‘That’s right. It was given more power a few years ago so they could prosecute successfully. I work part-time for them and have done so for almost two years. I’m an investigator. Most of the time the work’s mundane. This time our investigations have overlapped with at least one other operation involving the Feds and Customs.’
‘Sounds complicated. Do you need to warn me of the confidential nature of the information you’re about to share?’ She didn’t care that she sounded bitchy.
Unfazed, he shifted against the square post. ‘Glad you can see the humour in it. Reports have been filtering back for some time that there are members of Garrison Council with ties to one of the largest building companies in Australia. That company has a reputation of being prepared to do anything for contracts. It seems it also has international connections with a drug syndicate, Asian casinos and a massive money-laundering operation. I was sent to investigate the building company. I’ve been there legitimately for over six months, working my way up the food chain. Everything was tracking along nicely, then you came home and stirred up a hornet’s nest that’s jeopardised the Federal Police and Customs’ investigation. You do realise they can call you as a witness after what happened here tonight?’
She nodded, cupping her mug tighter, although her shiver had little to do with the night air. ‘Yeah, but all I can do is identify the men. So what happens now?’
‘The trap is already sprung. A local fishing trawler rendezvoused with a tanker tonight and a shipment of drugs came ashore. We’ve already tracked funds transfers over the last month, now there’s a suitcase of marked money as well. A couple of phone taps are still in place and the attack on you will be the icing on the case, really.’ The words sounded smug.
‘So I was just part of the job. An expendable part.’
‘No, no. You misunderstand me. You were never meant to get caught up in this. Never. O’Sullivan mentioned a little troublemaker trying to organise a protest against the sale. From the way he spoke, I expected to find a hairy, bra-less, ball-breaking feminist, and instead discovered a fascinating, headstrong goddess.’ He smiled at her in the dark and his voice softened. ‘I wanted to warn you off. I tried every one of my personas and nothing had any effect.’
Ellie knew better than to fill the silence. He had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
He pushed on. ‘Even the arrogant arsehole didn’t work.’
‘I’ve dealt with bigger bastards than you,’ she retorted.
‘I don’t doubt that, but I’m sorry I didn’t foresee O’Sullivan would go this far. I thought I’d convinced them to let me deal with you.’
‘And how were you going to do that?’
‘It was a work in progress.’ He sighed. ‘Refill on the coffee? That one didn’t touch the sides.’
Ellie nodded towards the kitchen. ‘Just push the button on the top left. The machine will do the rest.’
He held out his hand for her cup but she shook her head. ‘No. I’m fine, thanks.’ But of course she wasn’t fine. The events of the evening and Nick’s explanation had only raised more questions. As soon as Critter had asked about the Toshiba she knew what they were looking for. Where the hell was Nina’s computer? Was Nick looking for it as well? Was that why he was really here, sticking to her like glue?
She knew she needed to find the Toshiba and fast but had no idea where to start. So far her dad hadn’t replied to her emails or phone messages, but then it had been less than a week. There was always a chance that Tom had thrown out the laptop, but she didn’t think so, considering everything else in Nina’s room remained like a shrine.
So who else might know? Ron, Mavis, Felicity? Someone had the answer.
35
Nick watched Ellie from the kitchen. She was curled up in the chair chewing her bottom lip, her arms crossed over her chest, hands restlessly rubbing her muscles. Her hair hung loose around her face and the T-shirt had slipped off her shoulder again. Until he knew the Feds had their end under control, he wanted her out of the Bay and in his care. Staying here the night was the least he could do. Moving her to somewhere safe tomorrow was his next priority.
With the fresh coffee in his hand, he stopped in front of her.
‘Ellie, I can’t leave you here by yourself. O’Sullivan might take matters into his own hands and he does have a gun registered to him.’
‘Then I’ll go and stay with Ronnie and Mavis. They love Shadow too. We’ll be fine there. I still don’t understand what O’Sullivan thought he’d gain by roughing me up.’
‘He may well have been naïve enough to assume you’d cave in and withdraw your opposition. You do realise that the sale could fall through without council approval, don’t you?’
Her head snapped up, a gleam of interest in her eyes. ‘No, I understood that it was a fait accompli.’
‘No way. I set it up so that once we’d finished our sting, the rest of the council would vote against the approval and the land would default back to them. It’s what I was referring to at the Bowls Club when you tried to have me run out of town.’
He saw a glimmer of a smile for the first time all night.
‘This isn’t some wind-up story you’re selling me, is it?’
He held up two fingers. ‘Retired scout’s honour.’
She laughed this time, though it was more of a chuckle. ‘Yeah, yeah. Bondi Beach Adventurer with the world’s most extensive first-aid kit.’
He sensed a softening in her and pressed home the advantage. ‘So here’s my plan. I’m not leaving you alone again. When we collect Shadow in the morning I’ll drop you to Ron and Mavis while I sort some stuff out. Then the very best option would be to get you out of Half Moon Bay until this is fully resolved.’
‘And what if he doesn’t survive the night?’
‘He will. So is that a yes?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s been a big night.’ She looked down at her hands in her lap before meeting his eyes. ‘And to be honest, I’m not sure who to believe. I need to sleep on it. I can’t make a decision right now.’
That sounded like a qualified no to him.
‘Sure, we’ll talk again in the morning. I’ll give you a hand to straighten things up.’
‘No.’ She let out her breath as she got to her feet. ‘I’ll tidy up tomorrow. The couch is yours for the night. I’ll get you a doona and pillow.’
Why was she resisting his help? He peered at his watch. ‘Thanks. It’s almost one o’clock. I need to make a couple more phone calls.’
‘Okay. And I need a shower.’
He waited until he could hear the water running before picking up his phone. As he talked he walked, closing doors and drawers, stacking magazines and papers in heaps. Nothing seemed to be broken, just ransacked. He had no way of knowing if anything was missing.
When he finally hung up he tipped his head back, feeling the ache of fatigue in his neck and shoulders. Chances were he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight. None of the locks on the doors or windows was very substantial. And knowing that Ellie was tucked up in bed in the room next door while he tried to fit on a couch that looked to be a metre too short wasn’t going to help. He groaned. Either way it would be a long night.
‘What are you doing? Something else wrong?’ Ellie had come up behind him and as he spun towards her, startled by the sharp edge in her voice, they collided.
She put out a hand to stop him and it landed on his chest. The hem of the dressing-gown she was wearing dragged on the floor. It had to be her father’s. The rolled-back sleeves and the oversized shoulders added to her vulnerability, despite the suspicion in her eyes. It took a supreme effort not to reach out as the touch of her hand burned into his skin.
‘I couldn’t stand the mess even if you could.’
‘Right.’ She sounded hurt. ‘I couldn’t face it. Not yet . . .’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ He was an idiot.
‘I left a towel in the bathroom for you. The doona and pillow are on the couch.’
> ‘Thank you.’
The moment was awkward.
He shook his head. ‘Go. You’re safe. I’m here.’ He turned her around, her shoulders hunched under the soft fabric. Despite her bravado she was fading fast.
‘See you in the morning.’ She didn’t look at him again.
‘Thanks, sleep well,’ he managed.
He hadn’t slept well in ten years. No night went by without the dreams. Most people he knew who’d served in battle zones had similar experiences. The constant watchfulness left you wakeful, alert, and if you did manage to sleep, then it seemed that the subconscious did everything in its power to chase out the demons through nightmares.
The night Nina Wilding was fatally wounded and one of his men died, caught in the middle of a fire-fight, had replayed incessantly in cruel, glorious colour for the last two years. Whenever he closed his eyes to sleep he would relive the moment when Nina and Geoff Trader were reported missing from the compound.
He recalled the frantic search for them, the Bushmaster-armoured vehicles thundering down deserted streets. Then the call came through that they’d been abducted, snatched by opportunistic insurgents. The local Afghani force led them to the fringes of the city and a deserted village, its wells dry, its buildings already battle-scarred.
Nick could taste the raised dust as the spent cartridges spat from guns around him, pitting the already crumbling mudbrick walls of the compound. His ears rang with the reverberations of the yak yak yak of small arms fire and the crack and thump of rocket-propelled grenades. His eyes burned from the explosive return fire of the insurgents despite the protection of his night-vision goggles. The chatter of the rotors of the Apache attack helicopter had drowned it all out but then the panic sent the insurgents into meltdown.
He would forever see in freeze-frame the ghostly moment when Nina and Geoff made a break from their captors, running across the open space towards his attacking position. He would see Nina’s head thrown back as the first bullet struck her side. The next one clipped her helmet and felled her. As she went down, Geoff stooped to grab her. An instant later a hail of bullets jerked Geoff’s body on invisible strings.
Nick could hear his own voice screaming orders as his men laid covering fire for the retrieval of the two bodies. Geoff was already dead, Nina unconscious and bleeding out in the dust. He remembered feeling the slippery heat of her blood pumping between his fingers as he searched desperately for a way to stem the flood before a combat first-aider reached them. Impossible with the fire-fight to get a medivac chopper in, they’d stretchered them out to the closest hospital. Would it have made a difference if they’d got Nina to the state-of-the-art facility on Kandahar airfield? His head said not, but his heart had a different view.
His men had stayed to ensure no insurgents walked away from that battle. It was a bloody night with no mercy, just the bitter emotion of losing a brother in arms. And Nina.
Everyone knew Nina’s little sister was arriving that day and he’d tasked Dave Miller with meeting her. His own day was filled with the repercussions of the engagement. Several of his men were lightly wounded, all were affected by Geoff’s death. The implications of the shooting would have serious consequences once the media got hold of it.
Nick knew it was a truism that a leader was a dealer in hope. Sustaining that hope in the face of death was the most difficult thing he’d ever done. With his own unanswered questions he’d had to make a supreme effort to keep his men together, concentrating on their task, when everyone’s thoughts turned to home and their loved ones. Death focused men like few other things could.
He walked down the short corridor and locked the back door.
The Defence Force psych had assured him his nightmares would reduce with time. So far time wasn’t helping.
He also knew he wasn’t going to sleep much, convinced as he was that the danger hadn’t yet passed.
Not yet.
Ellie struggled to wake up. Someone was shouting. What on earth was going on now? She lay still, holding her breath so she could hear more clearly. Nick’s voice. She slid out of bed cautiously and slipped her dad’s dressing-gown on.
Wearing pants and shoes, with the doona half-covering his naked chest, Nick was tossing and muttering in his sleep. She padded over, reading the scene. A twenty-four-hour news program, with the volume on mute, played on the TV. The desk lamp cast a soft pool of light that barely reached the couch. A magazine lay open on the floor. She’d done the same thing herself many times, trying to stay awake on an all-night story. He was ready for action if he needed to run. As she crossed the room she could see his hair was wet with sweat. He shook his head and his voice rose again.
‘No, no, don’t shoot! Hold your fire. No, get down. They’re locals!’
Tentatively, she reached out to touch his rigid shoulder, the muscles corded in ropes. ‘Nick, wake up. It’s just a dream.’
One strong hand latched on to her wrist and she stopped herself from struggling against its violence. ‘No!’
‘Nick, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.’
His eyes snapped open, wide and watchful, treacle-brown, as he struggled to sit up. There was no recognition in his face. The doona slipped to his waist, leaving his broad chest bare and still heaving with the fear of the dream. He looked at his hand clamped around her wrist and instantly released it. ‘Sorry. I woke you.’ He ran his hands over his face, fatigue so obvious in the lines and shadows that chiselled his jaw and carved circles under his eyes.
She perched on the edge of the couch, aware of his long lean body within touching distance. ‘I thought I’d be the one having nightmares.’
‘Sorry,’ he muttered. His skin glowed in the golden light, his leg warm against her hip. Ellie almost gave in to the urge to reach out to him. For the first time he looked wounded, defenceless, a man fighting his own demons.
‘Go to bed. It’s all right now.’ His tone was gruff.
Her body tensed as his gaze snapped to hers. There was no mistaking the flare of desire in his eyes. She drew her shoulders back, knowing the dressing-gown gaped at her throat. She wanted the comfort of his arms, the reassurance of his touch. She wanted to kiss the uncertainty from his coffee-coloured eyes. Tonight the rules had changed, the balance had shifted. It was just the two of them with the world a million miles away . . .
His eyes closed and he groaned. ‘Don’t be a little temptress, Ellie. It would be a mistake. Don’t.’ When he opened his eyes she could see he’d retreated, drawing the shutters down on his emotions. She gave him grudging respect for his cast-iron control. It smoothed away any sting of rejection.
‘Okay, okay.’ She leant across and feathered a kiss over his shoulder, tasting the salt of his skin. He reached out to cup her cheek and she turned her lips into his palm, feeling him tremble. She revelled in the power she seemed to suddenly have over this complex man. ‘See you in the morning.’
He lay back, and she heard his deep sigh as she closed her door. A tiny smile curved her mouth. For all his reticence, he was no more immune to her than she was to him. It lightened her heart.
She checked her phone and realised she hadn’t played the message that came in earlier. She listened to Alex’s message and threw back the doona, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Nicholas Lawson had been in Afghanistan – why the hell hadn’t he mentioned that?
With the dressing-gown in her hands she sifted through the facts. So he’d been in the military. She’d already decided that. Did that mean Alex was there at the same time as Nina? No, it didn’t. And Alex had already made it plain that he didn’t approve of Lawson, yet he hadn’t turned up Nick’s connection with ICAC. Maybe this was all part of his cover.
She lay back down again. If she barged back out there now and accused him of telling more lies, then she was as good as broadcasting the fact they were still investigating him. That wouldn’t be smart. But if Alex was right?
If Alex was right, then Nick may well know more about Nina’s de
ath than anyone, and if he did, she wanted answers. Ellie drifted off to sleep with the loose threads spinning through her mind. Nick Lawson was connected to Nina’s story. She was sure of it now. But she had to find out how. A perfect bombshell to lob into a conversation.
36
With the sun turning the sullen sky gunmetal grey, Nick finally dozed off again. He woke to the sounds of morning and the smell of coffee. The rain poured down in sheets. Ellie, looking refreshed, was standing beside him wearing cargo pants and a loose button-up shirt, a steaming mug in her hands. He could see the shadow of her breast and waist through the soft fabric. ‘Your usual.’ She placed the mug on the table.
‘Thanks.’
‘Liz says Shadow’s awake and doing fine, but apparently we’re cut off. The heavy rain is causing havoc from Coolangatta right down to Newcastle.’
‘Cut off?’ His brain was still fuzzy with lack of sleep.
‘The Nymboida and Orara rivers have already broken their banks. All that water’s going to arrive here some time this morning. They’ve started evacuating low-lying areas in Garrison, Yamba and Port Newel.’
‘You’re kidding.’ He sat bolt upright. ‘The highway’s still open?’
‘Well, yes, but the access road always goes under first. It’s not uncommon to be isolated for several days. Regional Australia does it a whole lot tougher than people in capital cities realise.’
‘So we’re stuck here?’
‘Seems that way. You’d better make sure your booking’s safe at the pub. They’ll be inundated with people being moved to safety.’
‘Shit. What about the airport?’ He needed to be back in Sydney and he still wanted Ellie out of the Bay.
‘Nope. The nearest commercial airport’s at Ballina and you’d be hard-pressed to get there at the moment. Palmer Island might still be open, but it doesn’t have a charter operator.’
‘Any other good news?’ Nick asked. Ellie was very upbeat after her night from hell and despite being stranded.
Ellie laughed. ‘The phones normally go down as well. The internet is patchy already. I’m using my mobile broadband to connect. Take nothing for granted up here.’
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