Private Sydney

by James Patterson

  By six am I had the desperate need to get out and clear my head. I changed into running clothes and left a note saying when I’d be back. Closing the door, I noticed dark grey clouds blanketing the sky. A cold front had hit and storms were brewing from the east.

  I didn’t bother stretching, just began jogging. Soon I was sprinting along the beach. Waves pounded and sprayed me as my leg muscles contracted and extended against the sand’s resistance. Trying to make sense of the past few days, I pushed harder, until my body ached with fatigue and lactic acid. Short of breath, I stopped and bent over, hands on knees. My chest heaved trying to get air.

  I had to face facts. Someone had attacked Eliza in her own home. She defended herself then, but opening up the mystery of Eric Moss to public scrutiny could get her hurt, or worse. Maybe Mark was right. I hadn’t been thinking clearly. What good was truth if it got people you cared about killed? Nothing would change who Eric Moss was to his daughter. Or how much he cared for her.

  One thing I did know. I had feelings for Eliza and wanted to protect her from any more hurt. The cost of exposing any cover-up could be too great. And would it really do any good? Her father was still gone.

  Chest still heaving, and shirt soaked with sweat, I headed back home, knowing what I had to do today.

  Chapter 109

  WE ARRIVED EARLY at the crematorium, hoping to avoid the media. Eliza met the minister who would conduct the brief service. As far as we knew, his would be the only eulogy, with a small group paying their respects.

  As Eliza sat, one hand on the coffin, in a private moment, a man with a wreath asked to say goodbye to his old boss. Within seconds he’d pulled out a camera from inside the wreath and was photographing Eliza in her wheelchair beside the coffin.

  I didn’t waste time evicting the man who, coincidentally, resembled a poorly fed vulture.

  Eliza turned to me, barely holding it together. ‘Is this ever going to stop?’ I’d reluctantly talked her out of an inquest for that very reason. It would raise more questions than it answered and what was left of Eric and Eliza’s reputations would be destroyed by Gillies and his cronies.

  I stood guard next to her from then on. A handful of people filtered through. Lang Gillies wasn’t one of them. Moss’s assistant, Oliver Driscoll, and the former financial officer, Renee Campbell, came forward and hugged Eliza. The pilot, Geoff Andren, took a seat without fuss.

  Mary quietly let me know there was a horde of press outside, like red fire ants at a barbecue. I told her to remind them this was a private service, for family and close friends only.

  I moved forward to take my seat next to Eliza and felt my phone buzz in my jacket pocket. I checked caller ID. It was Darlene. I walked towards the back of the church and answered.

  ‘Craig, we don’t have much time. I need to access the body.’

  ‘What?’ I couldn’t believe her timing. ‘The minister is about to start.’

  ‘I’m five minutes away. Trust me. You have got to stop the service!’

  ‘I need specifics, and they’d better be good,’ I told her.

  ‘Jack Morgan can explain. He’s calling in a minute. I’m almost there.’ The phone cut out.

  As if on cue, my mobile rang again. I recognised the caller ID.

  ‘Jack, what the hell is going on?’

  ‘When you told me about Eric Moss, something didn’t sit right. I did some digging and a CIA contact came through. A US air base has been extracting a number of undercover operatives from the Asia-Pacific region, codenamed Eagle-watch. There is supposed to be one rogue agent.’

  ‘You think it was Moss?’

  ‘Looks like he went off the grid, vanished. My contact just sent through a photo of Moss. CIA had him as deceased in a boat accident until a surveillance camera snapped him at a car rental place in Mascot. Time and date stamp registered six am today.’

  ‘After he was supposedly killed.’ I knew there was little picture documentation of Moss. ‘How can you be sure it’s him? We haven’t been able to establish facial recognition in anything we have.’

  ‘Beard’s shaved, glasses are gone. Craig, I’ve met the guy. It’s him.’

  ‘Then we’re about to cremate the wrong body.’

  ‘Sorry about the timing. The image just came through.’

  There was one thing I needed to know, unequivocally. ‘How sure are you about the timing of the photo and your source?’

  Jack didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’d trust him with my life.’

  I closed my eyes.

  Somehow I had to stop the funeral. I watched Eliza as she nodded for the minister to begin.

  ‘I’d like to welcome everyone on this sad day, to celebrate the life of a man few people knew as well as you who are gathered here.’

  It was now or never. I took a deep breath, then shouted: ‘Stop! There’s been a bomb threat and we need to evacuate the building.’

  Chapter 110

  THE MINISTER AND the dozen or so mourners turned around. I ran forward, arms outwards.

  ‘We need to clear the building. Bomb squad are on their way.’

  I didn’t look directly at the mourners. I couldn’t bear to see the distress on Eliza’s face.

  The minister urged people to grab their bags and move quickly and quietly towards the back doors, which Mary held open. Darlene and Johnny slipped in via a side entrance.

  We had to move fast. With the media outside, someone was bound to call the police. This could turn nasty.

  Eliza had refused to budge.

  ‘A bomb threat?’ she demanded. ‘Is this some perverted joke?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Eliza. There is no threat. I just needed to buy some time. There’s reason to believe the body in that coffin isn’t your father’s.’

  ‘What?’ She appeared hopeful at the news until Johnny approached the coffin clutching a handheld drill and crowbar.

  ‘You’re insane!’ she shouted. ‘Get away from there.’

  Johnny began removing screws on the lid while Darlene set up her mobile kit.

  Eliza was yelling at them to stop. She flinched with every whir of the drill. I could hear sirens outside. Time was running out so I grabbed the crowbar. Together Johnny and I began to lever off the lid.

  Eliza wheeled herself back in horror.

  I knew she would never forgive us for what we were doing.

  The lid gave way and a putrid smell seeped out.

  Darlene was wearing surgical gloves and a surgical mask and handed me the same as I looked down at the body. The face was badly bloated, more decomposed. A section of cheek was missing.

  The body was shrouded in a white sheet. No one had bothered to dress it. Darlene cut through the sheet with scissors before ripping it apart. She was looking for anything to suggest another cause of death.

  In his left side, irregular chunks of flesh were missing in small sections. On the upper left arm was a straight-edged mark.

  ‘See this wound?’ Darlene said. ‘The others look like they were caused by fish or trauma. This one’s a surgical excision.’

  Johnny snapped images with his phone.

  Loud banging on the wooden doors stopped us momentarily.

  Mary was still on guard at the back doors. ‘Craig, what do you want to do?’

  The police had arrived and over a loudspeaker we could hear them demanding we evacuate immediately.

  Darlene scraped a small piece of skin and dropped it into a half-sized tube. She quickly shoved it under her shirt at the back.

  I closed the coffin lid and we all stepped back.

  ‘We need to do what they say,’ I instructed.

  Mary opened the doors and Eliza wheeled through first. I quickly followed to explain about Jack’s call.

  ‘Why?’ Eliza said to me through clenched teeth.

  Two police in protective gear were feet away. I had to explain later. There was one thing I needed to know.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking. But did your father have a tattoo or sk
in lesion removed from his left arm? Any kind of minor operation?’

  She wheeled herself away, Mary close behind. I waited until they were clear.

  ‘There was no bomb scare,’ I shouted, hands raised in the air. ‘I made it up and acted alone.’

  Darlene and Johnny followed, passing Eliza in her chair.

  ‘Craig, you were right,’ Darlene whispered.

  Right now that wasn’t much consolation. We’d unleashed a shitstorm I had no way of controlling.

  Chapter 111

  ELIZA TRIED TO fathom what had just taken place. Had Craig completely lost his mind? Lying about a bomb to break into the coffin at the service attended by the few people who still had any respect for her father.

  Numb, she watched bulbs flash as police handcuffed Craig and ushered him into the back of a marked car.

  A team of heavily padded police entered the building.

  Johnny was clearly shaken by what they had done. He squatted on his ankles as police questioned him. Darlene stood defiantly, casting sympathetic looks towards Eliza.

  None of this made sense. These people had been so kind until now. The last thing she could do for her father was to make sure the service was dignified. He had died alone, in a violent explosion. Everything he’d worked for, his innovations and dedication to helping others was instantly erased. More than that, he had been publicly vilified, now physically desecrated.

  A man who never drank would be remembered for dying in a drunken stupor trying to avoid charges for stealing from the charity organisation he’d dedicated his life to.

  ‘All clear,’ the police announced and left the crematorium.

  Eliza wheeled herself inside right up to the casket.

  She placed a hand on the polished wood and tried to connect with the man she thought she knew better than herself.

  Had his life been one giant lie? Part of her wanted to hate him for leaving her without an explanation, or even the chance to say goodbye. If he had met her one last time, how could she have believed anything he had to say, knowing everything up until now was a lie?

  Anger surged through Eliza’s veins and her heart accelerated. Her breathing became shallow and rapid. Air. She needed to get outside and get some air.

  She moved and felt something dig into her thigh. A plastic specimen tube had dropped into her chair. She picked it up and thought of what Craig had asked her.

  Did her father have any tattoos or skin lesions removed?

  The last time she’d seen him was in the city office. He’d spilled tea on his shirt and changed before a meeting. He always wore a white Bonds singlet underneath. She thought back. His skin was pale to the elbows and tanned below the level of his sleeves. There were definitely no lesions, marks or scars on his upper arms.

  Eliza took a series of slow, deep breaths, counting to four with every exhalation. The heart flutter slowed and she was finally able to speak.

  She glared at Johnny, who was blessing himself in the entrance. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. ‘I am so sorry, but we had good –’

  ‘Tell me what Darlene saw. Inside the …’

  He took a step towards her. ‘A mark that didn’t appear natural. I mean it didn’t look like a fish –’

  She wheeled closer. ‘Tell me exactly what it was.’

  He seemed to hesitate.

  ‘I’m sick of being protected. Lied to. Tell me the truth, Johnny.’

  ‘It looked like a wide section of skin had been excised.’ He pointed to the outer, upper part of his left arm. ‘About here.’

  ‘Why did Darlene sample it?’

  ‘To see if it was done before death. Microscopy would show if it had healed.’

  Eliza spun around and raced out the doors. When she realised Johnny was still behind, she held up the specimen.

  ‘Are we going to get this to Private or not?’

  Chapter 112

  MARY PICKED ME up from the police station. I was escorted out the front of the building to run the media gauntlet. Public humiliation was part of the punishment for trying to stop a cover-up, it seemed. I just hadn’t figured out who was directly involved.

  My lawyer had hoped to label me a whistleblower who would be legally protected from prosecution. The problem was, we were only protected if we actually worked for the government institution we were trying to expose. Laws recently passed under the guise of anti-terrorist measures were more likely to bury whistleblowers. It also gave secret agencies unprecedented powers without scrutiny or recourse.

  That worried me more than charges pending for interfering with a body. If Eric Moss’s corpse had been substituted – either while still in the water or while in the morgue – someone had wanted him cremated quickly and with few questions asked. The ambassador’s cronies could have murdered Moss with impunity, if he’d offended or compromised the US government. The question was whether the Australian government was involved as well. What was Lang Gillies’s involvement? It would explain the rush to funeral service and cremation.

  The other possibility was that Moss was still alive and managed to somehow fake his death. But that meant he needed access to a body, or killed a man to take his place.

  With police and authorities satisfied the case was closed and would remain that way, there was little chance of getting to the truth.

  On top of that, I’d just put a giant target on Private Sydney’s back.

  Mary brought the car around and I climbed into the passenger seat, unable to forget the horror on Eliza’s face as we broke into the coffin. Jack Morgan’s intel had to be accurate. But I’d never be able to prove it.

  Mark Talbot had realised this was far bigger than any of us knew.

  Mary dropped me outside Private’s building and I headed inside. Collette greeted me with a long hug.

  ‘I’m so proud of you.’ She wrestled back a tear but didn’t elaborate. ‘You better get to the lab.’

  I was confused when Johnny appeared in the corridor outside, face beaming.

  ‘Lucky we have a Gene-IE to grant us wishes,’ he said.

  Darlene brushed past in her white coat.

  To my surprise, Eliza was at the computer desk behind the lab door and looked up at me.

  ‘You took your time,’ she said with a glint in her green eyes. ‘Leaving us to do all the work.’

  I had an overwhelming urge to hug her, which I didn’t fight. She responded very tightly, then slowly broke away.

  ‘What are you doing standing around? I’m still paying you to find my father.’

  Her smile made the morning’s events worth it. ‘All right then.’ I stepped back, fully realising Eliza was the reason I cared so much about the case.

  ‘First, though,’ she added, ‘there’s something I need to tell you.’ Her tone was suddenly grave. ‘And I don’t think you’re going to like it.’

  Chapter 113

  I SUGGESTED WE talk outside. My paranoia about surveillance meant Eliza and I left our phones at reception. This time, I didn’t want to take any chances.

  ‘Keep all the doors locked,’ I advised Collette. ‘Don’t let anyone in we don’t already know and trust, and don’t accept any deliveries.’

  ‘I won’t let you down,’ she said, locking the doors behind us.

  Whatever it was Eliza wanted to reveal had me concerned. I opted for a café we hadn’t been to before.

  I had no idea what this morning could have triggered. If ADIA or the CIA had murdered Moss and had switched his body in the coffin for some reason, they’d be mighty pissed off with this morning’s events. And if they had nothing to do with the death, they’d be back on Eric’s tail now they knew he wasn’t dead. Which meant on Eliza’s tail too.

  The hissing of the machines and grinding beans made eavesdropping almost impossible. We found a seat in the corner and ordered two lattes, and a chicken salad on sourdough to share.

  As soon as the waiter left, Eliza began.

  ‘A couple of days ago, flowers arrived for the accounta
nt in the office next to mine. Inside the envelope that came with them was something addressed to me, asking him to hand-deliver a micro USB.’

  Whoever sent it had to know all mail and deliveries to Eliza would be monitored. ‘Is it from your dad?’

  ‘It has to be. It contains a file with the text of a kid’s story he used to read to me, word for word. I knew it by heart, so Dad didn’t need to remind me.’

  ‘Was there anything else on it? Maybe some encrypted files?’

  ‘I asked my neighbour, who’s an IT whiz. He said there was nothing else on it.’

  ‘Who else knew you read that book together?’

  She moved the salt and pepper to the side of the table to make way for the coffees. ‘No one.’

  It was also plausible there were encoded or encrypted files that couldn’t be readily deciphered. Whoever sent the USB didn’t want it seen by the authorities.

  ‘What’s the book?’ I asked.

  ‘It was part of a series. Oh, The Things You Can See. This one was about Asia and highlighted exotic animals, costumes and landmarks. You know the sort of thing, orangutans and rainforests, panda bears, warriors and the Great Wall of China. I loved the intricacy of the pictures. They were works of art in their own right.’

  If Eric Moss wasn’t Hans Gudgast, maybe this was a clue to where he had been, or where he intended to go. Even so, Asia encompassed a broad range of countries.

  ‘Did anywhere seem to mean something special to him? Or did he talk about any of those places?’

  ‘Dad insisted I learn about the world, not just our backyard.’

  I swallowed a mouthful of coffee. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  She poured sugar into hers. ‘I was going to, only that guy broke into my house. Then I saw the TV news.’ She looked around the café. ‘If this is how Dad wanted me to remember him, I didn’t want anyone taking or –’

  ‘Dissecting it like a piece of forensic evidence.’