‘What do you mean?’
‘Him treating you like that, deserting you. That’s what we thought, of course—that he’d run off with the money, been in cahoots with Zelda Forshaw. That’s what management said, the official line.’ She looks at her coffee, still assimilating what Mandy has told her. ‘But that didn’t stop them sacking us.’
‘Is that what they said?’
‘They didn’t have to. Officially, it was a restructure, the one that they’d been planning for months, but there was a lingering sense that they suspected Zelda wasn’t his only accomplice.’
‘Who was it? Who had us sacked?’
‘Security ran the internal investigation. So Harry Sweetwater, assisted by Clarity Sparkes. She was asking a lot of questions. At first she defended you, defended us, but I guess she smelt which way the wind was blowing.’
Mandy remembers Clarity, Montifore asking about her. ‘Her job. Physical security. What does that mean?’
‘Passes mainly. Swipe cards. CCTV. The guards on the front desk. Not the computers, not vetting people, none of the financials. The simple stuff.’
‘Is she still there, do you know?’
Pam looks shocked. ‘No. Didn’t you hear?’
‘What?’
‘She died. Not so long after we were laid off. A month or two later.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Mandy, if only because it’s the polite thing to say, the sort of thing Pam would expect. ‘How did she die? She seemed really fit to me, like a gym junkie.’
‘No. Turns out she was a real junkie. Overdosed in a hotel room. Heroin and cocaine, of all things. A speedball they call it.’
‘An overdose? Clarity?’ Mandy shakes her head, finding it hard to believe. ‘She always seemed so, I don’t know, officious and in control.’
Pam sighs at the description. ‘Seems there was a whole different side to her. The word was that she’d been hooked for years but was highly functional. Nobody knew. There was office Clarity and after-hours Clarity. After she died, it all came out; she moved with some strange types: artists and musos and druggies. And worse: bouncers, debt collectors, pushers. The funeral was a very peculiar mix of people.’ A frown comes over the woman’s face, as if she’s considering the implications of what she is saying, or maybe she feels bad speaking ill of the dead. A ginger cat leaps onto her lap and she pats it while it settles. When she speaks again, her voice is low. ‘What is it you want to know, Mandy? Why did you come here?’
‘Three days ago I was abducted by Zelda Forshaw. She still thinks the money is out there somewhere.’
Pam blinks, looking distressed. She fidgets with the cat; it stands in protest and circles, clawing at her trousers before resettling. ‘I always thought Tarquin disappeared overseas with it. We all did. They arrested Zelda. But now …’
‘Now?’
‘Well, now that we know he was killed, it seems that he didn’t get away with it. And you say he was a policeman, so maybe the whole story about missing millions was a smokescreen.’
‘Maybe. But if he was a cop, what was he investigating? Did you ever get the impression something was wrong with Mollisons, that the bank was involved with anything criminal?’
‘No. Never. Not that.’ She pats the cat some more. ‘I knew they were astute, minimising tax for clients, using legal loopholes and offshore havens and schemes at the margins, but that’s what investment banks get paid to do. Use the law, bend it maybe, but not break it. That was just my impression, though. I was in support services, nothing to do with the financials. How could I know?’
‘But they sacked all of us. They must have thought we knew something.’
Another frown. ‘I guess.’
‘I remember Sweetwater. He interrogated me with Clarity. What was his position?’
‘Her boss. Head of security.’
‘He seemed very wound up.’
‘Still is, so I’m told.’
‘He still works there? At Mollisons?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Maybe I should go see him.’
‘I wouldn’t bother. It’s his job to keep Mollisons’ secrets secret. He wouldn’t confirm the time of day.’
Mandy stares at the ginger cat. No doubt Pam is right. But the thought, having settled in her head, won’t let go. ‘Would anyone else know about the passwords, besides me, you, Clarity Sparkes and Harry Sweetwater?’
‘Stacks of people. There was an internal investigation by the security team when the money was discovered missing; they would have interviewed scores of people. Senior management would have been briefed about the whole thing, it would have been discussed by the board. I’m sure people in IT would have been involved when they tried to find out if Tarquin had improperly accessed anything. And maybe the Turtle. He might have discovered something, or Clarity could have put him on the case.’
Mandy’s skin crawls. ‘Jesus. The Turtle. I’d forgotten all about him.’
The look on Pam’s face suggests she doesn’t believe her.
‘Clarity was his boss; the Turtle reported directly to her,’ says Pam.
‘Really?’
‘Of course. To Clarity and up the line to Sweetwater.’
‘What was the Turtle’s real name? Did anyone ever know?’
‘Kenneth someone. Kenneth Steadman? I hear he survived the purge; he still works there. At Mollisons. The rest of us were sacked, but he’s part of the furniture.’
chapter fourteen
Bethanie meets him at a food court inside a shopping mall at Darling Harbour. It’s a good choice: out of the wind, yet no self-respecting Sydneysider would be seen dead here. Instead, tourists mill around, disappointed at the choice of food, insulted by the prices and apprehensive of the birds scavenging for scraps. Even this early in the day, there is a pervasive smell of fried food and sugar. She’s already seated at a plastic table when he gets there, running a disposable spoon around the rim of her coffee cup, absent-mindedly harvesting froth.
‘Bethanie.’
She stands, gives him a smile and a peck on the cheek. She’s changed since he last saw her, more than a year ago. Her practical bob has evolved into a more fashionable cut, longer with highlights. Her face has matured and grown leaner,
