`Right.'

  `Did the job you hired Patrick Hanlon for have anything to do with that?' I shook my head. `You're sure? I mean those were some really bad dudes and if they knew you and Mr Hanlon were still digging around in those matters…well, you might have stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest, mightn't you?'

  `But all the main characters have been arrested and charged. I don't know of anything else we could be looking for. So no, it wasn't connected to that case.'

  `Would you like to tell me what case it was connected to, Mr Nichols?'

  `I told you. It was about a company that dates back before 1990 that may have some undisclosed property that a friend of mine is interested in.'

  That much was true enough. I certainly wasn't going to mention the Mladenovic angle. But North wasn't finished.

  `Do you believe this obscure and defunct company could be enough to get a man murdered, Mr Nichols? Think carefully, because if the enquires Mr Hanlon pursued on your behalf got him killed, what makes you think you might not be next?'

  `But I wasn't Patrick's only client. There must have been heaps of other jobs he had on. Why would mine be suspicious?'

  `I didn't say it was. It's just that you are a journalist with a history of delving into…ah…sensitive matters and have been in the line of deadly fire in the past. It makes whatever you do a bit more interesting to us. You do see that, don't you?'

  `I suppose so, but not everything I do is like that, I assure you. Most of my investigations are very tame.'

  I prayed he hadn't checked with the network about Kashmir. I also really hoped he hadn't coordinated with the Southbank police and heard about the break-in. He had. Apparently everything was on a central database now. Just pull up someone's name and all their sins for the last twelve years blossom before your eyes.

  `But your flat got broken into just yesterday didn't it? That doesn't sound too tame to me.'

  I eyeballed him. `How many other flats in this city got trashed over the weekend, Sergeant? Why is mine any more or less sinister than any other? I was away for the weekend. I came back to find I'd been burgled. I don't even know what's missing because my girlfriend freaked out and I had to take her home. As you know so much about me you must know she was traumatised by the R.M. Holdings case and still is. I will investigate what, if anything, is missing when I leave here. Is that all?'

  I stood up but he waved me down again.

  `You're right. Dozens of flats were probably trashed but not many on the third floor of a very well protected apartment building. I'm just saying, if you and Mr Hanlon have unearthed something nasty, be very careful. We haven’t found anything that might explain why he was killed but if you do, I suggest you bring it to us to look after. I don't want to be scraping your corpse off the floor.'

  That set me back. I didn't even know how Patrick had died. I gritted my teeth and swallowed hard. `Can you tell me how…?'

  `He was tortured for a long time then his throat was cut. It was a bad death. A mob death. You don't know anyone like that, do you?'

  I was speechless and could only shake my head as the rage inside me grew to incandescent levels. I managed to stifle it and asked the Sergeant if they had taken possession of Patrick's computer and other office records. They had but they were not about to release any of it to me. It was evidence, the sergeant said. I asked if he needed me anymore. He didn’t but told me to come back to them if I thought of anything that might help. I took the sergeant's card and his warning and headed for the car.

  I was seething. Bentford would pay for this. First, I had to find out whether Patrick had found anything, and where he'd been looking. All I'd told him to do was to find anything he could on Milos Mladenovic’s business affairs. A routine search through official documents that was completely open and legitimate.

  So what on earth had alerted Bentford or his mates that it was even happening. Only Patrick and I knew. That was my second move. There was a mole amongst my workmates. One who'd almost got me killed and now…Had I told anyone there about calling on Patrick? I suppose a few people might have known about him. I'd used him before but I was sure I hadn't mentioned this search and I sure as hell hadn't told anyone about the Mladenovic connection.

  I slapped my head. My personal computer. The one at the bottom of the gorge. Mladenovic was in that, but had I put Patrick's name in there? I couldn't remember but I had left the computer on my desk after getting back from Kashmir. So who was it?

  16

  As I drove around to Patrick's office I wracked my brains trying to remember what I'd last worked on with him and who might have been involved in whatever that was. It had to be someone who was around before the R.S. uproar six months ago. I had to have that laptop. I rang Anna.

  She picked up straight away. `What happened? What have you found out?'

  She went on to say she'd organised for Blair Revine, the mountain rescue guy to take a team and find my car with its precious cargo of computer and memory sticks. I heaved a huge sigh of relief.

  `Are you all right? Anyway they should be back soon. Can I call you, and when will you bring my car back?'

  `Tonight.'

  There was nothing more I could do about anything down here. Patrick's office was locked down by the police and I didn't know when, if ever, I could access his records. But I did have to do that. That's when I panicked. The girl at the office when I first rang. I raced back into the station calling for North. I stamped up and down while the lethargic policewoman who seemed to have no sense of urgency at all fiddled about.

  Eventually he turned up. `Thought of something, have you?' he asked.

  `When I rang first rang Patrick's office I spoke to a young woman. Before I spoke to you. I think she should be protected. If whoever killed Patrick thinks she might know what he was doing she…'

  He nodded and patted my arm. `Yes, Mr Nichols, we are aware of that and she is being taken care of. Sure there's nothing else?'

  I shook my head, thanked him and left. I quickly checked out my apartment but until I got those records from my car I had no handle on who was betraying me and had got Patrick Hanlon killed. What had been confirmed was that Michael Bentford and his mobster old man were very, very dangerous. They had also confirmed that the entire thing had something to do with Anna's grandfather, Milos Mladenovic.

  As I drove back to the farm I thanked David Bale. Rapist and wannabe hit man he may be, but he was the one who pointed me towards the murderous Mladenovics.

  I checked in again with my insurance company, told them where the car was and booked a time and place as near as possible to Marysville to pick up my hire car. Could they deliver it? No, but I could get it in Croydon only sixty-five kilometres away. Terrific, I said. I got a charge out of the fact that they'd have to send an assessor down the mountain to find the bloody wreck. I'd make sure Blair wasn't free to help, either.

  It was dark when I drove through the gate. I breathed out when I saw the lights on and smoke curling from the chimney. At least Anna was safe. No strange cars sat outside the house and when I walked in there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. It restored something in my soul that I'd lost on hearing about Patrick's death.

  Anna waved a spoon at me but when I tried to hug her she ducked, waving at the cooking pot. My reassurance that there was still humanity in the world would have to wait, I guess. We sat down to one of her staples, spaghetti with a meat sauce. She wasn't the best cook around, grills and salads being her other strong suits, but this was great.

  She pointed at the computer and a small plastic bag of other stuff sitting on the table.

  `I hope it's important. Blair said your car was a mess, about half its proper size he said. It was terribly hard getting anything out and he expects very special treatment for doing it.' I looked up. `Large donation to the Mountain Rescue Association and some volunteering next time anyone gets lost.'

  `Happy to, and I'll dance with him at the next country ball too. If he'll have me.'

  I opened the computer before realising the battery must be flat. Anna waved the charger. `Don't say I don't look after you.'

  I looked up Patrick and found that the last time I hired him was nearly a year ago. It was to find out whether a group of companies was connected to R.S. Holdings. There was also a search for some other entities that belonged to various other countries, mostly in South America. Then something caught my eye. He'd found two Serbian companies that were interesting.

  I had never noticed those. Serbia wasn't involved with R.S. Holdings or any of its partners or even links. I'd certainly never followed up on them. But had he remembered them now? What if Patrick had remembered that and when I got him to search for Mladenovic now, went back to his old search? Was it me who'd got him killed?

  No. All I knew about Milos Mladenovic back then was that his daughters were part of R.S. Holdings. I knew nothing else about the Mladenovics or Anna back then either. Patrick might not have even gone back to the Serbian stuff. It may have been just trying to access the Mladenovic details that triggered Bentford.

  Because Bentford was involved in me going off the road, the killer had to be someone who knew about my connection with both Patrick and Anna. Anna was easy because of all the publicity when R.S. was going down, but Patrick? Greg could easily have blabbed about me going to Anna's that night and Bentford also knew where she lived so he could have sent someone to check out the road. But neither of them knew about Patrick.

  My usual research assistants were three women, all friends. None had been to Kashmir with me so didn't know about the attacks there. None were involved in any of the meetings when we got back. I couldn't remember if any of them knew about Patrick at all, and not in the last year or more. Certainly Greg didn't about anything recent.

  But it looked like someone did. Was it simply opportunistic spying that identified Patrick? Or was one of my friends not the friend I thought she was. Or was it someone from my wider bunch of colleagues? But which one? It had to be someone who spoke to Greg. I hadn't advertised that I was heading for the hills last Thursday.

  Then again was I simply being paranoid? Because I was in the frame for being knocked off didn't necessarily mean that Patrick was. As I said to the cop, he had other clients. But how many of them were mixed up with mobsters and crooks? Probably none. I was pondering all this when suddenly Anna's face was right in front of me.

  `Hello, earth calling,' she said laughing.

  I shook my head. I'd stick with my paranoia. `Sorry, I'm trying to work out who could be feeding information to bloody Bentford. Oh and can you drive me down to Croydon tomorrow. My insurance company will have a hire car for me for two weeks.'

  `You look really sad, Harry. Was this guy who got killed close?'

  `Not really but he was a nice guy. He didn't deserve what those bastards did to him, and no, I'm not telling you what that was.'

  `So are you any closer to what's behind this?'

  `Well, Patrick's death makes it a bit clearer which I'm sure is not what they intended. Remember I said I thought your grandfather's business is somehow involved? Well, Patrick was looking that up for me. I wasn't his only client, I guess, but if you add up the attacks on me in Kashmir, last Thursday's effort and my flat, it looks very suspicious. Add to that—' I tapped my computer—`Patrick found something nearly a year ago about something to do with Serbia. That was part of my research into R.S. I didn't notice it then but now…The Mladenovics are Serbian and that includes Bentford even if he was born in England. Something's rotten, Anna, very, very rotten.'

  `My relatives do seem to be, don't they?'

  `Nothing to do with you. You can't choose your family.'

  Next morning, we dropped into Blair Revine's farm on the way down to Croydon to pick up my hire car. I told Anna I just wanted to thank him, but I really wanted to warn him that she might be in some danger and could he keep an eye out while I was away for the next few days. I said she'd be furious so I asked him not to let on. The old wink, wink between men. He grinned and saluted. I left a little happier.

  The hire car was better than any car I'd ever had. Great airbags too I bet. I hoped Bentford and his deadly team would leave it alone. My first call was to Patrick's office. The police had moved on but had left some crime scene tape in place. I went around the back and crawled through a window. The place had been upended like my flat but it stank of Patrick's terror.

  My stomach rose up my throat threatening to choke me and my head pounded with rage. This quiet, gentle man had been brutalised by vicious criminals and for what? That's what I was looking for. The police had his computer and records from his files. But it was unlikely they, or crooks like Bentford and his mates, would know where Patrick would hide anything really critical. If he'd found something like that, I knew where to look.

  Half an hour later I found it. The thing that Patrick had died for. He must have realised that what he'd found was at least important so he'd put it where he knew I'd look. Tears sprang to my eyes as I realised what he'd endured to keep that stuff safe for me and vowed I'd exact a terrible revenge on whoever did this.

  Whether he had copies and had surrendered those before they killed him, or whether he didn't believe they'd kill him, I'd never know. All I knew was that I now had a memory stick that could explain at least some of what was happening. I also knew that Bentford would kill me if he knew. But he wouldn't.

  For a start he didn't know what car I was driving. He wouldn't know that I had my old computer back. He wouldn't know I suspected a workmate and was headed straight for the office to dig him, or her, out. I was sick of people getting away with killing and trying to kill people. Time for payback.

  I climbed back out the window and drove back to the office. But before I went in I plugged Patrick's stick into my laptop. If he had reported anything to anyone at the network, I had them. The name of who set me up and got Patrick killed was my first priority. The rest could wait. A name jumped out at me and I almost vomited. My friend was not my friend. I sat back in my seat, thinking. This person would pay for Patrick's death and for my terror as I'd crashed down a mountain in the cold and dark.

  17

  I made a point of happily greeting everyone I saw who knew me and made my way to Greg's office. His secretary was there but he wasn't. She smiled at me.

  `You're looking good, Harry. The weekend away did you good then?'

  `Yes, really great weekend. Boss in?'

  `No, he's in a meeting. Can I help you?'

  Everything was going well so far. `No, I'll wait. Will he be long, do you think?'

  `Shouldn't be, it's nearly lunchtime and you know how he likes his food.' She laughed. I sat down on the visitor’s chair and watched her. She looked up from her screen and smiled again.

  `You remember a bloke called Patrick Hanlon, Wendy?'

  There it was, the first blink.

  `Can't say I do. Should I?'

  `No, I guess not. A big, red-haired fellow, huge beard.'

  `No. I think I'd remember someone like that. Why?' she asked.

  `Just that he seems to know you. I thought you might have heard from him. I'm trying to get in touch with him.'

  Not just a blink but several twitches and her hands trembled. Very slightly but—Wendy was lying to me.

  `I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.'

  She didn't make eye contact and her face was pale. She jumped up and strode into Greg's office pulling the door shut behind her. Wendy Lorimer, with whom I'd sat in the local pub and eaten and drunk with so often over many years, my friend's secretary, had betrayed me and got Patrick killed. I was sure of it. Whether she knew the outcomes of her betrayal I didn't know and I didn't care. Let others find that out. Greg turned up a few minutes later and I suggested we all go for lunch at the pub. Wendy too.

  She didn't want to come but with our urging finally agreed. As we sat down, I bought drinks all round, almost shoving a drink into her hand.

  `Come on, Wendy, let's drink to Patrick.'

  `But—'

  `Yes, it's terrible, isn't it Wendy?' said Greg. `Poor Patrick. And he called only a couple of days ago looking for you, Harry. You had him doing some job or other, right? Do you remember what he said, Wen?'

  She muttered something and buried her face in her drink. I sat back and watched her. She didn't look up.

  `And now he's dead,’ said Greg. `Murdered. I can't believe it. Who on earth would murder Patrick?'

  `Yeah. He was a good man. Conscientious, competent, kind. The police think it was because of something he was working on,' I said, still watching Wendy.

  `You've spoken to them?’ asked Greg.

  `Yes. Because they found my name in his computer they wondered whether it was to do with that.'

  `Do you think it was?'

  `Don't know. I haven't got any record of what he found or didn't find. The police haven't either but they said he was tortured for hours before they cut his throat.'

  Wendy gasped and dropped her glass. Greg frowned at me then reached out and helped her mop up her spilled drink.

  `It's okay, Wendy. I know it's horrible. Harry, do you mind sparing us the details?'

  `Sorry. The police think he handed over whatever he discovered to his killers but I know Patrick had some really good hiding places. The killers might have thought they had everything but if they killed him too soon, they'd have missed them.'

  Wendy glanced up at me, her eyes wide and frightened, then quickly looked away.

  `Now, food anyone?' said Greg. `I'll take orders.'

  Wendy stretched a smile across her teeth and shook her head, as I ordered a steak. Greg went off to order at the bar. I leaned towards Wendy.

  `Why?'

  `I don't know what you mean.'

  `Oh, for fuck's sake, Wendy. Do you think I’m totally stupid? I've got you on Patrick's USB. The one your murdering mates didn't get. Whether you knew it or not you got him killed. You nearly got me killed too. Did you know that? You know, I don't think you do know just how deadly these bastards are. Well, guess what, according to the law, ignorance is not an excuse. You bitch. Now tell me, why are you holding hands with people who cut your friend's throats?'

 

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