Deadly Trust Page 20

  Toni continued. ‘Roll with the punches and follow my lead. The lives of many depend on us. Don’t mess it up by doing something stupid.’

  Jay bit his tongue. Toni was his only hope.

  But could she be trusted?

  FORTY-TWO

  The roller-door kicked into life before Sergeant had reappeared with his bandages fixed. A silver BMW glided under the ascending door and came to a halt around fifteen metres from the front of the Chevy.

  Mike Carter stepped from the BMW like he was stepping onto the red carpet. Black tuxedo; bow tie included. Two identical-looking Maori men in tight snappy suits and waving semi-automatic pistols got out of the vehicle and stood by the side doors. Carter gave a grin as Sergeant smacked his head on the doorframe of the Chevy as he was extricating himself.

  Sergeant limped towards Carter and asked, ‘Do you have my package?’

  ‘Nice to see you again too, Sergeant,’ Carter replied.

  ‘I’m not in the mood for pleasantries. Just give me the anthrax and we’ll be on our way.’

  Carter dug a manicured finger under his bow tie while stepping past Sergeant. He smiled as he stopped short of Jay. ‘Nice to see you again, Mr. Ryan.’

  ‘Under different circumstances I’d shake your hand, Carter.’

  ‘Zip ties hurting?’

  ‘Yeah. But that’s not the reason I wouldn’t shake your hand. What’s with the penguin suit? Trying to look like a sophisticated mobster?’

  ‘Off to the opera actually.’ He checked his watch. ‘And we’ll need to be going if I’m to make it on time.’ He turned towards Toni and said, ‘All set.’

  She nodded. ‘Is he here?’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking to her for, Carter?’ Sergeant said. He was pumping his hands by his sides and took a couple of steps towards Carter.

  ‘Beg your pardon?’ Carter asked.

  ‘I said what the fuck are you talking to her for? Have your goons shoot her. You’ve got what you want.’ He nodded at Jay. ‘Now give me what’s mine and we can get on with it.’

  Carter looked from Sergeant to Toni to Jay, and then back to Sergeant. ‘Seems to be someone missing here. Where is Jacob?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The colleague I sent to rescue your useless arse from Mr. Ryan here.’ He looked down at Sergeant’s leg. ‘Who I assume winged you before Jacob arrived. Just in time, no doubt.’

  ‘Your assassin, you mean.’

  ‘Associate actually. Now where is he?’

  ‘She killed him.’

  Carter turned his attention back to Toni, who was holding the shotgun at a non-threatening angle towards the ground. ‘That true?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. On his orders.’

  Carter gave a slight nod.

  ‘That’s bullshit. Don’t believe that bitch. She’s almost ruined this operation on countless occasions,’ Sergeant said. ‘And if you weren’t so obsessed with Ryan, we could already be making millions.’

  Carter pulled at a cuff as he slowly walked back towards his car. He opened up the rear door, reached in and pulled out Mark Simpson.

  Simpson was gagged and his hands were cuffed to his front. He wore a three-quarter length coat with hiking boots. His hair was dishevelled and he looked around to take in his surroundings. His eyes never left Jay as Carter pushed him towards Toni.

  Jay found it intriguing that Simpson hadn’t made eye contact as yet with his cousin.

  Sergeant looked in shock. He was about to say something when Carter pulled a pistol from inside his coat and shot him between the eyes.

  The only person who didn’t instinctively duck at the sound of the shot was Carter himself, and of course Sergeant, who dropped like a rag doll.

  Carter placed the pistol back into the inside of his jacket, turned and nudged Simpson closer to Toni. With a hand on Simpson’s shoulder, he said, ‘As promised, straight swap for Mr. Ryan. Five hundred thousand has been deposited into the account you gave. The remainder will follow as soon as your final task is complete. You’re one cold bitch. I like that, but don’t be foolish enough to think I won’t track you down and cause you a slow, painful death if it doesn’t go as planned. Understand?’

  Toni nodded. For the first time Simpson made real eye contact with Toni. A quizzical look like he didn’t know her. He gave Jay a quick glance. Jay responded with the slightest of nods, not really sure why he was giving the okay signal on Toni’s behalf. Carter didn’t seem to pick up on the exchange.

  ‘Just remember,’ Carter said to Toni. ‘Your cousin releases the anthrax at the given time on the exact spot I said. No sooner, no later, and no other location.’

  Carter unzipped Simpson’s jacket. A black vest with small pockets in the front became exposed. ‘He simply pulls on the exposed cord underneath one of the pockets and the anthrax will be released as an aerosol.’

  ‘And he’s definitely immune from it?’ Toni asked.

  ‘He’s received the right needles. As was evidenced by the length that crazy scientist went to in securing your cousin and his compatriots, including Mr. Ryan here. He may get a little sick, not much more than your average head cold. But I assure you, if it goes down as planned we’ll all walk out of this in one piece; and all a little richer.’ Carter pointed to the second pocket in Simpson’s vest. ‘In there is a mobile phone and just a tiny bit of explosives, just enough to blow a nice little hole in your cousin’s chest. I’ll have men in the festival crowd. If he’s not in the exact spot at the exact time, I make a call and it’s all over.

  Jay recalled a street festival in Brisbane coming up – a seafood and wine festival. Thousands would be descending on the Caxton Street festival.

  Carter continued. ‘Also, tucked in there is a neat little gadget some of my techs came up with. Basically, it’s a temperature gauge taped to his chest, which picks up the slightest change in temperature. Take off the vest or gauge, and boom!’

  ‘How do we know you won’t make that call after the anthrax release?’

  ‘Going to have to trust me there, little lady. As you can see, my word is good.’

  Toni looked over to Sergeant’s lifeless body. ‘Didn’t you give him your word?’

  Carter smiled. ‘He tried to doublecross me by having you deliver Mr. Ryan to the scientist. And, he killed my best go-to guy. I’ll keep my word as long as you keep yours.’

  Toni nodded.

  The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit for Jay. Some at least. He was still confused about Toni’s role. She definitely wasn’t Simpson’s cousin. But why the deal with Carter? With Sergeant’s death, that left Carter and maybe the Commissioner, who would profit most out of the anthrax outbreak. He still didn’t know about the Commissioner, though. Perhaps Carter’s brother was the other partner.

  Carter seemed to sense that Jay was deep in thought. ‘Confused?’ he asked Jay.

  An opportunity had arisen. Jay went with a hunch. ‘How about your brother? He tried to have me killed. He doublecrossed you.’

  Carter gave a wry smile and shook his head.

  Jay smiled back. ‘The Commissioner.’

  Carter kept the smile. But his eyes narrowed. A sign that Jay had hit a nerve. Something to remember. A sore point perhaps. ‘He’s your competition, isn’t he?’ Jay asked.

  Carter lowered his eyes, pulled back a cuff and checked his shiny Rolex. ‘We’ll discuss your theories later. I have an appointment to keep.’ He looked at Toni and said, ‘Don’t mess it up. I’ll be watching.’

  Toni didn’t reply.

  Carter didn’t grab Jay. Just gave a nod for him to move to the car.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Jay asked as he moved towards Carter’s vehicle.

  Carter was already strides in front and didn’t bother turning when he replied, ‘Just for a little ride.’

  ‘Well ... if you plan on trying to kill me, then I feel a shitload better. May even start thinking about my retirement plans.’

  Carter p
aused at the open rear door. With one foot in the vehicle he looked at Jay. ‘You’ll die all right, Mr. Ryan. It’s going to be real painful and real slow. But first I need you to watch another very painful and slow death. Bet you can’t guess whose it’ll be.’

  FORTY-THREE

  Jay sunk into the leather seats of Carter’s vehicle. The Maori passenger turned in his seat, pistol pointed at Jay. No need for him to say anything. Neutral eyes, comfortable position – methodical. Never any doubt that the trigger would have been pulled if Jay had done anything untoward. Perhaps some conversation instead, he thought.

  He turned towards Carter and said, ‘A little inconvenient with the hands tied behind. Makes it hard to do the seatbelt up.’

  ‘Why? Worried we might crash and you go flying through the windscreen?’

  ‘Not really. I’m sure the good citizens up front are very careful.’ Jay eyed the Maori with the gun pointed at him. ‘Law abiding and knowledgeable about when to do the right thing.’

  As the car reversed out of the shed, Carter said, ‘Don’t be fooled by their calm demeanour, Mr. Ryan. They make my dearly departed associate look like a choirboy.’

  Although he knew he was pushing it, Jay couldn’t help himself. ‘I guess that’s why you were so upset at Sergeant. You thought of your assassin as a choirboy. Must make you the priest who enjoys such company.’

  The right button had been pushed as the smile quickly evaporated from Carter and was replaced with a scowl. He gave the Maori a slight nod.

  In the right circumstances, a jab to the face could break the nose. Leaning forward over a seat and with very little room to move, a left-handed jab that is fairly well ‘advertised’ would be lucky to draw blood. Unless, of course, it’s thrown by a quick-moving Maori with about one hundred and twenty kilos of mostly muscle behind the momentum. Jay was quick enough, but with nowhere to move and no way to defend, his nose cracked under the Maori’s fist.

  With his vision blurred and blood running from his nose, Jay ducked his head to his chest to take the next jab on the top of his head. It didn’t come. There wasn’t any follow-up. No need, he supposed. He was left in no doubt as to how well his questioning technique had gone down with Carter.

  ‘Let’s count that as somewhat of a preamble of what’s to come for you, Mr. Ryan.’

  So many things were on the tip of Jay’s tongue, but he maintained control and remained silent.

  ‘Well, that’s a change,’ Carter said. ‘Normally you can’t help yourself mouthing off to try to correct a perceived wrong. Remember East Timor? Just a few unwarranted words from your big mouth that effectively ruined my career.’

  Straight to the obvious heart of the matter between the two of them, Jay thought. He blew out a blob of blood onto his shirt and lifted his head to face Carter. ‘You were conducting illegal interrogations of prisoners. Somebody had to stop you.’

  ‘I got results.’

  ‘No. You got false confessions. You couldn’t see the forest for the trees.’

  ‘You morally crusade for prisoners who rape after they kill innocent men, women or children. You wanted to treat them with food, water and shelter while most of the population went without one or all of those. You were the one who couldn’t see the forest.’

  ‘I acquired accurate information from prisoners by following the rules.’

  ‘There are no rules in war!’ Carter boomed.

  ‘You’re wrong, Carter. A long time ago people a lot smarter than you or I got together and came up with some rules of war. In particular, the Geneva Conventions. We’re signatories to those conventions. What you were doing was in breach of those rules.’

  ‘Times change and those so-called rules haven’t. While the bad guys’ tactics have evolved and they do what they like, we don’t get an even playing field. You think you know everything, Ryan. Tell me then, how can that be fair?’

  ‘We have the best trained army in the world. Qualified interrogators go through a rigorous selection process and spend countless hours honing their skills. Methods and techniques studied, ploys researched and practised until they are second nature. Interrogation isn’t for everyone. You need skill, patience, tolerance and discipline to avoid doing exactly what you did.’

  Carter gritted his teeth. ‘You think you are the world’s best interrogator, don’t you, Ryan?’

  ‘No. Never claimed to be. But from experience I can safely say that with your arrogance and out-of-control ego, you wouldn’t have made it through week one of an interrogation course.’

  Carter appeared ready to strangle Jay. But probably remembered what he was wearing and the fact he had a couple of goons to do the dirty work for him. He clenched harder at his jaw and gave another slight nod to his hired help.

  Jay was better prepared this time. He lowered his head, tightened his neck muscles and took the Maori’s jab on the top of his skull. The hit sent him back in the chair, blurred his vision and sent an instant shot of pain down his spine. Despite this, the sound of breaking knuckles brought a slight grin.

  The Maori yelped and Jay braced for an onslaught. Again it didn’t happen. Jay had once broken a knuckle himself, boxing, and knew the pain the Maori must be feeling, yet he was amazed at the hired rock-ape’s discipline.

  With his head still lowered Jay peeked across at Carter, who was now looking out of his window across the Brisbane River at the edge of the city.

  Jay left it at that and, avoiding eye contact with the Maori, moved his gaze towards his window, noticing the lights of the city looming.

  Lost in a trance of the light rain shimmering against the city lights, Jay barely noticed them coming to a halt outside Brisbane’s Lyric Theatre. As he stared at an oversized title screaming the show’s name, Jay commented, ‘Sounds like an Italian restaurant.’

  Carter gave a huff and said, ‘Typical ignorance of a non-commissioned officer. No respect for the arts, or understanding of the pure beauty and invigorating experience a night at the opera can give.’

  Jay turned. ‘Rigoletto. A tale of betrayal and revenge. Common type of premise: some violence and sex, masculine – if not bizarre – baritone and gorgeous soprano. Three acts running for a few hours. Quite an enjoyable opera from arguably one of the most influential composers of the nineteenth century, Giuseppe Verdi.’

  A slightly shocked look turned into a grin from Carter. ‘Impressive. It’s rare to come across someone of a lesser class who enjoys the opera.’

  Fuck you and your lesser class comments, Jay thought. ‘An enjoyment for the arts cannot, and should not, be defined by heritage or social standing. You don’t need to be born with a silver spoon sticking out of your arse to enjoy the opera, ballet, literary works or fine art. I’ll bet you’ll find the person who prints your opera programs, wipes down your seats, or pours your chardonnay knows quite a bit more about the opera than you.’

  Carter gave a slight shake of his head. ‘I doubt it. But hold on to your fantasies.’

  Jay quickly changed the subject. ‘Something I’ve been pondering. Why did you try to kill me at the licensing centre?’

  Carter checked his watch before saying, ‘That, Mr. Ryan, will have to wait until after the performance.’ The Maori driver had scooted around the vehicle and had been waiting until Carter had finished before opening the door. He did so and Carter stepped out.

  Before the door closed, Jay said, ‘Just one more quick thing.’

  Carter ducked his head back inside the car. He looked agitated. ‘What?’

  Jay leaned back in his seat and indicated towards the front of the theatre with his head. ‘See that poster just there?’

  Carter looked past Jay and nodded.

  ‘On your way in, have a closer look.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Carter walked around the vehicle and up a couple of steps. The poster wasn’t too far from the vehicle. Carter gave a quick read, probably only the parts in bold type: the ones Jay had read through as they pulle
d up. Jay figured out fairly quickly the look he received from Carter was that of rage: the sudden realisation that Jay knew nothing about the opera. All the information had come from the poster.

  A finger crept across Carter’s throat before he turned and walked into the theatre.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Four hours sitting on cuffed hands has a tendency to make one a little uncomfortable. By the time Carter re-entered his vehicle from his operatic evening, Jay had had three hours fifty minutes of valuable sleep, and no feeling in his arms. Despite the situation, the sleep had come easy. He guessed old soldiers’ habits died hard. As he rolled his shoulders, he wondered if the Maori with the weapon still pointed at him had maintained the stance the whole time. Maybe just leaned back over when the ‘boss’ came spruiking down the theatre steps.

  A whiff of perfume followed Carter into the vehicle. Considering Jay could hardly breathe through his broken nose, he mused at how strong the scent must be to the others. Carter’s bloodshot eyes meant too many champagnes, and a long night ahead for Jay. He knew that those who already lacked an ethical conscience excelled at exercising their demons while on the turps. On the bright side, it also meant they were more susceptible to talking and boasting.

  Jay continued to roll his shoulders and asked, ‘How was it?’

  The vehicle was rolling before Carter said, ‘Wonderful. A beautiful night out with great company. Something you’ll never get to see yourself, Mr. Ryan. Now, to top it all off, I get to participate in the encore.’

  Jay gave a smile, then pretended to stare out of the window.

  After a slight pause Carter said, ‘You know what you’re in for, yet you’re smiling. Why?’

  Jay counted slowly to five, all the time smiling, and then turned to face Carter.

  ‘Irony.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘After your career disintegrated, you recovered to head a quasi-Australian security industry. Albeit a corrupt one. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of cash to enjoy expensive nights at the opera with cheap champagne and even cheaper women.’