‘My private number. You can call me whenever you want. But if you don’t-too bad.’
‘What if I tell people you came here and said all these things?’
‘Go right ahead,’ Grace replied. ‘Do you think anyone’s going to believe you? You’re still going to gaol.’
She got up to go. Narelle sat up again.
‘Aren’t you going to get me some cigarettes? You said you would.’
‘Why don’t you ask your brother again the next time he comes to see you?’ Grace said with a sweet smile and let herself out.
Duncan was in the kitchen with his mother. When Grace appeared, he gestured for her to sit down. He seemed unable to speak.
‘Why did you say we could be in danger?’ Mrs Wong asked.
‘You may not be aware of this but the young woman who was found murdered in Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park some days ago worked at the parlour where Narelle was the manager.’
‘Did Narelle know that?’ Duncan asked. Almost he got to his feet, his face gripped with anger. Quickly, his mother put out a hand to stop him.
‘She was told the night Life’s Pleasures was raided,’ Grace said. ‘We have reason to believe that this young woman, who went by the name of Coco, was trafficked here. Given her fate, it’s very advisable for anyone who knew her to cooperate with the authorities.’
‘Is my daughter in danger?’
‘Not if she cooperates with the police. If you do feel worried in any way, this is a number you can ring. They will know Narelle’s name and they will be able to help you.’
Mrs Wong looked at the card and began to cry.
‘Was she involved in this trafficking?’ she asked.
‘No, we have no evidence of that. But her parlour was the last place where this young woman worked.’
‘She didn’t tell us any of this. I can’t talk about it.’
Mrs Wong got up and walked out of the room, tears running down her face.
‘Did Narelle know?’ Duncan asked.
‘She says she didn’t.’
‘Is there anything else she hasn’t told us?’
‘At this stage, I don’t know,’ Grace said. ‘I do have some questions for you if you can answer them. You went and picked her up at Parramatta Police Station. Didn’t she want to go back to her flat?’
‘She said she wasn’t working at that place any more and she wanted to come home. That was it. I could mind my own business after that. You should have seen her at the police station. She was standing there in these clothes. She looked like a-It’s a part to her, you know? Nothing else.’
‘Do you and your wife live here, Duncan?’
‘No, we’ve got a house at Campbelltown.’
‘One last question. Are any members of your family dual citizens?’
‘All of us, my wife included and she’s Australian. Mum and Dad are from Hong Kong. He goes back there on business a couple of times a year.’
‘When’s he coming back?’
‘Tomorrow. He’s probably the best person to talk to Narelle.’
‘The number I gave you,’ Grace said. ‘If you think of anything, if you’re worried about anything, it doesn’t matter how trivial, ring it and ask for me by my first name.’
‘There’s something going on here. Narelle’s putting us all in danger, isn’t she?’
‘No, this is just a precaution. It’s also imperative that you keep this information within this house. This is an ongoing inquiry and confidentiality is very important.’
‘More important than we are? Yeah, I bet it is. I’ll see you out.’
Grace’s next port of call was a service station on the Hume Highway. In southwest Sydney, ever since the opening of the M5 motorway had diverted the traffic, certain parts of the highway’s surrounds had taken on a run-down look. Worn buildings and struggling businesses lined the road that had once been the main corridor for southern-bound traffic out of the city. Now the traffic had a local feeclass="underline" intermittent cars and aging trucks farting black smoke. The grass on the nature strips was worn thin with occasional trees struggling through the drought. At least it was quieter.
Next to the service station was a motel offering cut-price accommodation. Grace parked her car out of the way and went into the motel. The receptionist directed her to a room just down the hallway. Borghini and Clive were waiting for her inside. When she walked in, Borghini got to his feet and held out his hand to shake.
‘Well done,’ he said. ‘You were impressive.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
Clive remained seated; he was staring at her with a distant, almost absent-minded look.
‘Why did you tell that girl’s family they might be in danger?’
‘Because they may well be and they have a right to know. They’re not stupid. They could put it together themselves.’
‘You were in role. You’re a blackmailer who doesn’t care who lives or dies so long as you get what you want. You’re not supposed to be concerned for anyone’s welfare.’
‘In that case,’ Grace replied, ‘that’s how I’m covering my tracks. I’m making myself appear to be something I’m not.’
‘You may see it that way. Our targets may not. It’s not just their safety. It’s yours.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Borghini watching them intently.
‘Since this is your operation,’ he asked, ‘are these people under guard?’
‘Twenty-four-seven,’ Clive replied. ‘As Grace is well aware.’
‘Then they’re not mushrooms any more, are they?’ Borghini came back.
Clive gave Borghini a needle-like glance. Probably that comment would go in his notes.
‘Apart from that,’ he said to Grace, ‘you did it well. There was some valuable information there, we have a hook to the boyfriend. There’s a long afternoon ahead. Better eat something.’
There was food waiting on the table. She sat down, suddenly ravenously hungry and needing to shake her character out of her head. Clive sat down as well but didn’t eat. It was unusual for him to praise anyone; the effect was almost as disturbing as his needling.
‘Here’s some information for you to read over before we go visiting,’ Borghini said.
He handed her a brief report on the guard and the driver who had been rostered on when Jirawan had supposedly escaped. Both had police records. The guard, Sophie Jovanov, and her husband had been involved in an insurance scam six years ago, resulting in him serving an eighteen-month gaol term while she had received a good behaviour bond. The driver, Arleen McKenzie, was a former ice addict with a record for theft and possession and who had once been convicted of malicious bodily harm.
‘Who hired them to work at Villawood?’ Grace asked.
‘We’re checking. Everything there is outsourced, including the transport. Their employer was a firm called Australian Secure Transport,’ Borghini said. ‘They signed their statements and got their marching orders at the same time.’
‘We’ve asked for their financial records but it’s hard to believe whoever is behind this would leave any obvious footprint,’ Clive said. ‘Their backgrounds mean they’ll have limited credibility regardless of what they say.’
‘Are you sure you’re ready for another interview this afternoon?’ Borghini asked Grace. ‘Is your head in the right place?’
‘Yeah, I can deal with it.’
She had been rolling her shoulders to relax some tension. There was too little time between these interviews. But the timeline Clive had put in place, the forty-eight hours she had given Narelle, left them with no choice. She glanced at him; he was staring at her, that same distant look on his face. It was disturbing enough for her to look away.
‘Now you’ve both finished eating, here’s something else for you to look at,’ Clive said. ‘Our IT people broke into Kidd’s computer. He liked to take pictures of himself with the children from the orphanage. Not a smart thing to do for a man with his sexual tastes.’
Grace looked through the photographs quickly and handed them to Borghini. Once she would have been able to deal with this, her mind would have been focused on tracking down the people responsible. Now she could barely look at these pictures. The thought of the children brought her too close to her daughter. There were things she couldn’t bear to have in her mind.