The Tattooed Man hag-2

by Alex Palmer

  ‘Yes, he did,’ she replied. ‘It was inevitable that he would. They would have attended the same meetings at times, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Did you ever talk about Beck to Dr Brinsmead? Or vice versa.’

  ‘No, of course not. Why would I? Do you have a reason for these questions?’

  ‘I want to know what I’m dealing with. How did Dr Brinsmead get his burns?’

  ‘In a car accident. It was very, very tragic, and since we’re on the subject, let me tell you why I have his picture here. It’s to remind me of who he used to be. Daniel’s experience has affected him badly. It’s made him resentful and misjudging of other people. I have a concern for his welfare and have done for some time. I paid his medical costs. When his recovery had reached a certain point, he made the choice that he wanted to work here. I accommodated him. He is very good at what he does. It was his wish that his work go into the public domain. I had no problem with that. But it’s most correct to say I have given him everything he’s asked for and have never done him any harm. Again, it comes down to loyalty and integrity. I want both qualities from my people.’

  Watching her speak was like looking through a glass wall. You could see and hear her talk without any sense of what she might be feeling.

  ‘They must have been difficult decisions to make, given his state of health,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve spent my life making difficult decisions, Commander. You have to if you want to succeed at anything. To get back to the point. Will you accept my offer?’

  ‘It’s very generous, Dr Calvo, but I’m not ready to give up my job. Any way I can help you in my role as commander, I’ll be happy to. Otherwise, thank you for the compliment.’

  ‘I’m disappointed to hear you say that. People speak highly of you. We can still discuss the possibility of you investing in my corporation. Now, please call me Elena. Perhaps I could call you by your first name as well?’

  ‘I’ll stay with Dr Calvo. I’d prefer to keep it businesslike. If you could do the same for me, I’d appreciate it.’

  She sat upright in her seat with a slightly startled movement.

  ‘I thought we had been talking with some degree of openness. Certainly I’ve answered all your questions, including those which were very personal. Perhaps you’re not an easy man to connect to.’

  ‘I’m a private man. Let’s leave it at that.’

  She sat completely still, staring at him. Her grey eyes had a watchful, distrusting look that reminded him strangely of the commissioner’s paranoia. Whatever might have been in her mind, he could feel the possibility of any intimacy being withdrawn. She opened the folder on the coffee table.

  ‘Whatever suits you,’ she said. ‘These are the details of the investment package I had in mind for you. I think you’ll find it’s generous. We can discuss aspects of it as you wish.’

  He scanned it. Generous was the right word. ‘This package is a gift from you to me,’ he said.

  ‘Are you interested?’

  ‘Before I tell you that, are you recording this meeting?’

  ‘No. There are no surveillance devices in here. It’s one of the few parts of the building where there are none. Damien is watching us through one-way glass but he can’t hear what we’re saying. Which means you can tell me if you’re interested.’

  ‘If I’m not working for you, Dr Calvo, what am I doing to earn this offer?’

  ‘As we’ve already discussed, you’re in charge of an investigation that may affect me. I need a pair of eyes and ears in that investigation. Please don’t be concerned. It’s quite innocent. It would mainly be a matter of providing me with information as I need it.’

  ‘Why do you need that information?’

  ‘To protect my interests. That would include knowing anything concerning Jerome Beck, for example. Or it may be that you have evidence that could be misinterpreted in a way that’s detrimental to my corporation. Such evidence might not be as vital as you might think it is.’

  ‘You want me to destroy any evidence that implicates you.’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I said, such evidence might not be as vital as you think it is. If its real value was made clear to you, you might choose to dispense with it of your own accord.’

  ‘I need time to think about this.’

  ‘Unfortunately, there’s no time available.’

  ‘There’s always time, Dr Calvo.’

  ‘Not on this occasion.’

  She opened and turned on the laptop, shifting it to where he could see the monitor. ‘I believe this is your son’s website. I assumed he was the reason for your interest in my corporation in the first place. I have to say, when I first saw this, I was very impressed by his bravery.’

  Toby’s naked and crippled body came into view on the screen. The image dissolved into an X-ray displaying his skeleton. It was followed by the careful diagrams he’d drawn of his own frame. This is how my body is twisted and why it can’t untie itself. The blueprint of his disability was set out for the world to see, an exposure Harrigan had forced himself to live with. He could hardly bear to look at it at any time.

  ‘Your son writes eloquently of the pain of being disabled. His descriptions of his loneliness are very touching. My body is my lifeline but it’s my prison cell at the same time. It cramps me and it pinches me. I’m a turtle on my back. He’s a very intelligent young man, he clearly feels things deeply. You must be proud of him. We can offer him a better life. If you were to give me your son’s DNA profile, I could arrange for a team to be dedicated to untying its possibilities, its relationship to his disabilities. They would work exclusively on him. Of course, their results would have a much wider application and we would own that intellectual property and any patent rights. But he would be the first beneficiary, gratis.’

  Her speech seemed extraordinarily smooth, a business pitch. She had isolated Toby’s body in the transparency of the monitor as if it were a preserved specimen in a glass jar that she was holding up to the light. Harrigan realised that in his pocket he still had the handkerchief that had been soaked in Toby’s spittle the day before. Almost, he took it out and gave it to her. Instead, he reached forward and turned off the laptop. The screen went dead. Elena stared at Harrigan, more surprised than angry.

  ‘I don’t like seeing my son on the screen like that, Dr Calvo.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to share your sensitivities.’

  Her words made Harrigan cold with rage.

  ‘How long before those promised results are available? Twenty years? Never?’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask your son what he wants. Wouldn’t it be his choice to say yes or no?’

  ‘Even if he does make that decision, I’m the one who pays for it.’

  She sat looking at him for some few seconds.

  ‘I know a great deal about you, Commander. I know you’re an ambitious man. That much seems obvious.’

  She opened the folder again and slid a photograph towards him. Harrigan looked down at a police photograph of Eddie Lee lying dead on his lounge room floor, where he had been found by his cleaning lady. He looked back at Elena wordlessly.

  ‘Do you want to throw your career away?’

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘You can answer my question first, Commander.’

  ‘What is potentially so damaging that it could be worth this much money and effort on your part to hide it?’

  ‘I need a straightforward answer. Yes or no.’

  ‘Or what? You’ll release this picture? This is on the police files, it’s been in the newspaper. You could have got it from anywhere.’

  ‘Do you think this is the only piece of evidence I have relating to this incident? I have information that directly incriminates you in this man’s death. I’m sure you know exactly what it is.’

  ‘If you do, Dr Calvo, there’s only one place you could have got it from. Right now we have Cassatt’s body to go with it. Release any of it and you might end up being accused of murder.
Do you want to risk all those negative outcomes when you’re about to launch on the ASX?’

  ‘Why should anyone trace its release back to me? Haven’t you spent your working life denying the truth of this event?’ She tapped the photograph with a manicured fingernail. ‘All I have to do is send what I have to the press anonymously. After that, even if you did report this conversation, who would believe you? You would have been shown to be a public liar.’

  Harrigan looked at the photograph. In this environmentally controlled room, he had the sense of stepping into a locked and airless space that he was going to share with Cassatt permanently.

  ‘Give me forty-eight hours.’

  She laughed. ‘Why should I do that?’

  ‘Because you’re right. It’s not my decision, it’s my son’s. I need time to talk to him about your offer. I’ll ring you within two days.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ she asked, seemingly a genuine question.

  ‘I never joke where Toby’s concerned.’

  ‘You obviously care about him a great deal. If you recall, I told you there was no time. But you sit there and ask me for forty-eight hours.’

  ‘Can’t you wait until after the launch?’

  ‘Yes, of course I can. You’re right, there is always time,’ she said, suddenly relaxing. ‘Does this mean your companion will still be attending?’

  ‘I expect her to, yes.’

  ‘Then I look forward to seeing her. Perhaps we can conclude this meeting now.’

  ‘Yes, I think we can,’ he replied, thinking gratefully of release.

  Elena took her folder and laptop back to the desk where she picked up the phone. Immediately Damien stepped out of the inner room.

  ‘Sam, would you come and show the commander out?’ she said into the handset. ‘Thank you.’

  Elena sat down on the lounge again. They didn’t speak. Shortly afterwards, there was a knock. Damien opened the door to Sam. Elena got to her feet smiling, offering her hand.

  ‘Thank you, Commander, for a most useful discussion. I’ll see you again.’

  ‘I think you will,’ Harrigan replied, even if he doubted that their expectations of that meeting were the same.

  Harrigan walked with Sam in silence. She was watching him.

  ‘Did Elena get inside your head?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you’re so quiet?’

  ‘It was a business meeting.’

  ‘I don’t know if Elena distinguishes between life and business. Let me tell you something. Elena will do whatever it’s in her best interests to do, whatever those interests are. Don’t ever expect anything else.’

  At one level Elena Calvo had been playing the poor little rich girl, Harrigan thought; at another, the tough businesswoman. I want someone to kill and possibly die for me. Probably all her life she had been led to expect that kind of loyalty with no questions asked. As for her loyalty to him, it would be purely conditional. If he didn’t do what she wanted just once, that would be the end of it. She didn’t hire people; she bought them.

  ‘Did she tell you how her father made his money?’ Sam asked.

  ‘No. We didn’t talk about him after you left.’

  ‘He’s an arms dealer. He started in the black market at the end of World War Two and he’s sold arms all over the world ever since, to every war you can name. Gene technology is just another line of investment for him.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ he asked.

  ‘Check Jean Calvo on the web. It’s all there. He doesn’t hide what he does.’

  ‘Does Elena ever talk to you?’

  ‘Me? God, no. I’m the hired help. It’s my job to be invisible. That suits me fine.’

  Harrigan wondered if Sam realised how much antagonism she was showing. For whatever reason, her self-control was fraying at the edges, had been throughout his time here. Maybe she didn’t like being bought. Maybe this strange locked-up building disturbed her. It would disturb him if he had to work here.

  They had arrived back at the entry to the car park. He collected his mobile and beeper. Sam saw him out to his car.

  ‘Your e-tag will get you out of the grounds. Once you leave, it won’t get you back in again. Like your badge, it’s dead as soon as you drive away from here.’

  ‘I’ll learn to live with the disappointment.’

  She laughed and then her face went hard. ‘You never know when someone’s after you, Harrigan. Maybe you should keep an eye on your back. Bye now.’

  He drove out of the car park, relieved to see the garage door slide open for him, the main gates swing back as he approached them. Out on the public road, he breathed free air. ‘I know a great deal about you,’ Elena Calvo had said. To Harrigan, this was an insult. She knew nothing about him. But what did he know about her?

  In one way, she had told him a great deal about herself. None of it made her any easier to pin down. He could envisage much of what she had said being repeated by a lawyer in a court of law as an excuse for actions otherwise apparently incriminating. And she was a murderer: Cassatt’s murderer if no one else’s, and someone with the motive and the capacity to remove Beck and his cronies if only because they threatened her business. Her grief for Julian Edwards didn’t mean that she wished the result undone.

  The visit had only complicated matters. He put her out of his head. What he needed was solitude and space to think. Right now, he didn’t have time for needy, controlling rich women and their ambitions, whatever they might be, whatever schemes they were juggling. He had a long drive ahead of him. There were other lives to protect.

  16

  It was well after midday, later than Harrigan had hoped it would be, by the time he was on the road to Coolemon. His first stop had been the underground car park at the Macarthur Square shopping centre at Campbelltown. While he was driving around, a parked car flashed its lights at him. He pulled into the nearest empty bay and walked over. Ralph got out of the car to meet him.

  ‘Hi, boss. It’s all ready to go.’

  They swapped keys. Harrigan slid into the driver’s seat of the new car. Ralph took the suicide seat. He opened the glove box and took out a shoulder holster and a gun.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said, handing them to Harrigan.

  ‘Just call me the fashionista,’ Harrigan said, covering the whole kit and caboodle with his light summer jacket.

  Ralph grinned. ‘Marvin knows nothing about these arrangements, boss. Trevor kept him out of the loop like you asked.’

  ‘What about putting a guard on my son?’

  ‘He’s got that in motion. Shouldn’t be a problem.’

  This was more a precaution on Harrigan’s part than the expectation of a real threat. He was being careful. Cotswold House was a secure environment; no one could just walk in there off the street. Harrigan’s family had been threatened more than once in his career and Toby had had guards put on him before. Trevor had been obliging; doing what Harrigan had asked of him without asking too many questions.

  ‘Tell him thanks from me. I’ll be in touch as soon as I get to Yaralla.’

  ‘How’d you go with Elena Calvo? What’s she like?’

  Harrigan had already spent time considering how much of his meeting he should conceal and how much reveal.

  ‘Tough and ruthless,’ he said. ‘She won’t be easy to deal with. She’s got her own agenda. Keep her in view. Everything you can find out about her-her corporation, her father, their connections-dig it up. She’s a significant player.’

  ‘We’ll handle her. Okay, boss. See you later. Good luck.’

  Ralph would wait another half-hour, then leave. Harrigan drove out, the tinted glass of the car’s windows providing him with some anonymity. He hit the road with a sense of freedom.

  Coolemon was in the south-west of the state. Grey nomads travelling through the town were sometimes heading south-west to Adelaide and then across the Nullarbor Plain to Perth; or turning north to Broken Hill and from there, going north or west into the red heart of the continent. Thei
r caravans trundled along the desert tracks as if they were native to the landscape.

  Harrigan followed the Hume Highway south, stopping for fast food not far past Yass. Not long after, he turned off the highway onto the back roads and began heading west into the sun. The road was a single carriageway lined with old eucalyptus trees, their leaves gleaming in the hot afternoon light. Cattle trucks and local farmers were the only hazards. He drove through the old rural towns that had followed on white settlement, their main streets making up the highway: vistas of old courthouses, abandoned bank buildings and closed stores. Silent pubs stood with their doors open and their high verandas shadowing the footpath. In these towns, the war memorials stood in the main street, silent stone soldiers mourning over their guns.

  As the hours passed, the road grew more straight. Flocks of grey apostle birds foraged in the red dirt either side of the bitumen. Crows, their densely black feathers glistening in the sun, settled on the roadkills. The dry, empty pastures were sapped by the drought, reduced to a scraped and pale gold marked by scattered trees and low bush-covered hills against the horizon.

  The kilometres passed without incident. Despite this, he felt a sense of unease. It had been too simple, almost effortless, swapping cars and getting out on the road. But even if there was something wrong, all he could do was drive on.

  Some five hours after he had left Campbelltown behind, Harrigan drove into the large, straggling town of Coolemon. He stopped at the police station. The duty sergeant had known him during his time there and was welcoming. The backup was on standby; they would be waiting for his call whenever they were needed. Harrigan accepted the sergeant’s invitation to a meal and spent the occasion talking about the cricket.

  By the time he left the station, it was growing dark. About a kilometre out of town, a state forest lined the roadside, the casuarinas closing in like thinned-out human figures. Eventually open pastures took their place. Harrigan opened his window to the quiet outside. Stillness stretched to the horizon. There was a full moon, scorching the surrounding paddocks to an incandescent ash. Driving in this solitary moonlit darkness, Harrigan felt a free man. In a rare moment of equilibrium, he was at ease with himself.