Color of Blood(78)

“Phillip? Dennis, please!”

“He’s probably into this group in a big way—maybe he’s borrowed money from them or who knows what. But once that big cache of drugs was discovered on the freighter and you arrested Wu at the airport, all hell broke loose. Voorster is their leader, or one of their leaders. He leaned on Phillip to help them stop these seizures. It’s costing too much money for them not to do something radical. They need a snitch inside the AFP to tip them off in the future, and Phillip probably volunteered you.”

“Stop, Dennis; this is silly.”

“Think about it. He’s desperate, and he sees you as weak, susceptible to pressure. Phillip tells them that the one thing that would turn you upside down is a threat to Simon. He knows that, but he also knows they’d never really do anything to Simon—or he convinces himself that’s the case.”

Judy turned to look at Dennis. She could see his eyes shining like wet marbles, a street lamp the only illumination.

“Now, the only way they can stop you from going to Miller, or anyone else in the AFP, is to convince you that they have a snitch inside. So they concoct a scheme to scare your parents, knowing you’ll turn around and raise hell back at the AFP, which you did.”

“Go on,” she said.

“And Phillip dutifully keeps calling around the office—like he always does—waiting for someone to tip him off to the AFP response. I mean, if they knew that you were going to raise hell about your parents, they must have also known that the AFP would respond in a big way. Voorster was going to use whatever facts Phillip could pick up from his calls to convince you they had a snitch inside the AFP. You said yourself that when they had you tied up, the only proof they mentioned about a snitch was that there had been a presentation. They didn’t quote your boss or provide any additional details, right?”

“That’s true,” she said, craning her head slightly to see his face in the darkness.

“So Phillip reports back to Voorster about a PowerPoint presentation, which is all they have to go on. Then they grab you from your house. And one more thing, Judy. You thought you heard someone say ‘No’ when this guy cut the tip of your toe off.”

“Yes,” she said. “And let me guess; you think that was Phillip?”

“Yes. He was there. They decided to disguise their voices because Voorster’s accent is distinctive, and maybe they were worried that Phillip would say something stupid, which he did.”

“Why did he yell ‘No’?”

“They must have told him they were just going to scare you about cutting off your finger, which they did. But when they took off your shoe, he realized they were going to hurt you, and he told them to stop.”

For the next five minutes Judy and Dennis sat on the bench, staring at the Indian Ocean on a moonless night. The low marine haze obstructed the horizon, but looking directly up, Dennis could see several bright stars.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me that we need to find out if that international number Phillip called is Voorster’s?” Judy asked.

“Yes. Did you find out if he’s still in the country?”

“He’s renting a private residence in a ritzy suburb not far from here,” she said.

“Then we watch him someplace public and call that international number,” Dennis said. “If we see him answer, and hear his voice, he’s our guy. I can verify it afterward with another call to my friend.”

“No more ‘we,’” Judy said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll do the rest.”

“Don’t you want my help?”

“No, you’ve already done enough. I’ll finish it.”

When Judy dropped Dennis off at the hotel thirty-five minutes later, she said, “Dennis, I don’t know whether to hug you or hit you right now. I’m very confused, and angry with everyone. I’ll call you in the morning. Goodnight.”

Dennis watched her drive quickly out of the entrance, his gaze following her disappearing red taillights.

He went back to his room, undressed, poured himself a dram of Macallan and sat in front of his wall map. He picked up his notepad and began to review his notes and his map.

***

The pearl-white Mercedes E-Class sedan backed out of the driveway and sped off. Two men were in the car, but she could not tell if either was Voorster because of the tinted windows. Immigration records showed he had given this as his address in the Peppermint Grove section. She was well acquainted with tailing methods and had no trouble staying far enough away. She drove a brown Toyota Camry and knew she would not stand out in the ebb and flow of suburban traffic.

The Mercedes traveled across Stirling Highway, down Keane Street toward the Swan River. Near the edge of Manners Hill Park, the car entered the Esplanade, then quickly exited and stopped near a modest outdoor coffee shop. Two men got out and sauntered over to one of the tables with a view of the Swan River basin.

Voorster sat down first and said something to his partner, who left to order at the counter. Judy’s breathing grew shallow as she looked at the man with the short bleach-blond hair. She nervously bit the inside of her lip, over and over.

Grabbing her new disposable mobile phone, she took a piece of paper out of her blouse pocket. When Dennis had shown her the phone numbers at the fish-and-chips shop, Judy had memorized the international number and repeated it to herself so often that by the time she dropped Dennis off, she could recite it backward. When she got home, she wrote it down just the same.