Two-Way Cut

by Garry Disher

  The woman went white, reached for the intercom. Like a whip, Leah slapped the womans hand away and said, No, take me there.

  Leah followed as the woman hurried along the corridor. Doors on either side opened on to high-ceilinged offices and conference rooms. The wood panelling gleamed from a hundred years of polishing; original oil paintings hung on the walls; the ornate plasterwork was free of dust. Leah thought there was probably some credence to Tess’s claim that the school placed its public image ahead of the education and welfare of its pupils.

  The receptionist came to a heavy, partly open door marked Principal, knocked and was about to poke her head around it when Leah pushed past, finding herself in an airy corner office lined with books. Ivy on the cloistered walkway outside filtered the afternoon sun and dust motes winked in the gauzy light. Books and folders were heaped on an antique table and there were files and a laptop on the desk, which sat solidly on a densely woven rug.

  Dr Heyward, the receptionist said, this person has news

  Leah cut her off. I’m here about Tess Quant.

  The principal regarded her gravely for a moment, then nodded at the receptionist. Thank you, Mrs Webb. Ill handle this now.

  If you’re sure?

  I’m sure.

  With a sniff, the woman was gone. Dr Heyward rose from behind her desk. She wore a linen jacket over designer jeans, dangling earrings and bright lipstick. Her hair was long, chaotic, scraped back from her assessing face by a pair of huge red hair clips. Half-lens spectacles hung from her neck by a fine gold chain. Her nails were short, pink, and well cared for. She was no more than forty years old; Leah had been expecting a stern, remote, sixty-year-old.

  Are you a detective from Abbotts ? Have you found Tess?

  Yes, Ive found Tess, no, I’m not a detective, Leah said. She paused. But I used to be a police officer.

  Dr Heyward stared at her for a long moment. Are you from the press?

  No.

  A frown. Then who are you?

  Leah decided to be frank. My name is Leah Flood. I was

  The police whistleblower! Dr Heyward exclaimed, her brow clearing.

  Yes.

  Brave woman. But whats your relationship to Tess? And where is she?

  Shes somewhere safe, and not coming back to school. And shes not hurt, not that you’ve asked how she is.

  The principals lips had gone thin and tight. Whats your role in this?

  I’m looking after Tess’s interests, since no one else seems to be.

  Dr Heyward raised an elegant eyebrow. I see. And you’re including myself and the school in that judgment.

  Yes.

  It might interest you to know that Tess has been a problem child ever since she came to us, but lets forget that for the moment. Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like tea, coffee, something stronger?

  Leah remained standing. I want answers. I want action.

  Oh, bully for you, Ms Flood.

  You may call me Leah.

  Leah it is, the woman said dryly. And what, exactly, do you expect me to do for you?

  Leah felt obscurely as if she were a kid again, hauled before the principal for some wrongdoing. Thered been several such occasions when she was young. You can be straight with me. for a start.

  Dr Heyward seemed to curl her lip but said nothing.

  Tess told me that she was sexually abused by a member of your staff and you did nothing about it.

  Dr Heyward didn’t move a muscle. Long seconds ticked by, and then something seemed to go out of her, as if shed deflated by a minute degree. Brian Vale, the swimming coach.

  Yes.

  Dr Heyward began a series of slow nods. Finally she said, I did do something about it. I acted promptly, but Tess had already made up her mind about me and run away. I very quickly found two other pupils who have been abused or claim abuse.

  Leah hadn’t realised how on edge shed been, waiting to hear something like this, until she let out a long, ragged, relieved breath and sank into a chair. Thank God.

  Dr Heyward nodded and also sat. She wasn’t about to admit dereliction of duty, though. She wasn’t about to admit something that might get her, or the school, sued. She was watching and waiting to see what Leah would do or say.

  Leah said, You hired Abbotts to find Tess?

  With her familys permission of course.

  The detective who was following Tess passed news back to Mr Abbott, who kept you informed.

  Correct.

  Who was in the loop?

  I don’t follow.

  Its all a matter of timing. Before investigating your friend, the child molester, did you absent-mindedly or carelessly or viciously pass on to him any information from the detective following Tess?

  I don’t like your tone. As soon as

  Leah wouldn’t let her finish. Vale had a very good reason for wanting to get rid of Tess before anyone else found her. He feared exposure, and needed her dead. He almost succeeded.

  Dr Heyward went white. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Vale hired a hitman. All the hitman had to do was follow the detective, all the way to Tess. He killed the detective. Tess and I were next, only we got lucky.

  What nonsense. Get out. If you have Tess, I should like to see her at once.

  If you don’t believe me, check with Mr Abbott, Tess said. He has a dead agent and a live killer on his hands, and would welcome some answers from you.

  Dr Heyward regained her composure. Brian Vale was never in the loop, as you put it. He had no way of knowing anything about the search for Tess. No access to me, my office, my phone. In fact, I suspended him immediately.

  Leah swallowed. Had she got it all wrong? If Vale had no access to information, then who had hired the killer?

  It might interest you to know, Dr Heyward went on, that the police found evidence on Brians laptop that he belongs to a paedophile ring. As a result, theyve been through the entire school, confiscating computers, interviewing staff and students. Its been hell.

  Leah went cold. Maybe the members of Vales paedophile ringsome of them wealthy, all of them secretive and in constant contact with each other via the Netwere behind this. But how had they got their information?

  Dr Heyward was staring at her with mingled compassion and triumph. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to—

  Who else? Leah demanded. Who else knew where Tess was at any given moment?

  Why, her family, of course.

  What, you just kept phoning and e-mailing India?

  Dr Heyward gestured in faint embarrassment. Well, not exactly. We contacted the High Commission as soon as it was apparent that Tess had run away, and some time later got a return call from Tess’s mother who, it turns out, is in Paris. Apparently she has left her husband. She said she didn’t want the police involved and asked us to hire Abbotts to find Tess. Dr Heyward shook her head wearily, a woman obliged to deal politely with the rich, careless parents of indulged and neglected children. I could be charitable and say that Tess’s mother is a tad distracted at the moment. Ive been sending her regular updates by voice mail. Meanwhile her husband is traveling around India on official duties and is content to leave it up to his runaway wife. Dr Heyward shook her head again. That is one seriously dysfunctional family, if you don’t mind my saying so.

  Leah nodded. Ain’t that the truth.

  Meanwhile the best cooperation we’ve had is from Tess’s half-brother.

  Leah froze.

  A moment later she sprang out of her seat, and was running before she reached Dr Heywards highly polished door.

  chapter 21

  It was 4 p.m., and the roads were choked: 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. shift workers heading for home, schoolchildren in cars and buses, couriers and delivery drivers making the final run of the day. Leah could see that she stood little chance of catching a taxi. She hurried from the school gates to the nearest shops, where she waited in agitation at the kerb, punching a number into her mobile phone.

&nb
sp; Jill, its Leah again.

  Hey, thanks, we caught those two bozos in the Range Rover. It was just like you said, shotties, speed, ecstasy, cash…

  Jill, this is urgent.

  Pause. Yeah? What?

  Leah explained. Her ex-colleague listened, and at the end of it said, So you’re saying the half-brother hired a hitman?

  Yes.

  I don’t know, it all sounds a bit far-fetched. Whats this got to do with those characters in the Range Rover?

  Look, Jill, Ill explain later. Meanwhile Tess is with her half-brother right now and

  Jill was all business. Address?

  Leah gave it. Hes probably got more sense than to try anything so soon but

  Well sort it, Jill said, breaking the connection.

  Leah waited in a swirl of grit and exhaust fumes and, twenty minutes later, was in a taxi. Progress was slow, jerky, with short, speedy runs followed by long periods of idling in traffic or at lights. She tried to keep still, but felt her body urging the traffic to move.

  To distract herself she tried to work it out. Ian’s mother died when he was little and his father married again. He found himself with an indifferent and unloving stepmother and later a little sister. Then his beloved father dies and his stepmother remarries. Hes a damaged kid, like Tess. As he sees it, he has no one. Tess means little to him. But Tess also inherited a trust fund from their father, money that would come to him if she were to die.

  But why wasn’t his own half a million dollars enough?

  Hed moved back to the family home. Had he been forced to sell his apartment? Was he hiding from creditors? Leah saw a young man who liked to gamble, who might make and lose fortunes and owe money to the wrong people.

  Or maybe he was simply greedy. Maybe he didn’t think that Tess was entitled to any of their fathers money.

  It was 5.05 when she reached Tess’s home. She paid off the driver at the kerb and hurried in, running swiftly over the lawn to avoid the noisy gravelled drive. The Saab was no longer parked outside.

  She paused at the front door. It was ajar. She pushed it gently, then stood with her back hard against the adjacent wall. The door swung open; no one yelled or charged or shot at her. She darted inside and crouched behind a hallstand and listened. The house was silent.

  She ventured further into the house and came to the study doorway. She could hear the soft whirring of the computer. Otherwise the room was dark. Someone had closed the curtains, she noticed, as she poked her head around the edge of the door. The only illumination came from the computer monitor. She could smell stale cigarette smoke, stale perspiration, the odours of a man who might spend all of his waking hours cooped up in a cave. Why hadn’t she noticed them before?

  And then something sharper, cleaner, fresher. She entered the room, trying to put a name to it. Aftershave, that was it. Something tangy. And just as her mind was processing that information, the door was slammed behind her and the main light was switched on.

  Hello, bitch.

  Leah swung around. He must have been in one of the other rooms along the hallway, and followed her in. Allynson, Sergeant Allynson, ringleader of the men who’d made her run the gauntlet. Friend of the man who’d committed suicide.

  Sergeant, Leah said, automatically and obediently acknowledging his rank.

  Allynson laughed harshly. Not any more, he said. Its plain John Allynson now, 7-Eleven proprietor, thanks to you.

  Leah reached for the .38 in her jacket but heard a sound to her left, and began to swivel around to meet the new danger. Too late. A strong arm clamped around her windpipe, another around her waist. She struggled to get at the .38 but Allynson, laughing, reached in and snatched it away.

  The other man let her go. She turned around. Senior Constable Summers. Or maybe it was plain Rob Summers now, taxi driver or cleaner or… Hed been in the room all along, concealed behind the sofa. Both men wore jeans, trainers and T-shirts—and latex gloves. Both had put on weight. They had the vicious, puffy faces of disappointed men who’d turned to drink.

  Leah said, Did Jill set this up?

  Allynson laughed. Jill? Nah. Shes on your side, stupid cow. But she did let slip to someone, and that someone rang us, and here we are.

  Leah watched him. Clearly he knew that the police had been called to this address, but equally clearly he didn’t seem concerned. He’d probably made a few calls and Jills request for police attendance had been countermanded or passed off as a false alarm.

  He seemed to read her mind, and gave her a sneering grin. Thats right, sweetheart, no ones coming to this little party, only you and me and Rob. Cosy, eh?

  Leah said, The young woman who lives here, Tess, her life’s in danger.

  I wouldn’t know about that, Allynson said.

  Was she here when you arrived?

  He shrugged. We saw a sheila drive off with some bloke in a Saab.

  Her half-brother, Leah said. Hes been trying to kill her.

  So?

  So forget about your beef with me for the moment and call it in: descriptions, make of car, time, direction, everything. There could be something about the car in one of these filing cabinets, like the rego number. Call your mates, or call it in anonymously, I don’t care, but theres no reason she should die just because you two heroes hate my guts.

  Shed said it heatedly and could see that Allynson believed her. He began to bite his lower lip as he thought the issues through, now and then glancing at Summers for support.

  All right.

  He watched while Leah searched the filing cabinets. Eventually she found a folder labelled CAR, which contained registration papers for the Saab. She passed it to Allynson, who took out a mobile phone and a moment later turned away to mutter into it, careful not to give his name or the name of his contact.

  He completed the call and pocketed the phone. All sorted. Now were going to sort you out.

  Leah tensed. Allynson began to crowd her with his body, Summers flanking him as if to grab her if she gave Allynson the slip. She backed toward the bookcase, half hoping that she could bring it down on the two men. She reached out a hand, tugged on a shelf. It was rock solid.

  They grinned, still advancing on her. She said, Are you going to kill me?

  Allynson gave her a look of mock surprise. Why? Do you deserve to die? What do you think, Rob? Does she deserve to die?

  Well, Summers replied, a mate of ours offed himself because of the filthy stuff she spread about him, ruining his name and his career, so an eye for an eye sounds fair enough to me.

  Fair enough to me, too, Allynson said, and he lunged.

  At first Allynson and Summers played with Leah, shoving her between them to keep her off balance. One man would slap her face, the other punch her in the stomach—not with any force, but with contempt. Then Summers fondled her painfully and Allynson ripped her shirt at the neck. She fought back, kicking, punching, scratching, ducking and weaving, but they were too big, too solid, too close to her.

  When the shot came, Leah expected pain, a punching impact, a sensation of the bullet tearing through her flesh, tendons, bones. Instead, Allynsons neck erupted and his heavy frame was propelled against her. He must have moved into the line of fire at the last moment, his hands reaching for her. He tried to turn, spraying her with blood. He toppled, some of the light leaking from his eyes, then fell to his knees, taking her with him.

  She didn’t know why Summers had shot him. She crawled out from under Allynsons massive weight, intending to shelter under the desk, but heard him whisper, Help me. He was bleeding profusely. She tore off her ruined shirt, packed his wound with it, then used her belt to bind it in place. She was splashed with blood now, sticky with it, her hands and knees sliding on the polished floorboards.

  Meanwhile she was dimly aware of shouts and movement above her head and all around the room. She tried to map the movements with her ears, not daring to look up and invite eye contact and another shot. She could hear several people. Suddenly Summers was on the
floor with her, frightened, bewildered. No gun. Dimly she realised that it wasn’t Summers who’d shot Allynson.

  Then some of the shouts resolved themselves, became coherent, orderly. Police! voices said. On the floor! Now! Hands behind your heads!

  Leah couldn’t get up. Somehow shed got Allynsons head in her lap. She put pressure on the bandage, wiped his ashen face, and tried to transmit something essentially human and compassionate to his frightened eyes. And she stayed there until other hands prized hers away from Allynson and ambulance officers took him away. Kind arms helped her to her feet and Jill was saying gently, Leah, everythings okay, everythings okay.

  chapter 22

  It was evening now and they were sitting in the kitchen, a costly room fitted with granite benchtops, teak panelling, copper and stainless steel saucepans hanging from hooks. The table and chairs were the only welcoming objects in the entire room, Leah thought, as she sat hunched over a mug of tea, staring at the wooden table top and years of scars and scratches. She glanced across at Tess, who was chewing at her thumbnail, her face tense. But Tess had also matured in the past few hours. Leah could see resolve in her face, and signs of a furious internal accounting. An old expression popped into Leah’s head: Wake up to yourself. Well, thats what Tess seemed to be doing.

  Tess caught Leah’s glance and sat upright, shoving both hands into her lap and arranging a grin. Bad habit, chewing your nails.

  It seemed to be a way of saying that shed identified another flaw in herself and would deal with it. A thumping sound came from the study along the hallway. The crime-scene technicians were still in there, taking photographs, videotaping, dusting for fingerprints, diagramming blood spatters and gunshot trajectories. Allynson was in hospital. He was expected to live.

  Summers was in custody.

  So was Carl Stannage. He’d been questioned in relation to the arrest of the men in the Range Rover, and when he’d denied knowing them or owning the vehicle, and called in his lawyer, the police had placed him under surveillance. Instead of staying put, he’d come gunning for Tess, and walked in on the scene in the study. He’d thought Leah was Tess, fired at her, and hit Allynson instead. But by then the police were pouring into the house after him.