Mak,’ he added and shook his head. ‘I know how much you risked to get it to me. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. You did what you could.’ She seemed calm about it. Strangely calm.

  ‘I’m sure you saw the paper yesterday. What are you going to do?’ Andy asked. ‘Where have you been?’


  She didn’t answer his questions.

  ‘Was that a note you were trying to slip me before?’ he asked.

  ‘Andy, I have something to tell you. It’s not easy,’ she replied and hesitated, looking around the café and at the passersby on the sidewalk.

  He braced himself. ‘I’m not having a great day, to be honest. If it’s bad news, I’m not sure I want to hear it.’

  She sat forwards a touch. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said quietly and took a sip of water.

  The breath went out of him. ‘My God, Mak,’ he said after a moment.

  She crossed her arms over herself and watched him. He felt unable to speak. ‘It’s true,’ she said.

  ‘Are you okay — what can I do — how do you know?’ All these questions poured out in a jumble, without punctuation. He was aware of the public setting, aware that he shouldn’t raise his voice. Why had she chosen to tell him here? Why now? Couldn’t she have waited until they were alone?

  ‘I’m okay, and I’m not asking for anything from you or anyone else. I just needed you to know.’

  His eyes went to her stomach and back to her face. He had a question. The question.

  She followed his gaze and then looked him in the eye. ‘Are you the father? I don’t know, Andy,’ she replied. ‘That’s the truth. I only found out yesterday. I went to see a doctor and she confirmed it. Until I have an ultrasound I can’t be sure how many weeks I am. I can’t be more than three months, I shouldn’t think. Maybe somewhat less.’

  Before he left for Quantico or after? That’s what he wanted to know. ‘So it could be …’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Yours.’ She paused. ‘Or Bogey could be the father.’

  Andy went quiet as his head filled with white noise. He turned away from her as she continued to speak, not hearing. The rage was almost overwhelming. Slowly sound came back, and he heard her words.

  ‘… shortly after I moved out,’ she was telling him in a neutral voice. ‘A few weeks, maybe five or six weeks after I’d seen you last.’

  So, she’d started dating someone else. He’d known that. He’d imagined she screwed him. He’d come to terms with that. She’d had sex with this younger man six weeks after Andy. That’s what she was saying. And now it meant she might be pregnant with that man’s child. A man who, according to Mak, was dead.