‘Get onto Little,’ said Stone. ‘Check the bedding, see how many toothbrushes we got.’
‘Okay.’
‘And another thing. I’ve had some trouble getting around the site. Go and see that bloke Randall, will you? Tell him what we’re doing. We need him on side.’
‘I thought you were doing that sort of thing.’
‘Just fucking do it, will you? Why does everything with you have to be so hard?’
He disconnected and Troy pulled out a piece of gum, slowly put it in his mouth.
McIver said, ‘Haven’t got much to go on, have you? No victim ID, no suspect, almost no physical evidence. I hope this Sergeant Brad Stone is good.’
‘I hope so too.’
‘Is he good?’
Troy gave this question the attention it deserved. Then he sat down and described Sergeant Brad Stone.
When he’d finished, McIver shook his head.
‘For her to compromise a murder investigation like this—’ Troy began, but McIver interrupted.
‘She’ll be doing someone a favour. The situation she’s in, she might not have any alternative.’
Troy didn’t care about the politics. ‘You once said Kelly doesn’t have an appreciation of homicide.’
McIver stared at him, but Troy could see he was thinking of something else entirely.
The sergeant said, ‘You’ve got to give Stone some leeway. Maybe he is acting strangely, but who knows what he’s been through? It must be like coming back from a war.’
Troy said, ‘He has my complete sympathy. But if he’s so fragile, why’s he running a homicide investigation? Kelly’s not stupid.’
‘You’re going round in circles,’ McIver said impatiently. ‘Our lot are probably doing a favour for the feds or the Victorians. Kelly says she’ll play her part, she gets locked in, and then this investigation comes out of nowhere, she hasn’t got enough staff to give her the options she’d like. It’s bullshit but it happens.’
Troy realised Kelly must have told McIver much of this when she saw him earlier. Got him on side.
‘This is speculation on your part?’ he said.
‘The reason hierarchies were invented was because one person can’t know everything,’ McIver said. ‘There’s just too much to know. We specialise in murder, Kelly specialises in politics. She’s done okay by us these last few days.’
Troy said, ‘She was prepared to cut you loose if it came to it.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I do.’
McIver stared at him intently, as though listening to his own heartbeat. For a while, nothing was said. ‘Well, well,’ he murmured at last. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘I told you it was dangerous to go into hospital.’ With a shrug he took a few magazines from the top of the dresser next to the bed and began flicking through them one by one.
Troy thought about Kelly and Stone. He didn’t want to believe what McIver was saying, but perhaps that was only because of the limits of his own experience.
McIver said. ‘Pass me that Dolly, will you?’
Troy saw that when he’d cleared the chair he’d dropped one of the magazines on the floor. He bent down and retrieved it. McIver snatched the magazine and began to go through it, stopping about halfway. He opened the manila folder on the bed and peered at one of the photos inside, then smiled widely and held up the magazine.
‘ “Tattoos of the rich and famous”,’ he said, reading a headline. He held up the magazine. ‘Recognise anything?’
There was a double-page spread of photos of tattoos on celebrities’ bodies. One was of a young woman, taken from behind. She was wearing low-cut jeans and appeared to be pulling on a shirt at the beach. The tattoo just above the jeans was clearly visible: a dolphin, jumping out of the water.
‘ “Margot Teresi”,’ McIver read out loud, ‘ “Australia’s fifth-richest woman. Seen displaying her dolphin at Tamarama Beach.” ’
Troy grabbed the magazine and read the words for himself.
‘Margot Teresi,’ he said slowly, savouring the name.
‘Do you think she was any relation to Tony Teresi?’
It was a game McIver liked to play.
‘The bloke who started The Tower?’ said Troy.
‘Yeah.’
‘Probably not.’
McIver lay back, his good arm behind his head.
‘Kelly wants me to take a few weeks to recuperate,’ he said. ‘But I figure on being back soon.’ His face brightened and he smiled broadly. ‘Let’s face it, without me, you’re all helpless.’
Sixteen
The project office of Warton Constructions was on Norfolk Street, above a branch of Westpac Bank. Troy had come to see what more Sean Randall could tell them about The Tower’s security arrangements. Randall greeted Troy in the lobby on the second floor, where two men in bright green polo shirts were waiting in plastic chairs. There was no bandage around Randall’s head today, and his wound appeared much less serious than it had the other night. He took Troy through to his office and led him over to a large window with a view of one of the lowest floors of The Tower. In the street below Troy could see two television crews, filming the entrance to the building site. He looked up, taking in the decorative stonework and the tinted glass.
‘Inspiring view,’ he said, as Randall showed him to some easy chairs and a secretary took his order for coffee. He wasn’t just being polite.
‘I try not to look at it too much,’ Randall said. He had a leg over the side of the chair and looked comfortable and competent. Different from the other night. ‘It’s kind of frustrating. I’m an engineer, I like building things. But if you want to become a senior project manager with Warton, you have to do a few years at everything. Like security.’
He scratched the little beard beneath his lower lip. ‘At the moment, I can’t say I’m enjoying it.’
He smiled and Troy liked his honesty. Despite the sentiment Randall had just expressed, there was still a certain sense of ease about him. Troy had noticed this before in people whose careers brought them into contact with inanimate objects a lot.
‘The job was going okay until now?’
Randall nodded. ‘The most exciting event I’ve had was the base jumpers. I thought I might get the sack then, but it worked out all right.’ He studied Troy for a moment, as though wondering whether to be frank, and then plunged in. ‘We were actually pretty unhappy with the security company we had at the time. It belonged to Tony Teresi, the first owner of the project.’
Troy took care not to react at the mention of the name. He’d told Stone about McIver’s possible identification of the victim, and they’d decided to keep the information to themselves for the moment. ‘Couldn’t you sack them after Teresi sold the project?’ he said.
‘We were locked into a contract. The base-jumping incident breached their performance agreement and gave us cause to terminate, which was good. Fortunately for me, I was the one who spotted that.’
He smiled, as though the memory was still a happy one.
‘So then you hired the new company?’
‘Tryon Security. They’ve been fine. Until now.’ Randall shook his head. ‘I actually got Bazzi the job with them—he’d been with the old lot and he was the only manager there who saw what was going on. It’s weird to think he’s betrayed me like this. You got any word on him?’
‘He’s disappeared. Asaad too.’
‘You think they’ve left the country?’
‘It’s possible. Tryon would have done background checks before they took them on?’
Randall nodded and sighed. ‘That guy in the Herald this morning, saying how could we have had twenty people living in the building without knowing about it. They’ve got no idea of the scale of this place.’ Troy nodded. ‘Bazzi was given a promotion when he first came on board at Tryon, but they dropped him back after a few months. He came to see me about it, said there was no reason. Maybe he got upset and we
nt on the take.’
Troy had his notebook out. ‘Did they ever check the floors down below? The empty ones?’
‘Once a month. We’re not stupid, but you have to rely on your own people. This thing with Bazzi, it’s—it’s like one of those moles in the secret service, isn’t it? Very hard to spot unless you’re looking.’
Troy saw where this was going. ‘Don’t tell me—’
‘Bazzi did the lower car park checks the last two months.’
‘Alone?’
‘With Asaad.’
There was a knock on the door and the secretary reappeared with a tray. She put cups of coffee on the low table between the two men. Troy couldn’t help looking at her as she bent over, her red skirt tightening.
After she’d left the room Randall laughed. ‘Like what you see?’
‘She’s all yours?’
‘We had a thing. But there’s too many beautiful women in this city to stop at one.’
‘I’m married,’ Troy said. His voice sounded a little strained even to his own ears.
‘I was married too. Everyone should do it once.’ Randall laughed. ‘If I’d been prepared to be unfaithful, I might still be married.’
‘You reckon?’
‘Maybe. Funny how things turn out.’ He’d put both his feet on the floor and was leaning forward.
Troy said, ‘Tell me about Teresi’s security company.’
‘His daughter ran it, actually.’
Troy concentrated on his coffee. ‘His daughter?’ he said.
‘Margot. Attractive brunette, mid-twenties. I had some meetings with her when we were trying to change the contract. She wanted more money. I said it’s not about money—we’re paying you plenty—it’s about performance.’
‘What was she like to deal with?’ Troy said, trying to keep the interest out of his voice.
‘Tough, but not really effective. She had all her old man’s aggro, but the shrewdness wasn’t there. I heard she wasn’t all that interested in the family business, but Tony insisted. I got the impression she just came into work a few hours a day and yelled at people.’
Troy didn’t want to linger on Margot Teresi in case Randall noticed his curiosity, but he must have stayed with it a second too long, for just as he was about to change the subject, Randall straightened up. His eyes lit up and Troy saw he’d got it.
‘My God,’ said the engineer. ‘It’s her, isn’t it?’
Troy’s heart sunk. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Did you see the body last night?’
Randall shook his head. Inwardly cursing himself, Troy said it might be Margot Teresi, it was one of the possibilities they were looking into. ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he said. ‘We haven’t confirmed it. Haven’t done the death message yet.’
‘The what?’
‘We haven’t talked to her family.’
Randall nodded, looking at Troy with keen eyes. ‘Hell of a job you’ve got, isn’t it?’
Before Troy could answer, Randall’s gaze slid off to the wall and the energy suddenly left him. It was as though some transforming revelation had struck him. Sinking into his chair again, he whispered, ‘I’ve had it.’
‘What?’
‘Margot Teresi. I mean, the poor woman—but Jesus, the publicity’s going to be huge. Morning Star will need to show they’re responding. Sacking me will be part of that. It’s the way it goes.’
Troy felt a twinge of pity. ‘Won’t Warton just move you to another job?’
‘Morning Star are their biggest client, and they’re hard bastards. I’m out.’ Randall was running a hand slowly over his shaved head. His face had gone red, but was now returning to its normal colour. He shrugged. ‘I always wanted to see more of the world,’ he said in a voice suddenly hoarse with self-pity. ‘This could be my opportunity.’
Troy laughed. ‘Tell me about Tony Teresi.’
In a moment Randall was alert again. ‘A very interesting bloke, like one of those big entrepreneurs of the eighties, but with a difference. He wasn’t just a money juggler, he wanted to build productive businesses. Pretty good at it, too.’
‘He worked in America, didn’t he?’
‘Spent a decade or two in the gaming industry; must have done well because when he came back here in the nineties he owned two casinos, in Las Vegas and Macau. Came back because his wife was dying of cancer. She wasn’t that old, wanted to be near her parents. So, the casinos are still churning out cash but he can’t break into that industry here, it’s too tight. Tony looks around, buys some coalmines up and down the east coast, bit like a hobby, and then becomes interested in how the coal gets to the ports. Before long he’s out of coal and big in the railway business. Very big.’
‘I thought the railways are owned by government.’
‘Government owns the tracks but they sold off the freight services that run on them. A lot of the buyers lost their shirts in the confusion that followed, paid too much, the winner’s curse. Tony comes in as a second-generation player and cleans up. The commodity boom gets bigger and he keeps making money. He did other stuff too, but basically it was coal and casinos.’ He paused.
‘So what happened?’
‘Tony’s wife dies and he takes it bad, really bad. Starts thinking about mortality, leaving some monument. I only know what I read, I never met the bloke, but that’s when he started work on his idea for the tallest building in the world, here in Sydney. The Olympics were coming up and there was a feeling this city could do anything. It was going to be called Elena Tower—that was the name of his wife.’
Troy nodded, remembering more of the story himself now. The new owners had changed the name to Morning Star Tower, but it hadn’t caught on.
Randall went on, ‘It takes him five or six years to buy an entire block, fifteen separate properties. It’s on the fringe of the CBD but, even so, incredibly difficult. No one thought you could own a whole block in this city anymore. A massive achievement.’
‘He paid too much though, didn’t he?’
Randall explained how The Tower had become an obsession. Teresi became impatient and started paying up to fifty per cent more than he should have. The finances became precarious. The Empire State Building design was picked because it had been his wife’s favourite building, but it created all sorts of problems for a building of this size.
‘But couldn’t he afford his folly?’ said Troy.
‘He just kept paying too much for everything. He wanted the greatest new building in the world—a monument to Elena, like a modern Taj Mahal.’
Randall stood up, walked over to the window and, craning his neck, looked upwards. ‘For me he was a hero. When I was at university, people used to look down on engineers—the arts crowd said we had no imagination. But you need imagination to create something like this out of nothing.’ He waved a hand and turned back. ‘What have they got to put up against this? There’s no Picasso anymore, no James Joyce. But we can build things like The Tower that we’ve never built before.’ He sat down and Troy wondered what this was all about. ‘Anyway, Tony had been spending all the profits from his other businesses on The Tower. Then the coal boom dipped and there was a problem with the casino in Macau. Suddenly Tony was going backwards. Morning Star had been a twenty-five per cent owner from the start, and had an option clause in the contract, so they got the rest cheap. People say Tony lost several hundred million by the time he got out. But even so,’ Randall pointed out the window, ‘there it stands.’
‘What happened to Tony?’
‘Basically, he lost the lot. The shareholders sacked him at the AGM two years ago, and a week later he died of a heart attack.’
‘How many children?’
‘Just one. She got some bits and pieces. Not all that much, but I doubt she struggled.’ He shook his head. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘poor Margot.’
Troy was anxious to be off to visit Margot Teresi’s place, wherever it might be—Ruth was getting the deta
ils—but he wanted to learn as much as he could from Randall first.
‘Are Morning Star good to work for?’
‘Their local manager is Henry Wu. Born in China but got out to Hong Kong years ago. They’re tough people but they’re spending big.’
He swivelled in his chair and pointed again at the facade of The Tower.
‘The pattern work on those granite slabs goes up for the first forty storeys. I mean, who’s going to see it? But for them it’s important to be able to say it’s there. Have you been to Asia?’
‘Once.’ He had been to India on his honeymoon.
‘Different ways of thinking. Morning Star are looking to dominate the insurance industry in the Asia-Pacific region within ten years, so there’s a lot of symbolism here. They’ve added about fifty million dollars to the detail and upgraded materials—you should see some of the stuff they’re bringing in.’ He explained how normally with a new office building, the tenants would be expected to do the fit-out of the entire floor. But Morning Star were doing the area around the lifts on each floor themselves, with particularly fine timber work. ‘We’re using beautiful tropical timber. They get the marquetry done in China and fly it down in sections. Huge quantities of some of the best stuff available anywhere in the world.’
‘They must have a lot of money to spare.’
Randall shrugged. ‘They’re the modern equivalents of the companies that built the big New York skyscrapers in the twenties and thirties. And they know it. Symbolism matters to them. They like the way The Tower’s the same as the Empire State Building—but bigger.’
Troy said, ‘Any thoughts on why Margot would have been there on Sunday?’
‘None.’
‘How easy would it have been for her to get in?’
‘Once you assume Bazzi’s involvement, it becomes pretty straightforward, with Asaad involved too. She might have known Bazzi from the old company. He could have arranged the shift so there were no other guards near the front entrance at a certain time. She walks in. Asaad’s on the gate, he doesn’t note her on the list.’
‘Sergeant Little tells me your CCTV camera at the pedestrian entrance was disabled for the period we’re interested in?’
The Tower Page 15