Dead Cat Bounce

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Dead Cat Bounce Page 27

by Peter Cotton


  ‘So why did Proctor have to die?’

  ‘Like I said, our friend here set him onto Tom, and once he got his claws in, he wouldn’t let go.’

  ‘But what did Proctor actually do to him?’

  The very question seemed to provoke Lomax. She raised her revolver back to Lansdowne’s head, took a deep breath, and then squinted in anticipation. This was it. Lansdowne sensed it, too. His face creased up, then he bent over and spluttered as his body was wracked by another coughing fit. Lomax looked at him with contempt, and lowered her weapon. Then the anger went from her eyes, replaced by an almost sorrowful look.

  ‘Mum’s last mistake was to tell Tommy about Mondrian,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘And what it had done to Dad. She’d already told me. That’s why I went overseas — to escape the whole business. Then, when she died, Tom and I went through her things, and found Dad’s transcript. They all had one, but only Proctor had the tape. After we buried Mum, I went back to Thailand, and Tom shifted out here.

  ‘When I’d been gone a couple of weeks, Tommy phoned Proctor and abused him for what the scam had done to our parents, and he threatened to give the transcript to a journo. Well, Proctor knew how to handle that. He told Tom that these cabins and everything else we owned were proceeds of crime, and that if ever the Mondrian story got out, we’d lose the lot. And he told Tom that if that happened, he’d end up tied to a bed in a psych ward somewhere, covered in his own shit.’

  ‘That was cruel.’

  ‘Yes, but then Proctor started coming out here every couple of months, just to remind Tom of what he stood to lose. And he badgered him for the transcript, which Tom refused to hand over. By any measure, detective, Proctor was torturing my brother at that point. Of course, he denied it when we got him back to Rodway. He said he was protecting himself. And Michael here …’

  She jammed the revolver into Lansdowne’s spine, and he grunted as he stumbled towards the edge of the landing. His hands were pressed to his mouth, ready to smother a cough. I had to keep her talking.

  ‘No doubt this all had a big impact on Tom,’ I said.

  ‘A very big impact,’ said Lomax. ‘I know this place doesn’t look like much, but it anchors him to the world. Especially the lake down there. And Tom knows it, too. That’s why he’d call me whenever Proctor visited. He was desperate for me to sort it out. And I couldn’t let it go on. Especially after what they did to Mum and Dad.’

  ‘So you decided to kill Sylvie and come back to Australia as Penny Lomax?’

  ‘Yes. I came home as Penny. And Penny had one aim — to do whatever it took to protect Tom. And I knew that, in the end, that would probably mean killing Proctor. And this guy.’

  So, finally, here we had it — an explanation for the audacious crime spree that had already taken two lives and could soon take more, including my own. It was a vendetta that had overtaken an election campaign, shocking the nation and making Australia the centre of world attention. Was this what it was all about? A sister’s love for her vulnerable brother, and her determination to protect him, no matter what the cost?

  ‘But you worked with Proctor for a couple of years,’ I said. ‘You could’ve taken him out loads of times. Why’d you wait till now? ’

  ‘Lots of reasons. He’d pretty much stopped coming out here by the time I was working for him. And having me around made Tom feel much better about things. And while I hated these people, I enjoyed the job. But then Proctor’s tape appeared at the party.’

  ‘And you thought that if you could get your hands on the prime evidence of the Mondrian conspiracy, Proctor wouldn’t have anything to hold over Tom. So why’d you have to kill him?’

  ‘Because after we dumped Susan’s body, he came out here and accused Tom of killing her. It had moved beyond the tape for him by then, so I had no choice. Anyway, I hated Proctor, so it wasn’t hard to do him.’

  ‘But a gas chamber?’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you just shoot him? Or hit him over the head with something?’

  ‘The room was Joe’s idea,’ said Lomax. ‘He’d already soundproofed it for his music, so converting it took no time. And he always said that if gassing cats was the humane thing to do, why would we do any less for humans.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The cats. What was their significance?’

  ‘Joe’s idea as well. He said the cats would confuse you. And he was right, wasn’t he?’

  ‘And was there a real Penny Lomax?’

  ‘Of course. She was an Aussie junkie I met in Chiang Mai. An only child, with dead parents like me. It was too hard to resist, so I helped speed things up for her. And once she was gone, I had her passport, so I got her face, too.’

  ‘In Bangkok?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And who was Joe?’

  The question touched a raw nerve. Lomax’s eyes narrowed as she lifted her revolver over Lansdowne’s shoulder and aimed it squarely at my head. Then she squinted slightly as her finger tightened on the trigger.

  ‘Ahh! There you are,’ said a woman’s voice from below. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

  I looked down, and there was the psych standing at the edge of the clearing. She had a big smile on her face, and she started walking towards the stairs. Then a loud crack rang out from behind me.

  The bullet hit the psych in the chest, jolting her backwards a couple of steps. She looked up at us again, this time clutching the hole that Lomax had made in her. She lifted her hands away and studied the blood dripping from them. Then she dropped to her knees, saying nothing, her eyes wide with surprise.

  I dived for the side of Hanley’s cabin as a couple of bullets whizzed past my back. I had to escape while I still had the cabin for cover, and the trees bordering the path below looked like my best chance. I leapt off the paving, landed in a stumble-run, and ran down the slope with my arms whirling, fighting to keep my feet, heading for the trees, and expecting a bullet in my back.

  Lomax’s first shot cut down a sapling a few metres ahead of me. She cursed loudly. The next shot would have pleased her more. I heard it, and simultaneously felt the bullet tear through my side. I threw myself forward and seemed to fall forever. Then my shoulder hit the ground, and I went head over heels all the way down the rest of the slope. A third shot rang out, and I tumbled into a dark thicket at the bottom of my fall.

  Channel Four Live Cam

  Friday 9 August, 4.30pm

  Good afternoon, Jean Acheson here with hot news of a possible breakthrough in the Lansdowne abduction.

  Just moments ago, ten police helicopters took off from Fairbairn Airbase bound for a property near Lake George about thirty-five kilometres north-east of Canberra.

  I understand an arrest warrant has been issued for a resident of the Lake George property, a Mr Tom Hanley, and more than a hundred law officers have been mobilised to hunt for this Mr Hanley in the area around the lake.

  Meanwhile, for those still interested, a poll conducted overnight and this morning shows the government jumping to a two-point lead this election eve. Let’s hope and pray that Prime Minister Lansdowne survives to celebrate what appears to be his impending victory. Here with the Live Cam, this is Jean Acheson.

  38

  THERE ARE FEW things more shocking than getting shot. But I can tell you that if you’re still conscious and you’re able to move, you don’t rip back your clothes and immediately check out your wound. You’re desperate to know how bad it is, of course, but you’re unlikely to rush the self-examination. Most shooting victims take time to accommodate what’s happened to them, as I did then.

  The injured area was hot, and it throbbed like hell. I put my hand under my jacket, and it came out wet with blood. I pressed the palm of my hand hard against the wound and took some deep breaths while the pain subsided. Then I eased myself up to my knees and crawled forward through the thicket till I h
ad a view of the cabins and the stairs.

  I spent a minute studying the slope, looking for movement, but I saw none. I would have taken a sounding, but there was a whirring in my ears that was getting louder the longer I crouched there.

  After considering various courses of action, I decided my best option was to climb to the ridgeline above the cabins and drop down on Lomax from above. But first I’d have to deal with the damage that her bullet had caused. I slumped back against a tree trunk, unzipped my jacket and pulled my shirt out of my jodhpurs.

  The bullet had ripped through my jacket and shirt, and punched a channel through the skin, fat, and flesh at my side. Technically, it was a graze, but it was bleeding freely and it could slow me down, even incapacitate me, if I didn’t deal with it properly.

  I put pressure on the wound and crawled deeper into the trees till I found a fallen log to sit on. I took off my jacket and shirt, and held the shirt by its sleeves and spun it around on itself to create a wad of cloth. I pressed the wad into the wound, wrapped the arms of the shirt around me, and tied them into a knot at my good side. Then I put my jacket back on and sat for a minute, catching my breath and settling my nerves.

  When I was ready, I moved deeper into the trees, making my way in the semi-darkness, putting distance between myself and Lomax. Once I was far enough away to be safe, I headed out of the trees into another clearing and started climbing the slope I’d so recently fallen down.

  The going was easy at first, but then the ground got much steeper, even precipitous in places. And each time I stretched for a branch or a bush to pull myself upwards, a jagged pain exploded from the wound at my side.

  By the time I scrabbled up over the rim of the ridgeline, I was puffing like a smoker, and my shirt was soaked with sweat and blood. I took half a minute to catch my breath, and was soon staggering through a stand of banksias on a well-worn track that ran parallel to the drop. From there I stumbled towards the cabins, certain that Lomax was lying in wait for me somewhere up ahead.

  I was dealing with this fear when the bush began to thin out, the track started to veer back towards the edge of the ridge, and the top cabin came into view. I dropped to the ground and remained prone for a few seconds as I assessed the track ahead. Then I crawled to the edge of the stairs and examined each of the seven cabins below me. I tried to take a sounding, but the whirring in my ears made that impossible.

  What next? Did I go down without a weapon? I’d be very exposed if Lomax was waiting for me down there. Then I noticed that the whirring in my ears had become more intense, somehow, and the nature of it had changed — to a chopping noise. And I recognised what I was hearing. Jenny Smith and her old bomb had made it. I had choppers on the way.

  I swung around and faced the far-off whoomping noise, and, as I did, the faint sound of someone coughing came to me from further up the ridge. It had to be Lansdowne. Without thinking, I jumped up and ran as quickly as I could in the direction of the cough. Then I saw something move in the middle of the rock formation that dominated the highest part of the ridge. It was there for an instant and then gone. I stared at the spot for a few seconds, but saw nothing more. If it was Lomax and Lansdowne up there, they had quite a lead on me. On the other hand, Lansdowne’s condition meant that they wouldn’t be travelling very fast. Spurred on by that thought, I took off after them.

  The track became steeper and changed from dirt to rock, and I was soon scrambling up a huge granite outcrop that arced gently to the top of the next ridge. Halfway up the incline, I stopped to catch my breath and to check my wound. The bandage was secure enough, though it was wet with blood, as were my trousers. I knew that if I thought too hard about the injury it would rob me of vital energy, so I closed my eyes for a few seconds and drew strength from the sound of the choppers in the distance.

  I was down on all fours as I pulled myself up onto the ridge. From there I followed the track through a series of granite boulders and out onto a giant ledge that afforded a full view of the length of the lake. I walked to the edge of the ledge and took in the dramatic vista for a second. And as I moved off, a metal click stopped me in my tracks.

  ‘Stay right where you are,’ said Lomax, ‘and raise your hands, very slowly.’

  I did as I was told, and she stepped from behind a rock wall about ten metres away, her revolver aimed at my chest. I glanced over the ledge but saw no escape there — just a short, steep incline to the rim and a forty-metre drop onto boulders below. I bent my knees and got ready for her to fire. I felt like a soccer goalie defending a penalty kick, except that my aim was to miss the ball rather than stop it.

  The noise from the choppers was building. She glanced in their direction, then turned and gave me a hard stare. She squinted slightly, and I pushed off to my right as she squeezed the trigger. The bullet missed me by millimetres, but she swiveled fast, and the pistol followed me.

  I readied myself again. I doubted I’d be so lucky a second time. She squinted. I pushed off to my left as she squeezed the trigger, and all she got was the dull click of metal on metal. She hadn’t reloaded! I steadied myself, and then I rushed her.

  She side-stepped and tried to hit me with the pistol as I charged through, but I grabbed her gun hand and used my momentum to pull her off balance. I hauled her towards me and jabbed her on the nose a couple of times, sending her glasses flying, and then kicked her left knee, hyper-extending it. She screamed, but somehow slipped out of my grasp. She staggered backwards, then stopped to gather herself, close to the edge of the incline.

  It was never going to be a fair fight. She had the revolver up again, ready to club me. I moved in and feinted a punch to her left side, and she pushed off on her right leg to avoid the blow. Then I feinted a punch to her right side, and when she pushed off to her left, the knee I’d kicked collapsed beneath her. She fell onto her stomach and then slid down the steepest part of the incline. The revolver fell from her hand and rattled down the rock past her. She watched it fall over the edge and clatter onto the boulders below.

  Lomax struggled to stop herself joining it, her attempts to claw her way back up the incline only increasing the impact of gravity. She grasped at a small bush growing in a crevice, but it gave way, and her hands were still scrabbling as she went over the edge.

  I held my breath and waited for the thump from below, but it didn’t come. So I dropped to my knees and eased myself down the gentlest part of the incline. I tested the staying power of the biggest bush near the edge, and I held onto it tightly while I peered over.

  Lomax’s fingers were wedged into a crack in the rock face, and she was hanging on grimly, trying to catch her breath. She sensed me above her, but she didn’t look up.

  ‘I suppose you reckon this is it,’ she said, struggling to get her words out. ‘Copper gets his woman, and all that.’

  The choppers were only minutes away now. If she could hang on, they’d save her. Then again, did she want to spend the rest of her life in a cell? There was a shuffling noise on the ledge above me. I turned so fast that I almost lost my balance. It was Lansdowne. He looked exhausted and a bit bewildered. He nodded, but I barely acknowledged him. I faced Lomax again. She was eyeing the drop.

  ‘It’s up to you,’ I said. ‘And your fingers. You can relax them now, or you can hang on and we’ll save you.’

  She adjusted her hold, one hand at a time, swallowed hard, and looked down at the drop again. I don’t know what made me do it, but when she took her eyes off me, I quickly bent down and grabbed one of her wrists, and her hand came away from its niche in the rock.

  I had a good grip on her, and I was certain I could save her. But then she let her other hand fall out of the crack, and it flopped to her side, forcing me to cope with her full weight. I couldn’t hold her for long, so I let go of the bush that had been my insurance, and I got hold of her forearm in both hands and began pulling her up.

 
Lomax hung limply in my grasp until her chin was level with the rim I was crouching on. Then she walked her feet up the rock face, and when her knees were almost touching her chest, she flexed her legs and pushed off, forcing me to let go of her. Our eyes met briefly as she flew backwards. She looked calm in that moment, resigned to her fate. And, seconds later, she hit the boulders below with a grunt.

  It was no easy job getting myself back up onto level ground. I took it slowly, and Lansdowne helped me the last little bit of the way. Then we stood near the edge, looking down at Lomax. The thudding chorus of choppers was almost upon us now.

  ‘The cavalry arrives when it’s all over,’ I said with a mirthless laugh. ‘At least they can go and find Hanley now.’

  ‘Hanley?’ said Lansdowne, his face contorting as he wrestled with a memory. ‘I think Lomax told him to drive around to Geary’s Gap. Then he was supposed to meet us.’

  ‘Where?’ I said.

  ‘Oh! Somewhere around here, I think …’

  As if on cue, Tom Hanley stepped from the rock wall into view. He had both hands wrapped around a semi-automatic pistol that was pointed at Lansdowne. Hanley took a few steps towards us. Then he bent down and picked up his sister’s glasses.

  ‘What’ve you done to her?’ he said, suddenly wild-eyed and ready to explode.

  As if in answer, Lansdowne looked down at Lomax, broken on the rocks. Hanley followed his gaze and gasped.

  ‘You bastards!’ he said, again lining the prime minister up in his sights.

  Hanley swallowed, and his weapon moved in his hands as he readied himself to fire. The choppers were close, but death was closer. I looked at Lansdowne. If he’d only opened up to us, even a few days ago, we wouldn’t have been facing this. But while I knew that Lansdowne had brought this on himself, and on me, I was also convinced that I had a duty here.

 

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