The Tower

by Michael Duffy

  He wondered how he could change the subject from sex, and said, ‘I wanted to ask you about a situation involving a friend of mine.’

  ‘Another cop?’

  Troy nodded. He told Luke about the Perry case, leaving McIver’s name out of it, explaining how a biker had been set up to be sent to jail. He kept it simple; Luke’s eyelids were growing heavy, although he was obviously interested in the story.

  When it was finished, the priest said, ‘It was a sin. But a sin committed for a reason like that, I would say there were extenuating circumstances. I don’t know what the law would say, but that’s what I would say, if I was hearing the man’s confession. It was you, was it?’

  ‘No. It wasn’t me.’

  Not long ago, he would have said with certainty he could never do a thing like that. But not anymore.

  The priest had stopped talking and was just sitting there, his eyes still closed, very still. Troy waited patiently. After a while he looked at Luke more closely. He couldn’t be dead, not just like that. Anxiously he stood up and took a step towards him. Then the old man’s head tilted back and his mouth dropped half-open. Softly, he began to snore.

  Back at City Central, he logged on and went straight to his email, hoping Ferguson’s scanned statement would have come through from Chicago. There was nothing there, and he leaned back in his chair, looking around the busy room for McIver. He was in his office, talking to several detectives. They were taking notes.

  A few people came up to Troy and told him they were sorry he was going. He could see they were confused that he was leaving, after such a week of triumph, but they seemed to accept the story about stress leave. Perhaps he should go with it too, see how he handled two weeks’ compulsory holiday. Find out what else he had in his life. There was the new room on the back Anna had wanted for a long time, maybe he would look into what was required to become an owner-builder. Buy himself a good hammer.

  Little came up and said a few words. He seemed to have some idea that things were not as they seemed, but Troy brushed aside his questions.

  ‘You’ll come out tonight?’ Little said. ‘We’ll give you a send-off.’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  Tonight he had to be with Anna. The way she’d been behaving lately, he knew he had to look after her.

  His mobile rang. It was Sergeant Sally Offner, AFP Washington, calling from the Chicago Omni. Her portable scanner had broken and she was about to go to the hotel’s business centre to send Ferguson’s signed statement. ‘There’s something I thought you’d want to know as soon as.’

  ‘Yes?’ He should hand the call over to someone else, but he wanted to hear what she had to tell.

  ‘We heard about the death of Henry Wu, so I told Ferguson. He hadn’t heard. I thought it might help him open up, given he’d been so scared . . .’

  ‘Did it?’

  Offner paused. Then: ‘He saw Wu at The Tower. That night.’

  Troy sat up straight. ‘Go on.’

  ‘There were two other men there, as Ferguson told you. But Wu was with them. Margot Teresi had never been able to get to see him before, and she started to swear and told Ferguson to leave, she was going to grab the chance to talk to the man who’d destroyed her father.’

  Troy stood up. He turned around and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the need to move. ‘He’s sure it was Wu?’

  ‘They both recognised him, from photos. Margot said words to the effect, “That bastard, I’m going to have it out with him.” ’

  ‘And then Ferguson left?’

  ‘Gone before Margot reached the three men. He didn’t think there was any chance of danger. Not with a man like that, a big executive. He just didn’t want any part of it himself.’

  Troy said nothing.

  After half a minute, Offner said, ‘You still there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But when Margot died, he knew Wu was involved and might come after him too, because he was there. From what he knew about the man, he didn’t think the police could protect him. Seems a nervous type of bloke, said to say sorry.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘For not telling you. But now that Wu’s dead, everything’s changed.’

  Troy thanked her and put down the phone. Feeling like he was sleepwalking, he stood up and went across the big room, bumping his leg against a desk as he went. The pain cleared his head, a little.

  He leaned against the doorframe of McIver’s office and said to the detectives inside, ‘Give us a few minutes.’

  McIver said, ‘We’re almost finished.’

  ‘Whatever you’re doing,’ Troy said, ‘this is more important.’

  The detectives filed out and Troy closed the door after them. The room was stuffy. He told McIver what he’d just learned from Offner. When he finished, McIver let out a yell of joy. Everyone outside was looking at them, Troy could see them through the glass. He smiled, wishing he could share the full extent of McIver’s emotion. But he did feel some happiness; after this news, Wu’s death was even less difficult to regret.

  ‘There you go,’ McIver said. ‘Explains why Ferguson left Margot with a couple of dodgy strangers.’

  ‘That’s been worrying you?’

  ‘Gent of the old school, abandoning a young lass not much older than his daughter? You bet.’

  Troy knew what he meant. ‘I can’t believe Wu would kill her. On the site.’

  McIver looked around his desk, which was covered in papers and files. He gave up the search and waved a hand over the pile. ‘I’ve just got some stuff from our embassy in Beijing. Henry Wu was seriously cracked. Saw his father beaten to death by a mob during the Cultural Revolution. When he swam across to Hong Kong, two of his group didn’t make it. Sharks. Then there was what he had to do to succeed over there. He was involved with some very dodgy characters, still is. The bloke’s lived more lives than most of us, and they’ve all been bad.’

  Troy thought about it, how his life had crossed that of a man like Wu, who’d escaped the sharks and become one himself.

  McIver said, ‘Lots of business execs are violent men, it’s why they’re good at it. But they keep it under control. Wu’s used to getting away with things, and that’s not good for the soul.’

  ‘And then he came here.’

  To this city.

  ‘Easy pickings.’

  ‘It helps explain why he didn’t want us talking to Ferguson,’ Troy said. He shook his head, still taking it in. ‘He knew he’d been seen there.

  He knew but still went ahead and had Margot killed. Imagine a man in his position, taking such a risk.’

  ‘The risk was the whole point. The bloke was a nutter and a serious gambler.’

  And now it’s over, Troy told himself. He didn’t say this to McIver, because he didn’t feel like he deserved to be off the hook. But he was. You couldn’t help being happy.

  McIver was staring at the wall. Someone knocked at the door, looked through the glass panel next to it, and the sergeant shook his head at them, almost angrily. One of the things about being a cop was you found out things before others did. McIver wanted to relish their new knowledge a little longer.

  But as well as the pleasure of secrecy, there’s the pleasure of disclosure. After a minute’s silence, he sighed and smiled at Troy. ‘Let’s go tell the troops. It’s going to be another big night.’

  That night, Anna came to him. When he arrived home and gave her the news about leaving the squad, she was delighted. Of course he couldn’t tell her the real reason for what had happened, so he told her it was time for a change. She came over and kissed him, told him anyone who’d been through what he had deserved a break. He saw how other people would automatically see it this way too. It fitted in with the times, a familiar response to trouble. Fall to pieces. Walk away.

  Maybe he had fallen to pieces. Maybe he should have walked away.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, stroking her hair, ‘that’s the official version but it’s not the real one. I made a mistak
e. I did something to try to put pressure on a witness, and a man we’re investigating found out and used it against me. Helen Kelly told me I had to go.’

  She wasn’t interested, put a hand on his cheek and told him he was a good man and she was sure he’d done the right thing. She said she was sorry he had to leave the squad, but he knew she wasn’t.

  Mary and Charles were arriving the next morning, and Anna was busy preparing an elaborate range of food. He looked after Matt for the next few hours, giving him a bath and feeding him amid the smells of curry and other spices. As he played with Matt he wondered if he could bear being another sort of cop now, or if it might be better to leave the job completely. Follow Ralph Dutton into the private sector. But of course he wouldn’t.

  Once Matt was in bed and they’d eaten, Anna kept working in the kitchen. Troy watched television for a while, not taking it in, and eventually turned the thing off. He went into the kitchen where Anna was washing up, put his hands on her shoulder and kissed her neck to say goodnight.

  There was no acknowledgement of his presence; her arms were still working away on the pots in the water.

  ‘Good night,’ she said without turning.

  He was almost asleep when she came into the room and slipped into the bed and cuddled up next to him. He put out a hand and realised with surprise she was naked, and then she pulled him to her and they began kissing. It was difficult at first, even after he realised this was going to be different from the other night, that this time she was not going to leave him. It was like making love to a stranger, but gradually he began to recognise the curves of her body, the once-familiar mounds and hollows. They made love and it went on and on. For a long time he forgot about everything that had happened.

  It came to him as he lay next to her when it was finally over, holding her tightly: he had had to lose one part of himself in order to regain another. His job for his wife. The trade-off was cruel, he thought, running a finger down her back so that she giggled. You had to wonder if other people’s lives were this complicated. But he had his family back, and the threat was gone. It was a good deal.

  FRIDAY

  Forty-eight

  Troy bought a copy of the Herald and read it as he walked home from his run. The story about Henry Wu’s boat was on page three today. There was a photo of Kelly and two homicide detectives at the Water Police premises, inspecting the hull. The paper said it now looked like the explosion had been deliberate. There were no suspects, and Wu’s body had not yet been found. The journalist repeated the information about strong harbour tides. Adjacent to the main story was a box headlined TOWER OF DEATH, with some photos and descriptions: Margot Teresi, whose funeral was to be held today; the two men from level thirty-one; Andrew Asaad; Sean Randall; and Henry Wu. At least they hadn’t found out about Jenny Finch.

  Troy thought about Randall as he walked. Although he dealt in death every day, it was a long time since anyone he knew had died. It was absurd, but he felt a tiny sense of gratitude to Randall, despite all that had happened. Having sex with the prostitute had been a terrible mistake, but it had shaken things loose and this did not feel completely wrong.

  His phone rang. It was Susan Conti, now back at Kings Cross station, saying she’d just had a call from Kristin Otto. Turned out the United Nations woman had had a fling with Randall.

  ‘That’s a coincidence.’

  ‘Not really. He learned about the brothel where one of our illegals went that night and told her, so she muscled in on the Immigration investigation.’

  ‘Making work for herself.’

  ‘Probably. Anyway, Randall rang her the morning he died. Called her at home and left a message. She thinks he called her mobile but it was off, so he called her place and left a message there.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Cryptic. If anything happens to me, to tell you a name: the Ocean Pearl.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘ “Detective Troy, The Tower fellow”, is what he said. It’s a freight ship—I checked.’

  ‘That all?’

  ‘Yes. She’s been away, got back this morning and found the message. Called me because she had my number.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. He should tell her to call McIver, but that would mean explaining he was off the investigation. She mustn’t have heard. ‘I’ll pass it on,’ he said, and realised it was a poor choice of words.

  She sounded a little puzzled as she said goodbye but he didn’t care. He was thinking about last night, and Anna. It was what he had to do now, focus on the things that mattered, rebuild his life. He called McIver to give him Conti’s piece of information, and got the voicemail. He asked Mac to call back.

  When he got home, Anna was up and dressed, and kissed him on the mouth as he sat down for breakfast. He held her hand for a moment, but sensed her impatience to get away and continue with the preparations. Her parents’ plane was landing in just over an hour.

  ‘I thought we could take both cars to the airport,’ he said as he ate. ‘Then I can go to the building centre.’

  When Anna met up with her parents, they always had a lot of family stuff to discuss. He’d found it was easier if he gave them some time. It would be a good chance to ask an expert about the extension project for the house.

  They drove to the airport and met Charles and Mary at the Jetstar terminal. Charles was above average height, thin, balding and wore glasses. A retired accountant, he was a quick and eager man who’d always seemed to disapprove of Troy’s choice of profession. Troy thought it must be something to do with the police Charles had known back in India, but he’d never been able to discuss it with him. The man was so polite it was difficult to tell what he really thought a lot of the time. Still, the two of them had come to enjoy each other’s company. They spent a lot of their time together talking about cricket.

  Mary was like Anna, a cheerful woman devoted to her three children. The others still lived in Brisbane, and it was her aim in life to get Anna to return. She and Troy usually argued about this once a day when they were together, but even so he got on with her well enough.

  Troy walked slowly along the broad corridor at the terminal, carrying Matt and listening to the others chatting about Anna’s brothers and their families. He rubbed noses with his boy, admiring his light brown skin. In this country, with all the sun, it was good skin to have. He told himself that despite the problems at work he had turned his life into something good. After all the bad times of his youth, it was something to be thankful for. You needed to remind yourself of these things. He remembered the feeling of Anna’s body against his last night, and wondered if she would move back into their bed now. Of course she would. She’d have to, while her parents were staying. Maybe they’d make love again tonight.

  He handed Matt over to Anna, and he and Charles recovered the bags and made their way to the cars, where Troy loaded the luggage into the back of Anna’s station wagon. When they said goodbye she kissed him. It was a quick kiss, but not as quick as the ones he’d got used to; this was softer and longer. Just a bit, but enough. She got into the driver’s seat and he waved them off. He watched her drive away and told himself he was going to make this work.

  Forty-nine

  When he got home at lunchtime, the driveway was empty. Maybe they’d all gone down to the beach, although Charles might have stayed behind, he wasn’t exactly a beach person. He got out of the car slowly, still thinking about what he’d learned at the building centre. The front door was open and he went inside. There was no one there. He looked into Matt’s room and couldn’t see Charles and Mary’s bags, which was strange. In the bathroom, he saw that Anna’s toiletries were missing. Quickly he went to the bedroom where he saw a note in front of the computer.

  Goodbye Nicholas, it read. I know we’ve had our problems and I’m sorry about that, but this is not something I can live with. I can never trust you again. Anna.

  The screen of the computer was dark, but a flashing light told him it was on standby. He stabbed a
key to reveal what was there, and winced as the image appeared.

  It seemed much later but maybe it wasn’t. He was standing outside, in the backyard, looking at the wall he would have to remove to add on the extra room. Realising this was stupid, he shook his head to try to clear it. Nothing changed.

  He had to do something, talk to Anna. He tried to imagine what she must be feeling now, and knew he had to get in there, be part of it, before she shut him out forever. She was like that, one for decisions, final choices. For a brief moment it occurred to him that maybe it was for the best, that the marriage had not been working out, despite last night. But he pushed that away, almost panicking at the thought.

  If only he’d told her himself, he’d have had more of a chance. Or maybe not. Last night was affecting the way he was seeing things now; it was necessary to remember the long drought before, the barrenness. It got to you, wore you down, you started to die early. He needed to remember these things or else this might drive him mad.

  Inside, he found his phone and turned it on. There was a message from McIver but not from Anna. He called her and got her voicemail, begged her to call him. Then he left the house and got into the car, hardly aware of what he was doing. He put it into gear, surprised he was able to function—he didn’t know if he’d closed the door of the house—and started to drive. He just drove, he had no idea where he was heading, except that he did, of course. When he came out of it after a while, he saw he was almost at the airport. Somewhere overhead, planes were moving across the sky. He almost missed the turnoff but made it, and realised he was more alert now but this was not a good thing. Everything had become more difficult; for a few seconds he even forgot how to operate the car and felt a sense of panic—was he driving on the right side of the road? It was as though he was drunk, but another part of him wasn’t, and he reached the car park entrance telling himself he could do this, go inside the airport, find Anna, talk to her, about her, then Matt. She couldn’t take his son away.