‘The Australian talks about Stuart Morrissey,’ Grace said. ‘They say he had a number of business connections with Natalie Edwards. Is he involved in this?’
‘He had a deal going with Edwards and Beck. The three of them were meeting to sign a contract on the night of the murders. He didn’t turn up. I’m waiting to find out why.’
‘Beck’s just an unidentified body in these reports. No one’s even speculated about him. They’re all more interested in the Ice Cream Man.’
Harrigan glanced at his watch.
‘I have to go. What are you going to do today?’
‘What am I going to do?’ Suddenly, she couldn’t hide her disappointment. ‘I think I’ll go over to Bondi, go for a swim. I was going to cook dinner for us tonight. Is that still going to happen?’
Grace was a very good cook. It relaxed her, she said, to put food together at the end of a working day. The kitchen in her tiny flat, small as it was, was packed with cooking utensils and foodstuffs whose existence had previously been unknown to him. She did this kind of thing, took care with how they ate and drank. With her, he had dressed himself up and gone to restaurants he would otherwise never have looked inside, found himself at films, cabaret nights and concerts. He thought she was trying to civilise him. He enjoyed this, it relaxed him. Whether it was having the intended effect was another question. On the rare nights when his time was his own, he still went to the boxing. When the fighting was good, he came home feeling clean.
‘I’ll be there, if that’s what you want.’
‘Then I’ll see you.’
He tried to take her in his arms but she shrugged away from him. He went after her anyway and held on to her. They leaned against each other.
‘You don’t have to put distance between us,’ he said.
‘You don’t have time for us. You have to see the commissioner. That’s the way it always is.’
‘Just for now. You don’t have to look so sad.’
‘For now and always. You have to go. I’ll see you tonight,’ she said, this time slipping away and succeeding in putting air between them.
I’ll be there. He had said it to her, he had said it the commissioner. Always, people demanded things from him.
At his father’s funeral, Jim Harrigan’s mates had agreed there was something to be said for going out the way old Jimbo had. Propped up against the bar of the William Wallace with a half-drunk schooner of Tooheys New in front of him. As usual, Harrigan the son had different ambitions. He had no wish to live out his old age in an empty house with only a bottle of whisky for company or to be like the other men he saw in pubs, watching Fox Sports and eating alone. He had hoped Grace might be persuaded to move in one day. So far, things could not have gone worse.
Always careful with his appearance, Harrigan dressed smart casual, eschewing a tie. There had to be some benefit to supposedly being on leave. In the clear sunlight, he drove to Victoria Road and joined the city-bound traffic. Is this what I want? He had always avoided giving much time to this question. This morning it forced its way into his mind. Vehicles flowed slowly across the Anzac Bridge; traffic fumes shimmered against the concrete bulwarks lining the roadway. Through the bridge’s steel web, the sky rolled above him in a blue curve.
He felt a sense of revulsion, he couldn’t help it. Everything in him wanted to stop his car, to get out and leave it where it was; to start to walk and to keep walking; to disappear into the fabric of the city as if he had never existed, to sleep in the open with the derelicts where no one knew him. It was an instant as powerful as it was brief. He kept driving.
7
In the commissioner’s office, four men were waiting for him. Rumpled in a suit and tie, the minister had the same shell-shocked look as yesterday. He fidgeted with sharp and jerky movements, causing Harrigan to think of the walking wounded. Why don’t you scream at the walls? Howl? His adviser sat with him, a nondescript man who listened intently and didn’t say a word.
Opposite them was the commissioner, his thoughts impenetrable as always, his agenda beyond anyone’s surmise. An older man with an unreliable temper, he had survived the countless scandals that had plagued the force over the last thirty-five years to reach this pinnacle. Noted for being without much mercy, he had a long memory for perceived insults and past injuries, real or imaginary. Harrigan looked at his unhealthy face, his balding hair, and wondered if he would look like this when he was sixty.
The fourth man was Marvin Tooth. Unlike the others, Marvin smiled at Harrigan when he walked into the room. It was the assassin’s smile. At the sight of it, the skin between Harrigan’s shoulderblades began to itch. The media were inclined to present Marvin as a friendly grandfather, silver-haired and avuncular. Godfather would have been the more accurate description. There was nothing coy about the Tooth’s ambitions. Barring earthquake, floods or acts of God, he would be sitting in the commissioner’s chair almost as soon as it was vacated. It was fair to say he had never wanted anything else so much.
‘Commander Harrigan,’ Edwards said, getting to his feet and extending his hand. ‘I understand you’re on leave. I didn’t realise that. Thank you for coming in like this.’
‘It’s not a problem, Minister. Thank you for taking the trouble, given what happened yesterday.’
‘This is life and death to me now. I will do everything I possibly can to find out who is responsible.’
‘You can be assured we will put every resource we have into this, Minister,’ the commissioner said, unsmiling. ‘In case you’re wondering why Marvin is here, Paul, he’ll be managing the budget for this investigation. You’ll remain the ultimate arbiter of operational decisions, though presumably you’ll delegate that authority to your 2IC while you’re on leave. If any negotiation proves necessary, I’m sure you can work it out.’
The commissioner at work, Harrigan thought. Divide the minions while protecting your backside at the same time. The golden rules for corporate success.
‘Shall we start?’ Marvin said.
‘Before we do, where’s Inspector Gabriel? I asked for him to be here,’ Edwards said.
‘He’s busy at the moment, Minister,’ Marvin replied. ‘I’m not convinced he should continue as the operational officer in charge of this job. That’s something I wanted us to discuss. I have a very well-qualified officer I can recommend.’
‘As far as I could tell, he did a good job yesterday. Why are you replacing him?’
‘We’re not.’ Harrigan shut down the possibility ruthlessly. ‘Personnel is my responsibility, Marvin. You don’t need to concern yourself with it. For your information, I have complete confidence in Trevor.’
‘Then get him. I want him here,’ Edwards said.
They sat in awkward silence while Chloe located Trevor Gabriel. Harrigan contemplated Marvin’s attempted removal of both himself and Trevor, all before the morning tea break. Why waste time? Shortly afterwards, Trevor arrived.
‘Sorry about this. No one told me I was supposed to be up here.’
‘You’re here now,’ the commissioner replied with an acidic glance in Marvin’s direction.
‘Let’s get on with the reason why I was visiting Nattie yesterday,’ Edwards said impatiently. ‘I understand you received your own copy of this document this morning but there’s no point in wasting these. You can thank my staff for working most of the night to get them ready for you.’
Edwards’ adviser handed to each of those present a high-quality copy of a thick dossier. The top of each page was marked with a series of file references, then the name Beck, Jerome. Harrigan leafed through detailed notes, surveillance photographs, maps tracking the subject’s movements, emails, lists of associates, known aliases. Each page was stamped Top Secret.