by Chris Taylor
But that was then, before he knew. Before he knew it was all a lie. He wasn’t the Minister’s special boy. He wasn’t the favored one. He wasn’t the only one the Minister loved…
He wanted to charge into the room and tear the men apart. He wanted to scream out his pain and disillusionment until he was hoarse from the effort…
But where would that get him? It was obvious the Minister had been playing him. For nearly twelve months, Eric had done everything his boss had asked of him—and more—without complaint and now he knew it had all been for nothing. God knows how many others had been in the game, taking the kind of pleasure from the Minister that Eric had believed was his alone. All this time, he’d been blissfully unaware.
Heartbreak and disillusionment nearly made him weep. Rage like he’d never known burned behind his eyes. He’d been played the fool, pure and simple. Well, not anymore. He’d find a way to make the Minister pay…
* * *
The Minister watched with a narrowed eyed gaze as Chip departed the way he’d arrived. The boy had come in handy, but his usefulness was at an end. Now that Declan Munro had been committed to stand trial, the need for Chip had dissipated. Even if Munro was found not guilty, the damage to his credibility would be irreparable. The man could continue to spout his innocence to all and sundry, but who would listen? He’d been charged with accessing child pornography. His career and reputation would never recover.
Besides, the meeting with his niece a little over an hour ago had unsettled him and the increasing desperation in Chip’s eyes was more than cause for concern. Desperate men were unpredictable and the Minister hated when things went beyond his control. No, it was time to put an end to the man’s dependence upon him, before he became more trouble than he was worth.
He’d do it as gently as he could, of course. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had plenty of practice. He’d ended more relationships than he could remember. More often than not, they’d ended amiably with a promotion and reward. History assured him the odds were in his favor.
He’d begun to tire of Chip, anyway. He’d only sought the man out as a way to get access to Munro. Now he’d achieved his aim, it was time to let him go. Besides, cutting Chip loose would give him more time to devote to his young clerk. During the year they’d been working together, he and Eric had grown close, but with most of his efforts concentrated on Chip over the past few months, the Minister had been more than a little neglectful of the boy.
It was time he paid the clerk a little more attention.
CHAPTER 16
Chloe bent over the sink in the staff restroom and splashed cool water onto her face. She patted it dry with some paper towel and then stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed; her eyes were overbright. Tendrils of hair that had escaped the tight confines of her bun, now curled riotously around her face. Overall, she looked like she’d run a marathon around Lake Burley Griffin. Twice.
The lunch with her uncle had left her feeling dissatisfied. She’d hoped he would answer her questions with facts; that one way or the other, she’d know the truth about why Declan’s personnel file had been accessed. But her uncle had been anything but enlightening and when she left, she’d felt even more unsettled.
With a sigh, she pulled out hairpins and loosened the elastic band that contained her bun. She released the heavy mass on another sigh. Grabbing a brush from her handbag, she ran it through her wayward locks before twisting it back into its customary bun. With a last look at her reflection, she left the bathroom and headed back toward her desk.
Straight after her meeting with her uncle, she’d returned to her office and had placed a call to Charlie Stanford’s cell phone. The call had gone through to his voice mail. It was now nearly two hours since she’d left a message for him to contact her and she had yet to hear from him.
Impatience churned in her belly and she reached for the internal police phone directory and found the number for Detective Superintendent Gary Julian. Snatching up the phone again, she punched in the numbers for Stanford’s boss and waited for someone to pick up.
“CPU.”
“Detective Superintendent Julian, please.”
The call was redirected and a few moments later, the familiar, deep voice of Gary Julian answered the call. Chloe cut to the chase and told him she was waiting for Stanford’s call.
“I’m sorry, Senior Inspector Sabattini. I wish I could help, but Charlie transferred out of my unit a fortnight ago. I didn’t even know it was happening. The transfer papers turned up on my desk out of the blue. Stanford never said anything, although given what he’s had to say of late, I can understand why he wouldn’t want to hang around here. The rest of the unit isn’t exactly overflowing with understanding for him.”
“What do you think about his evidence?” she asked.
There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “If it was anyone else but Stanford, I’d have said it was a load of bullshit. But Stanford’s a good agent. He’s been here for years. Then again, I’m still not willing to believe Declan’s guilty of the charges.”
Julian sounded tired and bewildered. “I’ve been a copper for most of my life and yet I don’t even know what to make of it.”
Chloe bit her lip. She could totally empathize with his confusion. She’d felt exactly the same way and she hadn’t known the men involved even a skerrick of time compared with their boss.
“I think there’s someone else behind it,” she stated, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Until she knew exactly what was going on, she didn’t know who was involved, but something told her she could trust the superintendent.
“What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
“I’m not sure yet, and I’d rather not say anything officially until I know more, but I’m with you. I don’t believe Declan did this and I don’t think Charlie Stanford is acting alone, but he knows more than he’s saying. I need to talk to him again.”
“He’s been transferred to the Fraud Squad. Their office is in Woden. That’s about all I can tell you.”
“Thanks, I’ll give them a call. I’ve already tried his cell. It keeps going to voice mail.”
“As far as Stanford knows, you’re still on his side. You brought the charges against Declan, based on Stanford’s evidence. I’m sure he’ll contact you as soon as he’s able.”
“I hope so. I can’t imagine what Declan and his family must be going through. It’s my fault things went this far and it’s now my responsibility to set things right.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You had to do your job and work with the evidence available.”
Chloe appreciated the superintendent’s sentiments, but right at that moment, they didn’t mean squat.
The cell phone, sitting on the desk in front of her, illuminated an incoming call. She glanced at it and froze. Charlie Stanford was on the other end of the line.
“I’m sorry, superintendent. I have to go. It looks like you were right. Agent Stanford’s calling me on my cell phone. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Hanging up, she answered the incoming call. Not wanting to spook him, she remained professionally polite and requested that he meet her at her office in half an hour.
* * *
The doors to the elevator closed behind Charlie and it made its speedy ascent to the fifth floor. His heart hammered against his chest and he fought hard against the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.
In a few minutes, he’d face Senior Investigator Sabattini and provide her with an explanation for the reason he’d lied to her. The nerves in his gut swirled. Nausea threatened.
He’d listened to her message as he was about to leave the Master’s office. Together, they’d come up with a reasonable explanation and he returned the call straight away. Charlie only hoped she fell for it.
His thoughts turned to the other handful of missed calls listed on his phone, all of them from Declan. He’d purposefully ignored them. He didn’t have anything to say. He’d
done as the Master bid and that was the end of it.
Warmth spread through him and his cock twitched at the thought of the Master. Their encounter a little over an hour ago had been their most memorable yet. It had taken him back to his youth, when he’d been nothing more than a lonely teenager who’d caught the eye of the boarding school dorm master.
He could remember those days like they’d happened yesterday. His introduction into the joys of sex had started innocently enough. A touch here, a lingering look there. Charlie had enjoyed the attention. Having never known his father, the interest of a man had felt at once strange and exciting. It wasn’t long before he was summoned to the dorm master’s private rooms and had been asked to suck the man’s cock.
At fourteen, Charlie had barely had an inkling about what to do, but the dorm master had been patient in his efforts to educate the young boy in the delights of the male flesh.
Charlie had blossomed under the man’s tutelage. Until that first time, he hadn’t realized he was gay. Girls had held little interest for him, but he’d assumed that would change in time. The dorm master made Charlie see himself as he truly was for the very first time and he’d been inordinately grateful.
Within weeks, they’d graduated to intercourse. Charlie had basked in the pleasure and satisfaction on the dorm master’s face as he’d eagerly applied all the skills he’d been taught. He’d reveled in the tenderness he felt in the other man’s arms when the dorm master had gathered him close. For the very first time in his life, he’d felt loved.
His mother had noticed the change in him, of course. The confrontation had happened soon after he’d arrived home for the spring break. She’d narrowed her eyes at him, staring at him through eyes reddened from cheap whiskey, and had demanded he tell her what was going on.
He’d resisted for as long as he could, not wishing to sully the beauty of his relationship by sharing his experiences with the filth and detritus that was his mother. She’d been a good-for-nothing alcoholic for as long as he could remember. He’d only been able to afford to attend the posh boarding school through the generosity of his grandparents, both of whom had long since wiped their hands of their daughter.
But she’d eventually worn him down. She’d pestered him for days and days and finally he’d told her: He was in love with his dorm master.
His mother’s eyes had filled with anger and disgust. She’d ranted and raved about the filth of it until it was all he could do but hold back the tears. Then she’d threatened to throw him out on the street.
The house they lived in had never been much, but it was the only home he’d known. His grandparents’ philanthropy had never extended toward him visiting them and he had nowhere else to go.
At fourteen, he’d been tall and sturdy for his age, but he knew there was no way he’d make it on his own. He also knew better than to think his dorm master could help him. The man had a wife and children. Charlie did the only thing he could: He never spoke of it again.
* * *
Chloe waited with barely concealed impatience for the knock on her door. When it came, she swallowed against the sudden onset of nerves. This could be it. Charlie Stanford could provide her with the explanation she needed—the link she was certain was missing.
Taking a few seconds to pat down her hair and straighten her skirt and jacket, Chloe stood and opened the door.
“Agent Stanford, thanks for coming in. Please, take a seat.”
Stanford nodded a brisk greeting and took the chair indicated. Chloe seated herself at her desk and opened the file in front of her. Tugging out a copy of Charlie’s statement, she placed it in front of him.
“Do you remember making that statement, Agent Stanford?”
He stared at her without flinching. “Yes.”
“Is it the same statement the prosecution tendered to the court yesterday?”
“Yes.”
His gaze remained steady, almost disconcertingly so. Chloe cleared her throat. “I want to draw your attention to paragraph sixty-three.” She waited while he flipped over the pages.
“Do you remember me asking you if Agent Munro had ever given you cause to suspect him in the past of behavior consistent with a pedophile?”
Stanford’s expression remained closed, but he nodded.
“At paragraph sixty-three, I asked you that very question. Please read your response, Agent Stanford.”
A frown marred Stanford’s forehead, but he read the response as she’d requested.
“So, eight weeks ago, when you made this statement, you told me your friend, Agent Munro, had never given you cause to suspect him in the past and yet, yesterday you told the court, under oath, that he had. When were you lying, Agent Stanford? Then, or now?”
Stanford’s cheeks reddened. Chloe felt a surge of satisfaction that at last, she’d managed to elicit a reaction from him.
“Perjury is a criminal offence punishable by imprisonment, Agent Stanford. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of that.”
She waited a few moments to give him the chance to let the gravity of his situation sink in.
Leaning forward, she rested her chin on her hands and contemplated him in silence. Purposefully, she gentled her tone. “How about you tell me what’s going on, Charlie?”
His struggle showed plainly on his face. Chloe held her breath and prayed she’d done enough. Moments later, his expression hardened and all signs of his inward battle disappeared. Her spirits sank, knowing she’d lost him.
“I was lying when I told you I hadn’t had any cause to suspect Declan in the past. I thought if I told you the truth, like I did in court, it would make things worse. I didn’t know when you first interviewed me that you would charge him. I knew what he’d done was wrong, but a part of me hoped he’d be stood down and given help—some counseling, or…or something. I never wanted him to end up like this. He’s my mate.”
Confusion and doubt once again made their presence known among the whirling thoughts in Chloe’s head. Stanford looked so genuine. If she hadn’t come to know Declan better, she’d have believed Charlie’s account and believed it unquestioningly.
She was reminded of how convincing he’d been at his first interview—an interview where he now admitted he’d been dishonest. Was he that good at deception? She shook her head, trying to clear it.
“Do you know Eric Stoltenberg?” The question left her lips without any forethought. She didn’t know where it had come from, but all of a sudden, it felt right.
Stanford frowned, but then nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen him around.”
Chloe sat up straighter in her chair. “Around? Can you be more specific?”
He shrugged and looked away. “Around. What do you want me to say?”
“What about Ronald Sabattini?”
“The Minister for Home Affairs?”
Chloe nodded.
“Yeah, I know him.”
She sought clarification. “When you say you know him, do you mean you know of him or that you know him personally?”
Stanford’s expression turned guarded. Chloe stilled.
“I’ve…met him a few times.”
Her heart rate accelerated and her chest felt tight. All of a sudden the room felt hot and constricting.
“How many times?”
“I already told you. A few. Three or four, maybe five.”
“At work functions?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Did he speak to you? Make conversation?”
A smile tugged at Stanford’s lips and then was quickly squashed. “I guess you could call it that.”
The confusion in her head compounded. Her uncle had said he’d never heard of Charlie Stanford and yet Stanford was telling her different.
Why would her uncle lie? Or was Stanford playing her again?
The perplexity of it was giving her a headache. She shoved her chair back abruptly and stood, her hand outstretched toward the agent.
“Thank you for coming in, Age
nt Stanford. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Happy to help where I can.”
“I’ll be in touch,” she managed and dropped her gaze to the desk, busying herself with the papers that were spread across it.
The door closed with a soft click. Chloe collapsed into her chair and wondered when her life had gotten so complicated. Her uncle had denied knowing Charlie. He’d also denied sending Eric Stoltenberg to access Declan’s file.
Charlie Stanford knew Eric Stoltenberg. Charlie had also met and spoken to her uncle on more than one occasion—or so he said. Someone was telling lies—but who?
Charlie Stanford had form. He’d already owned up to being dishonest, but was he lying then—or now? And who was he lying about? Declan? Her uncle? Or both?
Whichever way she looked at it, something wasn’t right. It was time to speak with her boss.
Detective Superintendent Tony Hammond always stayed well after his shift ended. Being the last person to leave the office every day was his thing. Chloe thought it had more to do with the enormous workload he carried and his exceptional dedication to his job rather than any quirk of character, but nevertheless, she was reassured that, even though the sun had nearly called it a day, Tony would be in the office.
Pushing away from her desk, she stood and made her way through the maze of partitioned offices until she came to the one at the end, enclosed by glass. Her boss glanced up from the pile of paperwork on his desk and moved his head slightly in greeting.
“Heading off?”
Chloe nodded. “Shortly, but I wanted to speak to you about something before I left. It’s about the Munro matter.”
Hammond pushed his glasses further up his nose and nodded. “I heard he was committed for trial. Good work on that one, Chloe.”
Chloe grimaced. “Yeah, well I’m not sure it was. I’ve discovered evidence that indicates someone else was involved. In fact, I’m almost certain Agent Munro had nothing to do with the unauthorized access.”
