by Jean Harrod
“How the hell do I know?” he snapped.
There was a pause. “I think I’ve found the connection, Boss.” Dalton sounded strangely subdued.
The young porter sidled up to Sangster again. “Lookin’ for someone, Sir?”
“Hang on, Dave,” Sangster said into the phone, and turned to the porter. “Have you seen two women stop by here within the last half hour? One is in her mid to late 30s, slim, with shoulder-length blonde hair and wearing a trouser suit. The other is in her early 20s, slim too, with short, spiky blonde hair, probably wearing jeans and trainers.”
The porter’s eyes flashed. “Couldn’t miss those two lookers, could I?” He pointed across the road. “They drew up over there in a white car... a Holden it was.”
“How long ago?”
“Oh, about 15 minutes. The young one got out and came over to ask what all the smoke and fire engines were about.” He stopped. “Went sheet white when I told her the Echo building was goin’ up in smoke. Ran back to the car and they drove off.”
Sangster put his mobile to his ear. “Dave, the hotel porter saw the Consul and Susan here 15 minutes ago. He told them about the fire at the Echo and they drove off again. That’s where they’ve gone... to the fire.” He paused. “You said you’ve found the connection?”
“Yeah.” Dalton hesitated. “You know Roberts worked for a security consultancy in Melbourne in between leaving the Melbourne Police and joining up here?” He stopped.
Sangster tapped his foot. “Yes.”
“Well, we’ve found the company,” Dalton said, quickly. “It advises companies and high profile people on their personal security, and on the physical security of their premises and homes, that kind of thing.”
“Ah.” Sangster realised its significance. “Did Roberts do some consultancy work for Western Energy?”
“That’s what I reckon. And he’s still in touch with them. His mobile phone records show he phoned their Melbourne HQ switchboard recently.”
“That’s it, Dave,” Sangster fired back, excited. “That’s the link.”
“Yep. Our guys in Melbourne have gone round to the Company, to check with the boss.”
“If Roberts has done work for Western Energy, he would have known Ellen Chambers, John Langhurst, and Richard Price... all of them. Maybe even Chen Xiamen.”
“Yep,” said Dalton again.
“Right. Ring me immediately you hear back from the Melbourne guys,” said Sangster. “If Roberts hasn’t already done a runner, he’ll still be looking for that diary. I’m going to the Echo to look for the British Consul and Susan Chambers.” He paused. “You stay at HQ, Dave. I want you to call in every colleague who’s been working with Roberts recently. I don’t care what they’re doing. Get them in. They might not realise it, but one of them knows something useful about Roberts, like a girlfriend, or where he hangs out when he’s not at home.”
“What about the DC?” Dalton asked. “I didn’t check with him.”
“I’ll ring him from the car and report all this,” said Sangster. “And keep trying the Consul’s mobile. If you get her, tell her to drive Susan straight to Police HQ. Tell her exactly what happened to Belinda Harris. And don’t leave out any details.”
For Chrissakes, he thought as he hung up, when is that woman going to be frightened enough to stay put?
30
While Susan sped along, weaving her way through the traffic as though she was on a racing circuit, Jess was strangely calm in the passenger seat. She kept checking the mirror on the passenger sun visor, and twisting round to look out of the back window, but it was impossible to tell if anyone was following in the dark.
She noticed that the pedestrian-clogged streets and city office blocks had given way to wide suburban streets with houses and empty pavements. “Are we nearly there?” she asked.
“Yep...”
“Watch out!
Susan drove through a red traffic light, just missing a lorry coming in the opposite direction. The driver latched onto the horn.
Susan eased her foot off the accelerator, and swung right so sharply Jess hit her head on the side window. “Don’t look round.” Susan sounded panicky. “But that black Merc has been behind for a while.”
Jess checked her vanity mirror and kept her eyes glued to the Merc while Susan sped on. Up ahead, the traffic lights turned from green to amber. Susan made no attempt to slow down.
As they approached, the lights turned red.
“Stop!” Jess shouted.
Susan stamped on the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden halt.
Tensing, Jess watched the Merc draw alongside them and held her breath as the driver opened his window. Loud music thumped out. He grinned at her as he flicked out his cigar ash and closed the window. Suddenly, she jerked back in her seat as Susan hit the accelerator and sped off again.
At the next T-junction, Susan drew up behind a queue of traffic turning right while the Merc sailed on ahead. Racing down a maze of local streets and over traffic humps that almost pitched Jess out of her seat, Susan did an emergency stop outside a house.
As Jess lurched forward, her seatbelt activated and her mobile flew out of her hand.
Susan scrunched the gear, and reversed the car into the driveway.
Pinned to the seat, Jess struggled out of her seatbelt and groped on the floor to pick up her mobile. She looked over at Susan. “There’s no chance anyone would have been able to keep up with you.”
“Come on.” Susan jumped out of the car.
Jess picked up her bag and scrambled out after her. The house was in total darkness. But as they approached the front door, she noticed it was slightly ajar.
Susan hesitated. “I’m sure I closed it this morning.”
“Wait!”
But Susan rushed inside and switched on the light.
Cautious, Jess turned and looked both ways along the street. Everything was quiet in the late evening. Lights were off in most houses, leaving only a few security lights to glow in the dark. The moon was out again now, casting shadows through the trees onto the pavement.
She turned back to the front door. “Susan?” she called out, as she stepped over the threshold. But when she walked into the sitting room, she stood rooted to the spot in shock. It looked like a tornado had ripped through. She couldn’t see an inch of carpet for all the ornaments and books littered around. The cabinet drawers lay upside down on top of their scattered contents. The TV sat on its side, with its screen smashed. Even the sofa seat cushions had been slashed open and their insides pulled out.
This was no discreet search like the one in her hotel room. Whoever did this had gone berserk or wanted to terrify.
Susan had sunk to her knees among the debris.
“Come on.” Jess put a ripped seat cushion back on a chair and pulled Susan to her feet. “Sit here while I check the front door.”
Susan did as she was told.
Jess went back into the hallway. The front door lock had been forced open and was broken. She peered outside. Everything looked quiet in the garden and street in the dark. A light breeze blew up and tugged at her hair. She shivered, pushed the door to and slipped the security chain in place.
Back in the sitting room, she went straight over to the curtains and pulled them closed in case he was still out there. “Don’t worry.” She put her arm around Susan. “Everything will be okay.” But her words sounded hollow.
Suddenly Susan jumped to her feet and ran upstairs.
Following her, Jess watched from the doorway while Susan knelt down at the cupboard under the bathroom sink and pulled out a wash bag. Unzipping it, Susan tipped Ellen’s diary out onto the floor. “He didn’t get it,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “What on earth did my sister get mixed up in?” She looked up with such a pained expression that Jess felt tears prick her eyes. “You’ll help me, won’t you, Jess?”
All Jess’s protective instincts welled up. “You know I will, Susan. Now you have a good look rou
nd and see if anything’s missing while I go and phone Inspector Sangster.”
There was no protest from Susan this time.
Jess walked down the stairs to the front door. Despite the security chain, it didn’t look very secure. She dragged the hall table across the floor and pushed it lengthwise against the door, like a barricade.
In the kitchen, she picked her way through the smashed china on the floor and rattled the handle of the back door to check it was locked. She reached into her trouser pocket for her mobile and dialled Tom Sangster.
“Jess.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “Where are you.”
“At Susan’s house... It’s a mess... the whole place has been turned upside down... We came to get the diary.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Did he get it?”
“No. Susan had it hidden, in a wash bag in the cabinet under the bathroom sink.” She didn’t wait for him to say anything. “Listen, Tom, I need to tell you this quickly, in case anything... happens. I think someone wants this diary because of those codes in it. Remember I told you there was a jumble of letters and numbers on the back page?”
“Yes.”
“The first three lines are passwords and memorable data for a bank account in Ellen Chambers’ name in the Turks Bank. It’s in the Turks and Caicos Islands, a British Overseas Territory in the Caribbean, an offshore tax haven. There’s two million dollars stashed in that account.”
“So she was taking bribes.”
“Well....” Jess hesitated. “According to my colleague in the British High Commission, the British Government discovered this bank account a couple of weeks ago.”
“A couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes. The Financial Crimes Unit in the Territory uncovered two transactions of a million dollars going into that account. They routinely monitor funds going in and out of the Territory for criminal activities like money-laundering.”
“Are you telling me the Australian Feds knew about this?” There was no mistaking the anger in his voice.
“Yes. I believe that information was contained in the intelligence report that London sent your Government.” She paused. “And that’s what prompted the Federal Police to investigate Ellen and Chen Xiamen in the first place.”
“I see.”
“But the thing is,” she hesitated. “It’s all a bit too... easy. The British authorities spotted the two transactions immediately. And Susan found the account online and accessed it with the codes in Ellen’s diary in a matter of minutes.” She paused. “I think the account was meant to be discovered. You see, I think Ellen found out she was being framed, and wrote those codes in her diary as evidence.” She paused again. “I also think there’s a second bank account that we haven’t found. That’s what the other three lines of words and figures in the back of her diary must represent. That’s why someone wants it so badly. Because if we find that account, I think we’ll discover who murdered Ellen Chambers and who’s behind all this.”
“Right,” Sangster said. “Lock yourselves in. I’m coming to get you.”
“That maniac smashed the front door lock when he broke in. I’ve slipped the security chain in place and pushed the hall table against the door to barricade us in.” She hesitated. “Who was the fourth murder victim, Tom?”
He paused. “Belinda Harris, the Minister’s daughter.”
“Oh dear God!”
“I think the killer went to the house looking for Anthony Harris and found his daughter instead. She was stabbed in the heart, no bullet in the head this time. Can you see how dangerous this man is, Jess? It’s like a switch inside him has been activated. He likes to kill. I think he’s an expert stalker and hunter. He’s enjoying the thrill of the chase and the kill too much to stop now.”
“Who is he, Tom?”
Sangster paused. “One of ours gone bad... DC Roberts. He transferred to the Brisbane Force from Melbourne last year.”
Jess was in shock. “But why? Did he know Ellen? What’s he doing this for?” She paused to breathe. “You said there were two killers, Tom? Who else is involved?”
“Look, talking is wasting time. Wait there, Jess. I’m on my way.” And he hung up.
A policeman? Jess couldn’t believe it. No wonder Ellen was so afraid. She stared out of the window into the back garden. Goose bumps shivered down her back and arms. No sign of any movement. He’s an expert stalker and hunter. He’s enjoying the thrill of the chase and the kill too much to stop now. She snapped the blinds shut. She didn’t feel safe in this house.
She went upstairs and found Susan sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at a photo in a frame.
It looked to Jess like someone had punched the glass with their fist and smashed it. “Is that Ellen?” she asked.
Susan nodded. “It was taken here last December.” An angry tear burned down her cheek. “Why did he have to go and break it?”
Jess tried to comfort her. “She was glamorous, your sister. Lovely long blonde hair.”
“Yes.” Susan rubbed a hand over her short hair. “I missed out on all the good genes.”
“Nonsense, you look just like her.”
“I can’t believe she’s not here any more.”
“I know.” Jess looked around. The intruder had tipped all the clothes out of the wardrobe and drawers, onto the floor. “Tom Sangster’s on his way to pick us up,” she said, as she tiptoed her way through the debris strewn across the floor to close the curtains. A movement outside caught her eye. She could see a car pulling up a few doors away. She rushed over to switch off the light.
“What’s wrong, Jess?”
“Tom can’t have got here that quickly.”
Susan went over to the window. “It’s a white car.”
“The police use white, unmarked cars, don’t they?” Jess watched a man get out of the car. She screwed up her eyes as he stepped under a street light... those dark clothes... that peeked cap pulled down over his eyes. Her heart started thumping. She watched him put his hand inside his jacket. A flash of metal glinted under the light. She grabbed Susan’s arm. “Is there a back way out of here?”
“Yes, through the alley.”
“Let’s go! Put that diary back in its hiding place in the bathroom cabinet. If he gets us, he won’t get that too.”
Susan rushed into the bathroom.
Waiting for Susan at the top of the stairs, Jess heard the front gate squeak open. “Quick, Susan.” She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, with Susan right behind her.
She could hear footsteps crunching along the front path.
Susan was fumbling with the bottom bolt of the back door. “It’s stuck.”
Jess pushed her aside and wriggled the bolt with all her strength. It slid back with a thump, catching her finger in the metal casing. A drop of blood oozed out. “Come on.” Jess opened the back door, and ran down the path, misty rain blowing in her face. She could hear him ramming the front door against the hall table, trying to force it open.
At the back gate, Susan gasped and turned back.
Jess grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
“The gate’s locked. The key’s inside.”
“Forget it, we’ll climb over.” Jess grabbed the top of the wooden fence and pulled herself up. Scrambling up onto the top of the fence, her legs straddled either side. “Come on, Susan.”
Susan shinned up the fence with ease, swung her legs over and lowered herself into the alley.
Jess jumped down, falling awkwardly in her high heels.
Susan helped her to her feet, and started running.
Jess tried to follow, but her heels kept sinking in the mud. Wrenching one shoe off, then the other, she ran barefoot down the alley with a shoe in each hand. Reaching the end, she followed Susan into the street. The soft rain had turned harder, and was beating down on the pavement in front of her.
“Head for the church,” Susan shouted over her shoulder.
Jess looked back, thinking she saw a
flash of movement.
“Hurry up, Jess.” Susan darted over the road and headed into the field.
Jess followed. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark now, but she hadn’t a clue where she was. The ground was soft and heavy going in the field. She could feel wet mud oozing through her toes, as she kept looking over her shoulder. Heart hammering with exertion, she gasped for breath. Finally, she squeezed through a thick hedge and found herself in a church graveyard. Collapsing on the ground behind a tall gravestone next to Susan, she doubled over to get her breath back.
“Have we lost him?” Susan asked.
Jess was still curled up, breathing hard. “I think so.”
“We need to get out of the rain.”
Jess nodded. Pulling herself to her feet, she rushed over to the heavy church door. It creaked as she turned the handle and pushed it open. She beckoned Susan to follow her inside. Closing the door behind them, the cool, damp air wrapped around her. It was a relief to get out of the rain. Already accustomed to the dark, her eyes were drawn to the only source of light, at the altar. Walking towards it, she saw a large clay pot filled with pebbles. On the top, several tea lights had been lit. Behind it, stood a large board, covered with prayer notes.
In the gloomy, flickering light, she looked down at her mud-caked feet. She was still gripping one shoe in her right hand. Where was the other one? She reached into her trouser pocket for her mobile, but it wasn’t there. She turned to Susan. “Give me your mobile.”
Susan gasped. “It’s on charge at home.”
Jess felt her stomach sink.
She looked around the church to get her bearings. They’d entered through the main door at the side and were now at the front altar. Rows of wooden pews lined the nave all the way to the back, where there was a narrow staircase leading to an upper gallery. Next to that was another exit door. She walked towards the back of the church.
Susan followed, her trainers making a squelching sound on the stone floor as she went.
Reaching the back door, Jess tried the handle. It was open. She looked out. The rain was still falling like stair rods. She closed the door and flopped down in the pew beside it.