All things considered that was about as far as Royle wished to take the matter. It was now for the police to deal with; he and his partner had pressing issues elsewhere. Royle next took the officer to Mandu’s body, pointing out the need for extreme care still around the perimeter fence, unless he wished to end the day in a similar state of anatomical disorder.
Charlie drove back to Cairns with Royle as a wounded passenger, leaving Madge to return the rental vehicle. He thought through Dan’s likely reasons for forcing him to hand over both cell phones. Dan surely knew about the general lack of any outback cell phone signal. Which of course was why Royle had his turned off at the time; they were still turned off on the dashboard in front of him. So what was the point in Dan’s removing his phone, or even both of them?
Reaching into the glove compartment, he extracted the satellite phone and spent time explaining the three deaths and the money to Angie Watts.
Angie did not seem overly impressed. “Your present partner just shot dead your former partner? Bloody hell, what’s the body count now, three in Australia and four in America?”
“You can add two more,” he suggested. “For reasons best known to himself Dan shot the guard dogs.”
“What’s your next move, then?”
“As far as Charlie and I are concerned we’re done here. We’re heading for Sydney briefly, then off back to the US tomorrow.”
He next made various calls to America, including updating Whitland, who had finally been released from hospital, though with strict instructions to take it easy. He seemed to accept the news of Dan’s second passing better than expected.
Charlie then took over the phone, Royle hearing her check with Mindy Goldsmith that things were still on track in California, before squeezing in a quick call to her parents. He noticed she made no mention of shooting Dan. Lastly, he heard her calling Dot Alynski.
“A man’s been shot out at the sheep station. We’re afraid it could be your husband.”
“Best bit of news I’ve had for a long time – good riddance to the bastard.”
Charlie ended the call by informing the woman that before she and Royle left Queensland they would be handing over $1,000 Australian for her cooperation.
Back in Cairns, plans for their departure south to Sydney included a visit to A&E, where it was decided that like it or not Royle’s wounded arm should be in a support. The pair then spent a tense hour making police statements regarding the three deaths at the sheep station. That done, they prepared for Madge getting the Toyota back to Sydney once she had handed the money over to Dot Alynski. She was also to open an account in the name of Mandu’s partner, with a deposit of $50,000 Australian from what they were now calling the ‘parrot money’, the balance being paid into Royle’s Australian account by Madge in smaller amounts as she moved south. It was dark by the time they had dealt with various remaining issues, amongst which explaining Mandu’s death had been the most difficult.
Getting on for midnight Madge drove the pair around to Cairns Airport, Royle surprising Charlie by explaining how he had chartered a private jet to get them back to Sydney.
“You heard me ask Whitland what the budget was. He said ‘it costs whatever it takes’. At this moment a charter jet is what it takes, plus we have the parrot money to cover it.”
Because the aircraft was not quite ready the pair went for something to eat, Charlie’s mobile ringing as they sat down. It was Angie Watts.
“I’m trying to contact your partner. Both his phones seem to be off.”
Charlie passed Royle her phone.
“What’s the problem?” he enquired, taking the phone and realising he had still not switched on his mobiles.
“It’s Angie, she seems a bit stressed over something.”
“Angie, what’s up?” He waited for her response, but nothing came. “What’s going on, Angie?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Try, Angie.”
“Your daughter arrived here in Sydney after you two left for Cairns. She wanted to surprise you, and see your sister, Chris.”
Now it was Royle’s turn to go quiet. “Why didn’t someone tell me Sam was there?”
“Chris and I discussed it. We decided you might not be too happy, and anyway you had a lot going on. We agreed she could use my garden house until you got back here.”
“And?”
Again, there was a brief silence before Angie responded. “Sam didn’t come home this evening. Normally she calls if she’s late.”
Royle had a cold, empty feeling in his stomach and he was fighting back the panic.
“Look on the bedside table,” he suggested. “See if her watch is there.”
“There’s no watch; I just checked her room.”
Surprisingly he almost sounded relieved. “It’s not just a watch.”
There was a minor explosion at the other end. “You put a tracking device on your daughter?!”
Royle explained how a couple of years back Sam had gone down into Mexico with some girlfriends. As a kind of backup he had presented her with a fancy watch, complete with compass, except that it also contained a tracking device the Special Techniques section made for him. Just in case. She had still been wearing it on their recent ride out into the swamp.
“There’s probably a simple explanation. Give me time to get at my computer and we’ll at least know where she is.”
“What if it’s more serious? There are some weird things going on in your investigation.”
He was slow in responding. “Charlie and I both thought we had this kind of possibility covered. Someone’s really starting to piss me off.”
Thanking Angie and ending the call, he and his partner went back to the hangar and extracted his laptop. He turned it on and opened the tracking programme, relieved to see Sam’s watch was still active. According to the computer screen she was now over the Blue Mountains well to the west of Sydney. It occurred to him that it was just a few days since he and Charlie had travelled that same route, on their way out to the Strzelecki Track. Then, opening the screen, following Mickey Bird’s truck, they both saw that it mirrored the location of his daughter’s watch. There could only be one explanation: Mickey Bird had taken his daughter, and they both had an idea where he was heading.
He felt Charlie’s hand stroking his back.
“Sam can look after herself,” she encouraged. “Do we think Dan put him up to this?”
He shook his head. “Dan had no idea Sam was in Australia.”
“Who, then?”
He thought about that. “There’s no way Mickey Bird would know about Sam, so someone back in the States has to be pulling his strings. My money’s on Winnings still.”
Clearly a change of plan was in order; they were no longer going to Sydney, but instead needed to get themselves back out into the desert country. They could also forget any thoughts of driving out to the Strzelecki Track; this called for a far more immediate response. Logging onto the internet Royle went in search of an airfield in Broken Hill, the nearest town of any size to the Strzelecki Track.
* * *
Settling into her seat in preparation for leaving Cairns, Charlie thought through the events of the past few days. Again, he had failed to keep her updated on developments in their supposedly joint inquiry, particularly not mentioning he knew it was Dan Morgan they were dealing with at the sheep station. She was still coming to terms with him placing a tracking device on his daughter, though she was beginning to appreciate the difficult situation Royle must have found himself in. Take her shooting of Dan; had he told her beforehand who they were really dealing with, she might just have hesitated before squeezing the trigger. Realising Royle must be worried for the safety of his daughter, she was nevertheless unclear on a couple of matters leading up to this morning’s confrontation.
“I can understand h
ow Dan might change sides and try hiding himself away on this side of the world.” She watched him seeking a comfortable position for his shoulder. “What concerns me is how easily we assumed the body in the tiger pen was his.”
He sat up again, his face momentarily distorting in pain. “You can see how it could happen. We were looking for a body and we found one. Better still, we found Dan’s badge and phone.”
“You agree it was our fault, then?”
“We’re all to blame, Charlie, but mostly the people in the lab. We were seeing what we expected to see, based on what we were being made to believe. The lab, though, works on the principle of accept nothing, check everything. Or it should do.”
He leaned back in his seat, obviously thinking the discussion was over. But she just sat there, looking at him, making clear she was troubled still.
“Get it off your chest,” he suggested, searching his pockets for the pain tablets.
She selected her words carefully. “I can’t help noticing how unmoved you seemed to be by Dan’s death, on both occasions. Considering how close you two were, I expected far more of a reaction.”
“I could pad this out, be diplomatic, as I’m sure Whitland would.”
“But it’s not that simple?”
“Dan was not very nice. If he’d had his way all of us on that rescue would probably be lying in unmarked graves in Central America.”
“What did he do?”
“The mission was going wrong and our best chance of survival was to get ourselves out of there, quickly. Dan panicked when the firing started and two of the rescued men got shot climbing aboard. He wanted us to put our hands up.”
“What happened?”
“A couple of the guys held him down until I got the chopper out of range.”
“Is that why you never mentioned the medals while you both worked in the Department?”
“Partly.”
She assumed Royle realised she was giving him the psychiatrist’s treatment. “Was that the only reason you two never got along afterwards?”
“Dan was a serious threat to any woman he went near. I learned to keep my mouth closed, but knowing how well Paula’s radar works I’ll be surprised if she didn’t know. And if she knew, then Whitland did too.”
Charlie realised they should be trying to sleep, but he was in a talkative mood and she needed to make the most of it. “Is that it, then? Nothing else?”
“About what?”
“About anything, but Dan in particular.”
She saw him hesitate. “There is more, but it’s hardly bedtime reading. You’ll think I’m making it up.”
“Try me.”
“Our orders included bringing back one of the rebels, to help obtain intelligence. In the dash back to the helicopter the marines grabbed a guy carrying a Kalashnikov, dragging him in through the door. That’s when we discovered he was just a kid, around fifteen years old.”
“Sounds like something out of a cheap movie.”
“More like a nightmare. Once we were out of range of the gunfire we turned our attention to our captive. The kid was terrified and obviously knew nothing. I suggested putting the helicopter down somewhere and releasing him.”
He paused, clearly unsure whether to continue.
“You can’t stop there.”
“Dan lost it again. Started on about not risking our lives over some kid. Next thing we know he pulls the lad over to the open door and pushes him out, at one thousand feet. I can still see the look of terror on the kid’s face as he disappeared.”
She lightly placed a hand on his wounded shoulder. “You two worked together all these years, with those kinds of memories lurking away in the background?”
“It’s surprising what the brain can cope with, especially when you’re young. You’re right, though, you don’t forget, and once you’ve lost that relationship you never regain it.”
They both finally settled and were quiet for a while, before he sat up again.
She watched him searching his pockets. “Pain tablets?”
“Forgot to turn my mobiles on again.”
His personal phone reacted to the start-up command, but the office phone failed to respond. She watched him checking the battery, which had probably become dislodged during the business with Dan. Having fixed the problem, he turned his attention to Charlie.
“You think I’m weird putting a trace on Sam, but I’m not alone.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Ever look inside your office phone?”
“Are you saying it contains a tracking device?” she queried, rummaging through her bag before extracting the phone and removing the cover.
“Behind the battery.”
She immediately located the device. “It’s true what they say, then. Trust nobody in this business but especially those closest to you.”
“Present company excepted,” Royle suggested. “And anyway, Whitland does it for all the right reasons.”
She was shaking her head. “So why did we have trouble tracking down Dan’s phone?”
“Dan objected to anyone knowing where he was, probably because of all his extramarital activities. He repeatedly removed the device; it really annoyed Whitland.” But then he paused.
“Something else I don’t know about?” she wondered.
“It just came to me why Dan wanted both my mobiles back at the sheep station. He realised Whitland would have bugged our replacement phones.”
Seventeen
Despite all Royle’s earlier organising, things were not going to plan. Certainly, when he and Charlie landed at Broken Hill at first light the Gazelle helicopter was out on the tarmac and ready to go. The pilot, though, had not appeared. According to Light Airfreight’s harassed boss, Walt Campbell, his pilot had the unfortunate habit of needing to sleep off the occasional ‘bugger of a hangover’. Furthermore, Campbell’s suggestion that the two get themselves into town and chill out while he located his man did not go down at all well.
“Perhaps I didn’t properly explain things,” Royle began, standing in front of the packing case masquerading as Campbell’s office desk. “When I hired you to get us out to the Strzelecki Track first thing this morning, I meant first thing. Not whenever you can get your pilot off his arse and into the bloody helicopter.”
Campbell appeared unmoved as he lit his next cigarette. “What you bloody tourists don’t understand is that here in the outback we need to be sure we’ve got all the equipment we’re likely to require. Plus, to get to where you want to go we’ll be near our fuel limit.”
Royle indicated the walking stick hooked over the corner of the desk, plus Campbell’s leg sticking straight out.
“Seeing your stiff leg, I’m guessing you couldn’t fly the helicopter even if I suggested it.” He glanced in his partner’s direction. “It’s a while since I flew a chopper of any kind, but it seems to me we’re faced with two options: either you fly the bloody thing, or I do.”
“Don’t think we can go that route, young feller, my insurance doesn’t cover you. But never mind my leg, what about that thing?” He indicated the sling supporting Royle’s arm.
Royle’s response was predictable. Removing the support, he threw it onto the desk. “What thing might that be?”
You did not need to be a mind reader to see what Campbell thought of that. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”
Royle leaned forward, hands palm down on the make-do desk. “We’re obviously not having the same conversation here. Charlie and I need to get out there now and you have the only helicopter capable of doing the job. Like it or not your machine’s elected.”
He could see the man shaking his head, but he also felt Charlie’s hand slide across his back and pull the Browning from his waistband. He heard the click of the safety catch as the weapon appeared past his face, coming to
rest against Campbell’s left ear.
She sounded like she should be listened to. “One of us needs to make a decision, so I just did. Phil’s going to fly your precious helicopter, while you tell him what he’s doing wrong. I need to see the three of us in the air and on our way towards rescuing a very frightened young girl.”
Campbell looked justifiably surprised.
“Oh, and we’re not ‘bloody tourists’,” Charlie added. “We’re American federal agents. So, if your precious flying machine gets scratched the American government will pay for any repairs.”
For one reason or another there was a distinct change in the man’s attitude.
“Hell, I had no idea you felt that strongly,” Campbell said, turning his attention back to Royle. “You really flown one of these things, I mean a Gazelle?”
“I’ve put them down in the most difficult situations imaginable and got them out again without any damage. Ask the British or American forces.”
Charlie smiled to herself, recalling Paula’s description of Royle’s helicopter at the end of their Central American mission.
“She’s got none of them fancy military gimmicks. No heads-up display and all that rubbish,” Campbell explained. “And we’ll be near our fuel limit, though some sheep stations keep a supply. Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is, then.”
Royle surprised even himself with how quickly he got the hang of things. In no time at all he had the Gazelle heading in a straight line, northwest across the desert country at near the machine’s maximum 260 kilometres per hour. Unlike sitting in a commercial aircraft, at twenty-something thousand feet, seeing the ground streaking past a couple of hundred feet away brought all manner of memories flashing through his already busy mind.
Charlie realised he was unusually quiet. “How does it feel?” she enquired, seeing the flicker of a smile in the corners of his eyes.
“To be honest I wasn’t sure I could do this, but if we keep this up we should be there in a couple of hours.”
The Consequences of Finding Daniel Morgan Page 19
