Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (38 page)

‘Smile, George Fayed,’ she said. ‘You’re on reality TV.’

‘He’d have a control room in there somewhere,’ said Mike and as he spoke, as if by magic the heart of the security system itself was revealed on the screen: a small room with banks of monitors and a heavily geared security man who lounged beneath them, glancing up from time to time to survey the screens, each one showing a section of the huge fortress. After watching the repetitive rotation several times, Gemma started to get an idea of the layout of the house.

‘Looks like the whole ground level is mostly a service area,’ said Mike, ‘car park and air conditioning and a mechanic’s work area. He’s even got his own machine shop.’

Gemma noticed the machining tools, vices, lathes, and benches crowded with tools and spare parts. Room after room, in orderly rotation appeared on the screen. Then it changed to a murky darkness.

‘What’s that?’ Gemma asked.

Mike peered closer at slow-moving coloured shapes, blobs of green, yellow and blue, with occasional red centres.

‘I don’t know,’ said Mike, frowning. ‘Looks like the images you get with ultraviolet light.’

‘Maybe his solarium?’ she ventured.

Mike shook his head, doing what he could to improve the picture on his screen, using his zoom and focus to try and make more sense of the moving shapes, but the images became even more incomprehensible at such close quarters. Another frame change and a huge coloured shape loomed through the murk on the screen, reminding Gemma of a predator swerving through dark water. Then it was gone.

‘What the hell
is
that?’ she asked.

Mike peered more closely at the screen, then shook his head. ‘Buggered if I know,’ he said. ‘They’re heat images, but I don’t know what that is. It’s possible it’s some sort of machinery.’

Now another room came into view, equally dark and mysterious. ‘Might have better luck with this one.’ He focused his attention and skill on the screen.

‘This room is totally dark,’ said Gemma. Almost as she spoke, someone must have switched the light on because the room on Mike’s screen jumped into perfect illumination and focus. A man lay unconscious on a bed. Gemma gasped, then covered her mouth with her hands to stop herself from screaming out loud. It was Steve. For what seemed like minutes, Gemma froze. She hunched, mouth covered, staring at the inert figure on the screen. Then, as suddenly, the image vanished.

‘What’s happened?’ she said, her voice a harsh whispered scream.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ came Mike’s calm voice beside her. ‘It’s just the light being switched off again. Listen. This is a good result. We know for sure now where Steve is.’

‘He’s injured, I know it,’ she said. ‘Why is he unconscious?’

‘He might be sleeping,’ he suggested.

Gemma tried to stand up, knocking her head, the tears already in her eyes springing onto her cheeks. ‘I’ve got to get him out of there,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to get Steve.’

Mike’s hand on her arm steadied her. ‘Take it easy,’ he said. ‘Take a few deep breaths.’

‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘It’s my fault he’s in there. I did something really stupid and now Steve is—’ She stopped. ‘God, Mike. What if he’s dead?’

‘People don’t switch lights on to check a dead man,’ said Mike. ‘And they wouldn’t be keeping a body there. Anywhere else, but not in Fayed’s private home. If Steve were dead, he’d be at the bottom of the Gap, not here.’

It was true, and Gemma knew it.

‘We’ve got to get him out of there,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to get an SPG team together. Raid the place and get him out.’ She was hardly watching the procession of images on Mike’s screen, all she could think of was Steve lying there, unconscious, vulnerable.

‘I’ve got it,’ she said. ‘I’ll call Ian Lovelock. And Angie. Between the two of them, they can organise a big party. We can give them the layout of Fayed’s place now.’ She indicated the rotating pictures on Mike’s screen. ‘We get in there and we get Steve out.’ Her mind was racing. She was aware of her heart beating hard against her ribs.

Mike shook his head. ‘Better we contact Fayed and we deal. He gives us Steve, or—’

‘Or what?’ she asked. ‘We threaten a joint raid. Tear his fortress down and find—’

‘What?’ Mike asked.

‘That dark room we saw. It might be a store room.’

‘No way he’d keep anything at his house, Gemma. That’s for the lieutenants.’

He was right. God knows how they could compel George Fayed to do anything.

‘What are you doing now?’ she asked.

‘I’m copying the video feed,’ he said. ‘This way, we can build up a map of the place.’

Gemma’s mobile rang. It was Angie.

‘Angie,’ she said, ‘we’ve got into George Fayed’s place. Steve’s in there. Mike’s piggybacked in on Fayed’s own closed circuit security system. Tell Ian Lovelock if he doesn’t already know.’

‘Great,’ said her friend. ‘Police intelligence will love that. Make some copies for us. Send them over anonymously. The Drug Squad boys will wet their pants over it.’

‘Tell her I’m sending it electronically asap,’ said Mike. ‘Then she can deliver it to Lovelock.’

‘What about Steve?’ said Gemma, after passing on Mike’s message.

‘That depends on the Drug Squad,’ said Angie. ‘What they decide.’

‘Where’s Ian Lovelock?’

‘Could be anywhere,’ said Angie. ‘I’ll pass on the information right now. Give us a couple of hours to look at the pictures.’

‘We might not have a couple of hours,’ Gemma said, thinking of Steve lying in the dark in the drug lord’s fortress.

‘They’ll have to do a quick target appraisal. I’ll get back to you. Oh,’ she added, ‘I nearly forgot why I rang you. Ric Loader got a perfect match from the assault on Robyn Warburton with the DNA from those attacks from the late ’80s and early ’90s.’

Gemma remembered immediately. ‘I
knew
it,’ she said. ‘The door handle MO. So it was him. Something happened and he got active again.’

‘His missus probably left him,’ Angie suggested.

‘And now he’s on the loose again.’

‘Or he was doing ten years for something similar,’ said Angie. ‘Did Ric get anything off the clothes you were wearing the night you were attacked?’

‘It was a negative,’ Gemma said.

Angie rang off.

‘Okay,’ said Mike. ‘Feel like ringing George Fayed?’

‘You said that number wouldn’t work,’ said Gemma.

‘I’ve picked up the frequency of his new one.’

‘What can I deal with?’ Gemma asked. ‘We haven’t got anything.’

Mike picked up his phone and handed it to her. ‘Use mine. Tell him if he doesn’t let Steve walk out of there his status as a registered informant will be circulated to his friends. There are a couple of men serving life sentences who will be very interested to discover who betrayed them.’

Gemma was stunned. ‘George Fayed?’

Mike nodded. ‘He’s been passing on information about the Chinese to ASIO for a couple of years. Don’t ask me how I know this and you didn’t hear it from me.’

One of the country’s most unsavoury and powerful crims, Gemma thought, has been in bed with the Australian Security and Intelligence Organisation all this time. Slowly, she took Mike’s mobile and keyed the numbers. She didn’t have to wait long. Almost immediately, the phone was answered; a man’s guarded voice.

‘Yes?’

‘George Fayed?’ Gemma asked.

The voice changed. ‘Who is this?’

You’d better hear me real good, she thought, because I’m going to bring you down, George Fayed.

‘My name is Gemma Lincoln,’ she said. ‘You’re holding an acquaintance of mine.’ She paused, listening to the silence humming between them. ‘And I’ve got a deal you might consider,’ she continued. The silence continued until she spoke again. ‘I’m a licensed private investigator and we know you are holding a man inside your house.’ Again, he said nothing. It was unnerving, she realised, to have her voice just sink into nothing like this. ‘Are you there?’ she asked.

‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘What’s this deal you’re talking about?’

‘You give me back Steve Brannigan,’ she said, ‘immediately. He comes out of your place in good health.’ She paused. ‘If that doesn’t happen, not only will your house be raided by the State Protection Group and you will be charged with kidnap and attempted murder’—she paused herself, for effect—‘but also files demonstrating your status as a registered police informant will be copied and sent out to interested parties.’

She heard the shocked intake of breath. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the voice. But he was rattled.

‘I know Steve Brannigan is in your house.’

Let your paranoia feed, George Fayed, she prayed. Are you looking around, wondering which of your lieutenants has betrayed you? Let’s destabilise your empire, she thought. ‘You’ve got a spy in your camp,’ said Gemma.

The long silence continued. Gemma could just hear what sounded like whispered consultations going on, away from the phone line. Cop that, you bastard, Gemma thought. Is it you? Is it you? she imagined Fayed thinking, as he looked around. Her spirits had lifted enormously in the last five minutes. Now she had the power. She had the negotiating upper hand. She could almost feel the drug lord’s mind ticking over, working out his position.

‘Listen, you little bitch. You’ve got nothing to deal with. If I see as much as a probationary constable anywhere near my house, your friend dies of an overdose. I found him lying on the street and had the goodness to pick him up and put him to bed while I found out who he is. I’ve got witnesses who can testify to his growing drug habit.’

Gemma could hear her heartbeat pounding in her head. Shock dried her mouth. She found she couldn’t swallow. This was not how it was supposed to work out.

‘If you do anything to move on me, he’ll be dead—by his own hand.’ Fayed stressed the last few words. ‘So call it off now,’ he said. ‘Or your friend dies like the dog he is.’

The line suddenly cut out.

Gemma stared ahead sightlessly. ‘Oh Jesus,’ she whispered, ‘what have I done?’

‘What happened?’ Mike asked.

The seeming safety of the dim garage suddenly felt like the dark chill of the tomb, the dull glow of the van’s interior light funereal and threatening.

‘What happened?’ Mike repeated. Outside the storm raged while Gemma told him.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘this is a gambit. He can’t win this round. It’s foolproof. If he’s exposed as an informant, he’s finished. He wouldn’t dare kill Steve.’

‘He’s killed other people and never even been charged,’ Gemma said. ‘He could do it. He could get away with it. And he knows it.’

‘But not a cop,’ Mike added. ‘He wouldn’t do this.’

Gemma swung round to him. ‘How can you be so sure? You’re just saying that to make me feel better.’

‘I believe he’ll do what we want,’ Mike said. ‘This is just a gambit while he plans a way out. Steve’s going to be okay. He’s going to have to give him up or be exposed.’

‘How can you say that?’ Gemma said, her hand shaking as she picked up her mobile. ‘He’s got nothing to lose! If he’s to be exposed as an informant, what’s another dead man to him? I have to call the raid off.’

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone started to ring.

‘Hullo?’ she said.

‘It’s the cavalry,’ said Angie. ‘As soon as the briefing is over we’re on our way!’

Gemma panicked. ‘No, no!’ she screamed down the phone. ‘You can’t! You mustn’t. Fayed’s threatened to kill Steve the second there’s any hint of a police raid. Please, tell them to back off!’

‘I’ll tell them,’ said Angie, ‘but you can’t expect them to do it. Eventually they’ll have to go in after Steve. Ian Lovelock received a coded signal from him saying he was in strife and would ring again. When he didn’t, Ian reported it and we’re treating it as a Signal One.’

‘But Fayed will kill him!’

‘Gemster, we’ve got to move! This is kidnapping. This is very serious.’

‘You bet it’s serious!’ Gemma screamed. ‘Tell them what Fayed told me,’ she begged. ‘Steve will die if he sees anything like police activity.’ Gemma felt desperate. ‘At least get them to wait till Mike transmits the layout of Fayed’s place. Tell them they can’t act without that sort of refined intelligence.’

Angie lowered her voice. ‘I’ll do my best, but you should know there are people higher up in the job who think that something like this is just what they need. They’ll get increased funding, more press coverage. More get tough on drug barons bullshit.’

‘Angie I’m talking about Steve’s
life
!
Not some goddamn PR operation for the brass to wank over.’

‘Girl, I know it. I’m just passing on what I hear. You know how stupid some of those clowns are!’

‘Call them off. Right now!’

‘I’ll do my best,’ repeated Angie.

‘
No!
’ shouted Gemma. But it was too late. Angie was gone. ‘God, Mike. What am I going to do?’

‘Ring Fayed again,’ urged Mike. ‘Tell him we’ll do everything he wants. Calm the whole situation down a few notches. He can’t win. It’s only a matter of time before he sees that.’

‘Steve could be dead before he does!’ Gemma made a decision. All the fear and frustration in her mind and body suddenly coalesced and her resolution not only seemed possible, but also the only direction to take. ‘I know what has to be done,’ she said. ‘I’m going in myself.’

‘That’s crazy,’ said Mike. ‘What the hell do you think you can do by yourself in there?’ Almost without a pause he added, ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I need you on the outside. You told me how you can translate—demodulate the radio frequencies,’ she said. ‘Okay. Start demodulating right now. Get me the code for that metal roller door.’

‘You’ll just end up in the same mess as Steve,’ said Mike. ‘At least wait until the SPG people get here.’

‘I’ve got to get him out before any SPG operation,’ said Gemma. ‘Or Steve dies.’

‘Let the experts do their job, Gemma,’ Mike said. ‘They’ll get him out.’

‘Experts? There’s no time!’ Her voice was almost inaudible. ‘Do you know how long it takes to depress a plunger full of heroin into someone’s arm?’ she asked. ‘Death is almost instantaneous.’