Authors: Lee Christine
‘I think, when I was little, my Grandfather showed me a photograph of the winery where he grew up. I would have been about five at the time. Occasionally, wine from that vineyard would be delivered to our house. That’s where I know the name. Not from work. From the wine label.’
Nate’s chest grew tight. His gut instinct told him she was telling the truth, but Dickson was staring at him, expecting him to go harder at her.
Nate’s brain snapped into gear. ‘Providence, a company implicated in the money laundering racket, shares a name with a winery owned by your family. Are they connected?’
Come on, princess, fight me. Prove to Dickson you know nothing about this
.
‘How would I know that?’ she snapped out the words. ‘Jesus, Nate, I’ve only just remembered myself.’
That’s the way, baby
.
‘Really?’ he drawled the word.
‘It doesn’t mean it’s the same fucking providence,’ she said heatedly, temper rising to the surface. ‘It’s probably just a coincidence.’
Good girl
.
She was stirred up now, and for once he was thankful for her potty mouth.
‘I don’t believe in coincidences.’
Christ
, this was killing him, and he didn’t know what was worse — thinking something had been going on between her and Dickson, when it hadn’t, or the deception he was now partaking in.
He watched her face drain of colour. ‘I’m telling you the truth.’
Nake raked a hand through his hair, wondering how on earth he was ever going to pull this off. ‘I think it’s the same providence.’
She didn’t say anything, just stared at him as if she didn’t know him anymore.
‘I think it’s connected to your family.’
She shook her head, blonde curls dancing around her face as she spat the words at him. ‘You’re crazy, Nate, you know that? Certifiably. Fucking. Crazy.’
‘Think about it, Josie. Mulvaney tracked you down on Skype.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know. He needed to speak to Allegra.’
‘That’s what we
all
assumed.’ Nate lowered his voice, knew his quieter tone would double the impact. ‘What if he were looking for someone else?’
‘Who?’ He saw the panic in her eyes, didn’t miss the distress in her voice. ‘Henry Grace? I wouldn’t know how to contact him out of business hours.’
His poor, sweet, little princess. He’d prefer Kennett, Bull and Grassy beat the shit out of him than devastate her like this. ‘What about your father?’
‘My father?’
She clutched the back of a chair, eyes so wounded he doubted he’d ever be able to repair the damage. ‘What’s my father got to do with any of this?’
Nate shut his emotions down. He had no choice. It was the only way he could do it.
‘Luke said something as I was leaving this afternoon, something that had been bothering him and Allegra. When they switched on their phones that night, each had a missed call from you.’
She was still reeling from what he’d just said, couldn’t know where he was heading with this.
Beside him, Dickson shifted uneasily, rubbed a hand over his shaved head and spoke for the first time. ‘What are you getting at, Nate?’
Nate let the question hang in the air. He wanted to give Josie time to compose herself. It was the only thing he could do for her at the moment.
‘Mulvaney had always been in possession of Allegra’s mobile number,’ he said eventually. ‘So why didn’t he leave a voice message? If I were desperate, I would. But there was nothing, not even one missed call from him that night.’
Seconds ticked by, the only sound in the room the whir of the fan from inside the laptop.
In the end, it was Dickson who spoke first.
‘Anything could have happened. He probably just lost her number.’ He jabbed at the magazine. ‘I believe what Josie’s saying. She was looking through this before she went to the computer. I saw the shock on her face, knew straight away she’d discovered something. She was so engrossed, she didn’t even see me get up.’
Some of the hurt left Josie’s eyes. ‘Thanks, Dickson. I appreciate the support.’
Nate began breathing again.
He’d done it
.
If Silvano Valenti turned out to be corrupt, at least Dickson was satisfied Josie had not been aware of it up until this point. And he couldn’t accuse Nate of going easy on her.
But he’d paid the price with his heart. He’d jeopardised their relationship, sacrificed possibly the best thing he’d ever had, to keep her above suspicion.
And understandably, she was too distraught to realise.
He’d fallen in love with her, made love to her, broken all the rules and it had been so good he hadn’t cared.
And he trusted her in a way he couldn’t bring himself to trust Dickson.
Nate’s mind raced. He needed to get onto Luke again, see if the wunderkind could find the connections.
Sick in the guts at what he’d just done, he looked over at Josie. She was standing by the window, staring into Hyde Park, refusing to even look at him.
He couldn’t blame her.
It was a bitch of a twenty-first birthday present.
6:00 p.m. Thursday
When Luke Neilson stepped into the room Josie almost burst into tears. She knew Luke well — well enough to know from the expression on his face he wasn’t bearing good news. Nevertheless, he strode across the room and folded her into a type of bear hug, the kind she imagined a big brother would give a little sister. She clung to him, woollen fabric of his suit coat a rough texture against her cheek. He held her, his hand patting her back.
‘Hello, Josie. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through this week.’
Josie closed her eyes. Yes, he could. More than anyone, Luke Neilson knew about surviving horror weeks. A veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan, he’d experienced atrocities beyond most people’s comprehension.
And his words were a comfort.
She felt better for having him here.
He straightened, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Allegra’s been beside herself.’
Josie nodded, avoiding Nate’s brooding eyes. ‘Tell her I’m sorry, and that I’m okay — kind of.’
Luke gave her a sympathetic smile and lowered his hands. ‘Don’t worry. Nate will get this all sorted out one way or another.’
Luke’s faith in Nate fortified Josie, and she glanced at him again. The last few hours had been unbearable. Nate had alternated between pacing the room and working on the computer, while Dickson, caught in the middle, had kept his head down and stayed out of their way.
Conversation was non-existent, though every so often she’d look up to find Nate watching her. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she could have sworn he was trying to tell her something with his eyes.
Numb, and unable to interpret his message, she’d returned to watching the park and trying to piece together what little she knew of her family history. Her mother was of Irish descent, and they’d been to Ireland a couple of times to visit her grandparents over the years. But her paternal grandfather had died when she was six, and apart from that one time she remembered being with him, there was nothing at all in her memory bank.
Her thoughts returned to the present as she heard Nate introducing Luke to Dickson.
Then suddenly, there was no more to be said.
It was time.
Luke passed Nate an A4 white envelope. ‘The details are there, but to give you an overall picture of the Grace and Poole side of things, Henry Grace is siphoning huge amounts of cash into the firm’s lending company, writing bogus receipts using made up names. The money is deposited into the account, then loaned to various clients. Nothing unusual about that. Law firms do it all the time. It’s just another type of lending. The difference here, is that the sheer volume of cash has enabled them to become a substantial lender of vast funds. The money is paid back monthly with interest, so there’s cash constantly being withdrawn and deposited. It’s effective. Grace can clean the money pretty quickly through that account.’
Nate’s brows drew together in a frown. ‘What about Simon Poole?’
Luke shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to indicate he’s involved with the day to day administration of the lending company. That’s primarily due to the areas of law the partners practise in. Grace is corporate and investment, Poole litigation. It’s always operated along those lines by the looks of it.’
The room turned silent as each person digested the information.
Then Dickson shook his head, looked up from where he’d been staring at the carpet. ‘Why on earth would a man in Henry Grace’s position risk his career like that?’
‘I looked into Henry Grace’s family this afternoon,’ Nate said. ‘There’s a son prone to multiple dependency problems. Drugs, alcohol and gambling. Goes back ten years or more. He’s been cautioned a number of times, and at some point received a good behaviour bond. It’s a miracle he’s stayed out of prison.’
‘Daddy’s paying someone off?’ offered Dickson.
Josie stood with the men, worry eating at the lining of her stomach. It was bad enough these things were taking place in the firm where she and Allegra worked, but it was nothing compared to the immobilising fear threatening to overwhelm her as she waited for them to get onto the subject of “providence”.
But Nate hadn’t finished.
‘I also discovered Ong Chung’s an illegal immigrant. I suspected as much. He’s laundering money to keep someone quiet.’
There was a poignant silence, as if they all knew what was coming next, and no-one was willing to broach the subject.
Panic welled up inside Josie, her gaze meshing with Nate’s for a nanosecond before they all looked at Luke.
‘Is it okay to reveal this with everyone present?’ Luke asked.
There was no doubt Allegra’s husband was a class act, and for the first time Josie realised how similar the two men were. Both tall and handsome, Nate a half dozen years younger, as dark as Luke was fair. But what was obvious, was the mutual respect with which they treated each other.
‘It’s okay,’ Nate replied, his eyes resting on her face, ‘provided the information stays privy to the people in this room, until I say otherwise.’
A muscle tensed in his cheek as he looked from Luke to Dickson and back again. Both men nodded, and then Luke began to speak.
‘Tom managed to access the records of the Australian Securities and Investment Commission, the Australian Taxation Office, various banking institutions in Australia and off-shore, and one of the major accounting firms here in Sydney. The money trail was so well disguised, only someone of Tom’s capability would be able to navigate through the triple encryption and so on. He spoofed emails to gather information. The replies he received are printed off and in that envelope.’
Dickson looked at Nate. ‘Can we use those as admissible evidence if he obtained the information illegally?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Nate replied. ‘It’s sub-contracted work while undercover. Neilson’s is a registered security firm, and he has a good relationship with the police.’
Josie was beginning to sweat, the sickness in her stomach growing worse by the second so she wanted to run from the room. Then, just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, Luke turned towards her.
‘I hate to break this distressing news to you, Josie, but it appears your father is involved in the same criminal operations as Henry Grace.’
Josie’s mind screamed, a flash of heat engulfing her body.
She stared at Luke, could see his lips moving, but the aboriginal artwork hanging behind him disappeared in a wall of spots. She stepped towards the bed, room tilting at a one-eighty degree angle.
She staggered, darkness encroaching, vision retreating.
Nate lunged at her, said her name, voice drowned out by the growing pressure in her skull.
Then suddenly she was standing in the ocean, wet sand sliding between her toes, hands trailing in the water as the sea raced around her. The sand fell away, and she lost her footing, dragged under by a vortex of water. She struggled, gasped, kicked her legs and tried to break the surface, reached for the pinprick of light way above her.
And then a giant wave swelled beneath her body, a moving mountain of water lifting her up into the sunlight and propelling her forward. She looked at the shoreline, teetered on the very crest of the wave for what seemed an eternity.
Finally, the wave unleashed its force, breaking with a powerful energy, gathering her up and tumbling her body over and over in the white wash.
The wave raced towards the shoreline, where it dumped her onto the hard, wet sand.
Hurtling her into oblivion.
‘Josie. Come on, princess, wake up.’
Nate’s voice. Kind, gentle, regretful.
That couldn’t be right. He’d been angry and accusing.
Why?
She couldn’t remember. She’d been tempted to tell him to leave her the fuck alone, but he didn’t like her swearing, and she was ashamed, so ashamed.
Behind closed lids, Josie continued to spin in the darkness, nauseous, like the time she’d gone on that roller coaster in the dark, like the time she’d drank…
That’s it!
She remembered now.
Nate was furious because she’d drunk too many Bacardi Breezers. He’d gone on and on, lecturing her on the dangers of binge drinking.
‘Princess —
please
?’
So why was he speaking to her now like he loved her?
She moved her head in the direction of his voice, felt the brush of a soft pillow on her cheek, a firm mattress supporting her body. But something evil prowled on the edge of her consciousness, patient, like a stalking animal.
Something she didn’t want to face.
Then all at once, everything came rushing back — the revelation and the hurt. The pain and the shame.
Josie forced her eyes open, groaning as three sets of male eyes turned to study her face. Nate was sitting on the side of the bed, Dickson standing at the foot. And over by the door, Luke was ringing for a doctor and saying something about getting Allegra.
She grasped whatever the wet thing was on her forehead and flung it away, ignoring the worry etched on Nate’s face.
‘Let me up.’ She struggled up on her elbows, but the room lurched sickeningly, and Nate’s big body wasn’t going anywhere. In the end, she had to lie back against the pillows.