

A Tisket, A Tasket

Book 2 of the Louie Breccia Chronicles

By

Alex Focus

Smashwords edition published in 2015 by Alex Focus, Killing for Pages. Copyright © Alex Focus 2015. Smashwords Edition License Notes:

This eBook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

For Ady, Jimmy and Johnny.

A-tisket a-tasket

A green and yellow basket

I wrote a letter to my love

And on the way I dropped it

I dropped it

I dropped it

And on the way I dropped it

A little girl picked it up

And put it in her pocket.

# Chapter 1

The sand on the vast crescent shaped beach was almost white, fine and silky smooth. The sea breeze was refreshingly cool and the sun was resplendent and warming. The sea was a transparent blue-green and so clear that I could see the sandy bottom metres below the surface.

I had my back to a palm tree and a straw hat shaded my eyes from the brilliant sun. I was sucking on a cocktail in a fancy glass with a mermaid swizzle stick and a slice of orange on its rim, complete with a tiny umbrella. I turned toward a movement in my peripheral vision and I saw Maria emerging from the crystal, sky-blue water. Her body was a deep bronze, and her skin was covered with droplets of sea water that were like pearls on satin.

She saw me ogling at her and she fixed her eyes on mine. A small and mischievous smile crystallized on her face. As she walked toward me, her whole body swayed to a silent, primitive drum beat. The closer she approached, the more beautiful, the sexier, and the more irresistible she became. Then her hand went behind her and her smile widened with promised mischief as she slowly undid her bikini top. In slow motion, she allowed her firm, brown nippled breasts to come free.

My heart thumped in my chest, my excitement mounted with the expectation of heaven coming to earth. Then her fingers were at the small bows that had held her bikini bottom onto those lovely silken hips. She untied one bow and part of the bikini bottom swung down to reveal her...

"Woof, woof."

"Woof, woof."

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed irritated, and coming awake. The dream, the promise, the vision, the sand, the sun and the sea disappeared in an instant. But, the infernal noise remained, and seemed to be getting louder. "Shut-up, Roger!" I screamed, and the ugly dog by my side whimpered.

"Woof, woof."

"Shit!" I shouted. "Fucking phone! I'm sorry boy," I apologised to Roger. Stirring from my lounge, I glanced at the clock on my desk with a bleary eye \- it was only ten minutes past two in the morning! I had been asleep on my lounge for about three hours. The movie I had been watching was long finished, the screen totally blue.

"Woof, woof," the phone reminded me.

Reaching for my vibrating and barking mobile phone, I asked the walls, "who the fuck phones at two in the morning?"

"This had better be good!" I growled at the caller.

No answer.

"Hello? Who is this?" I asked harshly, my irritation mounting.

"Mr. Breccia?" A faint voice, a little girl's voice asked. It was full of tremor and fright.

It was like a jolt of electricity had just hit me – suddenly, I was fully awake.

"Yes, Sweetie," I answered, as softly as I could. "This is Louie Breccia. Can you tell me your name, Honey?"

"Carly," she said. Her voice now, seemed a little stronger; but still scared and uncertain. "Carly Reece," she added.

"Nice to meet you, Carly. It seems pretty late for a little girl to be still up," I remarked.

"I am not a little girl. I am almost twelve," she informed me with some indignation; momentarily forgetting her fear.

"Sorry, Carly, my mistake. Tell me Carly, how can I help you?" I asked. At that moment, the thought occurred to me that this might be a crank call. But immediately rejected the idea - there was real fright in the little girl's voice.

"It's my parents..." she said, her voice trembled, and then all her twelve year-old control, dissolved and the sobs started. For a moment, I was struck dumb. 'Shit! What do I do now?' I asked myself, 'where is Maria, when I really need her?'

"I am sure they are okay," I said, nonsensically, trying to reassure her. "Please, Carly, tell me where you are." I was really bad at this. She did not answer but continued to cry in my ear, the sound of her misery tearing me apart. And then, "Click" the line went, followed by nothing but silence.

"Carly, please tell me where you are...I'll come and help you right now. Carly? Carly?" But I knew that I was talking to no one.

I got up from the old lounge and tried to think, 'think, think you idiot' I kept repeating. Then, the words 'caller ID' flashed through my mind. I went back to the phone and looked at the 'calls received' screen, but it had been a 'Private Number'.

"Fuck!" I said out loud. I speed dialed a familiar number. The phone rang and rang and then rang out. I redialed another familiar number, but this time it was answered after the second ring.

"What!?" He shouted at me.

"Wake up Steve, and please get your ass down here now, and make sure you bring Maria with you," I said.

"I... I don't know where she is," he tried, his voice dripping guilt like wax from a candle.

"Don't bullshit me, I know she is there, with you," I was annoyed at his lame attempt to cover up what we all knew was going on.

"She isn't ... really," he tried a little harder.

"Will you cut the bullshit, you dumb ass? I know she is there because I rang her flat, not yours! Now get your asses over here. We have more important things to worry about than your love life!" With that I metaphorically slammed down the phone. I couldn't actually slam it down – it was my mobile.

Steve was (and is) my best friend. Maria was the first girl since Sonia, that I thought I could actually fall in love with. As luck would have it, she liked me well enough, and we were great friends, but it was Steve whom she loved.

I needed to get over it. 'What the fuck,' I told myself, 'what doesn't kill you makes you wish it had...'

I shelved the pseudo-suicidal thoughts running through my head and tried to focus on the present problem – finding that little girl. I logged onto the Sydney White pages site down and looked up 'Reece'.

"Shit!" I Mumbled, there were thousands of them. I needed my phone records to trace the call. But only a cop would be able to get them, and even a cop would need a court order to get the silent number from the telephone company. There was no time for all that bullshit. I needed that information now, five minutes ago would have been better.

"Henry!" I shouted at myself, mentally slapping my forehead. I picked up my mobile and speed dialed. Even though it was almost two thirty am, it was picked up immediately.

"Sorry to ring so late, Henry," I apologized.

"No problem, Louie, I wasn't asleep. I figure that it must be urgent... how can I help, Mate?"

"Thanks, it is pretty urgent..." I then described to him what had just happened.

"Give me five minutes," he said confidently, and the line went dead.

Henry was an ex-army intelligence computer whiz. I had met Henry during a complicated case a few months ago. If the information was available in any database in the world, Henry would find it.

Next? While I worked on this question I lit up a smoke and absentmindedly walked to the fridge. I extracted a 'V', and in one motion opened the can and took a long drink. I replaced the volume lost with some Jack Daniels - the mixture always helps to kick-off the rust from my brain cells. I paced the room, my walking stick making a periodic noise on the floor. It's a small room and it was more like going around in circles. Soon I had to stop, I was making myself feel dizzy.

The phone barked twice more.

"Hello?" I said, expecting Henry. But it wasn't.

"Mr. Breccia?" The same little girl voice, but now barely a whisper. "Please come, come quickly..." And then the line went dead again. I did not have time to say anything to her.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I shouted at the ceiling.

"Who are you fucking with now?" Steve's voice asked me from the doorway; his tone was light and ready to joke around in our usual fashion. I gave him one look and his expression changed right away. He knew instantly that I was not in the mood, and that something very serious was happening.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"What's wrong Louie?" Maria asked coming up behind Steve, concern showing in her voice. I was about to explain, when my mobile barked at us.

"Yes, Mate? What have you got?" I asked.

"The call was placed from a residence in Dover Heights belonging to a Dr. Robert Reece, here is the address," Henry dictated the address carefully. And then repeated it, "sounds like this is the right place, Louie."

"Thanks Henry, do you have a phone number?" I asked, and he read it out, "thanks Henry, thank you very much," I said.

"Need any help?" He asked.

"I should be okay. Steve and Maria are here now. But I will let you know how it goes down. I got a bad feeling about this," I said.

"Me too, Mate. Keep in touch and good luck Louie."

"Will do."

I put my mobile into Steve's hands, gave him the paper with the address on it. I punched in 'phone divert' on my land line. Then, without explanation, I headed for the door.

"Let's go!" I shouted behind me.

# Chapter 2

They did not bother to ask where and why, they knew me too well, they just followed me to my car. Doris II was parked in her usual spot. Faithful as ever, she started right away. I gave Steve just enough time to jump in and shut his door after letting Maria sit between us on the front bench seat, and then I was barreling out of the parking area with a screech of tires.

Driving toward the Eastern Suburbs with little regard to speed limits, I explained the situation. I had the meager satisfaction of noticing that their concern was mounting to a level at least equal to mine. Steve tried to ring the number of the house phone, but it was never answered. A quick call to 'service difficulties' informed him that the phone was out of order or unplugged – not good news, it had been working perfectly well not even an hour ago.

Hughie, the minor god of wind and traffic was good to us and I was driving down the right street address in less than fifteen minutes, we all searched for the house number.

"There it is!" Maria shouted, pointing to a two story, cement-rendered brick home, which was preceded by an immaculately tendered front yard. In the bright moonlight I could see that the front lawn was perfectly cut - as if by a razor and not a mower. Flower beds, sporting coloured blossoms, flanked a paved path which snaked its way from a small front gate right to the front door. A gate-less driveway was on the right of the house and was decoratively paved right up to the doors of a two-car garage.

I drove straight up the driveway and parked not far from the front door. For a few moments, we sat there unsure of what to do next. We were not certain that this wasn't some sort of trick, or even if this was the right house. Whoever lived here could be completely innocent and would not be too happy to be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. On the other hand, the little girl could be in real trouble while we procrastinated just a few metres away from her.

"How about if you go and knock loudly? If anyone answers, show them your badge and act like a cop would at this hour of the morning," I suggested to Steve.

"Hei, I am a cop!"

"Well, go do your thing."

"OK." Steve nodded and as if it had been a signal, we all got out of the car at the same time. We left the doors ajar to keep the noise down to a minimum. As we moved toward the front door, a motion sensor switched on a spot-light automatically and illuminated us like a beacon from a hovering helicopter. Steve turned and looked at us and raised an eyebrow - a 'ready?' question. We nodded and he banged the front door very loudly. It was effective, only a few seconds after the glass in the door had ceased vibrating, some lights were turned on in the house. The dark front door came alive in a cascade of colours from its stained glass inserts.

We heard quick footsteps.

"Who is it?" A man's voice asked.

Steve held his badge up to the small peek-through hole in the door and said in a loud voice, "police! Open up."

The man on the other side hesitated for a few moments, then we heard a door chain being disconnected and the dead-lock being opened. The door was eased opened by a tall, scrawny, middle-aged man, badly in need of a shave. He was wearing an expensive dressing gown, which was completely at odds with his unkempt appearance. His face was long and sad like the ones you normally find on funeral directors. His appearance was not improved by an untidy mop of greasy gray hair.

"What's the matter, officer?" He asked, opening the door a little wider, his voice unsure and expecting trouble. In the background, I noticed that a woman, also in a dressing gown, was coming up behind him while still doing up her belt.

"I am Detective Inspector Steve Lucas, sir. What is your name?"

"Err... I don't understand... What's this about detective?" The man asked in return.

"We are concerned about the safety of your daughter," Steve did not beat around the bush.

"Daughter?" The man reeled back in surprise.

"Yes, that's right, your daughter," Steve confirmed.

"We have no daughter... No children at all. There is just me and my wife, officer. No one else," the man said, confused and still unsure. He started to close the door. Steve was completely stumped by this development. For a few seconds he just stood there as if in a trance. I had the chance to look around the room behind the man and behind the woman - it did not take a genius to realise that he had been lying his face off.

"Lie down on the floor, hands behind your heads... do it now!" I snarled, pushing the door completely open and entering the warm house holding my gun, pointed between him and her, covering them both.

"What the fuck are you doing, Louie?" Steve started to protest.

"There are school bags in far corner of the room, Steve." Maria pointed out, also pushing past Steve and entering the room. Her gun was also out and pointed at the couple.

"You still go to school, arsehole?" I said to the man, as he quickly laid down on the floor with an alarmed expression on his face. The woman hesitated and then reached for something in her pocket. But Maria was a trained US Navy Seal - she was by her side in a few milliseconds, pointing the gun to her temple.

"On the ground like the man said, honey," she warned. Once on the floor, Maria patted her down, but she did not find a gun - just a small mobile phone in the pocket of the dressing gown. Steve handcuffed the man's hands behind his back and told him to remain absolutely still. He tossed another set of handcuffs to Maria. She handcuffed the lady, and then she looked up, questions in her eyes. The whole thing had gone down in a few seconds and it had been done quietly.

"Let's search the joint," I whispered, "but be careful - there may be more than just these two." I added while motioning to Steve and Maria to spread out and search.

We did not find anyone else in any of the rooms downstairs. I slowly made my way up the stairs, closely followed by Maria. I knew that it was here that we would be most vulnerable to a head shot. The only defence, and it's not a good one is to proceed slowly, watching for tell-tale sounds and shadows. But there was no one intent on killing us. In a small walk-in robe, off the main bedroom, I found my little girl, and she was not alone.

She was cuddling tightly her smaller brother, both appeared to be very scared. I put my gun away quickly and tried to reach for her, but she moved away from me with a whimper, her eyes bright with tears and fright.

"It's okay, honey. I am Louie Breccia... you called me, remember?" I said softly to her, while showing her my hands, palms up. At first she did not seem to understand what I had said.

"Mr. Breccia?" She asked. Her voice was a whisper, uncertain, hoping.

"That's right sweetie, I'm right here - at your request and at your service, Ma'am." I nodded with a bow of my head, saluted and then I smiled.

Her reaction was instinctive as she jumped toward and onto me hugging me fiercely, her body racked by tears of relief. Suddenly she stopped and looked down at her little brother, "Tommy?" She said, concerned.

"He is okay too, don't you worry, sweetie," I said and picked him up as well. He said nothing, just grabbed my neck tight with his little arms, and placed his little face into my shoulder and held on for dear life while I dragged myself to my feet, holding both trembling children close. As I turned around, Maria was standing behind me ready with a dressing gown for both of them, she covered them up and followed me downstairs to the kitchen. Steve took one look at the procession and immediately started to look around the kitchen, assembling stuff needed to make some hot Milo drinks for the kids.

"Tommy, this is Maria and she is a very good friend of mine. She would really like to give you a great big hug and a cup of Milo, how about that?" I said to the little guy. He looked up, uncertain and then looked at Maria. She had her smile working at 100% wattage. No male of the human species, no matter his age, can resist Maria's smiles. He dropped me like I had bad breath and stretched his little arms toward Maria, as we all knew he would. Shit, I was pretty much ready to give her a hug myself!

Carly remained fastened to my neck and we sat down as one. She accepted her warm drink from Steve with a faint thank-you smile.

"Carly and Tommy, as you know I am Louie Breccia. Please meet Detective Inspector Steve Lucas, who is my very best friend and the best policeman in Sydney. The pretty lady over here, is Maria, and also our very dear friend. She was an American Navy Seal," I said to the children. Their eyes widened with surprise and wonder at my words. "We are all here to help you. And now you are completely safe, okay?" They nodded and sucked up their hot sweet drinks.

Warm milk, chocolate, sugar and kindness did their work: the children stopped trembling and started to relax. Tommy was asleep in Maria's arms in no time, Carly started to say something but did not finish it, she also passed out, exhausted.

"There is a cozy spare room just adjacent to the lounge room," Steve pointed in its general direction. Both Maria and I carried our precious cargoes to the bed in what was presumably a guest room. We placed the two children in the double bed and covered them up. I left a small light on for them, should they wake up suddenly. But Maria insisted on staying with them anyway. Steve and I walked out toward the two people handcuffed on the floor.

"What about these two?" I asked.

"They will have to be questioned at length," Steve said. "I have called it in, the troops should be here soon," he added.

I walked over to the man lying on the floor, "have you got anything to say, arsehole?" I asked.

"Err... I... we... err... no," he mumbled incoherently.

I stepped over him and walked toward the woman. She was younger- in her early thirties I guessed. She was good looking, in a brassy sort of way. Her lipstick and makeup seemed to be a little smudged: as if we had interrupted a heavy petting session. I noticed that her dressing gown had flopped open, revealing a pink nippled breast of generous proportions staring at me in mindless enticement. I smiled, bent over and covered her up, "what about you," I said to her. "Do you have anything to say?" She just shook her head and small tears formed in her eyes. I had nothing to add to that. I walked back to Steve, who was just coming back from the upstairs rooms.

"Their clothes are upstairs. No identification of any kind," he said.

"I wonder what the fuck is going on. I reckon that these two are not hardened crims in any way shape or form. They are just a pair of idiots," I pointed to the couple still on the floor.

"There are photos upstairs, that I assume are of the kids' parents. Similar in build and looks to those two," he said nodding toward them. "But definitely not them. Mate, I have no idea what is going on either. But it can't be good news for anyone," he concluded grimly, shaking his head.

And then the troops arrived in a fanfare of sirens and brightly blinking lights: more detectives, crime scene investigators, doctors, social workers than you could shake a stick at. While Steve brought the detectives up to date, I retired to join Maria in the room where the children were sleeping. I hoped that they would not be startled awake and become alarmed or frightened by the confusion and the noise.

We were there almost two hours, when the people from DoCS (Department of Community Services, DoCS are responsible for all matters dealing with underage children,) came to take the children away. It was very hard to give the children up, especially since neither child wanted a bar of them and clung to us with all their strength. With a lot of patience, explaining and promises to visit them as soon as possible, they finally agreed to go. But they were not happy, both stared at us from the back window of the car, until it turned a corner and they were lost to our eyes. We stared back, waving, putting on false smiles. I felt guilty for no real reason, and it felt like I had lost something irreplaceable.

# Chapter 3

The handcuffed couple was taken to Darlinghurst Police Station, for processing and questioning. We followed close behind, in my car.

Steve as the most senior detective on duty at that early hour, decided to start the questioning immediately. This was because the parents of the children were still missing, and time was crucial.

Maria and I, not being cops, were not allowed to sit in the interrogation room during the questioning. But Steve showed us into an adjoining room fitted with a one-way window and a loudspeaker system. We could hear and see everything that was going to be said in that depressing room. It reminded me of many unpleasant memories from my past.

Steve decided to tackle the husband first. A uniformed officer brought the man into the room, pushed him to sit down on a metal chair bolted to the floor. He then handcuffed his hands to the steel table that was in front of the chair and left him in there, alone, to stew in his guilt and fear. Meanwhile, Steve started on all the paperwork that always follows any Police investigation like an unruly but faithful dog.

Maria and I waited while we struggled to keep down the black and mysterious mixture that all Police stations reckon is coffee. Finally, Steve was ready, and holding an important looking folder he entered the room. He sat down right in front of the man. He said nothing, but he turned his twin laser-like eyes onto the poor sod.

The man cringed visibly as if he had been physically hit.

"I... err... would like a...err... lawyer," the man said almost apologetically. Steve ignored the request. He continued to look at the man and still did not speak. The man was becoming more and more nervous, he was fidgeting, sweating.

"I would like... to see a lawyer," he repeated, his voice was even more subdued, uncertain. "Please," he added, maybe thinking that the 'magic' word would work as well as it had when he was still a child.

Steve was not impressed, and remained quiet. The room grew still.

"You are not under arrest, as yet, so you are not entitled to a lawyer," Steve finally said to him in a quiet, calm but commanding voice. "Kidnapping, child abuse, home invasion, resisting a police officer; all are very, very serious offences. You are looking at thirty years at least. And, that's assuming your record is clean. Your finger prints will tell us that part of the story, uh? The worse part, by far, is torturing those two kids... juries hate that. Really, my friend, you are properly fucked! The only people that hate child abusers more than juries will be your fellow inmates. Shit, you won't last six months!"

The man reeled back alarmed by this long list of consequences. His lips trembled, "I... I did not know those kids were there..." The idiot tried the 'ignorance gambit', as if that has ever worked in the history of civilization.

"Fucking liar!" Steve growled at him, about a centimeter from his ear. The change from a calm and easy going cop to a snarling maniac was so sudden and unexpected that the man pissed himself - we watched as a puddle slowly formed under his chair.

"Fair dink... I didn't... we didn't... know..." He mumbled.

"Listen to me, you fucking moron! We know that you knew because the little girl phoned my friend and asked for help, how do you suppose she did that if she was in the wardrobe all the fucking time, huh?" He asked the man, while staring at him, his eyes lazering him apart. "There is no doubt about it; you and that bitch of yours, shoved them in that tiny cupboard, out of the way, after she called my friend for help." Steve added, shaking his head as if it was the very worst thing that he had ever heard or seen.

Then, out of the blue, "what have you done to Dr. Reece and Mrs. Reece?'" Steve accused, harshness and threat in his voice.

"Who? I... I... don't know... them."

"What have you done to them? Are they dead?" Steve repeated getting more menacing, raising his voice.

"I... we... didn't. I want a lawyer, please," the man blurted, fear filling every pore.

"No doubt about it... " Steve smiled evilly at him. "You are fucked!"

The man just sat there, shoulders slumped, head in his hands, murmuring something under his breath.

"I have had it with you! Now I am going to talk to that bitch of yours, see if I can make her piss her pants too," Steve said in a cold tone and started walking out.

"Hang on, wait, please wait," the man begged. "She doesn't know anything. Please leave her alone... I'll tell you... everything. I'll tell you all I know. She... please leave her be," he begged again.

Steve took the time to look up directly in our direction and with the man at his back, he smiled and mouthed at me, "and that's how it's done, grasshopper!" Then, turning to face the perp. once more, he removed a small tape recorder from his pocket, switched it on and in a very formal and calm tone he started the formal interrogation.

LUCAS: this is Detective Inspector Steve Lucas. Interview room 2, Darlinghurst police station. It is now 5:34 am Saturday the 16th of January 2012.

LUCAS: state your name, date and place of birth and your present address.

PERP.: My name is William John Moore, I was born in Wollongong on the 3rd of April 1966. I live in unit 6, 35 Cross Street, Lalor Park.

LUCAS: State your present occupation

MOORE: I am presently unemployed. But I am an actor... err.

LUCAS: Explain, in as much detail as possible, how you came to be taken into custody inside the premises of a Dr. Robert Reece, at 17 Plaza Place, Dover Heights.

MOORE: Last Monday...

LUCAS: Was that Monday the 11th of January?

MOORE: Yes... I think so...

LUCAS: Please continue.

MOORE: As I was sayin'... Last Monday I was coming out of the Centrelink office in Blacktown, when a man approached me...

LUCAS: Please describe this man.

MOORE: ehm... he was well dressed in a suit... looked like a lawyer to me... 'bout my height maybe a taller, but well built, like a wrestler. He had gray hair, no beard or nothin'... ehm... That's all I can remember.

LUCAS: Eyes?

MOORE: Yes he had' em.

LUCAS: Colour of his eyes?

MOORE: Oh sorry, I... I dunno.

LUCAS: Did he tell you his name?

MOORE: Oh yes, he introduced himself as John Smith.

LUCAS: I see, please continue Mr. Moore.

MOORE: He asked me if I was married and I said yes. He seemed pleased with my answer, but I was beginning to be creeped out and I was about to tell him to get Fu... err... lost, and then he asked me if I was interested in making a quick ten grand. That got my attention.

LUCAS: Is that ten thousand dollars?

MOORE: Yeah that's what I said ten grand.

LUCAS: Please go on.

MOORE: 'Who do I have to kill?' I sorta joked at him. But he did not laugh, but he said, 'that won't be necessary'. Serious like, it really creeped me out... but we needed the money... you know. Centrelink don't even cover the rent. So I asked, 'what's the job?' An' he said, 'Just a little acting job.'

LUCAS: How did he know you were an actor?

MOORE: Yeah, I wondered about that too... maybe through Centrelink? I dunno. Anyway I told him I was interested, but I had to talk it over with Janet first.

LUCAS: Janet, is that your wife? The lady that was brought in with you?

MOORE: Yes that's right.

LUCAS: OK please go on.  
MOORE: So, he said 'no worries, go and to talk it over with your wife,' that's my wife... err... I mean Janet. And to ring him within a couple of hours either way... he gave me 'is card...

LUCAS: Do you still have this card?

MOORE: Sure, it's in my wallet.

LUCAS: This is DI Steve Lucas I am interrupting this interview now, for the purpose of obtaining the card mentioned by Mr. Moore. It is 6.12 am

Steve stood up from the interview table and asked Moore if he wanted a drink or something.

"A cup of tea would be nice, milk and two sugars, please," Moore said. Now that the confession had begun he was feeling and looking more at ease: it's a trick that the Catholic Church cottoned onto about two thousand years ago - confession is good for the soul and loosens lips.

Steve returned about five minutes later with a cup of tea and a wallet in his hand. He gave Moore his cuppa and sat down.

"How is my Janet?" Moore asked before taking a sip.

"She's fine, for now Mr. Moore, she's a lot drier than you are and as long as you continue to cooperate she will be fine. I even got her a cuppa."

"Thanks for that, sir." Moore smiled and then attacked the cup with naked need.

While Moore drank greedily, Steve activated the small tape recorder once more.

LUCAS: this is DI Steve Lucas, I am resuming the interview of Mr. Moore in Room 2, Darlinghurst police station. It is now 6:18 am Saturday the 16th of January 2012. Mr. Moore is this your wallet?

MOORE: yes it looks like it.

LUCAS: please find the business card you mentioned. Handle it from just one corner and place it into this evidence bag.

MOORE: Okay... err... here it is.

LUCAS: Mr. Moore has placed a small business card in an evidence bag marked with serial number: 6181612012. He has handled it by the top right hand corner. The business card has the name John Smith and a mobile telephone number 0402138664. I am now suspending this interview pending further investigation, it is 6.20 am.

As Steve stood up with the plastic bag and the wallet in his hand he said to Moore.

"I won't be long. Do you need anything?"

"A dry pair of pants would be nice and... err... "

"Not sure I can do much about that, Mr. Moore," Steve smiled and left the room.

We met Steve outside the interview room as he was walking out. At the same time, his current partner, DS Mike Cheng, walked in to join us. After a spate of introductions, Steve brought him up to date with the Reece's case.

I took a look at the business card in the clear plastic evidence bag. It was obviously a homemade job, probably using something like MS Word. It looked like it had been printed onto photo-print paper. All it said was John Smith and then the phone number, in Times New Roman font.

"I'll chase the card and the phone number," Mike said to Steve, taking the card from my hands. "And then I'll start on the woman, while you finish with Moore."

"Sounds like a plan," Steve agreed, he then turned to us, "any ideas from you guys?"

"These two pair of idiots are not going to tell us much more. It looks like they were conned into it." I said.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Steve said. And Maria rolled her eyes.

"You two always think the same thing," she commented.

"No way!" we protested at the same time, which resulted in another eye roll.

Steve returned to the interview room, while we returned to our observation room. LUCAS: this is DI Steve Lucas, I am resuming the interview of Mr. Moore Room 2, Darlinghurst police station. It is now 6:30 am Saturday the 16th of January 2012. Mr. Moore please continue with your account.

MOORE: Where was I... err?

LUCAS: you went home to talk to your wife.

MOORE: oh yes, I went home and told Janet all about it, she was against it from the start. She wanted no part in it. But after a couple of hours, I wore her down. You see, we needed the money real bad. So an hour or so later, I phoned Mr. Smith and told him we wanted to know more. He said he would be over in fifteen minutes.

LUCAS: You had given him your address?

MOORE: No way... but he just knew it...

LUCAS: You did not ask him how he knew it?

MOORE: Well... I was going to... but when he got there, the first thing he did was put a thick bunch of fifties on our kitchen table right in front of us! Boy, all that money... it sort of seemed to hypnotize us... even Janet stopped objectin' to the idea.

LUCAS: I see, go on please.

MOORE: He said that all we had to do was to impersonate this rich couple in the Eastern Suburbs just over the weekend. We would get half of the money right up front and the rest at the end of the job. He told us that the house would be empty and that we would not have to go out. Just stay home and do nothing. Just act like the couple was havin' a lazy weekend. It sounds all so stupid, now... but all that money...

LUCAS: What happened next?

MOORE: Well... I guess we agreed to do it... wish we hadn't now... I am sorry about the kids... I really am...

LUCAS: Please continue.

MOORE: He told us that he would call Friday afternoon and give us the go ahead and the address and that we should be ready to go at a moment's notice. He said to make sure that we travelled to the house after dark and by public transport. But we used a taxi instead, Janet can't walk too far, you see.

LUCAS: How did you get into the house?

MOORE: Oh, that's right he gave us a key.

LUCAS: do you still have the key?

MOORE: no... it's back at the Reece's house on that little table, near the front door. I left it there because I didn't think we would need it again. Anyway, apart from the taxi, we did exactly as he told us. He called Friday at about three thirty pm or so.

LUCAS: What happened then?

MOORE: When we got there we found that the house was not empty at all as he had promised. The two little kids were in it. Janet phoned Mr. Smith right away and told him and that the kids being there an' all was not part of the deal and that we wanted out. Somehow, Smith smooth-talked her into stayin', told her that he would double what he owed us. Janet tol' me that he said to her to just put the kids in their bedroom and tell them their Mum and Dad were going to be a bit late and that they had sent us to look after'm.

LUCAS: I see why did you put them in the cupboard?

MOORE: Oh shit that was bad... I did that. Janet and I had a big fight about that too... she tol' me she was going to divorce me for it...I really fucked up then...

LUCAS: What happened?

MOORE: You see, we put the two kids in their bedroom and got' em dinner an all, and all was going fine, they went to bed about 11 or so. The lil guy kept askin' for his momma, but he finally went to sleep. The young girl just stared at us and said nothin'. Then, while... err... Janet an' me were watchin' TV, it was about 2 in the am, the phone light started flashin' - there's a phone right there by the TV with a heap of buttons that light up on it. Janet picked it up and we could hear the little girl talking to some man. I went to her room right away and told her that she wasn't allowed to do that, and to go to sleep. But not long after that she did the same thing all over again. So we called Mr. Smith and he said to tie them up and gag them for the night. I was pretty tired, but there weren't no way I's going to tie up those two little ones... so... so... I just picked them up and put them in the walk-in dressing room off the main bedroom. That way we could keep an eye on 'em... I just sorta did it... I wanted to go to sleep. It was just going to be for a little while... anyways I just about finished doin' that and was getting ready for bed when you guys turned up... I don't think Janet will ever speak to me again... fuckin' money!

LUCAS: Do you know the whereabouts of Dr. and Mrs. Reece?

MOORE: No idea, never met them. Seemed to us that they had gone away somewhere and Mr. Smith was just helping them out... now I see how stupid we were... er... I was, Janet always knew it was fishy.

LUCAS: Do you have anything else to say?

MOORE: Yeah... er... please let Janet go, she didn't do nothin'... It was all my doin'... she tried to stop me... please let her go, she's not well.

LUCAS: this is DI Lucas, I am concluding this first interview of Mr. Moore in Room 2, Darlinghurst police station. It is now 7:38 am Saturday the 16th of January 2012. Mr. Moore you will now be returned to your holding cell, pending further investigation.

Steve stood up from the table and exited the room. Moore just sat there, head bent over in his hands. We met Steve outside the interview room.

"What do you reckon?" I asked him.

"I'm not sure, Mate. He is either the stupidest human alive or he is acting like the stupidest human alive."

"Yeah I was thinking the same thing. Also it makes no sense the Moore's being there unless Smith knew the kids were going to be there. The house could have looked after itself, but two little kids left alone would have raised the alarm," I said.

"Sounds about right," Steve agreed. He then checked his wrist watch, even though he had just checked it in the interview room. "Why don't you two go to bed now, I have to finish up here. We'll catch up with you Louie about lunch time tomorrow... I mean today?" Steve suggested.

"I am all for going to bed with Maria," I agreed. Steve leered at me and Maria punched my arm.

"Hey! It was Steve's suggestion," I protested.

Not long after, I dropped Maria off at her flat in The Rocks. Doris II and I went home alone. When I opened my front door, I was properly greeted by Roger - properly by dog standards, that is: running around, leaping, tail going around like a disconnected propeller, licks and yowls of pleasure!

I don't know how that wily best friend of mine did it, but somehow he got the unbelievably beautiful and smart Maria and I got his really, really ugly dog, Roger. Go figure!

When Roger lived with Steve he was the playground for a contented tribe of fleas and he farted almost non-stop, two very poor aspects of his persona. But, once he moved in with me, I put a stop to both. A new diet, exercise and a visit to the beauty parlor once a week made Roger a brand new dog. The visit to the doggy parlor did not improve his looks, those are beyond human help. He does, however, smell a lot better and the fleas are gone.

These improvements were not mere whim on my part, but were absolutely essential: Roger insists on sharing my bed. A habit I discovered on his first sleep-over: he broke right through my bedroom door to get to me and my bed. Then and there, I decided that it was either shooting him or taking him to see the experts. True he was ugly, but he had a heart of pure gold and so the experts won.

I was exhausted when I walked in, but Roger had other ideas and quickly fetched his lead for me – how could I refuse that innocent enthusiasm? Early morning walks along the shoreline of Sydney Cove are always great and leave you feeling that life is not so bad after all. Roger absolutely loves them. The nasal spectrum of the area must change on a daily basis as he always seems very surprised to discover new smells and new places to find them. Roger is blind in one eye and the other eye is in doubt, so his sense of smell must be better than what is normal for his breed, whatever that is. Basically, Roger looks like a very, very big rat who has run into a wall at the speed of sound. He sports a long propeller-like tail. The colour, the relatively short legs, the beady eyes, the long whiskers are all rat like... thank goodness he has been de-sexed –you'll know what I mean, if you have ever seen a male rat!

When we returned, I fed him the dry food designed for performance greyhounds in spite of his dwarfish size, a brisket for his teeth and a drink of milk, which he lapped up with much delight and noise. I then refreshed his water. Roger was good to go for another twenty four hours. Me, I needed sleep. I needed Maria beside me - I settled for just sleep and Roger.

# Chapter 4

The alarm failed to wake me. Steve knocking loudly at my door, did not. Roger and I stumbled, bleary eyed and naked to the front door and opened it. Roger took one look or more likely, one smell at who it was, turned around without one doggy word and headed for the bedroom, growling under his breath.

"Boy, that dog does not forgive and forget, does he?" Then Steve noticed what I wasn't wearing, "for fuck sake, Louie go put something on before you turn me off me breakfast!" He said grimacing and diverting his eyes to the ceiling.

"Nothing puts you off your food," I said. "What are you doing here so early?" I demanded, glancing back to my bed with longing.

"Early? It's one pm, you lazy arse," he answered, while making a real show of avoiding to look at me. "Maria and I have been waiting downstairs for hours, Mate," he added.

"Yeah, right, in other words, you just got here."

"Maybe," he nodded, and turned around to head downstairs to Sergio's little cafe.

"Okay wimp, give me five minutes to shower and dress. I'll be with you in another flash," I promised brightly. I just heard his grumble at the bad pun before I closed the front door and headed toward my minuscule shower.

While I soaped my body with a brand new bar of Pears Soap, I thought about the case so far. By the way, I only use Pears soap because it's a real man's soap. It does not come in cute shapes and in subdued shades of pink and blue. It does not boast exotic fragrances like sandalwood or green apples. Pears is always brown, smells like engine de-greaser and its shape is the illegitimate child of a brick and a football – you can't get any manlier than that.

Back to the case, I figured that there were two things that stood out about it so far: one - we knew jack shit; and two - we did not have a client. Not having a client was not a worry – at the end of a long and dangerous case near the end of last year we had worked with the US Navy when we successfully 'saved the world!'. The US government was over generous in recompensing me (and Steve) for the near loss of our lives and the loss of the mobility of my right leg, and of course for 'saving the world!'. I could have retired and not worked for the rest of my life, but money had never been the reason for the PI business in the first case. Being a detective was in my blood, and I liked it there.

Two minutes later, the hot water ran out and I figured it was a good time for me to do the same. My black T-shirt announced to the world that 'NIN, leave you transfixed'. I could feel that it was a typical Sydney summer's day – hot, so I decided to brake my unspoken rule of never wear short pants again. The wound on my thigh looked pretty horrible and so I seldom, if ever, showed it in public. That day, I thought, what the fuck. So I stepped into the shorts singing "I am, what I am, I am Popeye the sailor man!" I fetched my cane and hop-a-longed downstairs, still singing, to join my friends at one of Sergio's outside tables.

When I got there, Steve's partner, Mike, was already there and I sat down at the only vacant chair that was left. As I lowered myself in my chair, Sergio brought me out a double shot short black. The man is worth his weight in gold!

I just smiled and asked the group. "So, what's been happening?"

"Mike was just telling us that Janet Moore had nothing to say, she would not rat on her husband, in fact she just kept shaking her head and crying," Steve said.

"Pair of idiots," I said.

"Ditto," Steve said.

"Ditto," Mike agreed.

"Oh Gawd!" Maria turned her eyes to the sky, probably wishing she was back on a US warship in the middle of the Pacific doing something useful, like sending a few smart bombs through windows of windowless desert dwellings.

"What about the phone number?" I asked, finishing my coffee and waving at Sergio to bring the menus.

"Dead," Mike said. "The phone company reckons that the sim-card was destroyed about 5 am this morning."

"Figures," I said. "What about forensics? Nothing there either, I bet."

"Yep, nothing that we can follow up, anyway," Mike admitted in semi desperation.

"Anyone talked to the kids yet?" I asked, picking a menu up and quickly deciding to have Sergio's fantastic pumpkin ravioli in a cream, wine and porcini mushrooms sauce.

"No, not yet. Carly has apparently informed DoCS that she will not talk to anyone but you. Tommy has not talked at all," Steve said and leered at me.

"I wonder why Carly rang me in the first place," I said. "Where in the world did she get my number?"

"I can explain that," Mike said, putting his menu down. "We found one of your business cards in her bedroom," he said and it was his turn to leer at me.

"My business card?" I asked, surprised and beginning to feel I had done something wrong for no reason. "How come?"

"We were hoping you would be able to tell us," Maria spoke for the first time, and of course there was the leer again.

Sergio saved me from a return of the Spanish Inquisition. He was ready to take our orders for lunch. Belatedly I said, "I really have no idea how she got one of my business cards... I guess that I'll have to go through my files and see if the Reece's have cropped up somewhere in the past. I mean, I don't exactly hand them out in the street." Then, I diverted the trend of the conversation, "What do we know about the Reece's so far?""

Mike and Steve took turns at telling us what they had found out that morning. Apparently, Dr. Robert Reece was a PhD chemistry graduate from Sydney Uni and had started his own business, manufacturing a number of useful products, mostly in the specialized fuel additives area. He held a number of very lucrative patents. He and his wife, Anna, had met at Uni and had subsequently married. She was a law and economics graduate from the same University, and they had started the company together. They had been married fifteen years and had two children: Carly, twelve; and Tommy, seven. The Reece's owned the house in Dover Heights outright, had over a million dollars in shares, bonds and cash in the bank, owned two cars, both were recent, top-of-the-line Lexus'.

"So, no money problems, no problems that we can find," Steve concluded. "They left their factory on Friday about lunch time, as was their usual habit. They were both in the same car, we found the other Lexus in the garage... and they have not been seen since."

"Every Friday at lunch time?" I asked.

"Yes, according to a preliminary questioning of staff at the factory, the Reece's liked to start their weekend early," Mike said.

"Why were the kids home alone?" Maria asked.

"We don't know that yet. It will have to wait until we can ask them," Steve said.

"We have zilch to go on," I concluded.

"Even less," Mike nodded.

"Ditto," Steve said.

"Here comes our food," Maria announced, with some relief in her voice.

The ravioli were delicious. Sergio outdid himself by serving us two bottles of a special vintage wine, which he had been hoarding for some time. It was the Italian **Curtefranca Rosso (Riserva Zenighe)** , made from Cabernet Franc, Merlot, and smaller amounts of Nebbiolo and Barbera grapes. It had an intense red colour, and was fruity and spicy with a good palate – really, really good. This should not be too surprising as the area has ancient traditions, dating back to 1277 when it was known as "Franzacurta" I reckon that, if they hadn't got it right by now, maybe they should have switched to making cheese instead.

Sergio explained it all to us as he proudly poured the rich, burgundy coloured liquid into each of our glasses. All of us dutifully smelled it, tasted it and thanked him for the great honour. He basked in our appreciation like a seal in the sun.

After we had eaten and just as Sergio was bringing the short black coffee for the post-meal obligatory coffee and cigarette, my mobile barked. I considered just switching it off, but then I remembered that I had diverted all business calls to it before going out to find Carly. The number shown on the screen did not give any clues as to the caller, so I passed the phone to Maria, who works with me for Breccia Investigations. She has a much better phone manner than I will ever have. I tend to be gruff and impatient and likely to tell possibly rich customers to go fuck themselves if they start to ask too many questions.

"Hello, Breccia Investigations," she smiled into the phone. "Yes that's right." A pause while she listened, a smile in my direction, "Yes, Mr. Richards, I'll connect you right away, please hang on," she said, and covering up the phone with her hand, she offered me the phone and said to me with a cheeky grin, "it's for you."

"Who is it?" I asked, stupidly.

"John Richards... " she said and looked up at the sky for the give-me-patience-god.

"That sounds familiar..." I tried, but she interrupted me.

"Lidia Harrison mentioned him when she first visited us, remember? And you worked for his firm on a case before my time," Maria reminded me. She never forgets anything.

"Oh yes... from that law firm... I wonder what he wants?" I asked no one in particular.

"Why don't you ask him?" Maria smiled sweetly offering me the phone again. I nodded and took it.

"Hello, sorry to keep you waiting, John," I said into the phone, in a business-like manner. I have my moments.

"Don't worry Louie... could you possibly drop in and see me at your earliest convenience... I am a bit concerned about one of my clients," he said. I thought about it for a few seconds and then in one of those inspirational moments when you know that there are no coincidences, I put two and two together - and for once did not get five.

"A Dr. Reece, I presume?" I said, smiling at the surprise painted on the faces of my three friends, who were intent on listening to my phone call. Richards was very quiet for a few moments, he must have been just as surprised, shocked even. But definitely impressed.

"So, he did contact you, Louie... I advised him to, but I was sure he wouldn't... do you know where he is?" He asked with some relief in his voice.

"I think I'd better come down and see you right away, John. We can't discuss this matter on the phone." I said.

"Come right away, Louie, I'll get Jenny to clear up all my appointments for the rest of the afternoon." He agreed very quickly.

Dr. Reece must be a very lucrative client for John to take such an unprecedented step.

"Right, see you soon, John. By the way, I will be bringing some company with me," I warned him and quickly hung up, before I got the twenty questions of who, why, when and all that stuff – lawyers love them.

"Well, that explains the business card," I said. Then recounted what John had said. "If we are all finished here why don't we drop in and see what's what?" I suggested.

"I better go and finish processing those two idiots at the station, see if I can get them some bail or something," Mike said. I thought about what he had just said. It sounded like the right thing to do. Mere stupidity should not be reason enough to spend time in jail, especially when there was no real vicious intent. All the same, somehow it just did not feel right to me. It was something at the back of my mind, like a hitch in the brain.

Then, Maria hit it right on the head for me. "Will they be safe?" She asked. "They are the only ones that have seen the elusive Mr. Smith."

"That's true," Mike nodded now a bit uncertain what to do.

"Makes you think," Steve said.

"Ditto," I said.

" How about this, tell them that we are keeping them in protective custody, and then move them to that safe house we have in Bondi Junction. We'll be able to keep' em there for a few days at least, keep an eye on them and keep them away from Smith," Steve suggested.

"Good thinking, Steve," I said.

"Ditto," Mike said.

"Ditto," Maria said before she could stop herself. We all had to laugh. Richards, Hawthorne and Cheng had their offices in Macquarie Street, which is the eastern most street of Sydney's CBD. It is named after Lachlan Macquarie, an early Governor of New South Wales. He was the husband of Mrs. Macquarie, who was so well liked by the convicts in the early colony that they carved, from a solid sandstone rock, a special 'chair' for her to sit on and enjoy views of the splendid harbour. The rock is situated on a small peninsula, next to the Botanic Gardens. The peninsula is still know as Mrs. Macquarie's Chair.

Macquarie Street soon became the colony's preeminent residential address and was widely known as the Harley Street of Sydney. Today, it is still the location of the Sydney Hospital, the Hyde Park Barracks, St. James Church, the Royal Australian College of Physicians, the British Medical Association, Parliament House, the State Library of New South Wales, The Sydney Mint, The Reserve Bank of Australia, Government House and The Sydney Conservatory of Music. As you can see it's the place to be, if you can pay the rent.

Whoever built the rooms now occupied by Richards, Hawthorne and Cheng, must have cleared a few acres of prized and irreplaceable Cedar trees - every wall was covered in spectacular wood paneling from floor to ceiling. The floors were covered with carpet so thick that you might need snow shoes to walk on – to possibly avoid snapping an ankle. The atmosphere was oppressive, austere and deathly quiet. It was meant to be intimidating unless you had millions in the bank.

But the Breccia's are never intimidated and I waltzed in without a pause. My appearance in shorts, T-shirt and thongs threatened to send the receptionist's left eyebrow off into her hairline as she asked in a startled but severe tone if I was lost. What she really meant was "Please leave now, before anyone that matters sees you."

"Louie Breccia, Doll." I said to her, and offered my hand. I thought she might take a fit at the 'Doll', fortunately she was distracted by the huge paw trust right before her squinty eyes. "We are here to see good ol' Richo," I told her loudly.

"Oh no... my goodness... err ah yes... err... Mr. Richards is expecting you," she answered with disbelief. It was obvious that she could not believe that Mr. Richards had canceled important clients for the sake of speaking to the creature from the black lagoon standing right there in front of her.

"I'll announce you, Mr.... Mr.... err... I'll see if Mr. Richards is free..." I don't think she was breathing at all, perhaps avoiding airborne contamination, which in her mind must be oozing from every pore in my hairy body.

"No worries, love, I know me way," I cut her short, and with a pat on her shoulder, which she avoided with the speed of a young pugilist, I headed straight for Richards' office followed by a Maria and Steve, both intent on shaking their heads.

"But... but..." She cried, it was just too much for her, her breath seemed to be failing her. Paramedics might be needed and soon.

I entered Richards' office without bothering to knock, and he looked up in startled alarm. "It's only me," I assured him.

John Richards could have been the poster-boy for all lawyers. He was good looking, in his early forties. His hair was immaculately combed, complete with a fashionable graying at the temples. Just under two metres tall, slim and in a navy blue suit, a burgundy and white striped shirt with a white collar, a navy blue tie with some sort of emblem embroidered in gold on it, probably a secret vampire society. He projected an air of reliability, confidence and competence like a beacon.

Once he had realised who it was that had barged into his inner sanctum uninvited, he stood up from behind his desk and his lips tightened into a facsimile of a smile of welcome in my direction. It quickly morphed into a scowl when he noticed the troops following at my heels.

I shook his hand anyway and then quickly introduced Steve and Maria.

"I was hoping not to involve the police at this stage," he said to me as his scowl got worse.

"I am sorry John, but the police were already involved. Relax Mate and let me explain," I said. I then described the events that had began with little Carly's phone call in that early hours of the morning. His face remained impassive throughout and he jotted down occasional notes on a legal pad. When I had finished, the room remained quiet for a few moments.

"This is all much worse than I expected," he said finally, shaking his head, appearing to be seriously concerned.

"John, why don't you tell us why you gave Mr. Reece my card in the first place?" I suggested. He nodded and then he opened the top drawer in his desk and brought out a thin manila folder. From it, he extracted a clear plastic envelope and passed it over to me. I took the envelope and held it so that both Steve and Maria could also read it. The envelope contained a white sheet of A4 paper with the following threat printed in large Comic Sans font:

I WANT THE FORMULA OF THE PZ-76 CATALYST OR YOU WILL SUFFER DIRE CONSEQUENCES. I WILL CONTACT YOU SOON.

"When did he get this?" Steve asked.

"About a month ago," Richards said, "he came to see me the same day."

"Why didn't one of you contact the police?" Steve asked, his tone matching the anger in his eyes.

"Robert did not want to. The PZ-76 work was very secret and he wanted to avoid undue publicity which might alert his competitors to what he was so near to achieving," Richards answered, moving slightly back and away from Steve's mounting aggression.

"Obviously, it was no longer a secret, wouldn't you say?" Steve commented acidly and then pointing an accusatory index finger "As an officer of the court it was your lawful duty to contact the police, as you well know."

"Yes, of course," Richards nodded, "I said the very same thing to Dr. Reece. But he disagreed, he reminded me of lawyer-confidentiality. It does supersede other considerations. Anyway, he felt sure, that it must be someone inside the firm. He felt that he could handle it himself. That's when I advised him to get professional help and gave him Louie's card," he finished. The regret in his voice appeared to be sincere.

"What is PZ-76?" Maria spoke for the first time.

"I am not at liberty to tell you. Robert made me draw up a fool-proof secrecy agreement and then asked me to sign it," Richards said to her. "In any case, I don't really know what it is, only a brief inkling of its potential."

"We really need to know, John. It's obviously at the centre of all this trouble and your client's lives are in real jeopardy," I said with as much emphasis as I could muster and standing up from my chair and leaning over on his desk.

He was a little shocked by the verbal attack and moved back a fraction. After some thought, he gathered his troops, and moved forward again .

"I want to hire you to find them, Louie, to find the Reece's," he said suddenly.

"If you hire me I would be bound by the same secrecy agreement?" I guessed.

"Correct," he nodded.

"Which means that you will be able to tell me what PZ-76 is supposed to do?" I asked.

"Precisely," he confirmed.

"Okay," I said.

I could see that Maria was already extracting a copy of our standard contract from her shoulder bag. She placed it on the desk in front of Richards and he started to read it, lawyer-like, very carefully. I could feel Steve getting impatient next to me, shifting his lanky legs, crossing them and uncrossing them. Finally Richards was satisfied and he signed the contract, Steve let out a sigh of relief.

"Now tell us all about it," he demanded.

"That contract only binds Louie and possibly the members of his firm, I am afraid that you are not included. I'm sorry DI Lucas you... err... will have to leave the room," Richards said, and then smiled apologetically at Steve. I could see that Steve was about to explode and I thought that Richards might have overstepped himself. But Maria came to the rescue.

"Just give us a few minutes, Sweetie. We'll be right out," she asked him and touched his hand, it had an immediate effect. Steve raised his eyes to the sky and left the room without saying a word. But, he was not happy.

Twenty minutes later, Maria and I joined him outside Richards' office and then we all escaped from those depressing premises.

Once we were back in Doris II and driving towards where the children were being held by DoCS, Steve could wait no longer, "so what's the big secret?" he asked. I think he was more than a bit pissed off.

"Sorry," I said. "WE can't tell you."

"Oh for fuck sake!" He boiled over.

"Don't get your knickers in a not, Mate, I was just joking," I said smiling.

"I did not like that prim posturing prick telling me to leave," he said with some force.

"He was just covering his arse. He knows that I will tell you anyway," I pointed out. "Good alliteration by the way," I added, smiling.

"Thanks." he said, smiling back and already cooling off.

"So?" He said after a while.

"Maria can probably explain it better," I suggested

"Well... apparently normal car engines operate at an efficiency of about 20 to 30%. I guess Doris here is probably happy with about 8% on a good day, and that's with a tail wind," she paused to smile at my grimace. "Anyway, the PZ-76 catalyst, when added to petrol will not only improve this efficiency to about 90%, but also it cuts down harmful emissions like carbon monoxide and unburnt fuel by about 95%. Apparently, Reece was at the final testing stage," Maria explained

"That would be worth a kazillion dollars" Steve commented in wonder, trying to imagine what a kazillion zeros would look like.

"I can think of a few interested parties that would not welcome the appearance of PZ-76 on the market," Maria said.

"Why? It's a good thing, right?" Steve said, sounding confused. "Why would anyone want to stop it from happening?"

"Who for instance?" Steve and I asked in unison.

"Well, first there is OPEC – the _Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries_ \- it would cut their volume to about a tenth of what it is at present. Then there are all those companies that have invested billions in the development of bio-ethanol, as a replacement for petrol. Also, conservation, environment protection, alternative energy sources are all big money making businesses today. Even companies geared up to sell catalytic converters for every car produced in the world today may not view the advent of PZ-76 in a positive light, then..." She said, and looked ready to bring up more candidates.

Right then Steve's mobile sang to us; I have a bark on my phone as a ring tone. He has "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurhythmics. It's easy to tell who ended up with the girl, just from that alone.

"Lucas," he said. "I see... OK see you there," he disconnected, and then turned to us.

"That was Mike; they have found Reece's car."

"Anyone in it?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"No, empty, but almost totally torched," he said, flatly.

"Where?" Maria asked.

"Down in the Sevo Station car park. Mike is on his way... he'll meet us there," he said. "We'll have to go see the kids later," he finished with regret in his voice. We said nothing as I changed direction and headed toward the M2 freeway.

# Chapter 5

'Sevo' is the colloquial name for the suburb of Sydney called Seven Hills, which is located about thirty kilometres west of the CBD. Prior to European settlement, the area now known as Seven Hills was settled and occupied for thousands of years by indigenous peoples of the Darug tribe. In 1795 Matthew Pearce was granted 160 acres of this land, which he originally named Kings Langley, after 'King's Langley Manor House' in Hertfordshire, England, where he was said to have been born. Part of it became known as Seven Hills in the 1800's, because he could count 'seven hills' from his home, the rest is still known as King's Langley.

Seven Hills Railway Station sports two car parks. They were built especially for those commuters that prefer making their daily trek to the CBD by train, rather than suffer through bumper to bumper morning and evening traffic. There is a new three-level, fully-covered and secured car park on the east side of the tracks; and there is an older, outside car park on the west side of the tracks. This latter parking area is notorious as a crim's fun-park – in it cars are stolen or torched almost on a daily basis. If you want to claim insurance for the loss of your car, maybe you need a quick injection of cash. All you need to do is park it there, and the crims will do the rest for you, free of charge. The police may not be so understanding.

We found Mike and a number of patrol cars assembled around the burnt skeleton of a car that had been abandoned in the far end of the car park. An area around the wreck was already cordoned off with crime scene tape. Mike introduced us to a young cop named Jeff, with whom he had been talking to as we exited from my car.

"This morning, Jeff here was patrolling the car park, when he noticed the wreck among others that had been there for a couple of days. What attracted Jeff's attention was that, even though it was barely recognizable, he identified it as one of the latest Lexus models. The registration plates were gone but he was able to scratch around until he got an engine number. He sent that info off to the RTA for further processing," Mike told us.

"Good work Jeff," Steve congratulated the young policeman, who smiled with pleasure.

"I guess the BOLO (be on the lookout) was tied to the registration number and not the engine number, that's why it took a while for the RTA to find it," I said.

"Correctamundo," Mike said.

"Correctamundo?" I asked.

"Yeah, I heard it in a movie, don't remember the name...but I liked the phrase," Mike nodded

"Pulp Fiction, Samuel Jackson the scene in the diner," Maria offered, as Mike nodded in agreement.

"Don't you ever forget anything?" I asked her, impressed.

"US Navy Seals are not allowed to forget anything, besides that was a great movie," she said.

"You are right about that." I agreed.

"Forensics been here yet?" Steve asked Mike.

"On their sweet way," Mike said, "but they'll find nothing, even if they do, we'll have no way of knowing who put it there, it's been out here too long," he concluded.

"Yeah, this case is beginning to shit me. The more we find the less we got," Steve agreed disgustedly.

"At least there were no bodies in it, maybe they are still alive... somewhere," I remarked, not believing it for a second.

"Yeah, right!" Steve said, his tone told me he did not believe it either.

"Those poor kids," Maria said.

"Yeah," the three of us agreed.

Carly and Tommy were being minded at the Eastern Sydney Community Services Centre, in an urban locality two kilometres south-east of Sydney CBD called Surrey Hills. The first land grants in this area were made in the 1790s when a Major Joseph Foveaux received 105 acres. His property was known as Surrey Hills Farm, after the Surrey Hills in Surrey, England. Over the next hundred years the area developed into a working class suburb, predominately inhabited by Irish immigrants. The suburb 'achieved' a reputation for crime and vices, an unfair slur that seems to resonate to this day. In the 1980s the area was 'gentrified', a term coined to mean "move the poor trash out, the rich are coming" so that real estate prices could sky rocket, and make the rich richer.

Steve and Mike had stayed behind to wait for the police snail-brigade, known as forensics. After that, they planned to revisit the Moore couple, armed with a police hypnotist and a police sketch artist (they do little or no sketching these days as its all done on laptops) to get an identikit picture of Smith going. Maria and I wanted to get to the kids, we had promised to visit them as soon as possible, and we were both fretting about them.

The social worker assigned to Carly and Tommy's case was a very pleasant, cuddly and motherly woman in her early fifties. Her clothes also seemed to date back to the 1950s: she was complete in a pink, woolen twin set and navy blue, past-the-knees skirt. She introduced herself as Dorothy please-call-me Dot Springer.

Dot showed us into a large cupboard, which she proudly referred to as her office. As I sat down on a wooden chair I noticed that the back of the chair was hard against the wall, while my knees had to squeeze in the space between the chair and her desk. This left barely enough space for her to extrude herself into her desk chair.

"Cozy," I said.

"It's worse than a sardine tin, but it's all mine," Dot said enthusiastically. "Carly and Tommy are lovely children," she added with unfailing enthusiasm. "I can see why Carly is so taken by you, Louie," she said after inspecting us for a moment or two.

"How so?" I asked, beginning to feel Maria's eyes on me as well.

"You have very kind eyes and a reassuring smile," she said. I could see Maria nodding in my peripheral vision, it did make me feel good.

So shoot me.

"Err... thanks," was all that I managed to say. "How are the children?" I asked to divert attention from my impromptu impersonation of a ripe tomato.

"They are fine. Well... err... as much as they can be in these terrible circumstances. They are very worried about their parents, the little one, Tommy, keeps asking for his Mum. Carly misses them just as much, but tries to hide it, and be strong for her little brother. She is a very good sister and comforts Tommy constantly. She is a good one, that one," Dot said. I could see her eyes brightening with incipient tears. I wondered how she could do her job if she became so emotionally involved. Then, on second thought, I answered myself - she was a good social worker because she had empathy, she felt for her client's troubles as if they were her own.

"Any signs of their parents?" Dot asked.

"I am afraid there are no good ones, so far," Maria said, also with shiny eyes. "Have you been able to find out why the kids were home alone?" She added.

"Yes, Carly did tell us that much," Dot answered. "Apparently their parents would leave work early on Fridays and be at home waiting for the kids when their school bus delivered them at their door step. But that did not happen last Friday. So Carly and Tommy just stayed inside the house and waited. By the time they decided to call someone at the factory, it was too late, everyone had left for the weekend. Both parent's mobile phones did not answer," she explained.

"The bus delivers them at their doorstep?" I asked.

"Yes, that's right. It is a small mini-bus owned by the private school they both attend. It's a K - 12 private school," Dot answered.

"What happens on the other days of the week?" I asked.

"The school provides after-school care. Their parents would pick them up from there on their way home, usually between four and four thirty," Dot answered. She hesitated, and after a long pause she added with real regret in her voice. "They won't be able to stay here, you know, I will have to find a foster family... perhaps families... they will probably be separated."

"Oh no! You can't do that!" Maria said alarmed.

"Maria, it's the last thing I want to do... but many foster parents only want little ones. Tommy will be easy to place... Carly... well, I just don't know," Dot said. Her voice was full of regret and sadness.

"Ehm... my parents have fostered kids before," I offered.

"Are they still current on the listing?" Dot asked brightening up like a 100 watt light bulb.

"I think so, Margherita Breccia and Antonio Breccia in Dural... can you check?" I asked.

"I sure can," She said, typing in the information with renewed enthusiasm. "Yes, yes... yes!" She Mumbled as she scrolled, she then looked up, smiling. "Your parents have a top classification, they would be perfect... but it's a while since they last fostered... would they do it?" She asked her enthusiasm mounting and flagging with each sentence. This woman was a living roller coaster.

"I am sure they will, but let me check," I pressed the speed dial for my parent's number on my mobile. Mum answered the call. I put the conversation on loudspeaker.

"Hello Mum," I said.

"Giggino mio! Quando vieni a trovarci?" She screamed into the phone, with pleasure.

"Very soon Mum, but could we stick to English, I have you on loudspeaker," I said.

"What's the matter? What happened?" She asked, concern showing in her voice.

"I'll tell you in a sec, is Dad around... he should hear this too, don't worry ma' it's nothing bad," I reassured her.

"I'll call him," she said and then shouted away from the phone. "Tony... Tonyee come quick... it's Louie on the phone..." And, then back on the phone to me. "Luigi, are you getting engaged? Is that it?" She asked with escalating excitement. Once more I could feel my face redden. I was feeling very uncomfortable in Maria's presence. "No Ma' that's not it... err, sorry... is Dad there yet?"

"How are you, Louie?" I heard my Dad's baritone voice in the near background. A multitude of muted noise told me that the rest of the live-in brothers were also assembling around the phone.

" Mum, Dad... I have a couple of kids that need a home for a few days... maybe a little longer..." But, I was not allowed to finish - Mum interrupted me.

"Bring the little ones over right away Louie! I'll bake a cake," Mum said. Her enthusiasm flooding back in a Tsunami.

"I'll get a room ready and get some of your old toys out from the attic, Louie," Dad said, "How old, Louie?" He asked.

"Carly is twelve and Tommy is seven," I said

"Poveri bambini miei!" My Mum said passionately, it translated into "My poor babies!" In her mind, they were already 'hers' to feed and protect.

"Thanks, Mum... Dad, see you soon," I hung up, and looked at Dot, who was now smiling. She had not been idle while I had been talking. She pushed toward me some paperwork that she had been busily assembling in front of her.

"Just get your Mum and Dad to fill this in... can you drop it in on your way back?" She asked and we were all smiling.

"Let's go get the kids," I said.

They were very happy to see us. Both jumped up and were airborne into our arms as we stepped through the room. Tommy into Maria's and Carly into mine.

"Carly, Tommy I am sorry but we have not found your parents yet... but everyone is still looking very hard. Meanwhile, you need a place to live and someone to look after you..." I started to explain.

"Can we stay with you?" Carly interrupted.

"I wish it was possible... but I am not married and they don't let single men foster children, you are old enough to know why that's a very good law, Carly, right?" I explained.

"I am sure we would be safe with you... and Maria," she reasoned.

"You would be," I assured her. "But Maria and I don't live together, besides it's the law. Cheer up I have a much better place for you guys," I pumped some enthusiasm in my voice.

"Where?" Carly asked suspicion in her tone, ready to object with all the strength of her twelve year old body.

"My parent's farm," I continued as if I had not heard her objection.

"I don't..." She started to refuse and then, she did a double take. "A real farm?" Still trying to conceal her mounting interest.

"Yes! And my Dad is a vet and they always have interesting animals to look after," I answered matching my enthusiasm to hers.

"That's what I am going to be when I grow up," she announced, smiling. She jumped off me and gathered up their meager possessions and then said to Tommy, "Come on Tommy we are going to be living on a farm," and without hesitation started for the door.

"Good work, Louie," Dot said smiling.

"Ditto," agreed Maria, but this time, quite happily.

"Thanks," I said and followed quickly behind Carly, who was now in a hurry to get to the sheep, the cows, the horses and what have you.

Carly and Tommy screamed with delight when they caught sight of Doris II.

"This is the best car in the world," Tommy announced, I think they were the first words that we had heard from him.

"It sure is," I agreed ruffling his hair.

"Can we have the top down?" Carly asked.

"You bet," I said.

Once we were all seated and belted \- Maria and I in the front; and the kids in the back, I activated the top folding and stowing mechanism. It had them enthralled to such a degree that they begged me to repeat it a number of times. I did not mind - I like watching it too.

Maria turned on the radio and of course picked the right FM station suited to Carly's oncoming teenage tastes - Carly high-fived her. The trip to Dural took over an hour and by the time we arrived, I thought that the children would have been asleep, but they were much too excited for sleep.

As we drove in the driveway, we saw the whole clan pour out of the front door of my parent's house as if an evacuation siren had just gone off. Soon they were waiting to greet us, with smiles stretching from one end to the other. I took the children by their hands and introduced them to each family member in turn.

"Mum, Dad, Pip, Rico, Joe, Mario, Jimmy and Johnny... don't worry if you don't remember all their names," I said to Carly.

"I am very good at remembering things: Mum, Dad, Pip, Rico, Joe, Mario, Jimmy and Johnny... see?"

"Ma che brava e bellissima," Mum exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Bellisima means very beautiful," Carly said knowingly. "Thank you Mama," she added and everyone laughed.

While Dad and a couple of bros showed the kids their room and then took them for a tour of the vet hospital and the adjacent farm. Maria and I stayed behind and explained to Mum and to the remaining bros how we came to know Carly and Tommy. They took in the story with concern and with their great empathy, as I knew they would. Mum of course cried and hugged Maria for consolation.

After one of Mum's incredible dinners and many hugs and kisses we left the children behind and drove back to the city. We could feel an emptiness in the car and drove in silence all the way to Maria's flat. A peck on the cheek, and I was once more on my own and on my way to my small apartment.

I was dead tired and somewhat depressed. Roger, feeling I wasn't in the mood, did not fetch his lead. We both collapsed on the bed and I was asleep before I hit the pillow.

But, the universe conspired to deprive me of sleep.

What seemed just few seconds later, my mobile barked. I could have ignored it, but the barking gets Roger all excited and he barks in sympathy or maybe, in outrage.

"Fuck!" I said. "I really must change that fucking ring tone," without opening my eyes I picked up the phone and this time I barked back.

"What?"

"We found them," Steve said. The tone of his voice told it all.

"Bad?" I asked.

"Real bad, Mate."

And it was, it was a lot worse than I had imagined, than anyone could have imagined.

# Chapter 6

I looked at the time on the mobile display, it was barely past midnight.

"Where?" I asked.

"In a dumpster... Not far from where their car was left. You know the main shopping centre at Sevo? Go round the back, you'll find us. Pick up Maria on the way? She'll be waiting for you... I'll call her now," he said and hung up.

Since I hadn't undressed, I did not need to get dressed. I picked up my car keys, my cane, patted Roger on his funny head, said "Good dog" and walked out.

When Maria climbed into the passenger seat, I said, "long time, no see," with a wry smile.

"Did we get any sleep at all?" She asked. Unlike me she was wearing a fresh T-shirt and fresh jeans.

"Don't think so," I said and pointed Doris II toward the M4 freeway, at this time of night it should get us there fast. Thirty minutes later we were pulling in the rear car park of the deserted shopping centre. We saw the flashing lights of the patrol cars assembled around a line of large, industrial-size dump bins.

Steve and Mike walked toward us as we approached the crime scene.

"That bad?" I repeated my former question as he approached the driver's side window.

He was near speechless for a moment.

"Yep, real bad, Mate," he said.

"Not seen many worse," Mike agreed.

We got out of the car and Maria went to Steve's side and held him tight. I was glad that she was able to comfort him, he wasn't taking it real well.

"The medico just got here," Mike said. "He is there now, doing his thing... it's probably best if you take a look at them once they are in the city morgue."

"Yeah, no worries," I said quickly — I wasn't keen to look at their bodies at all. I had seen enough bodies to do me for the rest of my life and then some. I hadn't known most of them, but murder victims are never good to look at. But I did feel some sort of connection with the Reece's, through their kids, so looking at their bodies would have been even worse that usual.

"Louie, I need you to go and take a look," Steve said while disentangling himself from Maria's arms. "Louie sees things in crime scenes that most of us miss. If there is anything there, he'll see it," he explained to Mike.

"OK," I acquiesced unenthusiastically, and started to walk toward the dumpster in question, with Steve walking beside me. Maria and Mike stayed behind, leaning on Doris II's fender.

There were spotlights all around the dumpster and a number of small step ladders all around so that one could look down onto the bodies. The night was fogy and somber, there were forlorn halos around each of the spotlights. As I climbed up one of the little ladders, a shiver ran down my back, but it was probably the cold. Steve, meanwhile, spoke to the forensics' team and to the pathologist, clearing the way for me to take a look.

It was very bad.

She had been dumped first and his body had been dumped on top of her. They were both on their right sides. Both were naked. His body was bruised, beaten, cut. His wrists and ankles had deep injuries as if they had been wired together. I looked closer and realised that they were still wired together, the wire had cut right through the skin and was buried deeply into his flesh. He had no nails left on any of his hands, the tips of his fingers were badly bruised and bloody. His face was a mess, his eyes were black and swollen from a pre-mortem beating, his slightly open mouth showed bloody gums, but no teeth. I looked at what I could see of her body, it didn't appear to have been as badly tortured as his. Both had been shot in the temple, it looked like 9 mm entry wounds.

"They were both shot in here," I said. "But he was tortured elsewhere first."

"Yeah," was all Steve could say.

"He was still alive when they were dumped. He was shot after he was thrown onto the dead body of his wife," I repeated.

I partly closed my eyes, like you tend to do when looking at a painting. I wanted to take in the whole of the crime scene, not just the bodies. I saw the edges of the dumpster, the rubbish, the bodies. I tried to visualise what the killers had done and how they had done it. At least two but probably three killers. They had driven up, backed the car up to the dumpster, opened the boot, lifted her out of it, lifted her above their shoulders and dumped her into the bin and shot her. Then they had lifted him out, probably unconscious by that time. Unconscious or insane.

One of them would have needed something to stand on to shoot them, probably with a silenced gun. What did he use? I looked around and noticed some 25 kg tins of waste fat next to a dumpster a few metres away.

"Get forensics to process all those tins over there," I said to Steve, pointing to the stack of tins I had sighted. "We might get some footprints," I explained.

"Right," Steve said.

I returned to focus on the scene. The killer gets one of the drums and places it... where? I looked at the body, and then at the entry wound. I looked at the Pathologist on duty and for the first time I recognised Dr. John Slater, I had worked with him before.

"Hei John, sorry I did not notice that it was you," I said to him.

"No worries, Louie. How are you?"

"I'm okay John, and you?"

"Okay Louie, I'd rather not be here though," he said. "This is as bad as I have seen, Louie."

"Yeah John... the animal that did this is a cold blooded son of a bitch," I agreed.

"Very," he nodded.

"John, any idea of the angle of that entry wound in Dr. Reece's temple?" I asked.

"Almost straight up, Louie."

"So the killer must have leaned right over and held the gun straight down, right?" I said.

"Yes, I guess so, Louie... but what does that tell you?" John asked.

"He is probably over two metres tall."

I refocused on the scene inside the bin, I looked at the lay of the rubbish around the bodies. Something struck me as strange.

"Have the bodies been moved in anyway?" I asked John.

"Not since I have been here," he said. Then, turning to Mike, "Mike, do you know if the bodies have been moved?" Mike, had been hovering around us, wanting to help - wanting to do something.

"Not as far as I know," he answered. "Let me check with the patrolmen that reported it."

He was back in a few minutes. "They assure me that no one has touched the bodies. They did not let anyone near it. Why do you ask, Louie?"

"Some of the rubbish is actually on top of her legs and even on top of his right foot. It looks to me that someone might have been searching for something after the shootings. I am now wondering if the killer with his attention fixed on watching them die, might have missed catching an ejected cartridge from his automatic. And then, realizing his mistake, he had to spend some time searching for it. Maybe he did not find it," I explained.

"Right Louie, after they take the bodies away, we'll comb through that bin piece by piece." Mike said, with some life returning to his body language.

I returned my attention to the contents of the bin, but could not get much more out of it. I got down from the small ladder and focused on the area surrounding the bin. It was pretty filthy and forensics would probably process it thoroughly, so I was about to give up, when I saw a bit of scrap paper that was being blown away from us by the gentle breeze. It was just another bit of roughly torn paper like hundreds of others that were scattered all around the dump bins. But, somehow, it had awakened something in my subconscious. It seem to be different from all the others as it flicked end over end, skipping on the pavement.

I looked at it carefully as it moved away from me - one side of that bit of paper was definitely different from the other. I hopped to where it was momentarily still and looked down on it. It was just a dirty piece of white paper, probably common computer printer paper. It was soiled and greasy, but nothing special. I was about to let it be when the breeze flipped it over. This side was very different.

I bent over and very carefully picked it up from one of its uneven corners. I held on tightly to it, I did not want it to fly out of my grasp.

"Steve," I called out. "Better bring an evidence bag, I think I got something here."

When Steve came over, he opened a small transparent evidence bag, and I placed the scrap of paper in it. Once the bag was sealed, Steve turned it over. On it, drawn roughly in what looked like blood, was a large capital 'R'.

"R for Reece?" Steve asked.

"Could be. If that is his blood he must have done that in the boot of the car, using one of his bloody fingers, and then it dropped on the ground when they picked him up and out to dump him. I had been sure that he would have been unconscious by that time, he was sure a tough bugger!" I said.

"We'll get some DNA done on the blood. If it is blood," Steve nodded, as he handed the little plastic bag to a forensic technician.

I looked around the scene and wondered why some human beings were so cruel to others. But I knew, I had known the answer for a long time. Being a cop teaches you a lot about human nature, most of it is good... but some of it is bad, really bad.

# Chapter 7

The drive back to the city was in a subdued and somber atmosphere. It became progressively worse as I described the crime scene to Maria.

"Who is going to tell the kids?" Maria asked, after a prolonged silence.

"I think it's up to us, but I'd like some professional help there as well. Rico is a GP, I'll ask his advice. And I guess Dot will need to be there. I hope the kids can stay with Mum and Dad. Also, we'll have to call Richards and get him started on the will and all that stuff and see if there are any relatives. Shit, I hate all this."

"Yeah, me too," Maria agreed.

The rest of the trip was without conversation as we both dealt with our thoughts and jumbled emotions. The sun was just rising as I dropped Maria off. I groaned inwardly at the prospect of getting home and finding Roger ready for his early morning walk. I just wanted to get to bed. As I stepped into my apartment and as expected, he was waiting for me - lead in mouth

"Come on, you slave driver," I said to him while clipping his lead to the collar around the thick neck. One of us dragged the other down the stairs and into the street with great enthusiasm.

The walk was actually good for both of us, Roger was able to investigate many smells and do his business with the seriousness that most dogs reserve for that function. I had remembered to pick up a plastic shopping bag on our rush outward - I keep a stash of them near my front door. I removed it from my pocket and with my hand inside it I gathered it all up, reversed the bag, tied a knot and placed the warm package in a street bin. I hate picking it up, it would not be so bad if it didn't feel so warm, right through the bag.

Once back home and once Roger had been fed and watered, I stripped all my clothes off, got into bed, set the alarm on my mobile for 9.00 am and thankfully went to sleep. Heaven!

The sand was fine and silky smooth on the vast crescent shaped beach. The sea breeze was refreshingly cool and the sun was resplendent and warming. The sea was a transparent blue-green that was so clear that I could see the sandy bottom a long way below the surface. I had my back to a palm tree, a straw hat and I was drinking a cocktail from a fancy glass with a mermaid swizzle stick and a slice of orange on its rim complete with a tiny umbrella. I turned toward a movement in my peripheral vision and saw Maria emerging from the crystal clear water. Her body was bronzed from the sun, her skin covered with droplets of sea water that were like pearls on satin. Her gaze was fixed on me as she approached, a small and mischievous smile playing on her face. She reached behind her to undo her bikini top tie, but her top stayed where it was. Instead, her right hand returned holding a huge gun.

Suddenly, I was lying on my side and she was leaning over me. Her face morphed into the vicious and smiling face of a strangely familiar man... just before he shot me in the temple.

I heard the bang... and then I sat up in bed startled, sweating, adrenalin pumping through me, my heart beating at a million miles an hour. Poor Roger was lying on the floor, just in the process of picking himself up. The bang must have been his solid little body hitting the floor as I tried to move away from the gunman's gun, in my nightmare.

"Sorry mate," I said to the poor dog while patting his head. He licked it, demonstrating his wonderful doggy nature.

"You, my old fellow, deserve a treat," I told him.

I got up from my sweat-soaked bed and ambled to the kitchen, removed two Scotch-finger biscuits from an open packet in the fridge and gave them to him. Roger loves biscuits: human biscuits; he turns his rump on doggy biscuits and huffs away, insulted.

I wondered what the time it was, when the alarm on my mobile woofed at me loudly, and answered my question. Once I had turned it off, I called down to Sergio and begged for two double shot short black coffees. One of his girls, a particularly nice one by the name of Sandy was at my door a few minutes later, I thanked her and gave her a five dollar tip. She gave me a bright smile and left in a swish of eye-popping mini-skirted waitress uniform.

I drank the first cup in one go, then I lit a cigarette and slowly enjoyed the second one while absorbing the view from my small balcony. This was all mental preparation for the three calls I had to make this morning. I called Mum and Dad and gave them the bad news about the kid's parents and told them that Maria and I would be around later in the day to tell the kids.

"Must the little ones know right away? They seem so happy at the moment," Mum asked.

"I think so Mum, we don't want them to find out from the news or in other ways. Also I have to tell DoCS, and they may have some procedures to follow in this type of situation," I said.

"Okay Louie... we'll wait for you to come over," Mum finished sadly.

Next I phoned Dot, the social worker for DoCS. She was as upset as Mum had been but agreed that the children should be told as soon as possible.

"Would you like to be there?" I asked.

"No, I wouldn't," she answered right away. "But I need to be there, in case the children need some grief counseling," she added.

"What happens to the children now?" I asked.

"It depends how long your parents want to remain foster parents, at least until probate."

"In that case we have no worries there, my parents would probably want to adopt them. Do they have any relatives, do you know?" I asked.

"We couldn't track any down. I know that both sets of grandparents are deceased and both Mum and Dad where sole children," she said and then, after a brief pause, she asked. "When are you going down?"

" I haven't spoken to Maria yet, but if it's okay with her I was thinking to let the kids have a worry free lunch and get to my Parent's place by about one pm. Would that suit you?"

"Sure, that will be fine, Louie," she answered with no enthusiasm at all.

"Okay I will send you a text, after I speak to Maria, okay?," After her agreement I hung up and called Maria. She sounded pretty sleepy, but she was awake and whispered a hello. I figured that she did not want to wake Steve, who was probably still sleeping right there beside her. She said that the timing suited her fine. I texted Dot, confirming the arrangements we'd just agreed to.

Lastly I called John Richards and told him that we had found his clients, dead.

"What a fucking disaster. How are the kids? Do they know?" He asked.

"Not yet. Maria, the lady from DOCS and I are going to tell them this afternoon," I said.

"Terrible, it's just so terrible... er... listen, Louie I have to go now," he said and hung up. I wasn't sure if that was because he was going to get too emotional or because he had other things to attend to. The cynic in me felt he knew the answer.

I will not describe the afternoon to you. It was a traumatic experience for all of us. As I had expected the children took the news very badly. Mum held onto a crying Carly for a long, long time, rocking her and saying the stupid, meaningless things that you find yourself saying... and in Italian, which did as much good as they normally do.

She cried until there were no more tears left in her. The rocking, the holding tight, the soothing words finally allowed her to fall asleep in Mum's arms. Every time Mum would try to put her down in her bed, she would wake up and hold on tighter.

Maria had a similar heartbreaking experience with Tommy. Rico, using a very fine needle and his exquisite injection-giving technique was able to administer a mild sedative to both without waking them up. Finally we were able to put them in bed. Mum and Dad brought two cots into their room and said that they would spend the night with them -that way they would not be alone, should they wake up.

We finally left Mum and Dad's place about nine o'clock that night. Both of us were completely drained and we drove all the way back in silence. From the corner of my eyes I could see that Maria was still shedding a few tears as different thoughts and feelings passed through her mind.

Maria had previously arranged that we would meet Steve and Mike at her flat. So, I did not drop her off when we got to the Rocks, but parked Doris II, and walked with her to her door. Steve opened the door as we got there. One look at us and he did not have to ask how it had gone. Without the least bit of embarrassment he held us both in a long meaningful hug. The emotionally draining moment was thankfully broken up by Mike: "What about meee?" He sang in the plaintive tone of the famous title line of the song by the Aussie rock band, Moving Pictures.

He was so bad at it that we broke up laughing. We laughed for too long and too hard, more than just a hint of hysteria colouring our laughter. Once we had all calmed down, Maria poured each one of us a straight Jack Daniels on ice. We sat ourselves on Maria's lounge and lounge chairs, which were clustered around a polished timber coffee table.

Obviously, Steve and Mike had been intent on reviewing the case while they waited for our return. There were papers and photos spread all over the table, all had come from the ever increasing murder file that they were assembling as the case developed.

I glanced down at the untidy pile, not really taking much notice, while listening to Mike's report on the preliminary findings from the forensic examination of this morning's crime scene. "Was it really only this morning?" I wondered to myself, "feels like a week ago."

As I raised my eyes to listen more attentively to Mike's report, something on the table caught my eye. It was a small part of what appeared to be an 8 x 10 photograph, all I could see was a man's eyes. I leaned over and teased it out. I had been wrong, though, it wasn't a photograph - it was a computer generated image. A very, very cold shiver raised the hair at the back of my neck,

"I know this prick," I blurted out.

"What?" Steve said as all three turned in my direction.

"I said that I know this prick. Who is he meant to be?" I repeated.

"What do you mean you know him?" Steve asked, not understanding the context of what I was saying.

"That's the sketch of John Smith, from the Moore's description... and you say that, you know him?" Mike asked me, as if I had just claimed to have personally met Santa Claus.

# Chapter 8

"That's right, I know the son of a bitch," I confirmed, extracting my mobile and speed dialing a number I wished I would never have to call again. It was answered after the first ring. I mentally prepared myself for the abuse that was sure to follow.

"Hello, Louie, how nice of you to call. How are you? How are Steve and Maria?" She asked with a sickly sweet tone, which was worrying. What was even more worrying was that she sounded sincere.

"I am fine... err... Robyn," I Mumbled, surprised even shocked. Meanwhile, Steve was gesticulating angrily, mouthing several word, including "fucking... bitch... rotten cun..." And worse.

"Tell me Louie, how I can help you," she oozed, with all the sincerity of a father confessor.

"Robyn, before I get to that – are you sick; is it terminal?" I asked.

"Oh I guess that you expected me to hang up and be the usual rude bitch, huh?" She asked.

"Well, Robyn, last time we talked face to face you were ready to shoot me. After that, our relationship got even worse," I reminded her.

"Yes, I remember that, Louie, and I must apologise to you and your two friends for the way I acted."

The rest had to hear this! So, I put the phone on loudspeaker so they could all hear it for themselves. Just in time, I warned Steve to shut up and listen.

"Thank you for putting me on loudspeaker mode, Louie, I want the others to hear this as well," she reminded me that she was as sharp as ever. "After we resolved that problem with the neo-Nazi group, I finally got to go home and spend some time with my family. Well, Miccie, my young daughter, could not stop talking about you and Steve. How nice you had been to her, and all the nice things you had told her about me and the sacrifices I made on a daily basis in trying to protect our wonderful Country. Since then Miccie and I have spent a lot of time together. Finally, we are not just Mother and daughter, but we are close friends as well. I will be grateful to you two, until the day I die. Thank you Louie, thank you Steve," She finished.

Well, you could have heard that proverbial pin drop in Maria's flat. And I did not believe one solitary word of it.

"Anyway, enough about me, how can I help you, Louie?" She continued.

"Err... right, thanks Robyn," I faked blushing embarrassment.

"I meant it sincerely, Louie."

"OK, Robyn, do you remember that first time I worked with you?" I played along.

"Of course I do, Louie, you were shot and nearly died," she said. Was that a smile in her voice?

"Well, there was one of your operatives, I don't know if you recall. He and I had a bit of a disagreement."

"A bit of a disagreement? Is that what you call it? He had to be taken to hospital with a suspected concussion, and a broken nose."

"I had the impression that he was some sort of hit-man for you guys."

"My Agency does not employ operatives whose sole function is of the kind you describe," she stated officiously. It had the effect of confirming my suspicion.

"What was his name? Jack something?" I asked, keeping my tone even and almost disinterested.

"Jack Warner," she said. But some of the fake bounce in her voice seemed to have gone.

"What is he up to these days?" I asked, in a friendly kind of way, ignoring that the tone of the conversation had changed.

She paused and the silence was almost solid for a while.

"I am sorry Louie, I can't tell you what he is up to now. I really would, if I knew myself. About a year ago he just disappeared. We looked for him for a long time, finally we were forced to assume he had been killed. What made you ask?" She asked, some noticeable tension had crept into her voice.

"What do you mean he disappeared?" I asked.

"One day he just did not show up for work. We searched everywhere for him, but there was no sign of what happened to him. He was a fine and respected operative," she concluded.

"Really? I always thought he was a prick. I have bad news for you Robyn," I said.

"You do?" She asked, no honey left in the old crackling voice. "What?"

"Well, I am pretty sure that he is alive and well. But the worse news, is that we have strong reasons to believe that he is involved in the kidnapping and the subsequent murder of a prominent Sydney couple," I told her.

"You don't mean Dr. Reece and his wife?" This bitch was definitely involved somehow.

"The very same," I confirmed. She was quiet for a long time, I could hear key-stroke noises in the background and then she hung up. I looked from Maria and then to Steve we could not find the words to express our utter disgust.

"Fuck me! The bitch is involved somehow!" Steve shouted.

"I am afraid so. I need another drink," I announced and the other three raised their now empty glasses in a sign of agreement. While I got the drinks, Maria logged onto our server and researched Jack Warner. All she could find was just one page. She printed copies for each one of us. The next few minutes were spent in silence as each one of us read through the file, Steve making notes in his ever-faithful police pocket book.

Jack Warner, who was known to us as the elusive Mr. Smith, had joined the Army Infantry straight after school. His skill with guns had been noted early in his career and he was soon accepted for training in the prestigious Special Operations Command, where he trained in intelligence, surveillance, target acquisition, unarmed combat, demolitions, sniper work, reconnaissance and many other facets of Special Forces operations. He had received a Victoria Cross for his service in Vietnam and a number of other commendations for his service in a series of covert operations for the Special Ops. In 1980 he was seconded to the Australian Intelligence Agency as a special operative. He was unmarried, a non-drinker and a non-smoker. No special hobbies or interests were listed. It was an exemplary history of a brave soldier.

"What a heap of bullshit!" Steve exclaimed succinctly

"Crap. This is a very little for thirty-odd years," agreed Mike.

"And most of it smells bad," Maria said.

"Why the con?" I asked.

"He wouldn't be still working for her?" Asked Mike.

"I really hope not, even Robyn wouldn't go this far," I said, but did not believe it. "Well, let's sleep on it. Meet for breakfast at Sergio's?" I asked standing up.

"OK," they agreed as one.

"Good night, guys," I said and walked out. Down to Doris II for the short ride home, where ever-faithful Roger would be waiting, lead in his mouth.

# Chapter 9

For once I woke up actually refreshed. It was just past five in the morning. I grabbed a can of V from the fridge and enjoyed the first smoke of the day, watching the city and the harbour come alive. Roger was at my feet and he seemed a little depressed. Maybe he had the shadow of a nasty doggy dream.

"What's up boy?" I asked while reaching down and scratching him behind the ears. He let out a barely audible moan.

"Will a walk cheer you up a bit?" I asked. At the mere mention of the word 'walk' he was up and excitedly fetched his lead. "Is that a yes?" I said, smiling down at the old mutt.

I quickly put on the same pair of shorts and T-shirt, fetched my cane and allowed Roger to drag me down the stairs to the street below. I even let him decide the direction of our walk. I find that walking Roger relaxes me and allows me to sort out odd bits of disconnected thoughts into some sort of coherent plan for the day.

That morning, as I reviewed the case, I confirmed in my mind that we needed to find out more about Reece's work. A visit to his factory and a chat to his staff were long overdue. Meanwhile, the forensic team might come up with some clues for us to chase up. Failing that we were at the stage you reach in most investigations, where you run out of things to look at, and only some sort of lucky break will allow you to press on. Many times you don't get that lucky break, and the case is doomed for the 'cold-cases' files.

For a detective, there is nothing more frustrating. I have known detectives that nurse an icy cold case for years, reading and rereading the case file, in the hope that they missed something. Something that would give it a kick start. They will even take copies of the old files into retirement with them, never giving up hope. I had no intention of letting that happen to this case. Carly and Tommy deserved better, their parents deserved better.

Once we were back home, and while Roger enjoyed his breaky with many snorts and grunts, I resolved to place the search on Jack Warner into more capable hands. I speed-dialed his number on my mobile. He answered after the second ring.

"Hi Louie, how are you today?" Henry asked.

"Okay, Henry, thanks. How about you? And Frankie?"

"We are both good, thanks, Louie... how did that thing go?" He asked, referring to his help in finding the Reece's house. I spent the next few minutes telling him all about it. He listened without interruption, when I finished, he said, "I guess we need to find more information on this Jack Warner."

"Exactly... would you mind having a go?" I asked

"My pleasure, Louie. I'll get Frankie off to school and get on it right after that. I'll call you. What about this fuel additive thing. What was it? X something..."

"PZ-76" I said

"That's it! Want me to take a look?"

"Might as well, but I would be surprised if you find anything. Reece kept it real close to his chest and he suffered a great deal of pain keeping it there... anyway I'll leave it up to you and your magic," I said.

"I'll call you as soon as I have something."

"Cheers, Mate."

"Take care Louie," he said and we disconnected.

That done I went for a badly needed shower. When I came out I took a look at what the weather was doing, it looked like it was going to be another hot one. I decided to be a dare devil and wear shorts again, but all I could find was a pair of those things that come just below the knee. The next T-shirt in the pile I recognised as a present from Pip, my eldest bro. On its front it said "Detectives do it with a magnifying glass" below was a sketch of a naked guy wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat and using a large lens to look at his absolutely minuscule dick, funny man my bro.

Since I would be visiting the Reece factory I changed my mind and decided to go for a more serious look, so I picked a pair of beige chinos and black golf shirt, the one with just a tiny penguin on it. I noticed that I was about half an hour early for our meeting downstairs but decided to go down there anyway, grab a table, relax and enjoy a short black and smoke in the solitude of my mind.

I had just finished my first smoke, when my mobile barked at me from my top pocket. The small screen said 'Henry'.

"That was quick," I said with some surprise.

"I am still getting Frankie ready for school, Louie," he said. I could hear him smiling into the phone, "but an idea struck me, knowing what you have told me about that lady, what was her name? Robyn, I think."

"Yeah, that's her name, but she's no lady," I confirmed, wondering where this was going.

"Well, how sure are we that this guy's name is really Jack Warner?" He asked.

"Why, of course! I am a fucking idiot and you're a bloody genius, Henry. I would say that there is a zero percent chance that his name is Jack Warner. It's no wonder that we could find just BS about him." I exclaimed excitedly, almost spilling the remains of my short black all over the little penguin.

"So, I think that it would be a good idea to start from scratch. A copy of that identikit picture and a description, would be a great help," he said.

"I don't have one, but Steve and Mike are due any minute, I'll get one of them to email you a copy when they get here," I said.

"Great, talk to you soon, Louie."

"Thanks Henry, and good work already, Mate. Cheers." I replaced my mobile into the small pocket under the penguin.

Steve and Maria arrived together holding each other's hands. They made a nice couple together, but the scene was sweet and sour to me. Steve was the best friend any one could ever hope to have, and I wanted the best for him. But, I could not help wishing that it was me holding Maria's hand. I hit myself on the leg with my stick to push the growing jealousy from my mind and stood up to greet them with the warmest smile I could muster. A hand shake and a peck on the cheek and we sat down while we asked each other how we'd slept and all that stuff. Almost at once I knew that not much sleep had occurred for those two. So, I hit my leg again a little harder.

Once they had ordered their coffees, I explained what I had been doing with Henry, they both agreed that it had been a good move. Steve extracted a copy of the description and identikit picture of John Smith from his briefcase, "if you give me your keys, I'll go up, scan it, and email it to Henry right away," he said, standing up and offering his hand. I took the keys from my pocket and was about to hand them over, when I had second thoughts.

"Maybe it would be better if Maria went up and did that," I cautioned him.

"Why?" he asked, then as comprehension reached him. "You don't think, Roger... would get nasty, do you?"

"I just don't know, Steve, he doesn't like you very much at the moment," I said with just a hint of malicious enjoyment. Hey, I'm only human!

"Nonsense, he will be fine," he said, confidently. "You'll see."

"Okay" I smiled handing him the keys, "it's your legs. You can always borrow my other stick."

He gave me the finger and as he walked upstairs to my flat I smiled innocently at Maria.

"So, you had a good sleep?" I confirmed, and got the result I was looking for, as she blushed right to her hair line. She said nothing for a few moments.

"You can be such a prick, sometimes, Louie," She said finally, but not entirely in a nasty way.

"I know: that's me, a sometimes prick," I agreed philosophically. Steve was down, not long after, a worried look on his face.

"That rotten dog would not let me in. He tried to bite me!" He said, disbelief on his face.

"You always told me he was a smart dog," I commented happily.

"Very funny, you can be such a prick, sometimes, Louie," he finished, handing the keys and the sketch to Maria

"I am glad we can all agree on one thing, anyway," I commented wryly.

As Maria left to go upstairs, we were saved more detailed descriptions of my character by Mike's the arrival. Steve filled him on the Henry angle of the situation. I sat there thinking that I should cut out all the bitchy comments before they developed into anything nastier. I did not want to run the risk of losing my two best friends. It was my problem, not theirs, and I should deal with it. Deal with it a lot better that I had been doing so far. So, I hit my leg again to confirm that decision and then moved my cane out of reach before I did some serious damage.

Mike took out a preliminary report from the forensic team that had worked the dumpster site. But we asked him to wait for Maria's return. While we waited, Sergio brought around the breakfast menu for that day. I opted for the eggs Benedict on sour dough toast with avocado and smoked salmon. Steve ordered eggs, bacon and sausages. Mike went for pancakes, maple syrup and bacon. Just as Sergio was about to leave for the kitchen, Maria returned and after a quick scan of the menu asked for ricotta cheese on cinnamon toast. She sat down and said that Henry had confirmed the receipt of the email.

"Roger is such a sweet cup cake," she added smiling at Steve, who just raised his eyes to the sky, muttering, "blah, blah, blah," under his breath.

Mike then summarised the forensic report for us:

1. An ejected shell case was indeed found in the dumpster. It was from a Parabellum 9 mm bullet, which matched the calibre used in the murder. It had been probably ejected from a Glock 17. There were no fingerprints on it.

2. Footprints had been recovered from the top of one of the discarded oil containers. They had been identified as coming from Dunlop Volleys size 12. The tread pattern was not new and would be as good as a fingerprint, should we find a suspect.

3. No usable fingerprints had been obtained from the dumpster, it had been just too rough and dirty.

4. Tire tracks belonging to Lexus GX 470 tires had been identified near the dumpster. Since the burnt out Lexus had been fitted with that type of tire it was surmised that the Reece's own car had been used to carry and dump the bodies

5. Fibres found on the bodies matched the boot carpet normally used on Lexus models, however other, as yet unidentified fibres had also been found.

6. The wire used to bind the victims' legs and wrists was found to be identical to wire normally used to manufacture wire hangers.

7. The small piece of paper found near the scene had Robert Reece's bloody finger prints all over it. The R had been written using blood of the same blood type as the victim, DNA confirmation would take a little longer.

"And that's about it, for now," He concluded as our breakfasts arrived. We waited until Sergio and his girl had left before discussing the case any further.

"Anything from the post mortem?" I asked.

"They are not finished yet," Mike said. I could see that he wasn't too keen in talking about it over breakfast, which was completely understandable, as he probably had been present for the autopsy and did not want to re-live that experience. So I changed the subject, "I thought we might go and talk to the people at the factory today," I said. The eggs Benedict were absolutely delicious. "Do we know much about the kind of operation they had?" I asked.

"From what I can understand, it's not really a factory but more like a small office and a small laboratory complex," Steve said.

"I thought they made all these fuel additives that Reece had invented," I said puzzled.

"I think Reece developed his formulations in his laboratories and then sold or licensed the manufacturing rights to a number of already established manufacturers," Steve said after swallowing a mouthful of sausage and egg. "Mike, do you have the list of employees here, with you?" He asked.

"Sure thing," Mike Mumbled as a small rivulet of maple syrup started to inch its way toward his chin. He was quick to catch it with his tongue and then bent over to grab his brief case. "Err... here it is," he said straightening up and holding a piece of paper in front of him. "Mrs. Reece was the company financial manager. Then we have, an accountant, a marketing manager, three secretaries, one sales person, eight scientists or lab assistants and Mr. Reece himself. A pretty tight operation, considering they had an annual turnover of over ten million dollars a year," he finished.

"When I researched 'Reece Chemicals' online I found an article that had been published by the Financial Review on the Dr. Reece's and his 'jet-propelled' little company, as the reporter called it." Maria said, while gorging on a few atoms of her toast. "Hang on a minute, I made a copy of it." It was her turn to bend down and retrieve a sheet of paper from her satchel. It made me wish that I had brought something like a briefcase with me, so that I could reach down for some sort of important information as well. Maria read the article to us while still holding her almost pristine piece of toast aloft.

The article was full of superlatives and described the amazing success of Reece Chemicals. The reporter was very excited about the Company: 'jet-propelled little beauty'; he was excited about Mrs. Reece: 'absolutely enchanting' and he was excited about Dr. Reece: "a true-blue genius, who deserved the Nobel Prize"

"I'll ring now and get them all together," Steve said, taking his mobile out, then turning to Mike." Do you know who is in charge when the Reece's were away?" He asked.

"Yeah. The Marketing Manager, Mrs. Rhonda Phillips. Here is her number, Mate," Mike answered, mopping up the last droplet of syrup form his plate with his index finger. "R for Rhonda?" he asked, almost as an afterthought and looked for the number on his mobile.

"Thanks," Steve said and dialed the number. "I'd like to speak to Mrs. Phillips," he said when his call was answered then, "Detective Inspector Steve Lucas," the receptionist must have shit herself as he was connected to Mrs. Phillips instantly, "Good morning Mrs. Phillips, yes that's right. Mrs. Phillips, we would like to talk to every one... err... about 11 am, can you arrange that? Yes, that's right. No, I'd rather not discuss it on the phone. Right, see you then bye," he disconnected and grimaced, "she was very worried, concerned about Mrs. and Dr. Reece," he grimaced.

"Should we let Richards know? He is Reece's lawyer and the company lawyer, after all," Maria suggested.

"I guess you are right." So, I called him up. After an initial skirmish with the dragon lady that manned his reception I was finally put through. He was not happy about it at all and wanted to postpone it. When I suggested he speak with DI Lucas, he quickly changed his mind and said he would be there - not a happy camper when he hung up.

"Sounds like he wasn't very happy," Steve said, even though he had only heard my side of the conversation.

"He wasn't," I confirmed.

"Good!" Steve said, smiling. Steve, like Roger, does not forgive and forget easily. "R for Richards?' He added somewhat maliciously.

"How long, do you reckon, before we hear from Henry?" Mike asked.

"Hard to know, it could be in the next five minutes and then again it could be a couple of days," I answered. I wondered whether Steve had ever explained to Mike exactly who Henry was and our connection to him. Probably not - Steve liked to play his cards very close to his chest.

Reece Chemicals was located in a compact set of factory units situated in the coastal suburb of Sydney called Malabar, which is about twelve kilometres south-east of the Sydney CBD. Malabar was named after a ship called the MV Malabar, a passenger and cargo steamer that was shipwrecked at Long Bay in 1931. Prior to the wreck, the suburb was known as either Brand or Long Bay.

Long Bay, is famous in Australia because of the Long Bay Correctional Complex. This is where most of our "clients" end up spending the rest of their lives. The Complex is both a maximum and a minimum security jail. But, is probably best remembered for a concrete block called Katingal. It was the country's first super maximum security prison. Prisoners were confined to windowless cells one and one half metres wide by three metres long. These rooms were likened by their guests to being confined inside a submarine. Many claimed that its true purpose was to subject intractable and dangerous prisoners to a form of sensory deprivation. Katingal cost over three million dollars and housed only forty prisoners. Public protests by lawyers, crims, journalists and unions resulted in it closing down just after two years of operation. And so it goes.

The last one of the Reece Chemicals staff to attend the meeting, a salesman that had been on the road, entered the crowded board room, and then we were ready to begin. All had worried looks on their faces. A couple of the secretaries, who must have been just over eighteen were already crying in preparation for the bad news that they felt was coming their way.

We were sitting at one end of the room with Richards on our side of the room, Phillips and the rest were assembled in a shallow arc at the other end. The six female employees were sitting down, while four men stood behind them, ready to lend comfort. Steve stood up and cleared his throat.

"Good afternoon, I am Detective Inspector Steve Lucas. This morning, I asked Ms. Phillips to arrange for you to be here so that I could talk to all of you at the same time. First, I am afraid that I have very bad news, I am sorry there is no nice way of telling you this. Sometime between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning, Mrs. and Dr. Reece were kidnapped, tortured and then murdered." We all heard the cry of dismay from all of the girls and some of the men, the Reece's had been well liked. Steve waited a few minutes, before pressing on.

"As bad as this news is, I am charged with the duty of finding and arresting those people responsible. In the next few hours and perhaps, days, each one of you will be questioned separately by myself or Detective Sargent Mike Chen, here on my right. I ask you to please cooperate with us to the best of your ability. At times you may find that some of our questions will be personal and maybe a little intimidating, please do not be concerned, it is part of our job, and not a personal attack on any one of you. Ms. Phillips as the executive in charge at the moment and Mr. Richards as the Company Solicitor have decided that the company will remain closed for at least a week, at which time there will be a further meeting to decide on this Company's future. None of you will suffer any loss in pay during that time. After today please stay at home and we will visit each one of you for the questionings, if and when we deem necessary," He paused and took a sip from the glass of water that was in front of him on the table. "Are there any questions?"

After a short hesitation a young girl, in her early twenties, eyes red from crying, meekly put up her hand.

"Yes Miss?" Steve asked kindly.

"How... where are Carly and Tommy... the children?" She barely finished before a sob cracked through her voice.

"Thank you for your concern Miss Sullivan," Steve smiled sadly at her. "The children are as well as can be expected. They are being looked after very well. Please don't worry about them. When this is over we will bring them over to see you all, okay?" He reassured her. Still crying, she nodded weakly.

"Now before you go, I need all those of you that were in any way connected with the PZ-76 project to remain behind," Steve finished and sat down. He looked as drained as if he had just run the Olympic marathon. Slowly the room started emptying, many holding on to each other for comfort.

Three people remained behind. A very pretty Asian woman in a white lab coat stood up.

"I am Dr. Ester Wang. I was working on some aspects of the PZ-76 project with Robert, I mean Dr. Reece. Dr. William Harrison, here, was also involved. Miss Jo Rivers was mainly involved in typing reports of the tests we carried out," she said and then sat down. Her face was not inscrutable, she was visibly very upset and her eyes were red from the crying.

"Just you three? What about the rest of the staff?" Steve asked.

"Yes, just the three of us. Robert was security mad. He firmly believed that the fewer people knew about it the better. Even the three of us did not know the full formulation of the product, Robert kept that in his head. We were mainly involved in its testing," she answered.

"Are there any samples of the product hanging around and if so, how easy would they be to analyse?" Mike asked.

"There may be few small samples locked up in the vault, but only Robert knew its combination. I am afraid that the only way to get at them is to break down the door. It won't be easy, it's a top of the line bank safe," Dr. Wang said.

"So there is no sample and no formula easily available anywhere else?" Mike asked.

"Not as far as I know," she nodded.

"It is possible that the kidnapping and subsequent murder of Mrs. Reece and Dr. Reece is connected with their work on the PZ-76. Has anyone of you been approached by outsiders in any way at all? Or have you spoken about the project to anyone outside the firm?" Steve asked, switching 'on' his laser look.

All three were shaking their heads even before he had finished his question. A long moment of silence followed as he turned his gaze on each one in turn. Each seemed to shrink back a little as if they had been physically hit by a slap.

"I really need for you to be honest with me on this point. I want you to go and think carefully about two things. First, anyone can let something slip out inadvertently, but we need to know about it. Immediately. Second, non-disclosure may lead to you being charged as an accessory to murder. Just in case you don't know what that means in terms of the law. Being an accessory is the same as if you pulled the trigger of the gun that killed them." He paused to catch his breath, " sorry for being so blunt with you. If you are innocent you have nothing to worry about. If you are not, I am offering you the one and only chance to come clean. Thank you, we will be commencing the interviews immediately, but for now you may return to your work places," he concluded. But he continued to watch each one very carefully as they stood up and exited the room.

I knew what he was doing, he was observing their body language. I did not need that information. I already knew who had blabbed.

# Chapter 10

Richards decided that he had wasted enough time on these clients, they were deceased after all, and excused himself quickly.

"The rats abandon the sinking ship," I smirked.

Steve sat down and slowly turned to me.

"Never mind about him... So, which one?" He asked, knowing my answer in advance.

"What makes you think that I know?" I answered. It was just a little game we had started early in our partnership. One of many games we employed in an attempt to keep ourselves sane or from eating our own bullets.

"Because I know you. You miss nothing," he said and smiled.

"Neither do you. Harrison, that's who," I said. And Steve nodded in agreement.

"If we pick him first, out of the blue. It will unbalance him and he will start wandering if we know something," I continued.

Steve was nodding as if this was a normal procedure, which for us two it sort of was. Maria and Mike were staring at each one of us in turn.

Finally, Mike said. "Well, how the fuck, did you work that out?" Maria was nodding as if he had just stolen the question out of her mouth.

I tried to explain how I thought it worked for me.

"Early in my career I found that I had two things working for me as a detective. I can tell, pretty much right away, when someone is either lying or hiding something. Most people like you and I can only hold one thought in their minds at any one time. When they lie they must first come to a decision: truth or lie? With good liars that decision is almost instantaneous, almost. During this instant of indecision their body unconsciously reflects their thought pattern, often their eyes will look up, but not always. I think it is this minute undecided movement that alerts my subconscious. Secondly I was given an unusually sensitive sense of smell. I can smell a woman's particular perfume, days after she has left a room. I know right away if someone has had sex." Coincidentally, right at that moment I happened to be looking at Maria, and noticed a quick reddening of her features. I quickly diverted my gaze and continued, "I know if a woman is having her menstrual cycle or if someone has some sort of respiratory tract infection. I am the only person I know who can tell if milk has been exposed for just a few seconds to the sun's rays. The effect of the sun on butter fat quickly produces some butyric acid, an extremely foul smelling substance, which is one of the reasons why I have my coffee black. Often I can smell fear in people. People that lie always have the fear of being discovered. This fear is almost absent in accomplished liars, almost." I paused. "When Steve asked for the people that had been working on PZ-76 to remain behind. I noticed that Harrison considered, for maybe a few milliseconds, whether he should remain or exit with the others. That indecision alerted me. When Steve mentioned that being an accessory is no different to actually pulling the trigger, I smelled his fear."

"That's it?" Maria asked. "That's all you base your conclusion on? No physical evidence? Is that fair? How can you be sure you are always right?" She seemed to be truly incensed by the whole concept. Frankly, I thought that what really angered her, was that I would know if she had sex or not, illogically blaming me for intentionally intruding on her privacy.

"It's worked in the past," was all I said.

"You bet that it's worked," agreed Steve.

Steve and I were a very good team and showed an unusual rate of case resolution because I would literally sniff out the liars, he then would work on them with his penetrating gaze until they gave it all up, defeated. The system was not absolutely foolproof. That's because some people will just not break under normal police interrogation, which, I guess, is why torture was invented back way when.

"Yes, I have heard about you two, about your amazing rate of case clearance, mostly through confession. I always wondered how you two did it," Mike nodded

"What do you mean you have heard about it?" Challenged Maria.

"Back, in police circles, these two were known as the Inquisitors. Even crims called them that. There was even an Internal Affairs investigation, some people thought that they might be using force or something. Countless video tapings of their interviews showed that they never even touched a suspect. Shit, some of these video tapes were later used as part of our training at the Police academy," Mike explained.

"Okay, enough chit-chat, let's do it," Steve said, standing up. We left the boardroom and made our way to a fairly large laboratory area. As we entered, we could see the laboratory and secretarial staff huddled in a corner, probably discussing the bad news. Some of the girls were still being comforted. They all looked up when they noticed our entrance. Steve held Maria and Mike back while I advanced a few paces toward the small gathering. I looked around as if I was seeking enlightenment from the cosmos. Suddenly I looked down at them and fixed my sight on Harrison and said one clear word, "You." And pointed at Harrison with my index finger thrust at him. I then turned and returned to the board room, without a second glance to check that he was coming up behind me. I heard Steve say behind me. "Mr. Harrison, join us, we would like to ask you a few questions. Right now please."

"Why me?" Harrison blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Why not you?" Steve asked bluntly. "Something makes you special?" But, he did not wait for an answer but herded him into where he wanted him to sit – in the middle seat of the large boardroom table with his back to the wall.

Steve and Mike seated themselves directly opposite Harrison. Maria was to his right at the head of the table. I positioned myself so that I was standing behind Harrison, leaning on the wall. Steve kept Harrison waiting a few minutes while he looked through his police notebook. A few times Harrison turned around to check on my position - his nervousness mounting with every second. Steve extracted his small tape recorder, placed it on the desk, and then pressed the record buttons.

"You don't mind if I record this chat, Mr. Harrison?" Steve said looking directly at Harrison.

"I do actually," he answered. I was almost impressed. Harrison must have found his backbone and he was getting a second wind.

"And why is that?" Steve asked in a tone of voice that left no doubt in any one's mind that it was the most unreasonable thing he had heard in his entire life.

"I don't want to be questioned without my solicitor," Harrison said rallying to the task.

"I see, mmm... I see," Steve said and remained as if lost in thought for a moment, as if he was stuck, wondering what to do next. Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision.

"In that case, Harrison, you leave me with no alternative, I was really hoping to avoid this," he muttered with a huff of regret. He started to stand up leaning on the table as if he had been easily defeated. He turned to Mike.

"Detective Sargent, please handcuff Mr. Harrison, advise him of his rights. We are escorting him down to Darlinghurst Police Station where he will be charged as an accessory to murder," He ordered, his tone formal.

"Wait..." Harrison mumbled confused.

Steve ignored him completely as if he was no longer sitting right in front of him. Raising his eyebrows ominously he said, "right now Sargent!"

"Right away, sir!" Mike said snapping to his feet like a Marine. He made a big show of extracting his handcuffs.

"Wait a minute..." Harrison repeated, is momentary confidence leaking out of him like air from a punctured balloon.

"Mr. Harrison, you will be transported in a Police Secure Vehicle to Darlinghurst Police Station, where you will be charged, fingerprinted and your picture will be taken. You will be held in custody, pending further inquiries. A warrant to search your home and your car will be drawn up at the onset." Mike had meanwhile walked around the table and was grabbing one of Harrison's arms to apply handcuffs behind his back.

"Wait, wait a minute, will you... please! OK, OK use your fucking tape recorder," Harrison said, finally.

"Thank you, Mr. Harrison," Steve said not meaning it for one minute. He sat down, adjusted his notebook and carefully turned the tape recorder on.

LUCAS: This is DI Steve Lucas. Reece chemicals Board room, Malabar. It is now 3:14 pm, Monday, the 18th of January 2012. Present are: DS Michael Chen; Capt. Maria Wolf, consultant; Mr. Louie Breccia, consultant and Mr. William Harrison. Mr. William Harrison has agreed to help us in our inquiries of his own free will, isn't that correct, Mr. Harrison?

HARRISON:... err... yes... right.

LUCAS: Please state your full name, date and place of birth and your address, Mr. Harrison.

HARRISON: I am William Leslie Harrison, I was born on 4th July 1966, North Sydney Hospital. I live at 3 / 28 Fern Avenue, Pymble, NSW.

LUCAS: How long have you resided at that address?

HARRISON: About five years.

LUCAS: How long have you been employed by Reece Chemicals?

HARRISON: About the same time. I moved down from Queensland when I got the job.

LUCAS: I see. To whom and when did you speak to about PZ – 76?

HARRISON: I didn't... I

LUCAS: Oh no, Mr. Harrison we know you did. Whether you did it for profit or just because you are a fucking idiot we...

Harrison: Hold on, I didn't... there is no need to...

Steve slammed his fist on the table with such violence that it startled everyone in the room, except for me, I had caught the act a few times before. The little tape recorder bounced on the table and fell on its side.

"No need!?" Steve roared. Standing up so suddenly and with such force that his chair tilted and hit the floor with a bang. "No need? No fucking need? Two innocent people were tortured for hours. Then they were shot in cold blood right in the head, in a rubbish bin. Do you hear me? In a fucking dumpster! Dr. Reece had to watch his wife being shot right before his eyes... No need to call you a fucking idiot? I want to ring your fucking neck, that's what I really want to do!" He finished his tirade and started to move around the table as if to grab Harrison by the neck.

"Steve, please calm down, Mr. Harrison is dying to help us. Isn't that right Mr. Harrison?" I said quietly from behind Harrison

"Yes... yes!" Was all that a terrified Harrison could say, switching his gaze from Steve and then to me, not knowing exactly where the real danger lay.

"I'm warning you, Harrison, don't you waste my fucking time!" Steve said, looking at Harrison, his laser eyes at 110% power. He picked up the recorder, stopped it, rewound it to just before he had gone nuclear and then pushed it even closer to Harrison. Steve paused as if to collect his thoughts.

LUCAS: Mr. Harrison, to whom and when did you speak to about PZ–76?

HARRISON:... err...

LUCAS: Mr. Harrison, for the last time to whom did you speak about PZ-76?

HARRISON: I... I didn't mean to... I promise... I am so sorry... he...

LUCAS: This is DI Steve Lucas. Reece chemicals Board room, Malabar. It is now 3:20 pm, Monday, the 18th of January 2011. I am interrupting this interview so that Mr. Harrison has some time to... compose himself

Steve then very gently clicked off the recorder, as Harrison was now in uncontrolled tears of regret and guilt.

"William," Steve now spoke softly to him, his voice completely changed, fatherly. "Look, William, we understand that these things happen, anyone can make an inadvertent comment. You did not personally hurt the Reece's. You see, we need the information so that we can catch and punish those that did hurt them. You see that, don't you William?"

"Yes... yes... I am so sorry... I did not mean to... but he... he..." Each word was punctuated by more tears.

"It's okay, William. Look, we'll forget the tape recorder for now... why don't you take your time and tell us all about it in your own words, uh? Would that be better for you?" Steve cajoled in his sweetest of tones.

"Yes, yes I want to... may, may I have a glass of water... please?"

"Of course, Mate... here let me pour you one."

"Thank you." Harrison said gratefully.

Steve just smiled contentedly. He turned and winked at me. I smiled back, Maria grimaced.

"Please, William, when you are ready." Steve encouraged turning back to Harrison.

After a final sip of water Harrison braced himself. He started the sad tale of his perceived guilt. "I knew I was gay from the age of twelve, Detective Lucas," he started.

"I understand, William," Steve said.

"Everyone here knows, it was no secret, I wasn't blackmailed or anything like that. I... I live alone, for the most part I am comfortable with that, but once in a while I need companionship, so... so I go to a gay bar in the city," Harrison said. "About two weeks ago, I did just that. It was New Year's Eve, and I felt like celebrating," He explained.

"Do you go to the same place or different places?" Steve asked.

"Always the same place, Steve, The Lollipop Bar, in Taylor's Square," He answered. I grimaced. "Subtle," I murmured.

"Please go on, William," Steve encouraged, turning to give me the evil eye.

"That night I met a new guy. I had not seen him in there before," Harrison said.

"Did you approach him or did he approach you?" Steve asked.

"He came to sit right next to me and started a conversation which was immediately very flirty. I was intrigued from the start," Harrison said.

"Can you describe the man?" Mike spoke up for the first time.

"Yes, of course. He was about my height, but heavy set. I found out later that his heaviness was all due to muscles. Brown, but tinted, hair - you can always tell. Gray eyes, generous lips, a strong square chin. His hands were strong but not calloused, he had some sort of armed forces tattoo on his right arm," He finished and took a drink of water.

Steve nodded at Mike and Mike removed one of the artist sketches of John Smith from his file and handed it over to him. Steve briefly looked at it, "William, I want you to look at this very carefully, and tell me if this looks like the man you've just described, okay?" He said to Harrison as he passed the sketch over to him. There was no doubt what Harrison's answer was going to be from his startled expression as soon as he had glanced at it.

"But, but... how... did you?" He was visibly shocked and surprised, "yes, yes that's him! Steve. It's definitely John," he confirmed with a visible shudder.

"Is that what he said his name was?" Steve asked.

"Yes, he made a joke of it... he said to me 'You won't believe this, but my name is actually John Smith' and we laughed about it. I told him that he was my first John Smith ever," Harrison confirmed nodding. "So stupid of me, I guess that his name is not really John Smith, huh?" He added shaking his head at his own gullibility.

"We don't know his real name, yet. But he is a very good con artist so don't feel too bad about it, and is definitely involved... please go on, William," Steve said.

"Well we ended up at my place. I will spare you the details... we saw each other almost every night from then on, until... until that last night... when... when..." Harrison was once again becoming visibly upset, his whole body was shuddering, as if an ice cold jet from the grave had just enveloped him.

"When was that, William?" Steve asked gently, refilling his glass of water and moving it closer to him as an offering. Harrison took a small sip and braced himself a little.

"Two weekends ago... he invited me to his place... and..." He started.

"You went to his place?" Steve interrupted excitedly.

"Yes, he..."

"Do you remember the address?" Steve interrupted him once again, his excitement mounting.

"Yes... of course," Harrison said his voice trembling, not quite understanding the change in Steve's demeanor. "It's 2/30 King Street, Rose Bay. It's an older block of four units... near the park," He managed to mumble.

"You are sure of that address?" Steve asked, his expression no longer kind but demanding.

"Yes very sure, Steve," Harrison nodded shrinking back a little.

"Okay good work, William." And then Steve turned to Mike. "You know what to do." But Mike was already standing, moving toward the door and dialing on his mobile phone on his way out of the room. I guessed that a full-on SPG (State Protection Group) team would have Smith's block of flats surrounded in about thirty minutes, tops. Steve now sat down again, and in his former gentle tone encouraged Harrison to proceed with his story once more.

"Well, once we'd had sex on his bed for the first time. He asked if I was willing to satisfy him more completely, he confessed that he was deeply excited by S & M. By that time I was a little drunk and only too willing to please him, he had pleased me without release for himself for a few hours... I felt I owed it to him. Anyway, he took me to a spare room in his flat and showed me a rack he had in there."

"What do you mean by, a rack?" Steve asked, a little confused.

"A regular Spanish–Inquisition type torture rack. Except in shiny, clean stainless steel. Not an old wooden one, like in movies. The victim is strapped in and then an evil looking man slowly spins a huge wheel that winds the ropes and the victim is stretched and stretched and..." he lost his voice in recollection, his body trembling. He grabbed the glass and completely emptied it, trying to get a grip on himself.

"He asked me if I would get into it... he promised that he would stop if I felt too much pain. He promised that I would not believe the pleasure I would experience when he... err... sucked me while I was stretched out powerless. And just like an idiot I jumped in it," Harrison said shaking his head.

"Go on, William." Steve said in almost a whisper.

"No pleasure at all followed once I was strapped in! He just kept winding the damn thing, and winding it, it was so painful, so painful I started screaming, but he gagged me. At some stage it felt like my vertebrae were dislocating. It was a horrible feeling, and the pain was terrible. I was really screaming right through the gag, but I guess that's what he'd been waiting to hear. He stopped moving the wheel, and came closer to me and spoke softly into my ears. 'One more stretch, Billy Boy, and you will never walk again. I am going to ask you a few questions, and if you answer me truthfully I will release you and you will be able to go back to your life as if nothing ever happened, do you understand?' his voice was so flat and awful. I nodded that I understood. 'Good' he said to me, 'tell me what Dr. Reece has been working on that's so secret. Lie to me Billy Boy and it will be a lung machine for you from now on, understand?' I nodded and that's when I told him all I knew about PZ-76." Harrison concluded, spent, his head in his hands looking down on the table, tear drops pooling on the table's French polished surface.

"What happened next?" Steve asked, after allowing him a few minutes to calm down.

"I am not so sure, I must have passed out..." Harrison said, lifting his head. "I woke up in my own bed some twenty or so hours later. He must have injected me with something. At first, I could hardly stand up. Next to my bed I found a bottle of capsules with a brief note next to them: 'Take one of these a day and return to work, speak about me to no one... or else I will have to come back for you Billy Boy. Believe me you will not like that!' was all it said. Which is what I did, the last thing I wanted was to see him, ever again. I tried to see Robert when I returned to work on the Thursday, I wanted to tell him all about it. I owed him that much, he had been so helpful to me... but... but he was so busy. He told me to drop in for a chat on Monday morning... but by then it was all too late." He finished dejectedly. "Am I under arrest now?" He asked, the tone in his voice seemed to be begging. It seemed that he wanted to be arrested; he wanted some sort of punishment for his perceived weakness.

"No, William, I think you have been punished enough, and I know you will feel responsible for their deaths for a long time to come. But you must realise this: anyone else when subjected to terrible torture would have done the same. Even Dr. Reece would have wanted you to speak up," Steve said. And this time the kindness in his tone was not an act, he was completely sincere. Harrison just nodded, his face once again trying to find some salvation in the swirls of the polished timber of the table. Steve got up, walked to the door and exited without a word. Maria looked up at me with questioning eyes. I just signaled to her to wait a while, I felt that I knew what my friend was up to.

Steve was gone for about five minutes, when he returned he was followed by Dr. Wang and Miss Rivers, who rushed to Harrison's side and started comforting him and reassuring him, and all the stuff that women do so well. Steve signaled to us that it was time for us to go. Quietly, we left the sobbing trio and followed Steve to the car park outside the building.

In silence, the three of us leaned on Steve's unmarked police car, smoking, trying to release the tension that was still in our bodies. Finally, Steve said, "that sucked!"

"Yes it did. Good work all the same, Steve," I concurred.

"You guys... I thought the navy Seals were ruthless," Maria commented, after taking a long pull at her cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"We'd better get going, Mike should have everything set up by now," Steve said crushing his half-smoked butt onto the bitumen.

"Yeah, what are the chances that John Smith is still living there?" I said skeptically.

"Zero to none!" Steve said.

"Amen to that," I said.

"Aren't you meant to say 'ditto'?" Maria asked.

"Variety is the spice of life, my dear," I quoted nonsensically and we got into the car. Siren blaring, a screech of wheels, a blue cloud of vaporized rubber and we were off. In no time at all, we hit Anzac Parade and were heading toward Rose bay, in the Eastern suburbs of Sydney, at the speed of light.

# Chapter 11

Rose Bay is located seven kilometres east of the Sydney CBD and offers views of both the famous Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The Bay was named after The Right Honourable George Rose, a British politician and Secretary of the treasury, who was one of the most steadfast supporters William Pitt, The Younger \- the youngest British Prime Minister in history.

From 1938 onward, the Catalina flying boats operated from this part of the Harbour, making Rose Bay Sydney's first international airport. A ticket to London would cost more than the average annual income. The ten day long journey included over 30 stopovers. But perhaps, the most important passengers to use the airboat service were flown into Sydney in 1945. Relatives and onlookers stared in subdued silence at the terrible, skeleton-thin state of their returning heroes - the few survivors of the incredibly cruel Japanese POW camps.

The flying boat service continued to fly passengers from Sydney to Lord Howe Island until 1974, and as such was the last major flying boat base in the world.

We now flew toward Rose Bay, the screech of the siren reflecting our forlorn hope of catching the elusive Mr. Smith. Steve was in almost continuous contact with Mike, who was coordinating the deployment of the SPG team around the Smith's flat, where Harrison had been tortured. As we neared our destination, Steve switched the siren off and we cruised down Old South Head Road, the blue flashing light on the roof the only warning to motorists that a maniac was approaching them. Steve is an excellent driver, but when he is in a hurry, he is really scary to passengers and motorists alike.

As we entered King Street, Steve slowed right down and brought the car to a silent stop a few cars away from Mike's own car. There was no sign of the SPG team anywhere.

"Can't see the SWAT team anywhere," Maria said puzzled, using the term that applies to similar assault teams in her own country, the USA.

"They are here, we are just not meant to see them," Steve reassured her. Mike got out of his car and slowly ambled over to ours as if on a Sunday afternoon stroll. He leaned into the driver's side window, smiled and said. "Ready when you are, Mon Capitaine."

"Now is a good time as any," Steve said.

"Go, go, go." Mike said into a small radio he had been carrying next to his leg. Out of improbably small shadowed spots we saw men materialize in blue-black uniforms, bullet-proof vests, helmets, goggles and with their M4 carbines semi-automatic assault weapons at the ready. They entered the small doorway into the flats quietly and without fuss. A few seconds later, we heard the loud bang as the front door to the flat was sledge-hammered open. Some shouts as they entered the apartment, then quiet. A few more minutes later, the SPG Commander came down to the doorway and signaled us inside. As we walked past him, he stared at Maria and at me with a suspicious glance. He had been ready to forcibly subdue someone and by the look on his face he seemed to be considering that we might do instead.

The apartment was empty. It had been completely cleaned out, even the floor coverings had been removed. All that was left was the bare floor, the ceiling and newly painted walls.

It was almost empty - except for the body of an ugly looking man wearing size 12 Volley sand shoes, stretched out on a stainless steel rack with two bullet holes in his head. Here was one of Reece's assassins dutifully paid off for his work by our generous Mr. Smith!

Steve declared the flat a crime scene and the forensic boys were called in. We all knew that they were going to find nothing that Smith had not wanted us to find.

Maria and I were escorted out of the building. It was good to be outside again and the air was a whole lot better. Maria and I walked just around the corner and across the very busy New South Head Road to reach the promenade that skirts Rose Bay. We watched the sail boats restless at their moorings, their halyards providing a strangely pleasant monotonic symphony.

I noticed a small, about 24 feet long, yacht. It was yellow in colour, but what attracted my attention was its name: "Quo Vadis?" These were the words that Jesus' ghostly apparition had spoken to the Apostle Peter as he was busy fleeing from Roman persecution - "Where are you going?" He had asked of Peter. It made me wonder about the self-confidence of the owner of that boat and about where we were going with this case.

Every lead seemed to end up in a blind alley. We were no closer to getting John Smith or whatever his real name was than when we had started. I wondered about Dr. Reece's last message. Did the R really refer to his own name? It did not make any sense: he would have known that we would identify his body easily. Was he trying to point us toward his killers? If this was indeed the case then, he must have known at least one of his killers. R could stand for Richards, his lawyer. That did not make sense either. Richards knew all about PZ-76 already. Did it stand for Rhonda, his marketing manager? She did not look like a vicious killer to me. Anyway, all his employees had profit sharing contracts with the company. PZ-76 would have made them all millionaires a few times over, without any need for violence, murder and torture.

"What are you thinking?" Asked Maria, after a while.

"About this case. Nothing much makes sense so far," I said, shaking my head.

"For example?" she asked.

"Well, it's clear that John Smith already had some sort of inkling about PZ-76, even before he got to Harrison, so how did he find out? And why didn't he kill Harrison after he got what he wanted?" I said.

"Maybe he did not want to alert Dr. Reece. But what still worries me, is that I feel that somehow Robyn is involved. But, I can't figure it out, maybe the R even refers to her," she said.

"That makes no sense either, how would Reece even know about Robyn – very few people do. When you think about it, the note that Richards showed us makes little sense as well. Why send it? What purpose did it serve? Just a warning?" I turned around and added. "Come on let's go back, they should be pretty close to being finished by now, I am pretty sure that there isn't much in there to get forensically excited about."

We met Steve and Mike outside the apartment, they were leaning on Mike's car, watching the forensic unit packing their equipment away. As we approached, they looked up, they did not look very happy.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Even less," Steve said, Mike nodded.

"Nothing, even with luminol?" I asked, I had been hoping that luminol with its fluorescent properties, might reveal something. Something, we could follow up.

"Nope, the F-team reckons that the walls were scrubbed with bleach before they were repainted. The guy with the volleys was killed elsewhere and just dumped there for us to find. A taunt, probably," Mike answered.

"A real prick, our Mr. Smith," Steve commented.

"He'll make a mistake, sooner or later, they all do," I reminded him

"Yeah," He answered unhappily. "I just hope I am still alive to see it"

"What now?" Maria asked.

"Basically, at the moment we have a lot of unanswered questions. Your Mr. Smith has lead us from pillar to post, without giving us anytime to stop and think. We need some time to sit down and put all the crap we do know on a murder-wall and then stare at it and talk about it until we can start being a little more proactive in what we do," I said.

"He is not my Mr. Smith," Steve said defensively. "He is more yours than mine!"

"OK, OK, you know what I mean," I nodded. "Why don't we all go to my flat. I still have the murder-wall set up, and more importantly, Sergio's is downstairs and I have lots of grog," I suggested.

"Works for me," Steve said.

"Ditto," Mike and Maria said in unison.

Steve and I had adopted the idea of a murder-wall early in our partnership, and it had worked for us. I was pretty sure that Mike was familiar with it. As Steve's partner he would have been introduced to this tool by Steve, who likes to do things in much the same way every time. The careful notes that he takes during an investigation become a foundation for an accurate representation on the murder-wall of the case, as it develops.

You have probably seen it a hundred times on TV and in movies. Pictures and notes are pasted up on a board to summarize facts known about the case. Our murder-wall was something similar, except it was more like a time-line of events. Only by putting events in their true sequence in time could you hope to see discrepancies, relationships and missing information. We did not invent it. It is probably used in one form or another by every homicide detective team or squad in the world.

We got to my place around six pm, so we decided to have dinner first and then work most of the night on the murder-wall. As we got there, and while my three friends took their time with the menus, I quickly ordered my choices from just a quick look at Sergio's blackboard. I wanted to take the opportunity of going upstairs and fetching Roger. He needed his walk, his food and fresh water and probably a biscuit or two -this was going to be my only chance to get it all done. It wasn't going to be a long walk, but definitely better than none at all. Anyway, they tell me that dogs have no comprehension of time, ten minutes is exactly the same as ten hours to them. A notion I find as incomprehensible as quantum physics. Roger was very happy to see me and we were soon on our way past the table where my friends were still wondering what to order. Roger did not miss the opportunity to murmur a growl as he trotted past Steve.

We were back in about fifteen minutes, I took Roger upstairs and fed him his dinner and fresh water. And I gave him a stern talking to. "You, mister, must stop all this nonsense with Steve." He growled sub-voce at the mention of his name. "That's exactly what I mean. Stop it. Steve is my best friend and he is here to stay. Now you be a good boy. Okay?" He wagged his tail, especially once he saw the biscuits in my hand; but I was pretty sure that he was not convinced about Steve.

"If you are a good boy with Steve I will give you more than just a biscuit or two," I promised. He pricked up his ears, and lifted his ugly head from the bowl of milk, a drink of milk always follows the rapid inhalation of the biscuits, at the mention of 'biscuit' and I could almost visualise him saying "eeaauhh?" in a Scooby Doo-like voice.

"I am really cracking up," I warned myself and then left Roger to his milk and went downstairs to join the others for dinner.

We worked on the murder wall for four hours and then talked about it and shifted some things from one place to another. Connected events were joined by curved lines, possible relationships were shown by dotted lines. Anything that needed more investigation was circled in red. When we'd finished we sat down in an uneven arc in front of our handiwork and quietly inspected it. Each one of us was nurturing a drink of some sort. Mostly we were quiet from exhaustion and from just needing the silence to think.

Surprising all of us, Roger had been a good boy and had left Steve alone, earning himself almost a full packet of Scotch Finger biscuits. Most of them were given to him by Steve himself, which went a long way to mollify the crazy dog. But, not too crazy to refuse a bribe. After all, they were his favourite biscuits!

"Anyone have any bright ideas?" Mike asked after a longish period of communal silence.

"One thing," Maria said.

"Yes?" We all voiced in unison.

"Richards," she said.

"Yes?" we said.

"Why did he ring when he did?" She asked.

"He was concerned about his client," Mike answered.

"I see what you mean, Maria, good work," I said and I noticed Steve nodding.

"Well, will someone explain it to me?" Mike said in an annoyed tone. I bowed in Maria's direction to give her the proverbial 'floor'.

"I am wondering about two things," She explained. "First, how did Richards know they were missing at all, so soon after they did go missing? And second, why should that worry him? It's not as if they had been missing for a week or a month... it wasn't even two days. They could have gone away for the weekend."

"Yes, I see what you mean... and... the very short note that Dr. Reece went to so much trouble to leave behind did have an R on it... it makes you think," Mike said also nodding in comprehension.

"Correctamundo," I said smiling, and he smiled back.

"We need to have another chat, with our secretive-lawyer friend," Steve said with relish.

"You have been chafing at the bit to do that," I said.

"You bet," he said.

"You know what I like about you, Steve?" I said.

"My charm?" He asked.

"There's that, but also, your forget-and-forgive nature," I said.

"There's that," he agreed. "But you're no different," he added.

"There's that." I agreed.

# Chapter 12

"We are here to see Richards," Steve informed the Battle-Axe in the atrium to Richards' office. It was just after nine o'clock in the morning. Steve, Maria and Mike had picked me up a little earlier. We had decided to interview Richards early, before he had an opportunity to put us off.

"I am sorry, but you can't see him," the woman said. But her tone today was different. There was a hint of uncertainty, of hesitation in her voice.

"And why the fuck not?" Asked Steve a little too aggressively. She seemed to reel back a little.

"He... he is not here," she managed to mumble.

"When do you expect him, then?" Steve asked, a little taken back.

"I... I... am not sure... he... he is meant to have been here at eight. He was due to see a client at eight thirty... but I had to cancel... I don't seem to be able to contact him..." She answered hesitantly. "It's never happened before," she murmered.

"What do you mean you haven't been able to contact him?" I asked. She looked at me and her dislike for me was still there, almost as if it was my fault that she had lost her boss.

"I have tried to call him at home and on his mobile phone. There is no answer. Not since he left here to meet with you at Reece Chemicals," she added accusingly.

"What about his wife? Does she know where he is?" Steve asked.

"He is not married. He is a bachelor," she said, proudly, as if it had been through her doing that Richards had avoided falling into the hands of some gold-digging female wench.

"You'd better give us his address, Miss..." Steve said, extracting his ever-faithful police notebook.

"I am not sure I should... perhaps we should wait... you know?" She said, some of her old antagonism returning.

"We need his address now!" Steve insisted, raising his voice by a little.

"I can't..." She started to say, shaking her head. The gray- blue hair on it was so stiffly hair-sprayed that it moved as one hairy blob.

"What is going on here?" An authoritative voice said from the doorway behind us. We all turned and saw a well-dressed man of medium height standing there. He was about sixty and had the smooth look that all lawyers get from years of cajoling witnesses, lying to juries and objecting to judgmental decisions.

"And who are you?" Steve demanded in a tone he had perfected when interviewing the worse and most recalcitrant hoods.

"I am George Hawthorne, a senior partner of this firm," the man said a bit hesitant at first, but rallying near the end. "And, who are you?"

"Detective Inspector, Steve Lucas, and these are my colleagues," Steve informed him, as if answering a question from the witness stand. "We believe that Mr. Richards can help us with our inquiries, but it seems that he is missing," he finished.

"Missing? What do you mean missing?" Hawthorne asked, not understanding.

"I can't seem to be able to contact him anywhere, Mr. Hawthorne," the old battle-axe said in a meek tone.

"Have you tried his home, Jenny?" Hawthorne asked, some concern in his voice.

"Yes sir, and his mobile phone... and he had an appointment half an hour ago... Mr. Richards is never late... Mr. Hawthorne... never... I... I." And she started crying quietly, extracting a small embroided handkerchief from her huge bag under her desk. The smell of moth-balls filled the area around her like a protective bubble. Suddenly I felt sorry for her. Her whole world was coming apart in front of her and she had no strategy to defend herself from it.

"If you give us his address, Miss Jenny, we can go there and check that he is okay for you," I said softly, trying to be reassuring.

"There you are, Jenny my dear, the police will help us find him," Hawthorne said to her. He had now moved past us and was standing behind her, patting on her shoulder. "There, there..." He added reassuringly.

"I wasn't sure if I... I should give them Mr. Richards address, you... you know how private he is..." She said between sobs.

"Of course we must, Jenny. We have to help the police, don't we, Jenny?" Hawthorne said to her. He then turned to Steve.

"John lives at 9 Monica Close, Vaucluse. Detective please let us know as soon as you find him... er... Jenny is very worried," he added while still patting her shoulder.

"We will do that, Mr. Hawthorne," Steve reassured him. His tone was somewhat mollified. We started to walk out of the office when Steve turned around. "Please make sure that no-one enters Mr. Richards' office, until we know for sure one way or another, Mr. Hawthorne, Miss..." he added in an official cop-tone.

Vaucluse is a residential suburb situated eight kilometres north-east of the CBD. For many years, it has been one of the most affluent suburbs in Sydney. The area where Vaucluse is now located was inhabited by the Birrabirragal Aboriginal clan, who were soon displaced by European activity in the area, not long after settlement. The original Vaucluse House, from which the area derives its name, was built by Sir Henry Browne Hayes, who had been transported to New South Wales for kidnapping the daughter of a wealthy Irish banker, go figure!

Sir Henry, an avid admirer of the 14th century poet Petrarch, named the house after Petrarch's poem about the famous Fontaine de Vaucluse in southern France. Vaucluse stretches to South Head, the southern headland that guards entry into Sydney Harbour. The headland is called Dunbar point in honour of the sailing ship Dunbar, which, carrying 63 passengers and 59 crew, crashed into the rocky cliff at the foot of Dunbar point, also known as "The Gap".

After dark, on the 20th of August 1857, the weather was stormy, with a strong wind. In poor visibility, the ship's Captain, James Green, misjudged the entrance to the harbour and smashed his ship, the Dunbar into the rocky cliff. The ship turned broadside and was subsequently pounded to kindle against the rocks, by monstrous Pacific Ocean waves. The next day, crowds watched as breakers ground victims' corpses against the rocks.

Inside the harbour, the incoming tide carried naked, mutilated bodies, many by sharks, amid cargo and wreckage. There was only one survivor, a young sailor named James Johnson, who clung to a rocky ledge below the Gap for 36 hours. The funeral of the Dunbar victims was the longest procession Sydney had ever seen.

The Gap achieved further gloomy notoriety. It has become a 'popular' site for suicides - up to fifty suicides being reported in one year. One of the most famous and relatively recent, was the suicide of a young and talented TV personality. She, in a state of chronic depression, sent a very sad text message to her fiancée as a suicide note, just before she took the irrevocable step into infinity. It is stipulated that it was the first texted suicide note in the world - things change, but they remain the same.

The view from The Gap is breathtakingly beautiful. The cruel blueness of the Pacific calls to you as it seems to stretch forever. Look across the entrance and you will think that you can almost touch North head, even though it is more than a mile away. Most of the great harbour is clearly visible from where you stand, boats and ferries look like toys, right to the Harbour Bridge. But, be warned, look downward to the surf whitened rock shelf far below, and you will feel a strange attraction... as if you are staring into a portal to another universe – don't step through!

We spoke little as we sped toward Vaucluse. No one actually came out and said it, but I think we all expected bad news of one type or another. When we parked in front of Richards' house all appeared quiet and normal. It was a renovated double brick bungalow with not much of a front yard, but even from the street we could see that the views of the Harbour from his back porch would have been spectacular. A simple car port on the right side of his house looked after his Mercedes. The street was quiet with no traffic, peaceful and sleepy like it should be.

As we exited the car we stood around in a small group on the footpath, the peaceful atmosphere had an evil foreboding, an expectation of malignancy.

"Could be a trap," Steve whispered quietly, while extracting his Glock.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Two of us to the front and two to the back, very quietly," I suggested.

"Right, Maria and I will go to the front of the house, while you and Mike go to the back of the house \- that way each pair has a cop in it," he said, thinking ahead of possible red tape complications.

"Right," I echoed.

A small concrete path lead the way to the back yard, separating the car port from the house. A corrugated metal side gate, prevented access to the back yard, I just hoped it wasn't locked. I eased my hand over the top and found the latch, but no lock. I unlatched it and carefully pushed the gate open. Even though I had been careful it still squeaked mournfully – I guessed it wasn't used very often.

With our Glocks in hand Mike and I hugged the side of the house as we made our way to the back. Near the end of the house I could just smell something strangely familiar. It was very faint but somehow I felt that it was significant. I signaled to Mike to stop while I focused on the strange scent. I just could not place it. It reminded me of... Roger! The thought suddenly sprung into my mind. I turned and whispered to Mike.

"Dog... I don't know if it's still here." He nodded understanding.

I slowly poked my head around the corner of the house and took a quick look at the back of the house and at the back yard. The yard was small but tidy, with the ubiquitous Hill's Hoist in the middle of it and a Webber in one corner. There was a sleeping black dog on the small landing just in front of the back door.

"Old dog... maybe sleeping," I confirmed in Mike's ear. I had concluded that the dog must have been old – a young dog would have been in our faces even before we'd opened the gate. We moved back a little and considered what we could do. Mike signaled to me that he was going to take a look and I answered, "be very careful." He nodded and then inched his way back to the corner of the house. I saw him slowly poke his head around and then there was a shot.

Mike fell to the ground. Blood and brain matter spattered all over the path, on the fence, and on my face and chest.

For a fraction of a second I was transfixed. Stupidly not understanding, not wanting to understand what had just happened. Then instinct, instinct from many years in the police force, from training, from survival, took over - without hesitation, I dove past the back of the house, twisting in midair trying to face the direction of the house's back door. A move I had made hundreds of times before – all of them, before my leg had been irrevocably injured. It did not work out right.

I hit the ground at just the wrong angle, my gun pointing too high.

I saw John Smith standing right in front of the back door, his gun had also been pointing too high, expecting me to poke my head around the corner like Mike had done.

He shot first while I was still moving, it missed me, but not by much. He had quickly corrected his aim, too quickly. He was good.

I pressed the trigger of my Glock 31. It was set on auto. It loosened three quick shots within one second. All three missed but hit the wall behind him. Each hit closer to his head.

He shot again. But his aim must have been thrown off by fuselage and he almost missed again, but not completely – I felt his bullet furrow through the skin and muscle of my good leg.

I shot again. But by this time he was running very fast toward the back fence. He was over it like a champion Olympic jumper even though it was more than six foot high.

And then he was gone.

I tried to stand up and give chase, but I crumpled to the ground in pain. Both my legs were fucked now.

As I was dragging my useless legs toward Mike's body, I saw Steve and Maria rushing through the side gate. Then I passed out cold.

# Chapter 13

I woke up in a hospital bed. There was an I-V drip connected to one hand and one of those finger pulse meters to the other. I felt groggy and the room was dark and subdued. Steve and Maria were seated next to my bed. Both were asleep.

I had no trouble remembering what had happened. I went through the whole sequence of events in my mind. I remembered noticing that the old dog had not stirred throughout the whole episode – it must have been already dead. It had given Smith enough time to position himself ready to shoot Mike. It was probably why he had positioned the corpse of the dog so that it would appear to be sleeping. Smart prick.

Mike was dead, of that I was sure, and I had let it happen. Steve must be feeling like hell. And I had also let Smith get away – what a Royal fuck up!

"It wasn't your fault," Steve's calm voice alerted me to the fact that he was awake and looking at me. As usual, he had been reading my thoughts.

"Like hell it wasn't," I said hoarsely.

"He was a good cop and a good friend, Louie, but he knew the dangers of his chosen profession. He would be the first to tell you that," he answered.

"I got him killed and I let that cunt get away with it," I replied bitterly.

I closed my eyes and retreated back to the place of no thoughts, just bad dreams.

Next time I woke up, I woke up in a crowd.

The bed was surrounded by Steve, Maria, my Mum and Dad and my six brothers and Carly and Tommy. They were all looking down at me.

"Pity you are not an octopus. You would still have six good legs," my brother Pip was the first to speak up. "Have you considered that you might be in the wrong line of work, Louie?" He added with a big smile on his face.

"Bite my ass," I said trying to smile back.

"How are you feeling, Son?" My Dad's deep voice reached me.

"Okay, Dad," I lied.

Mum could restrain herself no longer; she started hugging me and crying and saying so many things in Italian that I could not keep up with the mental translation. But I got the general gist. Soon they were all talking at once. I smiled and nodded not really understanding much of it. I looked for Steve's eyes. Found them. He was trying to put up a good front, but I could tell that the loss of his partner and friend was still eating him up. Suddenly there was a lull in the plethora of conversations.

"I am so sorry, Steve," I said to him. His laser eyes flared from sorrow to instant anger. I had never seen them blazing with so much fury.

"Stop it, Louie!" He barked harshly. "I have told you already that it wasn't your fault. It's all Smith's fault, Louie, and only Smith's fault. Do you understand? Smith shot him, not you. It will be Smith who dies for it. I need your help for that to happen... so snap out of it, partner. We have a job to finish. Okay?" He finished, softening his tone.

"Okay, partner," I nodded.

My family hung around for another couple of hours. Mum fed me some of her miracle food. She was very happy to see that my appetite had not disappeared. No one, alive or dead, can resist my Mum's lasagna or her rum baba's.

Once they had all left, it felt like sound had ceased to exist, the silence in my room was almost painful. I had just got ready to slip back into a nap, when a formidable nurse entered the room, she took one look at me and smiled knowingly. I did not like that smile.

"Hi nurse..." I said meekly.

"Mr. Breccia, time for your walk," and her smile widened.

"Uh? Walk?" Was all I could mumble.

"We need to get that leg moving. Circulation flowing and all that," she said while ripping the covers off me.

"We?" I said.

"Let's go," she said as if she had not heard me at all. "I'll give you a hand."

"Gee thanks," I said. My bandaged leg felt like a block of wood, my bad leg still felt sore - at least some things were still the same. I swung my two useless limbs off the bed and attempted to stand up. The nurse must have been practicing flipping trucks over with a single lift - she caught me on my way down to the floor without any effort.

"There you are," she said happily. "See? No problem at all." I was hanging onto her with all my strength.

"Easy – peasy," I grunted, in pain.

"That's the spirit," she agreed and then proceeded to drag me around the room like a rag doll for about ten minutes. She was untiring and very informative. My leg would be fine and dandy. It was only a surface wound. I would have a matching set of scars, one on each leg. The girls would love them. The world famine problem would be solved. Global warming stopped and the meaning of life revealed. I considered changing the position of my arm on her broad shoulders to a headlock and squeezing till all breath left her. Fortunately, I resisted – she would have reduced me to mincemeat.

"See you tomorrow morning," she promised brightly, once she had thrown me back on the bed. I took it as a threat, but smiled wanly all the same - if that was her good side, I did not want to see her in a bad mood.

Once again I eased myself down ready to take that longed-for sleep, when a teenage boy wearing a white coat and a stethoscope entered my room.

"Now what?" I murmured under my breath. "A school excursion?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brecci, I am Doctor Day. How are we feeling today?" He announced brightly.

"Uh? Doctor?" I mumbled in surprise.

"Good, good," he said as if I had actually given a report. "Let's take a look at your leg now." He added brightly while uncovering my leg. He was standing on the left side of the bed so the leg he uncovered was my bad, but presently uninjured leg.

"Amazing!" He now exclaimed in alarm. "You have healed remarkably fast... but I expected less scarring."

"But doctor..." I started to say.

"Well done Mr. Brescee, well done... you can go home," then he patted my leg and left.

"But... that's..." was all I could say before he disappeared in a blur of white. I sat there staring at the closed door for a few seconds in utter bewilderment, then I shrugged and started to settle down deeper into the bed for that elusive nap.

"I cup of tea, love?" A kindly voice from the door shouted at me just as I closed my eyes.

I sprang up again, startled.

"What the fuck?" I grunted under my breath, and taking a bleary, one-eyed look toward the now open door. A middle aged lady in a blue uniform was standing next to a huge cart, which was filled with all the beverages known to mankind on it.

"Err... no thanks," I answered her, and then more quietly to myself. "I need to get out of here."

I struggled up, leaning on the chair that was beside my bed, I managed to stand up. The pain was not so bad, it only made my eyes water for a few seconds. Using the chair as a walking frame I slowly made my way to the small wardrobe at the corner of the room. The IV stand followed me like an obedient dog, its wheels squeaking in protest. In the wardrobe I found salvation - a bathrobe, my faithful cane, my mobile and my wallet. I pulled the I-V off my hand with some difficulty. Between holding to the chair with one hand and then the other while my legs trembled as if an earthquake had hit the building, it took only about ten minutes to get the bathrobe on. Using the cane on one side and the IV tree on the other as supports I made my way to the door, opened it with some difficulty and then negotiated the corridor outside. I was sure I would be stopped and sent back with dire warnings. But no one took any notice of me, the corridor already had a number of similarly bath-robed figures perambulating to and fro, no doubt looking for escape routes.

I made it to the lifts in less than half an hour, pressed down, waited. The lift came, it had a couple of other patients in it already. We made our way to the ground floor. Like a procession of the sick and infirm looking for miracles at Lourdes, we all headed for the front door of the hospital, my companions already getting their longed-for smokes from hidden packets, into their mouths.

A lady about my age must have noticed my hungry expression.

"Would you like one?" She asked smiling.

"Thank you very much," I said gratefully. She lit it for me immediately outside the door and then fired-up her own. We both took long, silent sucks as if our lives depended on them.

"That is really great, thanks," I said.

"Don't worry about it, love. Have you been here long?"

"Too long," I answered her, getting my mobile out. "But, I'm making a break for it," I told her.

"I'm staying right here," she said with vigorous head-shaking. "This is the best holiday I've had in years. Hubby-bubby is looking after the kids, the dogs, the washing up and the cleaning. Why would I want to leave?" She added with a dreamy expression.

"Fair enough," I said and dialed a taxi company and asked for a cab. By the time we had finished our smokes the cab had arrived. She helped me into it and promised she would take care of the I-V tree I was about to abandon.

"Thanks, you take care now," I said closing the cab door.

"I sure will," she assured me and headed for the hospital doors with a definite spring in her step.

I told the cabby where to go and then relaxed in the back seat. I needed to figure out how I was going to go up the short flight of stairs to my small flat. Instead I fell asleep.

"Sir? Wake up, sir," the driver's voice brought me back to reality some time later.

"Uh?" I croaked, struggling to come awake. Both my legs informed me that whatever pain killer they had been flowing into my veins was now wearing off fast.

"Fuck!" Was my next comment on life in general.

"We are here, sir," the driver informed me, politely ignoring my swearing.

"Uh? Oh okay thanks, how much do I owe you?" I answered. I paid him and gave him a sizable tip, "Do you mind giving me a hand getting out?" I asked opening the car door.

"Sure, no problem," he said with not much enthusiasm. But he did get out and walked to my side of the cab and between us and my cane we managed to stand me up outside the cab. He returned to his place behind the wheel after I'd thanked him once more before he departed quickly.

The first person I saw was good old Sergio who now rushed over to me. "How are you Louie? Out already?" He asked as he hugged me affectionately, almost knocking me down.

"I'm good, Sergio, thanks," I said

"Louie, you don't look so good. You're white like a sheet, are you sure you should be here?" He asked with concern, while holding on to me as I swayed like a tree in a storm.

"I'm fine, Sergio, I just want to get up to my flat... I'll be okay, don't worry..." I reassured him, feeling my head beginning to swim.

"Let me help you."

Somehow, I don't really remember how, we managed to get me up those stairs and into my flat. Roger was there to greet me as if I had been away for centuries. Sergio got me into bed. Roger jumped up beside me, just missing my newly injured leg by millimetres. I managed to remove the uncomfortable hospital gown, pulled the sheet up and, finally, thankfully, I passed out.

I woke up feeling like I that I had just run the Olympic marathon twice, backward. My whole body was sore and my legs were throbbing painfully. As I opened my eyes I was startled by someone standing ominously over me.

I relaxed with a sense of relief, once I recognised Sandy, one of Sergio's young and pretty waitresses. She was holding a tray of delicious smelling food in front of her, she was smiling down at me.

"Good morning, Mr. Breccia. How are you feeling?"

"Like death fried, over-easy," I replied, turning very slowly to face her. "Call me Louie, Mr. Breccia sounds like my grandfather."

"Well... err... I will, but that's only because part of you seems to be very glad to see me," she said, her smile broadening into a mischievous grin, as her eyes momentarily shifted south, away from my face. I looked down, following the direction of her gaze. All I had on me was a bed sheet. Under it, I had the most outlandish erection in history. Shit, it looked like Sitting Bull's tepee.

"Er... sorry, the drugs at the hospital... maybe," I mumbled, while trying to raise my legs so that it would be hidden to obvious view. But neither leg responded, both seemed to be cemented to the bed.

"Well, they must have been giving you Viagra intravenously," she smiled, still looking down at me... my... "I can't put this on your lap, it will topple over. We will have to fix that first," she added.

"Uh?" I answered. It was becoming my favourite word.

She smiled and slowly bent to her knees placing the tray on the bedside table. In one swift movement, she moved the sheet off me and without hesitation, lowered her mouth over... well, it's not rocket science – you work it out!

I was definitely going to protest, definitely, believe me. But, somehow, that intention got lost in waves of pleasure that hit me like a wall – it had been a long time, a long, long time.

But, it was not long before the waves of mindless intensity overcame me and I was trapped in spasms that seemed to be never ending. I moaned, she moaned... I think even Roger moaned

"Was this a dream?" I wondered in a semiconscious state. Opening my eyes I saw that it wasn't, she was still there holding me with a smile on her slightly swollen lips.

What it had lacked in endurance it made up in recovery, the mindless thing between my legs was coming back up for an encore. She let go, stood up and carefully straddled me. She guided it, past her panties and into her now very moist inner self. It was an unbelievable feeling as she slowly lowered herself onto me. We stayed like that for long moments as her muscles squeezed me in rhythmic waves. Slowly she started to move up and down on me. As her pleasure and excitement increased, her pace increased. I did not think that anything could feel so good, but it seemed to get better and better... until we both shuddered, cried out, held tight, trembled, squeezed, spurted, shuddered and cried out some more. Spent, we just held on to each other.

We laid there for what seemed to be a long time, our breaths heavy in each other's ears.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," she whispered.

"You did?" I asked hoarsely.

"Yes," she whispered and nibbled my ear. "But now... I better get back to work, before Sergio sends a scouting party," she added. Easing herself up, "be right back," she said huskily, while heading for my bathroom. She was not gone for long. When she returned she smiled at me.

"You look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

"I can't move my legs, but I have never felt better. That was very... very..." I stammered, smiling back.

"Repeatable?" She suggested.

"Very repeatable, extremely so," I agreed. "I sure like your idea of room service," I added while she picked up the tray of food, placing it on my lap, her hands brushing my dick once more. I noticed, it noticed, she smiled.

"Better have something to eat now, Louie. We need to keep you strength up. Back soon," she promised and kissed me lightly on the lips. She walked toward the door, turned and winked at me and was gone. I sat there in a daze – what had just happened?

Would I wake up now? Roger whined by the side of the bed, and it brought me back to reality. I looked down at him.

"Did you see that? Did you see what just happened?" I asked.

"Mroughf!" Was his only answer. So I gave him one of the bacon rashers. It disappeared down that gullet faster than superman. How do dogs do that?

As I ate my breakfast, I re-lived the last thirty minutes or so, but I still could not believe it. Sandy was a post-graduate student and worked for Sergio part-time. She was tall and shapely. She had an incredibly pretty face with a small, slightly upturned nose, a small cleft on her chin and big beautiful brown eyes. Her hair was thick, brown and glossy. I had noticed her in the past as she was unmistakably very attractive. But the idea of actually having a relationship with her had not entered my mind... I just thought of her as one of Sergio's girls and hence off limits... but, now? Now what?

"I better get my mind off it, Roger, my boy. Let's see if I can get up by myself," I said to the old dog. But he ignored me completely. His attention was focused on cleaning up the remains of my breakfast from the plate I had placed on the floor for him.

"No need for you to help, just continue as you are," I said and moved one leg and then the other over the side of the bed. That took more than ten minutes. Grabbing hold of my cane I tried to lift myself up, but the tension in my thigh muscles sent urgent messages of intolerable pain to my brain. I looked around for more support, but I could see nothing helpful. So, I lay back down and relaxed for a bit, the pain slowly reduced and I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew was that my mobile was barking at me and so was Roger.

"Hello?" I said, still sleepy and more that a little dazed.

"Where the fuck are you?" Steve's angry voice demanded.

"At home in bed, why?" I said innocently.

"WHY? Why? Half the hospital is looking for you... you did a runner, didn't you?" He concluded still angry.

"Might have," I admitted.

"You are supposed to check out, not run for your life, you idiot!"

"Hey, when my doctor comes in and examines the wrong leg and tells me it's healing nicely, it's time to run. I just managed to crawl out, running was not on the menu," I said defensively.

"Did he? That is funny!" He said breaking up. "So how are you?"

"Bloody sore and unable to get up from my bed."

"Okay, hopeless, we'll be over in a tick. I'll get you some pain killers on the way, take it easy, Mate," he said and hung up

"Sure I'll take it easy," I said to an empty line. "Where am I going to go?"

Half an hour later Steve and Maria marched into my flat. Both were shaking their heads at me as if I was a basket case.

"Pain killers?" I muttered, ignoring their silent reprimands.

"Here," Steve said, shaking a paper bag with a local chemist's name printed on it. Maria took it from him and went to fetch a glass of water. Just as I was about to swallow three of the capsules, a familiar voice from the door said, "Room service... oh please excuse me." I coughed and spluttered, water and pills sprayed all over me.

Sandy was making her way toward my bed, aiming for the tray on the bedside table. She smiled and winked at me as she picked up the tray. She was wearing a very short miniskirt and she turned her back on me, ready to go back.

"Oops!" She said as she seemed to accidentally drop a fork to the floor. She bent down to pick it up quickly. It was only a quick flash, but I could see that she was no longer wearing the panties. My heart missed a beat.

"Let me know if you need anything else, Lou... err... Mr. Breccia," she said, turning around, smiled and was gone. Steve's eyes were boring into me. He knew right away. I knew he knew and he knew that I knew that he knew. I smiled wanly. He smiled back.

"What?" Maria asked, puzzled. All she knew was that she did not know what was going on.

"I think Louie is feeling a lot better already," Steve said.

"You bet," I agreed.

"You two are too much," Maria said annoyed.

"Help me up, would you?" I asked Steve. "Err... Maria would you mind just stepping out for a minute, I am not really decent," I added. As she left, Steve picked up a pair of shorts and threw them at me.

"Here you better put these on, or I'll join Maria," Steve warned.

"Right, and how the fuck do you think I'm going to do that? I can hardly move my legs," I pointed out. "If you can't stomach it, I can always ask Maria to do it... it's up to you, she is your girl, after all." I added, smiling.

"Okay, okay, but you are going to owe me big for this," he warned again.

With Steve's help I was soon standing beside my bed, naked.

"Now what?" He grunted, averting his eyes and standing about two feet away from me.

"Shorts?" I suggested.

"How?" He asked, hoping for an alternative solution to the obvious one.

"You need to get my feet into them and then pull them up... how else?" I asked.

"Right," he said gritting his teeth. As he was bending down in front of me to put my feet into the shorts, we heard Maria say from the doorway.

"You boys should get a room," and she laughed a full throaty laugh. Startled, Steve tried to jump back and away, but as I was holding onto him, so he only succeeded in dragging me with him - we ended up in a pile on the floor. I was screaming from the pain. Steve was screaming because I had landed with 'it' right on his face. I am not sure what happened after that, as I passed out. Steve may have beaten me to it.

I woke up sitting on one of my lounge chairs looking toward Sydney Cove. I had a pair of shorts on and a T-shirt. The bandage on my leg was fresh and no longer bloody. Next to my chair: a drink, a packet of smokes, lighter, mobile and the pain killers. I looked up and Steve and Maria were sitting in front of me - one of them was relaxed and smiling.

Steve's face was quite red as if he had scrubbed it with a nail brush.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Maria, dressed you," Steve said unhappily.

"What happened to your face?" I asked, but I knew.

"He scrubbed it raw," Maria said and laughed.

"That was a fucking nightmare!" Steve said. "It would not have been so bad if you had the decency of being normal!" He added with a grimace.

"Sorry... I could not resist you a minute longer, Hughie," I said blowing him a kiss. I usually avoid using the diminutive of his correct first name: Hugo.

"Do that again and I will shoot you," he warned.

"It must have been very funny to watch, Maria," I scolded her.

"Oh it was... and I videoed the whole thing so that we can enjoy it again and again," she said, laughing once more

"You did what!?" Steve shouted jumping up.

"Just joking sweetie," she reassured, calming him down with her hand and a sweet innocent look on her beautiful face. It worked on him, but I suspected that she did have it on her phone.

We sat there quietly for a while. All of us knew what we needed to talk about. No one wanted to go there.

"One of you needs to fill me in," I said finally.

"We found Richards in the house. He wasn't dead, but he died on the way to the hospital. Smith had time to question him about something, but we must have interrupted him. We don't think he got what he wanted. Steve cordoned off the entire area, but he slipped through, somehow. We have no idea where he is or what he wants. Searches of Richards' house and office have revealed nothing to date. Mike's funeral is tomorrow," Maria spoke in a flat monotone, sounding off each sentence like shots form an automatic pistol. Steve just stared into his lap.

"Steve was almost suspended," she added grimly.

"Why?" I asked surprised.

"A police officer was killed, a civilian was DOA, and another was injured. The powers that be feel that you and Maria should not have been involved. They feel that I should have called for backup. They should have suspended me." Steve explained, guilt and remorse thick in his tone.

"What a lot of bull shit, we did not have the time. As it was, we were too late to save Richards, anyway. Maria and I are not run of the mill civilians - we are fully trained. What is this crap about, Steve?" I said getting angry.

"Things might have been different if I'd called for backup," Steve said. "Mike might l be still alive."

"But this is 20/20 hindsight. We don't know ifs and buts. If there is anyone to blame for Mike's death, it's me. I should have known better when I saw that dog lying there. I am a fucking idiot," I said disgustedly.

"Blaming your selves is not helping. We need to regroup and start thinking straight about this. We need to catch this asshole and take him down. Now, wake up to yourselves," Maria's voice was harsh and impatient, like a teacher who has finally lost her patience with an unruly class of teenagers.

We sat there in silence. Each one of us reflecting on the past. Two of us unable to let it go and look to the future and to do what must be done next. After a while I started to struggle to get up off that chair.

"What are you doing?" Maria looked up alarmed, and getting up to either help me or to push me back down again, probably the latter. Steve grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"He needs to get up and pace the room. He can't think sitting down," he told her. "He can't think while he is sitting on his brain," he added with a glint in his eye

I gave him the finger, and with a lot of straining, blood thumping in my ears, sweat forming on my face, I slowly eased myself up. I remained there for what seemed to be an eternity, swaying on the spot like a drunk, legs trembling.

One hesitant step, leaning on my cane, then another and I was off, sort of. The going was excruciatingly slow, but I was moving. Roger got up from sitting beside me and followed close behind as I 'paced' the room. Steve and Maria watched me with mixed expressions of bewilderment and disbelief.

As I orbited the room I reviewed the case by going past the murder wall, each revolution allowing me to divert my attention from my throbbing legs to focus it on each facet of the investigation.

"It's obvious that, in spite of all the torture and murder he has had to do, Smith does not have the formula yet. What is he going to do next?" I said, thinking aloud.

"Break into the factory?" Maria suggested.

"Kidnap someone else?" Steve proposed in turn.

"All of the above and what else? Who else?" I agreed, pacing. "How are we most vulnerable?

"The kids!" Maria said immediately.

"Yes, I must warn my family, right now," I agreed and moved slowly toward the coffee table, where my mobile had been placed.

"For God's sake!" Steve exclaimed, becoming impatient with my lack of progress. He picked it up and football passed it at me.

"Thanks," I said catching it one handed. I speed dialed. It was answered after just one ring.

"It's Louie," I said.

"Louie! How are you feeling? We are coming down to see you today," my brother Pip said, enthusiastically.

"I'm good, Pip, but don't worry about coming down to the hospital. I checked myself out," I told him.

"What? Are you crazy? Wait till I tell Mum and Dad," he said alarmed and was well on the way to one of his sensible but never ending lectures. But I interrupted him.

"Listen Pip, just listen a minute. You need to be extra careful with the kids, they need to be watched 24/7, Bro. That Smith fellow is getting desperate and there is no telling what he will do next. Tell everyone to be careful, any strangers show up - call the cops right away, okay?"

"Okay Louie I'll make sure that there are two of us with the kids at all times. You need to catch this prick, Louie, catch him and put him down," Pip said, leaving no doubt what he meant.

"I hear you, Bro, doing our best. Love to Mum and Dad, gotta go Pip... and thanks," I said

"No worries, Louie, look after yourself... cheers, Bro," he said but his tone was not cheerful in the least.

"Cheers, Pip," and we hung up.

"What's next?" I asked Steve and Maria.

"The factory," Maria reminded us.

"That's right, we need someone to open that safe and remove those samples of the PZ – 76 from there and put them somewhere safe, where he can't get at them," Steve agreed quickly.

"We need to be more proactive and less reactive, if we are going to get anywhere," I commented.

"Yes, but how?" Maria asked.

"Not sure yet, but I'm working on it. An idea is coming, but I want to mull over it a bit longer," I said. "Then you two can tear it apart," I added smiling.

The three of us were lost in our own thoughts for a few minutes. The room was silent except for Roger's snoring by my side.

"I wonder what happened to Henry." Maria asked out of the blue - just as my mobile barked. I pressed the green button.

"Hi Louie," Henry's voice greeted me.

"Hi there," I said into the phone. "You are one scary lady, Maria!" I said to her, shaking my index finger at her. She smiled back, a mock evil expression on her face.

"How are you Louie? I heard you got hurt, but when I turned up at the hospital they told me you had left, are you OK?" Henry asked with concern in his voice.

"I'm good Mate, just don't like hospitals, better off at home," I reassured him.

"I hear you, I hate them too... I have some good news, but I prefer to see you guys face to face. How about if I drop in? I'm in Sydney Town at the moment anyway," Henry said.

"Anytime, Mate. I'm not going anywhere for a while. When were you thinking of coming over?" I asked.

"Say, in about ten minutes, does that suit?"

"Absolutely perfect timing, Mate, we are all here, just come right up... err... you need the address?"

"Got it, see you soon," he said and hung up.

"He is coming over now?" Steve asked.

"Yes," I nodded. But, it was time to sit down, right now.

I stumbled toward the chair and collapsed into it, cold sweat covering my face. My legs were sort of shivering like I had a bad case of Parkinson's. I smiled wanly when I caught site of the concern on my two friend's faces.

"Are you all right?" Maria asked.

"I'm good," I lied. I got a smoke out and lit it, trying to distract all of us from my condition.

"You feel like crap, uh?" Steve concluded.

"I'm good," I repeated.

"Yeah, right," he said.

"I'm good," I repeated again. If I said it enough times, one of us was bound to believe it. I inhaled deeply and hoped that the room would stop rotating.

It did.

It disappeared altogether.

# Chapter 14

When I woke up the next time, I was still sitting in my chair and now there were three faces looking at me.

"Henry!" I croaked, but it did not sound like my voice. "Nice to see you, how did you get here so quickly?"

"He has been here for a while, Louie. You passed out again," Maria scolded me. "You keep going like this and you are never going to get any better."

"The nurse said I should exercise my legs," I protested.

"Really? Would you like me to call Rico and ask him about it?" Rico is my brother, who is also a GP.

"He is a fuss pot. He would probably agree with you," I said, then putting my palms up in surrender. "Okay, okay... I will take it easy. Please, don't call him or we will have the whole of the Breccia clan here in an hour."

"I think we should order some lunch from Sergio and have it brought up," Steve suggested, coming to my rescue.

"Great idea, Mate," I said with some relief.

"You two, always stick together," Maria commented in mock annoyance.

"Hey, Steve and I have a special relationship, now," I answered, blowing Steve a kiss.

"Don't remind me..." Steve grimaced. "Take a look at this, Louie," he added, standing up and cautioning me not to speak. He went two different places around my apartment at specific spots. I made a questioning motion with my eyes and raised eyebrows. Henry wrote a short message on a pad in his lap. I could see that a number of short messages had already been written on it. "Electronic bugs – state of the art." It was succinct and to the point.

"Smith?" I wrote.

"Bound to be," Henry wrote back.

"Let's get rid of them," I wrote back, getting angry at my privacy having been violated so easily.

"Suggest you leave them there. Might be useful."

"Misinformation?" I wrote, understanding.

"Exactly," Henry answered. While Henry and I were writing notes to each other. Steve and Maria were carrying on a conversation about lunch. I guessed that this was to avoid arising the suspicion of the would-be listener.

"I'm going downstairs to get some menus, be right back," Steve announced once we'd finished writing. He got up quickly and was gone. As he disappeared down the stairs, Maria extracted her mobile and after pressing a few buttons she offered it to Henry. "Take a look at this, Henry," she said smiling. I could not see what he was looking at but I could hear my screams and Steve's screams and Henry's deep laughter. I had been right, she had videoed the whole thing.

When Steve returned we were all sitting there, trying to stifle our laughter but not succeeding at all well.

"He is sending someone up with the menus... what's going on?" He asked looking at us suspiciously. There is nothing slow about my friend. "You little vixen! You did video it! Give me your phone!" He said and grabbed it before she could rescue it. But, in trying to delete the offending video he actually played it once more. He could not help himself from watching it through. The room was completely still, as we waited for his reaction. We heard a strange noise, like the recorded cry of a kookaburra being played too slowly. I recognised it as Steve's deep and uncontrolled laughter. Tears were streaming from his eyes as he replayed it over and over. Soon we all joined him. He placed the mobile on the coffee table, leaving it on repeat play.

"Here are you menus," a bright voice said from the door. It was one of Sergio's girls, but not Sandy, to my disappointment. She walked inside and as she was handing us our menus she noticed the mobile on the table and watched the whole thing play through. She looked at Steve and me in utter amazement and departed the flat almost running.

That brought even more laughter and we were all soon crying and laughing uncontrollably.

The laughing session was a great stress relief valve. Too many bad things had happened recently and we had needed something to propel us toward some sort of balance. They say that laughter is the best medicine, it was exactly what was needed that afternoon, especially with Mike's death still hanging over us. It had been inhibiting our ability to move forward and dealing with this prick Smith, or whatever the fuck his real name was.

"His real name is Grigor Hertz. Austrian born, came to Australia when he was twelve, in 1972, with his father. Mother had died back in Austria. From the onset, Grigor showed a remarkable talent for sports and for academic studies. He graduated in the top 1% in the HSC and went on to Sydney University to study Medicine," Henry informed us as we quieted down. In his hand, he was holding a sheaf of a few sheets of printed paper, and referred to them from time to time. While the general laughter had been going on, Henry had placed small devices next to each of the bugs. 'White noise.' Maria had written as an explanation.

A white noise generator can be programmed to emit a whole gamut of sounds, while at the same time canceling out the sound of the conversation you want to hide. 'Tuned to Channel Seven News.' Maria explained further. This meant that each little bug would transmit a signal back to the listener indicating that we were intent on watching the news, which of course we weren't.

"He did not finish his medical degree, because he was thrown out due to an unpleasant incident during an anatomy lesson. Apparently, he removed the genitals from a cadaver and somehow managed to place them in his lecturer's lunch box. And this was because she had reprimanded him for other stupid behaviour during the lecture. He left Sydney Uni and joined the Army. And that was back in '83. Once again he excelled and rapidly moved up the ranks. But, he left behind a series of incidents of spite, cruelty and outright insubordination which, eventually, would have got him dishonorably discharged. However, the Australian Intelligence Agency came to his rescue and grabbed him before that could happen. That was in March of 1988," Henry continued. "In the A.I.A. he found his perfect niche. He was soon employed as an SO, Special Operative. In other words, he was a 'spy' for the government. Information on his operations from then on is very difficult to ferret out as you would expect for obvious reasons. I was able to track his movements, by looking at some of the different identities he used during that time and where in the world 'they' visited. I have made a little table, from which you may draw your own conclusions. In summary, in each case, his arrival was followed by an assassination of a VIP, by person or persons 'unknown'. As you will see there are over seven examples, all of them cannot be coincidences. These are the ones I could find after a lot of searching, there are probably more. Grigor has never been caught or even suspected, he is a very, very, dangerous man. He does not have a favoured MO. But has probably killed using a high powered rifle from as far away as a half a mile, by hand gun, knife, poisoning, strangulation, and even with just one vicious blow to one of the many killing points on the human body. It also appears that he is a skilled and ruthless interrogator," Henry said in a subdued tone. "He really knows how to hurt people. One source was quoted as saying: Hertz, lives up to his name!" He finished just as our lunch arrived. This time Sergio delivered it personally, "what did you do to my girl, Louie?" He asked with a cheeky grin. Sergio is a seventy years old Neapolitan. His face has more dunes and hollows than the Sahara - his grins have been known to scare cats into early labour. But, in reality he is a very sweet man.

"She is easily alarmed, my friend," I answered. And ignoring Steve's protests, I showed him the video. Like a passing train we could hear the Doppler effect of his laughter all the way down to his Café'.

We ate in grim silence, while digesting the partial life history of a monster.

"I am not sure what you intend to do with this man, if and when you find him. But let me assure you that if you capture him and hand him over to the authorities, he will never stand trial. He just knows too much. Canberra will ferret him out and away before he even hits the Police station," Henry said, placing his knife and fork down as he finished chewing the last of his meal. "I know what I would do, in your shoes," He added after taking a sip of his wine, while gazing at the beautiful Harbour.

"What can you tell us about the man himself? Habits, interests, something we can use to track him down," Steve asked.

"Not much, I am afraid. He has kept way below the radar. His father died, under suspicious circumstances, about twenty years ago - so, no family. He does not seem to own any property or belong to any club. He is like a fucking ghost, or better, an evil spirit. He mostly operates alone. When he does employ people to help him in an operation, they do not survive long after the operation is complete. He is extremely good at disguising himself. Like all psychos, he can be very charming and friendly. I could not find any weaknesses, it's going to be very hard work catching this particular worm," Henry concluded.

"If we are not going to be able to find him," I said. "We will have to arrange for him to come us." Then, on further thought, "we need to bait a trap. But, we need to think it through. As you said, Smith is very smart and very dangerous. We have to make it foolproof or better, genius-proof. What's happening at the factory at the moment, Steve?"

"Everyone has gone home as we asked them to do. I have a couple of patrol men guarding the place," he said.

"Can you contact them and make sure that Smith hasn't made a move already?"

"Sure, I'll do that right now," he answered picking up his mobile. After a brief scan of his contacts, he dialed. We waited in silence.

"Hey, Constable Reagan how is it going?" Steve asked when his call was finally answered. He listened, then, "OK, good work... keep your eyes peeled. Call for back up immediately if you suspect something. This perp. is ruthless and has already killed one of ours... take care, Mate," he hung up and gave us the thumbs up.

"Right, we need to move fast. We need to use the safe inside the factory as the bait for our trap. The safe has the only remaining sample of the PZ-76 in it," I explained to Henry. He nodded. In the next fifteen minutes I outlined my plan for the trap. Both Henry and Maria made valuable improvements on it, Steve was busy taking meticulous motes in his ubiquitous police notebook, nodding as he wrote, making suggestions as he thought of them.

"And now it's time to burly up, and attract our big fish to our bait," I concluded nodding toward the three electronic bugs. It was time to transmit some misinformation. "Remember Hertz is very smart and is good at ferreting out lies from the truth," I warned, then signaled to Henry. With the press of a button on a little gadget in his hand, the 'white noise' was turned off, just as if we'd just turned off the TV news.

"What a heap of crap. I don't know why we wasted time watching it," I said disgustedly. "At least Sergio's food was up to scratch," I added pleased.

"Yes, it was delicious," commented Henry. "You are lucky to have his little restaurant just below you, Louie."

"You don't know how lucky," Steve said smiling.

Both Henry and Maria looked at Steve quizzically. But he just smiled, happy in his knowledge. I said nothing. While we all remained silent for a few minutes, I wrote on the pad for Henry, "Could you also check out our cars for more bugs?"

"I can do that tomorrow. Now, I really have to go and pick up Frankie from school," he wrote, and then he added. "You better assume that everything is bugged, including your mobile phones, for now." He passed both messages to the other two. After a few more words about matters in general we agreed to meet the next day, for breakfast. Yet another of Sergio's girls appeared at the door, as Henry excused himself and left.

"Sandy not here?" I asked the new girl.

"She had to go to Uni. Sir," she answered, blushing.

"Sandy uh? You receive excellent service here, Louie," Steve smiled knowingly.

"You bet." I answered, straight faced. "The best."

Once the new girl had left the room I found Maria's eyes boring into me.

"I finally get it," she said nodding comprehension. "What it is that you two idiots have been giggling about like two school girls. Why don't you act your ages," she huffed and was not pleased. Was there a hint of jealousy there?

"What are we going to do to catch this prick Smith then?" Asked Steve getting our act back to task.

"We need to make sure that the Reece kids are safe. We better send a couple of patrol cars down there right away. And the Reece factory needs 24/7 patrols," I suggested.

"Okay, I'll try my best. But you know how short staffed we are. I'll ring the boss right now," he said and acted out a phony phone call for the benefit of the bugs. Complete with an angry argument ending with a disappointed, "yes Sir."

"What happened?" Maria asked with concern.

"The idiot reckons that the patrol men at the factory are a waste of resources. He reckons that there is a security company already looking after the site and since the formula is inside one of the best safes available, they are going to pull them out," Steve said in a disgusted tone.

"Fuck! Bloody idiot," I exclaimed.

"You said it - after tonight they are been reassigned," he said hopelessly.

"What about the kids?" Maria asked.

"He agreed to that... for now," Steve reassured her.

"It's complete madness. If he gets that formula now, Mike will have died for no reason," I said disgustedly. "Maybe we should go down there and guard it ourselves."

"No can do, I have been forbidden to do so... he was way ahead of us there," Steve said still dispirited. "Further I have been ordered to keep you two out of the investigation all together."

"He can't do that. This is still a free country," Maria said hotly. "We can go where we please."

"He said it very clearly, in that pompous tone of his, that if he finds you two anywhere related to this investigation he will personally arrest you for interfering with a police matter and will demote me down to constable. He is a veritable arsehole," Steve told us.

"Fuck!" I said.

"Ditto," Maria agreed.

Before leaving Steve and Maria helped me to bed, I was just about done for the day. I passed out before they had even left the flat.

Sometime much later, Sandy returned. She undressed and got into bed next to me. It was great not to be sleeping alone, the love making was not too shabby either.

Roger was a bit put out, at first, and grumbled and murmured around the bed complaining. But when Sandy invited him up, he jumped up, circled and mumbled for about five rotations and finally settled down with an audible sigh of relief.

# Chapter 15

The alarm on my mobile phone awoke me at 6 am. I found that I was alone in bed. The flat was quiet as a tomb, there was no sign of either Sandy or Roger. Concerned, I moved my legs and found them still sore, but not as immobile as they had been the day before. Perhaps, the nurse had been right, exercise was the best cure. I even managed to get up and out of bed all by myself, a very positive omen for the day.

During the night, Steve and Maria would have been very busy setting our trap into motion. It should be all go by now and I was looking forward to seeing them. I wanted to try to get down the stairs and have breakfast seated at one of the outside tables of Sergio's restaurant. That way we would be free to discuss our preparation without the fear of Hertz's electronic bugs listening in. Henry had given all of Sergio's tables the all-clear.

I dressed slowly and even managed to pull up a pair of jeans. It took a long time but finally they were up past the bandages. They felt tight around my wounded leg, but the pressure was not uncomfortable. If anything it seemed to help in supporting the leg. I walked slowly and somewhat feebly to my small balcony and drank in the view, and as usual, it was worth every swallow.

I happened to glance down to the street below and I saw Sandy returning with Roger on a leash. As it happens so often when we are looking at someone, they seem to feel it. She glanced up at me at the same moment and smiled brightly. Her smile was not of the same wattage as Maria's, but she made up for it with pure unbridled happiness of being alive and young. I smiled and waved back.

"I figured that Roger might be missing his walks since your injury," she explained as she opened the door to my flat, on their return.

"That was very kind of you, Sandy. Roger and I both thank you very much," I said while returning her peck on my lips. Roger laid himself out on the floor, huffing and puffing like a locomotive. His tongue way out of his mouth and making strange flapping noises on the tiled floor of the balcony, like a fish out of water.

"He is stuffed," I said, amazed.

"Yeah, I'm not sure he is used to jogging ten or so k's," she said looking at Roger with some concern.

"You jogged ten k's?" I asked with trepidation. Would I be able to keep up with this sex crazed Amazon?

"Every morning, or I put on weight like a cow," she nodded, going to the fridge and getting us both an orange juice. I really liked that about her – she knew that she did not need to ask and wasted no time with pointless questions. I thanked her and sat down on my lounge facing the view. I patted the seat beside me, motioning for her to join me.

"I am pretty ripe, after the exercise," she hesitated. "I really need a shower."

"Please Sandy, I would like us to have a little chat," I said.

"Oh, oh this sounds ominous," she said, sitting beside me at angle so that she was facing me rather than the view.

"Not really, it's all happened so quickly... I would just like to know if you... well, I am not sure how to put it, exactly," I hesitated, not being real clear what I was asking.

"You want to know where we are going with this. Right?" She said in a matter of fact tone.

"I guess so," I nodded. "Every journey needs some sort of destination."

"I am not sure, Louie. I acted impulsively yesterday... if you like I will pull back and leave you alone," she said sincerely.

"It's not that, Sandy... it's just that... well... I am not a wham-bam-see-you-later-mam type of person. I don't like one night stands. I need a meaningful relationship to be interested... so, I guess that you need to understand that... and also, I am quite a bit older," I tried to explain, very badly. "If you know what I mean," I added, but it really did not improve my explanation one bit.

She looked at me for a long time and I was sure that she was going say goodbye right then and there. What had seemed to her a bit of fun, was turning into something she had not bought a ticket to. I diverted my gaze from her face and looked at the Harbour, preparing myself for the rejection that was coming my way. I did not want her to see the look of disappointment that I am often unable to stop in this kind of situation. I am a terrible poker player.

"Louie..." She started.

"Here it comes..." I readied myself.

"I don't like one night stands either. I never have. I like you a lot, Louie. The age difference doesn't worry me, if it doesn't worry you. I am willing to see where we go with it, if you are." I hoped my relief was not too obvious.

"No worries, then," I smiled, turned and kissed her. It lasted a long time. It was a lover's kiss, soft and gentle and at the same time urgent and exciting. We caressed and kissed and smiled, we smiled a lot. It would have gone on for the rest of the day if my mobile hadn't started barking right then.

"Oh, go away!" I shouted at it. Roger barked in support. But it didn't – it kept calling out. Finally, Sandy picked it up for me and put it to my ear, while she slowly explored my ear with her mouth and hands.

"He... lloh?" I said breathlessly.

"What is wrong with you?" Steve asked.

"Why... nu... nothing," I answered.

"Mmm, I see... Well, how do you feel today?" He asked, unconvinced.

"Good, I got up all by myself." I added proudly.

"You need help to get down here?" He asked, suspicion still heavy in his tone.

"No, no... thanks. I want to do it by myself. Thanks," I tried to keep my tone even but Sandy's tongue made that impossible.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I better come up," He said decisively.

"No, no... really I'm good. I'll be just five minutes... really," I reassured him. The last thing I wanted was for them to come up now. He was quiet for what seemed to be an eternity.

"Sandy is with you, right?" He whispered into the phone

"Uh, uh..." I answered

"Okay see you in a bit, Mate," he said happily. "But you'll need only two or three minutes," he laughed.

"Very funny," I said and hung up on him and his jokes.

"You have to go?" Sandy asked, detaching herself and looking up.

"Err yes... sorry."

"No problem Louie, I need to get ready for Uni anyway. And I still need a shower badly. See you tonight?" She asked.

"Yes, but I am not quite sure what time I'll be back. Feel free to come here whenever you like, if that's okay with you," I answered.

"I hope this is not going too fast for you... but can I bring some clothes and a toothbrush etc.?" She asked, biting her lip, doubt in her voice.

"Bring whatever you like, some books too, if you need to do some work," I said. She smiled brilliantly and kissed me again. I think the wattage of her smile was increasing every time I looked at it. As she dashed off to the shower, I rearranged my clothes the best I could. I grabbed a few things I thought I might need and then headed for the stairs.

It took me a long time. A few times it felt like I was going to take the express route - bouncing on my head all the way down. But between the banister and my cane I made it to the bottom in one piece and still standing.

At tortoise-like speed I zoomed toward my two friends already seated and enjoying a cup of Sergio's great coffee. Sergio rushed over to try to help me, but I waved him away, with thanks. I wanted to do this under my own steam. I was very glad to finally dive bomb into my chair.

I hadn't noticed but I had been holding my breath for most of the journey and it now exploded out of me like Moby Dick resurfacing from the deep ocean.

"Good morning, you two," I managed to say in a breathless whisper.

"You look much better this morning, Louie," Maria said giving me a peck on my cheek.

"Yes thanks, Maria. I do feel a lot better, how are you two?" I answered. "Thanks, Sergio." I said to Sergio as he placed a double shot short black in front of me.

"Nice to see you up and about, Louie," he said giving us a breakfast menu each, and then scurrying away to one of the other tables. The place was already filling up. It is a very popular spot for most of the day. Sergio has a simple formula: great food and great service. I find it amazing that more places do not adopt it, it's infallible. With restaurants, once you have those two covered, position does not account for much. I remember a few years back, one of the top restaurants in Sydney could only be reached after a long drive followed by a wet boat ride. It was always booked out three or four months ahead – they provided great food and impeccable service – easy!

Just then I saw Sandy descending the stairs from my flat. She hesitated when she saw me with my friends, unsure whether to come over or skulk away. But I waved her over. Reassured, she walked toward us with a bright smile.

"Can you join us for breakfast?" I asked her.

"I don't have much time, Louie... but perhaps just a cup of coffee," she answered, after she had greeted my two friends with bright hellos. She walked over to the espresso machine, gave Sergio his obligatory peck on the cheek and made herself a cappuccino. She was soon seated beside me. In the background I could see Sergio smiling like the Cheshire cat, as if he was Cupid in the flesh.

"I would like you two to meet Sandy, my friend," I said to Steve and Maria, leaving no doubt what I meant by the word 'friend'

"What are you studying at Uni?" asked Maria, the inquisitor.

"I am doing post-grad work in criminology," Sandy answered to my great surprise.

"What?" I said beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"That sounds fascinating," Maria answered looking at Sandy, searching for any chinks in her story. But Sandy just smiled back, knowingly.

"I see you have some textbooks with you, may I see them?" Maria added - still looking for any inconsistencies. Sandy appeared to hesitate, then looking at me with a little doubt in her eyes, she handed them over. I knew what was coming, I recognised one of the books. I was in for it.

"The Criminal Mind," Maria read the titles out loud. "And The Crime Scene. Why this is strange, look Louie, this one is written by a Dr. L. Breccia... is he a relation?"

"Er... yes, sort of." I mumbled.

"He is no relation," Steve said, enjoying my embarrassment. "It's him, the Master."

"Uh? What do you mean?" Asked Maria, puzzled.

"Louie wrote it," he said and smirked. He knew that I hated telling anyone about my academic career, the one I had before joining the Police Force.

"You wrote this, Louie?" Maria asked surprised. "Why did I not know about it?"

"He does not like to advertise the fact that he is really a nerdy egg-head. It spoils his tough-cop image," Steve answered for me, still smiling. "Now you know why I refer to him as 'The Master'- most of the cops in NSW have used his book sometime or other during their training."

"Hey, I am tough!" I said indignantly.

"Sure you are," Steve said.

"I am sorry, Louie... I did not know it was a secret..." Sandy started to apologise.

"No worries, Sandy. I have no secrets from these two. They are my closest friends," I reassured her while seeking her hand to reinforce the fact that she had done nothing wrong.

"Oh yeah? No secrets? And how come I knew nothing about this?" Maria asked feeling that she had been left out.

"It never, sort of came up... I couldn't very well say, out of the blue; by the way, I have written a textbook... it would have sounded strange. Anyway you know now." I answered, smiling at her. "I'll give you a signed copy if you like," I added. Maria was going to explore the subject further, but we were saved by Sergio.

"Ready to order?" He asked, winking at Sandy.

Steve had been right, I don't like talking about my academic life. It always sounds to me like I am saying that I am better than other cops. I had written the book based on my PhD thesis, which I had researched by interviewing hundreds of detectives both here and overseas. I tried to distill their many and varied viewpoints into a short number of concise and easy-to-follow steps for crime scene investigation. It had been well received. But I had wanted to go further and put some of the ideas into practice. So I joined the police force, once I made detective I was hooked. I left academia behind me. I had revised the book a few times, adding case studies from my own and Steve's experience. I was pleased, I must confess, to find that it was still being used as a textbook.

"Have to go, nice to meet you two," Sandy's voice pulled me out from my reverie. "Here is my bus. See you, later Louie," she added and kissed me on the lips, waved to the others and to Sergio and was gone, running to catch a bus.

"She is a lovely girl." Maria commented, emphasizing the word 'girl'. I grimaced inwardly. The age difference between Sandy and me, had been on my mind. But I had filed it under 'too hard for now'.

"Cradle-snatcher," Steve commented in his usual subtle way – straight to the Achilles heel. I focused on getting my order right for Sergio.

"So, what has been happening?" I asked, hoping to leave the subject of Sandy behind us, for the moment.

"Well, while you spent hours molesting that poor child," Steve said, still enjoying himself. "Maria and I spent the whole night doing all the hard work."

"Yeah? So it's all set?" I said ignoring his jibe.

"Locked and loaded," he nodded.

"Let's hope it works. What time are we going there?"

"You are not going anywhere, Louie," Maria said. "You can hardly walk."

"I am not going to sit around here, while you two have all the fun," I said. "I'll catch a taxi if I have to."

"I told you, honey, he does not have a brain," Steve said to her. "There was no way we were going to keep him out of it. You might as well give up now. His name is Breccia, and that's a type of rock. I think his head is made from it." Then he turned to me. "We go directly from here and the sooner the better."

"Right," I said.

I was glad I had taken the time to grab all the pain killers, my smokes, mobile and both my guns. It had been touch and go strapping on the ankle strap, but I had managed it.

"I am ready to rock and roll... right after breakfast."

"Ditto." Steve said, and Maria didn't even grimace a little bit.

Breakfast was delicious as ever. After another short black and three pain killers I was as ready as I was ever going to be. We waved Sergio goodbye and walked toward where they had parked the car. Well, they walked and I shuffled behind, encouraged by Steve's kind words.

"Hop-along, old man!" I considered shooting him in the back, but was too busy balancing my act on a walking stick and two bum legs to be able to get the gun out. Besides, how would I make a quick get-away?

We stopped next to an old Toyota Camry - not a police car - we were going to sneak in. Steve drove us to a factory unit on the road that ran parallel and adjacent to the street where Reece Chemicals was located. He parked the car right next to the doorway and we quickly disembarked and entered a factory unit. The present tenants had been told to continue 'business as usual', we wanted to attract no attention. It was a car repair shop and it had a constant stream of customers coming in and out all day long. We were hiding in plain view, camouflaged like zebras - in a crowd.

In the factory's office we changed into our disguises. Steve and Maria were going to pose as two security guards. The clothes Steve got for me were those of a homeless bum. You know, sometimes my friend's sense of humour is a bit taxing – they were the real thing; old, dirty and no doubt alive with 'guests'. On second thought, I should have shot him.

Overnight, an opportunistic hole had been made in the fence separating this factory unit from Reece Chemicals. I would be using it to gain access. Steve and Maria were going to use a car borrowed from 'Total Security Pty Ltd', the firm that was looking after Reece Chemicals. They would drive into the Reece parking lot and relieve the current pair of guards for the normal roistered change. It was all happening at nine am, we had about half an hour to wait. We spent it reviewing our plan, making sure for the nth time we had left nothing to chance.

We expected that Hertz would make his move during the day, because he would feel that we would expect him to come in at night. Tricky, uh? I hoped we had not outsmarted ourselves.

At nine fifteen I walked unsteadily from the hole in the fence toward the rubbish bins that were behind Reece chemicals. I was holding a couple of bags with empty bottles and cans in them. Once near the bins, I took my time looking around, picked up a few aluminium cans from the bins and added them to my small treasure, looked around some more, picked up a cigarette butt from the ground and lit it - you know, real method acting stuff, Oscars here I come!

Once more around and then I quickly slipped inside the factory through the back door that had just been opened by Steve.

"Everything okay?" I asked, scratching here and there, bags rattling.

"So far, so good," he nodded. "You got some good ones?" He asked while staring at my plastic bags, smirking.

"Yeah, great... and thanks for the fleas," I answered.

"Anything for my buddy," he smiled.

"The safe still okay?" I asked, changing the subject, as he led me toward where Maria was now waiting for us.

"It hasn't been touched," he said.

"Let's fire up the equipment," I said, scratching.

"Maria has already started," he said, smiling.

"Prick," I said. "You'll get yours," I promised... still scratching.

Maria and Steve had spent the night setting up video surveillance equipment all over the factory. It had natural light and infra-red capability for night work. We had motion sensors and laser beam alarms all over the place. We were going to be able to detect a rat farting. The alarms were of course silent, they only activated little green lights at labeled locations on a floor map of the factory, which was displayed on the computer's monitor.

"When do you reckon he'll show up?" Maria asked as she activated the last of the video consoles.

"Between three and four in the afternoon, is my bet," I said. "Most people get sleepy about that time. He probably plans on the guards being sleepy and bored and looking forward to being relieved."

"Or not," Steve said, ever the pessimist.

So we waited, and waited some more. We took turns at manning the screens, two on and one napping, every hour. We did not talk much. On any stakeout – too much conversation distracts. We had a multitude of coffees. I took more pain killers and I paced around instead of napping in my off hours. I did not want my legs to stiffen and render me immobile at the wrong time. The factory had a chemical smell to it, which took some getting used to. It was deathly quiet, until we got a flashing light from the motion detector near the back door.

"We are on," I said to Steve who had just laid down for his rest. It was three fifteen in the afternoon.

# Chapter 16

Man plans and God laughs, goes the old Jewish saying. It never was as true as it was that afternoon.

One flashing light told us that we had company. We had expected that. What we hadn't expected was that soon after that first alarm, another light started to flash, then another and another. In less than a minute we had a Christmas tree of lights in front of us.

"What the fuck?" Steve exclaimed glancing from one monitor. "Has he brought a fucking army?"

"Can you see anything?" I asked. Although the motion sensors were going off, the video monitors showed nothing.

"Look at the infrared monitors!" Maria exclaimed in turn. They were all a pure white, as if a bright light had been turned on.

"He must have some sort of infra-red emitter. It's what has sent all the motion detectors crazy," she concluded.

"Smart prick!" I said. "Keep watching those video screens. It's time we called in the troops, Steve."

A large portion of the 'customers' to the auto shop we had used to change into our disguises were actually members of the NSW crack-hot State Protection Group. On Steve's signal they would now be entering the factory from all entry points. We were hoping of 'herding' Hertz into a corner.

"There!" Maria suddenly pointed at one of the monitors. He was completely stationary and he blended into the poorly lighted background so well, that it had been a really good piece of luck that we'd found him at all.

"I see him," I shouted excitedly. "Turn on the lights Steve."

"Turning on the lights. The perp. is currently in position number 5-k," Steve spoke into the small microphone attached to the lapel of his fake uniform, then he turned on the lights.

We all saw - our three index fingers pointed to the screen simultaneously.

He'd momentarily been surprised by the lights and had quickly crouched down. And then, just as quickly, he wasn't there anymore.

"Where the fuck did he go?" Steve shouted.

"Can't see him."

"The Perp. has moved. Be on the lookout, he is armed and dangerous," Steve advised the SPG team.

"Look!" Maria screamed, pointing at a monitor. "He is climbing up to the roof. Fuck! Look at him go!" As we watched in utter amazement, Hertz was climbing the factory walls. It seemed he was using fly shit to get a purchase here and there. He was like a bloody mixture of Spiderman and a monkey. Then we lost sight of him. We heard a few gun shots.

Steve and Maria, guns drawn, went out of the small office we'd been using as our command post. Even though we had no idea where he was now, they were going to help the SPG team members.

I heard a noise as if someone was running on the corrugated tin roof of the factory, and then nothing. I felt so frustrated, with my two legs out of commission, I could not join in the chase. I heard shouts and gun fire coming from outside the factory and moving away. I waited, listened and waited and listened. The noise of the action seemed to move away from the factory grounds, as people gave chase. Dejected, I sat down and rested my head on the table.

"Nice trick, Louie," a familiar voice said behind me. I jumped up, startled. The hair on the back of my neck straightening in sudden fear. "But, not good enough. You were always second rate, mate," he added with that superior tone in his voice. I turned slowly around and there he was. Fucking Hertz, smirk and all. He wasn't remarkable looking in any way. Except for his eyes, they were dead eyes.

"No sudden movements, Louie," he warned, still smirking and pointing a silenced Beretta PX4 at my head. "Nice and easy now, take out that nice Glock 31 you love so much and that piece of Russian shit you have strapped to your leg. Place them on the floor and kick them away from you."

"You fucking arsehole," I said, but I did as he asked. "What now? Another notch on that killer's gun of yours?"

"I never kill for no reason, Louie. Killing you right now would not get me what I want."

"And what is it that you want?"

"Come now, Louie, we both know what I want. PZ-76 will make me the richest man in the world."

"And that's worth all the killing you have done?" I asked stupidly.

"You must be joking. I have killed for as little as a thousand bucks. Now, enough of this crap," he said, his tone becoming harsh. "Your mentally deficient friends will be back soon. Give me the combination of the safe. I want that sample."

"The only person that had that combination was Dr. Reece, and you killed him, you moron," I said with some satisfaction.

"Yeah, I suspected as much. I am sure that I can get that piece of outdated metal open, but I don't have the time, right now. Guess I'll have to get it some other way. Well, Old China, I'll be seeing you real soon... I have one more job for you. Then, I will kill you."

He was moving even before he had finished speaking and he did it so rapidly that I did not even notice it until it was too late. I felt a tremendous hit on my head. I don't even remember collapsing into blackness.

# Chapter 17

I came awake in a Hospital bed. Again!

It was really starting to shit me.

"Sleeping beauty awakes," I heard Steve announce to the crowd around my bed.

"You really need to look into another type of work, Louie!" My brother Pip reiterated from the last visit.

"I reckon you are right, Pip. Maybe I'll try basket weaving next," I agreed, trying to show a brave front even though my head felt like it was going to implode, explode...some sort of plode! Then, everyone in my family started to talk at once, wanting to know how I felt. I did not bother to answer. I passed out instead.

Next time I awoke, my room was deathly quiet and the light subdued, but my head was still pulsating and sending waves of pain, which I am sure that I could actually see in the back of my eyes. I tried to sit up. Bad idea, the room wavered. It felt like I was about to fall out of bed. The drum beating between my temples escalated to a crescendo. I think I moaned like a dog. Slowly, the noise and pain and flashes of light seem to calm down and I was actually able to look around me... very slowly.

I had been wrong, the room was not empty. They were all still there. Standing around me in silence. For a crazy moment I thought I might have been already dead, in a coffin, and this was my wake.

"Hello!" I tried. They all smiled down at me, but no one spoke. I considered the possibility that I had gone deaf.

"Someone say something," I said, and they all nodded, and smiled. This was beginning to creep me out.

"We can't understand a thing you are saying, Louie. Just relax, Bro," Rico, my GP brother, said softly. "Don't worry it's just the effect of a cracked skull and all the pain killers that they are pumping into you," he finished, while patting me on the leg.

"Cracked skull?" I repeated not quite understanding.

"You have a fractured skull, Louie. If you had hit the floor just a fraction harder you would not be here," he confirmed.

"Me? Hit? Hit where?" I asked, still not with the program.

"As far as we can make out you must have tried to move too quickly on your injured legs, fell over and hit your head on the concrete floor," Steve explained.

"No, no, no," was all I wanted say... but I could not, right then because I could not remember anything at all, but it just did not sound right.

"We got the bastard, Mate, so just relax, and get well," Steve reassured me.

"You got him? Who?" I asked confused. I was just about to ask for more information, when a baritone voice from the door informed all my visitors that they had to go. That I was a real sick man and needed peace and quiet.

"Everyone OUT!" the nurse concluded in a tone that did not expect any objections.

After a lot of hugs and kisses from all my family, especially my Mum. They all filed out. The nurse, whom I recognised from my recent visit gave me a final look before switching the lights off and closing the door behind her. I was alone.

"Hello there, my poor battered man," Sandy's whisper made me jump out of my skin, even though, at the same time, I was pleased to hear it.

"You better go, you will get into trouble with the ogre masquerading as nurse," I warned while returning her kiss.

"She won't be back for a while. Anyway what is she going to do? Call the cops?" Sandy said while she carefully slipped into the bed next to me. If she was wearing anything it must have been very thin. It felt good to have her snuggling up next to me, her head on my chest, her legs intertwined with mine, her hands roaming, caressing. I stopped worrying about everything, the pain seemed to fade away and I seemed to slowly sink into the soft blanket of sleep.

I don't know how long Sandy stayed with me. But when the morning nurse came to take all those annoying measurements they are so fond of doing at five o'clock in the morning, I found myself alone in bed. I was feeling a lot better. Most of the pain in my head was just a dull throbbing. I could actually move my head without passing out. I tried to remember how I had managed to hurt myself so badly. My mind was still a complete blank. The harder I tried to recollect, the more confused and uncertain I felt.

The last thing I did remember clearly was being in an office, alone and with my head leaning on a table. I remember feeling dejected and frustrated, and then standing up, turning around and... blank. I must have fallen and hit my head after that, I guessed.

The adolescent doctor from last time woke me up from a nap I must have slipped into while straining myself to remember. Fortunately, I have only one head so he could not make the same mistake this time. He flashed lights in my eyes, looked in my ears, and told me to focus on his pen as he moved it around my face, all the time sporting a knowledgeable expression of pure wonder.

"Mr. Brescee, you are a very lucky man," was his diagnosis.

"Yeah, I feel real lucky," I agreed grimly. "And the name is Breccia, Doc."

"By rights you should be dead," he reassured me.

"That makes me feel a whole lot better, thanks," I lied. "When can I go home?"

"Oh now, not for a long time, oh no, no... more tests are needed," He answered very seriously while shaking his head as if trying to dislodge something attached to his shiny black hair. "We need an MRI for a start."

"MRI?" I asked, getting worried. "Is that the one where you lie there while a jack hammer plays into your ears for an hour or so?"

"Yes, you know it?" He asked, surprised, but unconcerned about the effect it would have on my still pulsating headache. This guy could not win a trick with me, maybe his sole function was to free-up hospital beds by scaring the shit out of patients.

"And when is that taking place?" I asked, putting up a brave front.

"Oh in a couple of hours," he said regretfully. "We could not get you in there any sooner."

"That's a real shame, Doc," I said brightly. He looked at me and seemed to be a bit startled by the change in attitude, but pleased.

"That's the spirit, Mr. Bricka," he said, patting my injured leg, and sending a new wave of pain to my brain. "Well, we'll see you tomorrow, then," he threatened, on his way out.

"Sure thing, Doc."

As soon as the door closed behind him, it reopened and the ogre-nurse was back.

"How are we feeling today?" She asked.

"I am not sure how you're feeling, but I feel like shit," I answered, hoping to shock her away.

But she did not even hear the answer, probably because she was busy deciding which method of torture was on the menu for today. She stormed over and started making important measurements of temperature and blood pressure.

"We need to take a little walk now," she said as she jotted down the results of her efforts.

"We do?" I asked. "You start, I'll be right behind you," I assured her, but her expression suffered no lame jokes. I grimaced, "OK. Let's do it then," I agreed resignedly, already planning my escape within the hour. The MRI could wait for my next life.

Dizzy, and with a ceaseless drum in my head I staggered around the room, holding on to her on one side and to the ubiquitous IV stand on the other. It wasn't so bad... after a while, my eyes could actually focus and the room stopped orbiting around me. We were both pleased with my efforts.

"An orderly will take you down to the MRI room at ten o'clock, Mr. Breccia," She informed me after I had returned to the bed and she was tucking me in. "Meanwhile, you need to have just a light breakfast. It's all been ordered for you. It will be down soon." And with that she left, leaving behind a scent of 'Purfume de Dettol'.

During our little foray around my room I had managed to steer us toward the clothes cupboard and was able to sneak a peek inside. My clothes were in there... well, someone's clothes were in there. They were fit for a homeless bum, which was puzzling. I wondered if a patient had switched my real clothes for his, while I slept in pain and misery.

"Filthy swine!" I had mumbled as we continued to torture me. However, the sight and smell of those clothes did prompt my memory. I inhaled with shock as I remembered almost the whole case - the Reece's, the kids, Mike's death, and the office where we had set up the trap and then... nothing. I tried to remember more as we stomped our way around, but it proved hopeless.

As soon as the ogre-nurse left I metaphorically jumped out of bed. The 'jump' took about ten minutes \- I had to take a rest every once in a while to steady the room around me. Finally, I dragged myself behind the IV stand to the wardrobe, and then struggled all the way back to the bed, somehow carrying clothes and cane in my free hand. I got the sick pleasure of pulling out the I-V from my vein, I was getting good at it! But, there was no way that I was able to get dressed.

Sitting on the side of the bed, naked, I tried to make a plan for a quick getaway, or even a slow one. Then, I heard the breakfast trolley outside the room. I quickly rotated back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, making sure I held the I-V drip in one hand, so that the little tube, which was still dripping vital solutions, would be under the covers with me.

"Your breakfast," the nice lady said, entering the room a microsecond after I had covered up.

"Thanks," I answered, out of breath, sweat on my brow. No doubt I looked pasty as well. She looked at me in a concerned expression as she placed the tray on the hospital stand beside the bed.

"Are you okay, Love?" She asked. "Do you want me to call a nurse for you?"

"No, no... I'm fine," I reassured her, smiling... well, trying to smile anyway. "Really I am," I added as the concerned look remained fixed on her kindly face.

"Okay, then, Love. Let me put the buzzer right next to you, in case you change your mind," she said, still worried, while moving the nurse-call buzzer right next to my head on the pillow.

"You are very kind, thanks."

"No problem, Love. Now you take care okay?" She said leaving the room, and closing the door behind her.

I looked at the breakfast tray and I suddenly felt very hungry. I lifted the metal lid that kept it warm and noticed that I had porridge. I like porridge and it is pretty hard to get wrong, even for hospital kitchens. I added some honey and some milk and wolfed it down in three or four spoonfuls. Drank my orange juice, finally, I was good to go once more... but I did not have a plan. .

"Fuck!" I grumbled under my breath. Just then, an amused reprimand from the doorway heralded my salvation.

"Louie! What are you up to?" Steve's voice said behind me.

"Man, you sure are a sight for sore eyes!" I said to him turning around, smiling. He was standing there, in a white coat and pushing a wheel chair.

"I figured that I might as well come and help you, that way you would do less damage to yourself." He held up a dressing gown. "This get up and the wheel chair will ensure a quick escape," he explained. I donned the hospital gown once more and put on the dressing gown Steve had brought. I then was very happy to sit on the wheel chair.

"Thanks, Mate," I said. "You are a life saver."

"I am pretty sure this is the wrong thing to do, but I know you - getting out by yourself would have been worse still. Maria is downstairs double-parked. She is the getaway driver," he whispered in a conspiratorial tone through the side of his mouth.

I was a bit worried that my bandaged head would attract undue attention. But he had a solution for that as well. He extracted a cap from his back pocket and started to place it on my head. I grabbed at it.

"Not a Bulldogs cap! No way, José!" I protested vehemently. The Bulldogs are a Sydney football team which Steve has been following as a die-hard fan since kindergarten. I am a Dragons' fan myself, so he was forever trying to get me to wear one of his blue and white caps - with an ugly bulldog at the front.

"Will the humiliation never end?" I asked, but no one answered. "Okay this time, this time only. You have snookered me into it," I relented. I think it made his day. I lowered the cap over my eyes and bent my head down. He wheeled me around a sharp U-turn and we were out of the room in a flash. As we passed the nurse's station, I could see that the ogre was on duty. Luckily, she was having a heated conversation on the phone.

"Don't stop for nothin', Mate. Ignore everyone, just keep pushing," I urged.

"No worries," he said, as he wheeled me right past her, ignoring her frantic waving hand for us to stop. We were lucky with the elevator, its doors opened just as we arrived. We were descending toward the ground floor before she had the time to hang up on the poor sod she'd been browbeating.

From then on it was a walk in the park. He wheeled me through the front door and toward the police cruiser in which Maria was double parked, illegally, right in front of the hospital doors. But who was going to question a driver in a police car? I crawled into the back seat, Maria shifted to the passenger seat, Steve got into the driver seat and then we were off. Free once more!

# Chapter 18

As we sped away from the hospital grounds, Maria turned around to take a look at me. I could see a big frown on her face, the tone in her voice was worse.

"I was not going to help, Louie. I totally think this is very foolish. But Steve said you were going to run away for sure, and it was safer for you if we helped. So I agreed, but I still think this is really stupid," she said.

"We were just in time, the idiot was half way to the door, naked, when I got there," Steve said to her.

"Hopeless, absolutely fucking hopeless!" She said shaking her head at me.

"I appreciate the help guys... I really do," I said smiling even though my head felt like it was on someone else's shoulders, way up from my body.

"How do you feel?" She asked as her stern expression was replaced by one of concern.

"A bit woozy... but I will be okay," I reassured her.

"I bet!" She said turning around to face the front.

"The good news is that I got most of my memory back this morning," I said trying to change the subject.

"That's great Mate. That's really good... er... did you say 'most'?" Steve said, not sure whether he was pleased or not. "How much do you remember?" He added with some concern.

"Right up to the point when you guys left to chase after Hertz," I answered. "I remember feeling bad that I could not help. But not much after that... I guess it will come back to me... eventually," I added.

"I guess..." Steve said doubtfully.

"We got the bastard," Maria said, triumphantly.

"Yeah... so you said," I nodded. "Tell me how it went down."

They were so excited that they each gave me a bit of the story, one taking over from the other, sometime speaking at the same time, so that I had to get them to repeat portions of it that had got lost in the confusion of two voices trying to out-compete each other.

Apparently, Hertz had escaped through one of the vents in the roof of the factory. He had then made an astonishing leap onto the roof of one of the parked police cars. The roof of the car breaking his fall. He was able to scramble off it and with incredible speed start running down the street. They had lost sight of him a couple of times but regained visual contact during the chase over few kilometres. He had made the fatal mistake of heading toward Little Bay, the beach at Malabar. He'd had to stop on the rock shelf beside the beach, where many a fisherman have been swept into the Pacific by the breaking rollers. For a moment he had hesitated there, unwilling to jump in, obscured on occasion by the spray from the breaking waves. It was during that moment of hesitation that one of the Police Sniper's bullets had hit him in the head.

"I saw his head explode, Louie," Steve recalled excitedly. "Even then, he seemed to remain standing for a few seconds, and then he just fell into the water."

"By the time a rescue team got there," Maria took over the story. "They could not find any part of him at all."

"Yeah, the sharks there are pretty hungry," Steve explained in turn. "There is a sewerage outlet near there, which attracts a lot of fish and hence a lot of sharks."

"So are we sure it was him?" I asked.

"Well, ID will never be 100%, but I did see his head explode with a pink mist. I spoke to the sniper that had taken the shot. He was pretty sure that it was him, and he was looking through a telescopic sight," Steve explained.

"I guess so," I said.

"You have some doubts?" Maria asked, almost belligerently.

"No, no... nothing... err... just my memory, it's so annoying. It's like when you are trying to remember a word and it's on the tip of your tongue, but it just won't come. Like an itch you can't scratch," I tried to explain.

"But, Louie, it doesn't matter if you can't remember... you were not there anyway. You were passed out on the floor," Maria pointed out, logical as ever.

"Yeah; I guess you are right there," I said feeling even worse. What a useless prick I had turned out to be. I was better off just forgetting all about it. "Oh well, at least the kids are safe now," I concluded.

"There's that," Steve agreed, nodding.

"Ditto," Maria added, smiling.

Steve and Maria helped me back into my flat, I gave Roger a big cuddle and then I dropped into bed, fully clothed, and passed out. But my sleep was the very opposite of restful. I was plagued with strange and unintelligible dreams. Somehow the most stressful points in my life got all mixed up. Sonia, my sweet Sonia, was in it mixed up with some horrible cases from when I was in vice, and then Mike getting shot in the head. Some of the time it wasn't Mike that was shot but me, or even worse, Steve. I could feel the bullet hit my head and see my brains and blood explode as my eyes were propelled from my head. And then it was Sonia that was shot or Maria. It just seemed to go on and on. I'd come semi-awake, feeling like I was in a bath of sweat and then I would be dragged back into another permutation of the nightmare.

When I finally managed to wake up, I was not happy. I felt like shit. The bandage on my head was soaking wet from sweat and blood, the wound must have opened up and had bled all over my pillow. It was a now a cheerful pink colour and as wet as a sponge. My tossing and turning must have been even too much for Roger, he had taken refuge on the lounge and was looking at me suspiciously, grumbling under his breath.

"It's okay. Mate. I feel better now," I lied to him. He was very pleased anyway and in one bound he was onto my bed, rubbing his face in the covers, but clearing his nose at every opportunity, like dogs do when they smell something that they don't like. I got the message.

"Okay, okay... I'll go take a shower... you don't smell that good yourself, you know?" I remarked.

"Grough!" He replied, disbelievingly.

Our evolution must have included an aquatic stage. There is no other possible explanation why a shower always makes you feel 100% better. Sitting on my balcony in a pair of boxer shorts I called down to Sergio for some dinner and begged him to send me up a double short black as soon as humanly possible. Two minutes later there was a knock on the door and Sandy walked in bearing a cupful of Heaven. But, she was not happy either.

"I could not believe it when Sergio told me you were home already, Louie!" She said angrily while giving me my coffee. "Are you crazy? You should still be in hospital."

"I hate hospitals."

"You really piss me off!" She answered, still angry.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" I asked.

"I would be happier to see you still in hospital, getting proper medical care," she answered, gesticulating with her hands. Then in a softer tone. "But I am glad to see you. Louie... how are you feeling? Don't give macho bullshit either."

"Really, I don't feel too bad. I had a horrible sleep... even scared Roger off the bed."

"Did your silly master, scare you? You poor boy," she said bending down to pat Roger. Typical! I was injured and the old dog was getting all the attention. There is no justice in this world!

"I'll go get you some dinner," she said straightening up and leaving without even a peck on the cheek. She was really pissed. But it was only five minutes and she was back. Wordlessly she placed a tray on my legs and then went into the bedroom. I waited for it.

"What the fuck? What happened in here?" She screamed out.

"I told you, I had a bad sleep." I said.

"A bad sleep? It looks like you fought a battle and lost. Everything is bloody and wet. You... you... you..." She could not find the right words with which to scold me. I smiled and got stuck into my baked leg of lamb. I could hear her mumbling to herself in there as she tore the sheets from the bed. She continued working in there for about half an hour. Finally, she reappeared.

"What a mess. Give me a look at that wound," she said, expecting no arguments. I pointed my head toward her. She seemed to get even more pissed off when she found that it did not look as bad as it was supposed to look.

"How about a kiss?" I asked. She froze on the spot. It wasn't what she had expected. Her expression seemed to go through a number of metamorphosis, and then she smiled.

"You are hopeless, but you do need kissing," she nodded. Then, moving the tray aside she dragged me to my feet and escorted me back to the newly made-up bed.

"What about... er... Sergio, won't he need you..." I started.

"Sergio said to take the rest of the night off... he thinks you might need to be taken care of," she murmured, while starting to undress.

"I really do," I agreed.

# Chapter 19

It was a very good night. We had surfaced a couple of times for food and drink, but only to give me a little time to recuperate. At about eight o'clock of the next morning, we were sitting in bed, relaxing. My head was feeling pretty good, my legs were also pretty good and the rest of me was feeling excellent. The healing properties of love, affection and a lot of sex deserve to be encapsulated into a meaningful proverb, like "a stitch in time saves nine" or "too many cooks spoil the broth", but I could not come up with one.

"I could not possibly marry you," Sandy said suddenly out of the blue. We had not been discussing it at all, so her statement took me by surprise.

"Oh? And why not?" I asked with a mock hurt tone in my voice.

"It's the name," she said.

"What's wrong with Breccia?"

"Nothing, silly. But, Sandy Breccia... I would sound like a geological sample," she explained, and we both laughed.

"You are strange," I said wiping the tears from my eyes. And then a new thought struck me, "Hey! I don't even know your full name," I remarked, surprised it had never come up.

"Louie Breccia meet Sandy Keats," she said extending her right hand for a handshake. But I was frozen on the spot. That name, I hated that name. I could not breathe, my body started to tremble.

She said nothing, but concern, worry and regret painted her face.

I could not speak as the whole scene of my last encounter with John Keats, the man that had killed my sweet Sonia, my wife, played out in my mind like a bad movie. I realized that I had to get a hold of myself. It was just a name, there must be thousands of Keats in the telephone book, and there had been even a poet. But I guess the bad dreams I had suffered through the previous night had brought it all back to haunt me once more.

"Just a bad turn, I'll be all right in a moment, don't worry," I lied - it was getting to be a bad habit.

"Are you sure? Can I get you something? Are you in pain?"

"No, it's okay, Sandy. It's all gone now," I reassured her as I pushed the last tendrils of the memory and the nightmare to the back of my mind. But the feeling of shock and distress were hard to dislodge.

"I'll go get us some breakfast, you stay right there and relax, Louie," she said getting up and dressing quickly, too quickly. "What do you feel like?"

"Bacon and eggs, you know the usual thing," I suggested.

"Be right back," she said and was out of the door. I reached for my mobile and turned it on, I could see that I had several 'missed calls' from Steve and from my parent's house number. I pressed the speed dial number for Steve.

"So, the child molester returns," he said feigning surprise. "I rang a number of times to see how you were feeling, but no answer. I finally called Sergio to ask him to take a look at you, but he told me that Sandy was with you. She finally woke up to herself and left you?"

"No, she is downstairs getting some breakfast... that's not why I called."

"Oh yeah? You need some tips? You know there is more than just the missionary position..." He started.

"Listen, I am serious, did you know that her full name is Sandy Keats?" I said. He was quiet for a long time. He knew that name as well as I did. He knew the effect that it had on me. He knew that I had killed John Keats in the worse possible way and that he had helped me get away with it. He knew it all.

"There is no reason to think that they are related, Louie. Calm down Mate, let me run a check. Just take it easy, okay? Call you as soon as I got some answers, okay?" He said in a subdued and worried tone, as the jocularity and the smile in his voice faded away.

"Okay, Steve... and thanks, Mate," I replied, still feeling like someone had just told me my dog had been run over.

"No worries, take it easy," he said and hung up just as Sandy was returning with a tray full of food.

"Steve." I explained even though she hadn't asked.

One of the many things I like about Sandy is that she has an healthy appetite - she eats like a half starved prisoner at almost every meal. This is an important factor if you are going to join an Italian family, where food is high on the list of vital things. Where the US Marines say: Core, Unit, God and Country, we would say: Family, food, sex... the rest? Don't worry aboud id!

"Sorry, Sandy, I need to ring my parents. They have been calling non-stop," I said as we mopped up the last of the juices from the eggs with the remaining bread.

"Of course, Louie."

"Hi Mum," I said as soon as she answered the home phone.

"Giggino mio! Come stai?" She screamed into the phone. "Are you okay, are you eating?" She asked, real concern in her voice.

"I'm good Mum, really I am and I just finished a big meal," I reassured her.

"Hospital food?" She asked incredulously.

"No Ma, they let me go...err... early."

"Luigi! Don't you tell me fibs! You ran away, right?"

"Yes, Ma... but I am OK. Really."

"I am going to talk to your father..."

"Really I am OK, Ma," I pleaded. And then I played my ace. "The food was too terrible, really. Here, at least I have Sergio..."

She was silent for a few seconds.

"Thank God, Sergio is there to cook you proper food," she said relief in her voice, "Pip, predicted that you would not last long in hospital, are you sure you were ready to leave?"

"I am good, Mum, really I am. I'll drive up later today and see you all, if that's okay, Mum. How are the kids?" I asked, changing the subject, hoping to forestall the third degree that was sure to come next.

"They are good. The adoption papers are going through right now and they have started going to school," she said happily, successfully diverted from her line of inquiry.

"Okay, Mum, give everyone my love and I'll see you soonish. Love you."

"Love you, Louie." And we hung up.

"Everything okay?" Sandy asked.

"Fine," I said. "How do you feel about meeting the family? Too soon for you?

"No, I'm good with it. Looking forward to it, actually, but..." She said.

"But?"

"I have a big day at Uni. The Prof. wants me to go through my thesis with him. Since I have neglected it lately, I will need to go in very soon and do a lot of work before I actually get to see him. No doubt, he will find a whole lot of work for me to do after I see him... err... I don't think I'll be finished until pretty late," she explained. Her eyes were wide open and the grimace on her face reflected true regret. And there was a palpable uncertainty in her tone.

"I understand, Sandy, maybe next time," I said a little disturbed.

"I'm sorry too, Louie... and this brings up another subject I was avoiding..."

"Oh? Yes?"

"I won't be back tonight, I need to go home and pick up some books and things, do some work, you know... sorry..."

"It's okay, really. I probably need a good sleep anyway."

"I'll call a taxi. I should do it right now."

"Right. Well it's been a really good night, thank you Sandy," I said leaning over to kiss her lips. But it was just a peck and she was off without turning back.

After Sandy left, the flat felt like a desert. I hobbled around for a while not sure what to do. The murder wall was still up there. I considered taking it all down now that Hertz was dead and the case closed. But I was too unsettled to focus on one task, so I went to the balcony and spent time looking at the Harbour lights. I was not tired enough to go to bed, but too tired to do anything constructive. I decided that I needed a strong drink and some mind numbing music. With a glassful of JD and coke and Beethoven's sixth on the stereo I settled on the chair facing the Harbour and tried to think of nothing. Focusing on feeling the music and the joy it expressed so well.

The bark on my phone brought me back to reality, I saw that it was Steve.

"Is she still there with you?" He asked without preamble.

"No, why?" I didn't like the sound of this.

"Jesus, Louie how do you do it? She is his daughter, Louie, his motherfucking daughter, man!"

# Chapter 20

I could not speak for a few minutes, I could not breathe, I could not think. My body, my mind were frozen, as if I had just been dumped into a pool of liquid air. Images of Sonia dead, of the night when I had executed John Keats and his partners flashed again through my mind. Somehow they got mixed up with images of Sandy, of Sandy kissing me, of us making love.

"Are you there Louie?" Steve's voice brought me back.

"I'm here, but I wish I wasn't, Steve."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"I don't believe in coincidences, Louie!" He vocalised bluntly what was now running through both our minds.

"Yeah, I know that," I answered automatically. "Me neither."

"You want us to come over?"

"No, thanks Mate. I just need some time to think," I said, but I knew that I was unable to think.

"Louie, think real carefully, Mate. Odds are that she's tracked you down. Track you down to revenge her father. I can't see any other explanation."

"You're probably right," I said feeling the heavy, black cloud of depression descending on me. I was sick of this bullshit we call life. At that moment I could have easily eaten a bullet. But, no, I would never do that to my family and to Steve. It would be over quick and easy for me, but the effect on them would last for the rest of their lives. No, never that, whatever happened.

"Hey, Steve, I'm going to go now, I really need to think this through. Thanks for your help, Mate," I said.

"You are not going to do anything stupid are you?" He asked with real concern in his voice. "I think we should come over right now."

"Please don't, Mate. Really, I will be okay... I just need time to think, call you in the morning Mate."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, see you soon, Mate," then I hung up before he could give me further arguments. I really needed to think about this. This was a shit of a situation. Even if by the smallest chance in the universe it had been a coincidence and Sandy did not know what I had done, I would still have to tell her. Either way we were finished before we were even started.

What were those words in that song? "If I didn't have bad luck, I would have no luck at all" They described my love life to a T.

A wave of nausea and tiredness swept over me like a rogue wave, I needed some sleep very badly. I remembered that I was supposed to go to my parents. I really did not feel like it, so I called them and said I was not well enough to drive and that I would see them in a couple of days. Finally, I went to bed and cuddled up to Roger. I wanted to tear my hair out but I passed out instead.

I slept all day and almost all night long and every dream ended with Sandy pointing a gun at my head and then firing it, and firing, and firing, while her face morphed into her father's face, laughing and laughing and laughing. I woke up at about two am. Once again, my sheets were wet with sweat, and Roger had deserted me for the lounge. I got up and fetched a bottle of JD and returned to bed. Half the way through it I zoned out into the dreamless sleep of the dead drunk or the just plain dead.

# Chapter 21

Roger's sticky tongue woke me up bright and early Tuesday morning, his mewing sounds let me know what a rat I had been. While feeling sorry for myself, I had forgotten all about his needs. He had been a good dog and had not messed anywhere, but now he really needed to go for a walk. So I got dressed as quickly as I could manage and he dragged me at light speed down the stairs to the first available tree. He did not even bother to look for the perfect orientation, so urgent was his need, but did all his business right then and there.

"I am so sorry old Mate, I neglected you. It won't happen again, I promise," I said to him as an expression of heavenly release took over the look of pain and discomfort that had made me feel like a real rat. As part of a make-good gesture I took Roger for a long walk. On our way back, I stopped at the butcher and bought some nice mince and some bones for him as the rest of his make-up gift. You never need to make-up with dogs, they love you and trust you no matter how bad and selfish you are. I guess the gifts were to ease my conscience more than anything else.

I am not a religious person, but I believe in God - in a Deity that does not punish, and hence I do not believe in His counterpart. Sometimes I wonder if dogs were given to us to remind us of what we should aspire to become.

The long walk gave me an opportunity to think things through. There was no point delaying the inevitable. I like to rip off Band-Aids in one quick snap, and not dragging out the pain with a slow and careful removal. So, during our walk I called Sandy up. She said that she was on her way over and would see me in about an hour.

"Fine," I said. "See you then."

It was time that I resolved the puzzle. I was going to do it my way, Louie's way. I waited for her to use her key. I heard her enter the flat. I sat on my lounge, facing away from her, I had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"On the table behind me," I said without a greeting and in a monotone, not turning around to face her. "Is my gun. If all this charade has been just to revenge your father, I understand. Take it and do what you feel you must do."

There was a long quiet pause, I could feel that she was frozen on the spot, I heard a deep sigh. I did not turn around. The silence seemed to stretch to eternity.

"My step-father, actually, he married my mother when I was a few months old. My real father I never met. I knew that I made a big mistake telling you my real name, Louie. It just came out before I could stop myself. Not even Sergio knows it, I gave him a false name when he interviewed me for the job," she said and her voice was subdued and changed in pitch as if she was trembling as she spoke. I did not turn around or answer her, but just continued to admire the view of the beautiful harbour – what a sight it would have been to go out on.

Nothing much happened for what felt like another eternity. Then I heard her pick up the gun.

"This is it," I said to myself.

Then, I heard the most beautiful sound in' the world - the sound of her ejecting the empty magazine and it hitting the floor.

Just then the door burst open and I heard Steve's angry voice shout. "Put that gun down, NOW!"

We both turned around in surprise. Sandy was still holding onto the empty gun. Steve's gun was pointing straight at her head. He completely misinterpreted her intentions. I could see that he was about to shoot her. Shoot her dead.

"Noooo!" I shouted, jumping up, and in one unbelievable movement I sailed over the lounge and tackled Sandy down to the floor just as Steve's shot sailed just past my head to hit the window frame. Shattered glass rained into my flat like a spring shower. I felt the sonic boom as the bullet parted my hair.

"But it's not loaded..." Sandy murmured, still in utter shock as we hit the floor. A flash of sharp pain telegraphed to my brain from the injury on my leg to join forces with the one from my head as Sandy and I bumped heads as we hit the floor.

"Fuck!" Was all I could say.

"What's going on? I saw the gun... I thought she was about to... oh Jesus! Oh Jesus, are you okay?" Steve babbled incoherently from the door, dropping his gun on the floor and rushing over to help us.

"Oh Fuck! What have you done?" Maria screamed from the doorway. She had arrived a fraction too late and must have thought that Steve had just shot one of us by mistake.

"I'm okay," I reassured them. "Are you okay, Sandy?"

"But the gun was unloaded," she repeated still not grasping what had happened.

"I am sorry Mate... shit I nearly shot you, I thought... I thought..." Steve was still babbling and helping me up as I held onto Sandy, making it even harder for him.

In a way it was funny. It could have been a scene from the Keystone Cops. If the combined pain from my recent misadventures hadn't been almost blinding I might have even laughed.

It was a while before we were all sitting down with a drink. Steve was still visibly upset, Maria had picked up most of the glass from the floor and had made us all a drink with what little alcoholic beverage she could find, it seems that I had drunk the cupboard almost dry. For a while no one spoke. I guess we were all waiting for Sandy.

"I am sorry to have lied to you Louie. But you must believe me, I did not seek you out to kill you or to avenge the death of that animal that was my step-father," she said after a deep breath. On the last two words her voice had broken and now she was crying as if the pent-up emotions of a life time had been bottled up, and bottled up to explode as she sat there.

Relief and concern swept through me like a thousand volt shock. I turned and then I picked her up as if she was a child and I held her in my lap. Held her tight for a long time as her tears flowed and her sobs had no end. I held her and rocked her softly, I said nothing. There was nothing to say. I could see that Steve did not know where to look, Maria's eyes were beginning to sparkle in empathy.

My mobile barked, but I ignored it, even Roger did not respond. He was busy looking at us, a worried look on that ugly but so expressive face. I don't know how much dogs understand, but Roger knew that Sandy was very distressed and he did the only thing he could do, he stayed close and licked her on the foot.

Strangely, it was his involvement that finally stemmed her tears. She could no longer ignore his pure, innocent goodness.

She stopped crying, looked down at him and patted him softly.

"Good boy, good boy... I'm alright boy, don't be sad. It's okay... really, it's okay boy," she said while holding me tightly. I knew then, that everything would work out. Somehow we would work through this, somehow we would survive it, and we would do it together.

# Chapter 22

"I saw you, that night you came to get him." Sandy said sitting next to me on the lounge. "I did not say anything because I knew that you were my salvation, our salvation," she added.

I held her but said nothing.

"He was a very bad man, and a worse husband and an even worse as a substitute father," she continued. "He bashed and assaulted my mother almost every week. She was beaten to submission for years upon years. He started visiting my room on my twelfth birthday and did not stop until I was fifteen... after my little step-sister was born," she paused for a moment or two and then in a voice that was hardly audible. "My little step-sister... my daughter," and she paused again, as tears sprung silently to her eyes, once more.

I wasn't sure that I had heard her correctly, but I did not want to ask. But she seemed to sense my uncertainty.

"That's right, my little sister is also my daughter. That animal could not even take basic precautions. I was pregnant with his baby by the time I was fourteen and a bit."

I said nothing. I could not think of anything to say.

"But didn't people wonder, wasn't he questioned by the police, by the school?" Steve asked and Maria just listened.

"He had all the money in the world, he could buy anything, anyone..." She explained, with chagrin in her voice. "Anyone except you," she added, squeezing my hand.

"He whisked Mum and me away," she continued. "Told everyone that he had sent us on a round the world trip. 'Nothing is too good for my girls' the slime-bag told his friends. All the while we were in a small cottage in the country. Mum had to deliver little Sophia. I nearly bled to death. But we were not allowed to seek medical help. It all had to be kept secret. Somehow, poor Mum managed it. Away from him she is a capable woman, in his presence she was hardly coherent. Poor Mum, she suffered so much. Thankfully, now she is a lot better. We both love Sophia. She thinks that Mum is her mother and that I am the older sister. She is a beautiful and smart girl. We were so lucky that genetics did not pull a nasty trick on us – she is nothing like him, in any way." She went to her purse and from her wallet she brought out a small photo of a gorgeous looking little girl. She looked like a miniature Sandy. I passed the photo to Maria, who now started to sob quietly.

"She is spectacular," I said. "She looks just like you."

She smiled and then pressed on with her story. "That night, when I saw you leave, taking him with you at gun point. I woke Mum up and told her," she explained. "I remember that she just smiled, and said 'thank God, a guardian angel has finally saved us, Sandy.' We hugged and then we got up. She cooked us a special breakfast. She told me then what she had been doing for the past year, hoping that something like this would happen."

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

"Do you remember your investigation, from that time?" She asked.

"Everything about that episode... is burned into my mind," I admitted.

"Oh, I am so sorry... so sorry, Louie. Our salvation was a direct result of your greatest suffering. I did not know about your wife, Sonia, at the time, but later, much later I pieced it all together. I had started researching his death, I wanted to know all about our guardian angel, as Mum called you. It's what brought me finally here about a year ago. I was going to tell you, but I did not know you, you might have thought that I was crazy or a demented stalker or something. I really was going to tell you... but then, the more I saw of you the more I talked about you to Sergio and to other people, the more I liked you. I was falling in love with you even before I had met you. Is that too crazy? Is that too crazy for you?"

"No, it's not too crazy for me," I said. "But what did your Mum have to do with the investigation?"

"Did you have an anonymous informant?"

"Yes! We did," I confirmed. "The information we received was what finally broke the case. We were getting nowhere fast until the informant. We wondered who it could possibly be. None of us considered her, we always thought of her as a harmless mouse, completely controlled by her husband. Wow! Gutsy lady," I said in utter admiration.

"Yes, but I have never told her how her action resulted in the death of your wife. She would never forgive herself, she has suffered enough in her life."

"I would not want her to know, she wasn't responsible for it. The people responsible were punished and I wasn't nice about it, so don't ever tell her," I agreed.

"Thank you, Louie, I knew you would understand," she said and squeezed my hand. "Well, that's pretty much it, you all know the rest. I am sorry I wasn't up front, Louie, but I have not lied to you in any other way," she finished, looking me in the eyes, wanting me to believe her.

Hey, I'm a sucker for beautiful eyes, especially when they are attached to a great body and a not so shabby smile – I believed her, and I told her so.

I then got up and fetched my gun and a new, full magazine, placed it into the gun. I put one in the spout, walked back to Sandy and shot her in the head.

# Chapter 23

Of course I didn't!

Are you crazy or something?

I put the gun away and we all went down to one of Sergio's fine tables for a well-deserved and hearty breakfast.

Had you going for a bit, uh? The last chapter was all too depressing for me so I thought that I would jolt us out of it... it worked didn't it?

During breakfast we discussed the conclusion of the case. Steve had some news about the safe in Reece's office. It had finally been opened by an expert. It was empty – no formula and no sample. "No-nothin'." As Steve put it.

"So where is it?" I asked. "And did it ever exist?"

"What formula?" Sandy asked. As it was all but over, I described the whole case to her. Halfway through my telling, she interrupted me.

"I don't mean to sound foolish, but... " She started.

"Go ahead, honey, it's never stopped Louie!" Steve informed her brightly.

"Well," she continued dubiously. "Dr. Reece may not have put the formula in such an obvious place... safes can be broken into," she faltered.

"Go on," I encouraged.

"It must be hidden well, or maybe, as they say in movies: in plain sight."

Silence. We said nothing.

"Good point, Sandy," Maria commented dryly.

"I hate to say this, but we need to start from scratch," I said.

"I would like to help," Sandy volunteered.

"Why not? The three musketeers were really four as well, right?"

"Where do we start?" Asked Sandy.

"Back to the bat-cave, Robyn!" Steve and I said in unison. Sandy's puzzled expression disappeared once Maria explained: "Back to the murder wall. You'll get used to them, eventually... if you are really unlucky!"

Before we left the table, I suggested that Henry should be there as well. "He can clear the apartment from bugs and he is brilliant on computers and has a fine mind." I added.

"Excellent idea, why don't you give him a buzz and ask him over?" Steve agreed. But, Henry was not able to join us until after school hours, so he suggested that we visit him instead. I liked the idea of going for a drive and readily agreed. Anyway, it was high time for Sandy to meet the other lady in my life – Doris II. This meeting could be a deal breaker. In my opinion, if you don't like Doris, then you are not human!

Sandy took one look at Doris, stopped in her tracks and said quietly, "The answer is YES!"

"You'll learn to live with the geological name?" I asked.

"If that car comes with the deal."

"You bet!" I exclaimed, happily.

"What are you two going on about?" Maria asked, confused.

"I think that they just got engaged." My quick friend smiled at her and then at us.

"How did he work that out?" Asked Sandy in amazement.

"He is not good looking, but he thinks he is smart!" I explained. "Alright, alright... he is good looking and he is smart, I hate that!"

I made Sandy's day and let her drive Doris. I know, I am a softy... well, that, and the fact that I could hardly move my legs.

She was a dreadful driver, too hesitant, too slow, too unpredictable... I could see that a few weeks attendance of Louie's driving school would prove to be essential in the nearest future. But, to everyone's disbelief we made it in one piece all the way to Henry's house; even Doris seemed to sigh in relief. When Henry opened his front door to let us in, his expression of delight was replaced with one of utter surprise.

"Sandy? What are you doing here?"

"Henry?" Sandy answered equally shocked, and then they rushed into a hug as long lost friends.

"You two know each other?" My surprise was even greater than theirs combined.

"Yes, Louie, Sandy and Helen helped us a great deal in getting my son Frankie on the way to being normal again... you know... " He did not finish his explanation as the whole incident still pained him a great deal (see Incy Wincy Spider).

"We first met Henry and Frankie at a group meeting for the victims of abuse," Sandy explained further.

"How is your Mum and that delightful bundle of joy, little Sophia?" Asked Henry.

"They are fine thanks, Henry. And you don't have to worry... Louie and Steve and Maria know the whole story," Sandy reassured him.

"I am glad to hear it," Henry said still uncertainly.

"As a matter of fact, Henry, I know you will remember Mum and I talking about our 'Guardian Angel'"

"Of course I do, Sandy."

"Well, it turns out that our 'Guardian Angel' was none other than Louie."

At that Henry looked at me with that intense light in his eyes that I had seen before. "It seems that Louie and Steve are very good at that sort of thing," He said with a big smile on his face.

"You don't mean that it was they that... let you... " Sandy started.

"None other," Henry nodded.

"The terrific duo - our lil' angels!" Maria commented dryly, eyes in the air.

# Chapter 24

Once we were all seated in Henry's toy filled lounge and we all had drinks, Maria brought Henry up to date with the case. He readily agreed that a complete start over was now needed, as he put it - from 'ground Zero'.

"OK, so the first thing to do is to really look on-line at the Reece's, see how their minds worked... and I guess that's my job." Henry said. The others concurred, but Sandy looked a bit puzzled.

"What's up Sandy?" Steve asked her.

"Well, I am new to all this..." She hesitated, "But while Henry is searching on-line, shouldn't we go back to the factory and really look it over?"

"And that's exactly what we are going to do," I agreed as the idea had been in the back of my mind for some time.

It did not take us long to drive back to the Reece's factory, which now looked deserted and forlorn. Steve still had the keys from when we had put together our trap for the elusive Mr. Smith.

As I entered the building an uneasy feeling of dread started to envelop me. It climaxed when I entered the office where I had been found unconscious on the floor. The memory of the event rushed back into my brain like a freight train. That and the unsteadiness in my legs knocked me for six and if it hadn't been for Steve I would have hit the floor again.

"Steady there, Mate," he said with concern as he grabbed me and eased me into a chair.

"What is the matter, Louie?" Sandy's worried voice cut through the fog in my mind. "You are white as a sheet!"

"I... I remember I... " I mumbled

"You remember falling over?" Maria asked.

"I did not fall over... the person you saw killed wasn't fucking Smith! Smith was right here with me... The bastard hit me on the head, it wasn't the floor, it was Smith! He is alive!"

"Fuck! Are you sure?" Steve asked, his expression doubting my sanity.

"I am positive, Mate."

He stared intensely at me with his laser eyes, slowly his expression changed to utter acceptance. "I should have known that it was just too easy!"

"I wonder who we shot then," Maria asked, sorrow filling her every word. "His third accomplice? Was he up on the roof all the time, sent there to divert us?"

"That sounds like something that ruthless bastard would do. I'd better call this in to Headquarters. There's going to be hell to paiy. Damn Smith to hell!" Steve rumbled as he speed-dialed his boss.

Maria's worried face mutated to one of near despair. "Oh no! Louie the kids, call your family right away!" Maria pleaded.

I did not answer, my mind was still reeling; reliving that experience with Smith.

"Louie!" Maria shouted. "Get a fucking grip... the kids!"

It was like being dunked head first into ice cold water. I did not answer but instead I hit the speed dial on my mobile even before it was out of my pocket.

"Luigi, how are you?" My father's steady baritone answered the phone and as always steadied my thoughts and I could once more think clearly.

"Dad? Please listen carefully get in your car and go and pick up the kids from school right now, Dad, quickly please. Smith is alive, Dad."

"Alive? But..."

"Please Dad, move as fast as you can and ring me as soon as you have them," I hung up to avoid further questions. I knew Dad would be in the Fairmont already and on his way to the children's school. The worry did not leave Maria's face, I guessed that it would be there until we knew that the children were safe and in the hands of my family. Not even Smith could get them away from my father and brothers. He would be a dead man if he tried.

Steve had been listening to his boss rave on and to me at the same time and also looked worried and angry.

"How long before he rings back?" He asked, turning to face me.

"Not long, the school is not far," I said.

It was not very long in real time, but to all of us it seemed like time had stopped flowing. Like we were caught in a time warp frozen in space. The spell was finally broken by the bark from my mobile. I pressed the green button and braced myself.

"Louie..." And he did not have to say anything else. The tone in my father's voice told it all. My heart sank. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Maria and Sandy as they both read the expression on my face. I heard a heart-felt "FUCK!" from Steve and then I heard the rest of the words from my poor old man, it sounded like he had aged twenty years in the space of a few minutes. "Louie, son... they are gone; he's got them. I'm so sorry, my boy."

I could say nothing. My vocal chords were paralyzed. My father's voice on the other end of the microwaves went on. "Is there anything we can do from here, son... just ask and we are all in it. We will do anything, I mean anything Luigi." As he spoke that unstoppable strength that I had admired all my life had returned in his voice. And it gave me strength. It was like spinach to Popeye the sailor man.

"Nothing to do right now, Dad. Not until we hear from Smith. Don't worry, he will call and not harm the kids till he has what he wants. Just let the others know and I'll call later. And Dad..."

"Yes?"

"No one is to blame, Dad... we just did not know he was still alive. OK Dad?"

"Sure thing, Luigi." He answered but I knew him. He blamed himself and was already suffering for it. We said our goodbyes and I looked at my friends.

If a picture would have to be painted of us four standing there, in that empty office, only Munch could have done it justice and he would have called it 'Desperation'.

Steve was first to snap out of it and once again called his commander, this time there was no rave and shouts. The call was very short and to the point.

"A team is on its way to the school and to your family," he announced while hanging up the phone. "For all the good it will do," he finished.

My mind had been in a state of confusion and muddled thinking for what seemed to be a long time. Mike's death, my injuries, the loss of my memory and falling in love with Sandy had all contributed to a state of turpitude that was not unlike having been sleep-walking for weeks. Like a flash flood, all of it was washed away and finally the old think box seemed to be working on all cylinders.

"Right," I said. "This is what we are going to do. Steve you probably have to report in and will have to work the police investigation into the kidnapping. Maria and Sandy you two stay here and see if you can track down the formula. Henry is working the computers..."

"And you? What are you going to do?" Asked Maria. But Steve answered for me.

"He is going to wait for Smith's call and then he is going to take care of it," he said looking at them.

"What do you mean by 'take care of it'?" Asked Sandy.

"Take care of it means: the Louie Way, which you will definitely not find it in his textbook," Steve admonished in a knowing tone.

"Louie?" Sandy turned to me, concerned but not knowing why.

"Don't worry, Sandy. It's just Steve's overactive imagination..." I smiled, but I guessed that from her expression, it was not a nice smile.

"How do you know Smith is even going to call?" She asked.

"He'll call, of that I am sure," I reassured her. "And he'll call soon."

And he did call, as if he'd had the factory bugged all along: he called right then.

# Chapter 25

"Louie!" He said jovially. "Glad to see that you have completely recovered, for a moment I thought I might have hit you a little too hard. But then your head is pretty hard isn't it?"

"Cut the crap Smith or Hertz or whatever the fuck your name is, where are the kids?"

"Why, right here with me, old friend. You want to say hello? Mmm... no I think not."

"Before anything happens, Hertz, I want proof of life, arsehole. Put Carly on and do it now."

"OK Louie, I'll show you how straight I am being with you... here."

"Carly?" I asked.

"Yes it's me, Uncle Louie," it was the first time she had called me Uncle. It drove a spike right through me... I stifled a grunt of pain.

"Are you alright?" I croaked.

"Yes, we are both OK," she said but I could tell that they were far from being in any way OK.

"Right!" He was back on the line. "That's enough for now..."

"What do you want?" I asked, despise and hate in my voice.

"I told you I had one more job for you, Louie and here it is; bring me the formula and the kids go unharmed. It's that easy, old man."

"Right when and where?"

"You have the formula?"

"Yes. Of course I have it," I said the big lie, and saw Maria's and Sandy's eyes widen in surprise. Steve just nodded as if this was as obvious as two plus two. He knew me well.

"Really? And how do I know you have not copied it?" Smith asked, now suspicious.

"Because it's on and encrypted flash drive which has not been opened yet, the police IT team have been unable to open it without activating the self-destruct command. It apparently self-erases all data after three tries. It flashes a warning, when you plug it in. I am sure that you will be capable of opening it - you are the biggest arsehole I have ever met; but no one ever said that you were stupid." I continued to make it up as I went.

"There you are right, Louie. OK the kids for the flash drive but you must come alone and unarmed."

"Sure thing, old man," I mimicked his condescending tone. "When and where?"

"Right, I like that – straight to the point. No time wasting stuff. Come tonight 11 pm sharp."

"Where?"

"You know where."

"I do?"

"Sure you do. Where you did some of your best work, Louie," and he laughed. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew where he wanted to meet and why. I could not stop myself from looking up into Sandy's eyes. But she did not understand. She could not, she did not know the details, just the result. Steve did and I heard him mutter under his breath, "motherfucking arsehole!"

"And Louie, I hope this will not worry you too much, John Keats was a personal friend of mine," once more he laughed.

"Even if I believed you I would not be surprised in the least - shit sticks together. But face it old man, a turd like you has no friends," I said. If he had known me better, he would have realised that this was the time to feel fear - the tone in my voice had changed and clearly predicted his future: he was a dead man, talking.

Steve knew, and he visibly blanched. He started to say something and then realized the futility of it and paradoxically seemed to brighten up as if he'd just won lotto, and commented aloud, "Now he is really fucked, the stupid man."

"Make sure you bring the kids to our meeting," I said to Smith. "I will destroy the flash drive if you turn up alone and you can bank on that... old man."

"See you in a while, crocodile," Smith laughed and hung up.

All three were silent and looking at me as if I was some stranger with horns growing out of his head. And I guessed that I did look different from just a few minutes ago. I felt different, I felt like I had felt once before. The pain in my legs and head was gone, my mind had shut it out. It was not needed. Only Smith and the kids were in my mind and of course, a plan. You gotta have a plan, right?

"What are you going to do?" Sandy was the first to break the spell. "We don't have the formula"

"Don't worry about that, Sandy. We go on as before, you and Maria look for the formula. Steve reports in and... and I have a few things to get ready, I have a long trip ahead of me," I hesitated. "I noticed the other day that you save a lot of your work on a flash drive Sandy... could I borrow it for a few hours?"

"But, but..." She hesitated, not understanding.

"Just give him the flash drive, he won't explain the rest of it anyway," Steve suggested.

Sandy looked at Steve, then at me and then at Maria who also nodded as if it all made perfectly good sense. Finally she shrugged her shoulders in defeat and reached into her jeans and extracted a red coloured Nano drive. She looked at it for a few seconds as if it might be Aladdin's lamp and then tossed it at me in a slow easy arc. I caught it with one hand and placed it into my jeans fob pocket.

"Don't worry, I'll think of something," I reassured her, walked over and kissed her deeply for a moment or two or three... pecked Maria's cheek and winked at Steve.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Mate," he said.

"Never! Upholding the Law is my motto, you know that."

"Yeah, I know that."

# Chapter 26

I could tell you all about my preparations to meet Hertz. But, it would be a waste of space – as there weren't any. I got into Doris II, pointed her toward the outback and started driving. I was heading to a place where, long ago, I had executed John Keats - Sandy's horrible step-father. I had taken him to his death, not for what he had done as a criminal, not for what he done as a 'father', I did not know about that ugly aspect of his character then. I had taken him there because of he had ordered the brutal murder of the love of my life, Sonia. It had been a closed chapter in my life and now Smith had cracked it open once again. It was like opening Pandora's Box – evil was sure to follow.

This time I did not have a plan. Or maybe, I did – my plan was to end Hertz's existence on planet Earth. How that was going to happen, I left up to the universe to decide. Me, I knew the final result and that was good enough.

I got to the very same spot at about five minutes to eleven. It was a foggy night, but I could see that Hertz was already there. He had a nice camp fire going. The fog haloed the flames and added an eerie atmosphere that struck me as completely appropriate for my task. He was there, sitting on a log with the children at his feet. He sat there like a good Scout-master - except for one thing: the kids were bound and gagged and looked very, very scared. Hertz saw me and immediately raised his silenced gun to Carly's side, which was his first mistake.

I opened the car door and stepped out. In my left hand I held up Sandy's flash drive and in the other I pointed my Glock straight at Hertz.

"I said unarmed!" He warned, raising the gun all the way to Carly's temple. That was his second mistake. She tried to move away, terribly frightened, but he held her in place.

"I know what you said, Hertz. But I never agreed to it, did I?'

Hang on a minute, folks!

Please allow me to digress from the re-telling of this sordid story in order to rave-on about TV cop shows. Most are pretty good but they do annoy me a great deal when they depict the kind of situation that I was now in. This is how it usually goes:

"Drop your gun or I'll shoot her," the evil perp. screams outs menacingly to the good cop. The evil perp. has a gun to the head of a helpless victim.

What does the nice, but mentally retarded cop do? He drops the gun!

What does he think is going to happen next? Does he think that he perp. will let them both go for being nice? Idiot!

By rights the Perp. should shoot him immediately, just for being such a cretin and then, perhaps, shoot the victim as well - just to make a point.

But alas, that never happens on TV \- the good cop somehow overpowers the nasty perp. and the cop and the victim marry and have a wonderful life together blah, blah and blah!

Me, I don't think so!

But, Hertz, he must have watched the same shows, and believed them. Worse still he must have thought that I believed them, and that was kind of insulting.

Now back to our tale.

As I spoke to him I continued a slow progress toward their little 'camp'

"Grigor, you really disappoint me, you know that?"

"How so, Louie?" He answered in that snide and derisive tone in his voice.

"Well, you have not thought this all the way through, have you?" I stopped him from answering me by holding up the hand with the flash drive in it. I then continued, "no, no let me explain. You felt that your number one priority from this meeting of ours was to obtain the formula, right? Well, let me tell you: it isn't!"

"You think?"

"Absolutely. Your number one priority is to come out of it alive or the formula will do you no good at all, will it? And at the moment the only thing you can be sure of is that within the next five minutes you will be dead, unless you drop your gun right now. Sure you may shoot my very good friend Carly. But less than a second after you do that, you, Grigor will also be very dead."

He said nothing.

"NO, I am not going to drop my gun, my good friend," I continued. "Because if I do... well, we both know that it will be a certainty that I will be dead and both kids will be dead as well. So... you see where you went wrong? Think about it for a second."

He still said nothing but I could see that he was thinking, I did not give him the time. What happened next was really simple.

Really simple: I shot him in the head and he dropped like a stone.

There was no posthumous contraction of the fingers, muscles need oxygen, blood, nerve impulses to move. Sure there could have been a death-spasm, but I have never seen one. He was holding a Glock just like mine and the standard trigger pull is about 3 kg. Think about that: it's like holding three one kilo bags of flour on just your index finger - there is no way that a dead body was going to squeeze that.

I untied the kids and hugged them close to me for a long time. The erupted out as a flood of sobs and tears. I knew what they really needed now – a lot of rest and a lot of my family.

Once they had calmed down a bit, I carried them in my arms to Doris and then I let them lie down on Doris' back seat covered them with a blanket, which I had brought with me for that purpose (OK, OK I can hear all the good-doers saying: "Bad Louie, they are not wearing seat belts!" So? Sue me!) It did not take long for both to cuddle up and fall asleep.

Pretty good result all told. I reckoned.

But, it wasn't over.

Once the kids were on the back seat and asleep, I went back to where I had left Smith, and to my astonishment — he wasn't there.

"Motherfucker!" I said under my breath, "this arsehole just won't die!"

I activated the flash light on my mobile phone and searched around for him. I was beginning to panic. I swept the whole area quickly and then more carefully.

On the second sweep I picked up his trail.

I found him crawling on his hands and knees, trying to get away. He was alive but still a bit groggy. I could see how my bullet had just furrowed a groove on the side of his head: away from where he had been holding Carly. I guess that I must have overcompensated a bit in trying to keep the bullet away from her.

He turned around and looked at me. I pointed his silenced gun at his head. I had picked it up as a matter of habit, when I had approached the kids. I said nothing but I took the opportunity to search him. I found his mobile phone, some cash and a wallet. I pocketed the lot. I watched as he fixed his shiny black and beady eyes on me and I felt the evil pour out of him in a flood of hate.

"Well, dear Grigor, I thought I had killed you. But you are one lucky son of a bitch and you are still breathing. In a way, I am glad that you are still alive, my good friend."

"You are going to take me in... to the cops?" He asked, his snide tone back to its usual level.

"Are you nuts? You'd be out in less than a day, and then where would we be?"

"You were a cop. You are not going to kill me. You can't do it, you're too much of a whimp."

"The bullet that grazed your head must have caused some sort of loss of IQ, my dear Grigor. Is that anyway to talk to someone standing over you with a silenced gun?"

"Fuck you!"

"So, you were a good friend of that animal, John Keats, right?"

"So fucking what?"

"Well, the way I'm thinking, you make a good couple... friends should share experiences – you know what I mean?" And for the first time I saw what fear looked like on that smug face. He knew what had happened to Keats.

"I see that you do," I nodded, and then smiled. "I am glad that you do, Grigor."

"Don't, Louie... please, I'll tell you everything. Louie, let's make a deal," he pleaded, and I knew he was lying, he always lied – it just was his nature like that story about the scorpion and the horse.

I slipped one of his expensive moccasins off his foot, removed the sock and stuffed it in his mouth - the kids were sleeping.

"As you sit here by the lovely campfire you built. The same campfire you were planning to be the last thing those kids would ever see. Reflect on all the low and evil things you have done in your life. Grigor, your luck has just run out... it's time to pay the Piper. This is for Mrs. Reece," I explained, and then I shot him in one knee.

His scream was well muffled by the expensive silk sock.

"This, for Dr. Reece," and the second knee exploded.

Again he screamed.

"This one is for Mike," and his elbow disintegrated.

He did not have the strength left in him to scream a third time.

"And finally, one for just being a real nasty prick and putting those kids through hell," his other elbow turned to red mush.

He lay there moaning in pain. I hoped that he used the time to learn the very important lesson: pain is not as much fun when it's inflected on you.

I could have left him, there to die... for hours. But, I am a nice fellow at heart, so I ended it for him after half an hour or so – one in the head and two in the heart. Call me a softy if you will, what can I say? Apart from that, the prick had more lives than a cat, I wanted to be sure!

"In a long, long while, crocodile," I said to the body, turned and walked back to the car. Without a backward glance, I drove back to Sydney. Before, leaving I had taken the opportunity of sending a text message to my parents, to Steve, to Maria and to Sandy. "Veni, vidi, vici." I am very poetic person at heart.

# Chapter 27

But, it still wasn't over.

I knew this exactly one day and ten minutes after I'd left Hertz in the desert - the phone rang and that hated voice spoke at the other end.

"Louie," she said.

"Robyn... fuck me! What the... " I answered and could not finish the sentence

"Fucking bitch!" Steve finished it for me.

Till that moment we had been enjoying a quiet drink in my flat. The girls were out shopping. We were all elated that the case, such as it had been was finished - over Rover. But, now I knew that it wasn't over, not even close.

She said nothing.

"Robyn, to what do I owe this immense displeasure?"

"I want that formula, Louie," she got right to the point.

"Go fuck yourself!" I said and hung up.

"I'll drink to that," Steve said, he swallowed half of his beer in one tremendous mouthful, stopped and asked. "How did she know we have the formula?"

"I hate to be picky, Steve, but we don't have the fucking formula!"

"I know that. But Smith was convinced that we had it. And now she thinks we have it."

"Hertz."

"What hurts? Your head? Leg?"

"Gees! His name was Hertz not Smith."

"OK, you are picky! Hertz then. You think that Hertz was working for Robyn still? That he had not gone rogue like she told us?"

"Well, it explains her phone call right now, don't you think?"

"Could be a coincidence."

"Yeah right! It's no coincidence that she's a motherfucking bitch!"

"You're right there. She is a bitch and she won't let it go ever, and so, now we have her to deal with. Her and all her spooks!"

"Should be interesting."

"Yeah, interesting like, Ebola!" Steve said and finished his drink.

Steve and I watched the harbour lights come on as the day ended. We did not speak much, both of us lost in thought. Finally Steve got up and fetched us another drink. He handed it over to me and asked. "What are we going to do?"

"I have a plan," I said.

"I thought you would," he said.

"But it needs more work. Let's take Roger for a walk while I think more on it. We should include Henry and the girls anyway."

"Sounds good to me," he agreed and finished his drink. Roger, who till that moment had appeared dead to the world, opened an eye thus keeping Steve under close surveillance. As Steve approached his lead and collar, the old dog jumped up like he was on springs.

"Sounds good to Roger, as well," Steve commented as he collared his old enemy, who could not stop licking his hands, now that they were pals again.

By the time we returned to the flat a couple of hours later, the girls were back and all excited about the purchases they had made. We did not spoil their enthusiasm and with just a silent exchange of a look, Steve and I decided to delay telling the girls about Robyn's call. We decided to finish off their wonderful day with a meal at Sergio's.

Although he is always heavily booked out, six days a week, Sergio always reserved a table just for us. There was no problem finding it – we could have all walked to it blindfolded. The menu was pretty spectacular as we had come to expect from Sergio and once we had ordered, the girls continued a blow by blow description of their shopping spree. It was a great meal, it was aided and abetted by great wine and happy conversation. While the girls went to freshen-up I took the opportunity to call Henry, we agreed that he would come over in the morning after dropping his son at school.

After dinner we all went to the movies. It was a good one, after it we had a nightcap and finally Steve and Maria went to their flat, Sandy and I to mine. Sandy was still excited from her great day, it made our lovemaking even more phenomenal that usual, which is saying a lot. Sandy fell asleep soon after, but I could do nothing but toss and turn. I finally got up, sat on my small balcony and had a drink, smoked and thought. About two am I went to bed and fell asleep immediately, the plan was a lot clearer in my mind. It was simple and could even work, for a little while.

I was up at eight and making coffee for us when Sandy walked into the tiny kitchenette, she looked at me speculatively. "OK mister, you put up a good act, but what's bothering you?"

"I am sorry, Sandy we did not want to spoil your day."

"And you didn't, really. When Maria and I went to the Ladies to freshen, we agreed that you two were doing a good job of trying to hide something from us. We decided not to disappoint you and played along, after a while I think that all four of us believed the fantasy and really enjoyed ourselves."

"Yes you are right, it was a good night."

"But now, it's morning and so... tell me," she said while accepting the cuppa I was now offering her. I led her to the balcony - we both love watching the city come awake.

"Sandy, did I ever tell you about Robyn?"

"Robyn?"

And so I told her. She let me speak uninterruptedly till the doorbell rang and I got up and let Steve and Maria in.

"She knows..." Was the first thing that Steve said.

"So does Sandy," I said, then we both shrugged.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was just past nine thirty, I knew that Sergio would still be open for breakfast.

"Give us a minute or two to get dressed and we'll go down and have some breaky," I suggested to Steve and Maria.

"Just get dressed, no fooling around..." Steve warned.

"Of course, Mate, you know me."

"Exactly. If you are not down in five minutes I'm coming up to get you!"

"OK, OK don't get your knickers in a knot."

"It's not my knickers that I was talking about..." He said and with a warning final look, Maria dragged him out and down the stairs.

So we had a quickie, just to prove that we could.

Sometime later we were all seated and I ignored Steve's looks of suspicion. He was just about to comment when Henry arrived. After hellos, shakes of hands, pecks on the cheeks and how-are-yous we settled down and ordered breakfast. Steve brought Henry up to date while we waited for our food.

"... and Louie has a plan," Steve finished his update.

"Louie is always the man with a plan," Maria commented.

"And sometimes his plans are very nice," Sandy giggled. Maria giggled. Maria never giggled! Steve scowled.

"It's a bit rough, but I am sure that you guys will be able to knock it into shape," I warned.

"OK, tell us," Steve said.

"It's simple," I stopped.

"Yes... OK, go on... " Steve blurted, getting impatient.

"We give Robyn the formula!" I said triumphantly.

I must admit that it definitely was a conversation stopper. They all looked at me with amazement or probably pity.

Henry cleared his throat. "The plan is remarkable in its simplicity, Louie. However, I can see one major difficulty... we don't have the formula."

"Ah, and that's where it becomes a little more complicated. Robyn does not know that, she is convinced that we do have it. As we all agreed, Hertz probably convinced her that we have it. But, we don't give it to her right away... we put up a bit of a fight... so that she does not become suspicious."

"OK, Louie... but the fact remains that we still don't have the formula," Maria pointed out.

"True, Maria, but then even if we had it, I still would not give it to her."

"Why not? She is part of our Government, right?" Sandy asked.

"That's exactly why we would not give it to her," Steve piped in.

"Anyway, we still don't have the formula," she countered.

"Yes we do not have it. But Robyn believes that it is encrypted onto a flash drive, and that is what we give her or better allow her to find: an encrypted flash drive. I am sure that Henry here can encrypt a flash drive that will keep them busy for a while, right Henry?"

"I can do that," he answered simply.

"We also add the warning that two attempts have already been made to open the encryption and that a third unsuccessful attempt will result in all of the data being wiped. That will slow them down even more, right Henry?"

"Right Louie, it will certainly give us a few hours or so."

"I was hoping for more, still beggars can't be choosers," I said. "Well, what do you think?"

"What happens after that?" Steve asked

"Well, that is where luck comes in. We have to find the real formula during that time. Once we have it we will publish it on the web: every forum, social network, twitter etc... everywhere. It will be out there and there will be nothing she can do about it."

"Except for two things..." Steve said, and counting on his long fingers, like he knows drives me crazy. "One – we don't have the formula. And two – Robyn is a vengeful bitch, she will definitely come after us if we make a fool of her."

"Right on both counts, my friend," I agreed. "So, it's imperative that," and now I counted on my stubby fat fingers, hoping to piss him off in turn. "One – we find the formula. And – two we fuck her up properly first. See? A simple plan," I smiled.

"Oh boy. You are insane!" Maria exclaimed, shaking her head. I would like to think that the others did not agree with her and that the nodding of their heads was due to a nervous tick; but even I could not be that optimistic.

I looked around me. Looked at my friends and waited for the nodding to die down, "If anyone has an alternative plan, let's hear it," I proposed.

I waited and waited. Then the waiter came over and started clearing our table. I noticed that no one had finished their breakfast but no one stopped him either. I guessed that my plan had caused a universal loss of appetite.

"OK let's at least start by preparing the false flash drive, we don't have to use it unless we have to. I have a feeling that Robyn will be all over me like a rash very shortly," I suggested. "Meanwhile you guys can come up with an alternative plan, right?"

I turned to Henry. "How long will that take?"

"About half an hour," he answered.

"Do you need to go home to do it?" I asked.

"No, Mate; I can use your computer. All the software I will need is on-line. And I have a new flash drive in my pocket. I was going to download some movies for Frankie on it, but they can wait," he answered removing from his pocket a new USB stick still in the packaging.

"Right, let's go upstairs and start this business," I said standing up. They all stood up with me and we filed out of the restaurant and upstairs quietly. On the way past the till I dropped a twenty into the tip glass and waved Sergio goodbye. I had a running bill with Sergio. We settled once a month, it made things a lot easier.

Roger greeted all of us with the enthusiasm that threatened to have him airborne on tail-wagging power alone. I pointed Henry toward the computer that he had given me so long ago and he got to work right away. Minutes were wasted trying to open the stupid packaging they have these days that is designed to be nuclear weapon proof.

"What information do you want me to encrypt on the drive, Louie?" He asked after a few minutes of keyboard bashing.

"Just a large file, let's say a picture, Henry," I answered.

"OK. I can re-size it to take up most of the flash-drive's memory. The larger the file the longer it will take to decrypt... do you have a picture in mind, Louie?"

"Yes... just Google-Images the phrase 'Go fuck yourself,'" I answered. He smiled and bashed a few keystrokes.

"She is going to be pissed at you, Louie!" He said.

At a touch of a few more keystrokes the picture he had chosen started to dissolve and morph into a long series of inexplicable symbols. Through the magic of Henry's software these symbols morphed into another picture, this time of a pastoral scene. Henry saved the file on the USB stick, password protected it with another bit of software, which produced long random character passwords and then looked up.

"Done!" He said.

"What exactly happened to the original picture?" Steve asked.

"It was encrypted into a series of meaningless symbols. Meaningless unless you have the encryption key. Then those were further encrypted into part of the binary code that produced the pastoral scene," Henry explained and we all nodded as if we really understood it.

"Maria, I need your sneaky mind," I said turning to her.

"Oh yes?" She answered not sure whether I was being complementary or insulting, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed in front of her.

"I mean it in a nice way," I reassured her.

"Oh yes?" She repeated, unconvinced.

"Absolutely, I need you to hide this USB in this flat where it will take those AIA spooks a few hours to find it. She brightened visibly and extended her hand out.

"No problemo," she said, smiling.

"They will tear your flat apart," Steve warned. "After they finish with it, there won't be a piece of furniture left that's bigger than a cockroach."

"Better the flat, than us," I said grimly. "Anyway I was thinking of redecorating, I am sure that Sandy would prefer new stuff in here when she moves in... "

"I'm moving in?" Sandy squealed with delight.

"If we survive this thing," I murmured to myself.

"OK lovers and others, please go take Roger for a walk, I need to do this alone," Maria announced. "I don't work well with an audience."

She had hardly finished speaking when Roger headed straight for his collar and lead, his back legs lifting off the floor at every upward stroke of the whirling propeller he thinks is his a tail.

"How did you teach that dog to understand English?" Henry looked at the mutt in wonder.

"I don't know about the English part, but there are three words he definitely understands: Roger, biscuit and walk," I reassured him. Roger proved me right by jumping up and grabbing hold of the lead with his blubbery mouth and tearing the nail it had been hanging onto straight off the wall.

The four of us went for a long walk around the harbour. On the way back we stopped at Roger's favourite shop – the butcher. I bought Roger some brisket bones and gave him one to hold in his chops all the way home. He trotted proudly in front of us like he was some kind of dwarf Spanish stallion.

Maria was sitting on the balcony nursing a coke by the time we were back.

"All done?" I asked

"All done," she nodded.

"And now what?" Asked Steve.

"We go visit my parents and the kids," I answered.

"Why now?" Sandy asked.

"Why? To give Robyn's minions time to find the flash drive of course," I answered brightly and smiled.

"I will be getting back home," Henry said. "It's almost time to pick Frankie up from school. I don't think you need me for a while, right?"

"Sure Henry, and thanks for your help. We'll keep you in the loop. Cheers Mate," I said shaking his hand and patting him on the back. After shaking Steve's hand and kissing the girls on their cheeks, Henry left to go pick up the centre of his life, even though he had more than two hours to spare. Careful man and a little paranoid, our Henry was, but who could blame him?

We were in the process of piling into Doris II, when my mobile barked at me. I saw that the number was 'private' and I knew who it was right away.

"For fuck sake, Robyn!" I barked into it.

"I want that flash drive, Louie... or else," she said in her quiet tone, her most threatening tone.

"Look Robyn, I don't have it... it was all a ruse to reel Hertz in, it never existed," I knew that the truth was the one thing that she would not believe – the truth was as foreign to her as an alien from outer space.

"This is my last warning, Louie. Then... then I'll be on you like a ton of shit and you and your stupid friends will drown in it!" She said and hung up.

I smiled at the others. "She's taken the bait. I guess that a platoon of her spooks is on the way here, as we speak!" I said happily.

"Oh Jesus!" Steve grimaced, "and so it starts... again!"

# Chapter 28

Because I had called ahead to warn my family of our visit, the whole gang was there to greet us. More kissing and hugging took place on our arrival that has happened in Australia this century. Once the wolf pride-like greetings were over, Mum took hold of Sandy and led her to the kitchen where she was to receive without doubt an accelerated course on how to cook for the Breccia alpha-male well-being.

My brothers collared 'Stefanino' into another ubiquitous game of soccer; while Dad took Maria's hand and led her, to the lounge room to watch some Discovery Channel show, both being adamant fans of Sir Richard's work.

Me and the kids played with Roger (don't worry, we had not left him behind for Robyn to kill) and the tribe of dogs my family keeps on the farm, which doubles as a veterinary hospital. My father is one of the most respected and sought after Vets in Dural.

The afternoon went, and then dinner time was that paradigm shifting event that is typical of my Mum's cooking. Sandy was very pleased as she had learned to make 'Cotolette al Marsala' - one of Mum's easier dishes. It met with approval and compliments from all at the table.

After the obligatory poker game, which in the past had always been won by Steve. To everyone's surprise, especially Steve's, Sandy came away with most of the money. We drove back to the city. About half way there I asked Sandy to make a call on my mobile for me.

"Sure thing, Louie," She agreed. "Who would you like me to call, another girl friend, perhaps? Fancy a threesome?"

"You are kidding, right? I can hardly manage to satisfy just your wanton needs, you want to kill me?" I answered. "No, I would like you to call the Hotel of your choice and book us a room." I then turned to Steve and Maria. "What about you guys are you going home or will you be staying at the hotel with us?"

"We'll go ho..." Maria started to say, but Steve interrupted her, "I think we'll join you."

"Make that two rooms, Sandy, preferably adjoining."

"But why Louie? Why aren't we going back to your flat?"

"I think we'd better leave that exciting experience for the light of day," Steve piped-in from the back, reading my mind.

"I see. You think that your flat has already been tossed by Robyn's merry men, right?"

"You can bet on it"

"What about Roger?"

"We'll sneak him in."

And so we ended up spending the night in luxury at the Star City Hotel. In the morning we had breakfast sent up to our rooms and relaxed until it was time to check out. On the way to the front desk we were stopped by a member of the hotel's staff. "I am sorry sir, but animals are not allowed in the hotel"

"That's OK," I reassured him. "We are just leaving, Roger did not like the toilet facilities in this dump, anyway!" We left him there with his mouth open as we descended to the Parking Levels.

To say that my flat had been tossed would have been the understatement of the year. It was a real mess – bits and pieces of the furniture, books, Cd's, plants, clothes, food were scattered everywhere: Cyclone Robyn had been here and done maximum damage.

"Oh my God!" Was all that Sandy could say, hands on her face in a mixture of amazement and fright.

"It's almost an improvement," Steve commented dryly.

"Go look if they found it, Maria," I said. She returned a few minutes later.

"It's still there," she announced with pride.

"Shit!" I exclaimed with disappointment. "Those idiots could not find their noses with a torch and a mirror!"

Right at that moment the front door lock turned and Robyn and four of her goons walked into my flat. The goons had guns fitted with silencers in their hands and did not look happy.

"You have a key to my flat?" I asked in amazement.

"That's a pretty stupid question, even for you Louie," the grandmotherly looking, well dressed lady known as Robyn said with a smirk on her lips. "Now hand over the USB before I get serious."

"This," I said sweeping the room with my arm. "Was you, not being serious?"

"It's only furniture, Louie. I can do much worse, to you or maybe to your new girlfriend? Have you told her yet that you murdered her father? And what happened to Hertz?"

"You fucking bitch!" Steve hissed at her and one of her goons hit him on the head with his gun.

Bad mistake.

People are always underestimating Steve's physical abilities. They see a lanky easy going country boy, with slow flowing movements and take him as a pushover. They also badly misjudge his reach and his speed.

There was blur of movement and loud crunch and the goon was on the floor unconscious, his jaw obviously broken. The others were so taken back that they just stood there and watched their colleague bleed all over my carpet. Finally the penny dropped and they started to raise their guns in Steve's direction, but too slow, much too slow.

Before they had even started moving, I had Robyn's thin neck in my hands.

"Stop!" I shouted. "If any of you moves a muscle I'll snap her scrawny neck like a dry twig!"

They stopped.

"Drop your guns!" I said, and because they were idiots, they dropped them. Maria had them scooped up almost before they had hit the floor. I squeezed Robyn's neck just a little. "And you, you evil witch... what are you going to do now, uh?" Her ice clear beady eyes bled pure hatred.

"Move to the corner and sit down on your hands!" Steve snapped at the goons waving in their faces one of the guns that Maria had handed to him. They meekly did as they had been instructed.

"This time you have gone too far, Louie!" She rasped.

"Hey bitch, I have your reptilian neck in my hands and it's a millimetre from going snap... I'd watch it with the threats if I were you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Be logical, Robyn. We found you in my apartment wrecking it up, one of your men assaulted a decorated police officer, you did not identify yourselves... there is not a jury in the land that would convict us. You are even holding a key to my flat, without my prior knowledge. Break and enter, assault with a deadly weapon fitted with illegal silencing equipment... what do you reckon? Bitch, uh?"

"We were not here when you arrived," she protested, losing some of her bravado.

"Really? I have three witnesses here that say you were. And that you attacked Steve after he properly identified himself as a police officer. You are properly fucked, dearie!" I smiled.

"Properly fucked!" Steve agreed.

"Fucked," Maria added. Sandy just nodded in support.

"I could let you go, dearie... but you have not a grain of decency in you, and you don't know the meaning of gratitude. We would all be back just where we started five minutes ago, except next time you would bring twenty goons. Sorry, Robyn... I can't see a way out of this problem at all, apart from saying goodbye forever, dearie," I whispered softly at her. "Unless... "

"Unless what Louie, please Louie don't do this," she pleaded. It was nice to hear her plead for once in her miserable life.

"Unless you tell me all about Hertz, dear Robyn"

"I don't know what you mean, please Louie."

"Oops I can feel that neck snapping..." I warned softly and increased pressure on my hold. I could feel her start to tremble, her eyes reflected the desperation she must be feeling. I gave it a little more pressure.

"Alright, alright Louie... stop. I'll tell you what you want to know."

"I knew you could be reasonable dear Robyn. If you put your evil mind to it," I said and pushed her away from me and onto the floor. Sandy was staring at me, I did not like the look in her eyes.

"The boy sure has his moments," Steve commented. "Don't worry Sandy, he is really just a pussycat."

"Actually, I was wondering why she is still talking," Sandy said.

I put the fixed look on Sandy's face to the back of my mind and focused on what we had to do next.

"Maria, in the kitchen there should be some conduit tape, if these morons did not cut it all up. Can you fetch it please? Sandy, can you go downstairs and get Sergio to bring up lots of coffee, five chairs and his camcorder and a new tape? Make sure that only Sergio comes up. Steve, we had better search these arseholes and make sure that they have no little surprises for us."

While Maria and Sandy got busy Steve held a gun trained on the goons and on Robyn. I searched each one in turn. We recovered no ID's but plenty of other weapons: more guns, knifes, knuckle-dusters, and even some suspicious looking powders and tablets. They had come armed for bear! It sort of made me feel good, in a sick way.

Maria returned with a roll of tape and we taped up the hands, feet and mouth of each goon. We also taped Robyn's feet and hands, but left her mouth untouched as she had a lot of talking to do. Sandy returned with a tray of four coffees. She was followed by Sergio carrying five chairs all nested up in one handy package.

His eyes widened when he saw the state my flat, he looked down at our prisoners with disdain, then up at me, handed me the Camcorder, a tape still in its wrapper and a tripod.

"You need anything else Louie?"

"Thanks for the tripod I should have thought of it, we are right now Sergio, and thanks," I said. I knew that I did not have to ask him to keep quiet about what he had seen. He was a faithful friend who had seen much worse in the war and at the hands of the Mafia or... the Camorra, as it is known in his native Naples.

I lifted Robyn into one of the chairs, sat her up and taped her arms so that she could not raise them. I then focused the camera on her face and shoulders alone.

We pulled our chairs in a semicircle around Robyn.

"Start talking, Robyn." I said and pushed the record button on the camcorder.

"What do you want to know?" She whispered.

"Was Hertz AKA John Smith working for you in his search for the formula?" Steve asked, and from then on I left the interrogation up to him. "And please speak up, we want to make sure it's all on tape."

"Yes," Robyn answered, the fight had gone from her.

"Did you sanction the kidnapping of the DR. Reece and Mrs. Reece?"

"Yes."

"Did you instruct him to torture and kill them?"

"No, I just told him to get the information from them."

"But you knew what kind of man he was, didn't you?"

"I guess so."

"Did you or didn't you know of Hertz's methods, from past experience?"

"Yes."

"Did you, at any time, inform the police as to the perpetrator of that vicious crime?"

"No, I did not."

"Did you sanction the kidnapping, torture and murder of Harrison and Richards?"

"Not in so many words. I told Hertz to just get the formula by whatever means."

"Did you, at any time, inform the police about Hertz's actions in these crimes?"

"No, I did not."

"Did you know who was responsible for the death of my partner, Detective Sargent Mike Cheng?"

"Yes, Hertz reported the incident as unavoidable."

"Did you, at any time, report this confession to the police?"

"No. I did not."

"Did you sanction the kidnapping of Dr. Reece's children in order to extract the flash drive that Hertz was led to believe contained the PZ-76 formula?"

"Yes, I did."

"At the time what was your understanding of the actions that Hertz would take after receiving the flash drive from me?" I intervened.

"Er... I don't understand the question."

I did not have to say anything I just started to get up from my chair. She flinched. "Alright I thought that he would probably kill all three, happy?" She finally admitted.

"Do you repent being instrumental in all of these hideous crimes you have admitted to?"

"I work for my Country, nothing can stand in the way of that. My country comes first, always."

"Even the death of two innocent children?" Steve asked.

She did not answer.

"Even the death of two innocent children?" Steve repeated his tone becoming harsh, demanding.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Speak up!"

"Yes, yes... yes!" And she finally broke down into tears. I almost felt sorry for her.

"Please state your name and rank and the name of the Agency you work for." Steve asked relentlessly.

"Commander Robyn Digs, Australian Intelligence Agency"

"Who is your superior?"

"I have no superior," she stated smugly.

"Who do you report to?"

"No one in particular. I write reports and then forward them onward. Where they go is none of my business."

I could see that she was not going to tell us who told her what to do, if anyone. So, I stopped the recording.

"Anything else Louie?" Steve asked turning in my direction.

"Yes there is. I want everyone here to be clear on what her intentions were for us, today."

"Why did you come here today with four of your operatives armed with silenced weapons?" Steve asked her. She looked up and searched for my eyes, hate poured her out of them like a waterfall.

"I wanted to make sure you were finally and once and for all dead, Louie. Dead, dead, dead!" She spat out the last three words with relish as if she could almost taste them.

"You horrible woman!" Sandy exclaimed with disgust, "Louie should have snapped your neck!"

"Well, Robyn, you certainly know how to make friends and influence people," Maria commented.

"What are we going to do with her now?" Steve asked.

"Let her go of course!" I said brightly.

A stunned silence followed once more.

"Don't worry, I have not gone insane. I will explain later. Just trust me for now," I whispered to my friends reassuringly. They still stared at me as if I was out of my mind

Using one of their own knives I cut all the tape that bound their hands and legs.

"Get out of here, before we change our minds," I ordered.

"What about our guns?" One of the idiots asked,

"Piss off moron, how stupid do you think we are. Get the fuck out... now!" Steve said

The five of them filed out of my wrecked apartment, rather more dejectedly than when they had come in. Once the door was closed Steve looked at me and said.

"It ain't over, you know that, right?"

"It ain't over," I agreed. "But we do have her confession on tape."

# Chapter 29

"If it isn't over, why did you let her go?" Sandy demanded angrily and not just a little frightened.

"Because Robyn always follows orders and because she confessed all too easily, she knows that she is protected whatever happens. She is a puppet, we need to get to the puppeteer. Or it will never be over," I explained.

"Yes, we have to find who really pulls the strings," Steve added wisely.

"How are we going to do that?" Sandy asked.

"First, I think that we should go and check Steve and Maria's flat and see if that has been tossed yet, and Maria... please bring the flash drive."

On our way out I signaled Sergio and he came over. "Thanks for your help, Mate," I said to him.

"Don't mention it Louie."

"Do you know anyone that can clean up upstairs?"

"Sure thing, my cousin Vinnie has a cleaning company. Any bodies?"

"Not this time, Mate," I winked. I think that he was just a little disappointed.

Steve and Maria's flat had not been searched. So Maria once again found a place to hide the flash drive. "Don't make it so hard for them, this time," I suggested, "They might even find it and not wreck everything," I added.

"Now we need a base of operation, we can't stay here. Also things are going to get pretty hairy, Robyn is going to be in a bit of a mood. Any suggestions?" I asked.

"How about my place?" Sandy suggested.

"No Sandy, I would not like to endanger your Mum and your daughter, even though I am really looking forward to meeting them."

"We have to search both Dr. Reece's factory and home, why not operate from his house? I am sure the kids will not mind, it's theirs now," Maria suggested.

"Brilliant, Maria," Steve beamed.

"I like it. OK you guys you pack what you don't want the morons to destroy. We will wait until you have packed and are on your way and then we'll meet you there in about an hour. Sandy and I have some shopping to do as we do not have anything left to pack. Can Roger stay with you?"

"Of course, but why not leave now?" Steve said.

"We don't really know how long before Robyn sends more goons, not very long I suspect. I feel better if we are here with you should they come too early, four guns are better than two."

"We'll be ten minutes tops. Maria was in the US Navy and everything is always ready to go. A habit of a life time."

Nine minutes was all it took, and Sandy and I were back into our car in eleven. We waved Steve, Maria and Roger as they drove off in Steve's Police unmarked and then we headed for the shops, where the tough get going.

"You lead an exciting life, Louie," Sandy remarked as we strapped in.

"It's not always like this... sometimes it even gets a bit hairy... " I smiled. "But, you did not buy-in for this sort of crap, Sandy. Is it too much for you? You want out?"

"I should shoot you in the foot for even thinking that Louie! I am with you for keeps, you don't get rid of me that easily... besides your Mum would be really disappointed in me."

"I was hoping you would say that," I smiled at her and she kissed me. "Careful! I might have an accident," I said swerving the car a fraction.

"And scratch Doris? That won't happen on this planet," And she kissed me again. Doris drove straight and true, not even jealous one little bit.

"Where do we go shopping?" I asked once we came up for some air.

"Parklea Markets, lots of people... safety in numbers. And they sell just about everything we need in one place," She said. I liked her thinking, she was getting into the groove of things. She was definitely going to be part of the group.

"Good thinking, 99!" I said.

"OH, Max..." She intoned.

Definitely part of our group!

# Chapter 30

Parklea is located about 40 kilometres north-west of the Sydney CBD, it was named in the early 1900s probably after Parklea in Renfrewshire, Scotland. Parklea is well known for two reasons: Parklea Markets - where we were heading to now; and the Parklea Correctional Centre - a privately managed maximum and minimum security prison for males. The prison officially opened 1985. Strangely, the first inmates were received in as early as 1983 - they must have been housed in tents!

It was brilliant of Sandy to suggest Parklea Markets, it's where you find stalls for clothes, toys, tools, kitchenware, camping / fishing goods, cosmetics, jewelry, fresh flowers, fresh food, cigarettes, computer software, souvenirs, car accessories, plants and pets - definitely, one-stop shopping.

The 40 minute drive also gave me time to think, and I had a lot of thinking to do if we were going to survive Robyn's next attack. I knew one thing, it was essential that we find that formula and publish it on the net before they got to us. Once it was published we would only have Robyn's revenge to look out for.

But I suspected that at that stage she would lose the support of her master. Her confession, even though it had been obtained under duress and would be unusable in court, would still finish her off with the agency she now controlled. People did not retire from her type of job, not with all she had done. Her employment would be terminated, with 'extreme prejudice' as the Yanks like to say.

I decided that we would start looking through Dr. Reece's house first, as we would be living there anyway, for the next couple of days.

But, nothing is ever easy. Just as I was coming to that conclusion my phone barked. I really had to change that ring tone; it was driving me mad. I saw that it was Steve calling.

"Yes, Mate" I said.

"Bad news Partner," he said.

"What now?" I said.

"We should have know..."

"What?"

"Reece's house looks worse than your flat."

"They tossed it?"

"They tossed it."

"Damn! Anywhere for us to hanker down for a couple of days?"

"We'll clear up a couple of rooms, but you better get four sleeping bags, some blow-up mattresses and some food, coffee, drinks etc... at least the fridge still works."

"OK, no worries, we'll be there in about two hours. We decided to go to Parklea. You two take care, stay alert please."

"You got it," he reassured me and hung up. I answered Sandy's questioning look with a short version of Steve's report, which was practically word for word as Steve never elaborates much, if any.

The shopping was fun. For a little while we forgot about all the crap that was going on and just enjoyed trying stuff on - well Sandy tried stuff on, and I enjoyed looking at her. Me, after I got a pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts and some underwear I was done. Her, it look a little longer.

The camping outlet was able to supply our 'camping' needs and we were done at Parklea. On the way to Dover Heights we stopped at a liquor outlet and grabbed a bottle of JD and some Coke.

Roger's bark welcomed us home when we finally joined Steve and Maria at Reece's mansion – it was a real mess and I agreed with Steve it did look a lot worse than my flat. My flat hadn't been much in the first place; but the Reece's home had been filled with top grade stuff, which was now just a lot of very expensive kindle.

Steve and Maria had been busy and two bedrooms were clean and completely clear of junk. The large kitchen was also just about usable, fortunately, it had a breakfast nook made of heavy hardwood, which the morons had not been able damage greatly, and so we had a place to sit down, have a drink and plan something.

"We gotta find that formula," I stated the obvious problem, once we were all a bit relaxed and had greedily swallowed our first drink in silence. "Any brilliant ideas?" I asked. They all looked at me as if I had asked for the meaning of life.

"Yeah, me too," I nodded and had another drink. After a while, Maria said.

"One thing we haven't explained yet, is Dr. Reece's cryptic 'R' message."

"R message?" Sandy asked. We let Maria give her the sordid details of when and where we'd found that message. "At first we thought that it stood for Richards, his lawyer, but that turned out to be wrong. Then we thought that it might be pointing to Robyn, but it's hard to see a connection between Dr. Reece and Robyn. Now we have no idea," she finished.

"It must be the key. It must be a message to someone that would know what it meant but would be meaningless to anyone else," Sandy said.

"Someone they could trust absolutely," Steve added.

"Yes, but who?" Asked Maria.

"Colleagues, friends, family..." Sandy suggested.

"The kids!" Both Steve and I jumped up excitedly. I had my mobile out and the speed dial pressed.

"Luigi!" my Father's deep voice welcomed me on the other side of the phone. "How are you?"

"Tell you all about it later, Dad. Are the kids up? Dad?"

"Your mother is just tucking them in and I was looking for a good story to read to them, why Louie?"

"I need to speak to Carly, Dad. Unfortunately, I need to ask her a couple of questions which may upset her, please can you and Mum stay close by?"

"Do you really have to, Louie?" The old man asked, pain starting to show in his voice.

"Yes Dad, you know that I wouldn't do it if it wasn't really necessary."

"I know Louie... hang on while I get Carly and your mother," he was gone for a while. I guessed that most of that time he spent trying to convince Mum. Finally, I heard Carly's soft and sweet voice on the phone.

"Uncle Louie?"

"Hello, Carly are you well?"

"I am very well Uncle Louie, thanks. I love it here."

"I am so glad, Sweetie... err... I have to ask you a couple of questions, Carly, which may hurt a bit, OK?"

"OK Uncle Louie, Papa told me... I'll be strong, Uncle Louie, I promise."

"I know that you are a very brave girl. Carly, does the letter R have any special meaning for you and your Dad?" I got it out quickly and held my breath. She was quiet for a little while and I could hear just a small sob that she had not been able to hold back.

"Yes Uncle Louie," she finally spoke up. But her voice was a whisper and cracked in places with emotion. "R was our special place. Dad used to call it the R and R place but just one R would be enough for us to know what he meant."

"Where was R, Carly?" I choked.

"It's our playground in the back yard. Dad used to say 'let's go for some R's and we would all go outside and play on the swings, the fort, and the slippery dip till dark. And after Dad had the flood lights installed we could play even till eight. One time we played till nine!"

"Thank you, Carly, so sorry if I have upset you, darling."

"It's alright Uncle Louie, Mama and Papa are here and hugging me. I'll be OK."

"I know you will, Carly. Good night sweetie," but I knew that I had spoiled the night for her.

"Good night, Uncle Louie. Do you want to speak to Papa?"

"Yes thanks, sweetie. I love you Carly"

"I love you too, Uncle Louie," there was some muffled sounds and then my father was back on the phone. He wasn't happy.

"I don't want to go through that ever again," he warned. I have only heard that tone in his voice once or twice before in my life and it wasn't good.

"Don't worry about that, Dad. It felt pretty bad from here too."

"I know that son, good night then." His voice had softened to his usual good baritone.

"Good night, Dad."

I hung up and looked up to my friends, they were all waiting with opened mouths. I had the sudden whim of playing a joke on them, teasing them for a while. But really it was no joking matter.

"The playground at the back," I said. "Let's go take a look."

"It's dark outside," Sandy reminded us.

"Carly mentioned something about flood lights," I said.

The back yard was blacker than black, there was no moon. Then it lit up and it was like daytime.

"I found the lights!" Steve shouted.

"Yep, you sure did," I shouted back. Then I looked at Maria.

"OK, where would you hide it?"

She looked thoughtful for a few seconds.

"Reece was a pretty smart guy, right? So the obvious places are out. Real sneaky places are out too, as he might expect that an experienced search team would look there as well... so... like Sandy said, 'in plain sight' is the most likely."

She hesitated for a moment or two and then walked around the playground, once twice, stopped, considered, shook her head, continued her circling, this went on for more than an hour. Finally, she stopped and her face brightened.

She'd found it!

She smiled up at us and winked. Then she pointed with a brief movement of her head at what she was looking at.

# Chapter 31

It was just a sign displaying some straightforward safety rules for the kids:

"So?" Was Steve's reaction. "Is it written behind the sign?"

"I don't think so," answered Maria, shaking her head.

"Is it in code or something?" Asked Sandy.

"No I don't think so."

"So, where is it?" Steve's voice was becoming impatient.

"Care to have a go, Louie?" Maria asked with a caricature of an evil smile on her face.

"Well," I started. "The only thing that jumps out at me is the full-stop"

"A full-stop? A tiny-full stop jumps out at you? I can't even see one, there aren't any," Steve said now annoyed.

"Yes... One, at the end of the fourth point," I pointed to it.

"Well done Louie!" Maria clapped me on the back.

"So?" Sandy asked.

"A microdot is what Maria is thinking, I think..."

Before Maria could answer we heard Roger's furious bark. We had visitors and he did not like them.

"Quickly inside, all of you. Leave it there for now," I barked in turn, pushing the girls toward the back door.

Once we had the back door secured, we went toward the front door where someone was now knocking quite loudly.

"It couldn't be Robyn, already, surely," Maria asked half suspecting that it might be. Her question was answered by the visitor, knocking again quite loudly and shouting.

"Police! Open up!"

"I guess you better take this, Steve," I said. "But be careful it maybe a trick."

He nodded and got his badge out with one hand and his gun with the other, the latter he positioned behind his back. I got my gun out as well and I stood beside him where I could open the door or shoot right through it if necessary. Maria was positioned in the doorway that led from the hallway to the lounge room, her gun out too. Sandy hugged close to her back and her cute face was just poking out, eyes wide open. Steve nodded and I opened the door.

"What's all the racket officer?" Steve demanded in a severe tone. I couldn't see him, but it was obvious that the noisy constable was a bit taken back and was momentarily rendered speechless by the turn of events.

"Err... sorry sir," he managed to mumble. "We got a report of a break-in by one of the neighbours."

I watched Steve insert his gun into the back of his jeans and put away his badge.

"No worries officer, just doing your job."

"Yes sir," the relief was audible in the officer's voice.

"However, officer, next time you have an intruder alert it seems pointless to me to bash at the door... did you expect that the robber would actually open the door for you? Let you in and maybe, offer you a cuppa and biscuits just before extending their hands to be handcuffed?"

"Err... no sir... I mean right sir... sorry sir. "

"Right keep it mind, next time try to sneak up on any intruders OK?"

"Yes sir!"

"OK report back to the radio operator that there were no intruders but that Detective Inspector Lucas was on site carrying out a special investigation, right?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

"No worries officer and good night."

"Good night sir."

I closed the door and we all smiled with relief.

"I really need a drink!" Sandy said and headed for the kitchen. We followed her example to the letter.

"What now?" Maria asked after we had calmed our poor frayed nerves.

"I'll ring Henry in the morning and see what he can do with what we found, meanwhile I reckon that we should go to bed and get a good night sleep, we've earned it today and we will need it tomorrow," I suggested.

"I am in for that," Steve agreed while stretching his lank body until we could almost hear his backbone snap, crackle and pop.

"Roger will alert us if anyone comes calling during the night."

"Sleep tight." I said, and Sandy and I retired to our room.

"You really want to blow up that mattress right now?" Sandy asked sleepily.

"The thick carpet is good for me if it's good for you," I said stretching out.

"Mmm good..." She murmured as she cuddled up to me, head on my chest. I am not sure who fell asleep first.

Even though I had been dead tired I woke up at two thirty the next morning, a bit stiff and sore from the hard floor. I kissed Sandy on her lips, to which she murmured something, but her smile was evidence of a pleasant semi-awake dream. I got up, visited the bathroom, had a shower and then headed for the kitchen to make that first cup of coffee and enjoy the first smoke of the day.

Steve was not long in joining me, fresh from a shower as well, "Couldn't sleep either? Is that coffee I smell?" He asked as the Mocca contraption bubbled and gurgled.

"Sure is and my cup is right there," I nodded toward the bench.

"Yes sir!" He saluted but when he joined me in the kitchen nook he had two cups of steaming coffee and soon helped himself to one of my smokes.

"Haven't you given up?" I asked.

"I need it today."

"Robyn will do that to ya." I nodded.

"That and more. Tell me again, why you did not wring that bitch's neck when you had the chance?"

"Who me? Kill a harmless old lady?" I joked. "Believe me it was so, so tempting."

"I believe you."

We smoked and drank our coffee for a while in silence, when my phone barked.

"Hi. Are you busy?" Henry's voice was easily recognizable as mine was to him.

"Not really."

"Right, could you all come over?"

"Sure, Henry. Trouble?"

"No everything is all right, Steve, see you soon," And he hung up.

I looked at Steve.

"What's wrong?" He knew right away.

"He called me Steve!"

"Shit!" He swore and slammed his fist on the table. "She must be right there with him. They probably got Frankie. Bitch, bitch, bitch!"

"What's all the commotion?" Maria asked as she entered the room on a run, closely followed by Sandy.

"They are at Henry's. Wouldn't be surprised if the bitch is making him decode the flash drive, which unknown to her, he coded in the first place! And that... is the trap she has set for us to walk into," Steve explained.

"This is not going the way I had planned," I said

"You should have killed her," Maria said to me.

"She would have been quickly replaced, just like an injured player on a football field is replaced, and we would still have the same problem. At least with Robyn, we know how she thinks. Anyway, too late now. What we need to do right now is get to Henry's pronto. Sorry, you girls don't get a shower. But Maria please get the microdot first."

"If you don't mind - we don't mind. I am ready to go," Sandy spoke for the first time.

"To the Batmobile Robin!" I shouted heading toward the front door.

"Don't mention that fucking name!" Steve grunted back. "Anyway, leave the Batmobile here, we'll take mine - it has a siren."

We piled up into the police issue V8 Ford – Steve driving, me riding shotgun, girls and Roger in the back. We were off in flurry of squealing tires, screaming siren and flashing lights - a blur of movement and stink.

I don't know if Steve set any land-speed records that day but we sure got to Castle Hill very quickly. A few blocks from Henry's house Steve turned off the Christmas lights and the siren. "How do you want to handle this?"

"Like we always do," I answered.

"Right," he said.

"Oh, oh this doesn't sound good," Maria said from the back seat.

"You girls stay in the car and watch our backs, this will take only a few minutes... one way or the other," Steve said as he coasted the big V8 to a silent stop right in front of Henry's house.

"Don't be like that... we'll be all right," I said.

"We always are," he repeated our mantra

We got out of the car, guns pointing downward and hugging our legs. Steve is left handed, whereas I am not, so that we had both sides and front covered. We left the girls to look after our backs. We walked right up the front door and knocked. I kept an eye on the spy hole on the door, as soon as it darkened, showing that someone was taking a look through it, I raised my gun and shot them in the eye. There was no way on Earth that Henry would ever have been that retarded.

At the same time Steve shot the lock on the door and we were inside before the idiot had even hit the floor. Just then, another moron came out into the corridor and Steve and I shot him at the same time

"Mine," I said.

"In your dreams," Steve answered

We entered Henry's lounge room and there they were: Henry sitting next to Robyn, two of Robyn's operatives AKA morons had their guns pointed at Henry. Robyn had a triumphant smile on her ugly lips. She had Henry's son, Frankie, on the floor beside her and was holding a gun to his head. The boy's big eyes were filled with terror.

That did it for me; the bitch was going to die today!

The two operatives switched their attention to us and their guns followed suit.

Big mistake!

"I knew you would come to the rescue, Louie," She boasted. "You just cannot help yourself, Mr. Goodie-goodie!" And then we heard an awful screech that she reckoned as laughter.

"Yes Robyn I knew you knew, so what do you think is going to happen next? Bitch."

"You are going to drop your guns, that's what, and then I'm going to get that formula."

"Why didn't we think of that, Steve?" I asked my partner.

"Just plain stupid, I guess," he answered with a leer.

"And what are you going to do next, Robyn?"

"You'll see, but you will not like it."

"I bet I won't, Robyn. But I meant what are you going to do to Frankie and my friends?"

"They should get what they deserve, but I will let them go unharmed, of course," she spat out.

"You believe that, Steve?" I asked.

"Sure thing, Louie... you know Robyn - nothing but the truth."

"And she wouldn't kill innocent people and children, either, right?"

"Right... unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless it's... err... how did she put it? Oh yes: necessary."

"But most are innocent, Robyn."

She said nothing.

"Necessary so that you and your master can get away Scott-free? And maybe make a few billions in the process?"

She said nothing.

"So who is this protector that allowed you to go on with this evil quest in spite of the confession?" I continued.

"Confession, what a crock of shit! You are way out of your league, Louie. But, since you are going to die very soon, I will tell you, Louie. It's..."

"Shut up, Robyn!" Came a commanding voice said from the doorway. I knew that voice, I turned around and there was George Hawthorne, the senior partner from Richard's firm. He was standing in the doorway complete in his dark blue suite white shirt and blue tie, just as if he had just walked into a court room.

It explained a lot. I always wondered how Hertz had found out about the very secret formula. It was now obvious: to his great detriment Richards had confided the information to his senior partner, he looked good, but he was not happy.

"A lawyer? He is your Ace? Don't make me laugh Robyn."

"Not just a lawyer," Henry finally spoke up. "His brother is the Minister of Defense, the Honorable John Hawthorne."

And then Robyn cackled again. the sound of it would be enough to give me nightmares for years to come.

I turned to the lawyer and said. "So, your brother is really behind this, right?"

He ignored the question and directed his gaze to Robyn, "Finish it now, or else!" He said harshly, turned around and walked away.

"So, you are going to kill us all on the say so of a lawyer and a politician. What a joke. You are crazier than I thought, Robyn."

"Yes! I am going to kill you!" she shouted back harshly, raising her pistol. Finally I had arrived where I had been going all along. Henry did not need a prompt.

In a blur of movement that came as habit from his years of training in the Special Forces. He swiveled his body and I think I saw his hands go to Robyn's head, but I couldn't be sure - the whole thing was just too fast to be visible. There was a clearly audible "crack!" and Robyn slid down the lounge as if suddenly turned to jelly - he had snapped her neck like that of a chicken's.

I lifted my left hand palm up, to reassure the morons that everything was OK and then shot one of them twice in the chest. Steve did not need an invitation either – he took care of the remaining operative. I quickly stepped outside, but Maria had already sent the old solicitor to the court room in the sky, and then, there were no more baddies! Just us goodies.

Only one more to go... but that would have to wait.

Henry rushed to his son's side and hugged him furiously. Reassuring him that it was all OK. It was over, that he was safe.

"I'm going to miss her," I said to Steve

"Yep, me too, like cancer."

"Worse."

I turned to look at Sandy.

"Did you record all that?"

"Every word." she said and smiled brightly. She looked around, at the bodies on the floor. "And that's what your call: 'like we always do'? You two are insane!"

"Thatza ma' boys!" Maria agreed with a leer.

"And Louie didn't even get shot or knifed once!" Steve added in wonder.

"Itza a miracle!"

But it was Roger who performed the miracle. He rushed to Frankie's side and covered him with licks and grunts, his little butt becoming airborne again and again as the propeller wagged at full speed behind him. It was not long before he had a smile back on Frankie's face.

Sometime later, we left the boy and the dog to play and cuddle and do what boys and dogs have always done. Maria gave Henry the microdot. He had no problem extracting the data from it and a few seconds after that, the whole of the Internet had the formula.

While Henry worked at spreading the good news, we could hear in the background Frankie and Roger still playing: Frankie's giggles and Roger's "grummffs". After a while we noticed that all was quiet in the lounge room. Henry got up from his computer chair concerned about his son. There they were, cuddled up and asleep on the lounge: boy and beast, a friendship that could only have been made in Heaven. I looked at Henry.

"Looks like you have got yourself a dog, a helper, and a friend, Mate. I know old Roger, and he is a sucker for those that need his company, he will not want to come back with me... not until Frankie is a feeling a lot better, if ever"

"Thanks Louie, I seem to be thanking you all the time."

"No need, Mate. I am sorry that I put you and Frankie in harm's way. I certainly did not plan on it. I should thank you, the world should thank you – it's a much better place now."

"Come on Louie," Steve touched me on the shoulder. "We have a little bit of cleaning up to do."

"Take out the rubbish, you mean?"

"Exactly."

"I think that Robyn and Hertz will make a nice couple, don't you?"

"Like peas in a pod."

"Like peas in a pod - it Hertz me to admit" I agreed. They groaned as one.

# EPILOGUE

  1. Some newspaper headlines from Sandy's scrapbook:

A small notice placed under 'engagements' in a recent newspaper.

Dr. Anthony and Mrs. Margherita Breccia are pleased to announce the forthcoming engagement of their son Dr. Luigi Breccia to Miss Sandra Keats. Luigi and Sandra will be married in a double wedding ceremony with their best friends Detective Inspector Hugo Steven Lucas and Captain Maria Wolf at a date TBA in the coming year. All the very best to the happy couples!

The End

PS – Watch for Louie and Steve's third world saving adventure, coming your way soonish!

Love, AF 

