In Safe Arms

by Christine, Lee

  An hour, from the time he put the money in the locker.

  An hour, before he needed to leave for the compound and report back to Kennett.

  An hour, to get a sighting of the collector.

  Chapter 23

  8:00 a.m. Thursday

  Luke put the skim flat white on the table in front of his wife, and slid into the booth next to her. ‘What’s that?’

  Allegra lifted up a small, intricately wrapped gift box for him to see. ‘Earrings I bought for Josie’s birthday. I’m going to leave them in the top drawer of her desk.’

  Troubled by his wife’s grief, Luke slipped his arm around Allegra’s waist. With Simon Poole away, she was busier than ever, and the temp she’d been assigned couldn’t make headway through the mountain of work as efficiently as Josie. To compound her irritation, she found Henry Grace difficult to talk to.

  It all added up to his wife being tired, stressed and not her usual self.

  But worst of all, Allegra was terrified for her friend.

  Luke gazed at his wife’s profile. He loved the way she’d done her hair this morning, some kind of intricate upstyle that highlighted her bone structure and exposed the swan like curve of her neck. Known among the legal fraternity as the “perfumed steamroller”, to him she was a potent mix of strength and fragility. And right now, she was showing her vulnerable side.

  Frustrated he couldn’t do anything to help, other than use his contacts to follow the police investigation, Luke rubbed a hand over her back. Most of the leads had dried up already. One or two functioning cameras had yielded a handful of plate numbers, Nate’s among them. But the registration details showed a Nate Jordan as registered owner, not Nate Hunter.

  Luke was positive they were one and the same person, though to date, the police hadn’t been able to track down Nate Jordan. Just at the moment, they were more concerned with reports leaking straight from the rank and file of the Southern Cross, that a retaliatory strike against the Altar Boys was planned for Saturday afternoon, following Lizard Mulvaney’s funeral.

  ‘I can understand Lizard sending the boys protecting him home,’ Allegra said suddenly, resuming their conversation prior to him lining up for coffee, ‘especially if he wanted to discuss leaving the Southern Cross. But being murdered the very same night? Someone knew he was alone.’

  Luke sipped his coffee and thought for a moment. ‘The protection boys could have gone back to the Southern Cross compound. Their presence would have tipped off certain parties that Mulvaney was alone. Josie told police it was two bikies.’

  Allegra looked at him over the rim of her cup. ‘Do you think Mulvaney was killed by his own gang?’

  ‘I don’t know. The Altar Boys claimed responsibility for the attempt at the Court House.’ Memories of that day sent a cold draft through Luke’s body. Allegra had come close to a bullet that day. ‘The police are not prepared to state publicly that Josie witnessed the murder, and I agree with that. If she is alive, she won’t stay that way for long once the bikies learn she can identify them.’

  Allegra flinched and put down her cup. ‘Mulvaney went to great lengths to try and contact me.’

  Luke nodded. ‘He was a family man living on borrowed time. Maybe he wanted to discuss providing for Sandra and the kids in the event of his death.’

  ‘We’ll never know now.’

  Another thought came into Luke’s mind. ‘What did Simon have to say?’

  ‘Not a lot. I expect he’ll call and speak to Henry again.’ Allegra pressed her lips together, as if she’d been about to say more, and thought better of it.

  Luke frowned at her hesitation. ‘What?’

  She gave a tired shrug. ‘I may be wrong, Luke, but I got the impression Simon was thinking of coming home.’

  Henry Grace locked the office door then moved behind the huge oak desk to sit heavily in his chair. With a weary sigh, he buzzed his secretary.

  ‘Yes, Mr. Grace?’

  ‘Hold all calls please.’

  ‘Certainly.’

  Henry listened to the dial tone, sweat beading his forehead so he had to wipe it away with the back of his hand. Eventually, he punched out the number, counted the rings at the other end. One…two…three…

  His son picked up on the fourth ring. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘It’s me.’ Henry closed his eyes at the huskily slurred word. ‘Not working today?’

  A yawn.

  Henry could picture him, dirty blonde tousled hair, skinny frame sprawled out in the ground floor studio he rented somewhere in Sydney’s west.

  ‘Don’t start til five.’ His son’s voice was raspy, rough, damaged.

  ‘We’ve got a problem.’ Henry locked the disappointment and associated guilt deep inside him, like he always did. ‘Something bad’s happening.’

  ‘What do you mean bad?’ His son was more alert now.

  That’d be right.

  He showed a lot of concern when things affected him.

  Henry sucked in an untidy breath. ‘You might have seen on the news that Josephine Valenti is missing. What police aren’t saying is that she witnessed Lizard Mulvaney’s murder before that tat parlour went up in flames. Allegra Greenwood acts for the Southern Cross. Naturally she’s been asking a lot of questions. Her husband’s one of Sydney’s top security experts. Between them and the police, God only knows what will be uncovered.’

  ‘How does it affect me? I thought you fixed my situation years ago.’

  His situation?

  A novel way of putting it.

  The ungrateful little prick.

  ‘I’ve been fixing it ever since. What have you been doing?’

  As he’d come to expect, his son’s voice took on a defensive ring. ‘Where was I going to get four hundred grand?’

  Right then, Henry was grateful he couldn’t physically get to his son.

  ‘Paying your gambling debts was the easy part,’ he bit out between gritted teeth. ‘But the big shot realised I could be of use. I’ve been breaking the law for ten years so he wouldn’t send the bikies around to break your kneecaps.’

  There was silence at the other end, and Henry gazed at the framed photograph of his wife, and tried to stay calm. If she ever found out, it would kill her.

  ‘If I get caught — I’ll be struck off, disbarred. I’ll go to prison, and I won’t be able to guarantee your safety.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘The bikies are on the brink of out and out war. You might want to think about getting out of Sydney.’

  Chapter 24

  The instant Nate stepped inside the gym he spotted Dickson by the weights, wiping himself down with something the size of a handtowel. A loud hip hop mix pumped through the stereo system. Everywhere people were in motion.

  At the front desk, he registered as a casual and paid for an hour’s workout and a locker. In the men’s change room, he donned gym shorts and trainers, placing the plastic bag containing the bundles of cash on top of his boots and folded jeans.

  Back in the workout room, he headed over to where Dickson was standing by the lockers. To the casual observer, Dickson looked to be taking a breather while he drank from a water bottle, but Nate understood he was directing him to locker 17.

  As he passed by, his offsider slung the towel around his neck, a pre-arranged signal which told Nate he had nothing to report.

  He relaxed a little and scanned the room. Nearly all the machines were in use, and the clientele not listening to personal music players were running, cycling or rowing in time to Jay Z’s “Ninety-nine Problems”.

  No-one even looked in their direction.

  Nate zeroed in on locker 17.

  The door stood open.

  Empty.

  As Dickson performed a series of lunges, Nate placed the money inside the locker and spun the combination closed. Keeping his movements unhurried and relaxed, he located locker 26, put his gym bag inside and again spun the combination. Then without so much as a glance at Dickson, h
e headed across the room to claim a vacant treadmill.

  ‘Do you need help with the settings?’

  Nate removed an ear bud as a female staff member wearing a blue Fit Forever tee-shirt stepped in front of him.

  ‘Thanks, I’m fine.’

  The girl left, moving between the machines, eyes searching for anyone in need of assistance.

  Nate stepped onto the black mat. The machine lit up like a Christmas tree and he punched in the speed and incline. It had been a while since he’d undertaken any hard exercise, and he was rearing to go, confident it would take the edge off his anxiety while he waited for the money to be collected.

  He watched Dickson head towards the men’s change room and breathed a little easier. Both drops had been made now, and in less than ten minutes, Dickson would be watching over Josie.

  After last night’s debacle, Nate was confident his offsider would be on his game.

  ‘Can I get you another tea?’

  Josie pretended to check her watch before looking at the waiter. ‘Um, I might have a skim latte. I’m killing time until a job interview.’

  ‘One skim latte coming up.’

  The waiter was back in minutes, setting her coffee on the table and tearing her account from his notepad. ‘Good luck with the job.’

  Josie smiled and returned to watching the commuters, keeping a keen eye out for anyone going into the dry cleaners. There were constant updates coming in from the gym. The money was in place. Dickson should be with her in about ten minutes.

  The plan was for the two of them to return to the hotel while Nate carried out surveillance. If no one showed in that hour, he’d head back to the compound and report to Kennett.

  Her cup was halfway to her lips when there was a loud bang.

  Josie’s body jerked, nerve endings prickling as hot coffee slopped into her saucer. Broken pieces of china skated across the floor in all directions, and when she turned to her right, a red faced waiter was apologising to patrons.

  Josie put down her cup with a trembling hand, watching as the young man squatted between the tables and began gathering up the broken pieces. A triangular bit had come to a stop under her chair, and she bent down to retrieve it, passing it to the waiter with what she hoped was a sympathetic smile.

  ‘No, no, leave it, leave it,’ someone said in heavily accented English.

  Josie looked up to see the owner bearing down on them with a mop and banister brush. He was shaking his head and glaring at the waiter. ‘You’ll cut your fingers.’

  Josie froze, heart beating in and out of time, but it wasn’t the owner who commanded her attention. Beyond his rotund body, she could see Mr. Grace’s face in the crowd. The senior partner was moving with the steady stream of people, a Nike sports bag in his hand.

  He was almost at the cafe when he made a sharp right turn, dodging between the crowd and stepping inside Uptown Drycleaning.

  Josie reached for her cup, gulped down a mouthful of hot coffee then swore under her breath as she dripped it all over the grey suit. She reached for the phone with a trembling hand, sent a silent thank you to Dario Byrne for the effective disguise.

  Disordered thoughts crowded into her mind, bouncing around and ricocheting off each other as she tried making sense of it all.

  The Southern Cross.

  Lizard Mulvaney.

  Providence Pty. Limited.

  Where had she seen that name?

  Henry Grace?

  Uptown Drycleaning.

  A strange sensation, like a cold waterfall, rolled down her spine and spread throughout her lower back. Was Henry Grace’s next stop Fit Forever Gymnasium?

  She had to message Nate.

  No!

  She wasn’t worried or threatened, was she?

  She didn’t know, couldn’t bring order to the chaos in her mind. Grace and Poole was a large firm, with offices only a few blocks away. It wasn’t inconceivable Mr. Grace would drop off his laundry on the way to the gym.

  But…

  Doubts wormed their way into her head.

  She took a deep breath, swallowed another mouthful of coffee and told herself to calm the hell down. The most important thing was to get a shot of him coming out the door. If he did end up at Fit Forever, she’d hear it through her ear piece.

  And she’d message Nate then.

  Nate started with a fast walk before breaking into a run, feet flying over the treadmill mat, buoyed by the prospect of making multiple arrests.

  Barely noticing the ache in his shoulder, he kept his eyes on locker 17 and imagined the outcome.

  Kennett, the Viper, behind bars for the murder of Lizard Mulvaney. The entire Altar Boys’ inner circle, including Bull, Grassy and Kennett, charged with money laundering offences, plus the manufacture and supply of illegal drugs. And there were others, like Ong Chung and the guy he was waiting for now, cleaning the dirty cash through a variety of means he was yet to discover.

  Ultimately, there was the Overseer, an enigma, hiding at the end of an intricate labyrinth of companies and trusts.

  Nate stretched out, revelling in the feeling of running again. When the arrests were made, he’d be credited for smashing the biggest drug ring in Australian history, and his career would be made. He’d have his choice of consulting work, and the opportunity to work with everyone from the Australian Federal Police, to U.S. Law Enforcement, even MI5 and MI6.

  He studied the people around him. Most were women, and he barely gave them a second glance. Motorcycle gangs were run by men, with women unable to become fully patched. A chauvinist like Kennett would never trust a woman with a mountain of dirty cash.

  Suddenly the door opened, and a man he recognised strode in.

  Nate’s heart gave an enormous thud, which had nothing at all to do with the exercise. He knew the man, had looked at his portrait hanging next to Simon Poole’s in the waiting room outside Allegra’s office. But he’d never seen Henry Grace in person until now.

  Thankfully, Grace didn’t know him.

  Nate changed the speed and incline on the treadmill, the machine giving a series of beeps while he kept his eyes trained on the well-known lawyer. He watched him nod to the girl behind the front counter.

  A regular customer.

  Sweat poured down Nate’s face, mind racing as he watched Henry Grace pass by his treadmill and move towards the lockers.

  Allegra acted for the Southern Cross.

  Mulvaney called Josie.

  Josie knew the name Providence.

  Henry Grace?

  What the hell was going on?

  Blood roared in Nate’s ears. If Grace was the collector, he could be moments away from arresting one of the most respected lawyers in New South Wales. Adrenaline pumped into his muscles and he lifted the phone with his right hand, slowed the machine to a walk with his left.

  ‘Henry Grace is in the gym,’ he murmured. ‘Copy.’

  He could only imagine Josie’s shock.

  ‘Copy that. Standing by.’ Dickson’s reply came back within seconds. He’d stay in his current position until further instruction.

  Grace was now at the lockers. The lawyer turned, eyes performing a quick scan of the room. Nate focused on a spot on the carpet and didn’t make eye contact. Was Grace searching for Grassy? Had Kennett even alerted him to the personnel change? He doubted it. With these kinds of arrangements, the left hand never knew what the right hand was doing. Information got you killed, so no-one asked questions. People did their bit and got out.

  Grace seemed to come to a decision. He turned around and moved to locker 17, opening the door and shoving his gym bag in beside the bundle of money Nate had left there. Then he spun the combination closed.

  ‘Got him,’ Nate murmured.

  The lawyer flung his towel over one shoulder and sauntered over to a rowing machine. He was settling himself in the seat when Nate’s phone buzzed in his hand, the alert from Josie highlighted in the centre of the screen.

  Henry Grace was in the dr
ycleaners.

  Nate’s mind screamed with possibilities. He had the lawyer accessing the locker, and Josie had him as well. If he arrested Grace now, they were sure to find the money he’d left with Ong Chung fifteen minutes ago inside the gym bag.

  Henry Grace was the collector.

  A slow, cold creep inched over Nate’s scalp despite the heat of his body.

  Was he “O” as well?

  Christ! He had no way of knowing for sure.

  Blood continued to roar in his temples, drowning out the hip hop blaring through the stereo system.

  ‘Standing by,’ Dickson said again.

  Nate looked around the gym. There had to be at least fifty people in the place. Arrest a prominent member of Sydney’s legal fraternity here, and it would be all over social media in minutes. There would be no way of containing it.

  Worse, if Grace wasn’t the overseer, it would tip off the real deal — and the Altar Boys. His cover would be blown, and his quarry could flee the country before the story hit the nightly news.

  Mulvaney’s funeral was the day after tomorrow.

  All hell could break loose.

  He couldn’t expose Josie — not yet.

  He had to keep her safe.

  While there was a mountain of evidence against Grace, he needed to know the full extent of his involvement.

  It was time.

  Time to contact Luke Neilson, bring him in on the operation.

  ‘Abort,’ he murmured, hoping the mike picked up his words over the throbbing beat of the music. ‘Proceed as initially planned, copy.’

  ‘Copy that,’ Dickson shot straight back. ‘Leaving the gym now.’

  Chapter 25

  2:00 p.m. Thursday

  Centennial Park in Randwick was quiet, save for the odd jogger, and two horses from the nearby Equestrian Centre being put through their dressage paces. But the area around the duck pond was deserted, the young mothers and toddlers who frequented the area on a weekday, having left to collect older siblings from school.

  Nate could see Luke’s white Holden parked up ahead, and he left a good distance between the car and the Harley. He would have preferred not to bring the bike, but with the investigation gathering momentum, time was of the essence. He’d come straight from the compound.