by Alex Hammond
They turned up William Street and pulled over almost as soon as they’d rounded the corner.
‘We’re here,’ Will said to the back seat.
The irony was not lost on him that the Office of Public Prosecutions was at the very fringe of the legal district, edged away from a position closer to the courts by solicitors’ chambers, private practices and glass-fronted firms. It occupied a grey high-rise, its title and coat of arms discreetly etched onto the glass panels above its recessed sliding doors.
On the street outside the building, reporters had gathered.
‘Why are the press here?’ Eloise asked, wide-eyed in the seat behind him.
‘Chris did it. But it’s okay. We have a plan. We’ll get you in without them noticing.’
Will slipped the driver his credit card as the others rummaged in their handbags and backpacks for sunglasses.
‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘You’ll be more conspicuous with those on.’
Eva paid no attention to him, the large glasses partly obscuring the scars on her face.
‘Your plan?’ she asked.
Will tapped his phone and sent a message. A few moments later they watched as Chris Miller emerged from a small cafe opposite the building. He was dressed in an Armani three-piece suit, under which he wore a white cotton shirt with a starched Italian collar and French cuffs. His tie was blood red, for battle. As soon as they saw Miller, the press mobbed him.
‘Now we enter,’ Will said.
They stepped out of the cab and crossed the street, heading to the access ramp to the side of the main stairs, while Miller stood outside and answered questions.
‘I’m expecting we can clarify the matter today and save the people of Melbourne the expense of a trial altogether,’ he said, replying to a question about what he was hoping to achieve.
Another journalist asked him what he believed was the cause of Mark Eldon’s death.
‘What I will say was that Mark was a good friend and a great footballer. I’m here to set the record straight. We need to give his family the opportunity to grieve away from the media spotlight.’
Will held open the door while the three women walked into the office. Petra de Marco made eye contact with him from the crowd and nodded in his direction.
‘Will you be representing yourself, Mr Miller?’ De Marco asked.
‘No, Petra. I won’t be representing myself. That would be too glib for what is a serious matter that needs to be addressed clearly and without theatrics. Mark’s family, myself, the people of Melbourne deserve that at least.’ Miller held up his hand as several more questions were called from the reporters. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that’s all I have time for today.’
Miller jogged up the stairs towards Will. They walked into the lobby and over to their small group.
‘Thanks, everyone, for coming down. I know it’s a bit daunting, talking to the police. Especially when there have been threats made. I really appreciate it.’ He was greeted by brave smiles and an expressionless Eva.
‘We’re upstairs in one of the conference rooms,’ Will said, and led them to the lift. As they watched the numbers illuminate their progress to the seventh floor, Will leant over to Miller.
‘Interesting day to power dress.’
‘This is my don’t-fuck-with-me suit,’ he said back over his shoulder.
‘Well, I’m wearing my please-ignore-my-partner’s-over-the-top-power-suit suit.’
‘So we’re all good, then. Should balance it out.’
‘Apparently so. Seriously, though, don’t provoke them. The plan is to shut this down today, so we need to keep things civil. Give them a reason to fight us and they’ll dig in.’
The doors opened and they followed the corridor to more doors with the coat of arms – a balanced scale – engraved onto frosted glass. At the small reception, Will announced their arrival. The secretary picked up the phone and made a call, asking them to take a seat.
Miller nodded to a corner occupied by a ficus and Will walked over to it with him.
‘What’s up?’ Will asked.
‘Strange thing happened the other day when I called up the Smithsonian.’
‘I thought you said that you were going to leave that investigation alone until you were out of this mess?’
‘I lied. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that I wasn’t the only Australian who’d recently been in contact. How is Quayle going anyway?’
‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t look into it.’
‘How far did he get?’
‘Sounds like you got a fair way yourself.’
Miller smirked. ‘I may not be a solicitor but I am capable of researching a thing or two when the impulse arises. What about Quayle?’
‘The Covenant exists. Eldon’s ancestor was Edward Hawk, its founder.’
‘Fuck. This is some heavy shit.’
‘But I think there’s something else, that thing that’s been bugging me.’
‘The bigger picture? The capital crime?’
‘It’s a long shot, but Hawk’s group started within the New South Wales Corps trading contraband in Port Jackson while placing themselves outside the rule of law. Later they popped up again in Melbourne with connections to the British East India Company importing opium from China. The men who attacked me were stationed in Afghanistan. I think there’s a drug connection. I think it’s heroin.’
‘That’s a stretch.’
‘It is.’
‘When were you going to tell me you’d heard back from Quayle? I can’t believe you’re hiding things from me.’
Will pushed down his desire to argue the point. He could sense Miller was already primed to call him a hypocrite.
‘I didn’t want to distract you from our meeting today. I can give you the research when we get back to the office.’
‘But this stuff – the Covenant, Eldon – is relevant to our meeting.’
‘None of it meets an evidentiary standard. We need more than wild speculation.’
‘Isn’t that exactly what we’re about to go and argue?’
‘We can’t bring the Covenant into it. We’ll stick with the contradictory witness statements.’
‘Fine. Agreed.’
Miller straightened his tie and looked over towards Eloise and Leah. His eyes narrowed and he turned back to Will.
‘Anything else you’re keeping from me?’
‘Let’s focus on this, okay?’
Miller scowled and shook his head. ‘Deflection. What are you up to, Will?’
‘Mr Miller. Mr Harris,’ came a voice from behind them.
Detective Gray stood with his hands in his pockets, looking like a man from an earlier decade with a side part, tweed jacket and pleated tan trousers. His eyes darted over the faces of the group before him, his brow twitching with mental calculations. Next to him was a balding, gull-eyed prosecutor whose doughy body seemed to press at the limits of his black suit.
‘I’d like to you meet Geoffrey Muler.’
Will reached forwards to shake his hand. ‘We’ve met before.’ Muler took it and nodded.
‘Mr Muler is here on behalf of the DPP to assist with any legal considerations.’
‘And these women are?’
‘Witnesses who’ve signed sworn affidavits that contradict the evidence being presented by the police.’
Gray cocked his head. ‘Would they mind sitting outside while we talk?’
‘No problem,’ said Miller.
‘We have a conference room booked,’ said Gray, pointing to a door beyond the cluster of chairs.
Eva leant in towards Will. ‘I’ll wait with them here,’ she said.
As Miller, Gray and Muler moved into the room, Will paused beside her. ‘Are you sure? We might be a while.’
‘I promised Eloise I’d stay.’
More frosted glass partitioned the meeting room from the reception. Once inside, Will and Miller sat around a scratched oval table, its polished surface reflecting the
red feature wall behind them. A conference call microphone was set up in the centre of the table, and from it ran a tangle of cables that were stuck to the carpet with gaffer tape.
Muler and Gray opened identical folders and sat opposite them.
‘So who’s outside?’ Muler asked.
‘Susan Ferguson and Leah White,’ said Will.
‘Let’s not get sidetracked with that now,’ Miller said.
‘But that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’ Muler said. ‘You’re here to refute the evidence before we even front up at the mention, let alone the hearing.’
‘We’d be happy to push through and go to the hearing,’ Will said, ‘but we honestly believe that the evidence is not of sufficient weight to support a conviction of negligent manslaughter. We can prima facie show that your evidence is too thin to prove that Mr Miller’s actions caused the death of Mark Eldon.’
Muler looked down at the papers in front of him. ‘We would strongly disagree. We have a compelling line of evidence that shows negligent manslaughter. We have CCTV footage of Mr Miller leaving Mark Eldon’s apartment at fourteen minutes past five on Friday the eighteenth of October. The pathologist’s report indicates that Eldon would have been in renal failure at the time of Mr Miller’s departure, before Eldon finally expired at seventeen minutes past five. That’s documented forensically with video.’
‘You’re forgetting Eloise,’ Miller said.
‘Who?’ asked Muler.
‘He’s referring to Susan Ferguson. Eloise is her preferred name, but not her legal one,’ Will said. ‘Ms Ferguson was with Mr Miller when he visited Eldon in his Southbank apartment.’
Muler looked at Gray, who nodded.
‘The young woman is in the video. Although I only met Ms Ferguson just now, she does appear to be that some woman. We’ve been looking for her for a little while now. She flew with Mr Miller to Port Douglas.’
‘So why didn’t she come forward until now?’ Muler asked.
‘Personal reasons,’ said Miller. ‘The point is she is here, and her statement contradicts the claim that Eldon was having a seizure at the time you allege.’
‘What is troubling me is that this woman disappears during the police investigation only to pop up, having no doubt been briefed by yourselves, and contradicts the evidence of the forensic pathologist. How do you explain that?’
Will held his hand up to Miller who was starting to lean forwards across the table. Miller ignored him.
‘We’d recommend that someone take another look at that pathologist’s report. Review it, because it’s not correct.’
‘What are you trying to suggest? That it was tampered with?’ Muler sniggered.
‘Yes, that’s exactly —’
Will cut Miller off. ‘We’re not saying anything that emphatic. What we are suggesting is that there may have been a mistake. One that the police didn’t have the opportunity to realise because they hadn’t received the statement of Ms Ferguson. Occasionally these things happen.’
‘What about the other witness?’ Gray asked. His fingers were locked together and pressed below his nose.
‘Leah White works at the venue where Mr Miller was alleged to have been seen supplying Mark Eldon with cocaine on the night of Tuesday the fifteenth of October.’
‘We matched the cocaine from Mr Miller’s residence to the cocaine found in Mark Eldon’s apartment.’
Muler slapped his hands together and held them closed as he pointed at Miller. ‘How do you explain that?’
‘We can’t,’ Miller said with a frown.
Muler smirked. ‘No?’
‘No. We can’t,’ said Will. ‘But our witness will attest that the man who claims to have seen Chris providing drugs to Eldon was not present that evening. He’s a bouncer and doesn’t work on Tuesday nights. We’d be happy to subpoena the owner of the venue, Roberta Grange, to testify to that effect.’
‘So?’ said Muler. ‘The drugs still match. How do you explain that.’
‘Actually, it means your warrant was illegal and the drugs you seized at Mr Miller’s apartment can’t be submitted as evidence.’
Muler’s hands dropped to his sides. He looked over towards Gray, who tightened his fingers.
‘Only if you can prove that he wasn’t there,’ Gray said.
‘We’re confident we can,’ Miller said, glowering at Muler. ‘How confident are you that your witness is telling the truth?’
Muler ran his hand down his face and exhaled. Miller leant back into his chair. Now he was the one who was smirking.
‘Might I ask you something, Detective Gray?’ Will said, lifting the tone of his voice. ‘With all due respect, were you told to charge this one and work out the details later?’
Gray remained still.
‘And have those details seemingly fallen into place in a convenient way – a straight line from A to B, without any hurdles, without much effort?’
‘Sometimes cases are straightforward,’ Muler said, the sides of his mouth turning downwards.
Will ignored him. ‘In your many years of experience, Senior Sergeant, would you say that this came just that little bit too easily, that the tabs lined up just that little bit too cleanly?’
Gray’s fingers separated and spread flat across his mouth. Slowly he breathed in through his nose. Miller, Will, Muler – everyone in the room watched him and waited.
After a time he spoke. ‘Geoffrey, could you leave us for a minute? I’d like to talk to these gentlemen alone.’
Muler frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
Gray nodded.
As he left the room, Muler watched Will out of the corner of his eye.
Gray leant back into his chair and folded his hands in front of him on the table.
‘Off the record. All three of us talking plainly now. What are you avoiding telling me so studiously?’
Miller shot Will a sideways glance and shrugged.
‘We are concerned that there may be a conspiracy to pervert the course of justice,’ said Miller.
‘Evidence?’
‘Nothing legally rigorous,’ Will replied.
‘The pathologist’s report?’
‘Tampered with.’
‘Those drugs in your apartment?’
‘Planted,’ said Miller. ‘We can’t prove it, of course, but we can block it.’
Gray’s shoulders stiffened and he tapped the table.
‘What you’re saying is extremely serious. You understand that? It would require persons across a number of departments to orchestrate this. But that’s why you’re suggesting it’s a conspiracy.’
Will leant forwards, keeping his eyes locked on Gray’s. ‘We’re defence lawyers. We don’t have the access to properly investigate and we could never commence a prosecution. But we truly believe in what we are saying.’
‘It defies belief.’
‘Then start by listening to our witnesses,’ Will said. ‘Take their formal statements, and then look into that pathologist’s report. If it doesn’t convince you, then we can push on to the committal hearing. But if it does, you might want to dig deeper.’
FORTY-FIVE
By all rights he didn’t need to be in his office. The Melbourne Cup was a public holiday; the courts were closed, the city almost deserted. And yet here he was in this pocket of calm, a morning without a meeting or interruption, where he could think deeply about the forces that were moving against him.
Will finished scanning and backing up the agreed statements of Susan Ferguson and Leah White, as well as the report from Quayle. He felt uncomfortable that he’d left it this long.
His phone flashed on his desk. It was Petra de Marco.
‘Not at the race?’ Will asked.
‘At work. This stuff you’ve given me on Hawk and Eldon is great.’
‘Do you think it’s enough for a story?’
‘Could be. Problem is that the chain doesn’t follow through to today. There’s nothing to confirm that a Hawk’s Club or Covenan
t or whatever they’re calling themselves even exists today.’
‘But that’s where you come in. You’re the investigative journalist. Emmet and Gregory attacking us is proof that something is going on.’
‘Sure.’ Will could hear De Marco flipping the pages of a spiral notebook. ‘But aside from that and this hazy stuff about Miller’s father, there’s nothing else showing what they’ve been up to over the years. I need provable events where they’ve perverted the course of justice.’
‘I have a suspicion that they’re involved with drugs.’
‘Again, I need more than what you’ve got here if I’m going to publish the story.’
‘I agree. I never promised you that this would be fact-checked and ready to print.’
There was a tap on the firm’s front door.
‘Hold on, Petra,’ Will said, as he got up and walked through to reception. On the other side of the door stood a man taller than him. Shaved head. Dark eyes.
Caja.
‘Petra, I’m going to have to call you back.’
Caja looked around the office. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.
Will was trying to slow his heart rate. A sudden spike in adrenaline flooded through him and his hands were trembling.
‘You should have called first.’
Caja entered the firm and walked through to Will’s office. Toby had made himself scarce.
Even the cat knows he’s bad news.
As Will returned to standing behind his desk, Caja looked out the window. He was dressed in an olive bomber jacket and faded black jeans. ‘You should come to me directly from now on. You are not to talk to Ramir any more.’
‘Why would I want to talk to you? As far as I’m concerned, my obligations to the Ivanics are over.’
Caja turned towards him, dappled light from the street and the darkness of the room meeting at the centre of his face. The groomed stubble, the cologne, military jacket – all arranged to give an air of sophisticated menace.
‘No,’ he said with a calmer voice. ‘You agreed to tell me what Aaron knew.’
‘And I did.’
‘You did not.’ He exhaled. ‘Ramir has told us everything.’
Will felt a flat numbness wash over him, the emptiness of so much spent emotion pushed at his seams.
