Disappear (37 page)

‘I’ll call Razell in a minute. McConnell?’

‘I sent a car for him but there’s no sign of him at his flat or at that newspaper office. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Max had better luck checking on that name from those letters, Rentin, and your hunch was right.’

‘Where is she now?’ Lachlan directed this to Max Bryant.

‘Died eighteen years ago. Body released to her son for a private burial. But there are no records of any such burial.’

‘So, that’s how it began,’ said Lachlan.

‘There’s more. I just got off the line from the contact number on that Longer Life website. A guy named William Potter answered, got him up in the middle of the night. He wasn’t too pleased when he found out it was police in Australia.’ Bryant handed Lachlan the printouts from the website. ‘Fascinating stuff. All the guff on this cryonics, and on the Longer Life company.’

Lachlan flicked briefly through the pages. Lifelines Inc had been started twenty-two years before by a Californian millionaire industrialist named John Gallagher. He’d become interested in cryonics but didn’t want to sign up with any of the existing cryonics societies of the time. Gallagher liked to do things his own way so he’d started his own organisation. His was a commercial enterprise, signing up clients as well as building and selling the necessary equipment to others.

He had since died and been frozen. His son, Stephen Gallagher oversaw the organisation, and a retired colleague, William Potter, ran the company as a part time interest. It was the younger Gallagher and Potter who’d relocated the company and changed its name.

‘Potter was eager to help, though, when I told him we suspected a killer of using the cryonics gear,’ Bryant continued, ‘he told me one of their men, Clyde Fritzwater, came to Sydney for two days in the mid-Nineties as part of the sale arrangement with Winterstone.’

‘Why?’

‘To instruct Harold Masterton on how to operate the equipment and prepare bodies for freezing. One-on-one training, including how to make the surgically precise incisions needed. Apparently it’s possible for one person to carry out the procedures alone, though certainly not ideal.’

‘So Masterton bought the equipment,’ said Lachlan, puzzled.

‘Hold on. I got Fritzwater out of bed too. He confirmed that he made the trip. But even back then, Harold Masterton would’ve been a lot older than the man Fritzwater described having met. And there’s been no further contact in the years since between Longer Life and the man who made the purchase, the man he believed was named Masterton.’

‘A younger man? That ties in with what I suspect from the Falkstog surveillance.’ Lachlan picked up the phone. ‘No sign of any problems at the Parkes home?’

‘All quiet,’ Bryant said.

Lachlan wanted to make certain, and to bring Jennifer up to date. He called her landline number. ‘What’s the name of the guy currently posted there?’

‘Baltin,’ said Aroney.

Carly answered. ‘I’m fine, Sergeant Lachlan,’ she replied to his initial question, ‘and your Constable Baltin is right here. Do you think it would be all right if he took me to the hospital? Meg called and she needs the support right now. Samantha’s still critical.’

‘Not right now. Could you put your mother on?’

‘She had to go over to Henry Kaplan’s place. Roger called. Some kind of emergency. The constable’s arranged for a man to meet her there.’

Lachlan drew a sharp breath. ‘Listen to me carefully, Carly.’ The sudden steel in his voice alarmed her. ‘You’re to stay right where you are. Tell Baltin that no-one - friends or otherwise - are to be allowed in. No-one. Understand?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper.

Lachlan slammed the phone down unintentionally. ‘Come on,’ he called to Aroney as he ran for the door. He stopped for an instant at the front desk of the section dispatcher. ‘Put out an APB. All available cars, in the vicinity, to the Kaplan house, Vaucluse. Radio through the address. Pronto.’

Roger opened the front door as Jennifer stepped from her car and ran up the front steps. ‘Jen. Thank Christ. Thanks for coming.’

‘Don’t be silly. Of course I’d come. Where’s Henry?’

‘Upstairs, in the old rumpus room.’

‘What happened?’

‘Hard to say. I don’t think it’s a breakdown, otherwise I’d have called the medics. He just seemed to go off the deep end.’

‘God knows the two of you didn’t need this bombing on top of everything else.’

‘Or that miserable article by Rory McConnell.’

‘I could strangle him for that.’ Jennifer clenched her fists at the thought of how they’d all been duped.

‘Dad’s calmed down a bit now. But I’m worried –’

‘Let me go in alone and sit with him. He’s got to be made to see this isn’t the end of everything. I thought that once, after I lost Brian.’ She headed up the stairs.

‘Third door on the left,’ Roger said.

‘I remember.’

She slipped quietly into the room and looked about, puzzled. The room was empty. The wide, glass balcony doors were closed, the drapes pulled across, leaving only a soft half-light. Then she heard the door close behind her and the click of the lock.

Across town, Masterton was cleaning out his desk when Kaplan entered.

‘I’m sorry I snapped at you before,’ Kaplan said. He slumped down in the chair facing the desk.

Masterton saw a worn-out shell of the man he’d known for so long. His energy drained, Kaplan appeared drawn and shrunken. ‘I understand. Father and son stuff. It’s not like I haven’t had a front row seat to it all these years.’

‘I need a favour.’ Kaplan said. There was a tone of resignation in his voice.

‘Name it.’ Masterton observed Kaplan’s hands closely. They were shaking. In over three decades he’d never seen Henry even close to shaking with nerves.

‘I’m in no state to drive right now, Harold. But I need to get across town to police HQ. To see that detective. Lachlan.’

‘Why don’t you just phone him?”

‘This needs to be in person.’

‘No problem. I’ll drive you,’ Masterton said. ‘What’s this all about Henry?’

‘Something I should’ve done a long time ago.’

Masterton waited for an explanation. When there wasn’t one, he asked, ‘What?’

‘I can’t talk about it right now, Harold. Maybe later. But I need to see Lachlan now.’

They were half way out the door when the phone rang.

Roger pocketed the key to the rumpus room and retreated along the corridor to his father’s bedroom. He picked up the phone beside the bed and punched in the number. ‘Henry Kaplan, please. It’s his son. Urgent.’ He waited. ‘Dad?’

‘What?’

The reply was angry, confused. Good, thought Roger. ‘I’m at your place. Jennifer’s here.’

‘What’s going on, Roger?’

‘She’s agitated, losing control. Knows about your involvement with Brian and Winterstone.’

‘What the hell-’

‘No time to explain further. I’ve called the cops. Can you get here?’ He hung up without waiting for an answer.

While he’d been talking, Roger hadn’t heard the crunch of tyres on gravel outside, or the footsteps moments later on the front steps.

‘Change of plan,’ Kaplan said to Masterton. ‘I’ve got to rush home.’ He headed for the doorway.

‘Was that Roger?’ Masterton asked.

‘Yes.’

‘For God’s sake, Henry,
what
is going on?’

‘Can’t talk now.’

‘You’re in no state to drive, you said that yourself.’

‘I’ll be okay.’

Masterton took chase, following Kaplan to the lifts. ‘I’m driving you, Henry,’ he said.

Jennifer went to the balcony doors and peered through a parting in the drapes. Splinters of sunlight sparkled against the framework of bark and leaf that surrounded the house. The doors were locked. What was Roger doing? Was Henry even here? A cold uneasiness traced ghostly fingers up her spine.

She heard the click of the lock again and turned. Roger stood in the doorway. He closed the door behind him.

‘Roger..?’ The loop of wire in his hands sent an electric jolt of realisation through her. The implication was obvious. Samantha, attacked by the garrotte killer. Once again she heard Neil Lachlan’s words, someone close enough to your family to know you’d hired Stuart James. But Roger? For a sickening moment she thought her bladder would betray her.

‘It has to be this way, Jennifer.’ His voice was calm, impersonal.

‘What’s this all about, Roger?’ She struggled to sound forceful. In control.

He began to tingle all over, bursting with the urge to kill. He hadn’t expected to feel this way. Not with someone he knew so well. Not with Jennifer. Yet the sensation was there, deeper and stronger than ever. Is it because of my newfound freedom? he wondered.

This was the other, hidden side to him, freed now to become the dominant part.

My new life. It doesn’t matter whether I know the victim or not.

‘My father’s on his way, but I can’t take the chance that you’ll warn him in some way.’ He inched forward, beads of perspiration glinting on his forehead.

Terror gripped her like a physical thing, vice-like, crushing the breath from her lungs. ‘Warn him? Roger … stop this.’

All at once he lunged at her, cat-like, eyes alive with a darkness she hadn’t seen before. She reacted quickly, leaping back, arms raised protectively - but he lunged again, snapping the wire coil into place around her neck and stepping to the side, twisting the wire as he did.

‘Dear God -’ The words were ripped from her as the wire closed on her larynx, hard and cold against her flesh.

He positioned himself behind her, maintaining the rock solid hold on the wire. From this position it was easy to apply the final pressure while keeping the victim completely restrained.

He felt her body go rigid, every muscle and nerve-end tight with tension, trying to pull against him. Her hands had flown up to her throat, her fingers prying at the wire. It was a gesture he knew well.

So natural. So utterly useless.

He forced her onto her knees, his own knee pushing into the small of her back. She was fighting for breath now. Desperate. He allowed the tautness of the loop to slacken a little, giving her just enough breath. He had time enough to play and he wanted to experiment, draw it out. And talk. He wanted to boast - and to explain. After all, this was no stranger. Jennifer Parkes was part of the history of all that had happened.

Someone who would understand, as she died.

Jennifer gulped tiny mouthfuls of air. Not enough. ‘Roger … please, no …’ Her voice was a croak, her vision blurring fast.

‘You shouldn’t have interfered,’ Roger told her. ‘I can’t take the chance of others learning about Brian’s audit.’ His breath was heavy, hot against her ear. ‘No-one would have been any the wiser if you hadn’t hired that detective.’

‘The constable at my place … knows you called me …’ The words squeezed between her clenched teeth. ‘They’ll … know …’

‘They won’t even suspect,’ Roger said triumphantly. ‘There’s a nice little explosive device in that case on the table. Same as the one that tore into the mine. When I’m finished here I’ll watch from outside for my father to arrive, then I’ll detonate. The police will think you both died at the hands of the Asbestos Victims Organisation. A ratbag group that doesn’t even exist. And I’ll have eliminated two birds with one stone.’

The noose tightened again. ‘You … did that?’

‘Yes. Eventually they’ll figure there’s no AVO, but I’ve allowed for every eventuality. I made an anonymous call to that deputy commissioner, pointed him in the direction of Rory McConnell. That article of his came in very handy, it will help to make him look guilty.’

‘Why..?’ Despite the pain and the struggle for breath, Jennifer’s mind grasped for a plan. Keep him talking. He wants to talk.

‘I had to stop the sale. Without his precious corporation cash flow Dad couldn’t keep hiring the men who stopped me.’

‘I don’t … understand.’ She was taking short, regular breaths, reminding herself mentally to stay calm at all costs. Her vision had improved.

Don’t move, don’t panic him. He has to think I’m totally at his mercy and he has to keep talking.

‘Time’s up. I think you understand enough. And this makes perfect poetic sense, doesn’t it? First the mine, then the house of the man who owns the mine, while you just happened to be here.’ His voice had taken on a strange, dream-like quality.

‘Roger. We’re … friends.’

‘You shouldn’t have tried to take control, the way you always do. Like Brian. I thought a friend like him would keep his mouth shut about the secret money transferred into Winterstone. That’s why I hired him. But oh, no, not Brian.’ A short, incredulous laugh escaped his lips. ‘He wanted me to go to Dad, come clean about stealing the funds.’

‘Oh … God. You …’

‘No. Not like this. I ran him down.’ All of a sudden he jerked her head back and tightened the wire. ‘But that’s enough. Perhaps you shouldn’t have resisted my advances years ago, Jennifer. Things might have been different.’ He pulled tighter and tighter.

This was more intoxicating than any other “kill”. He had a searing heat in his loins, a lightheadedness, and he realised there would be time not just to garrotte Jennifer slowly but to rape her, disfigure that beautiful face with the edge of the wire - a greater power, a more all-encompassing control than he’d ever exercised before.

He could get better and better at this.

He realized now that erasing Jennifer Parkes was the final step in leaving his old life behind, and beginning the new.

And he could tell Jennifer, as she died, more about the detail of his killings. In particular his murder of Brian; how much he’d enjoyed the monthly ritual of maintaining the cylinders, housing the bodies and the containers that stored their blood; how he’d open the lids and look at the bodies, laughing and hugging himself as he thought of her anguish and the others who never knew what had become of their loved ones.

He loosened the wire again, allowing tiny breaths of air into Jennifer’s exploding lungs. Not nearly enough, just an amount to tease. He put his mouth to her ear, whispering harshly, ‘Let me tell you all about my game, Jen. Once I knew we were going to lose the warehouse, along with everything else, I knew I’d have to get rid of my frozen trophies. So I put the bodies back where they’d last been seen, knowing full well it would baffle the police - and annoy the hell out of the bastards who watched me all those years.’