then?’
‘Once upon a time, maybe. I can remember the days when I didn’t assume every stranger I met was trying to slot me. But no, we didn’t give them a chance. I walked into the apartment first, gave them a bit of arse wiggle to think about. The Rhino mustered them in from behind. The door wasn’t even closed before he kicked out the knee of the bloke just in front of him. Smashed him in the head with a bourbon bottle as he went down. His mate was reaching for a gun, but not quickly enough. I head-tapped him twice with the .22 I had ready in my purse. Two in the noggin.’
‘And you are certain they were contract killers?’
‘We searched them before dumping the bodies. They had heavy coats. They were both carrying duct tape, gags, and pistols with suppressors. The one I shot had a little video camera too. Fucking freak. But then Cesky probably needed some proof before paying out on the contract. We didn’t go looking for a vehicle, but if we had, I’m sure we’d have found heavy plastic bags and cutting tools in the back. They were hitters, for certain. Drunken, incompetent hitters.’
‘But with nothing about their persons to tie them to Cesky.’
‘I think we’re a little beyond the realm of reasonable doubt. No, they weren’t carrying notarised contracts for our execution or a line of credit from Henry’s personal banker. But the duct tape and the silencers were good enough for me.’
They were good enough for Mr Shah too, she could tell. One brusque nod was the extent of his comment on the matter. Jules found that her hands had stopped shaking while she was telling the story. Perhaps it had taken her mind off recent unpleasant events, although her stomach remained a hot, roiling mess at the memory of her friend disappearing inside the explosion that had destroyed his boat. She had just resumed her seat when they were interrupted by three soft knocks on the door.
‘Yes,’ barked Shah. He had left instructions not to be interrupted.
The door opened and Jules beamed at the sight of another face from the past. She’d not yet had a chance to say hello to the man she once knew as Corporal Birendra, once of Her Majesty’s Royal Gurkha Regiment.
‘Miss Julianne,’ he said, returning the smile.
She was out of her chair before Shah could reprimand him. ‘Oh my god, Birendra, it feels like years! Well, it
Shah cleared his throat loudly behind her as Birendra shuffled into the room. Jules rushed over to give the man a hug. He disentangled himself with apologies before addressing his boss.
‘I did not wish to interrupt you, but it is the police, sir. They are on the phone again, insisting on another interview.’
‘Do they have further information about the bombing at my house?’ Shah asked him.
Birendra looked chagrined. ‘I do not think so, sir. They are insisting you attend an interview with them this afternoon. At the Bagot Road station.’
‘And they have given no indication of what they wish to discuss?’
‘I am sorry, no. They would not say any more.’
Shah frowned and began moving pieces of paper and pens around his desk, obviously unhappy. ‘This cannot be a coincidence, Miss Julianne,’ he said. ‘I have heard nothing from these detectives in four days. And now, an hour after the attempt on Mr Ross’s life, they insist on my attendance. I find myself in a quandary.’
He picked up an expensive-looking fountain pen from the blotter in front of him and began drumming it rapidly on the desk.
‘I cannot help but feel it is connected to this Cesky business. We have not had time to consider all of the intricacies involved, yet I think it might serve us well were you to accompany me in some guise or capacity. You have been dealing with this matter for some months now …’
‘I wouldn’t say I’ve been
‘Nevertheless,’ Shah responded, ‘I have only just begun to grapple with the implications of having this man as a possible enemy. Whereas you and Mr Ross have been contemplating the matter since you left New York City.’
He gave the blotter one loud and final drum stroke with the pen. A decision made.
‘Birendra, tell the police officers we shall meet them at four o’clock. Have my lawyer attend as well. And make sure he knows that my other lawyer will be coming with us.’
‘Your other lawyer, sir?’
Shah smiled like a grey nurse shark. ‘Miss Julianne has a classical education, Birendra. A shower, some clean clothes and an empty briefcase, and I’m sure no one will question her presence at this interview.’
‘What about your actual lawyer?’ asked Jules, not at all sure this was a good idea.
‘He will probably bill me for your time,’ the old Gurkha replied with another wide grin. ‘And of course I will pay him. He is most understanding when his bills are paid promptly.’
Shah stood up and rubbed his hands, like a man contemplating a long-awaited lunch. He looked over at his faithful number two. ‘Birendra, summon my daughter. She can show Miss Julianne through to the ladies’ wash facilities and provide her with some clean clothes. They are about the same size, and I know Ashmi keeps outfits hidden from me so that she might sneak out with her friends when she thinks my attention is elsewhere.’
Julianne found herself hustled out of the office in Birendra’s wake. She wanted to object but was swept along by the two men. And in spite of her misgivings, she admitted it was possible that Shah was right. They had not had time to compare notes in the few hours since she’d first contacted him this morning. She was unknown to the authorities in Darwin. She might well pass unnoticed in the meeting, and if the police did wish to discuss either of the bomb attacks with Shah, she might well pick up on something that meant nothing to him.
‘And Birendra,’ said Shah, ‘find Mr Pappas if he is in the city. We may need to consult him as well.’
‘Yes sir.’
Jules tried to imagine herself in the role of Narayan Shah’s lawyer. She had considered studying law once. Her father had encouraged her with all his might and main. For a man who had never worked hard at anything but cards and calumny, Lord Balwyn’s enthusiasm for placing one of his own deep within the corpus of the justice system was unsettling. In fact, it was all the warning she needed. After a brief flirtation with the idea of donning lawyer’s robes, Jules had decided to study the classics instead. When she went up to Trinity, she took honours in drinking, with a double major in shopping and fucking.
*
The Bagot Road Police Station, like the suburb it serviced, was painfully new. That wasn’t just a metaphor. The lowering sun blazed down with restrained ferocity in the late afternoon, throwing intense sunbursts off the steel and glass facade of the building. Jules caught a flash in one eye and flinched. The after-image burned a streak across her retina and for a moment she feared a migraine might be coming on. She’d only ever had one, and that had been caused by an inopportune flash of light off a chrome benchtop.
She fumbled in the pockets of the military-cut green silk shirt she had borrowed from Shah’s daughter, before remembering that her sunglasses were perched on top of her head. With the imitation D&G shades in place - another item on loan from Ashmi - Jules no longer had to squint into the harsh glare.
The station was just west of the airport, only a few minutes’ drive from the compound. A hunched, brutalist structure, it squatted on the busy road opposite a small golf course, a nine-hole eccentricity owned and operated by the Royal Australian Air Force. The airport runway ended in a concrete apron maybe half a mile or so away, over an empty field on the far side of the golf links. A fat-bellied military transport plane roared in to land, directly over her head. The shadow flitted across the golf course like a giant, awkward bird of prey. Julianne assumed the unusual arrangement was a leftover from the city’s pre-Wave frontier history. There wasn’t much else left over from that time in this small area of northern Darwin.
‘This was all a waste ground when I arrived,’ Shah remarked, sweeping his hand in a graceful arc. ‘You cannot see it now, but the ocean is only a few minutes’ walk away.’
Jules tried to catch a glimpse of the striking jade-green waters she’d flown over on arrival, but the suburb across the road from the RAAF’s beautifully maintained lawns had been so densely developed, it presented as a solid wall of concrete, fibrous cement, tinted glass, steel and aluminium. Small commercial set-ups and government enterprises, among them the police station and an office of the Free Port Development Authority, faced onto Bagot
