Mandy looks at the phone and squirms in her seat. Why has Montifore chosen her to recount events? Because he doesn’t trust Martin to be transparent? Or because she’s more likely to blurt out something she shouldn’t? ‘Where do you want me to start?’ she asks.
‘How did you come to be at the computer store?’
Mandy glances at Yev and Martin, realising she can’t afford to appear to be hiding anything. ‘We were there, Martin and I, seeking Yev’s help.’
‘To do what?’
‘Fifteen minutes isn’t long enough,’ says Martin, interjecting. ‘I’ve been investigating the murders of Max Fuller and Elizabeth Torbett, as well as Tarquin Molloy. Mandy and Yev were helping me.’
Lucic gives a derisive grunt, even as he concentrates on his notes.
Montifore turns to Yev. ‘You’re a computer expert?’
Yev shrugs. ‘If you say so.’
Montifore returns his attention to Martin. ‘You weren’t there when Spitt and Livingstone arrived?’
‘No, I’d already left—to meet with you.’
‘Right. So what time did you leave?’
Martin tells him. Mandy thinks it sounds correct.
Montifore frowns. He returns his attention to Mandy. ‘So Martin leaves, and you and Yevgeny continue to pursue whatever research you’re undertaking on the computers. Correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what happens?’
‘Then Spitt and Livingstone arrived. They came in, locked the doors, held us at gunpoint. Yev and me, and Yev’s sister Lena.’
‘She wasn’t part of your research?’
‘No. She works in the scarvery.’
‘The what?’
‘She sells fashion accessories in a separate part of the shop.’
Montifore blinks, exasperated, as if he can feel his precious fifteen minutes leaking away. ‘What did Spitt and Livingstone want?’
‘Spitt didn’t say much, just grunted every now and then. It was Livingstone asking the questions.’
‘What did he want?’ repeats Montifore, undeterred.
‘Martin. He wanted to find Martin.’
‘Is that all?’
‘And he wanted to know what I knew about Harry Sweetwater and where to find him.’
‘Sweetwater? What did you say?’
‘I said he worked at Mollisons, he could find him there. But he said Sweetwater was on the run, that bad men were after him.’
‘He said that?’ Montifore is addressing Yev, inviting him to confirm it.
‘That’s right,’ says Yev.
‘Were they interested in what you were doing?’ Montifore asks Yev. ‘The computers?’
‘No, not at all,’ replies the geek. ‘He just wanted to find Martin. He said the police had interviewed him this morning.’
‘You let him go?’ Martin asks the detective.
‘Shut up, Scarsden. I’m not talking to you.’
There is unfamiliar anger in the detective’s voice. Mandy wonders what has transpired between them. Does he blame Martin for the shootout?
‘What else did Livingstone want?’ Montifore’s question is directed at Yev.
‘Nothing,’ says Yev, sounding a little cowed.
‘And you told them where Martin was?’ asks Montifore.
‘They had guns,’ says Mandy.
Martin interjects again. ‘Our phones are connected. A tracking app. They used it to find me.’
Montifore looks between them. ‘Martin, do you know why Spitt and Livingstone wanted to find you?’
‘To beat me up? To kill me? To tell me their side of the story? No, I don’t know.’
Montifore turns his attention back to Mandy. ‘Did they know Martin was meeting with Sweetwater?’
‘I don’t know. If they did, they didn’t tell us,’ she says.
‘I didn’t know we were meeting him until you told me, remember?’ adds Martin, but it does little to improve Montifore’s mood. ‘Who else knew he’d been in contact with you?’
The anger is just below the surface now. ‘No, Martin. We are not going there. Not now. Not ever.’ The detective again addresses Mandy. ‘Back before that. How did they find you? At the computer store?’
Mandy doesn’t know how to respond and is glad when Yev answers. ‘They might have tracked the phones.’
Montifore looks intently at Mandy and then at Martin. ‘Is that right?’
‘I thought you didn’t want speculation?’ Martin says.
Montifore gives him a hostile stare, as if he can sense they aren’t revealing all they know, but before he can speak, his own phone vibrates. He checks the screen. ‘I’m needed upstairs. You can go, but I want you back here tomorrow morning. Eight-thirty. We’ll get a formal statement. Bring your lawyers if you think you need them.’
‘Are we safe?’ asks Mandy.
‘What?’ Montifore pauses, even as he’s getting to his feet, as if considering any continuing threat to them for the first time. ‘I would say so. Livingstone is on the run; he won’t be bothering anyone.’
‘Sweetwater?’ asks Martin. ‘He wanted to speak to me, remember?’
Montifore stares at him, mind working. ‘I doubt it. Not now, not if he thinks we led Livingstone to him. But if he does try to get in touch, you must tell me, okay? No going off on one of your crusades. This is too serious, too dangerous.’
‘You mean he might come looking for us?’ says Mandy, trepidation in her voice.
Montifore is already heading to the door as he addresses Lucic. ‘Please arrange for a uniform to escort them back to their hotel.’ Then he turns to Mandy, his voice almost kind. ‘Get your stuff, find another hotel. Send the officer back once you feel safe.’
‘Thanks,’ says Martin.
‘Can I get my phone back?’ asks Yev.
Montifore shakes his head in mock despair. ‘For God’s sake, give the geek his phone.’
SATURDAY
chapter thirty-seven
Martin can’t believe it. He just can’t fucking believe it. He’s sitting in the waiting room of Surry Hills police station reading the Sydney Morning Herald on his phone. Mandy is with him, reading a book; Winifred too, tapping away at her laptop. Outside, life swirls through the smoke, the morning given an additional edge by the shootout, as if Sydney’s cosmopolitan credentials have been elevated to the level of Los Angeles and New York. A television on the wall recounts the events of the Goods Line for the umpteenth time. Witnesses recount their own close calls, bullets missing by inches, unprompted heroism, a friend of a friend who knows the deceased. But Martin hears little of it; his attention is captured by the Herald. First, there’s the headline story—blood on the tracks—the dramatic gunfight, complete with photos retrieved from social media, including one of Montifore and
