Forgotten

by Neven Carr

  Macey’s eyes appear distant, contemplative. “All right,” he eventually said. “Ask your questions. I’ll decide if I answer them or not.”

  To Reardon it was a start. “Why the hit?”

  “You seem to know everything else. You tell me why.”

  “Keep your dramatics for your voters, Senator. And your games for those who actually get sucked in by them.”

  “But isn’t that what we’re doing? Playing a game?”

  “Ah, you’re doing it again.” Reardon flicked his head to Scotty. “Your chance from me was a one-time offer. See you on national TV.”

  Scotty grabbed Macey by the elbow. “Come on big shot, getting any answers from you is like putting sunscreen back in its tube.”

  Macey jerked his arm and scowled. “Get your bloody dogsbodies to back off, Reardon. And then I will talk but only with you.”

  Reardon liked the more legitimate fact that Macey didn’t want witnesses to his confessions. One small gesture, and Scotty and Andy merged back into the night.

  “I answer your questions; you let me free, back to the Sydney unit where everyone thinks I am. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “I know people also, Reardon. You ever repeat any of this to anyone and not only will I haunt whatever life Claudia has left, but also make her family’s lives not worth living. That I promise you.”

  “I believe you.” And Reardon did.

  Macey slipped to the ground and took a few more deep breaths. His lips curled callously. “I wanted Claudia out of the way…. because of you.”

  Reardon stilled.

  “I find the whole thing ironic, don’t you? You, who were meant to protect her. It would be all rather amusing if it wasn’t so very tragic.”

  Macey sat in his dingy corner, appearing like an out-of-shape wrestler who had just won his first round. When he spoke again, his voice was all cynicism and false concern. “Didn’t expect that one?”

  Of course, he hadn’t. “Why?”

  “Initially, I only wanted Claudia scared off. But when you entered the scene, well… that just promoted her to an entirely new category. You were the stature of person who could unbury too many things that need to remain buried, as good secrets should be. As I saw it, with Claudia gone, it would then get you off my back.”

  “Did you really think I would’ve dropped the case if Claudia was killed?”

  “Through all I’ve learnt about you, the man whose lungs survive with the belief of virtuous revenge, once you got Basteros and those responsible, yes, I trusted you would have.”

  Macey was right.

  He was also wrong.

  Because with Claudia, it was different.

  And as Reardon was fast discovering, with Claudia it was always different. “And you wanted her scared off… why?”

  “In case she remembered, of course, remembered… Araneya.”

  The name hung in the muggy, still air between them, mysterious and evil. Reardon licked his dried lips once. “What happened to Claudia there?”

  “The girl who lived like a pompous little princess after her screwed-up parents dumped her?”

  “You tell me.”

  Macey fell silent; long minutes passed. When he looked back up, something had changed. “Several of us had a fraternity there many years ago.”

  “I know about it.”

  Macey appeared unsurprised. “Every month we’d go hunting in the local forests. It was our way of surviving what we suffered in Vietnam. During one of our meets, a young boy was killed.”

  “Benjamin Lucas.”

  Macey nodded. “Termed a hunting accident. All very sad for the parents.”

  “And your fraternity wasn’t involved?”

  “Of course we weren’t involved. We even had witnesses to prove it. But the community reactions were different. They needed someone to blame for such a heinous crime. As we happened to be hunting that day, we became their principal target. And as the old adage goes, when enough mud is hurled, some of it eventually sticks. You can’t imagine what it was like for us.”

  “I can’t imagine what it was like for Benjamin Lucas’ parents.”

  Macey grunted. “I sympathized with their loss; we all did. But we were not responsible. And then… then Ricky Taccone happened. Not that anyone cared about him, other than us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ricky had a lot of difficulty adjusting after Vietnam; more than the rest of us. The disparaging way people behaved towards us when we returned from a war that they decided we shouldn’t have participated in. The whole thing was a political nightmare, but it didn’t help the number of good men who fought there. The entire Benjamin Lucas affair, the unjust condemnations, well… it hit a bitter nerve in us. As for Ricky? It was the last straw. He simply ran out of juice.” Macey closed his eyes. “He went out to the forest and shot himself.”

  There was silence for a moment, strange, very heavy. Macey’s expression appeared genuinely sorrowful. “The community saw his act as one of remorse. It satisfied their ridiculous conviction of us and felt that justice had been done. My father used his prominence amongst certain circles to have much of the incident suppressed, our names excluded from any police reports, including the existence of our fraternity.”

  “You mean they were bribed.”

  “I prefer to deem it as donations to worthy causes. Nonetheless, in time, it all became a distant memory.”

  “A memory that Claudia, to this day, doesn’t have. Sorry. Senator, that makes no sense.”

  Macey eyed him. “You must know what I stand for.”

  “You’re advocacy for anti-gun laws. An irony in light of your past.”

  “Take it as you will, but the fact remains I’m not just any advocate. My family and I have been one of the most devoted campaigners for a very long time, particularly since the Port Arthur massacre in ‘96. That event alone transformed gun control in Australia. Do you know as a country we have some of the most regulated firearms legislation in the world?”

  “Impressive.” Reardon deliberately checked his watch. “But let’s keep on topic.”

  Macey continued. “If the other political parties and the pro-gun activists got wind of my past, it would destroy my credibility, the credibility of my party and everything I’ve worked so hard for. As for the voters? People are such fickle creatures; support you with their lives for years and drop you at the first scent of a scandal.”

  Reardon accepted much of what Macey was saying. The popularity of certain politicians was often tenuous and relied heavily upon the public’s trust in them. A twenty-year-old scandal such as the one Macey described would provide ample fodder to any group wanting to see Macey’s reputation destroyed.

  But….

  “I understand your motivations. But it still doesn’t explain Claudia’s repression. There has to be something more.”

  “Can’t you just accept it for what it was?”

  “A rather imprudent statement, Senator. Now I know there’s something more.”

  Chapter 40

  Saul

  December 29, 2010

  12:35 am

  MACEY FEIGNED A long, wide yawn. “And the game continues. One that may have no winner.”

  “A winner doesn’t concern me. Claudia does.”

  “That’s becoming more and more apparent.”

  Reardon began playing with his watch. It was made of brushed, polished stainless steel. Its light blue glow emitted everything from the expected time to its Omega brand name. He snapped the clasp open, close … open again.

  Macey groaned. “In any good game, Reardon, true opponents take turns. Think I’m well overdue for mine, don’t you?”

  Reardon wasn’t happy providing his adversaries turn-taking time, thinking time or any other such time. It gave them too many opportunities to be creative. But his mentor’s past words crossed his head again.

  Sometimes it is in the lies that one finds the most truths.

  Reardon
decided to play. “As long as you keep the questions relevant.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Knew that one of the doers was none other than Senator Carlos Macey?”

  Macey grinned, a disturbingly boastful grin.

  “Alias Wesson?”

  The grin broadened further.

  “Alias… Charles Smith.”

  The grin died faster than rats in a cyanide experiment.

  “What crap are you talking about?”

  “Don’t Senator. In your words ‘with all you have learnt about me,’ I wouldn’t suggest suddenly playing the simpleton. Your name gave you away.”

  Macey was quiet, his eyes shrewd and watchful.

  “Charles - the Anglicized version of Carlos. Smith - Smith and Wesson - Wesson being your other alias. And then there’s the acronym. Souza, Macanetti, Iacovelli, Taccone and finally, Hercolani, their initials spelling your fake surname, SMITH. Coincidence? Not normally a fan. But I fail to see what else it could be. So then, I have to wonder, why wasn’t Cabriati included? Didn’t his initial fit your word play?”

  “Fuck you, Reardon.”

  “My, where’s the sportsmanship. But, I digress. The Charles Smith of two years back did searches on behalf of racketeering cartels wanting to employ certain people. So I get to thinking, what if he already had his own racketeering organization, something Cabriati wanted no part of.”

  “This is all very fascinating, but there’s the small matter of proof to substantiate such ridiculous accusations.”

  “You’re absolutely right, but as you know, there is no proof. You’ve learnt to cover your tracks well. In fact, I had some of my best look into it. Charles Smith, entrepreneur and racketeer doesn’t even exist.”

  “Subject concluded then.”

  Reardon feigned concern. “No, not my style. I enjoy the closure too much. So I delve some more. And guess what I find? A slight detail you overlooked. Mark Hollinger.”

  “The news reporter?” Macey laughed. “That’s sheer desperation.”

  “No, that’s sheer optimism and one that paid off. Interesting addition, Mark Hollinger. However, he was your addition. Or so you thought. The whole airport scene? On national news? Great acting, I have to say, on all your parts.

  “Firstly, Hollinger eagerly chasing you, then pinning you down for an interview you supposedly tried to dodge. And then another one of your faithful dogsbodies, Cole Ryker, the tough guy with the buzz cut standing next to Hollinger; he pretending to intimidate you, especially with the whole whisper in the ear act.”

  Macey tried to interrupt.

  “Shh… Senator,” Reardon said softly. “I’m still answering your question from your turn.”

  The Senator steepled his stubby fingers and gritted his teeth.

  “But it was your performance that outdid both Ryker and Hollinger. That expression of pure, gut-wrenching fear was truly a winner.”

  “Maybe I was fearful,” Macey hissed. “Maybe I wanted my loyal public to see how truly concerned I am with the gun laws in this country.”

  “Oh, I don’t think your loyal public was your intended audience, Senator. Vincent Cabriati was.”

  Macey’s eyes shriveled. “I don’t give a fuck about Cabriati.”

  “On the contrary, I think you do. I think he has some hold over you; that if any harm ever befell his precious daughter, he’d immediately know it was you. It’s why you didn’t have Claudia killed after Alice Polinski or after Simon Struthers.

  “However, after the brutal and still unsolved murders of two of the clan, you saw a prime opportunity to get rid of her, planning it to happen while thousands witnessed you traipsing through Canberra airport. You hoped that by displaying a certain level of public fear, that that’d stave off any suspicions on Cabriati’s part.”

  Something shady registered in Macey’s expression, and Reardon knew his suppositions were correct. He pressed on. “What you hadn’t expected was the failed attempt on Claudia’s life, something you weren’t aware of at the time of the interview.”

  “So what if I hadn’t? It means nothing in the scheme of things.”

  “It means everything. Your exact words to Hollinger, ‘My condolences go out to each and every member of those four families.’ Bad mistake on your part. At that stage, there were three families involved and only three. Alice Polinski, Iacovelli and Souza. Your seasoned arrogance had unwittingly included Claudia’s death in your calculations.”

  “You think too much.”

  “Occupational hazard. But, again, I sidestep. The name, Hollinger, was irritatingly familiar. Turns out to be the same surname as the guy who shot Thomas Bellante, a Patrick Hollinger. More coincidences? Again, not a fan. More delving and I discover that Mark Hollinger is Patrick Hollinger’s son. But you probably already knew that.”

  Reardon rubbed his slightly stubbly chin. “Now, I’m only guessing, but I think that you, as Smith, promised Patrick Hollinger something if he took the fall for Bellante. Patrick Hollinger, with all his drug issues, naively believed you. But not so naive that he didn’t pass the state of affairs onto his son, just in case something unnatural happened to him while serving his sentence. Something did. Daddy Hollinger died in prison from a massive overdose soon after.

  Enter the son, Mark. He joins your camp on the false pretext of following his father’s loyal footsteps, but all along, he only wants reliable proof to destroy you. Funny thing about revenge, it’s a need that time merely perpetuates. I know that better than most. Right now Mark is exercising that need, even though he had initially considered doing it with the federal police.”

  Moisture bubbled on Macey’s broad forehead.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  For once Reardon wasn’t. The information he received on Mark and Patrick Hollinger was bona fide. And Mark Hollinger was exactly where Reardon claimed, with his men, happily spilling his guts, in the promised knowledge that the ‘gut spilling’ would be to his advantage. “Ah, there’s that bluff word again. Tut, tut, Senator. I wonder if you know me at all.”

  “You’re such a self-righteous bastard.”

  “I try,” Reardon said in his best self-righteous bastard tone.

  “You think you have all the fucking answers?”

  “Not even close. This, whatever it is, goes far deeper than even you are aware of.”

  Macey laughed. “What crap.”

  “Really? Then I only have to ask, did you want Thomas Bellante dead?”

  Silence.

  “I’m guessing not. I’m guessing for once, you were the pawn, the one that provided a fall guy for someone else, someone of a higher authority. You see, I believe there are other forces in play in this game of yours, Senator. I have a certain role, and interestingly so do you. As for Claudia? Her role, at this stage, is minor. What I fear is that her role won’t be minor for long. What fears me more is that you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  Was he bluffing this time? Reardon wasn’t sure himself. He only knew that too many coincidences had been in play and for far too long. Like his supposed leads, so promising at first but always leading him to that proverbial and very frustrating brick wall. And then there was Claudia, the woman he was helping, and reluctantly falling for, incontrovertibly linked with this federal senator, racketeer boss and one-time friend of her father.

  As ridiculously paranoid as it sounded, Reardon believed someone else was pulling the strings. He suddenly understood how a puppet felt, sensed the strings tighten with every questionable thought dogging his head. And if his instincts were correct, uncovering the puppeteer would then become a major priority. In the meantime, as the old adage goes, he had other fish to fry.

  Macey was silent; his eyes were not. They were searching, ravenous for escape. Was he that much of an amateur? Reardon had hoped for a far worthier adversary.

  It wasn’t to be. Macey scrambled into the darkest section of the forest. And then disappeared.

  “Want us to go after
him?”

  It was Scotty. How he liked the guy, his bizarre bandanas, his quirky metaphors; more importantly, his unbinding loyalty. Reardon slipped off his watch and handed it to him. “Let me know when you have him.”

  Scotty nodded and left. That slick, that quick. Reardon expected nothing less. He then stole the free time to indulge.

  And immediately thought of Claudia.

  He could picture her so well now, laying low in the car simply because he had asked it of her. How he admired that trust, admired her. And yet, he still couldn’t shake off his perpetual misgivings about their relationship.

  “Saul, we have him.”

  Of course, they had him. Reardon’s trackers never failed. He followed Scotty through a section of thick bushland and into a cavern of tangled brushwood, low to the ground. Amongst it, sat a worn-out Macey. Andy stood nearby.

  Reardon breathed in the unique, pacifying scents of the eucalypts and centered himself. Again, he extracted his switchblade and dropped to his haunches before a sly-eyed Macey. “You disappoint me,” Reardon said.

  A shaft of moonlight caught something wholly wicked in Macey’s eyes and magnified it. “Because I fought back, didn’t bend to your will?”

  “No, because you didn’t fight back with any ingenuity.”

  “And you wanted more?”

  Reardon was silent.

  “Like I said, you’re definitely one fucked up piece of engineering.”

  Reardon ignored the comment. “Let’s get back to this racketeering business of yours.”

  “What’s the point? You have Hollinger. You win.”

  “Hollinger is my temporary insurance. You play your end of the game; give me what I need to know, and Charles Smith returns to the oblivion where he belongs. But only on the condition that his organization shuts down.”

  “As if you would do that.”

  “Oh, yes, I could, very much so. My only interests are in my clients’ welfares, which now includes Mark Hollinger. I’ll do whatever I have to do to ensure that, even if it’s outside the law. Just the knowledge that Charles Smith’s racketeering days are finished will be enough for Hollinger. His family, his wife, kids don’t need to be dragged through the media yet again. A quiet, backstage resolution is far more preferable.”