He was looking over to where Griffin was still kneeling on the ground, the police around him. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he stood up. As he was led away, he didn’t once glance towards Sara on the ground.
‘What we have to do now,’ Clive said, ‘is find his records and his money.’
‘Check in the roof cavity at Duffys Forest. There’s a manhole in the linen cupboard,’ Harrigan said, watching Clive with barely controlled anger.
‘How do you know that?’
‘I put them there.’
‘That building’s due to go up in smoke. It could be burning by now,’ Grace said.
‘We moved in and secured it as soon as you left.’
‘You were there,’ she said. ‘You let Griffin drive away with me. Why didn’t you intervene at the house? I gave the call.’
‘The job wasn’t finished. He might have led us to those records, which we’re now told are still in the house.’
‘I gave the call for you to get me out. When we left, I had no wire. You couldn’t hear me, you couldn’t know what was going on. We were flying blind.’
‘We knew he was going to take you somewhere else. We needed to know where. I told you, you should have trusted us. We were there, we’re here now, and we’ve got you out. We weren’t going to let you die. I’ll be in touch about a debrief.’
As he turned away, he stopped to look at Harrigan. ‘Your partner’s a very brave woman.’
‘I could have told you that years ago.’
‘Take my gun,’ Grace said. ‘I don’t want it. It’s needed for ballistics anyway.’
Clive took the firearm and walked away.
‘He didn’t keep his side of the bargain,’ Grace said. ‘He left me there just in case I gave him something more. I’ll never trust him again.’
A uniformed officer walked up to them carrying two pairs of shoes.
‘The DS sent these over. These are yours, miss. And for you, boss-a pair of thongs. Sorry. That’s all we’ve got.’
‘They’ll be fine. Thanks.’
With some relief, they put the shoes on.
‘Do we have to stay?’ Grace said. ‘Can we go? We shouldn’t be needed tonight. I want to see Ellie.’
‘They might need to photograph your neck,’ Harrigan replied. ‘I’ll ask. We won’t be able to take our car, but there may be someone here who can give us a lift.’
They turned to each other. She gave an exhausted half-smile and he put his arms around her. They hugged, hard and long. Harrigan looked over her shoulder and saw Clive watching them. Then the spymaster turned away into the night.
‘Come on,’ he said, and they walked away. They walked past the car where Griffin sat, but he was staring ahead. If he saw them, their existence didn’t seem to register. His face was completely empty, as if there was nothing in him, no thought, no emotion.
‘He’s got your picture,’ Grace said. ‘The one you took of me when Ellie was born. It’s in his pocket.’
‘Does he now?’
Harrigan walked away and found Borghini. A little later, Borghini and two uniformed officers went over to the car.
‘Could you just step out, Mr Griffin? Just for a moment, thanks. We need to check your pockets.’
Griffin did. After a short search, one of the uniformed officers handed Borghini a photograph. He nodded, walked back to Harrigan, who had returned to Grace, and handed it to him.
‘There you go,’ he said, and walked away.
Much later, a police car took them to Harrigan’s older sister’s house where Ellie was sleeping. They had called Ronnie earlier and she was waiting for them.
‘She took some settling down but she’s asleep now. I told her Mummy and Daddy would be here soon. She seemed okay with that. So, big little brother,’ the diminutive woman said, giving Harrigan a sharp-eyed glance, ‘what have you been up to?’
‘Later,’ he said. ‘We just want to go home.’
Grace picked Ellie up from the bed. The little girl rubbed her sleepy eyes and put her arms around her mother’s neck.
‘Hello, chicken. Mummy and Daddy are here. We’re going home. How’s that?’
I have you back, Harrigan thought. Safe at last.
25
Borghini asked Grace and Harrigan if they wanted to watch when his people interviewed Griffin. The interview they attended was one of a series. Grace went as a private individual, not as an official representative; Orion’s protocols excluded her from any questioning they would do. She went not out of curiosity but to try to diminish his ghost in her own mind, to convince herself that he was where he could do them no harm.
In all, a small group of about five people, including an official observer from Orion, were watching when Griffin was brought into the interview room with its one-way glass wall. Borghini was also there, as an observer. He had passed this interview over to a trained interviewer from headquarters and a profiler. Griffin was accompanied by his lawyer, a well-known, highly skilled and expensive practitioner. Harrigan, remembering Griffin’s skill as a barrister, wondered what directions he had given his counsel. He was dressed in prison overalls and sat with his arms folded, seemingly detached from the situation. His business as a criminal banker was still under investigation by Orion and there was only limited information available on that side of his activities. Six bodies had been found at the Turramurra house. Two were at least ten years old. Some were men, some women.
‘My client wishes to advise you that he will be conducting this interview and his defence under the name of Joel Griffin,’ Griffin’s lawyer said.
The statement was made at the start of every interview.
The police interviewer began the process. ‘We do have irrefutable DNA evidence that your client was born Craig Wells, son of Frank and Janice Wells.’
‘Be that as it may, it’s been many years since he adopted the name Joel Griffin. That’s what he calls himself now.’
‘All right, Joel. Just for context, let’s go over the chronology of your life after your mother was killed. You left the country as Joel Griffin almost immediately and went to Asia with Sara McLeod and her parents. During your time in Asia you worked in the McLeods’ import-export business. After several years, you went with Sara McLeod to Britain. You didn’t return to Australia until the mid-1990s. Is that correct?’
‘Joel has already acknowledged he spent that time out of the country,’ the lawyer said.
‘During that time in Britain you attended the University of London where you completed a law degree. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, my client admits to that.’
‘The murders we’re investigating began to occur once you returned to Australia.’
‘My client denies any knowledge of those murders.’
‘Our investigations have found six bodies in the surgery at Turramurra previously owned by a Dr Amelie Santos. We believe her to be your natural grandmother. Is that correct?’
The lawyer glanced at his client.
‘The evidence has established that so I think we can move on,’ he said when there was no acknowledgement from Griffin.
‘With Sara McLeod, you owned that building as trustees of the Shillingworth Trust, under the names of Nadine Patterson and David Tate.’
‘Joel has made no admission on that.’
‘We have a positive identification of Sara McLeod as Nadine Patterson, and we have in our possession passports in those names showing photographs of Sara McLeod and your client.’
‘Joel still wishes to make no admissions on that subject.’
‘We’ve established the identities of the victims. Placing them in order of their deaths so far as we can tell, they are: Jennifer Shillingworth, Stan Wells, Ian Blackmore, Elliot Griffin, father of the actual Joel Griffin, Kylie Sutcliffe and Nadifa Hasan Ibrahim. Can your client confirm that for us?’
‘My client has no information to give on that subject. He’s made that very clear. He denies any part in their murders.’