Safe Harbour

by Helene Young

  As usual Rosie seemed to read her mind. ‘Don’t worry about me. Them big old whales might be back. I’ll go sing to them a while. Tell ’em they need to be here in a month for that restaurant of yours to open. That’ll make people come.’

  Darcy managed a smile. ‘Oh, Rosie.’ She wrapped her arms around her again, rocking her from side to side. Finally she let her go. ‘Let’s get you down to the tinnie. I’ll send Noah as soon as I can if I can’t come myself.’ She shoved her iPad back into her bag and pulled the door open. The fog was swirling as a zephyr of a breeze came off the water. Something flickered in the trees a few hundred metres away on the other side of the perimeter fence. Movement. Men.

  ‘Damn. They’re here already.’ She moved away from the door, not wanting to close it in case it drew their attention. Conor was beside her.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘To the left, beyond the fence. It looked like sunlight on binoculars to me.’

  Conor sidled up to the doorway and peered into the fog. The curtain had closed again. Then they all heard the sound of a car engine.

  ‘Right. We’re going now.’ Darcy grabbed her bag in one hand and Rosie’s hand in the other. ‘The car’s around the side.’

  ‘You locked the gate.’

  ‘I know.’ Darcy glared at Conor. ‘And don’t you dare have an opinion on that right now.’

  ‘Give me the key.’

  ‘No. The whole purpose of this insanity is to keep you safe to testify. We’ll all get into the car and then I’ll unlock the gate. No!’ She held up her hand at him. ‘Don’t.’

  His mouth was tight and anger blazed in his eyes. It made him all the more imposing. ‘Let’s go.’

  Rosie shuffled up beside them. ‘I only saw two of them, but they got guns.’

  ‘Right. We’ll walk together. You ready?’

  Rosie nodded, her eyes huge. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  ‘Go.’ Darcy hurried out the door with Rosie in tow. She didn’t check to see if Conor followed. Right now, Rosie was her focus.

  They reached the car and Darcy opened the doors on the driver’s side. ‘Don’t shut them until I’ve opened the gate. I’ll be back,’ she whispered. Rosie nodded and Conor standing by the rear door just glared back at her.

  She found her way through the fog and snapped the padlock open. The chain was going to be harder to do quietly. She’d almost cleared the final length when an engine fired behind her. From the other side of the building she heard someone running.

  ‘No,’ she hissed, hearing the car heading her way. ‘What’s the idiot doing?’ She flung the gates wide and jumped clear as the car appeared through the gloom.

  ‘Get in,’ Conor yelled. The rear door was swinging and she threw herself onto the seat. Gravel spun from the wheels as Conor floored it. She scrabbled to hold on as they turned onto the road, and the door opened fully.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ she yelled. ‘The door.’ Over the roar of the engine she thought she heard a gunshot, then another. Something hit the door as it swung closed with a bang.

  Darcy was still sprawled across the backseat, trying to breathe. She hauled herself upright. ‘Rosie?’ She leant over the front seat. ‘Where is she?’

  Conor shook his head. ‘She said something about the whales calling. Before I could stop her she’d hopped out of the car and disappeared into the fog. That’s when I jumped in and drove.’

  ‘No,’ Darcy wailed. ‘They’ll kill her.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll keep clear in the fog.’

  ‘No!’ Darcy punched the seat in frustration.

  ‘Which way?’

  Darcy couldn’t think straight. ‘Turn around, we have to go back.’

  ‘No.’ Conor’s voice was flat. ‘If we do that, we’ll endanger her even more. Which way to the petrol station?’

  Darcy couldn’t stop the fear that was suffocating her. ‘They’ll kill her. It’s my fault she was even there at all.’

  ‘Darcy, stop! It’s not your fault. Which way?’

  She peered into the fog as she struggled for control, trying to get her bearings. ‘Turn left.’ Rosie was all she could think about. Perhaps if the men followed the car, she’d be fine. If she could believe Rosie was safe, then she’d be able to think more clearly. ‘We’ve got a couple of kilometres before the next turn.’

  Her phone rang in her pocket. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Darcy, it’s Dad.’

  ‘Stirling? Where are you?’ Surely he isn’t here already, she thought.

  ‘I’m still in Sydney. The flights are all delayed. I don’t know what time I’ll be there. But Darcy I’m worried about you, that man you rescued. He’s trouble.’

  ‘Really?’ She sat up straight now.

  ‘The police are looking for him. Darcy, he’s a drug runner. He’s been importing ice in his yacht from Indonesia. Is he with you still?’

  ‘Nope. Noah’s already got him in custody. Someone’s fed you a line, Stirlo.’ She was seething. ‘Why are you suddenly interested in catching drug smugglers anyway?’ She caught Conor’s eye in the rear-view mirror and glared at him as Stirling replied.

  ‘My mate, Rod Reeves, one of his boys is an addict. He’s done the legwork. This guy’s a main supplier. I just want to help a mate.’ He almost sounded believable.

  ‘You and Rod Reeves aren’t friends. Business associates at best. If he’s got all this information, why doesn’t Noah already know about it?’

  ‘Maybe he does. Maybe Noah’s not who you think he is either. Must have taken a big pay cut to become a community copper. Maybe he had issues in Brisbane he didn’t tell you about. Look, I’m worried you’re mixed up in it somehow. I don’t want to see you hurt. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are.’

  ‘Yeah, Stirlo, you’re right. I have worked damn hard. And I’ve done it all myself. No performance-enhancing drugs. Which is more than I can say for some people.’ She disconnected, feeling as though she was floating. Not since she’d run her first dinner service alone as a newly qualified chef had she felt so out of her depth. This time there was no wise maître d’ to give her a nod and an encouraging smile. This time she was on her own.

  The phone rang again. Relief poured through her at the ringtone.

  ‘Noah. They found us. We’re heading for the petrol station at the turn-off.’

  ‘Don’t do that. They’ve put out an all-stations alert. Everyone’s looking for him. He must have pissed off some seriously well-­connected people. It’s a “dangerous person” alert from New South Wales, that means it’s already circulating on the internet and to truck drivers.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Yep. Hitchhiking’s out, as is public transport.’

  ‘My ute would do the trip’

  ‘Maybe. I’m working on it.’

  ‘There’s another problem, Noah. You need to find Rosie. They burnt her house down, beat up Zeke, shot the dogs.’

  ‘Shit. I didn’t know.’

  ‘She may still be at Whale Song. She jumped out of the car before we left. I think she thought she was creating a diversion. I can’t . . .’ Darcy faltered, not able to voice her greatest fear. ‘I’m scared for her.’

  ‘Damn. We still have the highway closed to the north and the coal seam gas protest has sucked any resources that are left. I’ll see if I can get someone down to the settlement. You know someone will give her a bed. Was she in her runabout?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ve never seen her so upset. Rosie doesn’t cry for herself, only for other people. Her house and her dogs were everything to her.’ Conor had the car pushed to its limits and Darcy slid across the seat as they broadsided around a corner. ‘Mate, slow down.’

  ‘I think I saw headlights behind.’

  Darcy snapped around to peer out the back window. The road was winding and it was hard to see much. ‘Noah, they may be following us. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m a couple of k’s from the turning at the servo.’

  ‘What about the ol
d dairy quarters out at Daisy Hill?’

  There was a lengthy pause from Noah’s end. Darcy didn’t want to bring trouble to anyone else’s life, but right now she needed space to think and she wanted the truth from the man who was currently driving like a maniac in a car that was twenty years past its use-by date.

  ‘Maybe one of the abandoned farms would be better,’ Noah finally replied.

  ‘Maybe. We can only be a couple of minutes from each other. If you stop the guys behind, that’ll give us enough time to get to the other side of the highway and hopefully lose them once and for all.’

  ‘Provided I get to you before they do. It would be easier if I collected the two of you.’

  ‘No, that would involve stopping. They’d be on us before we could transfer him. Conor!’ She shot across to the other side of the bench, dropping the phone.

  ‘Darcy, for God’s sake! What’s going on?’ Noah was almost yelling by the time she got the phone to her ear again.

  ‘The lunatic thinks he’s the Stig. I hope to hell we don’t have a head-on with you.’ She saw a familiar advertising sign for a local resort. ‘Conor, slow down! The turn-off is coming up. Noah, we’re almost at the Agnes Water junction. The fog’s not so bad here.’

  ‘Keep driving and I’ll stop any traffic behind you. Head to Daisy Hill and I’ll work something out from there.’

  ‘We will. Conor, turn left. Left!’

  As they hit the run-on lane, visibility improved and Conor pushed the speed up again. Darcy could hear the police radio and Noah responding. The police car shot by in the opposite direction. ‘Noah, that was us! You passed us.’

  ‘Got you. I’ll find you later.’

  The line went dead and Darcy slumped against the hard vinyl. ‘Rosie,’ she murmured, watching Conor’s hands sliding over the steering wheel. His gaze kept flicking to the rear-vision mirror.

  ‘Where to now?’ he asked. ‘There’s no sign of pursuit.’

  ‘Bit further on and we’ll turn right, head for Daisy Hill.’

  ‘What’s at Daisy Hill?’

  ‘Noah’s parents’ dairy farm. It’s big. No one but Noah will know we’re there, especially if the fog sticks around.’

  ‘Where’s the petrol station?’

  She frowned, then realised he’d only heard one side of the conversation with Noah. ‘The cops have an all-stations alert out on you. You’re a wanted man.’ As she said the words, a shaft of fear ran down her spine. A wanted man on the run, desperate and dangerous. Surely the police couldn’t just put one of those alerts out without some justification?

  ‘Fuck it!’ He slapped the steering wheel. ‘I knew I should have gone yesterday.’

  ‘Chances are you would still have been collected. Not sure exactly why Noah’s breaking ranks, but he must have his reasons.’ She met his eyes in the mirror again. ‘Can you think of any reason why Stirling might think you’ve been importing ice from Indonesia?’

  His eyes didn’t waver, but she saw anger in the flare of his nostrils. ‘Because he wants to discredit me, and my testimony. Because he’s scared the truth is finally going to come out after all these years.’

  ‘After all these years?’

  He shook his head. ‘Darcy, your father’s been cheating for twenty-five years.’

  20

  Stirling smiled at the Chairman’s Lounge attendant as she topped up his coffee. It had taken him a long time to wangle his invite into the rarified halls of Qantas’s most prestigious waiting room. Today he wasn’t enjoying the sense of bonhomie that usually settled around his Armani-clad shoulders as he walked through the frosted doors. Instead his head was thick from arguing late into the night and his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep.

  Chantelle was furious with him, both for his lies and for embroiling her and Amelia in his disaster. She only knew the tip of the iceberg. What the hell would she say if she knew the whole truth? The thought of losing Amelia hardened his resolve. Chantelle must never know. Never.

  ‘Still no scheduled departure time?’ he asked, leaning on the counter as the young woman placed a toasted sandwich in front of him.

  ‘No, Mr Fletcher, I believe they’re rescheduling a 747 to try and get as many passengers to Brisbane just as soon as the fog lifts.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He pulled a face. ‘And no doubt my flight to Bundaberg will be delayed as well.’

  ‘Have you asked anyone to check your connection yet? Did you see that horrific traffic accident on the news this morning? Ten people lost their lives last night and dozens of others were seriously injured. I think they said the Bruce Highway was still closed.’

  ‘Really?’ Stirling had been too preoccupied on the drive to the airport to notice the news. ‘Last night? That’s awful.’ His brain was ticking over, looking for any connections to Reeves. ‘The road’s always been a bit hit and miss around there.’

  ‘You know Bundaberg?’

  ‘I certainly do. Did a stint as a school teacher at a small town called Banksia Cove. Teachers had to do remote postings, still do I think. Bundy was the nearest big town.’

  ‘So is that where they really make Bundy Rum?’

  ‘Yep, the factory’s still there, but it’s owned by a multinational now. Still makes great rum, although I’m a Scotch man myself.’

  ‘I would have picked that, Mr Fletcher. Can I get you anything else?’

  There was another passenger waiting further along the marble bar and Stirling shook his head. ‘No thanks, Cathy, that’s all.’

  Her smile was dazzling as he took his food and walked to a lounge. Always paid to read their name badges. He hadn’t lost his touch. Stirling sipped his coffee. His second-in-charge was coaching the boys for the next two days. They had plenty of drills to work on and he’d left them with some set plays for their next game. He could trust his assistant to train the boys but there was no way he could trust anyone else to clean up this mess.

  It was disappointing to Stirling that Darcy hadn’t ever grown out of being a difficult child, but he wasn’t surprised. Beverley had always indulged her. Why the hell would she hang up on her father? He was only trying to help, but she had a habit of throwing it back in his face. He thought he’d made a plausible case for handing this man over. Drug dealers were scum. He ignored the niggle he felt at the irony of it. He’d helped people, young men, escape their circumstances and make something of their lives. He’d had to fight for those opportunities himself. He knew what poverty smelt like.

  He checked his watch for the umpteenth time. Rod Reeves was not known for his patience. Thirty-six hours to convince Darcy to hand over Reeves’ employee. The discomfort in his stomach made him sit a little straighter. Had Rod really taken samples of the supplements he’d been giving his boys in Banksia Cove? Surely he wouldn’t have had the contacts to send them to a lab without questions being asked. Maybe Rod was bluffing. With so much focus on drugs in sport Stirling couldn’t afford to have that spotlight shining on him. The team was clean now. Had been for two years. It got too risky. Too much scrutiny. He’d hired the best nutritionists and sports scientists that money could buy. They all assured him the boys were clean. Any whiff of scandal would undermine the club. And by extension him. The board would hang him out to dry and run for cover. The CEO was a hard bastard, but then you had to be to put up with the pressure. Sport was business, a career maker. Nothing to do with the game any more.

  An announcement over the loudspeaker said his flight would be leaving in forty minutes. He headed for the customer service desk. Time to get his connecting flight worked out.

  When he sat down again, after being reassured he would be on the next available flight from Brisbane to Bundaberg, he checked his email on his iPad. There was a new email in his inbox. It was from a Hotmail address he didn’t recognise.

  Attached to the email was a photograph of a report from the John Tonge Centre, the main forensic facility in Queensland. Stirling knew even before he scrolled past the date that he would see Grant’s name. He
didn’t understand most of the terminology, but cause of death said, ‘Drowning by misadventure.’ Lower down it listed substances found in his blood. Ephedrine was underlined, as was testosterone.

  It took all his strength not to leap to his feet. Instead he ground his teeth together and pressed his palm into the V of his ribs where his ulcer burnt like a hot knife. How the hell had Rod accessed this? He’d never even seen it before. Banksia Cove’s policeman at the time had made sure it disappeared. Surely Rod Reeves didn’t have the contacts to get into forensic records? He ran a finger around his collar. He had to get Darcy to hand this man over. Who the hell was he? He’d been too busy to think about it more closely. What did Rod say? Trusted employee? Stirling’s fingers fumbled, leaving damp smudges on the screen, as he attempted to google the man. He typed in ‘Reeves International’ and ‘Theft’ and felt a tide of unease flood his body at the options being suggested. He tapped the screen and the headlines scrolled up.

  ‘Holy hell,’ he ground out, his lungs paralysed by his fear. ‘Conor Stein.’ The iPad clattered on the table as he struggled to breathe, his hands shaking. Cathy swam into view, her lips moving, but he couldn’t hear her words. She gripped his shoulder, concern in her wide eyes. Breathe, breathe, he willed himself. Fear hadn’t finished with him yet. Was this what dying felt like? He fought the dizziness and his mouth gaped. He managed to suck in a small sip of air. It was enough and his ribs let go. He choked, coughed and collapsed back in the chair.

  ‘Mr Fletcher, can you hear me? I’ll call the doctor.’

  ‘No, no,’ he managed to croak, his hand ineffectually grasping at her skirt.

  ‘You’re not well,’ she said. The smell of her perfume seemed to have intensified and the overhead lights set a golden halo around her head. Her hands were cool as she took hold of his fluttering fingers. God help me, he thought, his chest heaving. Am I having a heart attack? He dragged in a long breath and held it, steadied.