Page 26 of Hard Landing

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When he got home that evening, Gary turned on his computer and checked to see whether the fake Parliament House website was still live. It was. Vincent Drew said it would take the Government's computer technicians at least 24 hours to fix the problem. He was right as usual.

  Karen said she would turn up at 6.30pm. She knocked on the front door shortly after that, with her overnight gear in a small shoulder bag. They sloppy-kissed and sat on the couch.

  He felt guilty about not telling her that he had killed three people. But she wouldn't thank him if he did and every relationship had secrets, though not usually such dark ones.

  Oscar appeared out of nowhere and jumped onto her lap. She stroked him gently. "Hello, boy."

  "Jeez, how come the cat doesn't give me that sort of attention?"

  "Because he's not stupid."

  "Thanks. How was your day?"

  She smiled. "Great. We arrested the murderer of the old wino."

  "You mean, you didn't have to frame anyone?"

  She giggled. "Nope. This was a righteous arrest."

  "Congratulations. Who is he?"

  "Another wino. Seems they got into an argument over a packet of cigarettes."

  "How'd you catch him?"

  She looked a touch embarrassed. "He, umm, turned up to Surry Hills Police Station and confessed."

  "Because he realised the net was closing on him?"

  "Hah, I doubt that. He's almost a drooling vegetable. I think he wanted to sleep in a nice warm prison bed."

  He shrugged. "Well, at least that investigation's over. You must be happy about that."

  "And a half."

  "Because it must be draining to lock horns with criminal masterminds every day - always having to think three steps ahead."

  She growled. "Hah, hah. Very fucking funny."

  "What's your next assignment?"

  She stroked Oscar, who purred loudly. "I was going to tell you that. The Super wants to send me out west, to join the Bernice Drummond team. They're throwing a lot of resources into that investigation."

  Bernice Drummond was the wife of a cattle station manager brutally murdered at a homestead near Broken Hill about a week ago. Her husband was in town at the time and not a suspect. The murder had received saturation coverage, so Gary wasn't surprised the police top brass wanted to bolster the investigation team.

  He said: "When will you be going?"

  "Probably tomorrow - sorry about that."

  "Don't worry, I understand. How long will you be gone?"

  "Not sure. But probably at least three or four weeks."

  He had feared she would be assigned to investigate the beach-house shootings or the two deaths at the Drummoyne apartment block. So, while disappoint she was going away, he was relieved she wouldn't be on his trail. "Don't worry, I'll survive."

  "Good. I'll miss you."

  "Ditto." She rubbed under the cat's jaw and provoked a crescendo purring. "And look after Oscar."

  He tried to sound casual. "I will. You know, I read this morning that people keep landing in an empty swimming pool in Drummoyne. I thought you might get that assignment."

  "No, I dodged that bullet, thank God. Those deaths have got everyone walking around scratching their heads. Nobody's got a clue what's going on."

  "Maybe two people suicided in the same week."

  "Hah, I doubt it. But I bet they'll get nowhere and decide that's what happened. Those guys couldn't find a clown at a circus." She kept stroking the cat. "What are we doing for dinner?"

  "I bought some takeaway - Thai. That OK?"

  "Sure."

  "Good, I'll heat it up in my usual stylish manner. Then we can watch the news."

  "OK. I heard on the radio that Trewaley's in a bit of trouble."

  "It looks like we both pay more tax than him."

  He went into the kitchen and microwaved two bowls of the takeaway. Back in the living room, he gave a bowl to Karen and sat next to her, just in time for the start of the ABC Evening News.

  After the credits had rolled, the female news announcer said: "The Leader of the Opposition, Angus Trewaley, today denied explosive allegations posted on the internet that he is a tax cheat who has hidden millions of dollars worth of assets and income in overseas tax havens. Yesterday evening, a hacker seized control of the Parliament House website and posted the allegations. The hacker also attached 200 documents concerning Mr Trewaley's financial affairs. Those documents come from an accountancy firm called Merton & Co. The principal of that firm, Mr Robert Merton, died in suspicious circumstances at his beach house a few days ago.

  "After an election rally at the Paddington Town Hall today, Mr Trewaley denied the allegations posted on the internet ..."

  The program televised Trewaley's entire curbside press conference, during which he had a guilty sweat and raspy voice. The news announcer then interviewed the ABC's Canberra Political Editor, Matthew O'Rourke.

  She said: "Matthew, will today's developments affect the election?"

  O'Rourke had the standard billboard forehead and blank stare. "It's too early to say. However, the onus is now on Mr Trewaley to make full disclosure of his tax affairs. If he doesn't, his campaign will suffer serious damage. His association with Robert Merton, who was shot dead in his beach house a few days ago, also needs to be explained."

  "Thank you, Matthew."

  The news reader moved on to the next item, about heavy storms and flooding in outback Queensland.

  Gary turned to Karen. "What did you think of that?"

  "Trewaley looked guilty as hell. But I'll still vote for him."

  Gary knew she was, like most cops, very right-wing. But he was shocked. "You're kidding?"

  "No, I'm still going to vote for him."

  "Why?"

  She shrugged. "I've always voted Conservative."

  "But he's a tax cheat."

  "So what? All politicians are dodgy."

  "Not many have millions in tax havens."

  She yawned. "Really? I wouldn't be surprised."

  Now that he had $200,000, thanks to the stupidity of Oliver Bristow, he could afford to rent a good apartment that they could share. But first, he had to find out if she was interested. He was nervous about doing that. So, when the evening news ended, he yawned and said: "You know, while you're away, I might look around for a better apartment than this one."

  Her eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

  "Let's face it, this place is a tip. So I thought that if I found somewhere better we could, umm, try living together for a while - just a while."

  He held his breath until she smiled and nodded. "I'd like that, I really would. But how would you pay for it?"

  "Don't worry, business has been quite good recently."

  "Really?"

  Why mention he had a huge one-off spike in revenue? "Yep."

  "OK then, have a look around. I trust your judgement."

  "Great."

  She stood up. "Alright then, let's go to bed."

  "It's a bit early."

  She smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not sleepy."