The Final Cut

by Robert Jeffreys

  ‘You two won’t be able to capture him on your own,’ Cardilini said.

  Michael nodded again. ‘There are not just the two of us. You can follow us but you will need to stay at the hotel from now until we’re gone.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

  Saturday, 4 December 1965

  4 p.m.

  Cardilini spent the day at the Adelphi Hotel, most of the time with two other members of the team, Adir and Vadim. There were six in total: Michael, Bathseva, Taavi, Rab, Adir and Vadim. The four young men were either soldiers or ex-military, all born in the 1940s, all different personalities, but with a doggedness and a familiarity with each other that suggested they had worked together for some time.

  Only Michael would answer his questions, or more often ignore them; the others would look at him apologetically and shake their heads. Lunch was eaten in Michael’s room, and the six shifted between English and Hebrew. Michael was their leader and all conversations stopped whenever he spoke. After lunch, Adir and Vadim left to do a reconnaissance of the Gnangara Road property.

  ***

  Around 4 p.m., Adir and Vadim returned to the hotel. Cardilini was escorted by Bathseva to Michael’s room, where the team sat and examined a diagram of the farm and surrounding roads: the caravan, barn, house, tank stands, fences, trees and the parking spot. Cardilini pointed out that the ground between the trees was littered with leaves and twigs, which were difficult to walk upon without making a noise. He told them how vehicles could easily be heard and how the dust was visible on the dirt access road.

  Michael asked him about the barn doors; about power lines to the barn or caravan; about lights, windows and locks; and about the house. Cardilini mentioned the squeaking fly-screen door and the front rooms overlooking the driveway. He told them how the fading sunlight created patches of darkness, and where the areas of illumination were created by artificial light once the sun set.

  Michael conferred with his team in Hebrew, then politely thanked Cardilini. Bathseva asked if he would follow her and they returned to Adir and Vadim’s room. They sat opposite each other in two club chairs.

  ‘Have you done this many times before?’ Cardilini asked her.

  Bathseva nodded.

  ‘What about the rest of the team, are they experienced?’

  ‘Of course.’ She dismissed his question about their successes but told him they knew of his. She gave a brief smile at his surprise that they had him on file. ‘Oh yes, without that, you wouldn’t be here now. Without what you did during and after the war you never would have received a return phone call.’

  Cardilini shook his head. The war. Again. ‘But why are you doing this?’

  She raised her sleeve and slowly turned her wrist. Cardilini saw a series of numbers tattooed on her inner forearm. He closed his eyes as a wave of dread swept over him; he fought at it and sighed deeply.

  She looked at him, stony faced. ‘A child. Auschwitz.’ She let that information settle. Cardilini nodded. He hadn’t been there but had heard the stories first-hand and seen the images.

  ‘My real name is Marian,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll get these bastards, Marian, I promise.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

  Saturday, 4 December 1965

  8.30 p.m.

  The team assembled a safe distance from the property under over-hanging branches, in shadow cast by the rising moon. Adir had just returned after being sent forwards an hour previously to observe the comings and goings. He now whispered to Michael, who looked hard and long at each of them before giving the slightest nod. They set out along the dark at the side of the road, following it towards the farm and an open paddock. The paddock, sparse and a shimmering grey in the moonlight, floated beside the house and barn.

  Cardilini was under strict instructions to stay out of the way and keep his head down. He stood behind in the darkness. Taani and Rab carried tranquilliser guns slung across their backs. Marian stopped on instruction from Michael and stepped back to where Cardilini was standing.

  ‘There are four males – two at the cameras, and then Ricker and Abraham,’ she whispered.

  Cardilini could feel the throbbing pulse in his neck. He opened and closed his hands, bunching his fists tightly. This monster and Abraham were within their grasp.

  ‘You and I will return to get the cars when required,’ she whispered close to his ear.

  ‘What about Melody?’ he asked her.

  ‘She’s not there yet, but there’s another girl.’

  ‘Another girl?’ Cardilini ran through all the information they’d gathered, trying to think of who it could be.

  ‘We will wait a bit longer,’ Marian said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To make sure there is no one else coming. Then we wait for Michael’s signal.’

  Without a sound, Michael and the four young men began to move forwards. Cardilini lost their forms as they traversed the tree line at the side of the fence. Then he saw two figures appear at the rear of the house: Vadim and Rab. Darkness around the barn concealed Michael, Adir and Taani. When Vadim was sure no one was in the house, he and Rab would join Michael and the others. Cardilini fingered his matchbox and patted his coat for his cigarettes. Fifteen minutes passed, during which several barked instructions penetrated the night, giving both he and Marian a start.

  ‘It’s German, he’s instructing on the lighting,’ Marian whispered.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ricker,’ she said. Cardilini heard the venom in her voice.

  To Cardilini, Ricker was a possible serial killer whom Cardilini could never bring to justice in Australia. To Michael, Marian and the young men, he was a mass murderer and war criminal they had been chasing for twenty years.

  The first objective was for Rab to tranquillise Ricker. Taani was to fulfill that task should Rab fail. Then they would focus on the two cameramen. The cameramen were also Ricker’s bodyguards, and it was assumed they were armed. They were Taani’s targets after Ricker was down.

  Earlier, Cardilini saw Michael and Adir check their pistols. There had been no discussion of weapons. Ricker and the two bodyguards represented too much to be killed in Australia. They had to face trial and be punished. Once captured, they’d be flying out that night on a freight aircraft bound for Israel. Cardilini was to arrest Daniel Abraham once their aircraft was over international waters. Cardilini knew he didn’t have a say in their plans, he knew he would probably be tranquillised himself and stuffed in a cupboard should he create any obstacles. He didn’t. He agreed he would get Abraham and save Melody. And he’d decided he would contact Spencer so she could be in on the arrest. For now, he waited patiently in the shadows.

  Suddenly there was a scream, an anguished voice. ‘Nooo!’ An image of Spencer flashed before his eyes. He bolted, the night rushed at him. Mouth open, eyes wide, he pumped his legs. The opening between the barn and house jolted about in his vision. Another scream: energy burst within him; he saw a shadow separate itself from the side of the barn; he dropped his shoulder and charged. There was a thump as Cardilini’s shoulder struck. He felt the wind knocked from him, then heard a crack as the figure he hit, one of the young soldiers, smacked up against the timbers of the barn. Cardilini headed for the small barn door. He hit that with his other shoulder and it burst open. Light assailed his eyes; he fought for focus. In front of him, a thin man, eyes wide, was beginning to stand in front of a chair. Spencer, her head strained to the side, stared at Cardilini as he ran, roaring gutturally, towards the man. Cardilini saw the scalpel come up, then felt a thud on his chest. With his arms wide he encircled the man and dropped on top of him, pinning him to the floor. He felt more thuds rain down on his back as the man screamed in German. Cardilini managed to free his arms and grabbed the man’s wrist. He then swung his left elbow at the side of the man’s head and saw it topple like the head of a puppet. He brought his el
bow back to repeat the blow. Then there was a sharp pain and he felt as if an immense black curtain was being lowered upon him. He fought it in his mind, but control seeped from him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  Sunday, 5 December 1965

  6.30 p.m.

  He could hear voices. Voices he recognised but couldn’t identify. He started to move but a searing pain in his back thwarted him. The voices continued. He raised his hand and forced reluctant eyes to open. Blinking several times, he went to wipe his eyes but his hand flopped onto his chest. He blinked furiously, trying to focus. He saw a doorway framing figures talking. He tried to speak but the sound caught in his throat. He made out familiar faces staring down at him, still talking. Finally he saw a face he knew.

  ‘Paul,’ he croaked. The two figures in front parted and his son drew closer.

  ‘Are you okay, Dad?’

  ‘Bit sore.’

  This brought laughter.

  ‘Someone used your back as a pin cushion.’ He heard more laughter.

  Cardilini, confused, looked around him. He was in a bed in a room. ‘Am I in hospital?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Paul patted his father’s hand and turned to the figures behind him.

  ‘Robinson,’ Cardilini blurted as he recognised him. ‘What are you doing here? What happened?’

  ‘You’re not dead, and you’re not going to die, so that’s good. And we got the bastards.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Daniel Abraham and two of his mates.’

  ‘The cameramen?’ Cardilini asked.

  Robinson laughed at Cardilini’s obvious confusion. ‘No, not cameramen, just garden variety thugs.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Last night. The federal police tipped us off. Lucky. You’d collapsed. But Spencer is …’

  Cardilini could make no sense of it. ‘How is she?’

  Robinson looked to the figure beside him. It was Police Commissioner Warren. ‘She’s with the docs,’ Robinson replied. ‘She’ll live,’ he added, half-smiling, half-frowning.

  Warren came closer. ‘Well done, Cardilini. That detective inspector status Robinson mentioned is being backdated to last month. Just so you know. In case you’re asked.’ He took Cardilini’s limp hand and squeezed it.

  Cardilini turned to Robinson for an explanation. Robinson shrugged. Paul stepped forward and Warren shuffled back.

  ‘You have to rest, Dad. The matron said so.’

  ‘Spencer?’ he asked Paul. Paul nodded encouragingly. ‘Just rest, Dad. Then you can see her.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  Monday, 6 December 1965

  1 a.m.

  It was dark when he opened his eyes. Instantly he was fully alert. Paul? Spencer? Melody? He pushed himself up but then slumped back down. Something had its claws in his back. He reached out with his right hand for a switch, then his left.

  ‘Nurse. Nurse.’

  The light snapped on, Cardilini shielded his eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ a brusque voice asked.

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Are you hungry?’ A nurse peered at Cardilini.

  ‘No. Yes.’

  ‘Well, which is it?’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Cardilini said. ‘Detective Constable Spencer, is she okay?’

  The nursed fussed at his side table and tidied his bedspread.

  Cardilini spoke louder, ‘Detective Spencer? I think she’s in the hospital. Have you heard of her?’ The nurse reached for his wrist, but Cardilini pulled it away. ‘Is she in this hospital?’ he demanded.

  ‘I can’t know everybody,’ she said and turned from the room. ‘I’ll see if there is anything for you to eat.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Cardilini rolled onto his side and swung his legs around so he could sit on the side of the bed. He pulled the drip from his arm, pushed himself up from the bed and started for the door. But his legs became rigid and he found himself marooned. He willed his legs to respond and managed to stumble to the door. Awkwardly, he moved along the corridor, one hand holding onto the wall. A young nurse with bobbed brown hair and large brown eyes stood at the nurse’s station.

  ‘You shouldn’t be out of bed. You’ll open up your stitches.’

  ‘I want a bloody phone.’ Cardilini saw a phone on the nurse’s desk. ‘Police business.’

  ‘You can’t ring out on that …’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘… unless you dial one,’ she finished.

  Cardilini nodded his appreciation. ‘What time is it?’ he said as he dialled.

  ‘It’s one in the morning.’

  ‘Damn.’ Cardilini put down the phone and turned to the nurse.

  ‘Detective Constable Lorraine Spencer, have you heard of her?’

  ‘Of course. Ward F. Room …’ She pointed to a pair of doors down the corridor.

  ‘Have you seen her?’ Cardilini asked.

  The nurse looked back with a grimace.

  ‘What? Tell me?’

  ‘We’re not supposed to say anything. She’s not well. She’s been sedated. She’s sleeping.’ The nurse shook her head, her large eyes imploring Cardilini. ‘You’re not supposed to get out of bed, you’ll open up the stitches.’

  ‘You said that already. Tell me, she’s my partner.’

  ‘We know. You were with her, that’s how you got all the … Please, will you go back to bed?’

  ‘Not until you tell me, or I will go and wake her up.’ It may have been the threat or the concern in his voice, but the nurse relented.

  ‘Something happened …’ She looked nervously down the corridor. ‘You must promise you won’t say who told you.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘She’s not well, she screams continuously when she’s not sedated.’

  Cardilini stared back at her, not understanding.

  ‘They’re going to take her to Graylands Mental Hospital.’

  Cardilini wavered and then collapsed against the counter. The nurse got him a chair and he sat, immobile. When he’d recovered, he implored her again to take him to Spencer. She explained that she couldn’t. It wasn’t allowed. Cardilini pushed himself from his chair and started for the doors leading to Ward F.

  ‘No, no,’ the nurse said, grabbing at his arm. He pulled it away and stumbled down the corridor. ‘I’ll call the matron. You must stop!’ Again, she grabbed at his arm and planted her feet to hold him back. He gently removed her fingers and continued. ‘I’m calling the matron,’ echoed down the corridor as he pushed through the doors.

  The corridor was dimly lit. He strained to see room numbers. At room 4, he turned the knob and pushed open the door. Suddenly, fingers encircled his wrist. It was the nurse again.

  ‘I’ll take you,’ she said and guided him gently down the corridor. She opened the door to room 18 and stood aside.

  Spencer lay in bed asleep, her red hair a halo around her face.

  ‘She looks so peaceful,’ Cardilini said. ‘You sure about what you told me?’

  The nurse nodded. Spencer’s arms were out from the covers by her side. The nurse stepped forwards and gently wiped moisture from her mouth.

  Cardilini picked up her hand and held it.

  ‘She’s very beautiful,’ the nurse said.

  Cardilini nodded.

  ‘Her husband hasn’t come in.’

  ‘She’s not married.’

  ‘No family has come in.’

  ‘Spencer,’ he whispered. ‘It’s going to be okay. We’ll do it just the way you want. Just get better. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ He continued to gently stroke her hand. ‘They got him. We got him. We finished it. And it wouldn’t have happened without you. I wouldn’t have known where to start. Please, Spencer. You must come back. Come
back and I’ll never let you out of my sight.’

  The nurse turned her sad eyes to Cardilini and wiped away a tear.

  ‘Spencer, come back. Please.’

  ***

  The next morning, Robinson visited and broke the news to Cardilini about Melody and Archie Cooper. Paul was there in the hospital ward too but neither could fully understand Cardilini’s reaction. His face opened in disbelief, he put his head back and roared like a bull, then leapt from the bed. It took Paul, Robinson and two nurses to get him back to his bed, where he was sedated and the drip reinserted. Paul held him, consoling and soothing him. He’d seen this before, heard this before, twelve months earlier, only this time his father didn’t push him away.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  Wednesday, 15 December 1965

  10.30 a.m.

  Cardilini looked around his hospital room. He hadn’t been allowed to leave until the stitches in his back had been removed. Finally, after two of the longest weeks of his life, that had happened.

  ‘You got everything?’ Paul asked.

  ‘I think so.’

  Cardilini stopped at the nurses’ station on the way out. The young nurse who had allowed him into Spencer’s room wasn’t there but he thanked the two who were. The ward was festively decorated for the silly season. Streamers, Santa hats, trees bedecked with baubles and fake wrapped presents in piles brought some cheer to an otherwise very serious place.

  ‘You should marry a nurse,’ Cardilini told his son as they walked down the corridor.

  ‘Okay, Dad.’ Outside, it was a glorious summer’s day. They made their way slowly to the car. ‘Robinson said you don’t have to go into work just yet. Why not stay home for a bit? I’ll look after you.’ They got in the car and sat in silence. Cardilini stared straight ahead.

  ‘Why don’t we just go home,’ Paul said. ‘Maybe you’re not ready to go back to work.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go home,’ Cardilini said.

  ***

  Late that night the phone rang. Paul answered it and walked to the sleep-out to wake his father.