WHERE THEY FALL, page 20
But it wasn’t his alarm. Someone was calling.
He reached over to the flimsy nightstand and grabbed his phone.
“Oh shit,” he said. “It’s Holland.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Inspector Holland had arrived at his office at 8:45.
He’d been up since six. His contact at Prime Technologies had called via his burner phone, informing him that the lead investor’s compliance representative was in the country. Victor. He wanted to meet. He had things that needed to be discussed. Concerns. His employers needed accountability. They paid Holland handsomely for the past three years for that accountability. Victor, being in the country, requesting a meeting, raised red flags. Something frightened Holland about that. Chung was supposed to take care of all communication. That’s what they paid her for. Her warm smile and interpersonal skills were the reason they recruited her. Her ruthless lack of concern for human wellbeing had been a bonus. Victor demanded to meet with Holland and Alexandra Chung.
Holland drove to work early with an anxious hum in his belly. The minute he got to his office, he knew someone had been there. They had left drawers open. Piles of paperwork littered the carpet. Holland had raced around his desk to grab his laptop to find the charging cord alone on the floor.
His heart rate climbed. Nervousness bubbled in the pits of his gut. He knew his computer was password protected, as were the files inside, but given what those files contained, he understood how critical this was.
“I’m the Inspector,” he said aloud as he marched out of his office towards the IT department at the back of the building. “No one fucks with me!”
Holland forced the door open to the server room and pulled up the CCTV footage of the facility. No cameras existed on the second floor, but two cameras aimed at the front of the building, one on the stairwell and one directly over the front counter in the foyer. Holland grabbed the mouse, logged into the software, and scanned through the footage at triple speed. He changed the footage to real time anytime someone appeared in the foyer. A young couple, covered in tattoos. A middle-aged man with a crying child. An old lady.
He paused the footage as two people entered the foyer.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
His two lead detectives approached the counter. Blake looked like she’d been to war. Grazing covered much of her face. Her right arm hung suspended in a sling. Holland watched an interaction take place at the front counter as he felt his face redden. His two key detectives left the screen, returning seven minutes later as they rushed down the stairwell and raced across the foyer. Holland paused the footage.
“Motherfuckers!”
The footage was grainy, but Holland saw it. He could make out the clunky rectangular shape of his laptop tucked under Cole’s sweater. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Anxious nausea replaced his craving for a morning coffee. Surely this isn’t what Prime Technologies wanted to talk about? He had taken them off the case. He had done his part. What more could he do?
He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and scrolled through recent calls. He feared the worst. Holland knew how tech savvy Blake was. She could get her way through most firewalls. His entire world would crumble around him if she found her way into those files.
“It’s me or them.”
He dialled Cameron Cole. The phone rang out. He dialled Rachael Blake. Her phone was off.
“Shit!”
Prime had briefed Holland on this situation, in the unlikelihood that it may occur. He whispered foul-mouthed insults to Superintendent McArthur for assigning Cole to the case. He didn’t know Prime had taken Lachlan Harvey when the case first surfaced. By the time Chung updated him on their most recent addition to the team, Cole and Blake had already begun digging. Holland tried to justify it. Prime should have told him sooner.
“Shit!”
Holland had access to databases that most of the Police Department didn’t. That didn’t mean he could locate his two Major Crimes detectives at the click of a button. But he knew someone who could. Holland opened up his leather briefcase—a tenth wedding anniversary gift from his wife—and lifted the bottom, revealing a concealed compartment. He pulled out a thin, black smartphone, a low-end brand he had never heard of. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the conversation. Holland had failed. He had caused a security breach, a threat to the entire operation. He knew that there would only be one way to eliminate that threat. Prime needed to get rid of Cameron Cole and Rachael Blake.
Holland’s burner phone had two numbers saved on it. Alexandra Chung and Victor. He selected Victor’s number and pressed dial. His heart rate hammered. He closed the door to his office at the same time Victor answered.
“I thought we were meeting tomorrow,” Victor said through the phone. “I was not expecting a premature phone call.”
Holland sighed. “We have a problem.”
“Another one?”
“Yes, it’s two of my detectives. They have disobeyed orders. I think they’re onto us.”
“Is this Cameron Cole?”
Holland stopped pacing for a moment. “Yes. How did you know?”
“He’s the concern we have already flagged. Your detective has been sticking his nose into things he shouldn’t. He emailed the shell company contact with Lachlan Harvey as the subject heading.”
“Shit!”
“Shit indeed, Jasper.”
Victor had never used Holland’s first name.
“Well, it might be worse than you thought. I believe they’ve got my laptop. It’s protected, but it has sensitive information about Project Alpha saved on it.”
Victor paused. The silence swallowed Holland’s office as it shrunk around him.
“Why does it have sensitive information on it, Jasper?”
Holland couldn’t be honest. He had it there to use against Alpha Numerix and Prime Technologies if needed. He kept the information as a bartering tool if push came to shove. Now that push had backfired.
“Complacency,” he lied. “I’ve just been complacent.”
“We have not paid you to be complacent. We’ve paid you to protect the project. This is bad.”
“I’m well aware of how bad this is, hence my call. We need to find Cole and Blake. We need to stop them.”
“Fine. We will take care of it. We can track them easily enough.”
“What are you going to do with them?”
“Don’t you worry, Inspector. You’ve made enough of a mess. I’m going to make sure we clean it up.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should forget Cameron Cole and Rachael Blake ever existed…”
THIRTY-FIVE
Cole didn’t take long to throw his jacket back on and tighten his shoelaces.
Groggy, but reeling from the fear of Holland’s phone call, the two detectives left their room and pulled the door shut behind them. Blake limped into the parking lot, her gravel rash making it difficult to move. Cole dived into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition over. The Ford Ranger rumbled to life, the exhaust bellowing a plume of diesel smoke into the mid-morning air.
Holland called Cole’s phone again. Twice. Then Cole’s phone buzzed with a text message alert.
Where the hell are you two?
“Ignore him,” Blake warned. “He clearly knows by now that we’ve been to his office.”
“Clearly. I can sense how pissed he is just from those six words in the message. Let’s head to Elizabeth and stake out the PO Box. Fuck Holland. He’s the one in deep shit. Not us. How do you feel?”
“I fell like shit, Cam. I feel like I should be resting at home in bed, not on some wild goose chase in South Australia.”
Cole placed his hand on Rachael Blake’s shoulder. “Are you going to manage? I can do this alone.”
She gave him a playful slap on the chest. “Don’t be stupid. Someone needs to keep you on a leash.”
Despite the forced self-assurance, Cole could see the pain and fatigue in Blake’s eyes. She was struggling. Self-reproach distressed him for bringing her along. But Blake was stubborn. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Another text message pinged through from Holland:
Walk away! For your own good, don’t pursue this!
“Jesus,” Cole said, handing his phone to Blake. “He’s bloody threatening us now.”
“Well, that’s confession if I’ve ever seen it,” Blake said, pressing the buttons on either side of Cole’s iPhone to take a screenshot. “We’re in too deep now. Let’s get it done.”
“Okay, Google Maps says it’s thirty minutes from here. That will get us there just after eleven. You want anything on the way? Coffee? Something to eat.”
Blake nodded. “I’m starving. Can we get a smoothie from somewhere? Have they got Boost Juice here in Adelaide?”
Cole scoffed. “You’re starving and you want a flavoured drink?”
“It’s not a flavoured drink, Cam. It’s a meal. It’s blended with fruit and yogurt. And they taste delicious.”
“You can have your fruit and yogurt. I want a hash brown.”
“Cam, fast food is going to kill you.”
“Not if Holland does it first.”
“It’s not funny.” Rachael Blake clenched her teeth. “How can you make jokes right now? We have literally broken every rule in the book and you're joking about it.”
Cole shrugged.
“When we’re back home, I’m writing a meal plan for you and Jenny.”
Cole’s expression changed at the mention of his daughter’s name. His eyes narrowed. His smile dissipated. Blake sensed it right away. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I just hope we haven’t fucked our careers by turning on Holland. I hope we did the right thing.”
“Hey,” Blake said, placing her hand on Cole’s. “Don’t start doubting yourself now. That’s my job. You convinced me we’ve done the right thing. Trust your gut. We are doing the right thing. We’re a stone’s throw away from getting Harvey back and when we do, we will be the heroes. That’s what you’ve been telling me.”
Cole smiled at his best friend, his confidante, his partner. “You right, Rach. Let’s blow the lid off this shit.” He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main arterial road that cut through the affluent eastern suburbs. “Boost Juice, here we come.”
After a Mango Magic smoothie, two hash browns and a double shot latte, Cole almost forgot he had only had two hours’ sleep. Traffic had been favourable as they made their way north. School holidays might have had something to do with it, but they seemed to be greeted with a green light every time they approached a set of traffic lights.
Blake continued reading through Holland’s saved emails and files. She took notes where necessary and photographed each email with her phone.
“They consistently use letters for names,” Blake said. “Holland met with AC and someone referred to as V several times over the past year. Holland has covered up several infringements by the looks. ASIC and the ATO have flagged Alpha Numerix several times. Holland has closed the cases. Cam, he’s been covering up for them for years.”
“I wonder how deep this web of lies goes,” Cole said. “I wonder how many cops are in on it.”
The invasive vibrations of Cole’s iPhone reverberating in the centre console stopped their conversation in its tracks. Cole looked at the screen. Jonesy—his long-time friend from the Federal Police Force, based in Canberra, finally returned his calls.
“Man, am I happy to see you calling back?”
“Cameron-bloody-Cole,” a voice crackled through the line, deep and thick with an east-coast twang.
“Mate, I need to get right to the point. Did you see any of the emails my partner would have sent you?”
“Nah, mate. I’ve been out on field duties. I’ve just returned to Canberra today and saw your calls.”
Cole was a cop. A good cop. He knew how easily authorities could trace calls.
“Mate, can I call you back in ten minutes from a pay phone?”
“Cam, it’s 2022. What the hell do you need a payphone for?”
“I don’t want the call to be traced.”
“Why the hell would someone trace the call?”
“Just wait, okay? I’ll call you back.”
Cole hung up.
“Keep you eyes peeled for a payphone,” he said to Blake. “I’m not saying shit over our phones. In fact, I reckon we should turn them off.”
“What about Google Maps?” Blake asked. “Can you find your way through Adelaide?”
Cole shrugged. “Good point.”
Four minutes passed. A large shopping complex came into view to their left, the parking lot overflowing with school holiday shoppers. Burnside Village.
“There,” Blake yelled from the passenger seat. “Payphone.”
Cole pulled the Ranger over on a narrow sidewalk beside the payphone and turned his hazard lights on. He waited for traffic to pass, then stepped out toward the payphone. Blake lowered her window on the passenger side.
“Are you kidding?” Cole groaned. “It’s not a phone anymore. It’s a damn wi-fi hotspot!”
He turned to Blake as he read from the sign inside the small glass cubicle. “In an effort to connect the nation, Telstra will convert seventy percent of its public payphone services to free wi-fi hotspots.”
“Where are the other thirty percent?” Blake asked.
“Probably out in the country. Not in this rich area,” he said, pointing to a Porsche Cayenne SUV pull into the parking lot beside them.
“So what now?”
Cole looked up and down the sidewalk. “Rach, I’m going to do what I need to do.”
Without an explanation, he walked north towards a bus stop seating area. Several young men sat on the bench, hunched forward, scrolling zombie-like through their phones. Cole approached them and yanked his badge from his belt.
“G’day lads,” he said as he raised his badge. “I’m with the Major Crimes squad in the Victoria Police Department, and I need to borrow one of your phones for a couple of minutes.”
The closest guy looked up. Early twenties. A chin full of barely classifiable facial fuzz. A pair of black wayfarer sunglasses covered his cautious stare. “Who says you’re the real deal?” he said with proud entitlement. “You can get those badges off eBay for about ten bucks.”
Cole didn’t want to do what he planned on doing, but he needed to act fast. He lifted his shirt, revealing his service pistol mounted in its black holster, a pair of cuffs and a bottle of mace spray, all affixed to the right side of his waist. “Can you get these on eBay, too?”
The young man froze. “Is that real?”
“Look, don’t be difficult. I need your phone for three minutes. Here,” Cole pulled his leather wallet from his rear pocket of his chinos and withdrew a ten-dollar note, “take this for your troubles.”
The man stared at the money, looked at his friend, still scrolling his phone beside him, and shrugged. He reached out and took the note from Cole’s grip and handed his iPhone to Cole.
“Three minutes.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be as fast as I can.”
Cole stepped away from the bench and punched Jonesy’s number into the stranger’s phone. It rang twice, and then connected.
“This isn’t a payphone,” Jonesy said through the line.
“Apparently they’ve removed payphones from up-market areas in South Australia, and replaced them with wi-fi hotspots.”
Jonesy cackled. “What planet have you been living on?” he said. “That’s not just in South Australia. That’s most of the country. Anyway. What’s up? Why the secrecy? Why the urgency? We haven’t spoken in what? A year? Maybe more?”
“Mate, what I’m about to tell you is full on. I don’t know who to trust in the Victorian PD, so I’ve come to you.”
“Okay. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“We got put on a missing person case earlier this week. Some biologist went missing from an industry event, right? Then we got a few leads and bam, they took us off the case.”
“Why?”
“I think we got too close. I think certain powers don’t want this guy found.”
“Okay.” The uncertainty was obvious in Jonesy’s drawn-out tone.
“So our Inspector was acting fishy. We kinda broke protocol and searched his office. We found hard evidence that he’s been covering up for this shell corporation, the same shell corporation that’s tied to this biologist’s disappearance. Jonesy, Inspector Holland is as dirty as they get. He’s corrupt as hell, and we’ve got all the evidence we need.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“We’ve got his laptop, mate. We’ve got saved emails and classified documentation from this shell corporation and its subsidiary, Prime Technologies. He’s been keeping them off the radar. He’s been getting paid to protect them from the law. We need a safeguard from the Federal Police.”
“Jesus.”
“I know right.”
“Where are you now?”
“In SA.”
“SA? What the hell are you doing in South Australia?”
“Following the leads, mate. It all leads to SA.”
“You have no jurisdiction there, Cam.”
“I know… But you do.”
“Cam?”
“First things first. I need to see if this lead checks out. If it does, we might find out where the biologist has gone. Then we need support. We need protection. I don’t know how many other cops are in on this.”
Silence.
“Jonesy? You there?”
Jonesy sighed through the phone line. “Yeah, mate. I’m here. I’m just processing this. It’s big!”
“No shit. I wouldn't be calling you if I didn't think it was big. I don't know who to trust in the force. I need your help, mate.”
“Okay, I’ll make some calls. Don’t worry about your Inspector. If he’s dirty, he’ll go down. Send through everything you’ve got. Send through your location.”
“Will do. And Jonesy, only bring people in on this if you can trust them. This shit is international.”
