Alex Palmer - The Tattooed Man

Outside on the street, under the hard blue sky, the trees shivered in the extreme heat. A hot wind gusted around Harrigan with a low roar. It carried the promise of bushfire, a warning to watch for thick plumes of smoke above the expensive houses built onto these steep, forested hillsides. He had left his car deeply shaded by the laneway’s trees. When he walked towards it, he saw a Harley-Davidson parked in front, blocking his exit. A woman dressed in a white T-shirt and motorbike leathers was sitting on the hog side on, seemingly waiting for him.

‘Paul Harrigan? Commander Harrigan?’ she called out. ‘Do you have a moment? I do have a reason for being here.’

The voice was clear and caught his attention. Harrigan hesitated. The woman stepped lightly to the ground and moved towards him.

‘Why don’t you take this?’ she said with a smile, offering her card. ‘Then you won’t have to wonder who I am.’

Sam Jonas. Personal Security Manager. Life Patent Strategies Inc.

Harrigan studied the card and its owner. She was tall, close to six feet. The set of her shoulders under her T-shirt and her tight, muscular body said she worked out regularly. She was in her mid, possibly late thirties. Her hair was black, braided at the back of her head with a thick fringe over the forehead. A longish face, smoothly and finely carved. Her tanned skin was flawless, her eyes almost green, her mouth dark red without lipstick. In this catalogue of perfection, there was no semblance-at least to him-of sensuality. His immediate instinct towards her was distrust.

‘Sam Jonas. Is that your real name?’

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘It’s just a question. I ask them in my business. What are you doing here? How come you know who I am?’

‘Isn’t Paul Harrigan well known? You often get your picture in the paper. Aren’t you touted as commissioner material? That means something in this town.’

‘But you knew this was my car.’

‘No, I didn’t. They wouldn’t help me at the front gate so I came back here. When I saw the car, I thought it might belong to someone who’s involved in whatever’s going on in there.’

This explanation, faintly plausible, left Harrigan wondering why any knowledge about him should be of interest to someone who, so far as he knew, had no connection to him. He noted her accent: Australian overlaid with an English intonation. Someone who had spent a lot of time in Britain.

‘Why are you so interested?’ he asked.

‘I’m here for my employer. Do you know the name Dr Elena Calvo? She’s the CEO for Life Patent Strategies. Senator Edwards is Elena’s connection to the Australian government. He was supposed to be at a meeting with her today, but he didn’t turn up and he’s not answering his phone.’ Sam glanced at the house with a turn of her strong and graceful neck. ‘His PA said he was up here. Then we heard there’d been a multiple shooting. We only want to know if the senator is okay.’

Sam’s words brought back the blackness of the scene inside the house. The faces of the dead became masks mirrored in Harrigan’s mind, looking out through his own eyes. For a moment, the outside world disappeared.

‘So is he?’ Sam’s voice, harder this time, interrupted his thoughts. ‘Is the senator still on his feet? Did you talk to him?’

‘I’ve talked to him. If your concern is for his welfare, you’re better off leaving him alone.’

‘Is there something on your mind, Commander? Did you see something in there you didn’t like? I’d have thought someone with your background would be used to dealing with the dead. Isn’t it all straightforward enough once you face up to what it means? You must have done that by now.’

Throughout, there had been a hard edge to her voice. She stood with her arms folded, watching him with her sharp green eyes.

‘How would you know? Dr Calvo knows the senator, does she? Why send you up here? Why not come herself if she’s so concerned?’

‘Because that’s my job. That’s what I do for Elena. I check things out.’

‘Do you? Why are you introducing yourself to me like this?’

‘I told you. I’m trying to find out if a good friend of ours is in one piece. You’ve just told me he is. Now I can go back and tell Elena the same thing. She worries. There are people she cares about.’

‘Tell her to wait for the senator to contact her next time. Can you move your bike? I’ve got to get going.’

‘You’re running this investigation, aren’t you? You’ll be the one who decides what does and doesn’t happen,’ she said without shifting.

‘Why do you want to know that?’

‘I want to tell Elena that everything’s under control.’

‘Yes, I’m the one who makes the decisions. You can tell her that if you want to. I’m the only one who makes the decisions. You can tell her that too.’

She stepped closer, looking him directly in the eyes.

‘Everything I read about you, Commander, tells me you’re on the way up,’ she said softly. ‘I can make you an offer worth your while. If you like the good things in life, this is the way to get them. If you want influence where it counts, a positive answer now will get it for you. All you have to do is tell me you’re interested. After that, it’ll be very straightforward.’

‘You can go back to your boss and tell her I don’t do business with anyone.’ He spoke sharply enough for there to be a deeper silence in the air. ‘Say something like that to me again and I’ll charge you. Now leave.’

‘It’s your word against mine, Commander. You’d have to prove I said it first,’ she replied, unfazed. ‘That might be embarrassing to you. But at least I know which way you’d jump.’

She walked away. He looked at her strong, muscular shoulders and arms, the tautness of her body from her waist to her ankles. Her movements were quick and assured.

‘Wait,’ he called.

‘What?’ She turned back sharply.

‘You look strong to me. Are you? You work out, don’t you?’

‘I can look after myself if that’s what you mean. Do you approve or disapprove?’

‘It’s just a question.’

‘I know. You ask them in your business.’ She smiled mockingly. ‘See you.’

Speedily she was helmeted up. She disappeared out of the lane, the sound of the Harley’s engine reverberating over the distance. Harrigan got into his car and sat tapping the steering wheel for a few seconds. Then he reached over and picked up his diary, his book of life, from the seat beside him. This A4-sized book came with him wherever he went, plotting out the details of his allotted time. He took out a glossy brochure he’d placed inside its back cover. It announced that the corporation Life Patent Strategies would be floated on the Australian Stock Exchange in the near future. Selected investors were invited to the black-tie occasion in the function rooms of the Museum of Contemporary Art at Circular Quay. A champagne buffet would be served. It was an opportunity to be a part of the latest developments in biotechnological research, a venture with the full backing of the Australian government.

Harrigan’s invitation had come by means of an old school friend who was now a stockbroker. His eighteen-year-old son was the reason for his interest. Born crippled with cerebral palsy, Toby had a clear mind that was locked in a twisted body. Barely able to speak, he had lived his life in a wheelchair and needed twenty-four-hour care. The biotechnology corporation, its scientific program focusing on the regeneration of the human body, had offered the possibility there might one day be a cure for him. Harrigan had accepted his invitation to the launch even though he knew that any help for his son was most likely decades away.