I'd seen that garden but while it was huge by inner suburban standards it wasn't a park or a field. Had Anna's grandfather left land to his unborn grandchildren? If he had what had happened to it? Was the Mladenovic interest a simple land grab? Money.

  But surely the family fortunes of a mob boss like Vlado Mladenovic were such that a small land holding in Melbourne, a not very big city at the bottom of the world, would hardly be worth killing for. Unless it wasn't small. Other scenarios bobbed up in my head too. Like legitimacy for his offspring. In the antipodes?

  The sooner I spoke to George Mayhew the better. Anna agreed with me and we planned to drop in on old George first thing on Monday morning. Spring it on him.

  The next day, Sunday, was one of the best days together we'd ever had. It was the closest to happiness I'd ever seen in Anna. We did the chores together, laughing and joking around, Rosa nibbled and nuzzled me while Billy, the new horse, also snuffled at me and chewed a hole in my new jumper. Several times Anna threw her arms around me to rescue me and sometimes kissed me while she did it with no reserves whatsoever.

  She made me climb on board the big racehorse telling me she'd teach me to ride if it was the last thing she ever did.

  `It might be the last thing I ever do,' I said peering down at her. The ground looked a long way down and I was ready to grab a handful of his mane at any moment. But everything went smoothly and at least the animal didn't bolt.

  I stood back and watched as she threw herself onto his back and galloped away, magnificent with her hair flying behind her matching the flowing mane and tail of the big creature. It was funny too as the llamas, not to be outdone galloped alongside until horse and rider outpaced them and left them behind.

  That night we came closer to loving than we ever had before. As we lay back on the sofa after eating, we relaxed into each other, enfolding, embracing and caressing each other without the reserves that had held us back before. From either of us. The sex that followed was so much better as a result that we were left breathless. Not only by the exertion which was considerable but by the degree of sharing that surprised both of us. I knew I loved Anna but I think I realised that night that I hadn't ever really loved anyone before. Not like that.

  Afterwards we lay staring into each other's faces, our eyes wide and silly smiles on our faces. It was magical.

  14

  We woke early and raced through the chores together. The drive to the city was likely to take at least three hours with peak hour traffic to content with. Plus, I needed to change into something that didn't make old George too fretful. We wanted to get to George Mayhew's office early before he made plans for the day.

  I ran up the three flights to my flat still feeling the results of Thursday night's free-fall down the mountain but not enough to worry me. What did was that my flat had been trashed. My door was still locked too. Whoever did it had opened the door without smashing the lock or triggering the alarm system either for the building or my apartment.

  My building had security ID entry only and I paid a premium for it. Time for the police. I rang down to Anna to say I'd be delayed and she was to stay in her car with the doors locked and phone ready to speed dial triple zero if anyone came near her.

  I didn't touch anything as I waited but I did call the security firm. They'd had no alarms go off since Thursday, no sir.

  `Well, you fucking should have. I’ve got a trashed flat and I pay a fortune to you to stop that happening. If I've lost anything important, anything, you're up for it. Now get you arses over here and find out how someone got in here without you knowing…Yes the alarm was set.'

  Next I called the building management. They were amazed, they said. No one should be able to get past the entry security.

  `Well, they fucking did. So how? I want a full report and you'll be held responsible for every last bit of damage.'

  There was plenty too. My furniture was ripped apart, the stuffing dragged out and thrown around. The walls were bashed in, like I'd hide stuff behind the plaster. Everything in the kitchen and bathroom was pulled out and strewn around and my bedroom looked like a hurricane had hit it.

  There was some malicious stuff too. Like the bathroom mirror and my sound equipment were smashed. My DVDs were broken into small pieces. You'd need a hammer to do that so they must have brought it with them. Premeditated spite.

  I was on my knees picking up the remnants of my music collection, not extensive but carefully chosen, when I heard steps at the door. I was on my feet in a heartbeat ready for action with a knife from the kitchen.

  A man backed quickly away, hands in front of his face.

  `No, don't hurt me, I…oh my God.'

  `Chris?' It was my neighbour. We didn't know each other well but had the occasional drink together, to listen to music usually.

  `What happened? When did…I thought you were away?'

  `I was. Just came to get changed and found…well you see. Did you hear anything?'

  `No, but I've been out a fair bit lately. The alarm didn't go off then?'

  `No and they got past security too.'

  `Jesus. Then none of us are safe. What have they taken, do you know? Have you called the police? You have to. We can't have this kind of thing happening here. We’re supposed to be safe here. That's why I chose this place.'

  Chris's bony face was paler than usual and his tick was very apparent. He was a bit of a nervous Nelly and even when mildly anxious he sweated terribly and his head jerked. Right now he was dripping wet and he was almost flipping his head past his shoulder.

  `Don't worry too much, Chris, it's me they're after. Journalist's hazard. I don't think merchant bankers attract the same sort of people.'

  `No, I suppose not,' he said, but he didn't sound convinced.

  We both swung around as footsteps approached down the corridor. Then someone raced in and Anna threw herself at me. Hands reached out to grab her as two uniformed police officers followed her in.

  `It's all right. She's with me,' I told them.

  `What the…my God,' shrieked Anna fuelling my sense of déjà vu.

  She stood in the middle of the chaos, her face white. Not surprising as this had happened to her only six months ago and that had led to bloodshed. She looked up into my face and started shaking. Not much, but it showed she wasn't truly over it.

  `Who?' she whispered. `Mlad—'

  I put a finger to my lips. I didn't want to throw any names around, at least not yet. I did want the police to be seen here, the building to be secured and my security alarm people to be very, very eager to please. A police presence might make whoever broke in think a bit before coming back here.

  Anna grabbed my arm hard and then pulled my head down. `What about my place? What if they've gone there? I have to go, now.'

  I waved at the cops. `I'll be right with you,' and pulled her into the bedroom.

  She took one wild-eyed look and tried to shake my hand off. `No Harry I've got to get back.'

  `And do what,' I hissed. `By yourself? No, I'll come with you but call the police now and get them to go up there and check the place out. Nobody will be there. They're after me, not you. They don't know we've sprung them so—'

  `Pshaw,' she exclaimed. `Of course they do. They know who you are. They know you tell me everything, and I don't believe for one minute that Michael believes you're as stupid as you looked on Thursday night. That's why they've done this. I have to get back.'

  `Can I just have a quick word with the police while you call that Inspector whatsit in Marysville.'

  `All right,' she snapped, tapping impatiently at her phone, `but be quick.'

  `And George Mayhew?'

  `Forget it,' she snapped.

  I also told them I had no idea why this would have happened. I didn't mention the attacks in Kashmir or Thursday's episode. They asked me to submit a list of what was missing but weren't very reassuring about the chances of finding the culprit. I made Anna drop by my office to pick up my office computer and the memory sticks I kept there but I badly wanted my laptop and the sticks that were at the bottom of the gorge. On the way I asked her how hard it would be to follow the hiking path to where my car might be.

  `Too bloody hard. It's the middle of winter, Harry. It's not easy even in summer.'

  `What about the Rangers? I mean they go in after lost people all the time. They'd know how to do it and I could just follow them. Please. I need that computer.'

  `I'll call Blair Revine, he's in charge. He'll decide whether it's okay or not. Won't that one do?' She pointed to the back seat.

  `It's clunky, hasn't got all the info or the search programs I need. And I want those sticks.'

  There was no one at the farm when we drove through the gate. But there was a card stuck in the door saying the police had been and found nothing suspicious.

  `I told you. It's me…' But she was gone, racing for the UTV and off to the paddocks. After losing Dixie to human murderers she didn't trust the police to check her animals and I agreed with her. I walked around to the back of the house and watched her disappear up to the back paddocks.

  I opened the back door but I was edgy, I grabbed a large spanner and flung open the door into the living area. It crashed back and I stepped inside and slid along the wall as I seen countless TV cops do. I checked the spare room, then the rest of the house. It was empty. I checked that the external doors were locked to make sure it stayed that way and stoked the fire.

  I set up the big computer and fed in the spare memory sticks from the office. Then I transferred everything from Beverley that was on my phone onto them. Next I dug around in Anna's desk for extra spare sticks. She only had two. I'd have to educate her about that. I used one of those too. Then I opened a framed photograph of Dixie and the llamas, taped the stick to the back of it, and closed it again.

  I spent the next half an hour organising all Beverley's stuff. We didn't have proof of who Michael Bentford really was but it was clear he was Vlado's son and bent on trouble. My major issue now was his long dead uncle Milos and whether it was something he had or hadn't done that was at the heart of this. It must be something big to bring a crime Don's eldest son to Australia and try three times to kill a journalist.

  Time to get onto my nerdy researcher, Patrick. He should have come up with something via the Securities Commission by now. I called. He didn't pick up his mobile so I rang his office number. A young woman answered after the tenth ring. I hadn't heard her voice before so I introduced myself. She didn't say anything more but I heard voices in the background.

  `Is something wrong?' I asked, foreboding straining my voice.

  `I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm allowed to speak to you.' Her voice ended with a sob.

  Then a man's voice barked down the line. `Who is this?'

  I held the phone away from my ear. `Who's asking?'

  `This is Sergeant North, Victoria Police. What is your connection to Mr Hanlon?'

  `He was doing a job for me. What's happening? Has something happened to Patrick?' The foreboding grew into dread.

  `I'm afraid Mr Hanlon has…er…died.'

  `Died?'

  `Unfortunately his assistant found his body this morning when she came to work. I can't tell you any more than that at this stage of our investigation. You are…'

  `Harry Nichols. How…how did he die?' Panic cranked my voice up an octave. `An accident, was it?' Please let it be an accident.

  `Not exactly.'

  `Then what exactly?' I squeaked. `Has someone killed him?'

  `Why would you think that Mr Nichols?'

  `Because he's a fit young man, Sergeant, and…' I'd gone too far and I paid for it.

  `Would you have some other reason as to why you think Mr Hanlon might have been the victim of foul play, Mr Nichols? Could I ask you what the job was that he was doing for you?'

  I don't know where they learn to be so pompous but this one had it down pat.

  `It wasn't much, just some online research. I'm a journalist and Patrick…' I almost choked. `Patrick often did small jobs for me.' And now one of them had killed him.

  The Sergeant wanted to know exactly what Patrick was working on. Could I come to the police station to answer some questions please? Of course, but I was in the country and it would be difficult. It would too, the sooner I got wheels the better. I agreed to meet him but didn't make a time.

  I had to go back to town anyway. There was the break-in at my apartment, George Mayhew and now the murder of my friend made it urgent. It was bad enough with me being attacked but killing Patrick was a step too far. I had to confront Michael Bentford.

  15

  I heard Anna outside just as my phone rang again. It was Beverley. Her niece had spoken to Bentford's mother's sister. She remembered the previous name of her brother-in-law before he changed it as being some long, vulgar Balkan name.

  `She was disgusted, my niece said about this…dago…daring to woo her sister.' Beverley laughed. `I think Joanne was a bit horrified by the sister's snobbery but you can see what the family thought. She warned Julia he was only after her name, but Julia wouldn't have it. He was very handsome, she said. I think he probably was after respectability for his children mainly, though. I mean did you see the photo of his father and uncle in Nazi uniforms. That would have been known in his own country. And the old man, Bogdan, was a well-known criminal, too. I don't know what happened to the uncle, Milos?'

  I thanked her and rang off. Milos was a crook too and now the man investigating his estate was dead. Murdered. What had Patrick uncovered that had cost him his life? Tears pricked my eyes and my guts twisted as I thought about the gentle giant of a young man, with a full red beard and curly red hair who my curiosity had got killed.

  I looked up as Anna walked in shedding her coat as she headed straight for the fridge.

  `No food? What have you been doing…what's happened Harry? You're white as a sheet.'

  I had to clear my throat before I could speak. `Someone's been killed.'

  She stared at me. `Who?'

  `A friend. He was doing some work for me. I rang and the police were there. He…was murdered.'

  She walked to a chair and sat down without taking her eyes off me. `Was it related?'

  I swallowed. `I don't know. Maybe. The police want me to go down there. And I need to. I have to see what he found out, if anything.'

  `Go. Take my car. Now.'

  `I can't leave you here alone, Anna. If it is related, you're at risk too.'

  `Why? You said it's you they're after, not me.'

  `He was looking up the estate of your grandfather, Mladenovic.'

  She started pacing around the room, then swung around to face me. `Then they need me alive. They want to get rid of you because you're a sticky beak and might find out something. But they need me. Without you. So go. I'll be fine. I'll get out my gun and keep Lara close. Just come back as soon as you can. I'll get Blair and we'll go and find your car while you're gone.'

  She handed me her keys and bundled me out the door. As I left I shouted over my shoulder.

  `Don't call George Mayhew. If they think we suspect anything he could be next.'

  Two hours later I pulled up outside the Richmond police station in Bridge Road. It was only two blocks from the cramped, dingy office Patrick called his castle. He was a computer nerd with a talent for dissecting the convoluted and dense documents of government authorities. I thought it wise to check in with the police before trying to dig around in that castle.

  The police almost certainly still had it staked out anyway, and the last thing I needed was to get in the way of the law. After the shellacking Anna and I got over the uproar at her place last summer, I needed to keep out of their way. I asked a bored policewoman on the desk for Sergeant North.

  Without looking up she said, `He's very busy, who wants him?' She shifted her gum to the other side of her mouth.

  `Get over yourself, Simone, and get rid of the fucking gum,' roared a stocky grey-haired man. The woman straightened so fast she knocked a paper tray onto the floor. He turned to me. `Sheesh,' he said. `This is what it's got to. Now, who are you and why do you want me?'

  `Harry Nichols, and I believe you want me.'

  He looked at me with narrowed eyes, accusingly. `You said you were in the country.'

  `You said it was important.'

  We stood facing each other like two dogs. Simone grinned.

  `Get that look off your face, Constable, and get on with it. Follow me, Nichols.'

  I followed him through the old cop shop, with its newly modernised insides, cheap veneers and bright colours did their best to disguise the lovely old building. I nodded at passing uniforms who ignored me, until we were settled in a small bare interview room with three chairs and a long table. I'd been in many police stations all over the world and they all had the same smell. Fear. Urine, sweat, old clothes, coffee, all of which combined to defy even the most overarching antiseptic. All were swamped by the built-in memories of too many tragedies.

  `What do you want to know?' I asked.

  He checked his notes. `You said he was doing a job for you. What was that?'

  `He was checking out an old business. It doesn't exist anymore.'

  `How old?'

  `1990.'

  `That is old. What was the name of the business, and why were you interested?'

  `I think its name was Madden Industries or Corporation or something. That's what I hired Patrick to find out. He is, was, a whiz at that stuff. I'm an investigative journalist. I look for obscure bits and pieces to see if they add up to anything, or if they help me understand other things.'

  `Yes, I've heard of you.'

  I looked at him sideways. `Really, I'm surprised.'

  `Yeah, the R.S. Holdings scandal. You were the one who brought them down.'

  `No that was…' I named Geraldine's network boss, Jerry Carney. `I was just—'

  `I followed the case, Mr Nichols.'

 

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