the best hand we can, exert the most leverage. We don't need to give anyone ammunition, anything they can use to apply… opposite pressure. Shit, I'm talking like a physicist.'
'This tape is my professional property. I'm a working journalist. I don't have to make its contents available to anyone.'
I shook my head. 'That's what the book says, but you know and I know that the right judge in the right court can put you in gaol and the police can paint any picture of you they like with the cooperation of your press colleagues. Ever been busted for pot? Pros? Ever up on a DUI? Go through your accountant's work on your tax with a fine-tooth comb, do you? Make sure every claim is kosher? You know how it works.'
Sabatini turned off the recorder. 'Tell me off the record.'
I finished my beer: two lights in an hour. Probably all right to drive, but best to wait a while.
I said, 'When it's over. Maybe. But don't worry, you'll get your story.'
He had to be content with that and we got down to planning how to draw Richard Malouf out into the open and what to do after that.
'Why not tell the police that he's still alive, wait for his call and get them to trace it?'
'No,' I said, 'from what I've been told about him and from what he said himself, he'd take very good precautions against that.'
'Then do as he says, broker a deal with the police.'
'They wouldn't be in it. That's one of things worrying me. He's not playing the game he says he is. He can't really imagine the police would let him go, even if the business he's involved in is huge and he's in the clear on the two deaths.'
'Why not?'
'Too hard to cover up. Too many favours to call in at too high a level. No, we need to get hold of him ourselves and dictate the terms.'
'How?'
'How d'you squeeze information out of people who don't want to give it?'
He looked uncomfortable. 'I wouldn't put it quite like that, but one technique is to put pressure on someone else, someone the subject cares about. Who does Malouf care about?'
'On the face of it, only himself, but I'm wondering. Houli told Rosemary that Malouf wasn't his real name, remember? If we could find out what his real name is, who he is, we might get somewhere.'
'Jesus, that's a big ask, but…'
'What?'
'I remember when I was researching him, when I thought he was dead, I came across some anomaly, something that didn't quite fit. I dismissed it and I can't remember now what it was, but there was something. I'd have to go through my files.'
'Where are they?'
He reached into his pocket and took out a memory stick attached to his keys. I pointed to the overnight bag at his feet.
'Is your laptop there, your notebook, or whatever?'
'No, I left it with Rosemary. Anyway I'd have to go to my computer at home because it's all encrypted, the software…'
'Don't tell me, I wouldn't understand. Let's go.'
In the Coogee flat, Sabatini dumped his bag and went straight to the computer in his workroom. He had it up and running in a split second and began tapping the keys, wiping boxes and scrolling at a rapid rate the way they do.
'Here it is, look.'
On the screen was a photograph of a school soccer team. The boys looked to be about sixteen or seventeen and wore that confident expression that goes with private school and sporting prowess. The names of the players were listed at the bottom of the photograph. Sabatini pointed. A tall, dark haired youth stood in the back row and a smaller, less dark boy was in the middle row. According to the list of names the smaller boy was Richard Malouf and the taller was William Habib.
Sabatini put his finger on the boy in the back row. 'That's Malouf without a doubt, or the man we know as Malouf.'
I peered. 'They're alike, but you're right.'
'I sort of noticed it when I was working on this stuff but I just put it down to a glitch in the names. I should've checked. Now that there's some doubt about Malouf's identity…'
'When I've run up against a name change or confusion,' I said, 'I always check the dates. How do the dates we know about him stack up?'
Sabatini worked through his notes and his published pieces.
'The football photo is of their last year at school. If he did a four-year honours course at WA there's a three- year gap between leaving school and going to university.'
'I've heard of a gap year, but not three years. We need to find out more about William Habib. The starting point's the school.'
Sabatini sighed. 'I'll try. I need some coffee. Would you mind? The milk's probably off, though.'
'I'll leave you to it.' There was plenty of ground coffee in the kitchen but the milk smelt dodgy. I was glad to get out into the fresh beachside air.
Coogee is hilly, good cardiac exercise territory. I tramped up a few hills and finished at the shops in Clovelly Road. I bought the milk and a bottle of wine and some sandwiches. Who knows how long an Internet search takes? Could be hours, so I bought a paper as well and looked at the headlines on the way back. The news about the economy was good- things that should be up were up and things that should be down were down. The government was happy; the opposition was grumpy. The experts were puzzled.
Sabatini was clattering away, swearing occasionally and muttering to himself. He had some classical music I didn't recognise playing softly; no surprise there, I can only recognise 'Bolero' and a couple of Beethoven concertos, a bit of Tchaikovsky at a pinch. I made the coffee and took a mug and a sandwich in to him.
'Thanks,' he said, with his eyes on the screen.
'How's it going?'
'Takes time.'
I went out onto the balcony to drink my coffee and look at the water. Many times I've been tempted to move to the eastern suburbs, get a flat with a view, swim eight months a year. Something holds me back.
I heard Sabatini's printer chattering-a good sign. I finished the coffee, opened the bottle of wine and drank some with a sandwich. A greyish morning had given way to a bright afternoon. I read some more of the paper and dozed in the sun.
'We've come up with something.'
I jerked awake as Sabatini came out onto the balcony with a sheaf of printout in his hand.
'I got on to the school, Riverside Grammar. They have the students' outstanding results over the last twenty odd years and Richard Malouf is right up there. No sign of William Habib. Same for sporting achievements and there the position is reversed. Malouf OK at soccer; Habib good at everything.'
He flicked through the sheets. 'A Richard Malouf died in Cooktown Hospital in 1992. A drowning. The school has him listed as a departed old boy. A brief report in the Cooktown Courier says he was accompanied on the swim by an unnamed school friend who failed to save him.'
Sabatini held up another sheet. 'A Richard Malouf enrolled at the University of Western Australia in 1994.'
'I wondered about that,' I said. 'When you've been a star at a Brisbane private school why do you go to uni in Western Australia? It's a long way to go to get away from home.'
Sabatini went on. 'This Malouf didn't do so flash except at computer stuff. He was brilliant at that. But he captained the soccer team and was the opener for the cricket team; handy pace bowler, too.'
'Sounds more like Habib. Any trace of him and why the switch?'
'William Habib was charged in 1990 for assault with intent to do grievous bodily harm. He never appeared in court. Bail was posted and forfeited. This is the kicker-Selim Houli put up the bail.'
We talked around that for a while. It looked as if William Habib had assumed the identity of Richard Malouf and had gone as far away as he could to gain his credentials using Malouf's school results to get him started. Then
