by Jean Harrod
“What?”
“You should have told me she was under police surveillance, along with Chen Xiamen.”
“Hold on...”
But Jess was well into her stride now. “And you should have told me about that intelligence report. I expect that sort of treatment from Nigel, but not from you.”
“Jess,” Simon said, patiently. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
That took the wind out of her sails. “Oh, when Derek Marshall said Nigel had been personally briefed about it by the Australians, I assumed you knew too.”
“Well, I don’t,” he huffed. “And what’s Derek got to do with it?”
“He was on my plane this morning, accompanying the Chinese LNG delegation to Brisbane. They’re attending Western Energy’s Conference, by the way. It opens today. That’s why Ellen Chambers was in Queensland.”
“I see. So what’s this police investigation all about? What have Ellen and Chen done?”
“I’d hoped you’d be able to tell me.” She heard that familiar clicking noise again and hesitated. “I’d better end this call.”
“Wait! I need to know.”
“I think my phone’s being tapped. I noticed it immediately I arrived in Brisbane.”
“Well, if it’s the Australians, they know everything anyway.”
That’s true, she thought, and she had no other way of communicating with Simon in the field. “Derek said the Australian Federal Police launched an investigation into Chen and Ellen after receiving sensitive intelligence concerning corruption allegations in a classified report from London. I don’t know what’s going on, but the source of that information was our Embassy in Beijing.”
“Our Embassy?”
“Yes.”
“And you say Nigel was briefed.”
“According to Derek.”
There was a pause.
“Now it’s all beginning to make sense.” Simon sounded cross. “All through lunch Nigel insisted on asking questions about the LNG deal when it was clear the Australians didn’t want to talk about it. In the end, their Foreign Affairs Head Paul Robinson got really shirty and our Foreign Secretary had to intervene to calm things down.”
“Really?”
“Skilful he was. Passed it off as a joke, saying he didn’t want to get into a fist-fight at his first Australian engagement. Put Nigel well and truly back in his box.”
“I’d loved to have seen that,” Jess said, dryly. “But why would Nigel do that? What’s the LNG deal got to do with us?”
“God knows. I thought he was having some kind of brainstorm.” Simon sighed. “Are you sure about this, Jess? I mean, it does sound a bit odd.”
Am I sure? She bristled. “I’m sure I know what Derek Marshall told me.”
There was a pause.
“I have to go,” Simon whispered. “The Foreign Secretary’s calling me back to the meeting.”
“Right.”
“I’ll be stuck in meetings all afternoon. I’m taking a note for the record, so I can’t duck out. Then there’s the dinner this evening; I’m taking a record of that too. But I’ll find out what’s going on and phone you either before or after dinner.” He paused. “You sure you’re okay, Jess?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Well take care.” And he rang off.
Honestly! Jess hung up and leant back in her chair. Did he think she was imagining things? To be fair, she had to agree it didn’t make much sense. Why would Nigel keep that intelligence report to himself? And why upset the Australians about the LNG deal in front of the Foreign Secretary? Still, the fact that Simon hadn’t known anything about it made her feel better. Then she immediately felt bad about being so offhand with him.
The hotel door creaked open, and she looked round as footsteps came running out.
“Did she come this way?” Sergeant Dalton panted.
Jess looked at him.
“Susan Chambers. Did she come this way?”
“She’s in the lobby with Inspector Sangster.”
He shook his head. “She’s run off.” He turned and hurried back into the hotel.
Jess rushed after him. She’d just reached the lobby when she heard Sangster shout: “Get after her, Dave. She’s driven off in her car.”
Dalton darted across the lobby.
“Wait,” Jess called out. “I’ll come with you.”
“No.” Sangster put a restraining hand on her arm.
She glared at him.
“Please stay here.” he said. “Susan may come back to see you.”
Jess was furious. But not with him, with herself for not staying with Susan. Oh God! Her stomach tightened as she looked at the empty table. “Did she give you the diary?”
Sangster stared at her. “What diary?”
“Susan’s got her sister’s diary. A cleaner found it hidden in Ellen’s hotel room this morning, before the room was sealed off.”
His steely eyes seemed to pierce right through her.
Jess met his stare. “I bumped into the cleaner on the stairs, just after I’d seen you. She shoved the diary into my hands and ran off. I was planning to give it to you at our meeting. Of course I didn’t know then you were Inspector Sangster.” She paused. “The diary was on that table.” She pointed to the one she was sitting at earlier. “Susan grabbed it.”
“I need that diary for the investigation.”
“And you’d have it now if you hadn’t scared her off.”
They stood staring at each other, until he looked away and pulled out his mobile.
All Jess’s instincts were telling her to go after Susan, except she didn’t know where she lived. She didn’t even have her phone number. Why hadn’t she got Susan’s contact details straightaway? That was the first thing she’d normally do. Was it the fear on Susan’s face that had distracted her? Or that worry about the police?
Realising there was nothing she could do, she left Sangster on the phone and went back out to the terrace. At least Susan had her mobile number. She only hoped she’d get in touch again.
Sitting back down, she forced herself to finish her report.
The victim’s next of kin is her (British) sister, Susan Chambers. She lives in Brisbane and works as a journalist for the Brisbane Echo. She has no other family in the UK, so London do not need to contact anyone. But Susan’s behaviour is worrying. She came to the hotel to see me but took off in her car when the police arrived. She told me her sister Ellen thought she was in some kind of trouble when she was murdered.
Jess stuck to the basic facts because the email wouldn’t be encrypted and could be intercepted over an open line. She didn’t include anything about the corruption allegations because of the intelligence source. Should she mention Susan’s distrust of the police, or about her snatching Ellen’s diary? No, better not.
Finishing up, she typed:
There is heavy media interest in this case here. Grateful if London could let me know about any UK press interest and email any articles or links.
Jess Turner
Consul, British High Commission, Canberra.
She was just pressing ‘send’, when she heard the hotel door creak open again. She jumped up when Inspector Sangster walked out. “Have you found her?”
He shook his head.
She sighed. “The poor girl’s mad with grief. Have you got her mobile number?”
“No, but we’ve got her home address. A couple of guys are on their way round now in case she goes back there.”
“What on earth made her run off like that?”
Sangster scratched his head. “I was trying to get her to talk about her sister.” He paused. “When I asked her if Ellen had seemed troubled or upset over recent weeks, Susan said she had to go to the rest room. She got up, walked across the lobby, and then darted out the door.”
Jess gave him a level stare. “She’s frightened of you... oh, I don’t mean you personally... just the police.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is
that what she said?”
Jess nodded, watching him carefully. “She told me Ellen was afraid of the police too.”
He frowned.
His reaction puzzled Jess. Surely he knew the Federal Police had Ellen under surveillance? Or did he?
There was an awkward silence while he checked his watch. “I was planning to show you the spot where Ellen Chambers died,” he said.
“Don’t worry, if you have to get back.”
“I’ve got five minutes.”
“Well, I would appreciate it.” Jess knew it was important to get the details correct for the British authorities and for families of victims who relied on her for information when their loved ones died overseas. It was as if she were their last link with them; and she felt the weight of that responsibility. She got up and followed him down the path.
Stopping 40 metres from the jetty, Sangster pulled a notepad out of his pocket and stood staring at the pages. He was concentrating so hard, Jess didn’t move either. It hadn’t occurred to her when she’d blundered onto the first floor that he was a policeman because he looked more like a businessman, or the hotel manager even, in his smart suit and silk tie. He certainly didn’t look like an Australian cop. And he didn’t have the same pronounced Queensland accent as Dalton. That set him apart. Where was he from, she wondered? He was quite a bit taller than her – probably around six foot. And, despite his grey hair, she guessed he must only be in his mid to late 40s.
Jess waited a while, but he continued to stare at his notepad. Impatient, she glanced over to see what was so interesting. Her eyes widened. He was looking at drawings!
“I like to sketch victims and crime scenes,” he said, as if reading her mind.
I bet they love you down at the station, she thought. But then he didn’t seem the type of man who cared much about what others thought of him. She looked at her watch; she didn’t have time for this.
*
Sangster shut his notepad and started walking again. He didn’t look at the British Consul, but he was conscious of her keeping pace beside him. It had never occurred to him that the Consul would be a woman, although he didn’t know why. She looked young, in her mid-30s perhaps? Attractive too. But he wasn’t warming to Jessica Turner. He’d caught her disbelieving stare at his sketches. Still, he wouldn’t hold that against her; most people reacted in the same way. No, it was more her impassive face and eyes. She was way too cool and aloof. Mind you, he had given her a blast for walking into that sealed-off corridor earlier. Maybe she was still put out about that? “Drawing helps me focus on the precise details,” he heard himself say. “Once I’ve drawn something, it stays in my memory.” He wondered why he felt the need to explain.
She didn’t reply, which irritated him even more.
Reaching the jetty, he jumped down onto the sand and stared at the spot where the body had been found. He felt comfortable being at the crime scene again. “This is where Ellen Chambers was found.” He pointed to a flat area. “Lying face down, with her left cheek exposed. Her face was covered with cuts and bruises. She’d been badly beaten.” He looked up at the Consul. Did she just shiver? He knew she was listening to his every word because she kept jotting notes in her pad.
“Was it a very violent attack?” she asked.
“Frenzied.” He watched for another reaction, but there was none this time.
“So what do you think happened?” she asked.
“Well.” He pulled himself back up onto the jetty and stood next to her. “We reckon she was attacked up here. She put up a fight. They both went over the side and struggled in the water. The killer held her face under and drowned her.” He nodded, as if reinforcing all the details in his mind and looked at the Consul. Her eyes were unreadable, and he found that somehow unsettling.
“A lad called Danny Burton found her. He works here. Gardening, beach attendant. That sort of thing. Cocky little shit.” He glanced back, apologetically. But the Consul wasn’t listening to him now, she was staring down at the spot where Ellen Chambers had died. And this time, he definitely saw her shiver. Not quite the Ice Queen, then.
Reacting to her mood, he said nothing. He looked all around, breathing in the atmosphere. But when he turned back, the Consul was studying him, which made him feel uncomfortable. “Who might have done something like this?” she asked.
“Difficult to say at the moment.”
“What’s your gut instinct?”
He wasn’t used to being asked that. “Well,” he hesitated, “we haven’t found a handbag or mobile, so robbery could have been a motive. But she still had her expensive watch on.”
“A sex attack, perhaps?”
“No immediate sign of that. But we’ll find out for sure at the autopsy.”
She nodded. “Can I have a copy of the autopsy report when it’s ready?”
She was back to her calm, assured self now. A closed book. “Yes,” he replied.
“So, you said the attack was frenzied, Inspector. If we could rule out robbery and sexual assault, what else could we be looking at?”
He didn’t want to commit himself. “It’s difficult to say at the moment.”
But she wasn’t satisfied with that. “You said the attack was frenzied. Doesn’t that suggest the killer was in a rage?”
“Or high on drugs or alcohol.”
“Mm.” She didn’t look convinced. “Could Ellen Chambers have known her killer, do you think?”
“Maybe she had an appointment with him?” He was still furious about that diary.
His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. “There were no appointments in her diary for Sunday night, if that’s what you’re getting at.” The Consul settled her cool gaze on him. “There was a lunch on Sunday for the Conference delegates who arrived in Brisbane early. It was at the Riverbank Hotel. But nothing for Sunday night.”
Of course she’d have read the diary; he should have thought of that before. “Did you see anything else interesting?”
“Well,” she paused. “Ellen Chambers was an organised woman, with neat, legible handwriting.”
He waited. The Consul seemed to be focusing on a spot close to his right shoulder as she spoke, as if she were seeing the pages of the diary in front of her.
“And she’d recorded all her appointments so carefully, with the full name and contact details of all her interlocutors and the venue. Except... well, I noticed the initials TH entered on various dates.” She frowned. “Just those initials, with no name or contact details. Those appointments only seemed to take place whenever she was in Brisbane.”
He noticed the Consul bite her lip. Was she was holding something back? Again he waited.
“I was wondering if they were the initials of a boyfriend or lover,” she went on. “If Ellen had wanted to keep his identity and their meetings secret, she wouldn’t have included any other details, would she?”
Sangster nodded. He had to hand it to Jessica Turner, she was observant and precise. “Did you spot anything else in the diary?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if it’s of any relevance.” She hesitated. “On the back page, there were six lines of words and numbers all jumbled up. They looked like codes... or computer passwords. Something like that. But I’m afraid I can’t remember them.” She looked up. “Do you think Ellen Chambers’ murder could be linked to her job at Western Energy? Only the LNG contract is high profile and lucrative.”
“It’s possible.” He wondered whether to ask her about that British intelligence report. She had to know about it, and those corruption allegations were his only line of enquiry at the moment. Tired of beating around the bush, he said: “Are you asking me if I think her murder is connected to those corruption allegations?”
She nodded, but volunteered nothing.
Now, he was annoyed he’d brought it up. “I’m waiting to be briefed about that. Two Canberra Federal Agents are on their way as we speak.” He knew he sounded blunt, but he didn’t like being played. “I’m sure you already know all abou
t that.”
Her eyes narrowed; it was the first time he’d seen a flash of steel in them. But before she could say anything, his mobile rang.
“Tom?” The DC’s voice sounded breathless. “Get back here, quickly. There’s been another murder... Anthony Harris, the Federal Minister... he’s been shot.”
“Shot?” For a minute, Sangster couldn’t quite take in what he’d heard.
“Yes. We found him dead in his ministerial car outside Police HQ. He was on his way to see me.”
“Jesus!” He looked at the British Consul, who stood pale-faced, watching him.
“Is it Susan Chambers?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “I’m on my way,” he said into his mobile and hung up.
“What’s happened?” the Consul asked, urgently.
“It’s Anthony Harris. He’s been shot dead in Brisbane.”
“Oh my God!” She clasped her hand to her throat. “I only saw him a few hours ago at the airport. What happened?”
“That’s all I know,” he said.
There was a pause while they both took in the news.
“Is his murder connected to Ellen Chambers?” she asked, quietly.
“I really don’t know. Look I’m sorry, but I must go.”
“Of course.”
He hesitated. “Will you ring me immediately if you hear from Susan?”
“Yes. And will you ring me when you know more about the Minister’s murder?”
He nodded and sprinted up the path towards the hotel, his mind racing in every direction. Although he was in a hurry, at the top of the path, he stopped. For some reason, he felt uneasy about leaving the British Consul at the crime scene alone after that shocking news. But when he turned round, she was standing with her back to him, staring out to sea. She looked a solitary figure, lost in her own thoughts. He thought back to her cool gaze and guarded eyes. There was something unsettling about Jessica Turner that he couldn’t work out. And that made her interesting.
12
“I assure you we’ll be there in 15 minutes.” Sangster hung up and sat gripping his mobile.
“Is that the DC stressin’ out?”
