‘Do you know a long-stay car park not far from Redfern station called Prestige Car Parking?’ Grace asked.
‘Yeah, I know that.’
‘Get me there then, as soon as you can.’
They were away, jerking in and out of the traffic. Grace called Harrigan again but there was still no answer. Were the phones out? Was he preoccupied? Or was he some kind of a casualty?
As they approached the city, the taxi driver avoided the area near police headquarters. The traffic was heavy. Grace saw fire engines racing through the cross streets but put any speculation of what might have happened out of her thoughts. One step at a time, she told herself, her mind on Toby.
23
Leaving Millennium, the traffic was bad. Harrigan barely made it to police headquarters in time for his meeting. When he walked into the commissioner’s office, he found the commissioner, Marvin and Trevor sitting in a strained silence, not looking at each other. His arrival punctured the tension noticeably. It was a relief to know the minister had also not yet arrived. He and Marvin looked at each other but neither spoke.
‘Paul. Good afternoon,’ the commissioner said. ‘I understand you’ve had no calls.’
‘No, no one’s contacted me.’
‘I want you to know I’ve authorised all resources in the search for Toby. We’ll do everything we can to find your son.’
It was a rare expression of concern from the commissioner.
‘Thank you,’ Harrigan replied.
‘Information for you, boss,’ Trevor said, passing over a photograph. ‘We found it on page 228 of the dossier. Recognise him? We’ve put a copy up on the board and added a few bruises just for you.’
‘That’s the man who wanted to rearrange my face. Who is he?’
‘Andreas du Plessis. Born in Johannesburg thirty-nine years ago. Ex-South African army. He worked for their special forces under apartheid. The South African government’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission want to talk to him about the torture and death of detainees in his custody but so far they haven’t been able to get hold of him. He’s been on the books of a private military services company called Griffin Enterprises for a number of years. They provide security for corporations operating in dangerous environments such as theatres of war. He’s had a long association with Beck. We’ve got a face and now a name. We’ll get him.’
Before anyone could speak, Chloe knocked on the door.
‘The minister rang to say he’ll be at the front entrance in about five minutes. Who do you want to escort him up?’
‘Harrigan will want to do that,’ Marvin said.
‘Yeah, I’ll go,’ Harrigan replied. ‘Why is he coming in that way? He’d have been safer coming in through the car park.’
‘Marvin made the arrangements for today’s meeting,’ the commissioner said.
‘I don’t see how anyone can be in danger coming in through our front door,’ Marvin replied heatedly. ‘Why don’t you take your inspector with you as well, Harrigan? Bolster the party.’
‘Jesus,’ Trevor said softly.
‘This is a business meeting, Marvin. Behave yourself,’ the commissioner snapped.
Harrigan was too tense to be troubled by Marvin’s ego. ‘There’s no point in the two of us going down. I’ll go and meet him.’
He walked out. He’d just got out of the lift on the ground floor and was walking through to the foyer when he heard high heels clattering behind him.
‘Commander,’ a woman called. ‘I heard you were here. Then Chloe said you’d gone down in the lift. Could you wait, please? I have to get your signature.’
Harrigan turned to see Mandy, a tiny, black-haired spark of a woman from finance whose height was increased in inches by her shoes. She ran towards him dressed in a tight leather skirt and bright gold shirt. He held up his hands to protect himself.
‘Mandy, I don’t have the time. I have to meet a government minister. I’ll ring you when I’m finished.’
He walked on into the wide foyer, towards the security checkpoints. She came after him, her needle-point heels clicking on the floor. She overtook him and brought him to a sudden stop.
‘Adam says I have to get your signature. It’s about the door.’
Adam was her boss, an old-school manager well known for getting a kick out of making her life as miserable as possible.
‘What door?’
‘Your people broke down a door. They said you told them to. Adam says he won’t pay for a new one unless you sign the authorisation yourself. Could you just sign it and I promise I’ll go away?’
Through the glass entranceway, Harrigan saw the minister’s car pull up outside. The front door opened and his adviser stepped out, carrying a thick folder and a laptop. Harrigan had the awful vision of escorting the minister through the building with Mandy’s heels rattling along behind them.
‘Where do I sign?’
‘Just there.’
Harrigan took the document, a financial form, and scrawled his name across it. He saw the minister get out of the back seat and join his adviser. They were sharing a brief conversation. He should already have been with them.
‘Tell your arsehole of a boss I’m going to come and talk to him just as soon as I get the time.’
‘I’d love someone to do that,’ Mandy said, as an all-engulfing roar smashed forwards into the glass front doors. Harrigan saw flames encompass the two figures standing beside the minister’s car and then the car itself. Instantaneously, the power of the explosion tore through the security guards’ stations, knocking them and the guards down and throwing everyone else in the foyer, Harrigan and Mandy included, to the floor. The noise roared in their ears and dust, broken glass and debris filled the air, creating an artificial darkness. The building alarms began to shriek piercingly and the sprinklers came on. Water bucketed down, soaking everyone. Mandy curled up on the floor, screaming. Other cries could be heard, including from people who had been injured. The foyer seemed to have filled with shouting, panicking people.
Harrigan scrambled to his feet. What had once been whole lay in ruins around them. Outside, the car was burning. The dead were not so much dead as destroyed. Harrigan’s mechanical side took over, the way it always did under this kind of pressure. He became what he was often accused of being: unfeeling, driven. A machine with that original ghost inside who watched his movements while he organised everything as calmly as if they were only retrieving stolen plasma screens or laptops. He took out his phone and rang Trevor.
‘Boss, what’s going on? The alarms have started ringing.’
‘Tell God we’ve just had a political assassination. I think something the minister’s adviser was carrying has just blown up. Edwards and his adviser are dead and possibly other people as well. The security guards here are injured, and the minister’s car is burning. Where’s Marvin?’
‘In his office. He walked out after you did, he said he’d forgotten something. Why?’
‘Brief the commissioner. Tell him I’ll find him when I’ve sorted something out.’
The building’s own emergency fire-control team had appeared, racing for the burning car. Harrigan heard sirens outside on the street. He left Mandy to the care of whoever found her first and ran. Sirens were screeching throughout the building, signalling the evacuation of all staff. All lifts would stop on the next floor they came to and immobilise as soon as the doors were opened. He ran up the fire stairs, dripping water, passing people coming down who stared at him. He ran into Marvin’s office. Sharon gaped at him. She was collecting her bags to leave.
‘Where’s Marvin?’
‘He’s packing to go now, with everyone else. What is it? What’s going on?’
Without replying, Harrigan walked towards Marvin’s office. The door opened and Marvin appeared, about to leave. He saw Harrigan and stopped.
‘No, mate. I wasn’t there when the bomb went off,’ Harrigan said. ‘You might have wanted me dead but it hasn’t happened. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s talk.’