three kevlon vests.
I said, ‘How the hell did you get these?’
‘I called in a favour,’ Frank said. ‘I’m fast running out of them, but Gregory’s bound to have a weapon. And from your account of his state of mind it seems like a sensible precaution.’
Townsend put his vest on with apparent enjoyment. He’d obviously worn these things before. I hadn’t, and struggled with the straps. Clearly, Townsend was impressed by Parker’s steadiness. He could probably detect a faint smell of whisky from me, very faint. With Townsend in the front and Parker in the back, I drove towards checkpoint number one.
‘He’s cautious,’ Townsend said. ‘Like you in Drummoyne, Cliff.’
Parker said, ‘He’s experienced. Vince. Gregory had a pretty good record before he went into the Northern Crimes Unit. Some good results.’
We reached the checkpoint and stopped. Waited. After ten minutes my mobile rang.
‘Hardy? Got Townsend and Parker with you?’
He could probably see us, or was bluffing that he could. But he was scripting the scene for now, and I played along.
‘Yes, they’re here.’
‘Right. The caravan park. Stop at the gates and wait. I’ll tell you the cabin number when I’m ready. Approach on foot.’
He sounded composed. In one way that was good, not in another.
‘Have you got a gun?’ I asked before he could cut the connection.
‘Bet your fuckin’ life I’ve got a gun. Several, and I’ll use them if I have to.’
The phone went dead. ‘He’s heavily armed,’ I said. ‘But he doesn’t sound wired.’
Parker said, ‘It’s not too late to call this off. He’s down there somewhere and he’s got drugs and guns he shouldn’t have. I could call it in, and we could take him as he is.’
‘We’d get nothing but bullshit, Frank. And if they locked him up you know the others’d find a way to get to him. He says he can tell me who killed Lily. That’s my focus. You said you were in.’
‘I am,’ Parker said, ‘just spelling it out for you. Townsend?’
‘I don’t know how much Cliff’s told you, Mr Parker, but it’s more than just a story for me. It’s personal as well. Bit like Cliff. Not exactly, but…’
‘Bugger you both,’ Parker said. ‘Let’s get to this bloody caravan park and play it by ear.’
Townsend had the UBD on his lap and a small torch in his hand. ‘It’s down near the water as you’d expect,’ he said. ‘First left, second right.’
A boom gate barred the entrance to the caravan park. Presumably the occupants had means of opening it. A few lights were on inside the area, but at this time of year there wouldn’t be many transients. Hard to tell how many residents. We sat in the car and did some more waiting. The sky was cloudy but cleared to reveal a bright moon. The Georges River water was calm, with no breeze blowing. The lights of Tom Ugly’s bridge were reflected in the water; the sounds of the traffic carried clearly and the car lights gave the scene its only movement. The stillness tested my nerves.
The mobile beeped and I answered.
‘Cabin twelve,’ Gregory said. ‘Set off in ten minutes.’
‘Where is it?’
‘A hundred metres down, bear right. There’s an overhead light. You’ll find it.’
I told the others what he’d said.
‘Bugger that,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t let him call all the shots.’
We got out of the car and approached the boom gate. Frank and I ducked under it.
‘Shit,’ Townsend said. ‘I need a backup battery. Hang on a minute.’
He returned to the car, not moving any more quickly than he had to. I heard Frank give an exasperated chuckle.
‘He’s dancing to Gregory’s tune. Doesn’t want to upset him.’
‘He’s going okay though, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I don’t know,’ Frank said. ‘There’s a lot I don’t like about this.’
Townsend took his time. He rejoined us without speaking and we walked down the gravel road. As my eyes adjusted to the shadows, I saw that the lights showing were mostly in cabins away to the left, towards the water. Gregory’s instructions were taking us in the opposite direction. A thick cloud obscured the moon just then and visibility dropped suddenly.
I hadn’t realised it, but Frank and I, tall men, were striding, and Lee Townsend was almost trotting to keep up. Typically, he made no protest. When we were well down the road, a light showed off to the right. A cabin stood in a space mostly set up for transients’ caravans and vehicles.
‘Has to be it,’ Townsend said.
We stopped as Frank extended an arm to keep us back. He appeared to be sniffing the air.
‘What?’ I said.
The quiet and stillness were blasted by the roar of an engine. A motorbike. No lights, just the shattering sound receding as we stood there, helpless in the dark.
21
The noise of the motorbike didn’t spark any alarm inside the caravan park. Perhaps the residents were used to hoons disturbing the peace at night. We ran to cabin number twelve. There were lights on inside and the front door was open. Townsend, the youngest and fittest, got there first and barged in. The cabin was a one-room job- a sitting space, a bed, a kitchenette. The television was on with the sound muted, a fast food ad showing.
Vince Gregory sat facing the television. His eyes were open but he wasn’t seeing anything. He wore a white shirt and the collar and shoulder on the right side were dark with blood. His left arm had flopped down beside the chair. I felt for a pulse but there was nothing. Townsend unzipped his briefcase and took out his recorder.
‘Don’t,’ Frank said.
Townsend froze. ‘Why not?’
‘Just don’t.’
Frank gestured for us to go outside and we did. He took out his mobile and stabbed the buttons. He gave his name, the location, reported the discovery of a body and agreed to remain where he was.
‘Jesus,’ Townsend said, ‘at least let’s have a look around. He was supposed to have evidence that-’
‘You really think it’d still be here, Lee?’ I said.
‘It could be.’
‘You go in there and start poking about,’ Frank said, ‘and you’ll leave fingerprints and DNA all over the place. We’re going to have a hard enough time explaining what we’re doing here without that.’
‘At least let me get a picture.’
‘No. The man was a police officer. Show some respect.’
‘Police officer my arse. He was a criminal.’
Frank took a step and loomed over him. ‘You’re a one-man court of law, are you? You’ll stay here and shut up until the police arrive. Then you can say what you like.’
In that mood Frank Parker could be pretty intimidating, but Townsend wasn’t cowed. He swore, swung away and made a call on his mobile. His voice was urgent, demanding-the little man with the big presence. From what I heard, I gathered he was contacting his lawyer. It looked as if I’d have to call on the services of Viv Garner yet again.
The uniforms arrived first, then the detectives, then the forensic team. By this time the caravan park was well awake with people in their dressing gowns and slippers taking an interest and the resident manager, hastily dressed, talking to the police. Frank and I said we’d make statements at the right time under the right conditions.
