The Tower (10 page)

It was a clear day, the pollution washed out of the air by last night's rain, and the gleaming windows and light grey concrete were clear against the blue sky. The Tower looked even taller than it was because of its location: it was built away from the main cluster of buildings in the business district, which made it striking in photographs. Then he entered the grid of the CBD and lost sight of the building.

Parking around City Central was worse than Ferris had said last night—far worse. The police vehicles were almost on top of each other. He left his car far away and wandered back, down the lane that led to the front door. There was a big gold Mercedes there, almost blocking the road, with a large Chinese driver leaning against it, smoking. Way to go, Troy thought as he pushed the station door open.

Eight

T
he constable at the counter gave him directions to the superintendent's office, and when he reached it he found Siegert, Kelly and a man Siegert introduced as Henry Wu, CEO of Morning Star. As Troy shook the guy's hand he could tell he'd interrupted an argument. They all looked at him impatiently. Siegert's face was flushed and his eyes were red; Troy guessed he hadn't slept last night.

‘Mr Wu has asked us to reopen The Tower this morning, and I've been explaining why we can't do that,' Siegert said. He pointed to a copy of the
Herald
lying on his desk. ‘Last night it was the site of what's probably a murder, plus another death, both of them the subjects of ongoing investigations that still need to establish all the facts.'

Troy wondered what facts still needed to be established about his own actions. But at least Siegert didn't seem to be as aggressive as he had been yesterday.

‘We have almost a thousand workers up there,' Wu said. He went on to argue that if the place had been different, say a factory with that many workers, or a small town, the police would have cordoned off only those parts of interest to them. The same approach should be taken here. He spoke English very well and his voice carried an enormous amount of assurance. There was no anger in it, nothing to match the emotion still visible in Siegert's eyes.

‘With respect, sir,' Troy said, ‘we might close down the whole site if it was a factory. It all depends on the facts of the investigation. In this case we still don't have an identity for the victim and we're looking for one of her possessions. It might be somewhere on the building site.'

‘The
construction
site,' Wu said impatiently, as though it was an important distinction. ‘If the man with the handbag has escaped, presumably he's taken the bag with him?'

Siegert and Kelly looked at each other and then at Troy. There'd been nothing about the handbag in the paper.

Wu started to put his case again, and the others listened to him patiently. Kelly was being polite, and with the way she smiled and kept her eyes focused on him, Troy guessed the guy must have some clout. This went on for a few more minutes. The senior police would say a few words and then Wu would come back at them, still sounding completely confident that his view would prevail. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Troy wondered why Siegert didn't just throw him out. There was work to be done, and he wanted to know why he'd been called in.

The phone rang and Siegert snatched it up. He listened, grunting, and finally said something polite, his tone not entirely convincing. He replaced the phone heavily, as though it had just acquired a lot more weight.

‘Blayney,' he said to Kelly. He turned to Wu. ‘You can reopen the site at 11 am. Except for the encampment down in the car park, and the two crime scenes. But no cameras anywhere.' Looking at Troy now: ‘Mr Wu is making a documentary about his building.'

Wu said, ‘Actually, they approached us. They already have a distribution deal with over a dozen countries. There is considerable international interest in the Morning Star Tower.'

He stood up and looked at his watch. He had to flick his sleeve back to do so, and something about the gesture caused Siegert's face to redden again. But Kelly was fine, she was shaking Wu's hand and telling him to call them if he had any more problems. Wu pulled his hand from her grip, as though keen to leave the room. Siegert opened the door and said goodbye to Wu, who didn't even look at Troy.

Closing the door, Siegert looked at Kelly. ‘This is all wrong,' he said angrily. ‘And how did he know about the handbag?'

‘It's The Tower, Ron,' she said. ‘That does make things different.'

Siegert shook his head. ‘I know that. But this is a murder, we don't have the victim's ID, we have a killer loose on the site. And then these illegals—'

‘The killer's probably long gone.'

‘We don't know that,' he said loudly. But his anger was not directed at Kelly, not really, although Troy knew there was something between them, something that was not being said, maybe because he was there. Recovering himself, Siegert stared at Kelly. ‘This is not ideal, is it?'

She eyed him and then, as though the word hurt her, said, ‘No.'

He smiled grimly. The admission seemed to make him feel better. Nodding slowly, he opened the door again to signal they should leave.

Kelly led Troy through the station, explaining that Vella had left earlier to prepare for his trip to Bourke. As they walked he realised she knew where she was going, which impressed him. Generally it took him a few days to find his way around a new place, his mind preoccupied by the early stages of an investigation. And this station had at least five levels.

‘Wu must have good contacts,' he said.

‘He had a point,' Kelly said over her shoulder. ‘It could have gone either way.'

‘Won't make our job any easier.'

‘We just have to move on,' she said. ‘I've got a sergeant, Brad Stone. He's from Fraud.'

‘He's got homicide experience?'

‘It's the best I could get.'

Troy was surprised. Things were bad in the squad, but he hadn't realised they were like this.

‘You can't,' he said.

She found an empty room and went in, sat down and yawned. He realised she hadn't changed her clothes from last night, which meant she hadn't slept either. Still, she looked a lot better than Siegert had.

‘He's a good detective,' she said gently, touching him on the arm for a moment. ‘We have to do the best with what we've got.'

Putting a sergeant without specialist experience in charge of a homicide investigation was unprecedented, and he wondered why she wasn't admitting this.

‘I could come back to work,' he said. ‘Give him some advice.'

‘You know I can't do that,' she said, but there was something in her tone that gave him hope.

‘But I'm fine, really. Look,' he said, putting out his hand. ‘No shaking.'

She smiled. ‘Are you really okay?'

‘Staying home will kill me. I want to be part of this.'

She seemed to be considering it, but then, with a certain reluctance, said no again. He argued with her some more, keeping it under control but forceful. After a bit he said, ‘It's got to be a breach of some procedure to put a detective with no homicide experience in charge of this. Especially with The Tower involved. Compared with that, allowing me back to work is a small thing.'

He could see he'd touched a nerve. Finally she nodded her head.

‘All right,' she said. ‘As long as you're sure you're fine. But you'll still need to see the psychologist and do a stress shoot before you can have your gun back.'

Troy felt a surge of exultation. Anna would not be happy. But this was where he needed to be.

Kelly said, ‘So, let's introduce you to Sergeant Stone.'

When they reached the office they'd been given, there were two people in it. One was Ruth Moore, unloading a big cardboard box, her skin flushed from the exertion. When she noticed Kelly and Troy she stood up and turned to the other person there, a big man who was sitting at a computer screen. He jumped to his feet with relief.

‘Bloody [email protected],' he said. ‘Never used it before.'

Kelly smiled tightly. [email protected] was the system that recorded all the information gathered during an investigation. She said, ‘Brad Stone, Nicholas Troy.'

Troy shook hands, wondering why Stone hadn't been at the meeting in Siegert's office. The sergeant had red hair and freckles, and a suit tight across the shoulders. He seemed physical and impatient, unlike any Fraud detective Troy had met.

‘Welcome to Strike Force Tailwind,' Stone said.

‘I need to go,' Kelly said. Then to Stone, ‘I'm working on those bodies we talked about. My staff officer will call you.'

He nodded and Kelly smiled at Troy and Ruth, then walked quickly out of the room. She hadn't told Stone what Troy was doing there. It occurred to Troy that maybe he already knew. Kelly had known if he came in he would beg to be allowed to come back to work, and she had decided to say yes. She was very good.

Stone said, ‘Try not to look so disappointed.'

‘What?'

The big man was smiling broadly, making no attempt to hide his nervousness. ‘I know you'd rather have one of your own in charge. But you Murderers seem to've run out of sergeants.'

Troy nodded. ‘You've done homicide work before?'

Stone sat down and shifted in his seat. Troy wondered why he was so twitchy. ‘I've been on loan interstate,' he said. ‘Can't tell you the details, but it did involve homicide work.'

‘It wasn't fraud?'

‘There was a bit of everything.' Stone stared at him almost rudely. Then, softening, ‘I'm hoping you'll play an important part in running this investigation.'

Troy thought it was a strange thing to say. ‘I hope I will too. Who have we got?'

‘Four so far,' Stone said. ‘They're out at Villawood, reinterviewing the illegals.'

Villawood was the city's detention centre for people with no legal right to be in the country. Stone named the people who'd been allocated to them from Central and an adjacent station. It was crazy, Troy thought: he was the only experienced homicide detective there. And he was upset to hear one of the locals was Little.

‘We don't want him,' he said. ‘He's racist, I don't think he can deal impartially with Pakistanis.'

Stone stared at him. ‘Any proof of this?'

‘Just something he said.'

‘What, one comment?'

‘Yes.'

‘I believe you have an Indian wife?' Troy wondered who'd told him that. ‘Maybe you're a bit sensitive in this area. I wouldn't blame—'

‘No, that's okay,' Troy said. ‘Blame me all you like. I am sensitive in this area, and it's not just because my wife was born in India. I can't work with Little.'

He felt better having said it. Much better.

Stone, suddenly looking tired, scratched his chest. ‘You're prepared to come off the investigation if necessary?'

‘I'm saying you'll have to choose between us,' Troy said.

As soon as he spoke, he wondered where the words had come from. It was not like him.

Stone jumped to his feet again. ‘Give me to the end of the day on this, okay?' Troy nodded and Stone made his way to the door. ‘Come with me. I want you to look at someone.'

They went downstairs, and Stone explained that ballistics had confirmed McIver had been shot with his own gun, the one found in the car park. ‘Our prime suspect is Nawaz Khan; he tried to wipe his prints off the gun but we got a few partials.'

Troy said, ‘But there's no residue on him. And if Khan was the man upstairs, I would have recognised him. I saw all the illegals last night.'

‘Have another look,' Stone said. ‘You never know your luck. We got another one too, late last night. He'd been outside, visiting a doctor. One of the uniformed guys on the boundary spotted him in Norfolk Street. He was upset because he's got a brother among those we caught. He started emoting, and our blokes nabbed him.'

‘Nice work.'

Stone grunted. ‘One of his mates says this guy likes to go to a brothel in Darlinghurst, so we paid them a visit. Turns out he'd gone there after the doctor. Our people found a Thai girl who'd been trafficked.' He shook his head and smiled. ‘The way we're going, this investigation will solve half the crimes in Sydney.'

Stone was scratching his chest again. He was not wearing a coat, and Troy saw that the holster beneath his arm was irritating him, as though he was unused to the feel of it. Yet it was an old holster, the edges of the leather rubbed smooth. Troy wondered why he was so uncomfortable with it.

They reached the custody section of the station and Stone had a word with the sergeant, who took them into the cell area and opened the hole in one of the doors. Stone gestured with his thumb and Troy peered in.

Khan was a lightly built man in his mid-thirties, wearing a paper smock and sitting on a bench staring at the wall. He ignored Troy.

‘Recognise him?' Stone said as Troy straightened up.

‘No. He's older than the man I saw last night.' Stone didn't seem too disappointed. Troy said, ‘Did you ask the security manager, Sean Randall?'

‘Not yet.' Stone peered in through the hole. ‘Some of our colleagues gave Khan a hard time. That might have got things off on the wrong foot.'

He walked down the short corridor and indicated for Troy to look in another cell. The man sitting inside this one was big, with dark hair and sallow skin. He was reading a magazine and he too ignored Troy.

‘Alex Sidorov,' said Stone. ‘Australian-born, successful in the concrete business. Now we know why.' Troy raised his eyebrows. ‘Uses illegal labour. Not a bad racket—a big site like The Tower, there's so much going on no one's going to bother you.' He indicated for the uniformed officer standing behind them to unlock the door, and stepped into the cell. Troy followed him in, and smelled expensive aftershave.