Chapter 2

The Bearers of Bad News

For the first, and perhaps only time in his life, Ironside was genuinely speechless.

It made no sense. It made absolutely no flamin' sense at all!

There was no way he could believe what Carl Reese was telling him. And if it had been anyone else standing there, telling him that his own hand-picked and trusted sergeant had waltzed off with a million dollars worth of heroin, he would have laughed them all the way out of his office. And then all the way out of the building and the city as well.

But Carl was standing there, perfectly serious. No, more than that, he was deadly serious. He walked out with ten kilograms of heroin. He's vanished. It had really happened.

Ironside felt a cold chill run through him as all the implications of that simple statement hit home. Apart from being an illegal Grade A drug that was worth a fortune on the streets, and an uncut and deadly poison, that specific batch of heroin was vital evidence in the McDonald case.

And Sergeant Ed Brown had been intimately involved in that case. If there were any hint of impropriety at all, the Council for the Defence would have a field day. McDonald could even walk… And the case started in less than forty-eight hours.

Ironside realised he was staring. Carl stared back, a look of disbelief on his face, as if he could hardly believe his own words. After a few moments, Reese handed over the file with a quiet sigh, as if relieved to be rid of it.

The Chief opened the folder, trying not to show his anxiety. There were only two pieces of paper inside, carefully sealed in plastic covers. One was a correctly completed Property record sheet, with Ed Brown's badge number and distinctive, looping signature at the bottom. The other was the corresponding requisition order. And that appeared to be signed by Ironside himself!

Ironside looked at the second sheet very carefully. All the necessary information was there, the box number for the heroin, the evidence number, the case number… but the signature wasn't his. Oh, yes, it was close, very close, but it wasn't his signature.

'I… I take it,' started Reese hesitantly, 'I take it you have no idea what I'm talking about?'

Ironside shook his head.

'That's not my signature,' he said.

Carl nodded.

'I didn't think it would be. That order doesn't have your fingerprints on it. But the signature's a good forgery. Good enough to fool someone who'd not seen it that often, or someone who had no reason to question it.'

Ironside was forced to agree.

'And what about Ed's signature?' he asked, fearing the answer. It had looked genuine to him, and he knew his sergeant's writing well.

'Oh, it's his all right,' Carl replied. 'And his fingerprints are on both papers, Jim in the Lab double-checked, double quick. What's more, Chuck Johnson watched him sign the sheet, right at the front desk of Property. That was Ed Brown. No question.'

So Ed had been there, Officer Johnston had seen him. Johnston might not be much of a cop, but he had to be considered as a reliable witness. Inwardly, Ironside swore. That was one reasonable explanation gone.

'We need to find Ed,' Ironside snapped suddenly. 'Mark…!'

'On it already Chief,' said the other man. Ironside glanced over, and saw that Mark had already picked up the phone and was dialling a number.

'You haven't spoken to him?' asked Carl.

'He and Eve called in about two hours ago. They were on their way back from the Bayside Motel, where they were trying to find Henry Brant.'

'Brant? Why him?'

'I got a call saying he had a tip. I sent them right out.'

'There's still no answer, Chief,' Mark told him, holding his hand over the mouthpiece. 'I'll get the operator to keep trying.'

Ironside nodded.

'And Eve was with him?' asked Reese.

Ironside nodded. Carl looked around the Chief's office, as if noticing for the first time that Eve wasn't there. That simple gesture made Ironside's gut twist. Eve…Where was she? Had she been involved too?

Ironside mentally shook his head at that thought. That was just impossible. He knew her, better than she knew herself. Eve couldn't be involved. As much as Ed Brown was his protégé, Eve Whitfield was the very apple of his eye. He was the one who'd encouraged her to join the police force, he was the one who had helped her, and he'd gladly signed the references that had opened so many doors for her.

He'd done everything he could to ensure that she had the chance to realise her potential. That was the very least he could do for her, since any other dimension to their relationship was out of the question. Not that he hadn't considered it, he was certain that Eve had as well. But it wasn't to be. Before the shooting he had held off, unwilling to jeopardise her budding career with something like that. And afterwards it was just… not possible. As much as he loved her, he couldn't burden her with his problems and the bleak future they would have together. She had intuitively understood that, and they had both moved on; he knew Eve was seeing someone else. And he knew she was serious about the relationship.

But as for what had happened at Property; well, even if… and it was a monumentally big "if"… Ed Brown really had done what Carl said he'd done, there was no way in cold, frozen Hell that Eve would have been party to it. She despised drugs, having seen at first hand how it ruined lives.

And Eve, of all people, certainly didn't need the money. Her family had enough money to buy whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it, twice, and it would seem like a small drop in the ocean.

'No one saw Eve?' Ironside asked Carl. The lieutenant shook his head.

'No one mentioned her. And considering the circumstances, I think they would have, Chief.'

Ironside frowned more deeply. She had been with Ed at the Bayside. So where was she now? What was her part in this? And what was going on?

It was impossible to guess without some more information. But Ironside had the acute feeling that this was just the start of something much bigger. It felt like he was looking at a jigsaw puzzle with no picture and only three pieces. There was much more to be learnt, not least an explanation about why it had taken so long to inform him of Ed's disappearance.

Ironside was still for a moment.

Tucked away at the very top of the Police Department, Ironside's quarters were never busy, but it was unnaturally quiet at the moment, with half his team missing. His desk had a large pile of papers on it, and a cup of cold, black coffee. He was due at the Commissioner's Office in a few minutes, and no doubt Dennis would hear about what had happened and demand his presence immediately. Dennis would want answers, and more importantly, he'd want Ironside off the case and away from the whole mess, citing emotional involvement or some other platitude. But Ironside didn't want off this case. These were his people. He had to find them, and help them.

He had to do something. And he had to do something right now.

He thought about Ed, and Eve, picturing their faces. Beyond all the worry and confusion and doubt, deep inside his heart where his instinct was at its most keen, he knew that those two young people were in very great danger. He had to help them; beyond their mutual friendship, the safety of his staff was his responsibility.

He had to act.

Now.

He looked up at Reese.

'Carl, get me an A.P.B. on Ed's car. Then get a warrant and get over to Ed's apartment.'

'His apartment?'

Ironside nodded slowly, his face mirroring Carl's obvious discomfort with the idea of having to search a colleague's house.

'Just you, Carl, and make it count.'

'Ok, Chief,' said Reese, with a nod. 'What else?'

'I want you to get someone over to the Bayside Motel, that's where they called me from. Find out if they were there, and when. Bring me witnesses, anyone who saw them. And get the exchange downstairs to put a tap on this line, on the off chance someone calls.'

The Chief finally turned to his last remaining staff member, who had been patiently waiting in the background. Mark looked back at him, his face showing the same worry that Ironside felt inside.

'What about me?' he asked.

'You can get me over to Property! Right now!'

'Johnston!' bellowed the Chief.

Chuck Johnston was still busy working at the Property desk, but he was a very far cry from the normal happy-go-lucky man he usually was.

'Oh, Chief. Hello…' For once, Johnston didn't look pleased to see him. But he signalled to one of the other officers to some to take his place, and came straight over to Ironside as he wheeled himself slowly inside, with Mark helping to push the wheelchair up the slight slope.

There was no need to say why he was here, and Ironside got straight to the point.

'I need to see inside the lock-up,' Ironside said firmly. 'Right now.'

'Well, I suppose, well, yeah, sure Chief.'

Normally, he would have required some sort of formal identification, but Johnston must have guessed that the Chief was in no mood to waste time with "official procedure" at the moment. The officer took him through personally, through the double-locked doors and into the holding area, where everything was kept safe, waiting collection for transport to the Court.

Ironside looked round carefully, examining the shelves and the other plain brown boxes. Nothing was amiss, nothing else was out of place and there was no sign of anything odd. Annoyed, Ironside rolled himself back to the small main reception area where Mark had waited, then he sat glowering at the floor.

'Find something?' Mark asked.

Ironside shook his head. Truthfully, he hadn't expected to find anything, he just wanted to get a feel for the area. At last, the Chief turned to Officer Johnston, who had been hovering at Ironside's shoulder the whole time in anxious silence.

'So tell me what happened?' he said to Johnston.

'Well, you know, Chief, nothing different, that's just the thing. Sergeant Brown just came in with the order, he signed, I got the box and he left. There was nothing unusual. It happens all the time.'

'You were here on your own?'

'Yeah, it was just the start of lunch break, so I was here alone. We never get busy at lunchtime.'

Ironside frowned. That was another convenient piece of timing. Johnston was the only one here. That pointed to careful planning.

'You sure it was Ed?' asked Mark.

'Come on! I know Ed Brown!'

'Even if your mind was on lunch?'

'And just what's that supposed to mean?'

'Were you concentrating on your job? Were you watching what you were doing?'

'You've no right to insinuate that, Sanger!' snapped Johnston. 'Don't take it out on me if your buddy's switched sides and done a runner with…'

'Stop it!' said Ironside loudly. 'This is not a schoolyard! And arguing is not helping matters.'

'Sorry, Chief,' said Mark, looking contritely at the floor. Johnston added his own, more mumbled, apology.

'Ed showed you his badge?' asked Ironside.

Johnston nodded.

'It was all by the book, Chief,' he said. 'I know the score with McDonald. I'm not going to be breaking regs, not with that one!'

'What did he say?'

'Nothing. Well, nothing 'cept asking for a box.'

'Did he normally chat to you?'

'He often passed the time of day.'

'But not today?'

'No. He looked busy. Impatient. He was just in and out, quick as you like,' Johnston frowned. 'I didn't think anything of it. We all know the big case is coming up. I just figured you wanted it quickly. I figured it had to be important.'

Ironside nodded. It all sounded so worryingly straightforward.

'So when did you report it missing?'

At the question, Johnston licked his lips, shifting his weight away from the Chief.

'Burwell called a half hour, or an hour later. Lieutenant Burwell, Narcotics?'

'I know who Lieutenant Jimmy Burwell is,' growled Ironside.

'All the files go up sometime after lunch, Burwell likes to know what's going on. He called as soon as he saw it demanding an explanation. He said your signature was forged.'

'And?'

'A-And…?' Johnston looked at the Chief, then to Mark. 'And what?'

'My office has a phone. My van has a phone, Officer Johnston. Why didn't you call me?'

'P-p-pro-procedure states that any queries have to be handled through Internal Affairs. Murray was clear that…'

'That still doesn't explain why you didn't pick up the phone and ask me. It took almost two hours to send someone over to my office!' bellowed Ironside. 'That's two hours you have wasted! Why?'

The answer was obvious. Johnston was scared to death of the Chief.

Ironside watched the other man for a few moments, his anger simmering. If Johnston hadn't been so keen on doing everything by the book, Ironside wouldn't have been kept in the dark for so long, and Ed wouldn't have had such a big head start.

Johnston started to mumble another apology, but Ironside cut him off.

'That's all in the past,' he said, his tone showing his displeasure. 'And there's nothing else?'

'Well, I did mention the weather to him,' said Johnston with a strained laugh. Ironside didn't see anything particularly funny about that, and he glared at Johnston. The laugh died away.

Ironside wheeled himself closer to the main desk, where Ed Brown must have stood to wait for Johnston to return with the drugs. He examined it carefully, looking for any sign that Ed had left a clue to his intentions. But there was nothing. No sign that he had ever been there. No clue, no message. Nothing.

'What you looking for Chief?' asked Johnston.

Ironside looked up at the other man in surprise.

'If Ed was in trouble, be might have tried to leave a message. Letters, numbers, scrawled with a pen. Something.'

'But he didn't have a pen,' said Johnston.

'No pen? Ed?' said Ironside incredulously.

'You still sure it was Ed Brown?' said Mark, with a half smile.

'He borrowed mine,' said Johnston patting his pocket, where Ironside could see the top of a tatty-looking biro poking out.

Ironside glared at Johnston again.

'Is there anything else you haven't told me about this supposedly normal exchange?' he demanded. 'Did he have his gun?'

Johnston shrugged, looking back and forth between the Chief and Mark.

'We don't check your firearms at Property,' he said. 'I didn't see.'

'But you are a trained police officer, Officer Johnston. You're supposed to be relied on to keep your eyes open.'

'I didn't see,' insisted Johnston. 'He had his jacket on.'

Just as Johnston stopped talking, there was a cough behind Ironside and the Chief looked round. A young officer was standing close by, looking uneasy.

'Chief Ironside?' a man asked tentatively. Ironside didn't recognise him, and judging by his uptight manner and his clean-cut demeanour, he was a rookie.

'Yes?' snapped Ironside, not in the mood to pander to anyone at the moment. 'What is it?'

'It's um… it's the Commissioner,' the man said in an almost conspiratorial whisper, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 'He's waiting for you in there.'

Ironside's formidable scowl never wavered for a moment.

'That is all I need,' he muttered, wheeling himself round and rolling to the doorway. 'Mark, you wait here.'

The rookie held the door open for him as he went inside. Commissioner Dennis Randall was sitting on the edge of the table, his arms crossed, frowning down at the floor. He waited until the door had closed behind Ironside before looking up. From the expression on his face Ironside could see this was not going to be an easy conversation. Somehow, with the Commissioner, they never were. He braced himself.

'So, Dennis, I see you've heard,' said Ironside.

'I heard a great deal later than I would have expected, Bob!' said Dennis angrily. 'I would have expected you to tell me of something as important as this as soon as it came in.'

'I didn't want to worry you, Commissioner,' said Ironside, as lightly as he could. Randall kept frowning.

'You know what I mean, Bob,' he said. 'This is bigger than you, or your staff. This is one of the biggest cases we've brought to court in a long, long time. There's a lot riding on this.'

Ironside nodded, though he didn't need to be told. It was one of the highest profile cases he'd been involved with, almost as big as the Richards case a number of years ago. That name scratched at the back of Ironside's mind, bringing back some very unpleasant memories. He didn't want to go through something as disastrous as that again.

'And when the press get hold of this, I dread to think what's going to happen,' said Randall with a sigh.

'You can keep a lid on it for the time being,' said Ironside. 'Only a handful of people know. Johnston, Burwell, Murray from Internal Affairs, Carl. Just make sure it stays that way.'

'And what if Sergeant Brown has other ideas about that?'

Ironside took that remark as an insult. He would have said something short and unpleasant to the Commissioner, old friendships notwithstanding, but in a sense, he understood what Dennis meant. Ed seemed to be the one with the all the cards at the moment, and in all truth, Ironside had no idea what Ed would do next. So instead of answering back, the Chief contented himself with glowering.

'I know what you think already,' said Randall. 'And I don't want to believe it either. But we have to consider the possibility that…'

'You've known Ed Brown for as long as I have,' interrupted Ironside angrily. 'You know what kind of cop he is, what kind of man he is!'

'That's not the point,' insisted Randall. 'You know what he's done. He walked into this office with a forged order and walked out with vital evidence. And now he's gone.'

'But we don't know why he did any of that.'

Dennis stood up, arms still crossed, expression uncompromising.

'Well, we're running out of options, Bob. The McDonald case is up in less than two days. Evidence is missing, along with one of the policemen connected with the investigation. You tell me how it's going to look to the Defence?'

'I know that!'

'The whole case is going to come crashing down about our ears unless we act quickly.'

The two men stared at each other. The Commissioner looked away first.

'And I know how worried you must be, Bob,' said Randall quietly.

From the whole police department in the City of San Francisco, Robert Ironside had chosen Ed Brown and Eve Whitfield to be on his staff. The very idea that one of them could go bad, cross the fence and betray the department was as much of a personal insult as anything else.

'We have to be realistic, Bob,' said Randall. 'We have to face the facts. And somehow we have to get that evidence back, before the judge calls a mis-trial and McDonald walks out of here a free man.'

'I know,' said the Chief. 'But we cannot discount the possibility that Ed did this under duress.'

'Is that what you think?' asked Dennis. 'Because, either way, we have to find him.'

Ironside had no choice but to tell the other man the truth and tell him what he really thought, in the circumstances. He owed him that much. Ironside's face darkened.

'Frankly, Dennis? If he was forced into this somehow, then I think he's dead. Once the drugs were out of the Property Office, they had no reason to keep him alive.'

There was a very unpleasant silence.

'And what if he's not dead,' asked Randall. 'What if he's alive and well, and sitting around with a million dollars worth of drugs to keep him company?'

Ironside drew a deep breath.

'Then he has a lot of explaining to do.'