The Tower (36 page)

Troy rocked the stroller. When this didn't work he picked up Matt and cuddled him until he stopped crying.

The police minister had denied all knowledge of Stone's activities and said he would be looking into the claims today. An official from the Police Association was quoted as saying, ‘The idea that a homicide investigation might be hampered by the federal government's political agenda is deeply disturbing. We'll be seeking more information and considering our response.'

Hear, hear, thought Troy, bending down to kiss Matt gently on the forehead.

Henry Wu, of Morning Star Australia, said he had no knowledge of a covert police operation at The Tower. He pointed out that the state government, a supporter of the union movement, would be unlikely to condone such an action.

Troy put Matt back in the stroller and stood up, wondering who had leaked the story. Kelly might think it was him, but he didn't care. All he felt was relief in having the thing out in the open.

Later that morning, driving to Parramatta, Troy turned on the radio. It was ABC local, and the presenter was asking her guest the secret of his success. Troy didn't recognise the man's voice, so he didn't know what he was successful at. The guest paused for thought and then said, ‘Empathy. I guess I was just fortunate enough to learn how to empathise with my fellow human beings.'

Troy changed stations. On the next one a man was describing the great sex he'd had during an affair with a famous actor's wife. Troy switched again, found a station where the host was abusing a politician, and left it on. The radio was a reminder of what awaited him when he was not involved in an investigation.

When he reached work, McIver was there already, talking on the phone. His face was a little pale against the dark blue shirt he was wearing, adorned with a black tie beneath the sling, but otherwise he looked well, much better than the previous day. His expression was animated as he listened to what the person on the other end of the line was saying.

Troy looked around the office, spotting copies of the
Telegraph
on some desks, catching a few of his colleagues glancing at him. One of them smiled, but stopped when he saw Kelly standing in the doorway.

‘Nicholas, my office, please,' she said. ‘You too, Jon.'

She turned and disappeared down the corridor.

McIver got off the phone and stood up. Troy saw he was wearing black trousers with pointed boots.

‘You,' he said, ‘should not be back at work.'

‘Can't keep an old warrior down, mate,' McIver whispered as they followed Kelly. ‘It's all about keeping your immune system happy, did you know that?'

Troy had no idea what he was talking about. He was glad that in this, at least, things were returning to normal.

Kelly's office was several times the size of the one where they had had their conversation the previous day. It was largely bare, as though the space was unnecessary except to proclaim her status. Even the desk was clear, unlike almost all the others in the squad. On a shelf behind the superintendent sat a pile of newspapers and a photograph of herself with a man in evening clothes, taken at some event. Presumably this was her husband. Troy wondered why it was positioned where Kelly herself couldn't see it.

‘Shut the door and take a seat,' she said.

‘Any news on the Korean girl?' McIver asked cheerily.

Kelly blinked as though uncertain at first what he was talking about. Then she pointed at the two chairs on the other side of her desk. When the two detectives were seated she paused, staring at Troy, in silence. He stared back, trying to see if he could detect any sign of her ruthlessness in her eyes. Of course he couldn't. If hard people carried a sign of their true nature in their faces, others would avoid them. It was one of the disappointments of life, the fact that destructive people were so often charming and intelligent.

At last she spoke. ‘Did you talk to the
Telegraph
?'

‘No, ma'am.'

More staring.

‘Whoever did, a brave officer's life has been put at risk.'

Not to mention several careers, Troy thought, realising the implications the revelation might have for Kelly herself. The government wouldn't be happy. Or the commissioner—it was possible he hadn't known about the covert operation either.

McIver crossed his legs. ‘If it's any help, ma'am,' he said, ‘Senior Constable Troy doesn't have a reputation as a leaker—unlike one or two of our colleagues, who shall remain nameless. In my experience he's a self-contained man who deals with problems in a professional manner.'

Troy's ears burned a little. McIver's manner was so casual you could forget he was an operator too.

Kelly nodded as though she wanted to believe him. Maybe she did. ‘There's been a change of plan,' she said, looking at both of them. ‘Stone's been moved on, for his own protection. Mac will replace him; he assures me he's well enough for light duties. Normally I wouldn't have either of you back at work, but with this murder at Pyrmont . . .' She looked at her watch. ‘Frankly, we're desperate. And you,' looking at Troy, ‘are back on the investigation.' She stopped.

Troy felt a surge of relief, but he said nothing, expecting more from her. She owed it to them to explain this change of mind—to explain the claims made in the newspaper article. But in the end, the effort seemed too much for her.

‘You can go,' she said angrily.

It was not like her, he thought. Not like her to leave anything out. She might be manipulative, but she was good at it and didn't like to cause unnecessary distress.

‘Can we keep China,' McIver said, ‘to make up for this?' He wiggled his left arm.

Kelly frowned, seemed about to say something nasty, then nodded impatiently. ‘We need a result here. Stone did well. But we need a result.'

As they left the room, Troy thought she looked unhappy.

Back at his desk, McIver smiled broadly. ‘I don't know what you did to her, mate, but she didn't enjoy it. That
Tele
article gave them both barrels.'

‘Wasn't me. I thought it must have been you.'

‘Not I. Which leaves . . .? Apart from the rest of Strike Force Tailwind, all of Kelly's competitors in the climb up the greasy pole.'

‘Nice about Chu,' Troy said. ‘He's a good operator.'

‘He's also a poof.'

Troy stared at McIver, not catching the significance of the observation, just enjoying the fact they were working together again.

‘And this is a good thing?'

McIver smiled. ‘Couldn't be better. Bazzi's gay too. He's been missing for four days now; we need to dig deeper, get China out into the bathhouses, nightclubs. Whatever.'

Chu lived a quiet life in a Newtown terrace with the man who'd been his partner for five years. McIver knew a lot, but it was possible he did not know this.

On the other hand, it was possible he did.

When he got back to City Central an hour later, Troy called Randall and told him he was back on the investigation. He'd been thinking about who might have leaked to the
Telegraph
.

The engineer sounded happy. ‘Had a word to someone at the paper, did you?'

‘It wasn't me.'

‘You don't need to be shy,' Randall said. ‘I won't tell anyone.'

‘It was you, wasn't it?'

‘Don't be ridiculous.'

‘Well, thanks,' said Troy.

‘If it was me,' Randall said, ‘I'd say you're welcome.'

That night, Anna went out to her book club and Troy looked after Matt. They played for a long time. The boy had been pulling himself up for a while now, so Troy kept holding him up on his legs next to a chair and almost letting go, hoping he would stand by himself for a few seconds. But Matt just dropped down on his bottom and laughed uproariously. It was a good joke.

After the baby had his dinner and flicked some food around the kitchen, Troy gave him a bath and got him ready for bed. They had one last go at standing, and suddenly it happened: Matt was standing by himself, arms slightly out from his sides. He looked puzzled, stared at Troy, and burst into tears. But he stood there, wobbling, for at least five seconds before sitting down.

A few minutes later he was sound asleep. Troy, feeling like an early night himself, sat down to write Anna a note describing their son's great achievement. He felt happy. Kids, they fill up our days, stop us thinking about ourselves, he thought. This is all good.

SATURDAY

Thirty

T
he first video file came on Saturday morning. Troy got up before Anna and Matt, and went for a run along the beach. McIver had given most of the team the weekend off while he read through all the material gathered by the investigation. He shared Troy's view that it had reached a dead end, and wanted to give people the chance to clear their heads before starting again on Monday.

As Troy moved along the sand, he watched the orange sun rise over the line of ocean in the distance. There were a few squat container ships out there this morning, one of them breaking the far line. Some people claimed to be able to detect the curve of the earth's surface along the horizon, a triumph of imagination over eyesight he sometimes thought of when considering witness statements.

When he got home, Anna was awake in Matt's room and he made her a cup of coffee. Then he went to the computer that sat on a small table in a corner of the main bedroom, and logged on to his personal email. In the inbox there was a message with the subject
Detective Troy at Mornington Apartments
.

It took a while for the attachment to download. Then he opened it. The quality was good. It showed Troy standing next to a bed, the woman who'd said her name was Tanya kneeling before him. They were both naked. For a moment he was stunned.

‘Honey,' Anna called from the doorway, ‘can you put on the griller?'

As quickly as he could, he turned off his email program, a finger on the on/off button of the computer, ready to kill it if Anna came into the room. His heart's blood was roaring in his ears and he just sat there staring at the screen while his fingers automatically logged him off. An enemy hath done this. But who? He was so stunned he could hardly think.

He heard the toilet flush, then Anna came into the room behind him and said, ‘Did you hear what I said?'

He didn't look at her, his eyes still on the blank screen. There had been no message accompanying the video file. He wondered how they'd got his email address. But it was not hard, he knew that.

‘I have to go in for a few hours,' he said hoarsely. ‘Something's come up.'

‘Not today—we're going to the Matarazzos'.' She sounded disappointed.

He said, still staring at the screen, ‘It's something important. The computer's broken too, it won't boot up.'

This seemed to worry her more than the news that he had to go in to work. She told him she'd been going to download some information on asthma for Liz, whose daughter also had the condition.

He shrugged. ‘You turn it on and just get the screen, but nothing else happens.' He needed to get the computer out of the house, in case they sent the video to her as well. He stood up. ‘I'd better have my shower.'

Really he ought to disconnect the computer now. But it might look suspicious. What he had to do was act as normally as he could, not do anything unusual or in a hurry. And even if he did do something to the computer, even if he smashed the bloody thing, it would only be a temporary solution. Anna took her email seriously. She would go to a friend's place or an internet cafe.

As the hot water ran over his body he continued to feel stunned. Doing what he'd done at the Mornington had been one thing—he'd assumed that coping with any guilt he felt would be the big problem— but this was something else entirely. He realised what a fool he'd been, just how big a risk he'd taken. This intrusion into his home, the way it had been achieved so easily, the threat it posed to things that mattered to him so much. He assumed there would be a blackmail demand. He knew Anna wouldn't be able to handle it if she found out. Apart from her fragility at the moment, her view of the world was pretty black and white, and this might put him in the black forever. The thought that it could destroy his marriage, that he'd see Matt so rarely if she moved back to Brisbane, made him feel physically weak, and he leaned against the tiled wall of the shower for a moment.

As he dried himself, he wondered how the thing had been done. Tanya had kissed him on the sofa in the lounge room. He'd heard that prostitutes didn't kiss, but it hadn't seemed to be a problem for her. Maybe it was part of the extra service Randall had boasted about. After a bit she'd started to unbutton his shirt and he'd been playing with the knickers she had on, things had progressed quickly and by the time they'd reached the bedroom they had both been naked. Which meant, he realised, that his wallet with his ID would have lain on the floor of the lounge room for the next thirty or forty minutes.

Maybe someone had been there, in another room. They'd come out while he was with Tanya, and gone through his things. Soon they'd ask for money, although as he was a police officer they could hardly expect to get much from him. Probably they'd ask for regular payments of small amounts. He'd have to tell Vella. Kelly would find out. Christ, he thought. But still, they'd sort it out. Anna need never know.

He wondered where Randall fitted in. Presumably Randall wasn't being blackmailed himself, or he wouldn't have given Troy the number, potentially putting him in the same position. Or was the opposite just as likely? Was Randall being blackmailed himself, had he been told to get other men involved? But how could they blackmail Randall? He was a single man, an engineer with no public position. He probably wouldn't care at all if people saw pictures of him having sex. But you never knew. It all depended what sort of photos they had.