‘Elena Calvo.’
‘Good morning, Dr Calvo. I didn’t think you’d mind me ringing you so early. You struck me as the type to be at your desk first thing. How are you today?’
‘Are you making this call in an official capacity?’
‘No, I’d see this as a personal call. A very personal and confidential call.’
‘I can think of no reason why you would have anything personal or confidential to discuss with me.’
‘I thought you’d like to know we’ve found my son and he’s alive.’
‘I’m very pleased to hear it on your behalf, but it has nothing to do with me.’
‘I think it does. I’ll get straight to the point. I think you should make some time to see me, Dr Calvo. Because how long do you think it’s going to take us to find du Plessis?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said.
‘Whatever you do, whatever strings you pull, whatever money you throw at it, we’re going to get to him sooner or later,’ Harrigan continued. ‘Do you want to know how many people are out there looking for him right now? He can’t leave the country. All the exits are blocked. Do you think he’s going to keep his mouth shut when we do get him? We can send him back to South Africa any time we want to. He’s looking at a lifetime in gaol over there. He’s probably got a lot of enemies waiting to get their hands on him back home. I don’t think they’ll be very gentle when they do get hold of him. Those are prospects that might make him very talkative.’
‘I don’t understand why you’re saying such things to me,’ she replied. ‘I asked you a number of days ago if you wanted us to undertake scientific research into your son’s physical condition. You said you needed time to make up your mind. I can see you in relation to that. That would make sense to me.’
‘Then let’s get together. I’m busy most of the day. I can see you later on this afternoon. You can come to me this time.’
‘We can compromise,’ she said, almost with sarcasm. ‘We have a city office in the Australia Square building. I’ll be here until this evening. You can find the address in the phone book. Come to the entrance to the car park. Someone will meet you.’
They hung up on each other almost simultaneously. Harrigan felt detached; it was a relief. Revenge was not part of the strategy he and Trevor had put together last night but it was still in his mind. He had never had so much desire to exact it as he did now.
When Harrigan drove into the police headquarters car park for his meeting, Chloe was waiting for him.
‘Does the commissioner want to see me?’ he asked.
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something for you.’
She handed him a cassette tape. He looked it over.
‘Sharon gave that to me yesterday evening. Apparently, the special assistant commissioner requested it go to the commissioner in the event of anything happening to him. It’s a recording of a recent phone conversation between the two of you.’
‘Did she listen to it?’ he asked.
‘She says no. I haven’t listened to it either. I’m not quite sure why the commissioner would need to be concerned with it. I thought you’d be the best person to decide whether he does or not.’
‘Thanks,’ Harrigan said.
‘You’re welcome. They’re waiting for you upstairs,’ she said, raising her carefully waxed eyebrows at him before walking away.
Harrigan locked the tape in his briefcase and made his way to the briefing room feeling like a liar and a thief. He accepted people’s congratulations for his son’s safety like the hypocrite he was, barely able to thank them in return. His people put his mood down to relief and exhaustion. They were generous; it galled him.
Officers from the federal police arrived. Two men and a woman, dressed in what seemed almost identical grey suits. They sat together at the back of the room. Their boss, Kevin Parkin, was a thin-faced man in his early fifties, his hair slicked forward to hide a bald spot. They carried nothing other than their notepads and, in the hand of the woman, an audio recording device. Supposedly they were part of a cooperative investigation, but even in his meeting with them last night, Harrigan had felt them drawing a fence around themselves.
The second guest was an inspector from the task force set up to investigate Marvin’s assassination. Meredith O’Connor arrived in what looked like full dress uniform, her hair and make-up immaculate. Approaching retirement, she’d been around for more than thirty years, a biography that suggested impressive survival skills. Experience had taught Harrigan she was a dogged worker and a rigid thinker.
Trevor did the introductions to a group of weary people in a room that smelt of takeaway food and coffee. Harrigan stood to the side, leaving it to his 2IC to run the show.
‘Meredith doesn’t have a great deal of time,’ Trevor said. ‘I’m going to ask her to quickly go through what we know about Marvin’s shooting and then let her go. But before we start, some news.’
There was a laptop computer on the table. Trevor hit a key and the first page of the dossier appeared on the screen behind him.
‘This hit the net at seven this morning. It’s Edwards’ copy of the dossier. He left instructions that if anything happened to him, this was to be posted on the net as soon as possible. His staff did just that and there’s no taking it back. Anyone can download it whenever they want to and I’m sure they already have. I’m waiting for the agency who owns it to come pounding on our door. At least Edwards was responsible: his staff blacked out any names that might identify any innocent parties.’
‘There wasn’t much information of that nature in there, Trev,’ Ralph called. ‘There were no agents’ names.’
‘He also had this put online,’ Trevor went on. ‘Most of you have read it already. It’s a digital copy of an affidavit he swore that says he was bribed to get Beck into the country. He accuses one person in particular, a very well-known entrepreneur. If we weren’t all so cynical to start with, the name might surprise us. Apparently there are already enraged denials out there in cyberspace. Lucky you can’t sue the dead. Now, Meredith. Can you tell us what you know about Marvin’s shooting?’
‘I’d like to ask the commander a question about Marvin Tooth first,’ Parkin called from the back of the room. ‘You’ve stated that he called you back to confess to you that he had been under duress to sabotage this investigation. He did this because he was shocked by the deaths caused by yesterday’s bombings and now wanted to help identify who was responsible. Is that correct?’
‘So he said,’ Harrigan replied.
‘That’s quite a confession given what had just happened. Implicating himself in the murders of a government minister and his adviser is no small thing.’
‘I don’t believe that was his motive at all, whatever he may have told the commander here.’ Meredith interrupted with her usual brusqueness. ‘My own judgement is that he realised his position was becoming untenable. He must have known it was only a matter of time and was seeking to justify himself.’
Thank you, Meredith, Harrigan thought. She had moved forward, taking over the laptop and projecting a map of the streets surrounding police headquarters onto the screen.
‘The initial findings are that the special assistant commissioner was shot by a high-powered rifle from vacant office space on the fourth floor of this building here, on the eastern side of the street that our building backs on to,’ she said. ‘We have no sightings of the killer and obviously no descriptions.’
‘How could they know their target was going to be there?’ Parkin asked.