Alex Palmer - The Labyrinth of Drowning

‘We’ve had an incident. The pick-up is aborted. We may have two deaths as well.’

Clive was on the end of the line. ‘I’ll have an ambulance and police on the way ASAP. Expect me also.’

Narelle had got out of the car and was running along the road. Grace ran her down and dragged her back.

‘Let go of me,’ Narelle shouted, struggling.

Grace pushed her hard against the car. ‘Keep quiet. You will sit in this car and you won’t move.’

Narelle was quiet for a few moments, then made to run again. Grace was holding the girl’s wrists in a tight grip when a member of her backup arrived, carrying a pair of handcuffs.

‘Just sit still,’ he said, and cuffed Narelle to the steering wheel. Grace took the car keys.

‘Don’t do this to me,’ Narelle shouted. ‘What have I done?’

‘Sit in the car and be quiet,’ Grace snapped. ‘If it wasn’t for us, you’d be ending up dead. So count your lucky stars.’

‘What are you talking about? Elliot wouldn’t hurt me!’

Grace didn’t bother to answer. The car she had almost collided with head on had come back and pulled to a stop on the shoulder just near the bike. Its driver, a man, was hurrying towards the rider and the pillion passenger where they lay sprawled on the road. Behind them, another car had come to a halt and a small line was beginning to form. One car started pulling out to drive around the smashed bike; a concerned driver got out of another.

‘I’ll deal with the traffic,’ one of the backup team said, and went to move the cars on. The other backup was standing over the rider and pillion, pointing a gun at them. The pillion rider’s gun lay where it had finished up on the dirt. Grace reached the injured men at the same time as the driver from the first car.

‘Stop there,’ the Orion operative ordered him.

The driver stopped, white-faced, staring at the operative’s gun. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘We’re with the police. Who are you?’

‘I’m a nurse,’ the man said.

‘Let him look at them,’ Grace said.

The operative stepped back, gun still at the ready. The nurse was calm, if pale.

‘I think your pillion rider’s probably dead,’ he said.

‘Can you help the other one?’ Grace asked.

‘Can I take his helmet off?’

‘Do it.’

The nurse removed the helmet and used his own coat as a cushion for the rider’s head. He was moving in and out of consciousness. Grace recognised Joe Ponticelli from Harrigan’s launch.

‘Probably internal bleeding,’ the nurse said. ‘Probably quite severe. We need an ambulance.’

‘It’s on its way.’

The nurse checked the other man, also taking off his helmet. This man was unknown to her.

‘Very dead. Probably almost instantly. His neck’s broken.’

Despite her years of training and experience, Grace swayed on her feet, feeling cold and sick. Briefly she closed her eyes.

‘Are you all right?’ the nurse asked.

She nodded. Glancing sideways, she saw the other operative looking at her speculatively.

‘I saw it happening when you almost ran into me,’ the nurse said. ‘I don’t think it was your fault. They ran into you.’

You can expect it in a business like this where the people who make the rules are murderers. She had heard this from a speaker during her induction course all those years ago. It had never been more real. She nodded her thanks to the nurse but couldn’t speak.

First on the scene was Clive, with the police and ambulance following. The injured man was taken away first; the dead man waited his turn under a cover on the road.

‘Where’s Narelle Wong?’ Clive asked.

‘We had to handcuff her to the car. She kept trying to make a run for it.’

‘Let’s have a look at her.’

They walked over to where Narelle was sitting in the passenger seat.

‘This hurts!’ she said. ‘It’s cutting off my circulation!’

‘You were on your way to meet someone,’ Clive said. ‘Do you want to tell me who that person is?’

‘None of your business.’

‘I think you’ll find it is. Is it this man?’ Clive showed her a surveillance photograph of Joel Griffin.

‘I don’t know. Take this thing off me!’

‘You are aware you’re implicated in Jirawan Sanders’s murder? Certainly as an accessory before the fact.’

‘I didn’t know anything about that. I still don’t.’

‘We have testimony that she worked under duress at Life’s Pleasures and was under your control. That’s deprivation of liberty. Did you know that? You were also involved in the intended sale of her passport. These are serious offences.’

Narelle was dissolving into tears. ‘What would I know about any of that? My arm hurts!’

‘Get it unlocked,’ Grace said to the operative with the key, who was standing beside her.

‘Would you come with us, Miss Wong?’ Clive said. ‘This gentleman here will show you to a car. We’d like to speak to you.’

‘You haven’t told me who you are. Are you the police?’

Clive reached for a small wallet, which he flicked open for her. She stared at it uncomprehendingly.

‘This is my identification. I’m advising you that under our legislation we can hold you incommunicado without charge for fourteen days and I intend to do so. This man will look after you. Go with him, please.’

‘This is her ID,’ Grace said, handing the operative Narelle’s leather bag.

‘No, I’ll take that,’ Clive said.

Narelle turned to Grace. ‘You lied to me.’

‘Just this way, Miss Wong, with this gentleman here,’ Clive said. ‘We’ll get you in the car.’

‘I hope he kills you for it,’ Narelle lashed back at Grace one last time.

A tow truck arrived and removed Grace’s car. The smashed bike was also being readied to be removed. The traffic on the highway was crawling just enough. Someone handed her a cup of coffee. Clive, who had been overseeing the cleanup, came over.

‘You kept the media away,’ Grace said.

‘I want this under wraps. You handled it well. You kept your head under very difficult circumstances.’

One person dead, one person critical. Murderers both. Whatever they were, she wasn’t a killer. She hadn’t wanted to be responsible for anyone’s death.

‘I’ve missed my rendezvous,’ she said. ‘Do we know what’s happening down at Brooklyn?’

‘Sara McLeod is still down there. She’s moored a small yacht at the public jetty. I want you to stay in role. I have a surveillance team down there now and I’m organising a boat as well. They’ll be there as soon as they can. I’ve got you another car. I want you to go down there and tell her Narelle is dead.’

‘Then how come I’m alive?’

‘They were aiming for you and got her. You ran them off the road, killed one of them and left the other there. Then you took a side road into the bush and dumped Narelle’s body. As well as Jirawan Sanders’s passport, you have Narelle’s ID and you want to be paid for it the same as if you had delivered her in person.’

‘For them to believe that, the car has to be shot up in some way.’

‘No, you abandoned it. The one you’re driving is stolen.’

‘What am I trying to achieve?’ she asked.

Clive didn’t blink. ‘Griffin has given us the slip. We don’t know where he is. He’s definitely not down at the marina. I want to see if Sara McLeod will take you to him.’

‘How did that happen?’

‘He went back to his apartment building at Bondi Junction last night after he left your partner’s book launch. He never arrived at his unit in that building. Sometime since then he left without us seeing him. We think he must have a second unit in the building under another name and also had another car ready to go. He was probably driven out by someone else.’