We headed north on the M2 and encountered surprisingly little traffic until Pennant Hills Road. I decided to wait until we could confirm Wallace was home before letting Brett Thorogood know. We couldn’t afford any mistakes. If the Wallaces had already gone, Mark Talbot could accuse me of withholding information long enough for them to escape. The not-so-friendly Area Command could twist it any way he saw fit.
Mary was quiet, concentrating on the road. At a set of lights on Old Northern Road, she spoke.
‘Lots of acreages, new and old money out here.’
It was a part of Sydney I hadn’t spent much time in. I knew it attracted some high-profile people who shunned publicity and attention on their private lives.
‘This whole area used to be orchards.’ Mary glanced sideways and cleared her throat. ‘I was way out of line yesterday with what I said. About Cal.’
I looked out at striking views of the Blue Mountains in the distance. ‘If anyone had the right, it was you. We’ve known each other long enough to be honest –’
‘It wasn’t true,’ she said.
I disagreed. ‘I let my guard down and got suckered.’
‘It isn’t you I was angry with.’ She accelerated around a cement truck in an overtaking lane. ‘Surrogates in India are known to have borne kids to members of paedophile rings. Kids are bred for abuse and passed around the rings.’
I knew Mary had survived a rough childhood and that thankfully things had changed once she was fostered by a loving family. She rarely spoke about it.
Opposite a school, cows grazed. Further along, mangoes were being sold from the back of a truck. This area had rural advantages with city benefits. I let her speak in her own time.
‘I was angry at a system that gives abusers rights just because they’re biologically related,’ she finally said. ‘After everything they did to us, the courts gave our biological parents legal access. One weekend we were supposed to go for an unsupervised stay. Joanie refused and took off.’
Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.
I hadn’t known the full extent of the problems in her childhood, but I was aware that her younger sister had died at fourteen.
‘The police found her in a neighbour’s shed that night. She hanged herself.’ Her eyes were locked on the road. ‘We’d have been better off if we were dogs. No one would have tolerated that amount of cruelty to an animal.’
Chapter 46
WE DROVE THE rest of the way in silence. There was nothing I could say to defuse her anger.
Mary pulled up about a hundred metres from the address, in the shade of a tree and out of range of the camera positioned on the electric gate.
The home was a single-level colonial style at the end of a gravel drive with pines planted on either side. Lawns looked recently mowed and the garden carefully manicured. To the side and behind the house sat a six-car shed. A stripped wooden chair had been left in the sun.
My pulse accelerated. The sliding access door was open. We had to play this right to get the baby out alive. I called Brett Thorogood using Mary’s phone. Mine had zero reception.
I told him Johnny had managed to get a lead on an address in Dural. Our intel said the suspects may be inside. He warned me not to go near the house or approach Wallace. He’d take care of things from here. I wasn’t in any mood to argue. It was the safest way of getting Zoe if she was, in fact, inside.
All we could do was watch the house and wait for the posse. But I couldn’t sit still. The more information the police had when they arrived, the better.
I stepped out of the vehicle to look for other ways in or out of the property. Fences on either side and at the rear were visible from our position. I clicked photos on my phone.
The sound of a helicopter in the distance made me stop. It was headed our way.
It would alert the Wallaces. Who the hell would compromise the scene with a helicopter? I dialled Brett Thorogood and told him to get rid of the chopper.
As I left a message, Mary reacted. The Wallaces had seen me at the office, but didn’t know her. She drove the Jeep up to the gate, lurching the gears as she came to a halt. She slid out and lifted the bonnet before kicking the car.
The helicopter drew closer.
Mary held up her phone in full view of the surveillance camera, as if looking for reception. The chopper remained on course as Mary buzzed the gate.
I watched, out of sight, ready to sprint at the first sign of trouble.
The front door opened and a male figure appeared in a T-shirt and shorts. The cocky walk was impossible to miss. It was Alexandrus Wallace aka Gus Finch.
He moved towards the electric gates and exchanged words with Mary. He had one hand in his pocket the whole time. He reached for something on the side and I tensed. Mary’s body language remained relaxed but I knew she was alert.
The gates opened and Wallace casually strolled through. He stopped within arm’s reach of her as he saw the helicopter closing in.
Chapter 47
THE WAIT WAS excruciating. I felt completely useless as Mary pointed to somewhere in the distance. Wallace shielded his eyes from the sun and nodded. I guessed Mary had invented a reason the helicopter might be flying by. Whatever she said worked. He was now peering over her engine.
The chopper buzzed closer. Mary moved swiftly and deftly, pinning him against the vehicle with his legs kicked wide apart and arms dragged behind him.
I dialled Brett’s number again. This time, within seconds, police cars swarmed the address without sirens. If the wife was inside with Zoe, she could still be unaware of the ambush.
Tactical Response officers in full kit readied their weapons. The scene was about to explode.
The officer in charge spoke into his cheek mike. I had done training with Terry McMahon. He was outcome-focused and fiercely protective of his team. The odds of getting Zoe out just improved.
I sprinted towards Wallace as an armed officer tried to block my way. I produced ID and explained the man in custody was Alexandrus Wallace, the murder and kidnapping suspect. Terry gave instructions to allow me through.
Wallace was struggling against the cable ties Mary had applied.
‘Thank God, you have to help me,’ he pleaded. ‘I came out to help and this crazy bitch attacked me.’
‘Clarkey, nice work.’ McMahon stood, legs wide, arms folded, smiling at her.
Wallace’s head flicked from me to the special forces officer. ‘You know each other?’
I stepped in front of him. ‘Mary works with me. Where the hell is Zoe Ruffalo?’
Dust and wind picked up along with the noise from the helicopter. It dropped its nose and seemed to pause before accelerating rapidly down to roof level and making a low pass.
Terry McMahon gave orders into his mike. His manner was calm, but his message uncompromising. ‘Get that chopper out of here. Now! Shoot it down if you have to.’
An officer waved it away. A weapon pointed in its direction seemed to deter the pilot from making another pass.
‘You people are crazy.’ Wallace pleaded with Terry. ‘I swear to God, I just came out to help someone who had broken down.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘you played me with lies about a surrogate. All you wanted to do was kill her. Was the baby a bonus, or was she the target all along?’
‘You are insane!’ he shouted. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong. I want this woman charged with assault.’
‘Who do you know this man to be?’ McMahon asked me.
‘Gus Finch,’ I said. ‘He presented to my office and I had no reason to doubt him.’
Mary handed over the wallet she’d removed from his back pocket.
Terry McMahon leant in. ‘Right now you’re under citizen’s arrest and I haven’t confirmed your identity. For all I know you could have stolen this wallet.’
‘That’s BS and you know it.’ He raised his head and called out, ‘I have rights. I want a lawyer. Can all of you hear me? I want a lawyer.’
; McMahon leant in closer. ‘We’ll be storming your house any minute. Our priority is getting the child out alive.’ He held the microphone, turned his head to the side and spoke into it. ‘Get into positions and wait for my command.’
As armed officers entered the property and spread out, I gave Wallace another chance.
‘Tell us where your wife’s got the baby. Once they go inside, if there’s any resistance, they’ll shoot.’
Chapter 48
‘YOU’RE CRAZY. WE don’t have a child. That’s the reason we went to you. To find out about Louise Simpson.’
‘You just admitted that in front of witnesses,’ I said.
Mary and I babysat Wallace while Terry rang the home number. A few seconds later, he hung up.
‘She answered. She’s inside.’
‘God Almighty.’ Wallace tried to free himself from the binds. ‘You’ve got it wrong. We don’t have a baby. I’m trying to tell you. I swear that part was true.’
‘Then why did you lie to us?’ Mary kept one hand on his shoulder.
‘Friends we met on the surrogate site told us to. To protect ourselves.’ Wallace looked like he was about to cry. Gone was the arrogance. ‘Please don’t hurt Jen. She didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Why would you need to lie if you were going through with an altruistic surrogacy?’ Mary quizzed.
He lowered his head. ‘It was always about money. To start with, Louise wanted twenty-five thousand. Up front.’
‘Did she say she wanted more?’ Mary demanded. ‘Is that why you hit her?’
‘What? No! It was always twenty-five now, twenty-five after delivery. We met her and everything was fine.’
‘So what made you beat her? She change her mind? Is that why you rammed a knife into her?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t hit or stab anyone. Jennifer and I met Louise yesterday afternoon. At Queenscliff Beach. We worked out the arrangements and left. We’ve even got a medical appointment booked for next week.’
‘Louise isn’t going to make that one,’ I said. ‘But you already knew that.’
‘I swear to God. Louise Simpson is fine.’
Mary went to the Jeep and pulled out two crime scene photos. She slapped them on the engine in front of Wallace. ‘Do these jog your memory?’
He looked at them and turned his head away. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Look closer. Ring any bells?’
‘Please,’ he begged. ‘What does any of this have to do with us?’
‘Louise Simpson is dead.’ I jabbed at the photos. ‘Because of you. Then you took Zoe Ruffalo, an innocent baby.’
‘Wait. Is that what you think?’ He pleaded with both of us. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I’ve never seen that woman before. I don’t know who she is, but she definitely isn’t Louise Simpson.’
Chapter 49
THE TACTICAL RESPONSE team entered the house simultaneously through the front and back doors. Four more squad cars pulled up. Mark Talbot climbed out and headed towards us, as Terry McMahon checked in with his team.
The woman had surrendered and was in custody. No shots had been fired.
I pulled Mark aside.
‘Wallace alleges our murder victim was not the same woman he met as Louise Simpson.’
‘Alleges? So now you’re a defence lawyer?’ Mark sneered.
‘I’m just saying something doesn’t add up. He had no reason to lie this time.’
‘It’s called buying time by throwing in something from left field,’ he said curtly. ‘That’s your specialty.’
There wasn’t time for agendas here. ‘What if there are two Louise Simpsons? Someone else is using her identity?’
He thought for a moment. ‘You could be on to something. Now … you just have to prove the Illuminati are behind it.’
Mark was revelling in the fact my credibility was at stake. I stayed calm, but stressed my point. ‘Wallace says he met someone claiming to be Louise Simpson, with two children, who lived in Killara.’
‘And he’s an upfront kind of guy, that Wallace, or should I say Finch?’
Yes, Wallace had lied. But he was also a coward, full of bluff. The way he responded to the photos wasn’t what I would have expected from a cold-blooded killer who took his time and made the victim suffer.
If the Wallaces hadn’t taken the baby, someone else had. And they had diverted all our energies to looking in the wrong place.
Two officers came out with Jennifer Wallace. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. ‘Nothing so far,’ one said.
Sniffer dogs alighted from another car. The trainer held a flannel blanket, presumably belonging to Zoe Ruffalo, to their noses.
Mark instructed them to search the cars, boots, in every bush, cranny and under every rock on the property.
Fifteen minutes later, the trainer came out. There was no trace of a baby.
Chapter 50
THE WOMAN THE Wallaces met had to be an imposter.
I phoned Johnny and asked him to go over all Louise Simpson’s bills and debits again. We were looking for anything to suggest she was a victim of identity fraud.
He knew that meant the baby was still missing and agreed to get straight on to it.
Darlene’s new machine was processing the DNA and would have an answer within minutes. I had to get clearance from Brett Thorogood to access the police’s DNA database with the Gene-IE.
Mary and I decided to head back to the office. As we moved to the Jeep, someone called my name.
‘Gisto. Hey, Craig! Congratulations on tracking down the killer.’
The voice came from the sleaziest entertainment reporter, Marcel Peyroni. I tossed up whether to ignore or answer him.
‘Where’s the baby? Were you too late?’
‘He’s an idiot,’ Mary said. ‘Ignore him.’
‘Come on, Craig, you gotta have a comment,’ he called.
I couldn’t pretend the guy wasn’t an arsehole. But I needed to know how this fool had managed to get a TV crew here so quickly. Had someone from the police leaked the news about the Wallaces? His stupidity had compromised the entire operation. If it wasn’t for him and his helicopter, Mary wouldn’t have had to put herself at risk. And I wouldn’t have to suffer the ire of Mark Talbot.
I walked towards him, hand blocking my face from the camera lens. Mary was one step behind. I asked if we could talk ‘off the record’.
Peyroni faked a smile. ‘Of course.’
His cameraman lowered his lens, but I knew it was still recording.
‘You’re a regular johnny-on-the-spot,’ I said. ‘No one from the social pages here. You’re in the wrong place.’
‘On the contrary. This story has it all. Murdered widow, the fashionable Craig Gisto, Investigator and Scandal Suppresser to the stars.’
The microphone was suddenly beneath my chin. Peyroni had a blog, columns and a TV show. Spiteful press coverage from him could harm the business.
But I had no intention of giving him a sound bite.
Peyroni tried again. ‘Do you have any response to the rumours that you provided the killer with all the details to find Louise Simpson?’
I turned away and Mary stepped in. ‘The police will be keen to know how you beat them here. Something about obstructing justice, interfering with an investigation.’
Peyroni flashed an ultra-white smile. ‘Good old-fashioned investigative journalism. I’ve learnt a lot studying the great Craig Gisto. Do you have anything to say, Miss Clarke, on his dramatic fall from grace?’
Chapter 51
PEYRONI’S STUNT COULD have put lives at risk. Zoe Ruffalo was still missing, and we were no closer to finding Louise’s killer.
The one lead we had was the woman posing as Simpson. The Wallaces were our only hope of finding her.
I needed to get access to them during police questioning but didn’t fancy my chances. I phoned Brett Thorogood who, thankfully, picked up.
‘Craig, what the hell
went down? Mark Talbot is ropable. He says you leaked the address to the tabloid press.’
‘How many police knew? Maybe the leak’s closer to home.’
Recent raids on potential terrorists had been stage-managed for media. With state and federal elections looming, politicians and police ministers basked in megawatt coverage of high-profile arrests. PR stunts like this reminded the public police were ‘winning the war’ against crime.
Brett paused. ‘It’s possible it came from within our ranks but I was very specific. Only those directly involved were notified. Because of what was at stake and the intense media interest. It could have ended badly.’ His voice trailed off. ‘If it came from someone within the force, their career is over. No matter who they are.’
Mark Talbot wasn’t beyond suspicion either.
I described Wallace’s reaction to the pictures of Louise Simpson’s body. And how he seemed relieved that the dead woman was not the one he had met. Brett listened to my theory about someone impersonating Louise Simpson. With no other leads to finding Zoe Ruffalo, he agreed to see if he could get me in to question the Wallaces. With a warning. If I made any mistakes, the police relationship with Private would be terminated.
Mary and I headed back to the Jeep. She had been on the phone while I spoke to the deputy commissioner. She waited until we were alone inside the vehicle.
‘I just spoke to the helicopter charter company. They’ve had a chopper on hold since yesterday. Booked by Craven Media.’
I pulled the seatbelt across my chest. ‘That’s Peyroni’s employer.’
‘The pilot was on stand-by and took a call at eight-fifteen am to fly to this address. Peyroni’s team arrived twenty minutes later.’
It was like a heavy blow. That was the time we were on our way to Dural. Before I phoned the police.
‘We have to face it,’ Mary said. ‘The leak came from someone inside our office.’
Private Sydney Page 9