‘Not really. I’m told we met briefly at Riversend, but I don’t recall much.’
‘And in Port Silver? Last Sunday?’
It’s Mandy’s turn to shrug. ‘I remember a man in a suit, an impression. And your name. You told me your name. But that’s all. What happened?’
‘I was knocked out.’
‘And I was drugged.’
‘Do you know who hit me?’
This gives her pause. Surely he knows; he must be testing her. ‘Didn’t Morris Montifore tell you?’
‘He did. But I don’t entirely trust Detective Inspector Montifore. He has his own priorities.’
‘It was Zelda Forshaw. Or her accomplice.’
‘Good. He was telling it straight.’ He hesitates, then decides to clarify his priorities. ‘Morris Montifore is a homicide detective, focused purely on murder, on finding who killed Tarquin Molloy. I’m not. I’m also a policeman, but I have been seconded to the ACIC. Do you know what that is?’
She does, but figures he’ll be happier explaining it to her; he’s that sort of man. ‘Not really,’ she says.
‘We run criminal intelligence, investigating organised crime, drug syndicates, that sort of thing. We build up models of illegality, of criminal organisations, instead of acting after the fact, like most police.’
‘I see. What has that to do with me?’
‘Tarquin Molloy was working for the ACIC when he was killed.’ That surprises her; Vandenbruk offering up new information. ‘Did he work for you? Is this personal?’
‘No. Not for me.’ Vandenbruk laughs, a strange and hollow sound. ‘If he did, they wouldn’t let me within a country mile of this case. Just the opposite. They need someone unconnected, someone with clean hands. I met him briefly a couple of times, but I was unaware he was undercover. I thought he was some sort of pretty-boy profiler. Which just goes to show how good he was.’
‘Good at what?’
‘At deceiving people.’
‘What was his real name?’
Vandenbruk shakes his head, sighs. ‘I can’t tell you. You must know that.’
‘So what do you need to know?’
‘Molloy was working under deep cover. His identity was kept a closely guarded secret, even after he disappeared, just in case he was alive out there somewhere. That’s what the brass told me when I was assigned to this investigation. Of course, it’s just as likely that, at the time, they believed the story about him absconding with millions and wanted to keep it hushed up, to avoid embarrassment, questions in parliament, lurid reporting. But now we have confirmed he was murdered, that’s changed things big time. Maybe he was killed for the money. Maybe for trying to steal it. But there’s another possibility, one that has the ACIC exercised. It’s possible that the whole story of the stolen money was a smokescreen, invented by the bank, Mollisons, as a way to cover their tracks, to explain his disappearance. It’s possible he was killed for doing his job. That he found out something truly damaging. Something worth killing a cop for.’
‘But Zelda went to prison over the money.’
‘Yes, but all the evidence was provided by the bank. How could she stand against that?’
‘What are you saying? That the bank suckered the police? Is that possible?’
‘It’s unlikely, but my job is to check every angle. So let me ask you this: at any time, did Molloy ever mention to you, his fiancé, that he intended to steal money from the bank?’
‘No. Never.’ She draws a breath, thinking. ‘I do recall him saying on one instance that the bank’s cybersecurity was lax and should be looked at, but he didn’t express any intention to exploit that. But Zelda—I thought she confessed.’
‘And I have no doubt she’s telling the truth. That’s what she believed happened.’
‘It’s why she kidnapped me. She thought I knew where the money might be.’
‘And do you?’
‘Of course not. I only became aware of the rumour that he had stolen the money after Tarquin disappeared.’
‘You believed the rumour?’
‘Everyone did, once they convicted Zelda.’
‘The police investigated you at the time. What about the bank? They ran their own investigation, didn’t they?’
She finds herself frowning: Vandenbruk must know all this. ‘Yes. I was cleared.’
‘They sacked you.’
‘They sacked a lot of people.’
Vandenbruk smiles his unnatural smile, leans back, hands behind his head. The seam of his suit under his right armpit is beginning to give way. ‘So you know of no evidence that Molloy ever actually took any money?’
‘No. Only Zelda’s conviction. As I said, I only heard the rumour after he disappeared.’
‘And did Molloy, at any stage whatsoever, ever mention any other information he had found about Mollisons? Not about stealing the money, but evidence that the bank was in any way acting against the law?’
Mandy shakes her head, looks him in the eye. ‘Evidence? No. Absolutely not. And I certainly had no idea he wasn’t who he said he was.’
Vandenbruk drops his hands back on the table, smiles again before growing serious. ‘Listen, I don’t want to upset you, but this needs to be said. Tarquin Molloy was an exceptional undercover agent. I’ve come to appreciate that since I’ve been working on this case. He maintained a false identity for almost two years. He may well have infiltrated a significant criminal operation. But exceptional agents aren’t typically exceptional human beings. Just the opposite. They’re like spies. Ruthless. Manipulative. Amoral. Quite prepared to break the law, to break the normal rules of society, to live outside the acceptable. To bribe, to blackmail, to coerce. They become such exceptional liars that they live their lies, inhabit them. You understand what I am saying?’
‘I do. You don’t think I haven’t thought about that? He manipulated me. He slept with me, told me he loved me, proposed marriage to me. And all the time he was sleeping with Zelda. And with his wife.’
‘You know about that? That he was married?’
‘Is it true? He had children?’
Vandenbruk shakes his head, sadness in his eyes. He doesn’t speak for a time, and when he does, he doesn’t answer the question. ‘So all that time, you never suspected he was a police officer?’
‘No.’
‘And even now, looking back, do you know of anything
