by Karen Bell
The two container ships coming from Tianjin, China were due into Port Botany that week. There would normally have been more, but with Chinese New Year around the corner, transport was winding down in order to give the ships time to return before everything closed for the holiday. That said, between the two cargo ships, there were more than 8000 containers. It would be logistically impossible in the time given, to x-ray or search all the containers, no matter how many dogs or officials they could throw at it.
There was no clear indication as to whether the ephedrine was going to be in powdered or liquid form since the source hadn’t been able to see what was being loaded, so the containers targeted for further investigation could only be reduced down to include those listed as containing liquid or powdered chemicals, as well as rice, grains, flour and sugar. They hadn’t dismissed the possibility either, that the drugs might be concealed within other hollow goods.
They considered attaching tracking devices to the containers on the ‘likely’ list but they couldn’t possibly follow them all, and unless they received solid information about which direction the cache was headed, the discovery of a device at the receiver’s end would only serve to tip off the receivers.
As if all that wasn’t confounding enough, the ships were on a tight deadline and were meant to be in and out of Port Botany within twenty-four hours. They couldn’t delay them by more than another day and realistically any delay risked setting off warning bells at the final destination. It was all very well to seize the shipment, but the real prize was to bring down a syndicate, and maybe more than one. For Ryan, whose motives were more personal, anything less than seeing Mike’s killers behind bars would be a failure.
The decision was made to delay one extra day, citing mechanical problems with one of the cranes as an excuse to slow things down and to search as many containers as possible in that time. They just had to hope to get lucky.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Mila had spent the day willing herself through activities to take her mind off Ryan and the letter that in one way or another would spell her fate.
Knowing the kind of hours he worked, she didn’t expect him to find it until well into Monday evening and the day dragged interminably by as she forced herself to pay bills and then, while on-line, to research what it would take to volunteer as a Lifeline crisis supporter. The answer was apparently, two hundred hours of learning, orientation and probationary placement to end up with an unpaid job. Mila wasn’t put off; in fact she would welcome it. She had to believe there was something beyond the void in which she was now trapped, something with meaning and purpose.
Late afternoon, her mobile rang and she all but leapt to answer it. She was disappointed not to see his name on the screen and instead, that of the club. She answered it with the brightest voice she could muster.
‘Hiya!’
‘Hello Mila? This is Vivienne from Star Strip. I’m calling because Mr Arnett has asked me to prioritise you for escort work. We have a client looking for a date tonight, and if it all goes well, for tomorrow evening also.’
Mila hadn’t expected anything quite so soon and her brow furrowed as she struggled to decide what to do. She was desperate to be there for Ryan’s call tonight and she had the regular Tuesday night dance commitment with Adie tomorrow. She could happily miss tomorrow’s class but she couldn’t miss that call.
‘I’m really sorry, but it’s too short notice for tonight, I have another commitment. Do you think I could just do tomorrow instead?’
Vivienne didn’t sound impressed.
‘Well there are several girls who’d bend over backwards to get a booking with this client, let alone two, but Mr Arnett did ask me to fast track you and I guess that outweighs my better judgment. I’ll call Edward back and make some excuse to offer him another girl for tonight, but if he decides he wants to see more of her, then you might miss out altogether.’
‘I understand. The client comes first,’ Mila responded, ‘but I really appreciate you putting yourself out for me.’
‘It’s my job,’ replied Vivienne, sounding somewhat pacified.
She called back ten minutes later to confirm the meeting and to give Mila all the details including a dress code. Mila took the opportunity to reiterate that she didn’t expect to offer any services above and beyond a fully-clothed date.
‘No, he’s a regular, a happily married hotelier who travels for business, often without his wife. He hosts and attends a lot of these dinners and just prefers to have company.’
Mila hung up, satisfied that she wouldn’t be in any danger. She still missed being able to pick up the phone to talk to her parents and when she tried to call Holly, the line went straight to message bank.
Standing there in the middle of the living room of her empty home, Mila felt suddenly very alone in the world and the tears again began to surface. Don’t’ be silly, she scolded herself, things will work themselves out.
She considered calling Adie to cancel Tuesday’s pole dancing, but knew Adie would have back-to-back appointments for another hour at least. Then, in the interests of distracting herself and killing more time, she thought she should look up what style of dress qualified as cocktail wear for her job the next night, but found herself suddenly too dog-tired to do anything at all.
It was as though all the stress and two nights of inadequate sleep had caught up with her at that very moment and although it was only four in the afternoon, it was all she could do to climb the stairs to her bedroom, take off her outer layers and slip beneath the covers.
A few seconds, and Mila was out like a light. She woke in semi darkness sometime later and was momentarily unsure if it was morning or night. Her home phone was ringing and she picked up groggily.
‘Hello?’
‘Mum is that you? It’s Holly. Are you alright?’
‘Yes I’m fine. Is it night or day?’
‘What are you talking about, it’s seven p.m., Monday evening.’
‘Oh good,’ said Mila, the sound of sleep still heavy in her voice. I haven’t been sleeping well and I guess I just crashed out for a couple of hours.’
‘I saw your missed call and I was planning to call anyway. Why haven’t you been sleeping well? Do I dare ask? Are you still seeing that policeman?’
‘No, we’ve cooled it at the moment.’ She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.
‘Oh, I hope I wasn’t responsible,’ replied Holly just a little guiltily. ‘I mean I may have been a bit hasty in my judgment. It was a bit of a knee-jerk reaction but I’ve been thinking about it and I want you to be happy. I mean I’m down here in Melbourne and you’re alone in Sydney. It would be good for you to have company.’
‘Thanks honey. No you weren’t to blame, I think we just rushed into it a bit too quickly.’
‘Oh well then I’m relieved, but just know you have my blessings to do whatever’s right for you.’
‘Likewise,’ answered Mila, smiling at her daughter’s choice of words, ‘and how is your romance progressing?’
‘It’s going well. That was the other reason for my call. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow to go camping for a few days so I may be out of range until Thursday or Friday.’
‘Just the two of you?’
‘Yes, but you don’t need to worry, he’s practically the Bear Grylls of Alaska. He’s here on exchange from a university in Canada, studying sports science. He’s been wilderness camping, abseiling, canyoning and caving – all that extreme adventure stuff since he was a kid.’
‘I think the less you tell me the better,’ replied Mila with equal measures of humour and concern. ‘Just tell me you won’t try anything beyond your comfort level. And call me when you get back, to let me know you’re safe, okay?’
‘Will do.’
Mila hung up with a better understanding of the angst Adie was going through with Daniel’s travels.
She was by now counting down in her head the minutes to when Ryan would likely be on his w
ay home from work. Still dizzy with interrupted sleep, she went downstairs and made herself something to eat and switched on the TV for some news. She still couldn’t get used to eating in front of it. It was such an Australian thing to do, but it had been outlawed in their home. At the time she thought it the right thing to do, but she had to admit that a TV dinner beat sitting at a table alone.
Eight thirty and nine p.m. came and went without a call. Give him time. He must be processing what you’ve written.
Maybe he’d gone for drinks with the boys or maybe he had a date. It was a Monday night and she doubted both scenarios. Besides he’d have to come home first to feed Jack.
By 10 p.m., Mila was unable to concentrate on anything else, and by ten thirty she could stand it no longer. She felt like a stalker, as she backed the car out into the lane without headlights. She had no intention of knocking on his door; she just had to see if he had come home or not. Driving past some twenty minutes later, she didn’t even need to slow down. The motorbike was parked on the street and the car in the driveway. Mila could see lights in the front room.
She looked down at the mobile phone on the seat. Nothing. It was the same on her landline when she checked the message bank on arriving home. Thanks to her afternoon sleep, Mila lay awake half the night. She mentally dissected every word of her letter that she now knew by heart, trying to imagine if anything in it, might have upset him to the point where he wouldn’t at least do her the courtesy of calling. Even a text message telling me it’s over would be better than nothing.
###
Mila was unaware that the night was passing in purgatory for Ryan too. He had not gone into his home office and so had not discovered the letter sitting innocuously on the desk. Although he’d dialled all eight digits of her mobile number several times, he had stopped himself each time before pushing the green call button. She owed him the explanation and he wasn’t going to go begging for it now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tuesday
Adie was disappointed when Mila called her to say she wouldn’t be going to pole dance class that evening.
‘But it won’t be the same without you,’ she whined. ‘You know I’m exclusively a social exerciser!’ Mila loved the way Adie coined her own phrases.
‘I just think I’m coming down with something. I really don’t think I could throw myself around a pole tonight, but you should go. You’re at a desk all day and you need to debrief and release some of that vicarious stress.’
‘Who’s the psychologist here?’ laughed Adie, ‘Maybe I’ll come to visit you instead. I want to hear the latest instalment of ‘Craving Private Ryan’.’
Mila winced for more than one reason. ‘No don’t do that, I think it’s viral. I’ve got a temperature and I wouldn’t want you to catch anything.’ She hoped the excuse sounded less feeble down the other end of the line. ‘Anyway Sergeant Ryan and I have decided to cool things for a while. It’s a bit soon and I think we may have rushed into it.’ Mila had lied more in the past month than she had in her entire life, and it wasn’t getting any easier.
Adie seemed far from convinced. ‘So how are you feeling about that now?’
‘I’m feeling pretty lousy doctor, but it will pass. I have to get to know myself, before I can commit to someone else again.’
‘Okay, well you know I love you and we’re here for you any time.’
‘Thanks Adie, and have fun tonight.’
‘Will do.’
Theoretically, and by way of reply, Adie had agreed with the concept of spending time with oneself before committing to another, but she recognized that Mila was only paying lip service to it, and that the waters ran much deeper than she was letting on. She had to get to the bottom of what had really happened with that policeman and she had no intention of allowing Mila to be alone with her misery.
When Adie turned up with soup that night – shop bought of course - she was baffled that Mila didn’t seem to be at home. She walked around the back and saw the car in the driveway. She waited another fifteen minutes in case she was in the bathroom and rang the doorbell again. Still there was no answer. Finally, she gave up. Maybe she was already asleep for the night, but it was only seven o’clock. She called Carlos.
‘I’m coming home for dinner after all. We’re having chicken soup.’
###
Mila’s evening went surprisingly well. Her date, while probably forty years her senior, was eloquent and interesting, and she found it easy to engage him in conversation.
Edward Lawson frequently came to Sydney from his home in London, and made it a habit to stay, not in one of his own hotels, but in whichever establishment was receiving the highest accolades at that time. It gave him the opportunity to see at a grass roots level exactly what the competition had to offer. Sometimes he brought his wife, but more often, not. Her elderly parents were needing more and more of her time while his had both passed away some years before.
Their first stop of the evening was in the Rocks area at a boutique hotel that was apparently the choice of movie stars and other identifiable moguls and celebrities wishing to stay incognito while visiting Sydney. The bar was a series of individual rooms with sliding walls that could be opened or closed, depending on the size of the party. The rooms and suites too, apparently had flexible floor plans to cater discreetly from singles, to families of the rich and famous. The whole place felt very intimate although it supposedly catered to up to one hundred guests who at any time moved about as though the only guests there.
Edward’s Australian interior design team soon joined them, in order to discuss the layout and finishes of the newly renovated hotel. Mila stuck to champagne, not wishing to risk mixing her drinks, but she had never experienced champagne quite like it. Her first glass was called Billecart-Salmon Brut Reserve or Billy as it was apparently known, and she marvelled at the fruity and floral nuances and the way the bubbles danced over her tongue. On witnessing her delight, and gathering that she was unused to good champagne, (or any champagne if truth be told) her host couldn’t resist making the next bottle a Krug Vintage. On first taste Mila couldn’t see what made one better than another but after the second sip, realised then and there she had just been spoiled for cheap champagne, ever again.
On finishing that bottle between the four of them, Mila and her date left the first ‘business meeting’ and were collected by a limo that delivered them just a few blocks away to a three-hatted restaurant overlooking Sydney Harbour from the fortieth floor of another stunningly beautiful hotel. They were joined there by the Lawson Hotel Group’s head of catering together with his life partner; the sommelier and his wife. Mila tried to conceal the fact that she was blown away by the incredible view spread out twinkling before her and concentrated instead on being gracious, not gushy; and flattering rather than flirtatious.
The degustation menu was unlike anything she had ever experienced – little explosions of exquisite flavours and textures that she tried to commit to memory. There was a small space for dancing, and between the savoury and sweet courses, Edward stood and requested her company on the floor. Mila was very grateful for all the living room training she’d received as a child when her father had put on the record player and offered her his hand, on many a Saturday night.
She couldn’t believe that this could be considered employment and felt richly embarrassed that someone would be writing a cheque for her company. She wondered wryly if she was tax deductible.
At the end of the evening, she realised that she’d probably broken a cardinal rule by telling her host what a wonderful evening it had been and just the panacea she’d needed for what had otherwise been a fairly miserable week. He complimented her generously on her ‘delightful company’ and promised to request her again when next in the country.
Travelling home later in the limousine that he’d insisted on, Mila was truly grateful for what had been a welcome break from the anxiety of waiting for the phone to ring but as she checked her mobile for messages and
again found nothing, she winced at the sharp blade of disappointment slicing into her chest.
She hadn’t for a moment considered the evening as anything more than a fantasy, a moment in time, but she had given hope to a future with Ryan. It had been real – not rebound. Mila knew it as surely as she knew that her parent’s love had been real. That’s what made the loss of it, hurt so much more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Wednesday
It was lunchtime, the following day at AFP Sydney Headquarters. Not that anyone had given much thought to food. It was D-day and they were all pumped, for what promised to be the mother-load bust, if only they could make it happen.
Ryan was looking through his case notes and photos again, now documented and scanned digitally to his iPad so he could access and add to them at any time. He was flicking through, when he stopped short at one of the security photos taken at a gaming table inside a Hi Rollers room at Crown Casino.
Last time he’d looked at the faces, he’d focused on the two men sitting in front, one of whom he thought he’d recognized as the low-life who’d gotten away with murdering Mike, the other who he’d believed to be his boss. They’d had no names and no real leads for either of them. It was a tenuous connection that had been built on questionable tip-offs by untrustworthy snitches.
Now, as Ryan expanded the image with his fingertips, he looked more closely at the man standing behind them. The face was blurry, somewhat pixelated, and he squinted as if trying to make it come into focus. He’d seen that face recently somewhere. Where the hell was it and why hadn’t he noticed it before? Then, like a light switching on, he made the connection. It was the same face he had Googled just two days earlier. What the hell? Ryan recognized the unusually high hairline and angular features. It was Robert Taylor, not just standing behind the suspects, but also leaning in, as if advising one of them on the placing of the bet.