The Labyrinth of Drowning

by Alex Palmer

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Clive replied, irritated.

  ‘We got his description from the barmaid at the Royal Hotel. He was seen in the bar just before ten.’

  ‘I saw him arrive,’ Grace said. ‘He walked in as I walked out. I didn’t know him.’

  ‘Just as well. You might have got yourself shot,’ Borghini replied unsentimentally.

  ‘Have you picked him up?’ Clive asked.

  ‘We’re looking for him.’

  ‘Don’t pick him up,’ Clive ordered.

  Borghini sat back in his chair. ‘The man’s fucking dangerous.’

  ‘Put him under surveillance instead. He may lead us to something.’

  ‘You can get me the manpower first,’ Borghini replied. ‘The question is, if he did shoot Jacqueline Ryan, what are the Ponticellis doing involved in this?’

  ‘That’s what they do. They’re for hire,’ Grace said. ‘Brasi could have shot Arleen McKenzie and Kidd as well. It’s their MO.’

  ‘We need to ask if there’s more to it than that,’ Borghini said to her. ‘I think we should discuss it now. If you’re out there on the front line, I reckon you need to be bulletproof. Especially with Kidd saying things like you’re a puppet to these people. I really didn’t like that.’

  ‘Our targets probably see everyone that way.’

  That was as much as she wanted to say. At the time, she’d brushed Kidd’s comment aside. Think too hard about that kind of statement and she wouldn’t be able to do her job.

  ‘Grace is well protected,’ Clive said quickly, then changed the subject. ‘I have other information we need to discuss first. As of midday yesterday, Sara McLeod and Joel Griffin have been under twenty-four-hour surveillance. The black Porsche is registered in her name to her parents’ address. She’s the daughter of Angela and Robert McLeod of Palm Beach, which is where Narelle Wong used to go for parties. They’re A-list. Their parties include any number of celebrities and media stars.’

  ‘Can we tie Sara McLeod’s business to Life’s Pleasures?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Not without the testimony of the sex workers,’ Borghini said, a little red-faced at being rebuffed. ‘If they or members of their families are being offered some kind of new life in this country, they won’t cooperate with us.’

  Just then Grace’s phone rang.

  ‘Grace Riordan.’

  ‘Joel here. How are you?’

  ‘Just wonderful,’ she said lightly. ‘What have you got to tell me?’

  ‘Maybe you’d like to relax a little. How about going on a picnic?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Lane Cove National Park. At one this afternoon. I’ll be waiting at the Chatswood entrance.’

  ‘Why are we meeting?’ she said. ‘Are we going to come to an agreement?’

  ‘You wanted to be part of the deal. I’m going to make you an offer. We’ll talk about it then.’

  The conversation had been broadcast to the room. Borghini was watching her.

  ‘You take fucking care,’ he said. ‘They mean business.’

  Clive glanced at him angrily. ‘Dress yourself up,’ he said to Grace. ‘Make it look like you’re trying to attract him. You should be able to do that.’

  ‘Do I need to?’

  ‘He put the possibility forward. Give it some air. You have to be very convincing.’

  ‘I will be.’

  Lane Cove National Park was a narrow strip of land on the river of the same name, slender remains of the original forest and shrub lands now surrounded by Sydney’s leafy northern suburbs. It was a heavily visited park, and most walking tracks eventually took visitors down to the water. Grace followed the blue Audi along the park’s Riverside Drive. She knew before it stopped where they were going. A black Porsche was already parked where Griffin pulled up. A tall, red-haired woman in jeans and a red shirt was waiting near a picnic table. High-heeled sandals made her appear taller than she was. Grace recognised Sara McLeod out of her tracksuit and with her hair loose.

  Grace glanced around before getting out of her car. There were walkers nearby, but at a discreet distance, and a cyclist slowly making his way along the road. Against her ribcage, she felt her firearm. She hadn’t come here to step into the abyss.

  ‘Who’s this?’ she asked Griffin.

  ‘This is Sara. My associate. Sara, this is Grace.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard about you,’ the woman said. Her look was distant, mocking, even arrogant.

  ‘Let’s sit down,’ Griffin said. ‘Grace has something for sale, but more than that, she wants in.’

  ‘Into what?’ Sara said.

  They sat at the picnic table where there was a basket waiting. Sara took out a thermos and poured her and Griffin coffee. Grace glanced quickly between them. What was their agenda? Why were they sitting down with her like this? Kidd had vouched for her but was that enough?

  ‘Don’t be rude, Sara,’ Griffin said with a grin. ‘Offer some to Grace.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Grace said. ‘You were there when Kidd got shot. I saw you.’

  Sara laughed as she concentrated on pouring. ‘You do have eyes after all.’

  Laugh again. Then I’ll know it was you laughing on the phone the other night.

  ‘What were you doing there?’ Grace asked.

  Sara looked up slowly, raising her chin. She stared at Grace with hazel eyes. They were entirely cold, like discs of light shut off from any emotion.

  ‘What’s it got to do with you? What were you doing there?’

  ‘I told you,’ Griffin said. ‘Grace has something to sell. She was trying to sell it to Jon. Weren’t you?’

  ‘He didn’t want to buy. He didn’t even want to talk,’ Grace said.

  ‘He just ran.’

  ‘No spine,’ Sara said.

  ‘But we do want to talk,’ Griffin said. ‘And you want in.’ ‘What does she think “in” is?’

  ‘Money laundering,’ Grace said, to be met with silence from both Griffin and Sara. ‘That’s what this is all about. That’s my guess.’

  ‘Is it?’ Sara muttered.

  ‘Those sex workers at Life’s Pleasures, the ones who don’t get paid. Jirawan. If I got a forensic accountant on to that brothel, then that’s what they’d find. Money laundering.’

  ‘Then why don’t you?’ Sara threw at her.

  ‘That depends on what I get offered, doesn’t it?’

  Sara looked at Grace with cold-eyed contempt, as if it was an affront to share a picnic table with her.

  ‘You’re asking a lot, Grace,’ Griffin said. ‘You’re asking my client to trust you.’

  ‘Who is your client? You?’

  Sara snorted with contempt.

  ‘Don’t be gauche,’ Griffin said. ‘You don’t go around asking other people who their clients are. I’m here to make sure he doesn’t have to be bothered with this. If you want him to pay you, you have to respect his privacy.’

  ‘If you’re protecting his privacy, what’s Sara doing here?’

  ‘I’ve already told you,’ he said with a friendly smile. ‘She’s my associate.’

  ‘In that case, how do I know who I’m dealing with?’ Grace said. ‘If you’re not the main man, then maybe I’m wasting my time.’

  ‘My client will meet you and deal directly with you when you’ve proved yourself to him but not before.’

  ‘Why do I need to do that?’

  ‘Because he has no other way of knowing what your bona fides are,’ Griffin said. ‘It all gets back to what you want. My client can buy your passport and your tape. That’s straightforward enough. But you say you want more than that. That complicates things. You have to do something for him if you want to take that next step.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Sara said. ‘He wants this girl. Miss Brainless.’

  She tossed a photograph of Narelle Wong onto the table, one of the many publicity shots paid for by Mr Wong. Grace picked it up and looked up to see both Griffin and Sara staring at her. No distan
ce in their faces this time. In its place, anticipation and greed.

  ‘If you want this girl, it’s going to cost you,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll get paid,’ Sara said. ‘The client wants her, the passport and your tape together.’

  ‘If I do this, where does that leave me?’

  ‘In,’ Sara said, raising her eyebrows. ‘The way you wanted.’

  ‘It’s not enough.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re putting me in the position where I take all the risk. I’m the front. I’ve got nowhere to hide. We’ve talked a little about what the business is. Before I put myself on the line the way you want me to, I want some guarantees myself. I want to know more.’

  Griffin was leaning forward.

  ‘If you agree to this, then I’ll do that. I’ll talk to you about it myself.’

  Sara glanced quickly at him, seemingly a little taken aback.

  ‘When?’ Grace said.

  ‘After you make the arrangements and before you pick her up. Here. Tomorrow. We’ll have lunch. I’ll be waiting for you.’ He glanced at Sara. ‘Just me and Grace.’

  Sara was sitting with a very straight back. Grace looked at her expression and thought she knew what it meant. He’s seeing another woman. Doing it to you again.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll be here.’

  ‘We need to talk about money,’ Sara broke in. ‘That’s why you’re here. Because you’re the kind of person who can be bought.’

  ‘Careful, Sara,’ Griffin said quietly.

  ‘You pay me exactly what I ask for,’ Grace said.

  ‘Then tell us how much you want,’ Sara replied angrily.

  ‘I’ll think about it first. I’m not going to ask for too little. You pay me half before and half afterwards. Now, how do you want this done?’

  ‘Pick her up from her house in Chipping Norton, then drive north,’ Sara said. ‘There’s a service centre on the Newcastle freeway at Jilliby, north of Gosford. Take her there. She’ll recognise the car that’s going to pick her up. You just have to drop her off.’

  ‘That’s a long drive,’ Grace said.

  ‘But you’re being paid.’

  ‘How do I get her to agree to go with me?’

  ‘She will, believe me,’ Sara said. ‘Just tell her Elliot wants to see her. Get her to bring her ID with her. Her passport, her credit cards, birth certificate, everything. Tell her to dress down, clothes that can’t be traced. Wear something with a hood so she’s not easy to recognise. She’s not to bring any other clothes or personal effects with her and no mobile under any circumstances. You’ll be waiting for her at an agreed location. Don’t use a car that can be traced to you. If you have to, tell her you’re driving her there because Elliot’s going to take her to Coffs Harbour. From there, they’re going to fly to Cairns and then Elliot’s going to take her by yacht to Hong Kong.’

  Grace laughed. ‘She’s really going to believe that.’

  ‘She’ll believe it.’ Sara had a dangerous look in her eyes. ‘If that girl had a brain cell, it wouldn’t just be lonely, it’d be deranged.’

  Grace turned to Griffin, remembering Kidd’s words: he goes after any woman he can. ‘Who’s Elliot? You? Narelle Wong’s the sort of woman you find attractive, is she? Don’t you like grown-up women?’

  Sara threw the remains of her coffee onto the ground. Griffin glanced quickly at her as if startled. Then he turned back to Grace.

  ‘Why? Are you interested in knowing the sort of woman I’m attracted to?’

  ‘Maybe. Unless you two are an item.’

  Sara was looking at Griffin; waiting.

  ‘There’s always room for one more,’ Griffin said. ‘Sara wants what I want. She always has.’

  He smiled. Sara’s face was expressionless; the kind of mask you use to protect yourself, Grace thought.

  ‘When does this pick-up happen?’ she asked.

  ‘As soon as you can organise it.’ Sara stood and picked up the basket with the thermos. ‘I’m going. You and Joel can work out everything else.’

  She walked away, moving jerkily without looking back, got into her black Porsche and was gone quickly, too quickly for the narrow park road.

  Griffin watched her go.

  ‘You hurt her feelings,’ Grace said.

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You two are an item.’

  He turned back to her, his eyes seeming almost a blank, without emotion. ‘Why should you care?’

  ‘Because if you are Elliot, how come Sara hasn’t walked out on you?’

  ‘She can’t.’ He said it matter-of-factly. ‘She’ll always be there.’

  ‘Why?’

  He grinned. ‘We’ve been together since she was fifteen. She’s never had sex with anyone else.’

  He was boasting. Grace, feeling repulsed inside, laughed. ‘You can’t know that.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I can. There’ll never be anyone else. Not while I’m around.’

  ‘Then that must be true for you as well. She must be your first girlfriend. You’re the same age, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s never tied me down the way it has her.’

  ‘Where’d you meet her?’ Grace asked.

  ‘At a camp she used to go to. As soon as I saw her and found out who she was, I made sure we got together. I knew she’d understand me and could help me.’

  ‘But did you understand and help her?’

  ‘I taught her how to be strong. She didn’t know what strength was before she met me.’

  ‘So why does she take it from you? Other women, I mean. I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he said. ‘Maybe you don’t understand what’s between us. I’ve shown her a whole world she would never have known about. She’s done things she never would have done but for me.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? And what are they?’ she asked with a smile.

  Briefly, he was angry. ‘Why do you keep talking about her? Let’s talk about you and me instead.’ He grew calmer. ‘You’ve turned yourself out a bit better today. Better than the nothing clothes you had on yesterday. You’re attractive. You should dress better than you do.’

  You’ll never see me dress the way I like. That happens in my other life.

  ‘Why don’t you let your hair out?’ he asked.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I want to see how long it is. Maybe women with long hair attract me.’

  Unwillingly, but hiding it, Grace let out her dark brown hair, which slipped onto her shoulders and then down her back. Griffin reached forward to touch it. Instinctively, she drew back.

  ‘You don’t want me to do that.’

  ‘You’ve got a girlfriend. Sara. You’ve been with her from the beginning. You’ve just told me I don’t know what’s between you. That means you’ll always go back to her.’

  ‘I thought I’d made it clear that doesn’t have anything to do with you and me.’

  ‘Maybe it does for me. Maybe I see myself as special. I’m not the kind of person who shares.’

  ‘You are special. I told you that yesterday. I meant it. When the time comes, it will be just you and me. But right now I want to know what you know.’

  He seemed to be searching her face, much as Clive had done earlier that day, looking for something.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked. ‘What is it I know?’

  ‘Chris Newell is dead,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, Chris Newell is dead.’

  She sat still, unable to speak. She did not feel shock; it was relief so powerful she almost lost her grip on her persona.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Just take it from me. I’ve got good contacts, I hear things.’

  ‘How did he die?’

  Griffin smiled. ‘You don’t want to know the answer to that. The best thing for him is that it’s over now. Let’s just say he paid a debt. I can understand that. I always expect people to pay their debts. You can tell me what it
was like to look him in the eyes just before he threw petrol over you. Because he’s dead. He can’t come after you again.’

  She said nothing. Thought: I never have to be afraid of him again.

  ‘Aren’t you going to answer me?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking about anything at the time,’ she heard herself say. ‘It happened too quickly.’

  ‘No. There must be a memory in your head somewhere. Otherwise why were you so frightened of him?’

  ‘I met you to make a deal. We’ve made a deal and now I’m leaving.’

  ‘Answer my question or there’s no deal,’ he said.

  ‘I made one with Sara, if not with you.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m the one who calls the shots. If I say it’s not on, then that’s the end of it. You don’t get any cash.’

  This time, she was the one searching his face, trying to work out why he was asking her this. He really did want to know. It was the first time he’d shown any genuine emotion. He leaned forward, staring at her, almost impatient, his whole body in the grip of anticipation. She didn’t speak.

  ‘Tell me. What did you see?’ He was impatient.

  Someone unrecognisable. Maybe you could paint those eyes but not describe them.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It was like looking into the dark.’

  He sat back, watching her. Disappointment. Then detachment. All at once, she might have been a dressmaker’s dummy sitting there.

  ‘You have beautiful hair,’ he said in a distant voice. ‘It’s your hair I’m going to remember.’

  ‘I’ve got to get going. People will wonder where I am.’

  He stood up. Another persona flicked into place, overlaid on the negative he had just shown her. The public Joel Griffin was back.

  ‘I’ll hear from you,’ he said. ‘I’ll need bank account details for the payment.’

  ‘I’ll get them to you. See you.’

  She walked to her car at a normal pace; glanced back to see him watching her; waved in a simple way and drove away, resisting the desire to put her foot down, to speed. She was shaking but she held on. The only thing in her mind was the process of making her way safely through the traffic; it anchored her. She realised she could not tell Paul that Newell was dead. And he was. She was convinced of the truth of Griffin’s information. She had walked through a door into the strange taste of freedom, only to have it quickly replaced with the shock of her whole encounter with Griffin.