Read Deadly Diplomacy Online

Authors: Jean Harrod

Tags: #Crime, #EBF, #Murder, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Thriller, #Women Sleuths

Deadly Diplomacy (31 page)

All Jess’s protective instincts welled up. “You know I will, Susan. Now you have a good look round and see if anything’s missing while I go and phone Inspector Sangster.”

There was no protest from Susan this time.

Jess walked down the stairs to the front door. Despite the security chain, it didn’t look very secure. She dragged the hall table across the floor and pushed it lengthwise against the door, like a barricade.

In the kitchen, she picked her way through the smashed china on the floor and rattled the handle of the back door to check it was locked. She reached into her trouser pocket for her mobile and dialled Tom Sangster.

“Jess.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “Where
are
you.”

“At Susan’s house… It’s a mess… the whole place has been turned upside down… We came to get the diary.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Did he get it?”

“No. Susan had it hidden, in a wash bag in the cabinet under the bathroom sink.” She didn’t wait for him to say anything. “Listen, Tom, I need to tell you this quickly, in case anything… happens. I think someone wants this diary because of those codes in it. Remember I told you there was a jumble of letters and numbers on the back page?”

“Yes.”

“The first three lines are passwords and memorable data for a bank account in Ellen Chambers’ name in the Turks Bank. It’s in the Turks and Caicos Islands, a British Overseas Territory in the Caribbean, an offshore tax haven. There’s two million dollars stashed in that account.”

“So she
was
taking bribes.”

“Well….” Jess hesitated. “According to my colleague in the British High Commission, the British Government discovered this bank account a couple of weeks ago.”


A couple of weeks ago?

“Yes. The Financial Crimes Unit in the Territory uncovered two transactions of a million dollars going into that account. They routinely monitor funds going in and out of the Territory for criminal activities like money-laundering.”

“Are you telling me the Australian Feds knew about this?” There was no mistaking the anger in his voice.

“Yes. I believe that information was contained in the intelligence report that London sent your Government.” She paused. “And that’s what prompted the Federal Police to investigate Ellen and Chen Xiamen in the first place.”


I see
.”

“But the thing is,” she hesitated. “It’s all a bit too… easy. The British authorities spotted the two transactions immediately. And Susan found the account online and accessed it with the codes in Ellen’s diary in a matter of minutes.” She paused. “I think the account was
meant
to be discovered. You see, I think Ellen found out she was being framed, and wrote those codes in her diary as evidence.” She paused again. “I also think there’s a second bank account that we haven’t found. That’s what the other three lines of words and figures in the back of her diary must represent. That’s why someone wants it so badly. Because if we find that account, I think we’ll discover who murdered Ellen Chambers and who’s behind all this.”

“Right,” Sangster said. “Lock yourselves in. I’m coming to get you.”

“That maniac smashed the front door lock when he broke in. I’ve slipped the security chain in place and pushed the hall table against the door to barricade us in.” She hesitated. “Who was the fourth murder victim, Tom?”

He paused. “Belinda Harris, the Minister’s daughter.”


Oh dear God!

“I think the killer went to the house looking for Anthony Harris and found his daughter instead. She was stabbed in the heart, no bullet in the head this time. Can you
see
how dangerous this man is, Jess? It’s like a switch inside him has been activated. He likes to kill. I think he’s an expert stalker and hunter. He’s enjoying the thrill of the chase and the kill too much to stop now.”

“Who
is
he, Tom?”

Sangster paused. “One of ours gone bad… DC Roberts. He transferred to the Brisbane Force from Melbourne last year.”

Jess was in shock. “But why? Did he know Ellen? What’s he doing this for?” She paused to breathe. “You said there were two killers, Tom? Who else is involved?”

“Look, talking is wasting time. Wait there, Jess. I’m on my way.” And he hung up.

A policeman?
Jess couldn’t believe it. No wonder Ellen was so afraid. She stared out of the window into the back garden. Goose bumps shivered down her back and arms. No sign of any movement.
He’s an expert stalker and hunter. He’s enjoying the thrill of the chase and the kill too much to stop now.
She snapped the blinds shut. She didn’t feel safe in this house.

She went upstairs and found Susan sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at a photo in a frame.

It looked to Jess like someone had punched the glass with their fist and smashed it. “Is that Ellen?” she asked.

Susan nodded. “It was taken here last December.” An angry tear burned down her cheek. “Why did he have to go and break it?”

Jess tried to comfort her. “She was glamorous, your sister. Lovely long blonde hair.”

“Yes.” Susan rubbed a hand over her short hair. “I missed out on all the good genes.”

“Nonsense, you look just like her.”

“I can’t believe she’s not here any more.”

“I know.” Jess looked around. The intruder had tipped all the clothes out of the wardrobe and drawers, onto the floor. “Tom Sangster’s on his way to pick us up,” she said, as she tiptoed her way through the debris strewn across the floor to close the curtains. A movement outside caught her eye. She could see a car pulling up a few doors away. She rushed over to switch off the light.

“What’s wrong, Jess?”

“Tom can’t have got here that quickly.”

Susan went over to the window. “It’s a white car.”

“The police use white, unmarked cars, don’t they?” Jess watched a man get out of the car. She screwed up her eyes as he stepped under a street light… those dark clothes… that peeked cap pulled down over his eyes. Her heart started thumping. She watched him put his hand inside his jacket. A flash of metal glinted under the light. She grabbed Susan’s arm. “Is there a back way out of here?”

“Yes, through the alley.”


Let’s go!
Put that diary back in its hiding place in the bathroom cabinet. If he gets us, he won’t get that too.”

Susan rushed into the bathroom.

Waiting for Susan at the top of the stairs, Jess heard the front gate squeak open. “Quick, Susan.” She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, with Susan right behind her.

She could hear footsteps crunching along the front path.

Susan was fumbling with the bottom bolt of the back door. “It’s stuck.”

Jess pushed her aside and wriggled the bolt with all her strength. It slid back with a thump, catching her finger in the metal casing. A drop of blood oozed out. “Come on.” Jess opened the back door, and ran down the path, misty rain blowing in her face. She could hear him ramming the front door against the hall table, trying to force it open.

At the back gate, Susan gasped and turned back.

Jess grabbed her arm. “What are you
doing?

“The gate’s locked. The key’s inside.”

“Forget it, we’ll climb over.” Jess grabbed the top of the wooden fence and pulled herself up. Scrambling up onto the top of the fence, her legs straddled either side. “
Come on, Susan.

Susan shinned up the fence with ease, swung her legs over and lowered herself into the alley.

Jess jumped down, falling awkwardly in her high heels.

Susan helped her to her feet, and started running.

Jess tried to follow, but her heels kept sinking in the mud. Wrenching one shoe off, then the other, she ran barefoot down the alley with a shoe in each hand. Reaching the end, she followed Susan into the street. The soft rain had turned harder, and was beating down on the pavement in front of her.

“Head for the church,” Susan shouted over her shoulder.

Jess looked back, thinking she saw a flash of movement.

“Hurry
up,
Jess.” Susan darted over the road and headed into the field.

Jess followed. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark now, but she hadn’t a clue where she was. The ground was soft and heavy going in the field. She could feel wet mud oozing through her toes, as she kept looking over her shoulder. Heart hammering with exertion, she gasped for breath. Finally, she squeezed through a thick hedge and found herself in a church graveyard. Collapsing on the ground behind a tall gravestone next to Susan, she doubled over to get her breath back.

“Have we lost him?” Susan asked.

Jess was still curled up, breathing hard. “I think so.”

“We need to get out of the rain.”

Jess nodded. Pulling herself to her feet, she rushed over to the heavy church door. It creaked as she turned the handle and pushed it open. She beckoned Susan to follow her inside. Closing the door behind them, the cool, damp air wrapped around her. It was a relief to get out of the rain. Already accustomed to the dark, her eyes were drawn to the only source of light, at the altar. Walking towards it, she saw a large clay pot filled with pebbles. On the top, several tea lights had been lit. Behind it, stood a large board, covered with prayer notes.

In the gloomy, flickering light, she looked down at her mud-caked feet. She was still gripping one shoe in her right hand. Where was the other one? She reached into her trouser pocket for her mobile, but it wasn’t there. She turned to Susan. “Give me your mobile.”

Susan gasped. “It’s on charge at home.”

Jess felt her stomach sink.

She looked around the church to get her bearings. They’d entered through the main door at the side and were now at the front altar. Rows of wooden pews lined the nave all the way to the back, where there was a narrow staircase leading to an upper gallery. Next to that was another exit door. She walked towards the back of the church.

Susan followed, her trainers making a squelching sound on the stone floor as she went.

Reaching the back door, Jess tried the handle. It was open. She looked out. The rain was still falling like stair rods. She closed the door and flopped down in the pew beside it.

Susan sat down next to her.

Both of them were so shell-shocked, neither spoke. Jess looked down at her muddy clothes and feet. She could feel her soaked hair plastered flat against her head. But she felt comforted somehow in the church. The scent of lilies from the two altar vases filled the air. She breathed in. The quiet peace began to calm her raging mind. Then, she froze…

She heard the sound of a car drawing up. A door slammed. Light footsteps crunched on the gravel path.

A wind seemed to blow up from nowhere and whistle through the old timbers. All the tea lights near the altar went out. They were in total darkness. Heart banging in her chest, as the front door handle rattled, Jess grabbed Susan’s arm. “
Quick! Let’s go!

Pushing Susan out of the back door, she heard something whistle past her and thud into the wooden door. She whipped the long, silver key out of the lock, went out and slammed the door behind her. Fumbling to lock the door from the outside, she heard footsteps pounding towards them on the stone floor inside. With shaking hands, she turned the key in the lock and threw it in the bushes.

“Run,” she shouted at Susan.

31

Sangster pulled up outside the suburban house and switched off the engine and lights. He knew he was at the right address because he could see Jess’s white Holden parked in the driveway. Winding down the window to scan the street, he winced at the reek of fire drifting over from the city. This was all too quiet.

The house was in darkness except for a light on in a downstairs room. His eyes swept across the façade and windows, looking for any sign of life inside.

The front door was wide open.

He pulled his gun out of its holster. Back-up was on its way, but he couldn’t afford to wait. Jess and Susan might be hurt inside. Every nerve alive, he got out of the car and crept up the path. His eyes darted around. He couldn’t afford a mistake. Roberts was a formidable killer.

A sudden gust of wind rattled through the palm trees, making him spin round.

No one.

Reaching the front door, he listened for any movement.

Belinda Harris’s body flashed into his head.

He steeled himself for what he might find inside as he slipped silently through the open door into the hallway. Dead silence.

Gun poised, he moved into the sitting room where the light was on. Picking his way through the debris on the floor, he went into the kitchen. A handbag lay on the draining board.
Was that Jess’s?

He noticed the open back door into the garden. Was anyone out there? He had to leave it.

Moving back into the hallway, he climbed the stairs step by step in the darkness. The top stair creaked, making his heart pound. He braced himself, but there was no sound or movement. Quickly, he checked the bathroom and back bedroom. When he went into the front bedroom and looked around, he let his arm drop.

There was no one in the house.

His sheer relief at not finding any more bodies left him drained, and he stood to take a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. Then he ran down the stairs and out front to his car. Opening the boot, he grabbed his police torch and raced back into the house, straight through the kitchen, and out to the back gate. He lifted the latch but it was locked. He hauled himself to the top of the fence and saw an alley running between two rows of houses. Shining his torch onto the ground, the beam picked out some fresh footprints in the soft earth. As he lowered himself down into the alley, his shoes sunk in the wet mud. He stood and looked around. Twisting his wrist to change the flood beam to a focused spot beam, he walked along the alley. Something caught his eye. A high-heeled shoe.
That was definitely Jess’s.
He felt elated: they’d escaped this way.

He sprinted to the end of the alley, emerging out onto another road. There were no houses in this road, just the pavement he was standing on, and a field opposite. He looked all around. No sign of anyone. With no clue as to where the women had gone, he had no option but to retrace his steps along the alley. He climbed back over the fence and ran back into the house.

Other books

The Dragon Knight Order by Vicioso, Gabriel
Love Overrated by Latasia Nadia
Capital by John Lanchester
The Dawn of Fury by Compton, Ralph
The Rainmaker by John Grisham
The Shape of Water by Andrea Camilleri
Small-Town Mom by Jean C. Gordon