Authors: Lee Christine
Josie stared at each of the three men in turn. Two days ago she would have welcomed this, but now her thoughts whirled at the thought of leaving their hideaway. She felt safe now Nate was back. And it was her birthday tomorrow. She’d been looking forward to spending at least part of it with him.
But of course the operation had to come first, and the thought of playing an active role was an exciting prospect. It would be terrifying, venturing into the city with the police searching for her and a half million dollar bounty on her head. But for Nate, she’d walk alone into the Altar Boys compound if it meant avoiding a repeat of last night’s agonising wait.
She wanted him out, away from the Altar Boys.
Away from the drugs and lap dancers.
She wanted him with her.
Josie brought her gaze back to his, and in that instant knew she’d go anywhere to be close to him. ‘I’ll do it.’
Nate’s hand tightened around her arm, and to her surprise he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. ‘That’s my girl.’
Josie’s heart raced, and she didn’t miss Dickson’s smile of gratitude, or the way Dario Byrne’s eyes narrowed as he looked from her to Nate.
If Nate noticed, he didn’t care, just led her over to the table where she and Dickson had been working yesterday. He picked up her notepad where she’d scribbled down the names of the companies she’d searched.
‘Can we clarify what you found yesterday? Run me through it. I want to see how it matches up with what I know.’
‘Sure.’ She moved closer and pointed to the messy diagrams she’d drawn. ‘The gym operates under a registered business name, Fit Forever, and the associated proprietary company is Mid City Holdings Pty. Limited. Mid City has two shareholders. Scott Tower, the gym operator holds one share and is also the Director. He has a registered Australian Business Number. The second shareholder, is Transfreight Pty. Limited. I’m assuming Transfreight is the party
not
involved in the daily operations.’
‘It’s the same structure as the drycleaners,’ mused Nate. ‘Registered business name, Uptown Drycleaning, associated company, Clean Holdings Pty. Limited.’
‘Clean?’ scoffed Dickson. ‘Clean clothes, dirty money.’
It was the first time he’d spoken since Josie had come into the room, and she noticed how pale he looked, the bump on his head visible due to his lack of hair.
Nate continued on. ‘The Director is operator Ong Chung, who holds one share, the other is owned by Clean Holdings.’
Josie pointed to the list she’d made. ‘I’ve used the companies as a starting point, but it’s getting difficult to follow the trail. Many are interconnected. Some companies have been deregistered along the way, while others have stopped trading. To make things more difficult, new ones have been set up.’
‘You’ve done well.’ Nate put down the pad. ‘We’ll get you set up in the hotel this afternoon, see if we can make more headway. I’m still of the opinion our best chance of cracking the case is through some good old-fashioned detective work.’
‘It always is,’ Dario Byrne agreed.
For a few moments no-one said anything, and then Dario turned and spoke to her. ‘If a decision is made to arrest the suspect at the scene, are you able to make your way safely back to the hotel?’
Careful to look the man straight in the eye, Josie nodded. ‘I know the city well.’
‘Good.’
Nate handed her a large plastic shopping bag. ‘The best disguise is bland clothing that allows you to blend into the crowd. You dress quite trendily, so Dario’s chosen clothes you normally wouldn’t wear. There’s a wig to cover your hair.’
Josie took the bag, conscious of the sense of urgency in the room. Now that he had her co-operation, Nate was moving quickly, eager to get into the city.
‘You need to eat something and pack,’ he said. ‘How long do you need?’
She only had the few things she’d purchased at Coles that first morning. ‘Half an hour, max.’
Nate checked his watch. ‘Make it an hour. You might need help with the wig.’
Then he looked at each of the men in turn. ‘If we leave then, we’ll be in the city by one.’
1:15 p.m. Wednesday
Two blocks away from the “Sheraton on the Park” hotel, Josie sat in Dickson’s car, invisible behind the heavily tinted windows. Perspiring in the auburn wig and unfamiliar clothes, she watched the street from behind black sunglasses. On the footpath, office workers dodged each other in their quest for a hasty sandwich, or to run a lunchtime errand.
No-one even looked at the regular black sedan.
Josie searched for a familiar face in the crowd. They were only a few blocks from Grace and Poole, and many of her co-workers would be on lunch break. How strange it would be to sit behind the darkened windows and see someone she knew. Someone who probably believed she’d met a grisly end.
Her thoughts shifted to her parents, stomach churning with guilt. She imagined them at home, fearing the worst, while here she sat, three blocks from where she normally was at this time of day. If they knew, they would think it cruel and unnecessary. But Nate’s life was at risk, and she had no intention of going public until they could get out of this mess together.
She recalled his words from the first night.
‘People are stronger than you think
.
They’ll cope.’
She believed him. And somewhere deep inside, she hoped that maybe, just maybe, this experience would bring her family closer, though it was a hell of a way to do it. For most of her life, her family had lived under the same roof, her mother vague and disinterested and run off her feet with her charity obligations, her father usually out of the country. Three people rooming together more aptly described them. With parents almost indifferent to her presence, she began seeking out other people. At boarding school, she accepted invitations to spend holidays with friends, usually at their country property. During those visits, exposed to the warmth of a tight, cohesive family, she’d learned another way.
Josie shifted in the passenger seat. Those holidays had given her hope, and a determination that one day she would have her own family.
And she’d do better.
Midday sun filtered through the windscreen, and she yawned, thoughts returning to the present. She watched the crowd again, waiting while Dickson checked into the hotel, and Nate took the WRX back to Surry Hills. Sending up a silent prayer he’d find the Harley where he’d left it, she stared at a young couple sharing a joke over an alfresco lunch. Even if Nate solved the case, would they ever be carefree in Sydney again?
Right then, Dickson rounded the corner, looking more like a trendy shop assistant than a detective. He wore skinny jeans, Converses, a vest and a small fedora which covered the bump on his head. Within seconds, he was inside the car and locking the door.
‘Any problems, Mrs. Radford?’
Josie glared at him. From the multiple identities he carried in his briefcase, they were now Mr. & Mrs. Radford, much to his amusement.
‘The car park’s half a block this way.’ He started the engine and pulled his seatbelt across his chest. ‘The room’s ready.’
Five minutes later, he parked the car, leaving a substantial gap between their vehicle and the wall. The idea was for Nate to squeeze the Harley in when he arrived. The less visible the bike was to passersby, the better.
While Dickson retrieved their bags from the boot, Josie exited the car and straightened the skirt of the well-cut grey suit Dario Byrne had bought for her. The corporate attire was more Allegra’s style, but they were trying to make her look older. And it went well with the blunt cut auburn wig.
She stumbled on her way to the elevator, swearing under her breath so Dickson wouldn’t hear.
‘Take your time.’ He pressed the button and looked back at her. ‘And stop glaring at me.’
‘Only a man would choose such user unfriendly footwear. Give me my standard Docs any day.’
When the elevator doors hissed open they stepped inside. Dickson swiped the card, and they ascended in silence to the fourteenth floor. In the hallway, they nodded to a lady in a white uniform pushing a cleaning trolley, footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. And then they were stepping inside the room and Dickson was fixing the “Do Not Disturb” sign to the door, sliding the safety chain onto its catch.
Josie heaved a sigh of relief and looked around the sumptuous room, complete with two queen sized beds and a view over Hyde Park. Aboriginal artwork was a vivid splash of colour on the cream walls, tiny dots of lime green and sunburst orange, a theme reflected in the lavish bedspreads and scatter cushions.
While Dickson used the bathroom, she kicked off the user hostile shoes and padded across to the window in her stockinged feet. Strange how everything in the world seemed normal, and yet she was removed, hidden away in a modern day Rapunzel’s tower, complete with false wig.
Josie checked her watch. One thirty. Hopefully Nate wouldn’t be too much longer. With luck, his check in would go as smoothly as theirs.
A wave of compassion only served to strengthen her resolve. Apart from Dickson, Nate was alone in this, unwilling to involve more police for fear of tipping off corrupt members of the force. So it was up to the three of them to get the job done. And they needed to push ahead, needed to capitalise on his new position within the Altar Boys to achieve a breakthrough.
‘You hungry?’
Josie turned, Dickson’s words breaking into her reverie. She nodded. ‘Starving.’
‘We’ll order room service before setting up the computer. I don’t like the thought of a staff member coming in here, but I’m not going out for takeaway, not after last night.’
Feeling a little sorry for Dickson, Josie touched the side of the wig, wishing she could pull out the clips and bobby pins which secured it to the cap underneath. ‘I guess I’ll have to stay in this.’
Dickson’s eyes swept over her as he handed her the room service menu. ‘For now.’
Josie perched on the end of the bed and studied the menu, grateful for something to do. It was unnerving being in a room with Dickson when the two central pieces of furniture were two queen sized beds, and for the umpteenth time that day, she wondered if he’d actually heard anything last night.
Deciding on a toasted prawn wrap for herself and a plate of sandwiches for Nate, she gave him her order and decided to make tea.
Dickson was speaking on the landline, and she was filling the jug with water, when a loud rap came at the door.
Nate stepped into the room, dropped his bag and read the situation immediately.
Dickson was on edge, eyes scanning the hallway as he locked the door behind them. Then he stood off to one side, hands shoved in his pockets as if he didn’t know what was expected of him next.
And then there was Josie, holding a kettle, an expression of such pure relief on her face he had to stop himself striding across the room and dragging her into his arms. He made do with a quick embrace and a kiss on her forehead.
‘Any problems?’ He spoke to both of them, though he kept his arm around Josie, staking a claim, sending a message to Dickson, though he doubted the man needed him to draw a picture.
‘Everything went smoothly,’ Dickson said. ‘Lunch is coming, that’s why Josie hasn’t changed. What about you?’
‘The bike was fine, so I came straight here. Thanks for leaving that space.’ Nate slid the room key from his wallet and handed it to Dickson. ‘904.’
Dickson dug in his pocket and they swapped keys, and Nate didn’t miss the silent thank you in Josie’s green eyes, or the way her shoulders relaxed when she realised she wouldn’t be sharing a room with his offsider.
Nate slid the key into his wallet. Surely his princess didn’t think he’d make her sleep in the same room as Dickson the night before her birthday — or on any night for that matter. Sure, the operation was critical, but his number one priority was taking care of his woman.
The revelation hit Nate with the force of a head on collision, and he turned away as he stowed his wallet with unsteady hands. It seemed longer than three days since he and Kennett had broken into the tat parlour. Could it happen so quickly? He had no idea.
Shit! He was thinking like a teenager. It had to be the proximity and the danger. Or maybe a convenience — as it had been in the States.
Convenience?
Nate turned and looked at Josie, his heart a burning sun in his chest. Green eyes glowed under the blunt cut red wig, and in the fitted grey suit, he could have been looking at her in ten years time.
It didn’t matter what she wore, this girl was special.
And she looked nothing like a convenience.
Show’s over, Hunter. You’re a dead set goner
.
Pushing everything from his mind, Nate picked up Dickson’s bag and held it out to him, forcing himself to focus on what needed to be done. He was a senior detective. People’s lives hinged on the decisions he made. He couldn’t allow his feelings for Josie to mar his thought processes.
‘Take that to the other room, and get back here ASAP. Josie, you and I will go into the bathroom while Dickson signs for the lunch. The less people see of us the better. This afternoon, we’ll set up the computers and configure our communications for the morning.’
He watched Dickson move towards the door. ‘In less than twenty-four hours we should have a photograph of the person collecting the money, maybe even an identity. Whether we arrest them immediately, will depend on how I read the situation.’
He turned to Josie. ‘Sometimes the “softly softly” approach works best. Massive publicity will only tip off the person we’re ultimately after.’
At five o’clock, Josie leaned back in the chair and stretched her arms above her head. Her back ached from being hunched over Dickson’s computer, and it seemed a long time since lunch. She glanced at the wig hanging on the bathroom doorknob and rubbed her tender scalp. At least that was off, and she was in her comfortable track suit again.
It had taken a couple of hours to get kitted out for tomorrow. Dickson’s expandable briefcase had revealed an amazing assortment of covert bodywear innovation, everything from wireless earpieces and tiny transmitters, to cameras hidden inside MP3 players and state of the art smart phones.