International Relations
Chapter One
Three murders.
Twenty-four assaults, fourteen on the day of a single footy match.
Two frauds – one on the racecourse, one a sordid family feud.
A kidnapping. Victim recovered unharmed, but unlikely to venture abroad without her chauffeur any time soon.
Innumerable petty thefts. Anyone would think Melbourne residents hung their jewellery on the washing line of an evening.
Four. Long. Months.
Come after me, Jack.
"Sir?"
Detective Inspector John Robinson started from his reverie and realised he'd been gazing at the same paragraph of his report for the last twenty minutes. He shook himself, and glanced up from his desk as Senior Constable Collins' head appeared around the office door.
"Yes, Collins?"
"The Commissioner's here and asking if you've got a minute". The words served as a handy bucket of ice cold water over Jack's wayward thoughts. Jumping to his feet, he dodged round the corner of his desk and flung the door wide. One tended to "have a minute" when the most senior officer in the state dropped by.
"Sir, come in, please." He hurriedly pulled out a chair as William Cooper strode into the room, removing his hat and handing it absently to his junior officer. Sitting, he looked up with his usual piercing intensity at the Inspector.
"How are you, Jack? Not seen you since Margaret Challoner's kidnapping. Tidy piece of work, well done."
This in itself was remarkable. While never urbane, Cooper could generally present a sociable enough face in Melbourne's polite society. However, with his men, his delivery was efficient to the point of being clinical. To resort to polite conversation, even with a man who knew himself to be both liked and respected by his boss was … suspicious.
"Thank you, sir," Jack replied diffidently, but forbore to respond to the implied invitation to discuss the case. The Commissioner wasn't in his office to pass the time of day, no matter how politely the conversation had been introduced.
"I'm glad to find you in. How's your caseload just now?" asked Cooper brusquely.
"Mostly tidying up just now, sir", responded Jack. "I've even been speaking to Collins about doing some information work with the some of our higher-risk residents – guidelines on storing valuables, avoiding break-ins, that sort of thing?" He glanced ruefully at the files still awaiting attention. "Some of this could so easily have been avoided with a couple of hints in the right direction." Cooper narrowed his eyes.
"Perhaps so, but hints need to be heard. There are a lot of deaf ears in this city. I may have a better idea."
With a quiet sigh for his hopes of reducing the City South workload just a little, Jack put on his dutifully attentive expression. "Sir?"
"It's a liaison job, and I'm looking for someone who's been working with the dross of the state of Victoria for longer than most." Cooper paused, acknowledging the hit. "You seem to fit the bill." The compliment was backhanded, but fair. Jack's training had been thorough, and often less than salubrious; it was odd how the docks seemed to attract not just healthy international trade but also some very unhealthy activities – from pilfered passenger luggage to full scale drug trafficking.
"The simple fact is we've come to a dead end, and neither Melbourne nor London has anything new to go on."
All of a sudden, Jack's interest was remarkably focussed. "London, sir?"
"London. We look to have a trade ring operating right under our noses but it's damnably hard to penetrate – and we've got to get in there." Cooper leaned his forearms on Jack's desk, his gaze intent but also … wait, was that humour in the old man's eye?
Cooper had met Phryne (of course. Everyone who was anyone, and quite a few people who would prefer to be no-one, at least as far as the police were concerned, had met Phryne). Even appeared to like her, by all accounts. It seemed unlikely, though, that an international criminal endeavour would be set up to suit Jack's interests. Or hers.
No, wait. Surely … he shook himself. No, not even Phryne would go to those lengths. Or could. Not after so short an absence. No.
The image of her face, never far from his mind if truth were told (as of course, it would never be) appeared – he could see his dear torment smiling at him wickedly, her eyes glinting with a world of possibility. And her eyebrows raised.
Two steps behind, Jack?
"It's like this, Jack." He once again forced himself to focus – and counted himself bloody lucky that there had been no serious crimes in the last few weeks. At this rate, a murderer could cruise in and lay waste to everyone in City South Headquarters while Jack was still musing over the colour of a particular lady's lipstick.
"As I see it, there's too much money."