‘Why was that?’ Troy said, lifting the backpack onto his shoulder.
‘Didn’t like Margot’s obsession with The Tower. Made him wonder if she was such a good influence on her cousin.’
‘Well, I’m off,’ Troy said, putting out his hand.
Little shook it. ‘I’m sorry about this.’
Chu was upset.
‘Little can tell you all about it,’ Troy said. ‘I’m not in the mood.’
But he didn’t feel as bad as he might have.
He realised this was because of the woman he’d been with last night. It was something no one could take away from him.
Twenty-seven
Troy parked his car at the south end of Coogee Beach, and walked out to the headland. The spray was breaking on Wedding Cake Island. He made his way along the boardwalk, knowing he was on the brink of self-pity and determined to stay away from it, but not sure what to do. Boxing might be good, he’d been thinking about it lately, and maybe it was time to go back; he could help out at one of the police youth clubs, maybe. That was assuming kids still boxed. Even when he’d started, it had been kind of old-fashioned.
His phone rang and he saw that it was Randall. The engineer said he’d talked to Siegert about Stone and the union. The super was going to have a word. Troy listened without interest, and said, ‘I’ve been taken off the investigation.’
Randall exploded with sympathy. He felt Troy’s pain. For five minutes he went on, squeezing the emotional juice from what had happened. This was pleasant, but at last Troy had had enough. He said goodbye, anxious to be on the move, thinking he might drive down to the nearest youth club and see what was going on.
‘No,’ Randall said. ‘We can fix this.’ There was a note of seriousness in his voice, something Troy hadn’t heard before. Still, there was no point in going on about it.
‘I’ll call you in a few days. We should have a drink.’
‘Wait,’ said Randall. ‘Did you do anything about the union complaints about Stone?’
Troy described how this had contributed to his downfall.
Randall said, ‘I haven’t told you everything I know about this.’
‘What?’
‘This is completely off the record. Stone worked undercover for a long time on a construction site in Melbourne.’ He paused and Troy said nothing. ‘You don’t seem too surprised.’
‘I’m thinking about it,’ Troy said.
‘There’s more. Stone is still involved in investigating the union. Up here now.’
Troy, who had been walking while he spoke, stopped and leaned one arm on a wooden railing, looking down at the waves breaking at the foot of the cliff. His heart seemed to be pounding in time with the surf.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said.
Randall explained that the construction industry in New South Wales, riddled with corruption and violence from time immemorial, had wanted a police investigation like the one in Victoria. Something thorough, an undercover job. But the government refused to allow it, claiming the union wasn’t as bad up here. The industry knew the real reason was that the union was a major financial backer of the government. Enter the federal government, keen to see the union exposed because of the damage it was doing the national economy. The result was a lot of tension in federal and state law enforcement circles. When Margot Teresi came off The Tower and McIver was shot, someone had had the idea of bringing Stone up to Sydney and inserting him in the investigation.
‘There’s a federal election next year,’ Troy said when Randall had finished.
‘You’ve got it.’
Troy didn’t want to believe it. Kelly and her superiors had their faults, but the idea they’d use a homicide investigation for political purposes was too much. Apart from the moral angle, they’d be worried about the risk of exposure. He turned around, leaning back into the railing, seeing two women with prams walk past. Ordinary life goes on, and behind it, this craziness. But no, it wasn’t possible.
‘It’s a murder investigation,’ he said. ‘They wouldn’t compromise that. One of the killers shot a cop.’
‘Stop and think,’ Randall said. ‘There are people out there with different agendas to yours.’
I don’t have an agenda, Troy thought. ‘Kelly would not do this,’ he said slowly, but already there was doubt in his mind.
‘It’s a favour for someone important,’ Randall said. ‘I could tell you who that is and just what she hopes to get out of it. I won’t. But I’ve been told.’
No. ‘She wouldn’t compromise a homicide inquiry.’
‘It wasn’t meant to do that. It was supposed to be a little side deal. The idea was that Stone would have access to the whole site in his role as a murder investigator, go anywhere, talk to anyone. It was a very specific industrial issue they were interested in, involving one incident, one industrial officer they were out to get. It was only supposed to take him a day or two.’
Troy said, his voice almost breaking, ‘But how could he possibly run a murder investigation too?’
Randall sounded impatient. ‘He wasn’t supposed to do it for more than a few days. He actually got what he wanted on the first day, that should have been the end of it. But then he told his bosses he was on the trail of something bigger, he just needed another day or two. Like idiots they said yes, and then he just went feral. There’s something wrong with the guy, the way I hear it, and Kelly and the feds are very anxious about him. Imagine what will happen—’
‘You knew, didn’t you?’
‘It was a good idea. It just got stuffed up in the execution.’
‘You bastard,’ Troy said, his voice low. ‘You knew.’
‘Labour problems here are a nightmare,’ Randall said quickly. ‘The cost of a tall building is eight per cent more than it should be. The state government doesn’t want to know about it because the industry is one of its biggest—’
Troy turned off his phone. For a moment he considered hurling it into the sea far below, but instead he stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket. One of the reasons for being the sort of person he was, dedicated to his work but not particularly ambitious, was that you didn’t have to be part of this sort of obscenity. But it found you in the end.
He began to walk back to his car, wondering what to do. Who to tell. McIver was out of his life now. Danny Chu was no good, not confrontational enough. It would take him a few days to become impatient with Stone, and even then he wouldn’t make waves. Essentially this was about Kelly, and she was a powerful woman. He didn’t know what he could do about her.
He stopped on a patch of rock overlooking the sea and breathed in the ocean air. The problem, the one he found he did still care about, was that the investigation had hit two dead ends as far as finding out the identity of the shooter. Assuming Sidorov stayed quiet and Conti couldn’t break anyone at the council, they wouldn’t find Margot’s killer, not if Stone remained in charge. He would insist Chu stayed in the office, and Chu would do as he was told. The investigation would continue to limp on as it had, but they had no new lines of investigation. Unless they had a break, in a few weeks there would be a meeting at which Kelly, under pressure from the commanders who had lent detectives to Tailwind, would review the lack of progress and decide to reduce the number of staff. Troy knew from experience that this would be the beginning of the end. And it was not acceptable, it was not how the death of Margot Teresi should finish up, as an unsolved murder. One that had led to two other deaths. A homicide investigation deserved integrity and determination. The living owed a debt to the dead.
As he began to walk again, he sought relief in thoughts about the previous night. The woman had had smooth black hair and skin the colour of weak coffee, and when she’d removed her dress there’d been a certain playful knowingness in her expression that had come as a pleasant surprise. As if it was more than a commercial transaction. This had been a lie, of course, but she’d lied well. From then on his memory was hazy, almost erased by the physical intensity of the experience.
Bits of it came back now. There’d been a large mirror on one of the doors of the built-in wardrobe opposite the bed. She’d used it skilfully, allowing him glimpses of what they were doing. After a while he hadn’t looked.
‘Contemplating your fate?’
Troy turned around. He’d reached the park and McIver was standing just a few metres away, his hair tousled by the wind that had sprung up.
‘How’d you find me?’
There were other things he wanted to say to McIver, but for the moment he couldn’t remember what they were. There was so much to be angry about.
‘I called Anna. She hadn’t heard you’d been taken off the investigation, so I told her. She said you sometimes come here when you want to think.’
Troy was irritated. ‘She doesn’t know that.’
McIver came and stood next to him on the grass, awkwardly zipping up his leather jacket, with the left arm in its sling inside. He was swaying slightly and Troy didn’t think it was the wind.
‘You spoke to Kelly,’ he said.
‘I did.’
McIver was closer now, and Troy could smell the alcohol mixed with other smells, such as aftershave. He wondered if his father had had a distinctive smell, if he did himself. It needed a child’s nose to really tell. When Matt was older he’d have to ask him.
‘She’s taken me off the investigation.’
‘She told me.’
‘This is bad.’
‘I agree.’
He looked at McIver. ‘I thought we had some sort of friendship.’
‘You should listen to your feelings.’
‘I won’t forget this.’
McIver stuck his hands in his pockets and turned his back to the wind. ‘I’m picking up a vibe here. You think I did this, don’t you?’
‘You told me you’d make me pay. Outside your house this morning.’
‘Like this?’
‘Kelly knew I’d seen you. A few hours later, I was taken off the investigation.’
McIver shook his head sorrowfully. ‘You should know I wouldn’t do this.’
Troy’s chest seemed to expand. ‘No?’
‘No.’
Troy believed McIver, and it felt as though something had been set free. The anger seemed to flow out of him, into the ground. For a moment he said nothing. Then: ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re getting paranoid,’ McIver said, smiling. ‘Still, a man with all your enemies, it’s understandable.’
‘Kelly told you about Stone and me?’
‘Doesn’t make much sense, removing you.’
‘Do you know what’s going on?’
‘Haven’t a clue,’ McIver said. ‘I’ve got my own problems. When I got home I found I’d been burgled. The pricks took my Les Paul acoustic, most of my DVDs too.’ Troy knew his movie collection had been large and much-loved. ‘The strange thing is, they left all the Clint Eastwood ones. Why do you think they did that?’ Troy took a deep breath and McIver added, ‘There’s no need to answer.’ He cleared his throat. ‘After the locals had been, I called Kelly to tell her I was ready to come back to work.’
‘She let you?’
‘She’s desperate. Blayney is still screwing her on staffing, with Rogers’ support. It’s almost like they want her to fail. She told me the news about you, so here I am. But I know nothing.’
Troy was momentarily disappointed. McIver had always known something, always had a clue. But now he was the one with the clue. Randall had given it to him only half an hour ago.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
The walk didn’t last long. Troy explained what Randall had told him, and the news seemed to depress McIver. When they reached the Palace Hotel at the other end of the beach, he said he was tired and needed something to eat. They went inside and ordered some lunch. A song was playing loudly through speakers behind the bar. It was rougher than Troy usually liked, but catchy. He’d heard it before and tapped his fingers on the bar.
‘ “Water and Wine” by the Saints,’ said McIver. ‘A top ten hit.’
‘You follow the top ten?’
‘Not usually. But a Saints’ song is different.’
Troy had vaguely heard of the band. ‘It’s been a while,’ he said.
The lyrics were difficult to hear, but he’d made out the word ‘crime’ twice.
McIver said, ‘With those drive-bys down south last month, it seems to have caught the public mood.’
The sergeant was looking pale. Troy told him he should go home.
‘Soon,’ McIver said. ‘But tomorrow I come back to work. I’ll make some calls tonight, see what’s going on. Basically, Kelly’s a dangerous woman because she’s fighting for her own survival.’
Troy turned on his phone and checked for messages. He’d had it switched off since he’d left the station. Sacha Powell had called from the Herald. Wondering what she wanted, he told McIver.
‘That’s quick,’ the sergeant said. ‘Nice bit of work with the press on Sunday night, by the way. But I wouldn’t make a habit of it.’
‘You think I told her I’m off the investigation?’
‘I’m just saying—’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Well, someone must have.’ McIver smiled. ‘It wasn’t me.’
Troy deleted the message. There were a few others but none were important. Kelly had not called to say she’d changed her mind.
‘The media on this is driving them half-crazy,’ McIver said. ‘With The Tower on the front page almost every day, this documentary coming up, the government’s going insane. They want results, closure. All we’ve given them is more bodies. Another drink?’
They had another. McIver was emotional, and got into an argument with two English backpackers, who made a loud remark about convicts. He stood up, swaying, and the English backed off.
‘They’re right, though,’ he said when he’d sat down again. ‘This is a convict city.’
He seemed invigorated by the exchange.
‘That was a long time ago.’
McIver snorted. ‘We’re an army of occupation. Never be anything more.’
‘Come on—’
‘S’why we have to stick together.’
‘Cops?’
‘Cops who’ve been through stuff like us. Up there last Sunday night.’ He looked at Troy almost pleadingly, with eyes that were moist. There was a tipping point in his emotions when he was drinking, but they’d reached it much earlier than usual. ‘Mate,’ he said, ‘ask me anything you want. You and me. Anything.’
Here we go, thought Troy, wondering if Mac was on painkillers.
‘You must wonder, I see you looking at me sometimes, wondering.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
McIver waved a hand dismissively, almost knocking over his glass. ‘A good detective like yourself. A good man.’ Again he waved his hand. ‘So ask anything you like about me.’
It was a sincere request, Troy could see. He had no idea what had prompted it, but he knew McIver was serious. The sergeant was pissed, sweating and tired. But something was on offer here, and couldn’t be refused.
‘The Perry case,’ he said.
‘Good pick.’ McIver paused and thought about it. ‘So you’ve heard about that?’
‘It’s part of the mythology.’
‘I see. And you want to hear the details?’
‘As you’re offering.’
McIver nodded: a deal was a deal. ‘There was a chapter of the Wolves at Guildford, same as your mate Asaad, when I was on general duties at Parramatta, long time ago. This biker called Perry was selling drugs to single mums and forcing them on the game when they couldn’t pay. He liked the single mums.’ As he spoke, McIver seemed to come more alive; the memories were feeding him. ‘This fucked up their lives and one killed herself and her kids and I got—I got . . . Want another beer?’
Troy shook his head and McIver gestured to the barman, who looked
dubiously at Troy but started to fill a glass.
‘Louise Daly her name was. You remember some and not others.’
McIver stopped talking and frowned at a backpacker who’d been trying to listen in. The man moved away. ‘So my sergeant and me, we fitted the prick up with a serious drugs charge. This girl called Jasmine, she came to us for help, showed us what Perry’d done to her. Man was a complete animal, said she’d testify, support our story. So we thought we were very clever. It went to court and then Jasmine turned on us. Some of the Wolves had paid her a visit.’
‘Didn’t you have her in witness protection?’
‘Of course. She got bored, got out the back one night and left her baby with the bored officer who was supposed to be guarding her. Called a friend and they met at a pub. She came back to the house later, said she was sorry. We only found out down the line some of the Wolves had turned up at the pub with the friend.’ McIver looked pained by the recollection.
Troy said, ‘Her change of heart only became clear in court?’
Mac nodded. ‘There she was in the box, fitting us up, saying she’d seen me plant the gear.’
‘The jury wouldn’t believe it, surely?’
McIver looked closely at Troy, who smiled. Reassured, he said, ‘Created doubt, that’s all it takes. But then Perry disappeared, and that was the end of that.’
‘Disappeared?’
McIver waved a hand airily. ‘He moved to New Zealand.’
‘Who scared him off?’
‘Mates in the Armed Holdup Squad.’ He finished the beer and rubbed his face. ‘They had a word.’
It must have been quite a word, Troy thought. He felt like another beer, but he had to drive. McIver was slipping off his stool. Troy took his good arm, and slowly the two of them walked out of the bar. On the footpath outside, McIver stopped and looked at Troy. ‘Would you have done it?’
‘Different times.’
‘What if it happened now? Your choice, to do or not.’
‘No other options?’ Troy said, looking out towards the sea, not wanting to have this conversation. The old Armed Holdup Squad had been notorious for the corruption of some of its members.
‘No other options,’ McIver said.
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