by Jean Harrod
Her mobile rang in her hand. “Simon?” she answered.
“It’s me, Jessica.”
“Oh hello, John.” She was relieved to hear Langhurst’s voice.
“You sound upset,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Oh, you know.” He sounded weary. “Still shell-shocked. And I was, well, I was worried about you.”
She was touched. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” she heard herself say.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Jessica. Really, I don’t.”
Hearing a soft rustling, she jerked her head round. No one there.
She looked across the river. The sun had gone down now and twilight was gathering pace. “It’s Susan I’m worried about,” she said. “She’s got Ellen’s diary; and the police need it for their investigation.”
There was a pause.
“Are you still with the police?” he asked.
“No, I’m on my way back to the Consulate-General to do some work.”
“They are looking after you though, aren’t they?”
Then she did what she always did when someone showed her any kindness or concern, she changed the subject: “Did you get to Canberra okay? she asked.
“Meetings. Meetings. All I ever seem to do is attend meetings.” He paused. “Jess, have you ever thought of leaving the Foreign Office? Working somewhere else... in business perhaps? I mean, don’t you want to settle down in one place? Make a good life somewhere. Travelling all the time must take its toll.”
She felt her breath catch in her throat. He could never guess the pain his words evoked. Her job had cost her everything she held most dear.
“We could do with someone like you on our team,” he went on, unaware. “Why don’t you come and work for Western Energy?”
Was he offering her a job?
He went on, quickly: “It would be a good position, with a good salary. In fact, I’d like you to work with me, I really would.”
She was speechless.
“Look, you don’t have to give me an answer now. Think about it. But don’t take too long.”
“I’m really flattered but...”
“Think about it,” he insisted. “Promise me you’ll do that.”
“Of course.”
“Good. You’re just like Ellen,” he said. “Smart. Unassuming. Never miss a trick.”
Jess was so surprised, she didn’t know what to say.
“Now, I’d better go and get ready,” he said.
“You’ve got the High Commissioner’s dinner tonight, haven’t you?”
“Duty calls.” He sounded weary again. “I’ll ring you tomorrow if I may, Jess.”
“Of course. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“See you soon,” he said and hung up.
She sat staring at her phone. Amongst all the madness, she hadn’t expected to be offered a job. Now, replaying the conversation in her head, she realised he hadn’t been specific about what kind of job. She didn’t know much about the energy and resources sector, although she could always learn. Derek Marshall had said Langhurst wanted to go into politics. Now that was more her thing. Working for an Australian politician could be interesting, exciting even. And she did love Australia, so staying here would be great. No point getting carried away, she told herself, but it was flattering to be offered a job like that. Made her feel good about herself. Was that how he’d head-hunted Ellen Chambers in China, she wondered?
She closed her eyes and put her head back on the seat. She could hear the hum of traffic in the background and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was calming sitting there after such a bizarre day. In fact, it had been so frantic she hadn’t had much time to think about this special day.
“Happy birthday, darling,” she whispered, as her thoughts drifted back to Amy’s third birthday party in Jakarta, the last one they’d all spent together. She remembered the cake she’d baked. In her usual rush, she’d forgotten to add the baking powder and the cake had come out of the oven as flat as a pancake. Jack had ridden to the rescue and covered it with loads of marzipan and icing. And Amy and her little friends had stuffed it down like nectar.
Oh Jack!
Hearing that soft rustling again, she opened her eyes. At first, she thought the tree was full of birds. That is, until the squeaking started.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. Bats!
Overhead, they hung from every branch of the tree, like ripe fruit. Wide awake, their eyes were watching her as they prepared to fly across the river for their night-time feed on native fig trees.
Flesh crawling, she leapt up and fled down the path.
25
Back in the Consulate-General, Jess sat rigid behind the desk in the early evening gloom. Nigel and Chen? Her head whirled. Nigel couldn’t be involved in corruption, could he? No, that didn’t make sense. She frowned. Of course Nigel would have known Anthony Harris. She remembered the little beads of sweat on Nigel’s forehead when they talked about Ellen Chambers’ murder yesterday morning. Was he telling the truth when he said he hadn’t known her? But even if he had, that still wouldn’t explain how he knew Chen Xiamen, and well enough to meet him in a back street café in Brisbane of all places.
She had to talk to Simon.
She phoned him again and got his voicemail. She phoned the High Commissioner’s mobile, and got his voicemail too. This was ridiculous! She was just about to ring Sharon when she heard the Consulate front door slam.
A chill shivered up her spine. It had to be Nigel. The staff had all gone home, and he was the only one with a key to let himself in.
As she waited in the semi-darkness, listening to every sound outside, her heart quickened.
Nigel appeared in the doorway, face ashen. His normally combed-back wavy hair hung limp over his forehead.
“Hello, Nigel,” she said, quietly.
He walked over to the Consul-General’s desk, as if he expected her to vacate it for him.
She didn’t move.
He stared at her, then sat down on the sofa. “You’d better tell me everything that’s happened since you arrived in Brisbane yesterday.”
The accusation in his voice, as if she were personally responsible for the madness, riled her. He was the one with some explaining to do. She fought to keep calm. Maybe there was a rational explanation for him meeting Chen? She had to give him the chance to tell her.
Taking a deep breath, she recounted everything that had happened since she landed in Brisbane in as factual a way as she could manage. She didn’t hold back about being followed from the airport, or about her room being searched, or about almost ending up under the wheels of a bus. But she did leave one thing out: seeing him with Chen in that café. She would wait. If he told her about it, she would know the meeting was above board and she could trust him again. “And that’s about it,” she said, watching his reaction.
Eyes guarded, he said nothing.
She could feel a gnawing anger inside, which surprised her. She hadn’t felt any emotion like it for a long time. But there it was bubbling away, like a seething volcano. “Have you anything to tell me, Nigel?” She heard the edge to her voice.
“Why should I? I’ve been in Canberra all the time?” He shook his head. “What a nightmare! First Ellen Chambers, then Tony Harris, and now this Danny Burton.”
She looked out of the window to hide the turmoil inside; he wasn’t going to tell her anything. Should she confront him? Then her stomach flipped.
Did he just call Anthony Harris Tony?
The penny dropped. Of course! That’s who he’d been talking to on the phone yesterday morning when she’d stood outside his office. Christ, Tony... I can’t believe it. What was it he’d said after? Something about handing over something in confidence.
Oh my God! She put her elbows on the desk and gave him a piercing look. “Tell me what’s going on, Nigel?”
His eyes bore into hers. “What are y
ou talking about?”
She struggled to keep her voice under control. “I should have known the Federal Police had Ellen Chambers and Chen Xiamen under investigation for corruption before I set off from Canberra. And why didn’t you tell me about that intelligence report from our Embassy in Beijing?”
He took off his glasses and started rubbing the lenses.
“Had you seen it?” she asked.
Still nothing.
“Nigel?”
“I don’t have to answer to you,” he said, icily.
“You let me come up here to deal with a consular case and deliberately withheld the background. I have a right to know why.”
“I hadn’t read that report before you left. I wasn’t aware of its significance.” His voice was controlled, but he didn’t look at her.
Did he think she was completely stupid? “I think you had read it, Nigel. And you were well aware of its significance. For God’s sake! Three people have been murdered!”
He looked startled by her anger. “What do you know?” he sneered.
“Tell me, then!”
But he just looked away, which infuriated her even more.
“So what did Anthony Harris have to say before he was murdered?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed.
“That is who you were talking to on the phone when I came into your office yesterday morning, wasn’t it?” She paused. “Christ, Tony, you said. Then you mentioned you’d given him something in confidence. What was it, Nigel? What did you give the Federal Minister in confidence?”
“Were you eavesdropping?”
She ignored the accusation; she had him cornered and he knew it. “So what had Harris done, Nigel?” She paused. “He knew about the murder of Ellen Chambers by then, didn’t he? After all, he was her lover and the father of her unborn child.”
“Unborn child?” Nigel looked shocked.
“Ellen was 16 weeks pregnant when she was murdered. Did Anthony Harris have something to do with her murder, Nigel? Is that why he phoned you?”
Nigel glared at her, furious at being challenged.
But Jess was on a roll. “And what about Chen Xiamen, the man suspected of paying bribes to Ellen Chambers? I’ve just seen you both having a cosy chat in a back street café. The police can’t seem to find him. So how did you?”
“You’re imagining things now.”
“And you’re lying.” She knew she had him on the back foot. “Don’t bother denying it. I just saw you with your heads together.”
His face turned hard as he stood up. “How dare you!”
The gloves were truly off now. She pushed the chair back and stood up to face him. “You know exactly what’s going on, Nigel; and you’re somehow involved.” She lifted her chin. “You like to think we’re all fools, but we’re not.”
“You bitch!” He towered over her, fists clenched.
Time seemed frozen as they glared at each other.
Then he turned and stormed out.
As he slammed the door behind him, Jess staggered back onto the chair, heart hammering. What the hell just happened? One minute he was quiet and upset, the next he turned on her like a raging bull. She was shaking as she replayed every word of the row in her head. But now she was convinced she was right; Nigel was definitely involved.
She flicked on the metal desk lamp, which shone its bright beam over the desk. Outside, the last of the winter light had almost faded. The lights in a nearby office block were blazing. She could see people still working inside, which meant they could probably see her. Had they witnessed that argument? Feeling vulnerable, she got up and snapped the blinds shut. She went over to the door and poked her head out. Everything was in darkness.
Her ringing mobile shattered the silence.
“Jess.”
“Simon.” She could hear the relief in her voice. “I’m so glad to hear from you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Nigel! We just had a blazing row, and he’s stormed out of the Consulate-General. God knows where he’s gone.”
“A row? What about?”
“I accused him of lying. He got mad and...”
“Christ, Jess! What did you do that for?”
“Because he is lying, Simon. I don’t care what he told you and the High Commissioner, he deliberately kept hold of that intelligence report and deliberately didn’t tell us about the police investigation into Chen and Ellen Chambers. And on my way back to the Consulate-General from Police HQ, I saw him in a café with Chen. When I mentioned it, he accused me of imagining it.”
“Could you have been mistaken?”
“No way! He’s lying, Simon.”
“This is going to send the High Commissioner into the stratosphere.” Simon’s voice was tense. “He just had a strop at the Federal Police Commissioner; he thinks he’s not being kept in the loop. He pointed out in no uncertain terms that Ellen Chambers was a British citizen and demanded to be given all the information. Now, I’ve had to ring up the heads of Foreign Affairs and Trade and all the Security Agencies to get them here for dinner an hour earlier than the other guests, for a drink in his study.”
And Jess knew what that meant; HC was going to give them all a grilling. She’d witnessed that before, the High Commissioner sitting at his desk in his dinner suit, gold cufflinks glittering in the lamplight. He’d be rolling a fat cigar between the finger and thumb of his right hand like a weapon. If the assembled group didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, he’d light up and suck on it until a cloud of smoke filled the room. Everyone would be loosening their collars and ties to breathe. But he wouldn’t let anyone out until he’d got what he wanted.
“Our security technician has been over to sweep his study for bugs,” said Simon. “HC insists he wants a full and frank discussion.”
“Any more news from our Embassy in Beijing, Simon? Do we know the source of the corruption allegations?”
“Not yet.” Simon sighed with frustration. “They have to get clearance from London to transmit sensitive information.”
Jess understood the intelligence implication.
“HC has asked for the e-gram to be delivered to his residence immediately it arrives.” Simon paused. “That’s where I am now. He came home early to work in his study before dinner. I’ve just been helping Lady Patricia with the table placement. Not that she needs my help.”
Jess could picture the High Commissioner’s wife slotting a place card into a silver holder at each setting on the dining table. The sinking late-afternoon sun would be bathing the surrounding hills and garden in the orange glow of sunset, and beaming through the dining room window onto the crystal glasses and glittering silver cutlery.
She looked around the Consul-General’s shadowy office in the lamplight and felt a pang of loneliness. She wondered, as she had so often, what stroke of fate had led her to join the Foreign Office, and end up living alone in far flung places. That offer of a job at Western Energy was becoming more attractive by the minute.
“Still there, Jess?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go and tell HC about Nigel and Chen,” Simon said. “Or do you want to talk to him?”
“You tell him,” she said. “I’m finding it hard to keep my temper at the moment.”
There was a pause. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.
“Work on here for a couple of hours, where I can stay by the phone. I need to talk to London. Then, I’ll check-in the Riverbank for the night – it’s not far from here.”
“Right. I’ll talk to the High Commissioner and ring you back. It may take a while. Just don’t leave the Consulate-General until you hear from me.”
“Okay. But if Nigel rings, don’t let him talk you round, Simon. He’s involved.” She paused. “And that makes him dangerous.”
“Jess,” Simon said, crossly. “I can’t let you handle this on your own.”
“You have to see out the Foreign Secretary’s visit.”
“Sod t
he Foreign Secretary... I’m coming up to Brisbane tonight.”
“No, Simon. Someone has to carry on with business.”
“For God’s sake, Jess!”
“Simon,” she said, voice firm. “I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’ll wait here. You ring me back and tell me what the High Commissioner wants me to do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, with a confidence she no longer felt.
*
Jess tried to settle at the computer, but she couldn’t concentrate. Nigel’s angry face kept flashing before her eyes. She’d seen his true colours tonight, and it was an ugly sight. Too agitated to work, she closed her laptop screen and raised a slat of the blinds to peer out. Only one or two lights still burned in the nearby office block; most people seemed to have left for the night.
She stood up to go and make herself a cup of tea. Flicking on the lights in the main office, she glanced through the bullet-proof glass window at reception, and stopped dead.
The front door to the Consulate-General stood wide open.
Nervous, she looked around. Was she alone? She stood watching and listening, but there was only silence. She glanced up at the CCTV monitor, beaming pictures from the camera outside the front door in the corridor. All quiet. Nigel must have stormed out and left the front door open.
She went over to the front door and peered out. Everything seemed eerily quiet now everyone had gone home. Suddenly, the lift motor cranked up from the bowels of the building. She heard it climb higher and higher. Was that Nigel coming back? She slammed the front door shut, turned the key in the lock, and hurried back to watch the CCTV monitor.
But it wasn’t Nigel. It was Tom Sangster, who stepped out of the lift and rang the front door bell.
She unlocked the door and let him in.
“You alone?” He stepped inside.
She nodded.