Albertson produced a syringe from the khaki anorak he was wearing. He made a show of removing the little orange cap off the needle tip and laying his weapon on the table.
Sasha took a deep breath. He’s trying to intimidate you. Find out what he wants and get closer. ‘Do you mind if I sit?’ she asked, pointing to the plank seating.
Albertson smiled at her again, his hands clasped serenely in his lap. ‘Be my guest.’
This was no courtroom. It was pointless pushing him. ‘What do you want, Albertson?’
Albertson shook his head. ‘Please, call me Avery. I can promise you one thing.’ He looked down at the syringe. ‘No one need be harmed here.’ His voice was without expression. ‘You’ll both be traded, as no doubt you already know. You’ll join Tyler in readiness for the police visit. I expect they’ll be here any minute. I’m sure you let them know where you were headed.’
‘You and Fowler were in this together?’
He looked surprised at her question. ‘Of course.’
She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Why Fowler? I mean, why would he join in with killing the jurors in your father’s trial?’
He sighed. ‘You mean, other than our relationship?’
She nodded.
‘The first victim was also his. That pervert changed his life.’ He paused, apparently seeking a reaction. Sasha gave him none.
Through the one window, Sasha saw another lightning flash. Albertson asked, ‘You know what happened to me?’
‘The abuse in England?’
He gave a false laugh. ‘Understatement of the year. The four killings were for both me and my father.’
Sasha sat on the plank, slightly more than an arm’s length from him, from giving the sensitive microphone every opportunity. ‘You were very convincing. How did you hold down a job in the hospital while you were…’
‘On a killing mission?’ he interrupted, his tone celebratory. ‘Not that difficult. Freddie was enormously helpful with the details and setting it up. And I’d been a police informer in the UK before I started studying medicine. I knew what it was like to deceive. I was good at it, knew how to partition it off my mission for justice from my day to day job.’
He seemed to enjoy confiding in her.
‘Nothing can change what happened to you as a boy, Avery.’ Sasha softened her tone. ‘I’d like to help you if I can. What’s done is done. I’m not a QC for nothing. I could negotiate a solution with the authorities.
He smiled, less lop-sided this time. ‘In the painstaking research we did after I discovered my mother was alive, I’ve discovered enough about you to know that when you make that offer you’re quite genuine.’
That chilled her but she worked at not showing any reaction.
Albertson continued, ‘But we both know that won’t happen, Sasha.’ He looked resigned. ‘I don’t mind now what happens to me except that I have no intention of going to prison.’ He paused, waiting for her to respond. ‘You know, despite differences in our upbringing we’re quite alike.’
Sure. Psychopathy oozing from my every pore. Feigning curiosity, she said, ‘How so?’
‘We’re both hard-working professionals. We’ve both had to overcome the lack of fathers in our lives and we’re both powerfully motivated by our sense of justice.’
‘You’d accept,’ she said tentatively, ‘that my take on justice is somewhat different to your own?’
His eyes were dark with malevolence. ‘I’m less interested in the games you lawyers play in court for your amusement. True justice must sometimes fly in the face of the law.’
Tilting her head, she said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, for the moment, if we agree to disagree.’
Albertson nodded as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. ‘Dench’s death was the one count on the indictment I thought was strongest,’ said Sasha. ‘How’d you pull it off?’
Albertson smiled. ‘There’s almost a compliment in there.’ He told her how he’d killed Dench. ‘When he was dead, I contacted Freddie, who was outside the Thomas house. He rang Thomas and told him to look at the documents in his letter box.’
Sasha thought out loud. ‘So that was the phone call that led to his driving rage?’
Albertson laughed. ‘It took a little bit of persuasion from Freddie to send Thomas off to Dench, but with that done, he dumped Apsley’s phone in Thomas’s bin, broke the shed lock and planted the needles, syringe and sux. He put the same type of lock back with a new key in it, both suitably weathered of course, unlocked. You know the rest.’
‘And Christine Thomas? I assumed Fowler’s visits were to gather Thomas’s identity requirements, but how did you turn her against her father so strongly?’
‘We’d been watching her. And watching her father and Fiona Tuck for some time. Truth be told, she didn’t need a lot of turning. He was still controlling her life, as you know. Freddie forged that will, and she didn’t stop to think that it would be unenforceable. She became a time bomb waiting to go off.’
Sasha shook her head.
‘Oh dear.’ Albertson feigned disappointment. ‘It’s in your eyes, Sasha. You think I’m a psychopath, don’t you.’
She turned her head away, stared out into the darkness.
‘It’s okay. I’m not offended by you thinking that. I’ve lived a dual life, putting aside appalling things that happened to me. I had to. I’d never have survived otherwise.’ He leant towards her, his eyes wide. ‘But I never forgot, and I never doubted the day of reckoning would come. I didn’t quite know how.’ He sat back, arms folded in satisfaction. ‘Finding my mother was the beginning of the end.’
‘But you’ve poisoned yourself, Avery.’ Her tone was a mix of sympathy and frustration.
A slight shrug. ‘You’re probably right. People who lose family at the hands of another – they talk about their life sentence. In the end, most die of broken hearts. The difference between me and them? I did what they’ve longed to do. We pretend we live in a civilised society but it’s nothing more than a concept in our minds. The Old Testament got it right.’ He looked at Sasha’s impassive face. ‘Enough of my explanations.’
Sasha said nothing.
‘When you approached the hut,’ Albertson said, ‘you would’ve missed Tyler. It’s a short walk away. I’ll take you there now. Put your car keys on the table.’
She didn’t move.
Albertson picked up the syringe.
She shuddered slightly, aware of the potency of what was inside it. . ‘I don’t want to have to inject you with this.’ His tone was sorrowful. ‘For one thing, I’d have to drag you there in the dark when I need a free hand for the lamp. Either of us could get injured. For another, you already know there’s a risk of your respiratory failure. No sense in you being collateral damage at the eleventh hour. You’re a valuable hostage.’
Sasha remained silent. Play along until it’s safe, until you know where Ben is.
‘Follow me,’ he commanded. ‘Leave your torch, you won’t need that. Let’s see how your partner’s doing.’
The rain had eased and the howling wind was sweeping away some of the low cloud, allowing the intermittent appearance of an eerie moon. Its faint light caught the flash of moisture on the thrashing leaves of the trees.
Albertson had to yell, ‘Not far now.’
Sasha reached into her jeans pocket, feeling for the stone, making sure the sharp edge was to the fore. She could surprise him if she moved fast enough – a blow to the temple or to his chiselled nose. A caravan was in sight now, its grey metal rim reflecting the moon’s light. Albertson directed the beam of his lamp to a tin device encased in plasticine. From it a wire ran underneath the caravan.
‘Take judicious note.’ As Albertson placed the lamp on the ground, his eyes held those of his hostage.
Just unlock the bloody door, Avery.
‘Once you’re inside, if the door’s opened without a key, this whole thing goes up.’
Sasha nodded, her grip on the stone tight,
yet comforting.
Albertson was keeping a wary eye on her. Was he seriously expecting her to make a run for her car keys? From here? In the dark? Abandoning Ben? She didn’t even have enough sense of direction and he was the one with the lamp.
She shouted at the door. ‘I’m here, Ben, I’m here.’
Albertson turned the key, opened the door outward and picked up the lamp. ‘Get in,’ he barked, the syringe poised for action. ‘Turn right and move to the back with Tyler.’
Sasha climbed up but didn’t immediately find Ben, who was pressed against the wall, the other side of the entrance. Realising what he was doing, she put her arms out as if to embrace him.
Albertson held the lamp out in her direction as he followed. His struggle to understand why Sasha was trying to hug someone who wasn’t there gave Tyler just the time he needed. He swung a coffee mug into Albertson’s head, so hard that it disintegrated on impact, and immediately crouched for his next strike. Albertson screamed in pain, dropped the lamp and, off balance, flailed wildly with the syringe. Tyler drove the heel of his hand into the anaesthetist’s nose, causing it to pop. He felt the resulting spray of blood on his cheek before Albertson dropped to the floor, still clutching the syringe.
Sasha pushed her stone into Albertson’s wrist, forcing him to release the syringe. She grabbed it while Ben held his forearm across Albertson’s neck, pinning him to the floor.
‘Kick him in the balls, Sash. Then give him a jab.’
Albertson, reacting to the threat, pulled his knees up, dislodging the caravan key from his trouser pocket.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Sasha shouted, ‘while we can.’
****
Albertson grabbed a tea towel to help stop his bleeding and ran ice cold water from the sink tap to ease the pain and bruising to his wrist. He knew Sasha would stay until the police arrived but he wasn’t waiting. Plan B. He climbed onto the sink bench, and pushed at a ceiling panel with his good hand. It was stuck. He pummelled it with the heel of his hand until it gave way, then reached up, feeling around until he had what he needed.
****
In the hut Sasha pulled back from their embrace. The pale blue shirt she’d bought Ben for his birthday was filthy, his eyes were red and sore and he was shivering uncontrollably. He’d limped all the way back from the caravan.
‘What happened to your foot?’
‘Rolled my ankle when he took me out there.’ He nodded towards the caravan.
Sasha grabbed the chair Albertson had been sitting in, trying not to look at Fowler’s body, and took it nearer to the gas heater. ‘Sit down, Ben.’ She removed a blanket and sheet from one of the bunks. The blanket she wrapped tenderly around Ben’s shoulders. The sheet she threw over the body.
‘God, I thought it was all over, Sash.’
She held his head in her hands. ‘It nearly is. You got my message?’
Tyler shook his head. ‘I had a call at the office. Albertson left me a phone message when I was at the water cooler. He said he had important information about the police conduct of Thomas’s trial. That through one of his patients, he knew where Fiona Tuck was. He wouldn’t discuss it over the phone but said he’d meet me in his car outside the building.’
‘Why didn’t you call Black?’
‘As if. Story first, Sash, police second.’ He gave a weak smile. ‘How did you know I was here?’
She filled him in on the detail: from Dorothy Fulton’s visit to the message she left him, to discovering Albertson had murdered Thomas.
‘Jesus Christ. Ron’s involved? Surely not.’ He looked as appalled as Sasha had felt.
‘The smell of gas in here is getting stronger, Ben. I don’t like it.’
‘We need the heat, though.’
‘Still, I don’t think it’s right – wait.’ She stopped, holding up her hand. ‘Hear that?’ she said, anxious.
‘Hear what?’
‘Car engine starting.’ She ran to the door.
The BMW motor coughed again.
‘He’s trying to get away,’ Sasha shouted.
The rain had intensified again, and the wind was knifing round the corner of the hut. Albertson tried again, but still no luck. He got out and went to Sasha’s Audi.
‘Ah, shit! The keys. I’ve left the fucking keys in it.’ She dashed inside and grabbed the syringe from the end of the table. As she ran out the door, she saw Ben was up, hobbling and still clutching the blanket. He couldn’t help her even if he wanted to.
As she ran toward the Audi, the car’s lights came on. Damn – the bastard’s managed to get in. Just my bloody luck. She wrenched open the passenger door just as Albertson was reversing back from a copse of trees. When he stalled, Sasha jumped in. ‘You’re going nowhere, Albertson.’ She thrust the syringe towards him.
He held up his left hand. Sasha saw a black rectangular box from which a tiny red light pulsated. ‘That sux won’t move through my bloodstream as quickly as my thumb will mash the detonator, Sasha. You should’ve left me to it.’
She saw him move his hand over a button.
He spoke again, strangely calm. ‘We’ll move a safe distance from here. I suggest you sit back, relax and wait for the fireworks display I’ve arranged for the police. If those red and blues in the rear vision mirror are anything to go by, you won’t have long to wait.’
The gas. ‘Ben’s in there!’ she screamed.
‘No longer my concern.’
As the lights of the police cars got closer, Albertson moved the car forward in the direction of the river.
Sasha tried to make her voice sound reasonable. ‘There’s no way out of here, Avery. Not now the police have arrived.’
He stared straight ahead. Twenty metres from the river bank he stopped the car. ‘What are you waiting for? Out you get, unless you want a swim.’
She’d run ten metres back to warn Ben of the danger when she heard the first explosion, felt the air pressure in her chest, on her face, and dropped to the ground. No. Ben! Where are you?
Then another explosion.
‘Ben.’ Her call was lost in the roar of the fire, fanned by the force of the wind.
Three seconds after that, another explosion.
Sasha dropped her head. By choosing to go after Albertson she’d cost her partner his life.
Unable to look at the catastrophe she’d caused, she turned forlornly towards the river. The inferno had lit up the bank and the white water roaring beyond. The red eyes of the Audi’s lights sat like buoys just above the water line, the rest of the car submerged. Once the water hit the electrics, the faulty door would prevent him getting out, and even if he did, the current would get him.
Head bowed, tears on her cheeks, Sasha stumbled closer to the red and blue lights that strobed the tussocks near the hut. Black was out of the car and striding towards her.
A voice behind her said, ‘Did you see him?’
She spun around. ‘Ben!’ I thought…’ She ran and threw her arms around him, holding him tightly, sobbing.
‘I’m okay.’ He smiled but winced under the pressure of her embrace.
She felt the dampness on his back, and there was blood on her hands when she drew back. ‘Bits of wood hit me,’ he said. ‘Had to be twenty metres away when it went up but I still copped it.’
‘Are you two okay?’ Black asked, loud over the wind. He ripped off his police issue rain jacket and placed it around Sasha, then looked her in the eye. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No consolation to Trevor Thomas,’ she said, ‘but apology accepted in the spirit it’s offered.’
Sasha pulled out the Dictaphone and extricated the plastic bag from her jeans pocket. ‘You’ll be needing these, Rod. Inside the bag is a list of jurors from the 1955 trial of Albert-Fraser Clark, with up-to-date notations on those who are dead. It was on Albertson’s kitchen table earlier this afternoon. I think I know whose prints will be on it.’
****
In the weeks that foll
owed, scientists determined the heat had been at crematorium level but there was still enough bone material to identify a set of male bones in the ashes.
Police had dragged the river for days but found only Albertson’s anorak, ripped from his body by the torrent. The conclusions were inescapable: Fowler’s dead body had been consumed in the blaze and although Albertson had got out of the submerged car, he’d perished in the violent flow of the Waimakariri River, no doubt washed out to sea or ensnared in a tomb of branches.
Epilogue
Sasha accepted Mac’s advice that she needed to go and lie on a beach. He recommended an apartment on the Sunshine Coast, and Ben got special leave to go with her. Stipe, suddenly magnanimous, said they’d cover the news developments over the ten days, but he might like to think of a suitable feature story if he was up to it.
It was now day three of the holiday. Sasha’s black bikini was absorbing the heat of the morning sun as she lay on their apartment deck, facing a gleaming blue ocean. The neighbourhood crows were squawking and a visiting pair of kookaburras were laughing. Ben came out holding two tall glasses of OJ and ice.
He smiled down at her. ‘You finished The Lesson of Her Death already?’
The thriller was closed and sat on her bare skin. Sasha shook her head. ‘Not absorbing Jeffery’s clues this morning.’
‘What’s up?’
She turned her head to face him but he couldn’t see her eyes through her shades. ‘I’ll tell you, Ben, but you have to make a promise first.’
‘Confidentiality goes without saying, you know that.’
‘That’s not the problem. I mean, thanks, but it’s your reaction I’m concerned about.’
He shrugged, then frowned.
She pulled her shades down. ‘I need you to stay under control.’
‘You want us to split, is that it?’
‘Of course not. Christ, Ben, you’re not that insecure, are you?’
‘Well, a while back, you know…’
‘That’s partly what I want to talk about.’ She propped herself on her left elbow. ‘You remember when Niven was sworn in and Mac and I attended his posh after match?’ She saw him nod. ‘There’s no easy way to say this.’ She looked out at the sea, then back at his concerned face. ‘The bastard drugged and raped me, Ben.’