Times of Trouble (33 page)

The first line showed
that ‘Jim and Keith’ were due to be at the Millennium Hotel at
12:30 pm on 18
^th
June
2008. So it was an old list. The other dates were every month or so
for the last six months of 2008. The names hardly varied; there was
either ‘Jim and Keith’ or ‘Lance and Ian’. I stared at the list,
wondering if it was a work roster, and if so, what kind of work?
Then I noticed something else scrawled on the side of the schedule,
which might have been a clue to why Lena assumed it was a filming
schedule. The writing had an arrow pointing to a row that listed
‘Jim and Keith’ at an address in October 2008, and said ‘camera and
lights supplied by Santo, Hillman double booked’. Camera and
lights. It looked like Lena was right. This was a schedule of
filming for a movie. But why film only one day a month?

As I stared at the
page, images of the faceless Bill Holland hanging out with women at
the bar of his nightclub flashed into my mind. Was it possible I
had in my hands his schedule for filming porn films? Ever since
Liam had revealed Sophie’s occupation to me, I felt like nothing
could shock me about her world anymore. I was the sister of a
prostitute who blackmailed her clients. My point of reference had
completely changed. So why wouldn’t a nightclub owner who
occasionally hired a prostitute not dabble in pornographic movie
production? Were Jim, Keith, Lance and Ian porn actors? It all
suddenly made sense.

And then something
else struck me. Did this give Bill a real motive for trying to keep
his liaisons with Sophie and Katie a secret? Maybe the blackmail
had something to do with porn films? Now I was more confused than
ever. Maybe the pairs of men were cameramen? That was also
possible. Maybe Sophie and Katie weren’t just acquainted with Bill
as escorts, maybe they were porn actresses. My stomach flipped in
protest. But I had to consider that I could be right. Was this
another way they made extra cash, on top of the prostitution and
the blackmail? Sophie had always wanted to be an actress. Had she
finally become one, whatever path it took?

I took the fax page
into the living room, and opened Liam’s laptop. As long as I had
clues, I was going forward, and this made me feel better than
sitting around sulking. Who knew what Liam was doing now? Probably
still trying to control his anger at missing Sophie this morning.
It was hard to see what, if any, information was useful to me. I
did a search for the name of the first hotel: Millennium Hotel,
17-25 Sloane Street, Knightsbridge. Not surprisingly it was in
London, but apart from that, there was nothing else about its
website that gave me any ideas. The second hotel was also in
London: the Grosvenor Kensington, 2-10 Harrington Road, Kensington.
Also nothing of interest on its site. And the same for the other
four in the list. The only other information I had was the names
‘Santo’ and ‘Hillman’ who appeared to be camera and lights
suppliers. So I tried ‘Hillman Camera and Lights London’. The only
result that came up was a single listing with a phone number on a
UK directory called ‘www.rentequipment.co.uk’. The listing named
the business as ‘Hillman Audio Visuals’, and then had a phone
number. Since Hillman was obviously supplying to Bill Holland for
whatever he was filming, maybe I'd learn something from speaking to
them? I glanced at the clock on the laptop screen, showing the time
in the UK. It was the middle of the night. There was no point
ringing now. I sat back in my chair, phone in hand, ready to act
but with no direction to act in.

I stared at the fax,
willing it to throw some inspiration at me. The list of hotels was
just a blur of words and numbers. Useless addresses that meant
nothing to me. I thought back to the last list of hotels I had
looked at, the equally useless Formlue 1 hotels Liam and I had
visited two days ago. As if answering my prayer, the fax suddenly
gave me an idea. Bill Holland was obviously working on some type of
film. He was hiring film equipment, and had hotel rooms booked for
particular days, as well as some sort of staff, whether it be
actors or other film crew. He was calling someone constantly who
wasn’t his girlfriend. Could it be a work colleague or partner or
boss? The phone number he had called didn’t seem to be active
anymore; I had called it every hour since Andy read it out to me,
but it always said it was unavailable. I knew it had been used in
Australia, near Wollongong, very recently. Was it possible Bill’s
contact was now working in Australia? Doing the same thing as they
did in the UK, making some sort of movie in hotel rooms? It might
be difficult to find out if this was the case, but what else did I
have planned today? Nothing.

As a plan started to
settle in my mind, I saw a way to narrow down my search, and check
if my suspicions were correct, by matching up two apparently random
things: a random camera and lights supplier with a random hotel
booking. There would be fewer companies hiring equipment than there
would be hotels, so that was the first thing to find. Google was
too much of a hit and miss listing, so I did a yellow pages search
for ‘audio visual equipment hire’ in Sydney. I wasn’t sure how many
businesses to expect, and wasn’t too disappointed to see there were
only 83. Anything less than 100, and I had a chance to speak to all
of them this afternoon if need be. I soon saw there were lots of
businesses I wouldn’t need to call as they hired TVs, DVD players
and other equipment that didn’t include cameras and lights. Some
businesses also had multiple listings, so the actual number of
potentials was even fewer. Maybe only 40.

No time like the
present. I called the first business. And as the phone rang, I
decided I would have to do something quite illegal: impersonate a
policewoman. But it was the quickest and easiest way to get to the
point.

‘
All Star Lights Film
Equipment, Mick speaking.’

‘
Hello, this is
Detective Constable Little from the major fraud squad...’ the title
rolled off my tongue like an old pro... ‘I’m calling about a client
you may have had that we are investigating.’

‘
Yes...’ Mick sounded
worried. Like anyone who suddenly finds themselves talking to the
police, his voice had an edge of guilt, as if he had done something
wrong by just taking the call.

‘
We would like to
know if you have delivered film equipment to any hotels in the
Sydney area in the last three months?’

Mick didn’t hesitate,
responding confidently: ‘No. I’d remember that. For the last three
months, all our clients have been on film sets. No hotels amongst
them.’

‘
Ok, if you are sure,
that’s all the questions I have. Thank you for your time.’ I tried
to sound as authoritative as possible.

I quickly moved on to
the next business on the list. I had a lot of calls to make, and so
there wasn’t time to pause too long in between. The next business
manager I spoke to was less sure of his answer to my question, but
after checking with some colleagues in his office, assured me they
hadn’t delivered to a hotel. After ten more calls, some short and
some painfully drawn out, my energy was starting to wane. But then
I spoke to Chris from Ling Cho Hire. He was totally blasé when I
said I was a detective, as if he got phone calls like that every
day. Then I asked him about a delivery to a hotel.

‘
Oh yeah,’ he said.
‘I’ve done a couple. The Four Seasons in December and the
Intercontinental last month.’

I was so surprised at
his answer that I almost didn’t know what to ask next. ‘Can you
please give me the dates for those bookings?’

Again Chris was calm
as I heard him shuffle pages in a diary, and quietly read out the
bookings. He was concise, but edifying. A dream
informant.

‘
One day only,
delivered at 11:30am to The Four Seasons on the
30
^th
December, picked up at 4:30pm. Another one day only,
delivered at 12:00, to the Intercontinental, picked up again at
4:30’.

I jotted down what he
said as I asked my next question. ‘What was it you
delivered?’

‘
Two cameras, two
tripods, four light stands and four lights. Same both
orders.’

‘
And who was it that
made the order and paid for the equipment?’ I tried to keep the
enthusiasm from my voice, aiming to sound like a bored detective,
not a desperate sister.

Chris hesitated and
sounded fed up. ‘I didn’t get a name. Just a delivery address. Paid
in cash.’

Shit. Not another
dead end. But then Chris kept talking.

‘
Same person called
last week, looking to book in another delivery for today.’ And?
Chris was taking far too long to continue but I refrained from
prompting him in case he lost his train of thought. ‘But we were
booked out. Had a film crew take most of our lights last week for
the next two months.’

‘
What hotel was the
booking for?’ I gave up hiding my enthusiasm.

‘
I can’t remember.
Not sure he said.’ Chris’s laid back manner was too much for
me.

‘
Are you positive?
Just think about it for a moment...’ I urged him.

‘
He might have
mentioned the Quay Grand...or maybe it was the Hyatt. I remember
thinking it was a hassle to deliver to Circular Quay, so... No, it
was Quay Grand. I remember now, because I’ve tried to pull up there
before, and I remember feeling relieved when I worked out we
couldn’t do the job because I couldn’t be bothered going there and
back in one day...’

‘
So you’re sure. It
was the Quay Grand at Circular Quay. What time was the
booking?’

‘
We didn’t get that
far, I couldn’t book it in, remember.’

‘
Ok, you have been
really helpful. Thank you.’

I hung up, and felt
my head spin with what I had heard. There wasn’t time to think
about whether it was a bad idea or not. I had no one to speak to
about it. Mum would just tell me to stay put, and Liam was off
limits today. So I grabbed my bag, and jogged out of the apartment
before I had time to feel scared about the outdoors. I was going to
Circular Quay.

Chapter 29

It wasn’t until I got
onto a train headed for the city that I realised I was doing
something potentially reckless. But I still had Liam’s voice
ringing in my ears, telling me I’d managed to spoil his plan to
track down Sophie at the hospital. I had only been in Sydney for
three days, and we had managed to miss her twice. But now that I
had another lead into who might be after her, there was no point
sitting around the apartment wondering what to do next. It wasn’t
time to be a wimp. It was time to act. Just as I used to deal with
my nerves at a concert by focusing all my energy on my fingers,
ignoring the audience and all the other distractions, I had to
focus my mind on why I was going to Circular Quay. This was for
Sophie. That was all I needed to think about. I had to try to
forget this could be dangerous.

At each station, more
people crowded into my once empty carriage, making me feel
claustrophobic, and more nervous. I kept my head down, trying to
avoid eye contact with anyone, hoping it would make me less
noticeable, even invisible amongst the passengers. The man sitting
next to me was speaking angrily into his mobile phone, the volume
of his voice completely drowning out any other noise in the
carriage. His tone forced me to start planning how I was going to
confront the people who I hoped I’d find at the Quay
Grand.

My instinct told me
not to be angry, not to be confrontational, no matter how angry I
was with what they were doing. I was just one person, there was no
point putting myself in the line of fire with no back up. Should I
pretend to be an innocent bystander who happened to come across
them? Or should I pretend to be someone who knew of them, who was a
friend of a friend? Would these men recognise me? Could they be the
ones that were waiting for me in Newtown? I had to assume it was
possible they might be the same people, just in case they were. A
resolve firmed itself in my mind. I would find out who they were,
what they were doing and whether they were in fact connected to
Bill Henderson in any way. Then I would call the police and let
them deal with what I had found. Once the police had them, I could
keep looking for Sophie without fear of someone else finding her or
me first.

I had hoped the train
would take me all the way to Circular Quay, but as it pulled into
Wynyard station, the computer screen showed the next stop was
Milsons Point, which the map in the carriage showed was on the
other side of the harbour. I would have to get off here and walk
down George St to the quay. No matter where I was in Sydney,
Circular Quay was the one place I could easily find. I had played
piano at the Opera House three times in my life, the last time
being my final dismal competition. That was not a good memory. Mum
and I had had a nice time before the competition started, though.
We walked around the city, and we’d noticed the white sails of the
Opera House poking up between buildings, guiding us towards
Circular Quay and the Harbour Bridge, which seemed to be at the
centre of Sydney. Stepping out onto George St, after a moment of
disorientation, I glimpsed the edge of the bridge and turned left,
joining a sea of men in business suits and Japanese tourists
heading towards the harbour.