Private Sydney Read online

  Two more clicks.

  The waiting was more distressing than any pain. All these years distilled into this moment.

  Attaching the USB, his finger hovered slightly over the enter button to transfer the program to the USB, then delete itself.

  His other mobile phone jolted him out of the moment. He retrieved it from his trouser pocket and took a deep breath before answering.

  This was the most important meeting he would ever have. At stake was his life.

  Chapter 85

  THE CALL DIDN’T go exactly as hoped. The contact wanted to meet in a cove only accessible by boat. The offer expired in twenty minutes. That left barely enough time to make it, and no chance of assessing the meeting place for signs of an ambush.

  But if things went well, he’d be on a plane out of the country tonight.

  He started the engine from the internal helm. As soon as the key turned, he could smell something burning. Plastic.

  He scanned the gauges overhead. Water temperature, oil pressure, rpm on the tachometer were all in the normal range. The amp meter was erratic and read low but the engine was running. There was more than enough fuel to get there.

  The smell dissipated as quickly as it came on.

  His eyes darted back to the computer. The download was still in progress.

  Seventy per cent.

  Seventy-three.

  There was no time to waste. He stepped out and around the deck to the fore and untied the mooring rope with his good arm. The boat butted against buffers on the pontoon as he hurriedly released the aft.

  Back at the helm, he pushed the throttle forward and steered free. The hairs on his neck prickled. Something was wrong.

  The laptop read eighty per cent downloaded.

  Then he smelled smoke.

  Eighty-four.

  Beyond the laptop, a flash of light caught his eye. A fire had started in the aft.

  If it took hold, the fuel tanks could ignite. In a split-second decision he grabbed the fire-extinguisher from the galley and rushed to the source. He pulled the pin and doused foam on the flames but the fire seemed to rear. Sweat pouring from his face and chest, he made one more choice.

  He raced back to the computer.

  Ninety-eight …

  A loud whoosh sounded behind the cabin. Flames were out of control. And he was out of time.

  Yanking the USB, he took off to the deck and levered himself over the safety rail. He leapt outwards. Midair, the explosion thrust him higher and further.

  Intense pain as his shoulder hit the surface caused him to gasp. Water filled his burning lungs. Disorientated in the blackness, he struggled to find air. The surface had to be close. Fingertips broke through.

  The next explosion propelled him backwards.

  Deeper.

  Into an abyss.

  Chapter 86

  I WALKED IN the door of my apartment clutching pastries and coffees from the local bakery. The sun had risen and streamed in the ocean-side windows. A wheelchair was parked behind the front door.

  I wanted sleep after an exhausting night trekking through the bush but there were greater priorities. I heard the shower running and a quick check showed Eliza had spent the night in the spare room.

  As I put breakfast on the kitchen bench, the bathroom door opened and Eliza appeared, dressed, hobbling on forearm crutches. Her legs swung wide from the hips as she moved forward. Her hair was wet and fell in soft waves around her face. She stopped when she saw me.

  I’d never seen her stand, let alone walk. It struck me how tall she was.

  ‘Good morning,’ I said. ‘Hope you were comfortable.’

  ‘You were kind to let me stay.’

  She looked drawn, as if she hadn’t slept much.

  ‘You should see the expression on your face. Surprised I can walk?’

  I was a little taken aback, but didn’t want to say something clumsy or insensitive. ‘Maybe a little.’

  ‘Don’t get excited, I can’t go far. The legs run out of oomph pretty quickly.’

  Eliza deflected conversation, something I suspected she was very good at. There was no hint of the trauma she’d experienced last night.

  I wouldn’t normally open my home to a client but this case was bigger and more threatening than I’d imagined. And there was something special about Eliza.

  ‘Hungry?’ I nodded at the food.

  ‘I am now.’ She pulled herself on to one of the stools by the kitchen bench and placed her crutches in the corner.

  I tore open the bags to expose cheese and bacon rolls, croissants and fresh bread. Plates from the cupboard went on the bench along with the two takeaway coffees.

  Eliza asked if I had sugar. I rummaged through the cupboard but came up empty. Living alone, I tended to cook the essentials – meat and veggies, salads, sometimes roast a chicken.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No problem. It’s all about the caffeine.’

  I thought about moving outside to the balcony, with the ocean view, but the chairs out there were low set. I joined Eliza, facing the ocean.

  ‘We learnt some things last night.’

  ‘Go on.’ Her back straightened and she picked small pieces from the cheese and bacon roll and popped them into her mouth.

  ‘With the visit from the US Ambassador, you being followed and then broken into, we have to think your father was involved in some kind of government organisation, overt or covert.’

  ‘You mean like the CIA? You’re kidding, right?’

  I’d expected at best denial, at worst an argument. But Eliza had to believe last night was a targeted attack, irrespective of what the police may have said.

  ‘I’m serious. It isn’t unusual for government agencies to set up in other countries. These organisations sometimes use legitimate businesses as shopfronts. They call it “mutual advantage”.’

  Eliza listened intently.

  ‘Operatives are paid by the business, or organisations, pay tax, and really believe they’re contributing. It’s an ideology as much as a job.’

  ‘You think Contigo Valley is one of these fronts?’

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know. It could be that government agencies became interested because of the defence contracts and research and development projects your father initiated.’

  ‘He is against war, of any kind. Everything he’s done, with the surgical inventions, rehydration techniques, has been to save lives.’ She became absorbed in a tiny piece of bacon. ‘There’s no way he is involved in war-mongering.’ She looked directly at me. ‘If you believe that, you’re crazier than that guy who attacked me.’

  Chapter 87

  I KNEW ELIZA wouldn’t take the theory well. Still, it had to be said.

  ‘We have to consider the possibility your father was an agency operative. He didn’t have any form of documentation. If it did exist before he disappeared, it has to have been wiped from every government database. No one else has that sort of power.’

  Eliza stared out the window. ‘We often talked about how the CIA overthrew dictators and replaced them with even worse despots. It was like a hydra – every time they intervened, the situation was made worse. Then there’s South America, the Russians in the Ukraine; the list is endless. Those interventions never once ended well or made people safer.’ She flicked her hair, almost defiantly, and the scent of coconut from her shampoo reached me.

  ‘There’s more,’ I said. ‘Your father was courting bankers for loans. He used containers that supposedly held high-tech equipment that could theoretically be inspected as proof of the organisation’s value.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Supposedly?’

  ‘There were two shipping containers next to a helipad. Your father could have taken investors there and shown them, as collateral for the loans. He could fly them there anytime. He could pilot helicopters too.’

  From the shocked expression, it was clear she didn’t know that.

  ‘Mary and I trekked out to them last night. The c
ontainers were empty.’

  ‘Sir Lang must have had them emptied as soon as Dad left.’

  I bit into a roll and shook my head. ‘They hadn’t been opened recently and were pretty much rusted closed. Contigo was on the fraud squad’s radar.’

  ‘Wait! Fraud? My father would never –’

  I put a hand on hers. ‘Just hear me out, please, and it may make more sense. We think he showed prospective lenders one container at the base, then flew them over others, which were supposed to house expensive equipment.’

  ‘What was the point?’

  ‘That’s what I wondered. By then the bankers trusted him. Eric was accepting hundreds of millions of loans based on government contracts, which we can’t confirm, and I can’t see how he could have paid the loans back with interest. When the finance officer asked about some missing charity dinner tickets, I suspect your dad panicked.’ I sipped my coffee. ‘Once the in-house accounts team started auditing, they would have found evidence of much more substantial fraud. It’s the only explanation as to why a missing receipt for ten thousand dollars triggered his disappearance.’

  ‘But the organisation was financially sound.’

  ‘If your dad was lying to bankers about non-existent technology and equipment, something was very wrong. I suspect your father had built a house of cards that was about to collapse. It would explain why he disappeared in such a hurry, without telling you.’

  Chapter 88

  A KNOCK ON the door broke a long, tense silence.

  It was Mark Talbot. He was alone and didn’t apologise for the interruption. I wondered what bombshell he was about to drop by turning up at my home uninvited. I knew there was still no word on baby Zoe.

  He wasn’t forthcoming with the reason for his visit so I let him know about the phone hacking by Craven Media and how Collette’s mobile was evidence. If they tracked the car that Johnny saw last night, the police would no doubt find illegal listening and surveillance devices.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ Mark said, ‘I didn’t think you’d risk a child’s life for publicity or kickbacks. I know you better than that.’

  Was that actually an apology? Maybe my cousin had been upset about his break-up and taken it out on me. I decided to let it go and offered to make him a coffee, but all I had was instant. He looked at the takeaway cups.

  ‘I’ll pass. I need to talk to Miss Moss. Alone.’

  ‘I want him to stay,’ Eliza said, reaching for my hand.

  It didn’t go unnoticed by Mark.

  ‘Your prerogative,’ he shrugged.

  I offered him a seat but he preferred to stand. This wasn’t just about the Zoe Ruffalo case or information leaks. Mark hadn’t come to apologise or make peace. This visit was serious, and official.

  ‘I’ve been asked by the commissioner to liaise with the Federal Police on Eric Moss’s disappearance. He’s asked me to personally update you on the case. And before you say anything, Craig, I’m as surprised as you. It’s my area of command, but the investigation is being run by other agencies. My team has no official involvement.’

  Eliza bit her top lip and I could see the pulse in her neck. We were both anticipating the worst news.

  ‘We believe Eric Moss was using a false identity.’ Mark let his words hang but there was no reaction from either of us. ‘Evidence suggests he was a Swiss con man by the name of Hans Erikson Gudgast, born February 11, 1956. He was a mathematical genius who completed university by the age of sixteen and was recruited by a Swiss bank. He took bribes to set up bank accounts in false names for foreign nationals and was due to face trial for embezzlement and fraud. Something about skimming point zero, zero, zero, zero something cents from every account transaction. Made millions before anyone could notice.’

  ‘Did he skip bail?’ I asked.

  ‘He was thought to have died in a kayaking accident on Lake Lucerne, at the ripe old age of twenty. A shoe and safety vest were all that washed up and they were positively identified as his.’ He crossed his arms and leant back against the stove. ‘A few months later, in June 1976, a man with a French passport entered Australia with the name Hans Gudgast. His mother was purportedly French so he had dual citizenship. Documents confirm he was six foot one and a hundred and sixty pounds. This of course preceded the European Union and digital records.’

  I quickly did the maths. Gudgast would have been fifty-eight years old, the same age as Eric Moss. ‘You think Gudgast flew here to avoid prosecution?’

  ‘He was on the passenger manifest for a flight to New Zealand a week after arriving in Sydney and there were no further entries to Australia.’

  ‘Then that can’t be Dad,’ Eliza said. ‘Once you’re confirmed on the passenger list, you have to board or they take your luggage off and stop the plane.’

  ‘Not back then,’ I remembered. ‘You could get your boarding pass and leave the airport. If he didn’t have luggage, no one would have noticed or recorded his absence.’

  ‘We believe,’ Mark said firmly, ‘that Hans Erikson Gudgast and Eric Moss are one and the same person.’

  Chapter 89

  ELIZA SAT STARING out at the ocean as I escorted Mark out. I sat with her in silence for a few minutes.

  ‘I don’t believe any of it,’ she said finally.

  ‘It would explain why he didn’t have a passport, or any documents about where he was born, went to school, why he didn’t have a bank account. That wasn’t lost on the police either.’

  ‘That isn’t true. Contigo paid him. You can’t get a salary without a bank account. Non-profit organisations don’t pay cash wages.’

  Obviously, Eliza didn’t know about the payout awaiting her. ‘Actually, he didn’t take the money. He negotiated a low salary and put it in a trust.’

  She looked up, confused.

  ‘The trust was for you. So you were always taken care of.’

  Eliza’s shock turned to anger. ‘Are you falling for all the crap the police are sprouting?’

  ‘Think about it,’ I tried. ‘It hasn’t made sense from the start.’

  She reached for her crutches, slipped her forearms into the open cuffs and stood, shakily at first.

  ‘And you think that my father was defrauding Contigo Valley, the very company he built from nothing and which saved countless people’s lives? You have no idea what my father is like. You just said he took no money, no salary.’ She hobbled towards the spare room. ‘Someone has set him up and you don’t want to see it.’

  I couldn’t blame her for reacting this way.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Getting my things. Then I’ll find Dad so he can clear his name.’

  I paced, hands on hips. It wasn’t safe for her to go out, especially if she were still being followed. But this was a determined, stubborn woman who needed to defend her father’s honour. She couldn’t go out alone.

  ‘If you wait, I’ll drive you,’ I called out.

  Through the open door I saw her crumple on the bed and the crutches drop to the floor. At first she began to cry quietly, then her body gave way to heavy sobs. I went in and sat next to her. I wanted to stop her pain but for now all I could do was hold her gently.

  ‘Wait.’ She sat up, eyes swollen. ‘Someone wanted him out of Contigo Valley. It has to be Lang Gillies. He’s the one capable of fraud. And he’s rolling in cash.’

  It was possible, but the police seemed pretty sure Moss was the Swiss man.

  Eliza wiped her face. ‘How tall did he say Gudgast was?’

  ‘My height. Six foot one. 185 centimetres.’

  ‘Well, that proves he isn’t my father.’ She composed herself enough to make complete sense. ‘You can make yourself look taller, but it’s hard to cut inches off. I used to measure him to see how tall I was getting in comparison. My dad is 180 centimetres. A whole five centimetres shorter.’

  Chapter 90

  I WONDERED IF the police genuinely believed Moss was Gudgast, or whether that’s what they wanted us to think
. I left Eliza to gather her things and headed for a quick shower. No sooner had I turned on the taps then I heard a scream. Towel hastily wrapped around, I ran out to find Eliza holding a hand over her mouth, staring at the TV in the lounge.

  A badly damaged body had been pulled from Sydney Harbour. Sources believed it to be Eric Moss, missing CEO of the world-renowned Contigo Valley. The banner continued to scroll across the screen informing viewers that Moss had disappeared four days earlier.

  I quickly dialled Mark Talbot and couldn’t hide my contempt.

  ‘Do you know what’s blazoned across the TV right now?’

  My cousin sighed heavily. ‘As far as I know the body’s still in the water and hasn’t been identified. An anonymous caller told the Water Police they’d find Moss in the harbour. I needed confirmation it wasn’t a hoax before I could tell Miss Moss. That’s why I’m headed to the scene now.’

  I watched Eliza.

  ‘Craig?’ Mark was still on the phone. ‘I’m sorry she had to find out like that. If it isn’t him, I’ll let you know asap.’

  I hung up, believing the media had found out before the local area command. The news report was on Craven’s channel. I suspected we weren’t the only office Craven Media had bugged.

  Not wanting to leave Eliza alone, I dressed quickly and took her to the office, where Johnny promised to look after her. She hadn’t spoken in the car and was still in shock when we arrived.

  Darlene and I headed out straightaway to where the body had been discovered.

  Police and media vans were already there and the scene had been cordoned off. Uniformed police and bystanders tried to block public view with rugs and space blankets. We bobbed under the police tape as the corpse was being placed in a body bag.

  Darlene pushed through with her kit and began taking photos as I fended off challenges from officers who didn’t know her.

  The body was bloated. The face was darkish blue, swollen, unrecognisable. There was a foul stench, like rotting fish. Rex King was already on his haunches, examining the wounds.