Scrublands(120)

‘Not that we saw. On the contrary: the place looked like he’d just walked out for a minute. There was no note, nothing like that. His dinner was still on the table.’

‘So you think the Reapers killed him?’ asks Martin.

‘Don’t know,’ says Vandenbruk. ‘But we’ll definitely be adding it to the list. Who decided it was suicide, then? Constable Haus-Jones?’

Goffing looks to Martin. ‘I guess so.’

‘Okay. What else can you tell me about the dope operation?’

‘Not a lot; I think that just about covers it,’ says Martin.

‘Good,’ says Vandenbruk, leaning back, appearing to come off the boil for the first time. ‘There’s a couple of things you should know. First, like I told you earlier, Herb Walker didn’t commit suicide; the Reapers killed him after they found him at Jason’s. You need to correct that when the time comes. Second thing, that story you ran in the Sydney Morning Herald, that he had ignored the tip-off about the bodies in the dam, he was outraged. Fucking furious. You know why?’

Martin looks contrite, nods. ‘Jamie Landers told me yesterday. Said it was he and Allen Newkirk who rang Crime Stoppers. But he said they didn’t mention the dam, just said the girls were dead and their bodies dumped in the Scrublands. That’s hundreds of square kilometres.’

‘Correct. And even then, Herb didn’t ignore it. It wasn’t his patch. Scrublands is north-west of Riversend; Bellington is forty minutes south of Riversend. He asked Constable Haus-Jones to check it out.’

‘He told you that?’

‘He did. The day he ended up dead. The day I gave him the phone number Swift had called.’

‘Avery Foster’s number?’

‘That’s right. So, Martin, when you revisit this story, I want you to set the record straight; Herb Walker didn’t suicide and he didn’t neglect his duty.’

Martin agrees, chastened. ‘Of course. It’s the least I can do. But you should know, my colleague, Bethanie Glass, she was told the Crime Stoppers tip-off specifically referred to the dam. It wasn’t us who made him the scapegoat.’

Now there is no temper visible on Vandenbruk’s face, just a steely gaze. ‘Who was her source?’

‘She doesn’t know. It came through police PR. From somewhere high up.’

‘Jesus wept,’ says Vandenbruk, shaking his head in a mixture of disbelief and disgust. ‘They do that to him, shaft him, then when he turns up dead a day or two later, they eulogise him, call him a hero.’ Now the temper is returning, the fuse reset. ‘Well, fuck me, Martin, you make sure you put that in print.’

‘You have my word.’

‘Good,’ says Vandenbruk. ‘Now here’s the deal. I’m going to keep Jack’s little fuck-up out of the investigation—the bit where he got played by Snouch in Canberra. No one needs be the wiser.’

Martin glances at Goffing. The ASIO agent is staring at Vandenbruk, his face white.

‘You know?’ Goffing asks.

‘I worked it out. After I heard the intercepts, I checked out the metadata on Avery Foster’s phone. Just like you did. It was Snouch who called Foster from Russell Hill.’

‘Who else has figured it out?’

‘No one, as far as I’m aware. Why would they? Only a few others know Snouch was the one who fingered Swift, who revealed he was really Julian Flynt, and they all think he was motivated by altruism. Unless they heard the St James intercepts, they’d have no reason to think he was really trying to eliminate Swift and get a bigger share of the drug operation.’

‘That wasn’t what was motivating him,’ interjects Martin, and then realises too late he’s played into the policeman’s hands, essentially confirming that Snouch had indeed conned Goffing. Jack gives him a withering look.

Vandenbruk smiles without warmth and turns to Martin. ‘I’m going to play you the tape from the church and possibly feed you a bit of information on the Reapers, if you need it. But there are things I need in return, guarantees. I don’t want to be mentioned. I don’t want people to know I gave the telephone number to Herb and I don’t want it known that the ACIC tampered with Telstra’s database. Okay?’

Martin says nothing, Goffing says nothing, but Martin can see by the look on the ASIO man’s face they’re both thinking the same thing. He’s arse-covering.

Martin asks, ‘Why did the Commission tamper with the database?’

Another flash of temper and another pause to control it, fuse sputtering. ‘Because we were in the middle of a major intelligence operation, involving hundreds of investigators and years of work. We didn’t want it derailed by a random shooting by a deranged priest. If homicide got wind of it, the whole force would have known, and if the whole force knew then the whole world would know. The operation could have come crashing down.’

Martin sees an opportunity to probe further. ‘Protecting the operation must have seemed pretty important. Your old mate, Herb Walker…He put Byron Swift in a cell after allegations of paedophilia were levelled at him, but someone in Sydney ordered him released. Was that you?’

Vandenbruk is back on his feet, fuse alight, again threatening to explode. The effort to control himself has him hissing his response. ‘No, it fucking well was not. It was someone on the task force, I now know that much, and if I ever find who it was, I’ll break their fucking neck. Now, you want to hear the tapes or not?’