The Labyrinth of Drowning

‘How often do you visit?’

‘Once a fortnight. I build up my flexitime at work and go before I come home.’

‘How do you pay?’

‘Cash.’

Doesn’t your wife notice the money? She must know.

‘What sort of an establishment is it?’

‘Well run. It’s got a lot of girls, a spa. It’s private.’

‘Private?’

‘You don’t have to walk in off the street. You’d know what I mean if you went there.’

‘Were there any other workers there from overseas?’

‘Oh yeah. I’ll tell you what, they’re beautiful girls. I know men who go there just for them. There’s an African girl-she’s out of this world. But you have to pay extra, a lot extra. Coco and the other girls, you didn’t.’ He looked away, his heavy body seeming to be weighed down. ‘Is that it? I should get back to work.’

‘One last question. Did Coco ever wear any jewellery when you saw her?’

‘She didn’t wear anything.’

‘No rings?’

‘Nope.’

She glanced at his left hand. He was wearing his wedding ring. Did he take it off before he visited? Not a question to ask.

‘Thank you, Doug. That’s all. You will have to wait until the transcript’s printed out because you have to read and sign it as an accurate record. But that won’t take very long.’

‘My family’s not going to hear about this?’

Grace shook her head. ‘No. That’s a promise. Shall I get Carol outside to get you a coffee?’

‘Yeah. White, one sugar.’

‘It’s on its way.’

Grace left quickly. She had another meeting, in a room much deeper into the centre of the building, where Clive was waiting for her. She’d already sent him a brief summary of her morning’s work.

In contrast to the noise outside-the aircraft flying overhead and the daily clamour of the city’s traffic-this room had a quietness that ate sound. Again there were no windows but this time the lights were muted. Grace sat down without speaking a greeting. The table was often bare; its function was to serve as a barrier between them, something to lean on. Today Clive had brought a folder with him; this meant he had plans of his own.

‘What did our informant have to say?’ he asked.

‘A bit more than he told the police. You didn’t have to wear a condom when you had sex with Coco. The brothel put out a teaser on the net for clients. Which means our informant also surfs the net.’

‘We’re not interested in his tastes. Are there any other workers there with that same job description?’

‘He didn’t know about them if there were.’

‘Is this man telling the truth?’

‘Oh, I think so. It’s cost him a lot to come forward. He’s the perfect informant for us. All he wants is complete secrecy, particularly from his family.’

‘His wife really doesn’t know?’

‘Of course she knows,’ Grace replied briskly. ‘She probably knows down to the last cent what he spends. And whatever he says, he probably knows exactly how much she’s prepared to tolerate. It’s the lack of a condom she won’t know about, and that’s what he doesn’t want her to find out. He’d be in the family court the next day.’

Clive smiled with scorn and turned his attention to her interim report.

‘It’s interesting what you have to say about Kidd from this morning’s meeting.’

‘There’s a possibility of corruption here,’ she said. ‘If Kidd was involved in this woman’s escape in any way, that’s a weakness we need to identify.’

Clive was looking at her distantly. He had a red-covered document in his hand. ‘Is it only that? I’d say you haven’t forgiven him for saying you were responsible for Coco’s death. In the meantime, read that. When she supposedly escaped, I decided we should follow your judgement and have a good look at this Mr Kidd. That’s what the finance people came up with.’

His comment had caught her off guard, wounding her a little. She flicked open the dossier on Jon Kidd. A single man in his late forties and a long-term employee with the Department of Immigration, based at their Parramatta offices. Once a wealthy man, his financial records indicated a constant and substantial drain of money over the last three years, including the sale of shares and investments, culminating in a 100 per cent mortgage on his house in Mosman, where he lived with his mother. There was also a large personal loan with his car, a Mercedes, as surety. Previously he had been a regular visitor to Thailand and Cambodia and, until recently, a generous donor to orphanages in Bangkok and Phnom Penh. Those trips had stopped in recent months, presumably due to a lack of funds.

‘Looking at his travel records, he mainly preferred the Cambodian orphanage,’ Clive said, ‘but he still spent time in Thailand.’

‘What did he do with these children from the orphanages?’ Grace said. ‘Take them away on holiday with him? Whatever it was, he doesn’t do it now. He’s almost bankrupt. He’s being blackmailed.’

‘Bled dry,’ Clive agreed. ‘I’ve directed our IT people to trace his computer traffic and, if they can, to hack into his own computer. I’ve also put out a “don’t touch” order on him just in case any other agency knows about his existence. The Thai woman’s escape was interesting. An act of desperation if ever I saw one, and Kidd was the person best placed to make it happen. I want to know if he is in fact responsible and what’s behind it.’

‘Does this mean we’ve decided once and for all that Coco is Jirawan Sanders, as the initials on her wedding ring would suggest?’

He leaned over the table towards her. Grace sat upright, preventing herself from drawing back. ‘Did you at any time tell Jon Kidd or the police that we were seeking a woman of that name?’

‘No, of course I didn’t.’

‘Then this is for you.’ He pushed a photograph across the table. It was sourced from Interpol and labelled as top secret. The Thai woman, Coco, was sitting at a table somewhere shyly smiling for the camera. The name underneath the image was Jirawan Sanders.

‘You had a photograph after all,’ Grace said in a neutral voice. ‘Why didn’t we just take her out of there? And why couldn’t you tell me you knew who she was?’

‘I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t be safe in Villawood. I didn’t want to broadcast just how interested we were.’ He smiled again. ‘This is the first significant job I’ve given you. I had no way of knowing I could trust you. I wanted you to prove that I could.’

‘I’ve worked for Orion for five years. You had no basis for assuming that I couldn’t be trusted with classified information.’

‘I wanted to know if you were competent. It’s turned out you are.’

Grace sat for a few moments not trusting herself to speak. You as good as killed her. Kidd had said that to her. Orion, via Clive, had as good as killed Jirawan Sanders by looking to finesse for advantage instead of acting in the most straightforward way. In that moment, it became crucial to Grace that she saw this through and found whoever had murdered the Thai woman.

‘Can we call her Jirawan in that case?’ she asked, her voice calm.

‘If you think that’s necessary. What I want you to do at the brothel tonight is to see if you can confirm our informant’s information. See if there’s anyone there who might have acted as this woman’s gaoler. And watch Kidd. See what he does. Does he know or is he known to anyone there? Any detail you can pick up. We’re already monitoring his phone calls.’

‘What’s our relationship with the police on this?’ she asked. ‘So far, they’re running it as a murder investigation with me as an observer. Are we going to bring them into this operation? They must be wondering why we’re still in there.’

‘Not just yet. If we’re watching Kidd, I don’t want them getting in the way. Right now, I want to know how you’re feeling about this job. My judgement is you’re emotionally involved.’

‘No, it’s just another a job.’