‘Any demands, ransoms? Any contact since? You sure it wasn’t their dad?’
‘No! Nothing! He’s helping out with the SES!’
‘Okay, okay. Don’t bite my head off. Where’s Felicity?’
‘At school. I’m heading there as well. She can’t get hold of Dan.’
‘Right. I’ve just pulled up outside Ron’s house. I’ll drive you.’
‘Outside? Here?’
‘Yes.’
The phone went dead and she wiped a trail of tears from her cheeks. The front door banged open and Nick strode into the room, filling the space with angry energy. Ron and Mavis came from the other direction. It took Ellie a couple of minutes to fill them in as well. She was impatient to go. Felicity needed her.
As she clicked the seatbelt into place she looked at Nick. ‘Alex warned me about this. Damn him for always being right.’
Nick scowled. ‘What? When?’
‘Alex warned me that they might target other people, not just me. The night he met O’Sullivan for social drinks. You were there too, weren’t you?’
‘Did he now? Did he indeed?’ He drove with one hand, thumbing through his mobile. Numb, Ellie watched the rain pelting down, the gutters overflowing with water. It felt as though even Half Moon Bay was weeping for the twins.
‘Hi, it’s me. We’ve got a problem. They may have snatched two kids. Yeah, I know, but that’s not the point. I’ll give you the details.’ He snapped his fingers to get Ellie’s attention. ‘Their names are?’
‘Sarah and Michael Samson.’
He repeated the names into the phone. ‘Hang on. I’ll put Ellie Wilding on. Yes, I know, but we got them into this mess, so we’ll be getting them out.’ He thrust the phone at Ellie, who took it tentatively. ‘Give him a description. He’s my boss.’
‘Hi. They’re blond twins. Sarah’s missing a bottom front tooth. They’re both suntanned, on the skinny side, all knees and elbows. The school uniform is a blue polo shirt and grey shorts. And they have blue school backpacks.’ Ellie thought for anything else distinctive. Shoes! She’d seen discarded sneakers at the front door. ‘And training shoes, white ones with pink laces for Sarah. Mikey’s were plain grey.’ She ran out of words and Nick took the phone. They were a few minutes away from the school.
‘Got all that?’ Nick asked his boss. ‘Okay, I’ll be in touch.’ He closed the phone. ‘They’re on high alert. I guess we know they can’t have got too far.’
‘Unless they have a boat,’ she replied.
‘Shit. A trawler?’
‘Don’t even go there.’ Ellie turned her head away, her heart thumping in her chest.
‘They’ll start to backtrack through the phone taps and surveillance tapes to see what they can find. I’ll drop you off at the school.’
‘No way.’ She glared at him. ‘I’ll see Felicity, then I’m coming with you. You owe me the truth.’
‘Okay, but just do what I tell you. No arguments. You could jeopardise them by taking off on one of your tangents. You understand?’
‘I understand we’re sitting here arguing and two beautiful children are in danger. Is that good enough?’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘You’re right. Let’s go.’
Three hours later, they’d still heard nothing. A Child Abduction Alert had been initiated immediately by the police, but still there were no confirmed sightings. Felicity, with a sodden hanky wrapped in her fist, huddled in a chair beside the principal’s desk. She was shaking despite the blanket draped around her shoulders. Several half-drunk cups of coffee were leaving rings on the polished timber, a tray of sandwiches curled at the edges. Through the glass panel in the door Ellie could see Nick prowling up and down the corridor with his phone glued to his ear. She knew words were inadequate but she had to try.
‘Flick, we’ll find them. Someone will have seen something. Everyone’s out searching now. They’re probably safe and sound with someone right now and with the floods they can’t get them back to you.’
‘Ellie, I’m terrified. I want Dan here, but he’s going to say it’s my fault and he’s right. Why did I think there’d be no repercussions? Nothing’s safe in this world. Nothing . . .’ She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking on the chair, tears flooding down her cheeks again. Ellie crouched in front of her.
‘Felicity, look at me. This isn’t your fault and there’s no way Dan will blame you for it. He’ll want to kill whoever’s done it, but it’s not your fault. You need to stay positive, stay focused. We’ll get them back.’
A helicopter came in low over the school and landed on the oval, drowning out Ellie’s words. Both women raised hopeful eyes to the window, but the chopper was out of sight.
Nick opened the door. ‘Ellie, you got a moment?’ He jerked his head towards the corridor and she followed him outside. She couldn’t read his expression.
‘What’s up?’
‘Dan’s here. I sent the chopper to fly him back.’
‘Oh, Nick . . .’ Ellie’s eyes burnt. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s the least I can do.’
Urgent footsteps echoed in the hallway. A tall rangy man in SES overalls and waterproofs, his boots thumping on the floor, moved towards them.
‘Ellie – where is she?’ The normally laconic fisherman wasn’t smiling. Nor was he stopping for idle chit chat.
‘In there.’ Ellie yanked the door open.
‘Dan?’ Felicity tried to stand, the blanket catching on the chair, and she stumbled.
‘Flick, oh baby, baby. I’m sorry.’ Dan hauled his wife into his arms, crushing her against his chest, cradling her head to his shoulder. Ellie turned away and closed the door. The sight of her friends sobbing against each other made her own tears run. It wasn’t fair. Two good people, a family torn apart. Again.
‘Get the bastards.’ She turned her anger on Nick. ‘Whatever it takes. Whatever we have to do.’
‘We’re working on it.’ He tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, his hand lingering an instant. It made her shiver. ‘We’ll find them.’ His phone rang. ‘Lawson.’ He listened for a minute. ‘Okay. I’ll make some inquiries here. Call you back in ten.’ He tapped the phone on his hand.
‘So?’
‘So, there’s nothing on any surveillance tapes. CCTV hasn’t made it to the Bay. There’s only one small lead. On a phone tap a couple of hours ago there was mention of “locking the angels in the playpen”. The conversation was between Jason O’Sullivan and an unknown male who sounds young and scared. It’s all we’ve got. If the kids are the angels, then where the hell’s the playpen?’
Ellie gasped. Where had she heard that term recently?
37
Alex knew his shirt stank of stale sweat but he didn’t dare use his credit cards, and he was almost out of cash. Food and shelter was more important than clothes right now. The pub in the middle of The Rocks had a steady trickle of city workers and tourists through the door. It also had free wi-fi and cheap lunches. His spare laptop had almost finished charging. A half-drunk beer and the remains of a steak and kidney pie filled the rest of his table.
He pressed his fingers into the soft spot at the base of his skull. He’d been on the run since he slipped out the window and over his neighbour’s fence in the clothes he was standing in. From there he’d gone straight to the office and emailed all his files to an online storage facility, then erased the contents from his hard drive. If they wanted information, they were going to have to work for it. Several other staff members on the night shift saw him and asked after Teisha. He could only shrug and look concerned. No pretence was required. God knows what was happening to her. He retrieved his small laptop from the bottom drawer, along with a note pad and pen, then found a plastic bag in the tearoom. He headed downstairs, feeling disoriented.
The security guy on the front desk had stopped him as he left. ‘Alex, did that guy catch up with you?’
‘What guy?’ he asked, heat flooding his body.
‘
Middle-aged, grey hair . . .’ The guard consulted a piece of scrap paper. ‘Lachlan Meriden. Said you used to work for him.’
‘Is that right. What time was this?’
‘Five-thirty. Said he’d call you at home.’
‘Must have missed me, but thanks for letting me know.’
‘No worries. Happy to help.’
‘Yeah, cheers. See you tomorrow.’ Alex waved as he left. That, he knew, wasn’t going to happen. His life as a respected journalist was finished.
He’d spent the night in a youth hostel, keeping to himself. As the rays of the rising sun touched the flagpole on the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge he’d let himself out the front door and started walking. Eventually he ended up here, at The Rocks.
He squinted at the computer screen again. It was all there. He just needed to . . .
The front door of the pub opened with a bang and he jerked in his seat. A group of what looked like English football fans crowded in – shaved heads, coloured jerseys and a defiant showing of tatts. Alex shoved his phone in his pocket, getting ready to run, but they flooded around the tables, ignoring the other customers, and made their way to the rear where several giant screens were showing pay-TV sport from Europe.
Alex relaxed and scratched his wrist, feeling the raised welts of eczema. His nerves couldn’t be any more frayed. Time to finish it. He’d spent the morning typing up an account of the whole sorry saga from the first conversation with Nina almost three years ago to last night’s break-in. He skimmed through it again, pausing to read paragraphs as he went.
Nina Wilding received information that one of the civilian contractors was targeting Australian Armed Forces personnel as they reached the end of their tours of duty in Afghanistan. She identified the contractor as Beyond Borders Strikeforce. BBS were offering huge financial incentives for ex-servicemen to sign up for a twelve-month contract.
Ms Wilding identified local connections between the Daulat clan and BBS. Heroin sourced from the Daulats’ tribal homeland in Afghanistan was exported, concealed in military equipment. It was routed via Hong Kong to Sydney, Australia. Ms Wilding identified the Hong Kong trader as a triad under the control of Phil Ah Tak who also has a sophisticated money-laundering operation centred on his extensive casino holdings in Asia.
And, Alex knew, the ever-congenial Phil Ah Tak had an army of enforcers who ensured his business empire had become the dominant player in Hong Kong. Alex didn’t bother putting that in the report. ASIO, ASIS, MI6 and no doubt the Yanks were all aware of Mr Ah Tak.
He carried on reading over his report.
The night Nina Wilding was shot I believe she was rendezvousing with members of BBS who were prepared to name the head of the Australian connection. I’m not in a position to know what happened that night. I believe, however, Nicholas Lawson can provide those details. My suspicions are that the Australian Defence Force was engaged in its own investigation and this precipitated a fire-fight with Taliban insurgents who I believe were tipped off by BBS, resulting in the death of Ms Wilding and Geoff Trader, an Australian serviceman with the Engineers Corp. I know there has been a deliberate and extensive cover-up of this incident. I also know there has been a cover-up of the associated money-laundering operation involving several regional councils in Australia. I was given a bribe two years ago to stop investigating that corruption but my information is still relevant today.
He puffed out his cheeks. It sounded grubby and pathetic now it was written down. He’d been party to the cover-up of a friend’s cold-blooded murder. He didn’t doubt Nina had been taken out because she was too close. He now firmly believed Teisha was nothing more than a pawn who’d been sent to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t go looking again.
Lachlan Meriden was the Australian contact. He knew it with complete certainty, but as yet he lacked the evidence. Was that proof in Nina’s computer? He might never find out now. It was up to Ellie. And his contacts in the police and Customs, plus anyone else they chose to co-opt into the investigation. He’d named names, places and bank accounts in his exposé. He was paying the price for his Judas money although absolution may well be a long time coming.
He tipped his chair back on two legs. The waitress cleared his table. ‘You want another one?’ she asked, pointing at the now flat beer.
‘No, thanks. I’m done.’ He’d outstayed his welcome. He copied the file to a memory stick and closed the laptop. Time to move again. He packed his computer into the plastic bag and finished the warm beer. Who knew when he’d have another one?
Stopping for a moment outside the pub, he adjusted his eyes to the bright light. The wind howling up the slope from Sydney Harbour didn’t stop for his thin shirt. He’d need to find a coat soon. Fear and endorphins had kept him warm last night. His $147 wasn’t going to stretch much further. As he ambled up the street he kept an erratic pace. Didn’t look like anyone was following him.
Passing a newsagency, Alex did a double-take. The headline NORTHERN NSW UNDERWATER screamed from above an aerial shot of Yamba marooned in muddy waters. ‘Bloody hell,’ he swore. Had Ellie even received his email?
Resigned, he moved on. He’d done the best he could. The only way to keep her safe was to go to the authorities. When he stole Nina’s laptop from Half Moon Bay he knew there was a risk. At the time it seemed justifiable and prudent. He felt sanctimonious, then remembered he’d tried to access the information on it. The security codes defeated him. Then, when more money turned up in his account, he figured he needed a back-up plan. He was sure Ellie had forgotten the post office box the three of them shared. It had been Nina’s idea one drunken evening at a student party when conspiracy theories abounded. He was pretty sure she was the only one who’d used it, but the three of them were joint signatories ‘just in case fate comes calling’. Stashing Nina’s computer in it was his insurance policy for that day.
Stopped at traffic lights, he looked up at the glass and steel towers around him. Funny how he’d always imagined he’d be a grizzled journalist when and if that day came, with a long, distinguished career behind him and a comfortable retirement ahead of him. The sting in Kandahar would be an anecdote that he could deny being involved in with a wink and a tap to the side of his nose. A story that slipped into journalism folklore – How Nina Wilding died setting up a two-million-dollar drug deal.
He sighed. Instead here he was feeling sick and sad, on the run from a madman. He didn’t doubt Teisha was dead and she didn’t deserve that. With her finger as proof he knew it wouldn’t have been clean. Fucking Meriden would find it was a whole lot harder to threaten a man who’d already lost everything.
The lights changed and he stepped out. Keep moving. He was meeting a contact in Customs at three-thirty at Rossini’s to hand over everything he knew. He breathed in the tang of salt in the air and the heavy undertone of diesel mixed with the scent of the crowd. Women dressed in casual chic in a cloud of Chanel, men in suits and aftershave, tourists with sunscreen, and sweet ice-cream dripping from sticky fingers. A train rattled into Circular Quay, the giant steel framework of the station reverberating. Behind him the rumble of traffic crossing Sydney Harbour Bridge gave a bass note to the buskers singing Aussie bush ballads.
Alive and free, for now. He walked past a didgeridoo player and pulled the loose change from his pocket. A one-dollar coin spun for an instant as it landed on the man’s blanket, then fell flat. It felt like an analogy for the last two days. Tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be.
38
Ellie clutched Nick’s arm, a wave of relief rushing through her. ‘Old Mrs Bell’s house. It’s the playpen! Since they put that ugly fence up, the local teenagers started calling it that. There’ve been a couple of rave parties out there on the weekends.’
Nick’s chin lifted. ‘That would make sense.’
‘Did they say the kids were okay?’
Nicholas shook his head, but it wasn’t a yes or a no. ‘Sarah and Mikey know you, don’t they?’
&nbs
p; She nodded.
‘Right, come with me.’ He took off towards the exit.
‘Wait! We need to give Felicity and Dan hope.’
‘It may be a false lead.’
‘Anything’s better than nothing.’
‘No, it’s not. You think that angry bloke in there will sit quietly and wait for us to do something?’
‘No. He’d want to come too.’
‘And he can’t. His wife needs him.’
Ellie glanced through the door. Her friends were sitting side by side now, talking, touching, crying. They had each other. Nick was right.
Ellie cracked the door. ‘Guys, sorry to interrupt.’ Both heads swung up. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so, okay?’
‘Yeah.’ Dan clutched Felicity’s hand.
‘See you.’ She closed the door and swallowed, shutting her eyes against the unthinkable, and hurried after Nick. He was already halfway to the car, snapping orders into his phone. They didn’t speak on the way out of town until he broke the silence.
‘I was out there this morning after we’d been to the vet’s. I should have gone and looked.’ His voice was low and Ellie had to strain to hear his words. ‘I’ll never forgive myself if . . .’
‘No!’ Ellie shook her head. ‘You can’t blame yourself for this. Neither one of us saw this coming. When Alex warned me, I just thought he was being melodramatic. I don’t know what I’ll say to Felicity if we don’t find them . . . safe.’
Nick glanced at her with a shake of his head. ‘You’re a whole lot tougher than you look. The last twenty-four hours have been hell for you and yet you keep on fighting back.’
The approval in his words and eyes sparked a tiny flame that warmed the frozen core of dread sitting heavy in her heart. But it all meant nothing if Sarah and Mikey were harmed. ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I’m not amazing or tough. Our actions have got them into this. It’s up to us to get them out.’ She stared out the window towards Mrs Bell’s land as they turned down the road. From the front the block looked deserted. The only things moving were the leaves on the trees, stirred by the wind whipping in off the sullen ocean. Rain sheeted down from the heavy clouds to the west.
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