by Jean Harrod
“Can you blame him?”
“I still can’t believe it.” Dalton’s incredulous voice hung in the air as he weaved in and out of the traffic.
Sangster sat tense next to him in the passenger seat, staring at the road. “Who would have the balls to shoot a Federal Minister in the head, in his car, in broad daylight, and right outside Police HQ? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Someone who wanted to stop him talking to us,” Dalton replied.
“Or someone who wanted to kill under our noses.” Sangster shifted awkwardly in his seat.
“Where the hell was his security team?” Dalton railed. “Where was his driver?”
“Harris stood them down, and said he wanted to drive himself. Apparently, he phoned the DC and asked to call at 1pm on a private matter.”
Dalton glanced over. “What was that all about?”
“The DC doesn’t know. When Harris didn’t turn up, he phoned his office. No one there even knew about the appointment. Then the DC spotted a ministerial car parked outside in the street from his office window. His secretary went out, and found Harris dead inside.”
Dalton braked hard as a car pulled out in front of him.
Sangster jolted forward. When he sat back, he noticed a familiar jagged light in the corner of his right eye. He reached into his pocket for his migraine medication, then remembered he’d left it on the hall table at home.
“Someone must have witnessed the shooting.” Dalton was getting more and more worked up. “You can’t shoot a Minister in broad daylight without someone seeing?”
“Apparently you can, because no one’s come forward... yet.”
“But there’s CCTV right outside.”
“They’re checking it now.”
“Didn’t anyone see his body in the car, for Chrissakes?”
“Those official cars have heavily tinted windows. But this is where it gets weird, Dave.” Sangster glanced over. “The DC’s just said it looks like Harris was killed by a single bullet to the back of the head. Then, he was stabbed through the heart.”
Dalton’s jaw dropped. “Someone was really pissed off with him.”
“I’m no expert, Dave, but I always thought post-mortem stab wounds were sexual in nature.”
“Is that what this is all about? Sex? Because two high profile murders in one day can’t be a coincidence.”
Sangster nodded. “Except the murders are so different. The Chambers’ woman was attacked in the dark and drowned with bare hands; whereas Harris was shot in broad daylight, and stabbed through the heart.”
Dalton’s mobile rang. He answered while still expertly driving.
It amazed Sangster how someone as methodical and slow as Dalton could have such sharp reflexes behind the wheel.
Dalton looked over again. “No sign of Susan Chambers, Boss. The guys have been to her house, and to the Brisbane Echo. What do you want them to do now?”
Sangster rubbed his eyes, but that jagged light was still there. He was worried about Susan Chambers. He felt responsible for her running off, and he needed that diary. “I want someone to stay outside her house, in case she returns. Everyone else should get back to the station. And under no circumstances should anyone issue a general bulletin to pick her up. She’s scared enough of us as it is. I don’t want the whole Force chasing her.” He looked over at Dalton. “And I don’t want anyone to know she has that diary. Is that clear?”
Dalton understood. “You think she’s in danger while she’s got it?”
Sangster pursed his lips. “Until we know exactly what we’re dealing with, I’m going to put a small team together to look for her discreetly.”
When Dalton braked again, this time to stop at a red light, Sangster’s notepad flew onto the floor. He picked it up and flicked to his sketch of Ellen Chambers lying dead on the sand. Despite the disfiguration, he reckoned she’d been a beautiful woman, and successful. But the attack had been so angry, as if someone hadn’t just wanted to punish her, they’d wanted to destroy her. What had she done to spark that rage? He turned to another sketch. “What do you make of the British Consul, Dave?” he asked, as he studied the image of her he’d created on the page.
Dalton shrugged. “Doesn’t look much like a Consul, does she?”
“You never know who’s who in those embassies. They give themselves titles no one understands, and get up to all sorts under cover.”
“She seemed professional enough. A typically reserved Pom, if you ask me.” Dalton paused. “Did you notice she’s got the same profile as Ellen Chambers? Same build, height and colouring.”
Sangster nodded. Except for different coloured eyes, he thought. The victim’s were blue, the Consul’s are brown. A streak of lightning flashed across the sky, making him blink. Now, with his eyes closed, he could see that jagged line working its way across both eyes. He waited for the clap of thunder to follow. But it never came; nor did the rain. “Get the guys to pick up Danny Burton, Dave, and bring him down to the station for interview.”
“What, now?”
“Yes. Danny says he went home after that spat in the bar with Ellen Chambers. But I don’t think he’s the type of guy to give up on a woman so easily.”
“You think he might have done it?”
Sangster rubbed his eyes again and looked up at the black rain cloud hanging over the city skyscrapers, which only added to his dark mood. “I don’t know yet. But I’ve got a feeling he knows more than he’s letting on.”
*
Bald head pink with stress, the DC paced around his office, while Sangster stood by the window. The DC had a huge desk, but he never sat at it. It was more of a status symbol than a practical piece of furniture; and Sangster couldn’t see the point of that. But he did understand the DC’s anxiety. He was coming under intense scrutiny from Canberra and the media. And the strain was showing. But if anyone could handle the pressure, it was him. The DC might have worked his way up from the bottom, just like Sangster, but he was a shrewd operator. He was good at schmoozing and keeping senior officials and politicians sweet, but he wasn’t a risk taker or in the least bit independent-minded. And for that, Sangster didn’t admire him much.
Nor did Sangster care much for those two Federal agents. They’d been so rattled by the Anthony Harris murder, they’d delayed their briefing for another hour while they got more advice from Canberra. Then, when they did start talking, their briefing boiled down to one simple point: Ellen Chambers was suspected of taking a couple of million dollars in bribes from the Chinese to help get them a more favourable deal in the LNG negotiations. Sangster was unimpressed. Why all the cloak and dagger stuff? Why didn’t Canberra just say from the start that Ellen Chambers was double-crossing Western Energy by working for the Chinese?
“What I don’t understand, Tom, is why a woman in her position would take bribes from the Chinese? She was Western Energy’s Group Finance Director for God’s sake, and probably earning a fortune. Stupid woman!”
“Well, what I don’t understand is why Canberra didn’t just say from the start she was taking bribes from the Chinese.” Sangster’s eyes narrowed. “And why won’t they let us read a copy of that British intelligence report?”
“Too sensitive, they say.”
“So we just accept what we’re told?”
The DC stopped pacing. “What are you getting at?”
Sangster wasn’t sure himself. “It feels all wrong, that’s all.” He paused. “I want to talk to Chen Xiamen, and the rest of the Chinese.”
“You heard what Canberra said, Tom. We can’t interview any of them until the PM’s adviser and the Chinese Ambassador get here from Canberra, tomorrow morning.”
“Anything could happen before then. We’ve already had two murders.”
“We need to go along with them on this, Tom.” The DC gave him a pointed look. “The PM’s office have made it crystal clear to me that we can’t go blundering in and accuse the Chinese of bribing Ellen Chambers.”
“What
about murdering her?”
“That’s impossible. The Chinese were all present at an official function in Canberra Parliament last night. There’s no way any of them could have got a flight up to Brisbane and killed her.”
“But they could have arranged it,” Sangster said.
The DC stared at him. “I mean it, Tom. Don’t step out of line.”
“Well I don’t like it.”
The DC paused. “You’re going to like this even less. Canberra say they’re responsible for investigating the murder of Anthony Harris, because he was a Federal Minister.”
“So what do they suggest?” Sangster sounded exasperated. “That we split the two investigations up?”
“Look, don’t make this any harder than it is, Tom. There are more Federal Agents on their way. I’ve opened the major incident room, where we can all work together and pool information. Meanwhile, you carry on with the Ellen Chambers’ murder.” He stared at him. “If you want to.”
“Course I do.”
The DC nodded, as if to dismiss him.
But Sangster didn’t leave. “I want to put a small team together to look for Susan Chambers, quietly. She’s scared of us, and we need to find her before she gets herself into trouble.”
The DC shook his head. “We can’t afford to make any mistakes. Put out a bulletin to pick her up.”
“I’m worried she’s got that diary,” Sangster persisted. “Susan’s an investigative journalist, or at least she’s training to be. I think she’s going to use that diary to start digging into Ellen’s life. And that could put her in a lot of danger.” He took a deep breath. “Just give me 24 hours. If we haven’t found her by then, we’ll do it your way.”
“I’m not sure.”
“The British Consul will help us find her. Susan seems to trust her. I’m sure she’s the one person Susan will contact.”
The DC looked thoughtful. “The British Deputy High Commissioner Nigel Paxman phoned me earlier. Seems a good bloke... on the ball anyway. He told me his Consul was here.” He paused. “All right, Tom. You’ve got 24 hours.”
Sangster nodded. “One more thing, Sir. I want to keep that post-mortem stabbing under wraps for the time being. It’s weird, and I don’t want to get the media stoked up.”
The DC understood. “It’ll only spread hysteria.”
Sangster went to go.
“By the way, Tom, the Chairman of Western Energy called in to see me earlier. I believe you spoke to him on the phone?”
“Yes. I’d planned to stop at the Convention Centre to see him before I got your call about Anthony Harris.”
“Not only is he devastated about Ellen Chambers’ murder, he’s close to the PM, Tom, so tread carefully. Don’t go upsetting him, or anyone else at Western Energy.”
Sangster rose and headed for the door.
“There’s a lot at stake here, Tom,” the DC shouted at his departing back.
13
Surely the media had the story by now? Jess scanned the headlines on her laptop again, but there was still no mention of the Anthony Harris shooting. Puzzled, she sat back in her terrace chair and looked across the lawn. The shadow cast by the hotel roof had lengthened in the late afternoon sun, and the air had started to cool. She looked at her watch: 4.15pm. In another 45 minutes, the journalists were due to arrive for her briefing on Ellen Chambers’ murder. That’s if any of them turned up. The Anthony Harris shooting would be a much bigger headline now, if the press knew about it.
She checked her mobile. She wasn’t surprised Inspector Sangster hadn’t phoned back with news of the shooting; but she’d expected Simon to ring. They had to know about it in Canberra by now. She dialled Simon’s number, expecting to get his voicemail.
“Jess?” he answered. “I’m in the car with the Foreign Secretary and High Commissioner. We’re in between calls, on our way to the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade.”
Jess understood he was telling her he couldn’t chat. She launched straight in. “Have you heard Anthony Harris has been shot dead in Brisbane?”
His stunned silence answered her question.
“I was with Inspector Sangster at The Palms when he got the call,” she said. “I don’t know any of the details because he raced off back to Brisbane. I’ve heard nothing from him since.” She paused. “The media should have the story by now, but there’s still nothing about it on the internet.”
“Good God!”
Down the line, she could hear the disbelief in his voice as he told the High Commissioner and Foreign Secretary. But he sounded sceptical when he came back on. “Are you sure, Jess? Only we’ve heard nothing about it.”
“I’m sure I know what Inspector Sangster told me. Mind you, that was a couple of hours ago.”
“We’ve just finished our meetings at Parliament, and no one mentioned it. The whole place would be buzzing if it were true.”
“That’s weird. Inspector Sangster got the call while he was with me. I heard it all.”
“Right,” Simon said, purposefully. “We’re just arriving at the Department of Foreign Affairs. We’ll find out and let you know.”
“Thanks.”
“Please be careful, Jess.”
Jess pocketed her mobile. Am I sure? But now she was beginning to doubt the shooting had happened. Had there been some kind of mix-up? Some mix-up she thought, as she rolled her head from side to side to relieve tension. She looked at her watch again. She needed to clear her head before talking to those journalists.
In the distance, she could see the afternoon sun shimmering on the silvery sea. It looked so inviting. She pushed her laptop into her briefcase and picked up her bag. The scent of star jasmine wafted in the breeze as she walked down the garden path. Approaching the beach, she saw a man standing on the jetty, staring out to sea.
The man must have felt her presence because he turned. And when he saw her, he seemed to half-freeze, with a spontaneous look of surprise, or was it shock, on his face?
Jess recognised him immediately. It wasn’t just because he resembled his photo in the newspaper, or because he was particularly striking. No, he just held himself upright and radiated a kind of charisma. He was the Chairman of Western Energy, all right. “Mr Langhurst?” She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Jessica Turner, British Consul.”
Something like relief flitted across his face. “Of course.” He shook her hand. “Your Deputy High Commissioner said you were here.”
Langhurst had a surprisingly strong handshake. “I’m so sorry about Ellen,” she said. “It’s just terrible.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “She’s quite... irreplaceable.”
The deep sadness in his voice moved Jess and she felt tears prick her eyes. They stood in silence for a while, side by side, looking out to sea, until Langhurst gave a long sigh. “Thank you for coming, Miss Turner.”
“Call me Jessica, or Jess if you like.”
He nodded. “And I’m John.”
Conscious that he was deeply upset, she said: “Would you mind if I ask you about Ellen?”
He gave a sad half-smile. “Of course not. But I don’t know what I can tell you, except that she was a delightful colleague and a brilliant financial expert.”
“Do you know her sister, Susan?” Jess was hoping he might know where Susan was.
He shook his head. “I knew Ellen had a sister working in Brisbane, but I’ve never met her.”
“She was here earlier. She told me Ellen had hoped to move to Australia soon to work for your Company.”
He flinched. “Susan Chambers told you that?”
“Sorry, am I talking out of turn?”
He frowned. “It’s true I wanted Ellen to take over as CEO.” He glanced at Jess. “Did Susan mention that too?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’d be grateful if you’d keep it to yourself. Only our CEO Richard Price is still in the job, and I don’t want the press making any more trouble.” He ran his fingers through his hai
r. “I expect you’ve seen the speculation in the media about Richard moving on?” Of course she hadn’t, but he didn’t wait for her reply. “All those reports about his run-in with the police over drink-driving. These things always find their way into the papers.”
How embarrassing for him and Western Energy, Jess thought.
“Poor Richard’s been suffering since his divorce last year,” Langhurst explained. “Alcohol ruins so many lives.”
Jess understood perfectly. “I expect Ellen told Susan about the move because she was excited at the prospect of moving closer to her sister.”
He nodded. “I don’t deny I wanted Ellen for the job. She would have been perfect. But while everyone was speculating about Richard being on the move, no one knew Ellen was the front-runner to replace him. Perhaps I need to explain that to Susan? I’ve been trying to contact her to express my condolences. She works at the Echo, but they won’t give out her private number. Do you have it?”
Jess shook her head. “She left without giving me her contact details.”
“I was hoping to see Inspector Sangster here.”
“I’m afraid you’ve just missed him.”
He sighed. “In that case, I’d better get back to the Conference. To be honest, I wanted to cancel the whole thing. But guests have travelled from all over the world to attend. I can’t let them down.”
As they walked up to the hotel in companionable silence, Jess wondered if he’d heard about the Anthony Harris shooting. But as he never mentioned it, she didn’t either.
Reaching the back terrace, he stopped. “It was good to meet you, Jessica.”
“Good to meet you too, John.”
Under his intense gaze, she had the feeling she was being assessed. She must have come out favourably because he pulled out a business card and gave it to her. “If there’s anything I can do, give me a ring on my mobile. Any time.”
She smiled. “And here’s mine.” She gave him a card, then asked. “Do you mind if I ask one question that’s been bothering me?”
“Of course not.”
“Why was Ellen such a key person on your LNG negotiating team when she was resident in London? Don’t you have anyone in Australia who could do the job?”
