Half Moon Bay (6 page)

Nick’s strides were brisk. The ankle holster was a comforting tightness inside his boot, but a gun wasn’t going to be much use to him, or Ellie, if he wasn’t around the next time she went courting trouble. He’d spotted her camera bag with its distinctive surfboard charm as he’d turned to leave, a bag he remembered loading into the back of an armoured personnel carrier two years ago. The same bag she’d clutched in her hand as she stood on the top stair of the jet and looked back at him as he saluted her. In an age of backpacks and cheap designer fakes, something about the battered leather had caught his attention. It seemed appropriate for the serious young woman.

Everything about that day was crystal clear in his memory. As a commander, losing one of his men was the ultimate horror. To also lose a journalist imbedded with his force multiplied that emotion ten-fold. It scared the hell out of him knowing the after-effects of that day were playing out in Half Moon Bay with Ellie now front and centre on the action.

His control had almost snapped when he realised she was in the council chambers during the discussion he’d just had with O’Sullivan. She would have heard everything. Bloody little idiot. Hiding under a table, for God’s sake. What was she trying to prove?

He needed to make her understand this was dangerous, life-threatening. This operation had been going on too long to be abandoned now. He would, however, need to rethink his strategy and, at the very least, change the plan. There was a real risk Ellie would come storming down to the docks looking for the money if she worked out what was really going on. It was possible she still thought it was about corruption and shonky developments. Even Nina hadn’t known the full extent of the operation that killed her.

The vast network of corruption and drug smuggling uncovered by the defence force inquiry had shocked him. Private security contractors were an everyday part of the military landscape in Afghanistan. Most were known to have their fingers in many pies, but at least one had crossed the line and branched out into crime. Beyond Borders Strikeforce, or BBS, had a high profile, right up alongside Blackwater Security. While the USA military used Blackwater to protect its assets in the early days of the war, several other countries contracted BBS for similar roles.

The way Nick saw it, having a guard dog was fine provided you kept it on a leash. If you let it out at night then it was going to skulk around in darkened alleys and that’s where the trouble lay. BBS had forged alliances with several warlords in opium producing districts. Those regions were some of the most peaceful. What Nina had uncovered was the reason for that peace. Drug trafficking meant money and stability for people wearied by decades of war. They were less likely to take up arms if their bellies were full and their families housed.

It pained him that men and women who’d served in their country’s defence force, even a few Australians, would be lured by the higher pay scales to work for these contractors. The financial rewards were higher, but so were the risks. And then there was the whole moral dilemma. He knew of at least two good men who’d been embroiled in the operation.

It made his decision to leave the army more difficult in so many ways. He hadn’t walked away from his career lightly, having spent years working his way up the chain of command. Bringing out the best in his men and women was something he enjoyed, something he’d worked hard at achieving. It rankled that there would be those who saw his resignation as an admission of guilt, of being complicit. He’d sooner cut off his arm than traffic drugs. But his resignation allowed him to follow up this investigation in a way he couldn’t before, tied as he was by defence force protocols. It allowed him to slant his evidence so no blame or shame came to rest on the shoulders of his men or Nina’s family. He’d chosen what he deemed to be the honourable path rather than toeing the government line. People’s lives were more important than a truth that would be distorted by the media.

Being portrayed as someone who’d not taken as much due care as he should have would always needle him. It was important to make sure he used that anger to keep him vigilant. He would not lose anyone else on his watch.

It took a deliberate effort to slow his pace, loosening tense muscles with a roll of his shoulders. He had to get a grip. Now was not the time to go rushing headlong into some of O’Sullivan’s colleagues with a scowl on his face.

To the rest of the world he was just an urban engineer, here to see that a development was given council approval. He needed to hold it together for another week, two at the most. The assignment should be completed by then, the evidence watertight. The next shipment would be here and he’d move onto the clean-up phase. The reconstruction task would sit more comfortably than his current role.

He could remember vividly his first attempt at building. It was a kennel for his dog. On a freezing cold Sydney night it seemed impossibly cruel to an eight-year-old to leave the family dog outside. His father had laughed at his efforts and the dog didn’t know what to do with it either, but it was the beginning of a desire to build things. That desire grew stronger with age. Being a combat engineer in the Australian Army meant he had the opportunity to protect and create, make communities stronger; empower them to work towards a better future with vital infrastructure.

This current subterfuge left a sour taste in his mouth. But he also understood that it could be necessary to knock down crumbling buildings, replace pylons and dig up shoddy road foundations if it meant a safer future. In Half Moon Bay he needed to clean out the council corruption and end the drug trafficking, no matter what the personal cost might be.

And Ellie Wilding? Every time he saw her he wanted to reach out and touch her, reassure her it would be okay. Behind that steely defiance he saw an echo of the profound grief etched into her soul. Two years hadn’t dimmed that compulsion to comfort her, nor had it changed his opinion of her courage and her strength.

He’d need to come up with a plan, and soon, to deal with her. Could he risk losing her? Just the thought made his stomach turn, but he knew the operation was bigger than an individual. Too much riding on this operation, too much at stake, too many other lives at risk for him to compromise it for one woman . . . But if it came to the crunch? Could he really leave her caught in the crossfire?

The phone rang as Alex was getting ready to leave his townhouse. He glanced at it. Blocked number. Probably Teisha ringing from Sammie’s place. He shoved the tail of his polo shirt into his jeans. This he didn’t need right now.

‘Hiya.’ The phone was tucked under his chin as he fumbled with his leather belt.

‘Alexander Creighton?’ There was a delay on the line. An international call centre selling some crap he didn’t need? He took the stairs two at a time.

‘Who’s this?’

‘You don’t know me yet, Mr Creighton, or may I call you Alex, but I’d like to meet with you. I have some information. A story you may be interested in.’

‘Really?’ Leads came from the strangest sources and while Alex was sceptical he knew better than to dismiss a phone call as a crank before he had more details. ‘Such as?’

‘I’d need to see you in person to discuss that.’

‘I’ll be back in Sydney in a week. I assume you are in Sydney.’ Alex strode through into the living room looking for his loafers. He dropped onto the navy couch and shoved his feet into the shoes as the man chuckled.

‘No, but I will be for our discussion.’

‘Okay, so who are you again, and how did you get this number?’ It was privately listed, unlike his mobile.

‘Your pretty girlfriend was very helpful.’

Alex sat bolt upright and ran his hand over his head. ‘That right?’ Alarm bells were deafening him. ‘Who would that be?’

‘Teisha.’ The tension in Alex’s neck formed a knot.

‘Thought you said you weren’t in Sydney.’

‘I’m not, but my staff are. One of them met her last night. She thought you’d be interested.’

‘I see. And your name again?’

‘Lachlan will do for now. We’ll be in touch when you return.’ The phone line went dead.

What was that about?
He tapped the phone on his chin, feeling the pit of his stomach roll over.
Teisha
. As he waited for the call to connect he headed into his compact kitchen and leant on the marble bench.

The phone diverted through to her message bank. His reflection in the window as he waited for the message to finish wasn’t reassuring. Double frown lines dipped between flinty grey eyes. He looked as worried as he felt, his hair messed up from his hands and his mouth set in a straight line. ‘Hi, babe, it’s me, just rang to check in. I’m heading off. Must have had a wild night with Sammie. Take care. Bye.’

It sounded lame even to his ears, but he couldn’t quite summon ‘I love you’. Not when he was about to drive up to see the only woman he’d ever really loved. He logged onto his bank account and checked the balance. Nothing unusual, no unexplained deposits. Good. Maybe he was just being paranoid. He shut the laptop down and packed it away, still sifting through the ramifications from the phone call. Time to get going or he’d be late.

He tossed his leather duffel bag over his shoulder and jiggled the car keys, scanning over his stuff strewn around the room. Apart from his work, which he meticulously stored in his study, possessions meant very little to him, except maybe his Porsche. The townhouse was just somewhere to crash. It was secure, functional and furnished by a previous girlfriend with a shopping addiction and a passion for interior design. The perfectly matched lounge and dining setting were largely covered in newspapers, books and discarded clothes. His cleaner was a miracle worker who deserved a medal. This week she was on holidays.

Everything he needed in his life fitted into a small bag and the tiny boot of his car. Travelling light was a lesson he’d learnt early. Truth be told, once he’d become addicted to Lee Child’s Jack Reacher books he’d made it his mission to be unencumbered. It made Teisha and her passion for shopping and accumulating an even bigger anachronism in his life. The Wilding girls understood the need to be free. Always had. They travelled light too.

The roller door rattled up in its track and the lights on the Porsche blinked as he keyed the remote. He slung his bag onto the passenger seat, seeing his reflection in the high red gloss on the boot as he walked around to the driver’s side. Ruby was a 911 and all his. A man was allowed to have one indulgence.

His tight smile was still in place as he hit the motorway heading north out of Sydney. There might be plenty of sports cars in Sydney, but Ruby still turned heads. The joy of driving her was like a precursor to sex. Probably some of the appeal that kept Teisha glued to his side.

Maybe Ruby would work her magic on Ellie. He frowned. Was it Ellie or Nina who loved sports cars? The more he thought about it the more he decided it was Nina, but surely no woman was immune to the throaty growl of the V8 and the thrusting acceleration when he jabbed the pedal. It did something for him every time. He could always pretend it was a rental if Ellie didn’t approve.

His mobile rang. ‘Hiya.’

‘Alex, it’s Jan. I’ve remembered who that contact was for the defence force.’ His colleague was renowned for being a terrier when it came to research.

‘Great. I’m driving on hands-free, so can you text it through to me as well?’

‘Sure, sure. His name is Dave Miller. He was in Afghanistan when Nina was shot. I’m pretty sure he was the liaison officer at the time. I don’t know why he managed to stay out of the inquiry’s limelight, but he did.’

‘So he would know Nicholas Lawson well?’

‘Have to. They were both there when Ellie flew Nina out of Kandahar.’

‘Right. Thanks for that.’

‘I’ve only got an email address on him and he’s OS at the moment. He’s officially stationed in Canberra. Don’t know whether that’s relevant or not.’

‘Great. That’s fantastic, Jan. Appreciate it.’

His colleague laughed. ‘I’ll appreciate the favour when I call it in too. Oh, and one more thing, a guy named Lachlan phoned here this morning. Wouldn’t talk to anyone else. Just said to let you know he’d called.’

A tiny frisson of alarm threaded up Alex’s spine. ‘Really? Wonder what he wants this time.’ He was going to play it cool. Jan was very good at sniffing out stories. He was happy to share some stuff, but not everything.

‘If he’s a friend of yours that’s okay then, because the girl who took the message thought he sounded weird.’

‘Plenty of weird friends and contacts in my back pocket.’

She laughed again. ‘You’re so right there. Teisha didn’t bother to show up for work today. Is she with you?’

‘No, not likely. She went clubbing last night with her girlfriends.’

‘Ah, at least she could have phoned.’

‘You know what she’s like.’

‘That I do. Anyway, better run. Leads to follow, headlines to make. Catch you.’

Alex watched the signs for Newcastle flash by. What information did this Lachlan have? Could it be payback for something? His jaw clenched involuntarily. Possibly.

He settled back into the firm leather curves and relaxed his hand on the steering wheel. At least four hours driving ahead of him, with plenty of time to ponder.

By a quarter to four the Bowls Club was packed. Nicholas Lawson found a space at the back of the open room and sipped his drink. The club renovations looked recent. The smell of stale beer hadn’t yet managed to soak into the new carpets. The light, streaming in through the picture windows overlooking the greens outside, played over a diverse crowd. He scanned across it, standing taller than most.

The old, the young, the workers, the retirees and the children had all come together. The scent of expensive perfumes mixed with the sweat from building sites and the freshness of laundered clothes.

The screen printer in the village had worked overtime and more than half the crowd were wearing matching T-shirts. ‘Battle For Our Bay’ was scrawled on the front and ‘Back Off Our Bay’ across the back.

A murmur swelled through the room. Nick felt a prickle of awareness and, even before his eyes found her, he knew Ellie Wilding had arrived.

She made her way through the crowd, stopping for quick hugs. Her hair was a golden cascade that tumbled round her shoulders and flowed down her slogan-emblazoned T-shirt. She shed light and vitality, a quick smile never far from her lips, halfway between the sweaty jogger and the immaculate professional he’d confronted yesterday.

A carefully groomed elderly lady gathered her close and Nicholas straightened his back against the quick stab of guilt. These were real people, with dreams, fears, futures, and he was using them as pawns. Lying did not sit comfortably with him, but the rules of engagement never changed, no matter what battle he was fighting.

‘Nick, you made it, then.’ A hard hand gripped his shoulder, and he turned to face the journalist he’d found poking around on the development block.

‘Alex, good to see you.’ He shook hands, feeling the sweat on the other man’s hand. Interesting. Nerves or guilt? he wondered. ‘Great turnout for a small town.’

‘Yeah, Ellie promised me they were pretty fired up about the whole thing. Have you met her yet?’

Nick sidestepped the question. ‘I’ve only had time to grab a quick beer.’

‘She’s over with Mavis and Ron.’ Alex pointed at the bar where a big bear of a man had his arm round Ellie. ‘Mavis runs the Bowling Club pretty much single-handedly and Ron used to be the mayor before they had an electoral redistribution. Nice old couple who keep an eye on Ellie. I’ll introduce you.’ He set off without looking to see if Nick was following him.

With gritted teeth, Nick trailed along behind him. This was not what he had in mind for today. He’d planned to stay out of trouble at the back of the meeting and just gather some more intelligence. Now he was going to have to deal with Ellie in public.

Ellie wrinkled her nose at Alex who tucked a wayward blond curl behind her ear as he leant in for a kiss.

‘Hey, my friend, glad you could make it. Good drive up?’

Nicholas felt his smile brighten as Ellie angled her head just a touch, leaving Alex with her cheek rather than her lips. He also saw the flare of alarm in Ellie’s navy blue eyes as her gaze connected with his.

‘Yep, took just under five hours. Turnout’s fantastic.’

‘Thanks. They’re amazing people.’ She turned her shoulder, effectively blocking Nicholas from the conversation, but pitching her voice to reach him, he guessed. ‘I just hope we can make a difference. We do understand the developer claims to have bought the land from the council thinking it was a legitimate deal, but it wasn’t.’

She touched Alex’s shoulder for emphasis. ‘Did you check out the land when you came in? It’s a beautiful spot.’

Alex nodded, turning to include Nicholas. ‘Yeah I did, and met Nick Lawson, the consulting engineer, working out there. Ellie, meet Nick.’

Nick saw the tension in Ellie’s eyes as she turned to him. ‘Ellie. We have met before. How could I forget you?’ He reached out and she had no option but to shake. He didn’t miss the tremble in her hand.

‘Mr Lawson.’ Her voice had a catch to it.

‘My friends call me Nick.’

‘Well, Mr Lawson, welcome to the Club. Perhaps you’ll be able to explain why your development should go ahead against the community’s wishes.’

His smiled back, amused. ‘Of course, Ellie. I would very much appreciate the chance to put my company’s case. Nothing like an informed debate to clear the air. They’ll get the facts, then, not gossip that’s been gleaned by eavesdropping.’

‘Hey, that’s great. I’ll get both sides for my story,’ interrupted Alex.

Nicholas continued smoothly. ‘Fantastic, we’re all agreed. Lead the way, Ellie.’ He kept the laughter from his face as she stomped away. Bravo. Now he’d made her angry as well as unsettled.

Feeling outmanoeuvred, and still conscious of the sensation of Nick’s hand on hers and the challenging light in his eyes, Ellie swung away fuming, looking for Ron.

‘Mavis? Is Ron ready to go?’

‘Yes, love. He’s just plugging in the microphone.’ Mavis put her fingers in her mouth and whistled shrilly. The overflowing room gradually stilled.

‘Er, welcome, folks.’ Ron’s voice boomed through the PA system and the crowd groaned. ‘Sorry about that.’ He moved the microphone back.

‘We’d like to thank you all for coming. We know that on a Friday afternoon you’d normally all be doing something more important than drinking Mavis’s bar dry.’ The crowd chuckled. ‘Now, you all heard the one about the man whose doctor told him he needed to lose weight.’ The crowd started to clap, hooting and laughter drowning out his words. Ron held his hand up in resignation. ‘Okay, okay. Just this once, I’ll skip the bad jokes and hand you straight over to a lifetime member of this community who I’m sure you all know – the lovely Ellie Wilding. Big hand, folks.’ Ron raised the microphone above his head, clapping loudly into it.

Ellie stepped up and waited for the audience to quieten down. ‘Thank you all for coming today. It’s a fantastic turnout. We all knew Mrs Bell. Most of us spent some time sitting on the wrong side of her desk at school and I’m sure a few of you remember her detentions less fondly. But she was a wonderful member of Half Moon Bay, with an amazing sense of community. Watching her legacy turned into a housing estate and an exclusive resort, instead of a community centre, will probably have her coming back to haunt us.’

The crowd laughed, a swell of appreciation. Ellie warmed to the responsive audience, but as her eyes scanned the crowd, her gaze snagged on Nicholas.

He was leaning against a round bar table, a booted foot propped on the rung of a stool, arms folded loosely across his broad chest. The expression in his dark eyes was unfathomable. As much as it pained her to admit it, he had presence.

Undeniable.

His stance, his demeanour, the faint easy smile – all spoke of a man in control, and not just of himself.

The short dark hair and grey suit, taut across his shoulders, heightened the impression of power. She held his gaze in silent challenge, rebelling against the attraction she felt. She framed him in her mind as a subject in a photograph. It worked and she raised her chin and shored up her composure.

‘Many of you donated money to the initial feasibility study that was conducted on the site. Many of you gave your time and expertise to draw up designs for the very best facilities. Others of you have pledged labour and materials to help keep the costs down. I know that every single one of you here today wants this project to get off the ground. We want the original proposal that was agreed upon before the council saw fit to sell the land and line its own pockets.’

The crowd rumbled with subdued anger.

Ellie nodded with them. ‘I know. That’s why it’s so important that we send a clear message to our elected representatives. Remind them all that we voted them in and we can vote them out again. They are supposed to work for the good of this community!’ Her gaze slid past Nicholas again, a pulse in her throat beating. Something had changed in his look, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint, so she hurried on.

‘We only have a couple of weeks to get the planning board’s decision overturned. I’m giving a presentation on Monday at the council chambers. I need any of you who can make it to be there. Voice your opinion. Shake the hand of your divisional councillor and tell them you don’t agree with the decision. If this attempt fails, we’ll have to go to court and that’s going to cost. Ron will talk in a minute about the plan of attack he thinks we should also implement as our first strategy. Before I hand over to him, though, there is someone who’d like to say a few words. Some of you have already met him. He’s done a bit of window shopping in the Bay.’

She smiled, inwardly satisfied with her dig at him for charming most of the women in Half Moon Bay. She saw Felicity’s wry grin. Heads were turning in the crowd looking for the outsider, and subtly a space had opened up around Nicholas and Alex.

‘Actually, I should introduce two men. Firstly, Alex Creighton. Alex is a respected journalist with the
Sydney Morning Herald
and he’s here to write a story about our community. Big wave, Alex.’ Her friend obligingly raised his hand above his head. ‘It’s been a while since he last visited so make sure you buy him a drink and have a chat, folks. Show him what a committed community we still have here.’ A faint self-mocking cheer undulated through the room.

‘Secondly, the man next to him is Mr Nicholas Lawson, the consulting engineer for the development.’

Some heckling broke out at the back of the room and Ellie held up her hand for silence.

‘Hey, guys, remember we’re country folk and we make all our visitors welcome. Mr Lawson?’ She held out the microphone to him as he threaded his way through the crush.

His hand was warm as he took the microphone. Damn it, she fumed. He’s too smooth and sophisticated to hate.

‘Thanks to the lovely Ellie for that warm introduction. I appreciate the opportunity to talk to you today. I’ll keep it simple and get straight to the point. The company I work for bought the land fair and square from the council. We were always upfront with what we planned for the site.’

He looked over the crowd, engaging them, barely needing the microphone. ‘The council at no time indicated any opposition to our plans. The housing blocks will be large. The resort will be an exclusive retreat built to blend in with the foreshore and the line of the sand dunes. Streets will be landscaped and there’ll be plenty of public parks for the residents.’ He held them, mesmerised. ‘All our developments are about communities working together so lastly, but by no means the least, we will be donating one million dollars to build a community centre on a different site.’

There was an audible gasp from the crowd.

‘Yes.’ The expression on his face, as he met Ellie’s stricken eyes, was fathomless.

What sort of deception had the mayor planned now? One million dollars? Drug money? How much did that make the whole deal worth if they could afford that sort of largess? Ellie swallowed, caught off balance by his claims, struggling to comprehend the scale of the operation.

‘Just a minute, young man, I saw the contract of purchase and there was no mention of any donations.’ Ron’s voice quivered with anger. ‘You’re welcome to come here and sell us your dream, but don’t treat us like village idiots.’ In an instant, he’d turned the mood back. ‘This council has sold property that it had no right to sell.’

‘Ron, we and the council have the community’s best interests at heart. Our development will add enormous value to your own property. It will bring a different type of resident to Half Moon Bay, injecting money into the existing businesses. We recognise a community centre is needed, but we think it would be better sited elsewhere, closer to the need.’

His tone was warm and the mood of the crowd was shifting again.

‘Yeah, sure. And we’re supposed to trust the council to do the right thing with one million bucks? It’ll disappear into Lord Mayor O’Sullivan’s retirement fund.’ Ron’s tone stayed hard.

‘We’ll work with them and the community to find the best solution. It’s in our interest to make Half Moon Bay even more attractive than it already is.’ Nicholas shrugged, his hands open wide to the crowd, inviting them to take his side.

‘Hang on a minute.’ Ellie finally found her voice. ‘There was nothing at all in the contract about this. Without having it in writing, that donation is not enforceable and you know it. Even if it was, is it going to provide what this community really needs? Do you care if it does? Do you care what happens to all the little community groups that need somewhere to base themselves? Do you care about Meals on Wheels, the SES, the Red Cross thrift shop? Mrs Bell did, and her wishes have been ignored.’ Her voice crackled with the fire of her opposition.

‘Ms Wilding, you know this area has limited industry, that tourism is the drive behind the economy. You need more avenues of providing income, new ways of securing jobs. That comes with growth.’

‘That’s for the community to decide,’ Ellie retorted. ‘We don’t need some developer, in cahoots with a corrupt council, coming here, imposing his idea of city values on us. This isn’t about house values and money, it’s about lifestyles that nurture people, keep them safe. About building facilities this aging community needs. When was the last time you actually spoke to your neighbours? I bet you don’t even know their names.’ She shook her head in the silence before continuing. ‘Don’t presume to understand this community because you’ve been poking around it for the last few days, doing the background research and smooching up to O’Sullivan.’

Her voice rose. Even without the microphone, her words went clear to the back of the room. ‘You’re here to rip out the maximum value you can from a beautiful piece of land. You’ve no concern where this leads in ten, fifteen or one hundred years. You do not know us, nor do you have our best interests at heart. The crux of the matter is not the design you propose, but the whole concept of selling land bequeathed to the community. You’ve done a deal with a city council that has betrayed its voters and stinks of corruption. That makes you no better than them, so leave now. You’re not welcome here, just go – leave now.’ The last two words were harsh with her anger.