Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing

by Lord, Gabrielle

  Gemma remembered immediately. ‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘The door handle MO. So it was him. Something happened and he got active again.’

  ‘His missus probably left him,’ Angie suggested.

  ‘And now he’s on the loose again.’

  ‘Or he was doing ten years for something similar,’ said Angie. ‘Did Ric get anything off the clothes you were wearing the night you were attacked?’

  ‘It was a negative,’ Gemma said.

  Angie rang off.

  ‘Okay,’ said Mike. ‘Feel like ringing George Fayed?’

  ‘You said that number wouldn’t work,’ said Gemma.

  ‘I’ve picked up the frequency of his new one.’

  ‘What can I deal with?’ Gemma asked. ‘We haven’t got anything.’

  Mike picked up his phone and handed it to her. ‘Use mine. Tell him if he doesn’t let Steve walk out of there his status as a registered informant will be circulated to his friends. There are a couple of men serving life sentences who will be very interested to discover who betrayed them.’

  Gemma was stunned. ‘George Fayed?’

  Mike nodded. ‘He’s been passing on information about the Chinese to ASIO for a couple of years. Don’t ask me how I know this and you didn’t hear it from me.’

  One of the country’s most unsavoury and powerful crims, Gemma thought, has been in bed with the Australian Security and Intelligence Organisation all this time. Slowly, she took Mike’s mobile and keyed the numbers. She didn’t have to wait long. Almost immediately, the phone was answered; a man’s guarded voice.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘George Fayed?’ Gemma asked.

  The voice changed. ‘Who is this?’

  You’d better hear me real good, she thought, because I’m going to bring you down, George Fayed.

  ‘My name is Gemma Lincoln,’ she said. ‘You’re holding an acquaintance of mine.’ She paused, listening to the silence humming between them. ‘And I’ve got a deal you might consider,’ she continued. The silence continued until she spoke again. ‘I’m a licensed private investigator and we know you are holding a man inside your house.’ Again, he said nothing. It was unnerving, she realised, to have her voice just sink into nothing like this. ‘Are you there?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘What’s this deal you’re talking about?’

  ‘You give me back Steve Brannigan,’ she said, ‘immediately. He comes out of your place in good health.’ She paused. ‘If that doesn’t happen, not only will your house be raided by the State Protection Group and you will be charged with kidnap and attempted murder’—she paused herself, for effect—‘but also files demonstrating your status as a registered police informant will be copied and sent out to interested parties.’

  She heard the shocked intake of breath. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the voice. But he was rattled.

  ‘I know Steve Brannigan is in your house.’

  Let your paranoia feed, George Fayed, she prayed. Are you looking around, wondering which of your lieutenants has betrayed you? Let’s destabilise your empire, she thought. ‘You’ve got a spy in your camp,’ said Gemma.

  The long silence continued. Gemma could just hear what sounded like whispered consultations going on, away from the phone line. Cop that, you bastard, Gemma thought. Is it you? Is it you? she imagined Fayed thinking, as he looked around. Her spirits had lifted enormously in the last five minutes. Now she had the power. She had the negotiating upper hand. She could almost feel the drug lord’s mind ticking over, working out his position.

  ‘Listen, you little bitch. You’ve got nothing to deal with. If I see as much as a probationary constable anywhere near my house, your friend dies of an overdose. I found him lying on the street and had the goodness to pick him up and put him to bed while I found out who he is. I’ve got witnesses who can testify to his growing drug habit.’

  Gemma could hear her heartbeat pounding in her head. Shock dried her mouth. She found she couldn’t swallow. This was not how it was supposed to work out.

  ‘If you do anything to move on me, he’ll be dead—by his own hand.’ Fayed stressed the last few words. ‘So call it off now,’ he said. ‘Or your friend dies like the dog he is.’

  The line suddenly cut out.

  Gemma stared ahead sightlessly. ‘Oh Jesus,’ she whispered, ‘what have I done?’

  ‘What happened?’ Mike asked.

  The seeming safety of the dim garage suddenly felt like the dark chill of the tomb, the dull glow of the van’s interior light funereal and threatening.

  ‘What happened?’ Mike repeated. Outside the storm raged while Gemma told him.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘this is a gambit. He can’t win this round. It’s foolproof. If he’s exposed as an informant, he’s finished. He wouldn’t dare kill Steve.’

  ‘He’s killed other people and never even been charged,’ Gemma said. ‘He could do it. He could get away with it. And he knows it.’

  ‘But not a cop,’ Mike added. ‘He wouldn’t do this.’

  Gemma swung round to him. ‘How can you be so sure? You’re just saying that to make me feel better.’

  ‘I believe he’ll do what we want,’ Mike said. ‘This is just a gambit while he plans a way out. Steve’s going to be okay. He’s going to have to give him up or be exposed.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Gemma said, her hand shaking as she picked up her mobile. ‘He’s got nothing to lose! If he’s to be exposed as an informant, what’s another dead man to him? I have to call the raid off.’

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone started to ring.

  ‘Hullo?’ she said.

  ‘It’s the cavalry,’ said Angie. ‘As soon as the briefing is over we’re on our way!’

  Gemma panicked. ‘No, no!’ she screamed down the phone. ‘You can’t! You mustn’t. Fayed’s threatened to kill Steve the second there’s any hint of a police raid. Please, tell them to back off!’

  ‘I’ll tell them,’ said Angie, ‘but you can’t expect them to do it. Eventually they’ll have to go in after Steve. Ian Lovelock received a coded signal from him saying he was in strife and would ring again. When he didn’t, Ian reported it and we’re treating it as a Signal One.’

  ‘But Fayed will kill him!’

  ‘Gemster, we’ve got to move! This is kidnapping. This is very serious.’

  ‘You bet it’s serious!’ Gemma screamed. ‘Tell them what Fayed told me,’ she begged. ‘Steve will die if he sees anything like police activity.’ Gemma felt desperate. ‘At least get them to wait till Mike transmits the layout of Fayed’s place. Tell them they can’t act without that sort of refined intelligence.’

  Angie lowered her voice. ‘I’ll do my best, but you should know there are people higher up in the job who think that something like this is just what they need. They’ll get increased funding, more press coverage. More get tough on drug barons bullshit.’

  ‘Angie I’m talking about Steve’s life! Not some goddamn PR operation for the brass to wank over.’

  ‘Girl, I know it. I’m just passing on what I hear. You know how stupid some of those clowns are!’

  ‘Call them off. Right now!’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ repeated Angie.

  ‘No!’ shouted Gemma. But it was too late. Angie was gone. ‘God, Mike. What am I going to do?’

  ‘Ring Fayed again,’ urged Mike. ‘Tell him we’ll do everything he wants. Calm the whole situation down a few notches. He can’t win. It’s only a matter of time before he sees that.’

  ‘Steve could be dead before he does!’ Gemma made a decision. All the fear and frustration in her mind and body suddenly coalesced and her resolution not only seemed possible, but also the only direction to take. ‘I know what has to be done,’
she said. ‘I’m going in myself.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ said Mike. ‘What the hell do you think you can do by yourself in there?’ Almost without a pause he added, ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I need you on the outside. You told me how you can translate—demodulate the radio frequencies,’ she said. ‘Okay. Start demodulating right now. Get me the code for that metal roller door.’

  ‘You’ll just end up in the same mess as Steve,’ said Mike. ‘At least wait until the SPG people get here.’

  ‘I’ve got to get him out before any SPG operation,’ said Gemma. ‘Or Steve dies.’

  ‘Let the experts do their job, Gemma,’ Mike said. ‘They’ll get him out.’

  ‘Experts? There’s no time!’ Her voice was almost inaudible. ‘Do you know how long it takes to depress a plunger full of heroin into someone’s arm?’ she asked. ‘Death is almost instantaneous.’

  She couldn’t bear hearing her own words. She jumped out of the van and walked around it, stretching cramped legs and back, needing to move, to pace, to plan. How could it all have gone so terribly wrong? Why hadn’t she thought of a Naltrexone implant for Steve earlier? Why didn’t he think of it himself? How could Fayed have turned what seemed to be their unassailable position of strength into a threat, and one that was only too easily carried out? The questions whirled in her mind as the storm seemed to gather strength. He’d get away with this murder as he’d got away with others. He didn’t have to deal with other criminals like the Litchfield family. He didn’t have to make alliances at all. Was it possible he was big enough and powerful enough to crush any other rival, even if he were exposed as a police dog?

  She returned to the van.

  ‘I have to go in,’ she told Mike. ‘At least that way, I can get to Steve. There’s a chance I can get him out safely.’ She turned to him. ‘If I can’t . . .’ Her voice faltered. Naltrexone might defend her against the effects of a hit, but it was no magic shield. If the dose of heroin was large enough, it would depress her system and kill her. It would be the end of her life and Steve’s too. She didn’t want to think about their two bodies lying in Fayed’s fortress. But maybe that’s what it would take to bring Fayed down.

  ‘What I mean is that with two of us found overdosed,’ she said, ‘Fayed’s far less likely to get off a murder charge. One death might be “accidental”. But two deaths is evidence in a successful murder trial.’

  ‘Noble but crazy,’ said Mike. He looked up from the screen of his laptop. ‘Listen, Gemma, if you’re determined to go in, I must go in with you. The second you operate that door code, they’re going to come after you.’

  ‘That’s why you must stay here. I need you to create a diversion to cover me. Something that won’t endanger Steve.’

  ‘Anything I do could be dangerous,’ Mike said. ‘You know Fayed’s paranoia.’

  ‘The storm,’ she said. ‘Make it look like the storm is interfering with his security system. Can you blank out his screens for a while from out here?’

  Mike looked as if he was about to argue with her, but he agreed. ‘Okay. It’s crazy but it’s worth a try. Let’s have a closer look at the layout.’

  So now she was crouched down on the floor of the passenger seat with Mike in the driver’s seat, the Glock sitting in the small of her back. She hardly dared breathe. She and Mike had roughed out a map of the internal layout, matching up the doorways and the corridors, using the furnishings as navaids and landmarks. They had studied the changing views until Gemma felt she had some understanding of where Steve was in relation to the rest of the space.

  ‘That room where Steve is,’ said Mike, ‘doesn’t appear to be up with the living areas. My bet is that it’s underneath the second and third storey, at street level, with the parking area and the machine shop. The flooring looks to be the same substance—heavy-duty cement with some sort of finish.’

  Gemma listened to the rain on the roof of the garage.

  ‘We have to move now,’ she said. ‘The storm will start losing intensity.’

  Mike started the engine and Gemma swallowed hard. He had given her the numerical code to the roller door in case she needed it again and the numbers were branded in her memory. She swayed a little as the van turned out of the garage, slowly making its way back towards Fayed’s huge bunker. Mike turned the corner, and parked the van out of the sight line of the fortress building.

  ‘The next big lightning strike,’ he said, ‘I’m going to use a broadband video jammer. I can splatter the bastards with a noise attack every time there’s lightning. Their security screens will go scrambled eggs. Pray that they think it’s connected to the storm. But I can only make it last a few seconds, otherwise they’ll get suspicious. So you’ll have to get in fast and move around fast with every crash of thunder. Then presume that all the cameras are live again. We don’t want them thinking there’s more than electrical interference involved. Okay? You’ve got a few seconds after the lightning flashes. It’s not much, but if you can move fast, you’ve got a chance.’

  He pulled out and drove slowly down the street as if he were going to drive right past, but at the last moment, slowed briefly.

  ‘The minute you see I’ve got Steve safe,’ Gemma said, ‘start sending a live feed of what’s going on in this place to the police Intranet, attention Ian Lovelock.’

  She slid the door of the van open. Rain chilled her face and Mike touched her arm.

  ‘I’d say break a leg,’ he said ‘but you’ve already done that.’

  Gemma jumped at the next rolling peal of thunder and flattened against a wall, cold, wet and scared stiff, watching the tail lights of the van disappearing. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of Steve lying in there, already doped to the eyeballs. She heard the rumbling of the metal roller door and silently blessed Mike. As soon as it was opened sufficiently, she rolled under it. Already, it was descending again and she prayed that Mike had crashed their screens for that moment. She crawled through the dim garage, ducking behind one of several black Mercedes. The roller door was home again. She crouched, keeping in the shadows, between the three parked cars. Cautiously, she made her way to the small partly enclosed machine shop at the right-hand back wall of the underground parking area. She hunched near the door, knowing that there was a camera angle that picked up this area, waiting for the thunderclap that would give her a little free time to move.

  She could hear footsteps. Gemma closed her eyes in dismay. It didn’t work, she thought. They know I’m here. She flattened herself in the dim corner, willing herself invisible. The footsteps were louder now as the two men ran into the parking area. Too scared to move, Gemma listened. Were they searching for her, moving from one area to the next, finally coming in here, to find her shaking with fear near the workshop?

  She waited. Then she heard the sound of car doors slamming, the rumble of the roller door as it went up. She breathed a sigh of relief. A black Mercedes drove out, leaving the stink of engine and hot metal behind. She heard it take off in the same direction as the van and prayed that Mike had taken the necessary evasive action and hidden both himself and the van with its precious documentation of the Fayed family’s domestic epicentre.

  Now she tried to orient herself. Mike had thought the room in which Steve lay was further underneath the house, to the left of the roller door, in the bowels of the building on this level. Pressing herself against the walls, and desperately trying to remember the camera angles and how to avoid them, Gemma eased her way out along the back wall. She crawled along in the semi-darkness until she came to a security gate. She pressed the same numbers Mike had demodulated for the garage. Nothing happened for a second, then she was rewarded by an electronic hum and the sound of the gate unlocking. She pressed it open, trying to keep as close to the wall as possible, remembering the bank of monitors somewhere upstairs, and the man who sa
t under them, keeping an eye on the inner and outer worlds of George Fayed.

  She was in a narrow corridor, lit only with a weak naked globe hanging from the ceiling a little way ahead of her. On her right was what seemed to be a wall of black glass. She was reminded uncomfortably of the black faceted meteorite of her nightmare. She tried to look through its shiny surface, but all she could see was her own outline, and the edges of her face reflected. She moved past the black window towards a lit area further down the corridor. Her mouth had become very dry and she didn’t know if it was because of the action of the Naltrexone in her system or the fear that seemed to bang her heartbeat through her head. She strained to listen for any clue, or sound that might let her know where Steve was. Upstairs, she heard the scraping of a chair. Then she heard the clatter of boots on polished floors. She pressed up against the wall, and the hard edges of the Glock were a comfort. The sound of running was getting louder. It was too late to concern herself with being cautious, Gemma realised. Already, they must have seen her on the interior cameras. She broke into a run, crashing down the hall, aiming for the relatively open space of the underground garage and the machine shop where there was some cover.

  But the security door she’d previously opened was closed, and no longer responded to her keyed-in digits. She swore, not knowing what to do. Lie low somewhere, she thought. Keeping low, and praying that the cameras would miss her, she pressed onwards until she came to a closed door. This door had a conventional door and handle. Maybe a storage area, she thought. Slowly, she turned the handle. It wasn’t locked. She peered in. The heat and the smell hit her in the face the second the door opened and she bit back a scream. Shit! She’d almost walked into George Fayed’s snake room. For a split second, Gemma was paralysed. Dozens of glittering eyes targeted her. Heads raised, they twined, some escaping, some darting forward until she’d slammed the door shut. She recalled the puzzling heat map that had glowed on Mike’s screen in the van. Had it been a heat picture of the snakes?