benefactors to help me along.’
‘I see. Perhaps you’d like to tell me who they are,’ Harrigan replied.
‘Mrs Yvonne Lindley. Do you know of her? She’s endowed my refuge very generously this last year. She’s actually my mother’s half-sister. I’ve known the family all my life, of course. I was an only child; her children were my true brothers and sisters, we played together when we were small. I went to school with Geoffrey but, as you can see, we’ve gone very different ways. He’s quite senior in the Premier’s Department now. I’m not sure if Elizabeth approves of me any more.
She calls me God’s anarchist. They are my only earthly family, Paul, my mother and father died some years ago. We are a support to each other.’
There was a useful family connection if ever there was one; it explained Fredericksen’s ability to open doors at the Family Services Commission. Yvonne Lindley was the aged widow of John Lindley, lover of horseflesh, sometime state politician and a cabinet minister for every portfolio going, including the police. He had died not long ago, leaving his family independently wealthy. Always a renowned political operator, Yvonne Lindley still had strings to pull. The preacher sat waiting but Harrigan did not speak.
‘You must understand, Paul,’ he continued eventually, ‘my refuge is of great importance to me. The children who come my way — they have no one. I offer them the only home they may ever have had. Greg is the perfect example. He has no one in this world, no one at all. He needs the most loving care or we will lose him. He is addicted to self-harm. He is on the edge. You must remember that. Because when you find him, you will have to approach him with great care. Anything could happen. Anything at all.’
‘Is that what you came here to tell me?’ Harrigan replied after a short pause. ‘That we need to find him? And we should be careful when we do?’
‘Yes. I would have come here sooner but I’ve been out searching the streets for him all night. I know the places he goes and I thought, arrogantly, that if anyone could find him, I could. By first light this morning, I understood that I cannot do this alone, I must accept help.
Greg’s welfare is paramount to me, Paul. I am very afraid for him.’
He spoke passionately while his face remained oddly blank of any expression of emotion.
‘Where did you lose him?’ Harrigan asked.
‘Very close to the refuge, within sight of safety. I’d just turned off Parramatta Road. I think he was waiting until then because it’s easy for him to get into the city from there. It was dark, so it would have been a little after six perhaps? I stopped at an intersection and he was out of the van and away before I could stop him. But the point here is Greg. He needs every care. All last night as I walked the streets looking for him, I thought, I have failed him. I have failed him and I cannot permit that failure to be continued by others.’
There was another silence.
‘Six o’clock, you say?’ Harrigan asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You’d bailed him by a quarter to three. What were you doing in the meantime? It doesn’t take that long to drive from Parramatta to Camperdown.’
Harrigan’s fingers tapped the manila folder on the table, which held a transcript stating that at 4:09 p.m. the Firewall had chatted online to Toby, to say that she had a friend in bad trouble and she did not know how to help him without getting herself in any deeper than she already was.
‘In many ways, Greg behaves like a normal adolescent boy, Paul, despite his unfortunate history. I took him to McDonald’s, then we went to an entertainment arcade, at his request, where he played video games. It was the release of a pressure valve for him, a time in which to think.’
‘Where were you at about four o’clock?’
‘I’m not really sure…’ The preacher paused, his fingers brushed against the folder once again. ‘I think the van was on the road between McDonald’s and the video parlour at that time. I was too busy thinking about Greg to notice the clock.’
‘I see,’ Harrigan replied. ‘Last night — did you go looking for him in the refuge van?’
‘No, someone else needed to use it. I had another car, one belonging to a member of my congregation.’
‘Yes, we had a bulletin out for your van last night but it seemed to be off the road. Why should you think Greg’s come to harm? He could just be out and about. He’s used to that sort of life, after all.’
‘Greg is a very wild young man. He takes appalling risks, his life is one of terrible recklessness. I have watched him often with my heart in my mouth. I have to say I am very afraid for him. Particularly if he is faced with a return to custody.’
The preacher’s insistence had been without emphasis. Harrigan sat in silence for a few moments, looking at him, unconsciously tapping his fingers on the table top.
‘You say you don’t think he’s involved in the shooting we’re making inquiries about?’
‘I am sure that will be revealed to be a mistake. I should be very surprised to discover that he was.’
‘Right.’ Harrigan put a light emphasis on the word. ‘Does the name
“the Firewall” mean anything to you?’
‘Yes, I’ve read about her — I understand she’s female? — in the paper today.’
‘Do you know anyone who uses that name?’
‘Know in what sense, Paul?’
‘Know of, Graeme. Or know personally. Take your pick.’ Harrigan sat back in his chair, apparently relaxing for the duration.
‘I find that in my line of work people often have more than one name.
I know of no one who has introduced themselves to me by that name.’
‘Let me ask you, is there anyone in this picture that you recognise?’
He took a photograph out of the folder and placed it on the table.
The preacher looked at the homeless boys in Belmore Park.
‘This was in the paper today but I have already seen it before in any case,’ he said. ‘It was taken some time before Greg came into my care.
I was quite angry that they chose to characterise him as they did.
Other than that, I can tell you nothing about it.’
‘Is there anyone else you recognise? Someone familiar to you?’
‘Other than Greg? I don’t think so.’
‘What about her?’
Harrigan pointed to the female figure shown only from the back.
‘It’s difficult to recognise someone from the back of the head, Paul.
Why do you think this is your killer? Because she’s talking to Greg? On first glance, that could be described as discrimination. Unless, of course, you have some other information — which I would hope you would pass on to us. If not to Greg, then at least to me as his guardian. He does have legal rights.’
The man spoke with a neutrality equal to Harrigan’s own, his eyes so pale as to seem sightless.
‘Just an inquiry, Graeme. You know of any friends of his who might be this girl?’ Harrigan asked.
‘Girls are the last thing Greg would talk to me about, Paul. You can’t force information out of your charges.’
‘No, that’s true,’ Harrigan said, returning the photograph to the folder and waiting a few moments. ‘You have something of an American accent there, Graeme. You’ve spent time in the States, I take it?’
The man’s composure was unruffled by the change of questioning.
‘My voice gives me away, doesn’t it? I have indeed, more than half my lifetime. I’ve come back only recently. I recommend that you visit there one day, if you never have. It is genuinely a land of great opportunity. Why do you ask?’
‘I’m just trying to place you. What brought you back?’
‘The realisation that this is home after all? It certainly had that feel about it when I was walking through the Sydney Terminal.’
‘You’ve always been something of a traveller perhaps?’
‘Yes, I have. I travel for God, I go where I am called. I feel that I am most useful where I can reach as many people as possible. There is no more wonderful sight in the world than the dawn as you watch it by the side of the road and you know there is another town a little further on where they need you. It’s like being in the new world to
