Alex Creighton scrolled through the article one more time. The photographs held him. Skinny, undernourished kids in the slums of Jo’burg, with eyes a million years old. Ellie always had magic in her photographs. She didn’t need words to convey the hopeless weariness in these African boys caught up in a life of desperation. Even her happy snaps taken years ago at uni parties were focused and framed, catching the essence of their careless freedom.
He touched the gentlest of fingertips to the tiny image of the photographer herself. It didn’t do her justice. Her unruly hair looked red instead of copper blond and was pulled back tight from her face. Ellie was half turned to the camera, her expression stern, with thick lashes emphasising the vivid blue of her eyes. No make-up hid her smooth skin. She could have been a nun. The photo didn’t capture the humour, the warmth in her. It couldn’t show the size of her heart, the depth of her compassion. She looked austere, aloof. It wasn’t his Ellie.
He hadn’t been the only one in their group at university in love with Ellie Wilding, but he’d come the closest to breaking through that composed exterior. He’d stayed in touch through the years when first Nina and then Ellie spent months at a time overseas chasing stories. Then when Nina died, Ellie came home and he was there for her at the airport, the funeral, right up to the military Board of Inquiry. But instead of sticking around, she’d fled back overseas, cutting everyone off. Alex had kept tabs on her, following her stories as she built her reputation. He was a patient man and Ellie was worth waiting for.
As far as he knew, she’d never had a steady boyfriend; no long-term commitment for her. But she was a very desirable woman with baggage he knew all about and understood. When she’d called out of the blue to say she was heading home his heart had soared. She’d called him first, invited him up to Half Moon Bay. She needed him. He also needed to make sure she never found out the truth about Nina’s story.
‘What’s that?’ The touch on his shoulder made him start.
‘Just some research,’ he replied, closing the browser and turning with a smile.
‘On AIDS in Africa?’ The pretty brunette pouted her glossy lips. ‘Tell me you’re not being sent there?’
‘No, Teisha, I’m heading up to the coast to do a perfectly respectable story on a property development.’
‘So why can’t I come too?’
‘Because I’ll be busy working and there’s no five-star resort.’
She pulled a long face and flicked painted nails in his direction. She had some new crazy design with sparkles. ‘So where are you staying?’
‘The pub. It’s a relic from the 1950s.’
She frowned. ‘So I can come up when you finish and we can go some place else. Like Byron Bay.’
‘We’ll see. I’ll only be gone a couple of days.’ Teisha was precisely the reason he was happy to get out of town.
‘You make sure Daddy Bear doesn’t forget his princess while he’s away.’ She trailed a finger down his shoulder and leant in to leave a wet touch on his ear with her tongue.
‘No danger of that, babe,’ he replied, pushing back on the casters. He stood up, putting distance between them. The journalist in the cubicle next door did nothing more than glance their way. Everyone on the floor was used to Teisha’s antics.
Her mobile phone piped out a cheery tune. ‘Sammie,’ she mouthed. Her best friend, joined by the invisible umbilical cord Telstra provided with free texts and calls. A godsend.
He waved at her, then headed out through the swing doors and down the corridor to the men’s room. He needed a breather.
He sluiced water on his face and peered in the mirror, seeing the first flash of silver at his temples, a few crow’s feet around his eyes, even white teeth, and a clean-cut face. He ran his hand along his jaw. No sag there yet. He stayed fit, played squash, rode his bike with a pack of mates every Saturday morning when he was home, sweating out the alcohol from Friday night. Teisha was never good in the mornings, burying her head under downy pillows until the sun stopped streaming through his sheer curtains. She wanted blinds. He wanted his townhouse back.
A momentary lapse of good sense, and three months later he’d become Daddy Bear. What on earth had he been thinking? His idiot ego had been stroked, along with other things, and now he was having problems disentangling himself. He didn’t want to hurt her and he sure as hell didn’t need the hassle it was going to cause in the office. An editorial assistant could do a lot of damage if she set her mind to it. For all Teisha’s little-girl antics, a shrewd woman loitered behind the Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses and lip gloss.
He looked up at his face again and shook his head. ‘You’re a bloody idiot. Just man up and tell her it’s over.’
The door to the outside opened. ‘You alright, hon?’
‘Teisha, it’s a men’s room, for God’s sake!’ He hustled her out the door.
‘I was only worried about you, hon. Sammie’s going to the Asian Laundry tonight. You coming?’
‘No.’ He tried not to sound dismissive, but a night in any club watching others snort lines of coke was not his idea of fun. He’d left that scene behind two years ago. ‘I have to sort some stuff out before I head off tomorrow.’
‘I see. Wait up for me?’
‘No, babe. Why don’t you sleep at your place tonight? I’ll need an early start.’
‘Right.’ She drew the word out with her best North Shore accent. ‘Something you’re not telling me?’
‘Just need some time, Teisha. Don’t read anything into it. It’s just another assignment.’
‘Are you sure? Have I done something wrong?’ She was doing haughty now.
‘I’ll call when I get there tomorrow. Okay? It’s not you, it’s me.’ Oh, how he cringed at that corny line.
‘You’ve done something wrong?’ Her voice was sharp.
‘No. I’m just a bit stressed with work. That’s all.’ He bent and kissed her, feeling the tingle in his own mouth from the ridiculous capsicum-infused gloss she wore to make her lips plumper. She opened her mouth and went to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back. ‘Whoa. Not here.’
Voracious wasn’t a wild enough adjective and it was time for her to be someone else’s sex kitten. There was no shortage of admirers and most of them younger and buffer than him. Would probably have more stamina, too . . .
‘So let’s go home now and then I’ll leave you to sleep while I go party.’
‘No, babe, you go and have fun. I’ll see you in a few days.’
She flounced back down the corridor without a backwards glance. All the way downstairs to the car park, he berated himself for his stupidity. He was far too old to be led around by his dick and he had more important things to worry about.
He needed to get to Half Moon Bay and ensure Ellie stayed focused on bringing down a corrupt council. That shouldn’t be too hard. Ellie was always the one with the bleeding-heart causes. A bunch of disaffected retirees would suit her down to the ground. He couldn’t allow her to go poking around in the mess Nina had uncovered. Some stories weren’t worth their high price. Last time it had cost two lives and it still had him waking up in a cold sweat at night when he considered what he’d done.
No, Ellie must never know the truth.
The wind swirled through the sliding doors of the council offices before they could close behind the elegant woman in a suit. Felicity blinked and dropped her gaze to the forms on the desk, her heart racing. It had to happen some time, but no matter how prepared she thought she was, facing Ellie Wilding was going to be difficult. Swallowing did nothing to alleviate the tightness in Felicity’s throat.
‘There you go, Mr Simpson. All paid for another six months.’ Felicity pushed the rates notice and receipt across the desk with a smile, praying she looked normal. She then took one last glance at her computer screen before raising her voice and looking to the head of the queue. It was mercifully short at this time of the morning. Rush hour was half an hour away.
‘Next, please. Oh my God, Ellie! You’re back early.’ She didn’t have to force the welcome into her voice, but hiding her sorrow, her fear, was hard.
‘Flick. Good to see you.’ Ellie reached across the counter to touch her friend’s hand and Felicity gripped it in both of hers.
‘You’re looking so well.’ Felicity searched the younger woman’s face for signs of grief. Ellie looked composed.
‘I am. It’s good to be back.’ The suit emphasised the length of Ellie’s legs and the curve of her waist. She’d even made an effort with her hair, smoothed it into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck. No sign of the teenage surfie chick, with tangled curls and zinc cream.
‘How long for?’
Ellie waggled her head. ‘Depends, I guess. I’d like to be here to see the development squashed altogether, but that might not be possible.’
‘Uphill battle?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ She propped her camera bag on the counter and Felicity had to smile.
‘Wow, that old bag still going?’
Ellie nodded. ‘You remember it?’
‘We all handed over precious cash to buy you that going-away present. It must have its own frequent flyer account.’
‘Now, there’s a thought. Do you think Qantas would come to the party?’ Ellie flicked at fraying stitching and the tarnished silver surfboard charm that hung from the side. ‘Been mended more times than I can remember. Too many memories to ditch it.’
‘Of course. I understand.’ And Felicity did. Nina had been home that summer before Ellie left to go to university. The crowd of them who’d hung around together had all known life would never be so uncomplicated again as they left their school days behind. None of them could have foreseen how much they would lose.
‘Nothing much has changed here either,’ Ellie said with a nod at the ceiling of the building.
‘A heck of a lot of restoration work, but the loos still sound like there’s a possum in the pipes and the heating’s just as erratic. Progress is only allowed to happen where the mayor deems it’s necessary.’
‘Like the town plan and Mrs Bell’s land, huh.’ Ellie shook her head and for an instant Felicity again saw the serious young woman who’d left behind a string of broken hearts when she’d headed for Sydney and her burgeoning career. That Ellie had been oblivious to all that adulation just added to her charm, unlike Nina. Felicity ignored the sudden jolt of pain.
‘Sarah and Mike growing up?’
‘You’ll have to drop round and see them. They miss playing with Shadow now your dad isn’t walking past every evening. How’s Tom doing? Have you heard from him?’
Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘Once in a while, I get a really huge email from an internet café, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.’ She shrugged. ‘At least he’s still in Australia, I guess, so he can’t get into too much trouble.’
Felicity laughed. ‘He said he was going to enjoy seeing how long it took you to track him down.’
‘He worked so hard to bring us up when Mum died, I guess he’s earned the right to regress now. But I’m holding him personally responsible for the grey hair I found this morning.’
‘Grey hair?’ Felicity snorted, back on safer ground and feeling her tension ease. Maybe Ellie was still Ellie. ‘I doubt that. You look great. Come round for dinner. It would make a change to share a bottle of wine instead of pretending to leave some for tomorrow.’ Felicity leant forward, compelled to ask. ‘How does it feel to be home again?’
‘Good, I guess. I feel as though I need to be here now.’ Ellie’s smile was a little too bright. ‘And thanks, dinner would be great. Don’t think I’ve gossiped for ages.’
‘Saturday, then. Dan’s heading out with the trawler on Friday and will be away until Wednesday, unless they pull in a big catch before then.’ Felicity hoped her smile held. ‘I’ll cook a roast, comfort food.’
‘Lovely.’
‘Okay, so what do you need from the council?’
Ellie’s voice dropped. ‘Is it possible to get into the main chamber to see what I need to bring on Monday for my presentation? Thought it would be prudent not to trespass. O’Sullivan might grab any excuse to have me ejected from the building and locked up.’
‘Our lord mayor would love the excuse. But I wouldn’t mind being locked up with the developer who breezed through here half an hour ago.’ Felicity waggled her head. ‘If all else fails, we could call for volunteers to seduce him.’
Ellie laughed outright this time. ‘Your man’s been away at sea too long! Just remember what that developer is doing, in tandem with our saintly mayor.’
‘Yeah, yeah, but there’s no harm in window shopping. And if you do see O’Sullivan, duck for cover. Mentioning your name just about gives him a stroke.’
‘Maybe that would be a good way of getting rid of him.’
‘Ellie, be careful what you wish for.’ Two people were now waiting patiently in the queue. ‘The doors are unlocked to the main chamber, so help yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow at the bowls club. We’ll all be there by four. I’ve got some spreadsheets for Ron too.’ She slipped the last line in triumphantly.
‘Really?’ Ellie frowned. ‘Don’t do anything that could get you caught, Flick.’
‘Of course not. The meeting will be fun. We’ll see you there and don’t forget dinner on Saturday.’
‘Thanks. Should be good. Enjoy your day now.’
Felicity watched Ellie go and called the next customer forward. Keeping the worry from her face wasn’t easy. If the protest against the development took up all Ellie’s time, maybe she wouldn’t uncover the other issues plaguing Half Moon Bay. Dan was already muttering about the ramifications of rocking the boat. The fishing industry was a tight-knit community. Piss one off, you pissed them all off. But she couldn’t turn a blind eye any more. Dan had been doing that for two years too long already. She needed to do something.
Ellie wasn’t in the mood to confront Lord Mayor O’Sullivan today. She kept her ears tuned for his voice as she strode down the corridor. O’Sullivan had been a councillor at Half Moon Bay for many years, but that didn’t mean he should now be running the show as the mayor.
The conversation from a nearly closed door had her feet tripping over themselves.
‘Of course, Lord Mayor, naturally we understand the difficulties. That’s why we’re more than happy to contribute to your campaign.’ She knew that voice. Nicholas Lawson. Heat washed through her cheeks.
She could hear the murmured response from the mayor, but the words were indistinguishable.
‘Absolutely, guaranteed,’ the first voice replied. ‘We look forward to working with you once the development’s underway.’
Pay-off from the developer. To be expected, of course. Money greased wheels the world over. She hesitated, wanting to hear more.
Footsteps echoed around the corner. She grasped her bag tighter and kept walking. Eavesdropping might be one of the original forms of espionage, but it was also one of the riskiest. Now was not the time to make such a basic mistake as to show her hand early.
The council chamber was empty and she resisted the urge to reminisce. Logistics was what she was interested in. The renovations had extended to this room. There were power points and cable connections in central points beneath the tables. She got down on her hands and knees to check what adaptors she needed and had to wiggle right under, cursing that she hadn’t thought to turn more lights on.
Just as she went to back out from under a table, she heard the main doors open with a swish, and lights blazed.
‘The chamber’s empty. We can talk here.’
‘Sure we wouldn’t be better off-site altogether?’ Lawson again with the Lord Mayor.
Ellie froze, her breath locked in her chest, her ribs tightening in shock.
Shit
, she said to herself.
My bag . . .
She could see the dark brown leather on a chair a couple of metres away.
‘No. I don’t want to be seen in public with you. Hard enough as it is.’ O’Sullivan waddled closer.
All she could see of the two men were shoes, O’Sullivan’s shiny, out-dated and about a size eight. Nicholas Lawson’s were elegant boots, expensive-looking, and at least size elevens. She could see he was leaning back against the table, in command.
‘So you’re sure that the shipment will be delivered next week?’ Lawson asked.
Ellie clamped her teeth tight, her breathing light and shallow. This was what a journalist lived for. The truth. It wasn’t altogether unexpected, but still it was shocking to hear it discussed in such a matter-of-fact manner. She could feel her blood pounding.
‘The ship’s coming past the Prom now.’
The Prom?
Ellie racked her brain.
Wilsons Promontory in Victoria?
‘So that’s four days’ steaming to here?’ Lawson again.
‘About that. They’ll adjust the time to suit, but the money needs to be transferred first.’
‘A ten per cent deposit, that’s as good as it gets. The rest is cash on delivery.’ The younger man’s voice had a hard edge to it. Ellie couldn’t quite pick the underlying sentiment but her anger was steadily rising. Nicholas Lawson was right at the heart of this. It proved that appearances don’t matter a damn.
‘We’ve always done it on good faith before. Legitimate electronic transfers for work done for the council. Easy to sweep under the counter, produce invoices.’ O’Sullivan was wheedling.
‘And the stakes have never been this high. We can arrange an escort on the trawler to take the remainder out to them in cash on the day.’
‘Jesus Christ, there’s that much paper money available?’ Ellie watched O’Sullivan’s feet do a little tap dance.
‘That’s the way to wash it, mate.’
Irony there
, thought Ellie, as she tried to ease the cramp tugging at her left calf. Laundering, washing, smurfing . . . Turning illegal money into something else was a difficult business and in those circumstances cash was king. It’s why the Asian casinos did it so well. But a sleepy council on the east coast of Australia? It seemed far-fetched.
‘Yeah, right.’ O’Sullivan’s shoes did another side step. ‘I’ll have to get back to you. The boys have never had anyone on board. Tongues would wag if they took a freeloader on a fishing trip. And your guard would need a strong stomach. Most people chuck their guts up first time out on a trawler.’
‘No problem. The guard would blend right in.’ Lawson crossed his ankles. Ellie knew with a stab of certainty he himself would hand-pick the delivery jock. Everything about those boots screamed ‘man in control’.
‘Right, right. Well there’s still this fucking stupid opposition to the development. They’ve got a rally tomorrow afternoon and bloody Ellie Wilding’s back in town. I told you about her already. She and her sister have always been troublemakers, even as teenagers.’
‘Yeah?’ Lawson sounded surprised. ‘They did some outstanding coverage on the war in Afghanistan before the older one died.’ Ellie’s ears pricked up. It sounded as though he already knew her and Nina.
‘Always happy, provided they’re peddling a cause. Parents were the same. Fuckin’ hippies. Be grateful Tom’s not here or he’d be beating the drum as well. Spent time in that fuckin’ tent embassy at Old Parliament House in the seventies when he was a journalist covering the blackfellas’ land rights.’
‘That right? Balls run in the family then.’
‘Ha. Bad politics run in the family.’
‘So you think you can get it through despite the objections?’
‘Bloody right I can.’ Ellie watched O’Sullivan’s pants jerk up his ankles and knew he must have heaved them defiantly over his vast stomach. ‘I’ve got the dirt on enough councillors to do whatever it takes. And I paid for half their campaigns. I own this shire.’
‘Okay.’ Nicholas straightened up. ‘Get back to me about the trawler ride and I’ll line up the cash. Good doing business, O’Sullivan.’
Ellie watched as O’Sullivan moved to shake hands. There was no doubt that Nicholas Lawson was in control.
The voices subsided as the two men went out the door and Ellie stretched her leg out, rubbing the cramp from her muscle. They never said drugs, but everything else pointed to it. Next week, four days. She didn’t have much time. Would it be better to just try to convince the authorities? Was it already on someone’s radar? It sounded like a sophisticated operation to be washing money via drugs and local government. None of it made sense. She’d need to learn more about money laundering as well as council by-laws. Big call in a few days.
She backed out from under the table, mulling over the choices. They needed to get the team together urgently. Maybe this afternoon? She felt a rush of air on her back as the door behind her opened again.
Oh, shit.
All she could do was rock back on her heels and scramble to her feet, trying to be graceful and failing in her haste.
The expression on Nicholas Lawson’s suntanned face was inscrutable. The blood pounded in her ears, sounding like the roar of the ocean. She broke the silence, her gaze sliding away from his. ‘Hello, again. You do get around.’ Her words fell flat in the big room and she had to stop herself wiping sweaty palms down her pants.
‘Normally hide under tables, do you?’
His voice rasped and her heart rate ratcheted up another notch. She reached for her leather bag. ‘What? Under tables? Oh, that.’ She gestured at the floor and the connection hub. ‘I’m just checking out the facilities for my presentation on Monday. I’ve forgotten to bring my cables, though, so I’m still not sure. Silly me.’ She was babbling and knew it.
His hard laugh had the fine hairs on her arms lifting.
‘Silly me,’ he mimicked. ‘Wouldn’t have been trying to eavesdrop, would you, because that could be very dangerous. And stupid.’ Nick leant back against a table and crossed his ankles again. Her fingers itched for her camera. His was a stern face; all angles and hollows, with a full bottom lip.
She tossed her head, embarrassment making her reckless. ‘Democracies are supposed to have open and accountable governance. Any discussions between developers and elected officials should be on the public record.’
He bristled, anger adding to his charisma. ‘You know nothing, Ms Wilding, nothing at all. Nor can you prove anything.’
Unsettled by her body’s unwanted response to him, she went on the offensive. ‘You won’t win. The community will stop at nothing to block this development. I will stop at nothing.’
‘You should be careful of issuing a challenge before you know the cost.’
She held his gaze. ‘I never issue challenges I’m not prepared to defend.’
He straightened up, moved a step closer, his broad shoulders adding intimidation to his considerable height. ‘Playing with fire could get you burnt, Ellie. You’re in the big league now.’
Tall as she was, with the added height of elegant heels, she was still forced to lift her chin. Up this close there were minute flecks of silver in his coal-dark hair, diamond pin-pricks of gold in eyes the colour of burnt mahogany.
‘We’re talking about democratic principles being ignored here and I’ll shout about corruption from the rooftops if needs be.’
‘You’ll regret it.’ His voice was flat, but she couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of her. Adrenalin had given her vocal cords a huge shot of courage and her volume rose. Caution had flown.
‘Regret it? Are you threatening me? No one’s going to let anything happen to me here in the council chambers.’ As if on cue, someone tried one of the smaller doors with a quick rattle. Ellie’s voice rose. ‘I’m going to make damn sure they hear all about your . . .’
Nick spun on his heel and grabbed her wrist, hauling her along after him, effectively jolting her into silence.
‘You have no freakin’ idea what you’re doing,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Don’t push it, Ellie.’
They made it to the main door just as it opened.
‘I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.’ The grey-haired lady’s cheeks were tinged with pink. Nick still had hold of Ellie’s wrist.
Ellie tore it loose. ‘I’m just leaving, Mrs Clarke. I don’t know about Mr Lawson.’ She didn’t try to hide the venom in the look she shot at him.
‘No need to, Ellie. I was just going to turn out the lights. I’ll see you at the club tomorrow afternoon.’ Mrs Clarke turned and closed the door before Ellie could respond.
Embarrassment made her lash out and she swung at Nicholas, her hand raised in frustration. Before she could work out what to do with it, both hands were caught in a hard grip, the handle of her bag squashed between her fingers.
‘How dare you,’ she snarled, twisting away from him. ‘Let me go, you arrogant jerk.’ But his long, lean hands held her, his thumb over her pulse, and she knew it was thrumming under his touch. Despite her anger, her edgy fear, she could still feel the heat of misplaced attraction. Without her camera to hide behind, her emotions were too close to the surface.
‘Oh indeed, I dare, Miss Ellie. I dare many things.’ He smiled, keeping her anchored, centimetres away from him for a moment longer, those dark eyes sweeping over her. ‘You could only begin to guess at it.’ When he released her, she staggered back against the table, words sticking in her throat as he continued to taunt her.
‘Be good to remember you have no proof of anything other than a campaign donation. You’d look a pretty fool if you tried making anything of that. Grow up and try living in the real world, not one ruled by meaningless headlines and Western platitudes.’
‘You’re despicable,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t care if you can buy and sell this town several times over. You won’t change my mind or my opposition to you and everything you stand for. I’ll do everything in my power to work out exactly what’s going on here. And I won’t stop until I find the truth, whatever the price.’
‘You do what you have to do.’ His easy arrogance ramped her anger up further as he continued. ‘May the best man, or woman, win. Some things are worth fighting for, but nothing is worth dying for.’ Without warning he ran his thumb down the exposed double seam of her bag, an odd expression on his face. He stalked off with undeniable grace and the double doors swung closed.
Ellie reached to steady herself on the table, her knees quivering. What the hell had just happened? Drug running, electoral bribery, money laundering? How much more was going on in the Bay she didn’t know about?
Nicholas Lawson had gone from confident with a touch of humour this morning to arrogant with too much attitude in the space of a couple of hours. And way too desirable with those angular cheekbones and carved-in-stone jawline. She tried to rationalise it away. It was the allure of the bad boy, the challenge of the unattainable. Hadn’t every woman felt that pull at some time? Nina had a habit of giving in to it. The thought of her sister brought Ellie’s heart rate back under control. She was being ridiculous. He was the enemy. She must never forget that.
Nina would have laughed at her. Her sister’s words echoed in her mind. ‘One day, Ellie, you’ll be run down by the overwhelming force of lust. I just hope I’m there when you fall from your high-minded principles and join the rest of us rolling around in the dark.’
Ellie felt the ache in her heart. Her sister had effortlessly attracted powerful men.
There was that niggle of recognition again, Ellie realised, trying to focus on the present. Something about Nicholas Lawson which she couldn’t pin down. Something to do with being left handed? Something to do with his watch? Could it be something to do with Afghanistan?
She steadied her frayed nerves and yanked the door open into the corridor. Her heels tapped on the polished boards making her feel more conspicuous in her guilt.
Just as she turned the corner to the foyer she realised she’d left her camera bag in the council chambers. Grinding her teeth she walked back to retrieve it. Would there be more nasty surprises lurking round corners for her?