Double Bind

by Karen Bell

  The words Tower Life Insurance stood out from the very last envelope. Mila held it without opening it for some time. Whatever is in here, you will be okay. Mila slowly unfolded the single sheet of paper. It was dated back to the middle of December. Robert had been hospitalised at the end of the month before.

  Dear Mr Taylor,

  We refer to your letter of November 22, 2013.

  Our claims department has looked carefully into your circumstances and your assertion that you have a terminal illness. The authenticity of the test results and medical certificate supplied have been verified and there will therefore be no need of further investigation by our medical team, as per your offer.

  Your argument regarding the likelihood of the cancer having been present during your period of cover has also been put before our medical consulting team and deemed to be unlikely, given the fast growing and aggressive nature of the Adenocarcinoma form of pancreatic cancer.

  While it has been noted that you held insurance between January 1997 and February 2013, your diagnosis of terminal illness was not made until the fifteenth of November 2013, six months after your policy had lapsed.

  We would reiterate that four reminders were sent to you in that time regarding overdue premiums and the subsequent lapse in your cover.

  Not withstanding this, the senior assessment department has met and considered your request of a permanent disability payout in lieu of a death benefit.

  As a gesture of good will and ‘without prejudice’, Tower insurance is prepared to offer you a one-off settlement of fifty thousand dollars on the provision that you will agree to accept this as full and final settlement of your claim.

  In the unfortunate event you are unable to reply to this offer, Tower insurance will honour it, for the benefit of your nominated beneficiaries, for a period of six months from the date of this letter, at which time the offer is to be considered withdrawn.

  We offer you our sincerest sympathies to you and your family and hope that this meets with your acceptance.

  Yours faithfully,

  Tower Life Assessment Department.

  Mila slowly lowered the letter and took a deep breath. So now she knew it in full. Robert would never have let his life insurance lapse unless he’d been in dire financial straights. She sat there for some time resigning herself to the fact that there was no windfall hidden in any other account. That the proceeds of her parents’ house and savings were gone and that the criminals who had broken in to her home, were telling the truth about the debt.

  She was surprisingly calm. It seemed better to know than to be in the dark.

  Mila bundled everything up and made one last call to the solicitor before heading home. She had an appointment the next day but wanted to let him know that she now had more information. On hearing the edge in her voice, he asked if she was okay. Another sympathetic voice and she was back in tears and spilling all the disastrous news she’d uncovered that morning. He listened quietly, evidently shocked to learn that her parents’ money had been so easily squandered but asked her to bring in the most recent bank and superannuation statements and any other relevant insurance information. He sounded grim as he spoke but assured her that she wasn’t on her own and that he would get to the bottom of it all. She knew he couldn’t perform miracles but it felt good to have somebody on her side.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sergeant Ryan Blake was standing in an office of the AFP, discussing a case with ASIO and drug squad officers. Many of the faces had changed since he’d last worked here a decade earlier but the issues hadn’t. They were still severely under-resourced, under-funded and under-staffed to handle a growing crisis in organized crime.

  All the stats were up: more drug trafficking and money laundering; more people smuggling; more pornography; more cybercrime and more players. The strong value of the Australian dollar, coupled with relatively lax penalties in comparison to the rest of the world, was making Australia a favourite target for Asian and European syndicates. Locally, the bikie gangs, also heavily involved, were re-forming as quickly as they could be blown apart.

  The names of the drugs and their ingredients were always changing, the locations of origin too, but the upshot for the investigators was still the same. More drugs on the streets, more involuntary and underage sex workers, more children stolen or caught up in cyber sex rings. It sickened Ryan. It always had, but once upon a time he’d thought that he could make a difference, help turn things around. That was of course before his partner was killed, before Jack had been shot.

  He looked at the faces of the young-guns in the room, envied their enthusiasm and was reminded of how he used to feel. He’d spent five years trying to bring those bastards to justice but they were still out there somewhere. He was only here because his old boss Tony Saunders, had begged him to come in, a recent lead from an undercover cop having connected an imminent drug shipment to the same crime syndicate they believed had been responsible for the killing of Ryan’s partner all those years before.

  They were looking at half a dozen blurry images taken on zoom lenses and two photos caught on security cameras in one of the Hi-roller rooms at the Crown Casino.

  Ryan was pretty sure he recognized a couple of faces but it had been a long time and recently he’d spent more time trying to block out the memories than recall them.

  ‘So what involvement would you like me to have?’ he asked Tony.

  ‘For now, just fill the guys in on whatever you remember. You know, like what drugs they were playing at back then: heroine, cocaine, amphetamines; any other contraband they were trying to bring in at the same time and from where; how they were getting it into the country; where they met; any connections… you know the drill.’

  ‘But you’ve got that all on record. Boxes upon boxes of notes.’ Ryan knew there was more to come.

  ‘Ryan, I know you don’t want to be back here but we’re so close we can practically taste these assholes. We know there’s a shipment of ephedrine coming in, we just don’t know exactly in which container and on which of two ships coming from Tianjin. By all accounts it promises to be the mother-load, but more than that, we think there’s more than one syndicate involved and we’ve had a tip-off that at least one of the big bosses will be there to meet it.

  ‘You paint a colourful picture,’ he responded dryly.

  We need your instinct on this. No one knows this lot or their modus operandi like you do and we need to come at it from both sides. Don’t tell me you don’t want one last shot at nailing these fuckers once and for all. You’re still only in your thirties for God’s sake. Don’t tell me it doesn’t still keep you awake at night.’

  He was right of course. Well except for last night. Last night with Mila, he’d slept like a baby.

  ‘You must get bored with traffic duty and helping little old ladies across the road.’

  ‘Actually my job is very gratifying and I’m quite partial to little old ladies. Jack and I’ve got a good life, we get to go surfing, riding and occasionally people are even grateful for our help. Best of all, we’re not dealing with the scum of the earth every day.’

  ‘But you were made for this Ryan. This is where your passion lies. Don’t do it for you, do it for Mike, and his Mum and Dad. Don’t you think they’d like to see justice for their son after all these years?’

  That was a low blow, thought Ryan, but very effective.‘ You know you had me at Hello,’ he said. ‘You didn’t have to get the violin out as well.’

  Tony put out his hand. ‘So does this mean welcome back Federal Agent Blake?’

  ‘It’s Sergeant these days and remember, it’s just this once. You know that. Let’s not get too comfortable you and me.’ Ryan reached out and shook the hand with a grin.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  Ryan was soon ensconced in an office and wasted no time re-acquainting himself with the case, a desk-full of images and notes spread around him. There were a couple of familiar faces in the grainy group shots
taken on zoom lenses – his nerves stood on end just seeing them again - and others who he didn’t recognize.

  Only thoughts of Mila interrupted his concentration and that bastard of a husband who thought he could raise a hand to her. In his head, Ryan was tossing around some expletives that could well have shocked her.

  Six hours later, with half a dozen boxes open on the floor, and a growing stack of papers before him, he stood up to take a break. His thoughts were going round in circles and he needed some food and fresh air to keep going.

  He walked outside, expecting clouds and being surprised by sunshine. It was a typical Sydney Summer, three in the afternoon and back to a heat wave. He decided to put in a call to Mila to discuss the weather.

  ‘Hi Me,’ she answered on picking up, playing on their earlier joke.

  He smiled at her quick wit. ‘Look who’s firing on all cylinders this morning.’

  ‘This afternoon,’ she corrected, ‘and it feels like an eternity since you dropped me off this morning.’

  ‘Here too. Way too long since I kissed your lovely face. How did your appointment go at the bank this morning?’

  Mila didn’t remember telling him that she was meeting the bank manager but evidently she had, and now she was caught off guard. ‘Well it didn’t go as well as I had hoped to be honest.’ She was talking on the mobile and had, as was now necessary, closed herself in the bathroom.

  ‘Oh I’m sorry to hear that, how so?’ He asked it with genuine concern and she couldn’t lie, only sugar coat.

  ‘Well it turns out that Robert was doing some banking and borrowing that I was unaware of, so it looks as though I’m not going to be quite the merry widow that I imagined.’

  ‘That must have come as a shock. How bad is it? Is there anything at all that I can do?’

  ‘Oh no, I’ll be fine. I’m a low maintenance kind of girl.’ It was Mila’s best performance yet, she practically sang the words and she thought she’d gotten away with it, given that they were speaking over the phone and not in person. She’d forgotten that it was the human lie detector at the other end of the line.

  ‘That bad huh, I’m beginning to like your ex husband less and less.’

  ‘I hope your impressions of him, don’t rub off too much on me.’

  ‘Far from it, I’m just glad that he can’t get at you anymore. This is only money Mila, it’s health and happiness that really matter.’

  Mila said very little in reply, fearing that the more she said, the more he might come to realize the extent of the situation and worse still, that he might connect the robbery with this news. That was the last thing she wanted, to put him on a trail that could inadvertently endanger Holly. She tried to change the subject.

  ‘So how’s your day going?’ she asked. ‘Solve any crimes yet?’

  ‘Trying to, but I keep having flashbacks to you last night – in the ocean, on my lounge, in my bed. It’s very distracting and definitely not listed as beneficial in the crime fighting manuals.’

  ‘Shh,’ Mila blushed, even though there was no one around to hear their conversation.

  ‘So what are you doing this evening?’ he asked, sounding hopeful. ‘I’m happy to spend the evening commiserating with you.’

  ‘That’s a new word for it,’ she answered with a smile. It was miraculous how the sound of his voice could change her mood in an instant.

  ‘Actually I’m busy tonight. Your offer sounds far more exciting but I’m going to visit an old friend this afternoon.’ It was only half a lie. The friend was actually her pole dancing teacher and not old in either friendship or age but Mila did have it in mind to pay her a visit. As much as she would have loved to see him, she was physically and emotionally shattered and could only think of an early night.

  ‘Oh that’s okay. I’m really very busy tonight too. Jack and I are rearranging my sock drawer.’

  Mila giggled. ‘I can just picture it.’

  ‘So it sounds like it might be tomorrow evening before we speak again. I’ll miss you.’

  ‘Me too.’ Mila hung up, still smiling.

  She had been channelling her father’s words all the way home from the library. Thinking about ‘resilience’ and doing whatever had to be done. She was pretty sure her father wouldn’t approve of what she was thinking of doing but then she figured if he had been looking down on her from heaven over the past two years there was nothing she could do now that could shock him further.

  Mila didn’t doubt that she would be paid the promised visit in a month by the thugs demanding their money. She might be lucky by then to have a cheque in her hand for the superannuation, maybe luckier still to have $50,000 payout from the insurance company. Either way, it wouldn’t be enough. Not for them, and not for her to live on. She had to find a way to bring in cash and bring it in fast.

  She was unqualified. She’d be lucky to get a job making sandwiches or delivering flyers on a basic wage. That was if she could get a job at all with no employment history. The more she thought about it, the more she’d tried to push it from her thoughts and then as all other options were eliminated, the more it made sense.

  She found a parking spot in a side street and walked towards the old building. It looked dirtier and more down-at-heel by day than it had the other night when she’d come with Adie. It was the strangest thing. By night it had resonated with life. Mila had been surprised when she’d been there the night before with Adie by how un-sleazy it had been. The beautiful creatures seemed to emerge and converge after the sun went down. The restaurants and bars had been crowded with the upwardly mobile Gen Y, spilling onto the sidewalks enjoying the passing parade from candle-lit tables. Water droplets had been blowing about the El Alamein Fountain, dancing in the streetlight as if liberated from their thistle shaped structure. Even the adults-only venues had looked respectable, their flashing neon signs adding to the colour and vibrancy of the area.

  But by day, Mila noted that the Cross still belonged mainly to the cockroaches and the homeless and of course the omnipresent sex clubs that in broad daylight made Mila’s stomach turn. The whole strip stank of stale alcohol and rotting food. There were some arty looking types about, back-packers and a smattering of business people, but the whole place looked lack-lustre by comparison. It was just after four in the afternoon and interior of the club was dingy and still putrid with the smell of last night’s old beer and vomit. There was a barman spraying the tabletops, and a cleaner with a wet and dry vac, trying to suck whatever it was that lingered in the fibres of the carpet.

  Sarah, the dance teacher was on stage, fine-tuning some choreography on one of the six or more poles. She smiled and turned off the music when she saw Mila.

  ‘So how’s my new star pupil? It was funny that you called me today. I was talking about you just yesterday with a friend.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes I was saying that if you had taken up the sport ten years ago when I did, I might have had some real competition in the nationals.’

  Mila was surprised and extremely flattered. In her experience, the nationals referred to gymnastics. It had been a long time since she’d heard the word used and it still gave her butterflies.

  ‘That’s a very generous thing for you to say,’ Mila answered. ‘Of course without those ten years I’m still very much the novice and an older novice at that…’ she paused as if finding it hard to continue.

  ‘So you mentioned over the phone that you needed to see me.’

  ‘Yes I did. I was hoping you might be able to give me some advice because …I’m in a bit of a predicament.’ Understatement of the year Mila.

  It was not the first time Sarah had been approached in this way. Mila needn’t have said any more because she knew exactly what was coming. Sarah had often wondered if it was impolite to step in and say it for them or whether it would save them the humiliation of asking. In this instance, she saw the person in front of her was in significant emotional pain and struggling to find the words, so she decided to take
the initiative.

  ‘You were wondering if you could maybe earn some extra money dancing at a club?’

  ‘Yes,’ breathed Mila with a sigh of relief.

  ‘And you’re talking just pole, or lap dancing, or stripping as well?

  Mila hesitated. ‘Is there a big difference in what they pay?’

  Another frequently asked question that Sarah could have pre-empted.

  ‘Truthfully, you’ll never make any real money out of just dancing pole. If it’s moonlighting or a bit of extra cash you’re after then it’s a wage but not much more. Most clubs have a no-touch policy but that’s also going to seriously limit what you make especially after management takes their cut.

  ‘So you think I’m wasting my time?’

  ‘Don’t give up so easily, I’m just getting started. The tips are much better for lap dancing but expect to be felt up by the sleaziest guys out there – many of whom won’t tip at all. Also, you can expect a lot of competition and cattiness between the girls who all need the job as badly as you do. In the end it’s just another sales job really.’

  She noticed Mila cringe at the mention of lap-dancing.

  ‘I couldn’t handle doing that,’ she’d responded with feeling, ‘not the man-handling part at least.’

  Sarah caught herself raising an eyebrow. Did this woman have hang-ups or what?

  ‘Well if income is your primary goal and you don’t want to be touched, just ogled, then pole and stripping together is where it’s at but even then you’re going to need some well heeled regulars and be prepared to do private shows. The more you take off, the better the pay. It’s not rocket science.’

  Mila felt like a fool. She hadn’t intended taking off all her clothes. She had hoped that she could keep a bra top and hot pants or a G-string at least.

  ‘Oh and in case I forgot to mention it, you have to enjoy the job or you’re not going to last. The girls who make the most and stick with it for the longest are hustlers who love getting naked and love the power it gives them.’