by Maggie Brown
“I’d like to hear your story,” she answered, then added in a warm intimate voice, “and I’d like us to be friends.”
Jessie took a long steady breath. “I never knew my family,” she began, her usual pleasantly deep voice rising to thin and reedy. “Apparently, my mother was brought into the ER, in labour and spaced out on drugs. After I was born, she disappeared. I became a ward of the state, shuffled through four foster homes until I ran away as soon as I finished high school. I’m not ready to tell what happened in that last home, but only that the father was an abusive violent arsehole. Believe me, living on the streets was a far better option than being in the same house as him.”
With a burst of emotion, Pandora leaned forward impulsively and took her hand. “Geez, Jess, that’s really shitty. How on earth did you manage to become a doctor?”
Jessie gave a crooked smile. “A fucking miracle happened! I won a scholarship to med school.”
“How, if you were homeless?”
“My science teacher, Mrs Murphy, had persuaded me to apply in my last year of school. With all my drama I’d clean forgotten about it. I guess I just thought a person like me couldn’t win something like that. Anyhow, she tracked me down to let me know. I used to think she was a funny old bird at school, but that woman was an angel. She took me home, cleaned me up and gave me some of her married daughter’s clothes she still had in the cupboard. Then she helped me apply to Centrelink for the Youth Allowance, and got me a place in a residential college. The scholarship paid for the accommodation, books, and a few extras.”
Jessie took another deep breath then continued. “That’s where I met Winter…she was my first roommate and became the sister I never had.”
Pandora could only stare at her, fighting hard to keep calm.
Never judge a book by its cover.
How true. She’d misjudged the woman completely. Who wouldn’t have intimacy issues after a childhood like that? “Thank you for confiding in me. I understand now why you want to help children,” she murmured, not able to stop her voice cracking.
“Yeah…well…kids are so vulnerable,” Jessie said, the pink already on her cheeks deepening in colour.
“You’re a very good woman, Dr. Drummond,” Pandora said, squeezing her hand gently.
Jessie held it tighter, a tear on her cheek. She gave a gulp followed by a loud sniffle. “Sorry. I usually can handle my emotions.”
Pandora reached up with her left hand to gently wipe the moisture away. “You shouldn’t—” The sentence was forgotten as she caught a flash of colour out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see Winter staring at them from the threshold.
As casually as possible, she dropped the hand and sank back in her chair. “Hi,” she said brightly. “Did you get the papers away?”
Winter responded with a brief “Yes.”
An awkward pause followed. Jessie was still in her memories, while Winter’s expression had changed from wounded to inscrutable.
“Jessie and I were getting to know each other,” Pandora said, forcing a smile.
“I saw,” said Winter. She flicked her eyes to Jessie. “You look like you could do with a drink. Would you like a beer or something stronger?”
Jessie nodded self-consciously. “A beer will do.”
“Pandora?”
“The same, thanks.”
When Winter disappeared back in the house, Jessie looked sheepishly at her. “Sorry about getting all emotional on you.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I wanted to tell you because I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe we could have dinner one night?” said Jessie earnestly, all swagger gone.
Pandora’s stomach gave a lurch. Things were getting way too complicated. The last thing she wanted to do was to encourage her romantically but didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She commanded more respect than that. She pulled on a sincerely regretful face. “That’s nice of you to ask, Jessie, but I’m not in a position to date at the moment. In a few months perhaps, but until then—” She left the sentence dangling with a shrug.
“Until then what?” asked Winter from the doorway.
“Until then I have commitments,” replied Pandora. “Now we’d better discuss how we’re going to act at the party.”
Winter handed them the beers. “Just remember Gussie as well as Michael will be watching you like a hawk. But then again, you two will be just fine. You’re both experts at seduction.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” growled Pandora.
“As if you didn’t know.”
“No, actually I don’t.”
“Pish!”
Conscious Jessie was looking at them perplexedly, Pandora forced a smile and a change of subject. “So what kind of party are you planning?”
Winter cleared her throat with a guilty look. “Um…yes…the birthday party. I thought laid-back—a barbeque in the back garden.”
“That sounds great. That way is less catering. Everyone can bring a salad. Who do you want to invite?” asked Jessie, now her old self.
“The family for a start so Michael will be able to come. Then friends and some of my office mates. If you want to ask anyone else go ahead. I’ll handle the food.”
“There’s a new girl in town. An anaesthetist. She might be more your style than Linda.”
Winter shook her head. “Pleeease. Don’t keep trying to be a matchmaker.”
“Just trying to help. Pandora says I should be more understanding.”
Winter’s eyes narrowed. Anger glinted in them, like ice in autumn. “Did she indeed. She should butt out. I can look after myself.”
Pandora tugged at the label on her bottle, avoiding Winter’s gaze. Her stomach hitched in frustration. Jessie had deliberately thrown that one in, damn her. She would have known perfectly well Winter valued discretion. Now she was aware they had been discussing her. Pandora searched for words—it had been a long time since she’d been put so far on the back foot. “I’m sorry,” she said simply, then looked at her watch. She’d better make a move or she’d be late for her appointment. “It’s time I went home.”
The anger fled from Winter’s face. “You have to go?” she asked, more subdued.
“I have a few things to attend to.”
“I’ll give you a lift home,” said Jessie immediately.
“Thanks all the same but I’ll get a cab. I’ll leave you both to plan the finer details of the party. That’s what you came over for, Jessie.”
“It’s hardly a Gatsby party—just a barbie round the pool.”
“I would appreciate your help, Jess,” Winter piped up. “I plan to have it in two weeks, so we have to get the invitations out ASAP. I want it low key and no presents.”
“But you gotta have a cake.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll organize one. But that’s all. No speeches. Can you design an online invitation?”
“Okay,” Jessie acquiesced good-naturedly. “I’ll handle them while you prepare the menu. You know what my culinary skills are.” She formed an O with her thumb and forefinger.
After Pandora ordered a yellow cab, she nodded in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll have to go upstairs to collect my dress and shoes before I go.”
“Go on up,” said Winter immediately rising to her feet. “I’ll get a shopping bag and follow you.”
Dejected and a little desperate, Pandora ran up the stairs, trying to think how to repair the damage Jessie’s words had caused. She was aware that if she didn’t do something, it would be hard to mend. She shook out the wrinkled dress, folded it into a neat bundle and placed her shoes on top.
“Here,” said Winter from the doorway.
“Thanks.” She stuffed the clothes into the open bag and said politely, “I guess I’d better be going then. Thank you for having me. I’ll send your clothes over next week.”
She shuffled her feet, reluctant to leave things between them like this, but fresh out of ideas. With a sigh, she headed for
the door.
“Pandora…wait,” Winter said breathlessly, reaching for her arm as she slipped past. “I…I’m sorry for reacting so rudely.”
“You were within your rights. I shouldn’t have been discussing you.”
“Don’t go away mad. Please.”
She looked so flustered and earnest that Pandora reached up to touch her cheek. Winter sidled closer as she automatically began to weave circles on the soft skin. They stared at each other, explanations forgotten. “Would you like to go out on Thursday night? I owe you dinner,” Pandora blurted out without a thought.
Winter sagged with visible relief, then leaned in further until her face was barely a breath away. “I’d like that very much.”
“You would?” Pandora stood mesmerized as she peered into her eyes. The irises had turned alive with dancing golden flecks.
“Uh…huh.”
Pandora dropped her gaze to Winter’s mouth. Her lips looked as soft as butter. Then when Winter poked out her tongue and slowly slid it across her bottom lip, a thrill jumped down Pandora’s body to tingle between her legs. She wet her own lips—funny, she hadn’t realized how dry they had become. Every bit of moisture must have gone south. Then all she could do was tighten her grip on the bundle in her arm when Winter reached up and ran her fingertip along her mouth.
Wow! She hadn’t realized such a simple act could be so erotic. She was throbbing in places she hadn’t felt before.
She had no idea how long they stood there, but it came as a shock when a cry echoed at the bottom of the stairs, “The cab’s here.”
Oops!
They hurriedly stepped away until they were no longer in each other’s space. Pandora had no idea which one of them whimpered. It echoed in the silence like a seductive mating coo.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Pandora whispered and ran downstairs.
Chapter Fourteen
The city was grey, blurred by the heavy rain that had swept in without warning from the east. The cabbie followed her directions, turning off into a narrow side street fronted by a few tired shops and red brick apartment blocks with cramped front porches and tiny front yards. Vague figures hurried along the footpath, heads down against the weather. Pandora made a dash to a staircase in the recess jammed between a secondhand bookstore and a barbershop.
With a last searching glance around the area, she shook the water off her hair and jogged up the steps. When she knocked three times on the steel door at the top, it was opened by a tall muscular man dressed in work pants and a grey, collared shirt. At first glance he might be mistaken for a tradesman. His stance, alert eyes and the slight bulge of the shoulder holster told a different story. Agent Bart Finley was one of their top operatives, the security officer for their team. A former SAS soldier, he had joined their division of Home Affairs three years prior to this assignment.
“Hey, Colly. What’s with the psychedelic shirt? You going all alternate on us?” he said with a grin.
She gave him a good-natured dig in his ribs. “Bugger off, Fin. The boss here yet?”
“He’s in the office. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“Last-minute change of plan. I was out for lunch so figured it’d be wiser to come today. The rain was fortuitous…an extra screen.”
“Something happen?” he asked with a frown.
“Things have become tense at the club, so I’m being extra cautious,” she said as she stepped inside. All signs of the once dingy gym were gone. The space had been gutted, painted, and redesigned into a state-of-the-art surveillance centre. High-tech aids were at their fingertips: a portable biometrics lab, surveillance equipment, and five computer stations.
As she proceeded through, she nodded to the room’s only occupant, a pretty blond woman in her late twenties who was tapping on the laptop keys at the far end. “Hey, Gail.”
“Hi, Colly,” she replied then raised an eyebrow. “Very decorative today.”
“You wish,” said Pandora with a laugh. The programmer loved bright clothes. She also hated working the Sunday shift equally as much—it interfered with her social life.
“See you when I get out,” Pandora called out over her shoulder as she entered the office at the rear.
Captain Lance Milton was waiting at his desk, a takeaway cappuccino in his hand. There was nothing about her boss to suggest he was anything other than an average guy in his forties, with a wife, kids, and mortgage. He had a nondescript face, thinning sandy hair, wide-set guileless blue eyes, and a pair of old-fashioned wire glasses on his nose. Beneath the benign appearance though, lurked an astute intelligence officer with a keen mind and a take-no-shit attitude. Fair but tough. Early in Pandora’s career, she had stuffed up and been on the receiving end of one of his reprimands. It was something she didn’t want repeated.
“Afternoon, Captain,” she said as she took a seat on one of the uncomfortable green vinyl chairs, a remnant from the gym.
“Colly, it’s good to see you.” He pointed to another disposable cup on his desk. “I got you a coffee. I thought you might need the boost.” Then added with a wry grin, raising his cup, “Me too. I can’t say I wasn’t disturbed when you rang this morning. We’re at the crucial part of the investigation…I was hoping you could stay undercover for another two or three months. How bad do you think this problem with Boris Anasenko is going to be?”
“Let’s just say I was fortunate last night to get out of a potentially serious situation,” she replied, curling her lips in distaste as she revisited the scene in the annex. “I’m not going to be so lucky next time, and it will happen again. He wants me and I doubt Yuri will have much influence stopping him, especially if the Melbourne thugs are with him.”
Milton took a sip as he assessed her over the rim. “We’ll have to have something more substantial for the director to justify an immediate extraction. We’re at the crucial part of the investigation, so I can’t just pull you out. We’ll just move earlier than planned. How long do you think before he comes back to the club?”
“He and the mob turn up regularly every two months, though not always on the same day of the week. But next time you can bet it’ll be on a night I’ll be singing. Knowing the mentality of the men in this Russian family, it would have become a matter of pride. He’ll be angry he lost face to a woman.”
“Could you pinpoint the day as it gets closer?”
Pandora thought for a moment then nodded. “I’ll be able to give you a couple of days’ warning. The afternoon of a night’s performance, I go across to the club to run through the program with Kurt. Yuri normally has a coffee with us to give us his instructions for the night. He doesn’t interfere much—just when he wants me to socialize with particular clients or sing a special song for one of his family. Stuff like that. He’s actually a good boss. A day or two before the heavies arrive, he’s always on edge. He starts locking his office every time he steps out and gives his office girl four days off over that period. It’s clear he has something very valuable in the safe to hand over.”
“We know for sure now that the Silver Fox is key to the northern part of the Russian money laundering operations up here in Brisbane, so keep your guard up and continue as is. We’ll discuss what’s going to happen closer to the time.”
He pulled a folder out from beneath a pile of scribbled notes and slid it across the table. “I need you to work here this afternoon. We’ve finally received the photos from the UN and Interpol of the people of interest. Apparently, their targets are camera shy and know how to get off the radar, hence the delay. Very few use commercial flights to enter the country.”
Pandora flipped open the file. Inside was a stack of at least twenty A4 black-and-white snapshots. The top one she recognized immediately—a man in his sixties she’d seen a few times at the club.
“I want you to go through them and take out the ones you know have visited the club. We’ve tracked down most of the syndicate’s northern criminal contacts, but the biggest fish is still out th
ere. Take a look. I’m betting our man…or woman…is amongst them.”
Pandora automatically glanced down at the folder. “You think the person is from overseas?”
“It’s a distinct probability. We can’t find anyone shuffling around really big dollars here,” Milton replied, then leaned forward over the desk. “I want to know how many times you remember seeing them there, plus any other pertinent points you can remember. You know the drill.”
She rubbed the back of her aching neck. “That might be a little difficult for all of them. I’ve been there nearly twelve months.”
Milton gave her a shrewd, considered look. “This is the sort of stuff you do best, Colly. You’ve a good memory, intelligence, and instinct. That why you were picked for this op.” His mouth twitched up into a small smile. “That and the fact you make a great lounge singer.”
With a weak smile, she shuffled the photos back into the folder and rose from the chair. “Yes, sir. I’ll get on to it immediately.”
His next words stopped her mid-stride. “How did you get away from that bastard Boris? You never did say.”
“A woman helped me. A patron at the club. She noticed I was being forcibly detained and that they were closing off the room. She intervened by pouring red wine on my dress, and insisted she take me off to the restroom to clean it off,” she explained, not bothering to keep the pride for Winter out of her voice.
“Good lord. Maybe we should recruit her,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Pandora laughed. “We couldn’t afford her. She’s a corporate lawyer.”
Back in the main office, she settled herself at a desk. Taking her time, she examined each photo thoroughly, siphoning off those she recognized into a separate folder. Some shots were perfectly clear, close enough to show any distinguishing markings. Others were poor quality, grainy or slightly out of focus, though still recognizable. In the end, she had nine people she knew she had seen in the club: eight men and one woman. Then she searched her memories, striving to recall the times she’d seen them there. After two hours, her head began to throb.
