Jenny smiled. ‘I do.’
‘And what about you? asked Mac, pleased for a diversion. ‘Have George and that Cambodian been behaving themselves?’
Jenny smiled the way cops do when they’re discussing criminal dickheads. ‘They’ve gone to ground – haven’t turned up here, if that’s what you mean.’
Then came the tough part of the conversation. Tony and Vi Davidson had been at their wedding reception at the Jakarta Golf Club and Vi had insisted on using her family money to pay the booze bill for the function. Then she’d given Jen some hilarious advice on how to stay sane around people like Mac and Tony, most of it centring around dishing up wide-eyed female fl attery at every chance. Vi had been a unique Aussie character and a favourite of the embassy community.
Tears fl owing, Jenny put her arms around him.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
Mac shook his head, looked over her shoulder, out the ranch-sliders to an apartment complex with a swimming pool. ‘People spend their whole lives trying to stay off the radar, never really able to retire.
In some ways he would have been expecting it.’
Jenny’s expression changed with the reality of what Mac was saying. She sniffl ed.
‘By the way,’ said Mac, ‘before I forget – Benny has a tip for you.’
‘Oh yeah?’ she said, sceptical.
‘He says there’s KR money coming out of south-east Queensland.
Seems to be new channels but the front companies in Singers are old and it’s all Khmer Rouge.’
Jenny sat upright. In her world, the Khmer Rouge was synonymous with the slaving rackets. ‘When did the funds start fl owing?’ she asked.
‘A month or two ago, I think,’ said Mac. ‘Don’t quote me – I’ll give you Benny’s number.’
‘You do that,’ she said.
Mac tried to have a normal family day, but the federal cops who strolled along behind them reminded them of the lives they had chosen. They had a few beers with their seafood lunch in Cavill Avenue and then went Christmas shopping. They ended up at the Southport swimming pool and Jenny sat in the baby pool with Rachel and Ke, Mac’s daughter shrieking with joy and her mother all strength and kindness. Ke even managed a smile at Rachel’s antics. Mac sat in the water, taking it in, savouring every second.
Later they lay in bed, listening to the early evening rain making a tapping sound over the hiss of the air-con unit. Jenny felt good in his arms: muscular but also curvy. She snuggled in and put her hand up to Mac’s ear and fondled it. Jenny had not been happy with the news that Mac had another daughter and had grilled Mac about Sarah’s exact age and the timing of the Diane affair. She swung between calling him a bounder and telling him how he’d better pay child support. Although Jen did give him full marks for speaking to Diane’s mother, Felicity, and inviting her and Sarah up to the Gold Coast for Christmas.
She pulled his face into hers, only an inch away. She smelled of toothpaste and he could see her big dark eyes.
‘You’re in luck, Mr Macca,’ she whispered. ‘You married someone with a horrible father.’
Mac gulped.
‘I could never begrudge a girl having a father as wonderful as you.’
‘Thanks,’ said Mac.
‘But here’s the deal. Sarah’s your daughter, but Jenny’s your wife, okay?’
Mac fell asleep like that. In bed with his wife – arms around his best friend.
CHAPTER 54
The Christmas crowds were building by mid-morning and Mac felt relaxed wheeling Rachel through the outdoors area of the Pacifi c Fair shopping mall in Broadbeach.
A female plainclothes AFP agent walked behind them and Ke walked alongside Mac, not saying a word. He looked intelligent and sad, about eight or nine, thought Mac, and had obviously been traumatised by something. Mac wasn’t a great fan of Jenny taking on kids, but the Department of Immigration’s facility for illegals was over- capacity and they did not take on unaccompanied minors over an agreed ratio of offi cers to children. So occasionally they farmed them out to a federal cop – someone who they knew would say yes
– and Mac was giving her a few hours off while she took care of some things.
Walking through the enormous Coles supermarket, Ke’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as Mac did the basic shopping amidst all the Christmas bunting and the piped carols. They stopped by a Santa Claus doing juggling and balloon shapes and Mac got Rachel out of the pram and let her yell and carry on at the show, her little legs kicking. He looked down and saw Ke smiling too and he decided he’d take them for a bite.
Finding a child-friendly cafe, Mac ordered a babyccino and a biscuit for Rachel, and a Coke and a chocolate brownie for Ke. While Rachel put biscuit all over her jumpsuit, Mac tried to get Ke talking.
He was at least engaging Mac with his eyes, which was a start. When Mac asked Ke where he was from, the boy seemed to understand.
Mac said ‘Thailand’, and Ke smiled and put a fi nger up: sign for wait a second. He walked over to a window for a travel agent where there was a big airline promotional poster for Thailand – Phuket, Koh Samui and Bangers. Mac nodded but Ke shook his head, and pointed to the country immediately to the east of northern Thailand. He was pointing at Cambodia.
Checking for tails and eyes, Mac cleared his PO box at the outdoor section of the post offi ce. This was his postal address for Richard Davis, and all of the mail came with the yellow redirect stickers on them.
The way it worked with most postal addresses for a corporate front was that you listed one PO box but had it constantly redirected. It wasn’t foolproof but it eliminated the opportunists who might hang around a post offi ce for a few weeks waiting for a show. He stashed the fi ve bits of mail in the shelf under Rachel’s pram and they all walked home.
With Rachel having her mid-morning sleep, and Ke honing his soccer skills with a baby’s ball on the back patio, Mac sorted the mail, chucking it all out except the car insurance renewal notice and the letter from the Shangri-La, which contained a bill with Paid in full printed on it. He hadn’t offi cially checked out but they’d closed the account and taken it off the Davis Visa card. Looking down the bill, he found the charge for the tennis racquet Diane had used and they’d also invoked the three-hundred-dollar security deposit. Cheeky buggers.
He put it aside – another chance to go to war with DFAT accounts.
Having mopped the fl oor, vacuumed the bedrooms and put on a load of washing, Mac kicked the soccer ball with Ke and got the little bloke laughing about the big Anglo’s clumsiness. He seemed like a nice kid, though Mac was mindful of not becoming too attached since he’d be gone in a few days. Then he made a cup of tea and, letting Ke watch TV, sat out on the rear patio and called Ted.
‘How’s it going?’ said Mac as the old brother picked up.
‘Surviving, mate,’ said Ted.
They talked about Tony and Vi. The cops had made it fairly routine and Ted had helped them with their inquiries.
‘A lot of the old boys are upset,’ said Ted, referring to the retired spies and diplomats at Noosa. ‘The old Brownings and Colts are back out of the mothballs, I can tell you. But anyway – how are you doing on the chase of our associates and their device?’
‘Mate, I’ve been taken off it. It’s in the hands of the CT guys now.’
Ted understood – if you went to a border-protection footing you couldn’t have every Commonwealth employee trying to get involved.
‘I was thinking about that,’ mused Ted. ‘Aussies know what they’re doing, but I hope they’re putting some thinking into concealment strategies.’
