Author's Note: In 1976 there was a robbery in Melbourne, Australia that was nicknamed the Great Bookie Robbery. It's not known how much money was taken, but it could have been as much as sixteen million dollars (AUD). No one was convicted of the crime, though the most likely suspects were well known. Most were murdered, by colleagues, rivals or persons unknown. Laurence Prendergast vanished in 1985, and it is generally accepted that he also was murdered.

That's where I deviate from the known facts, for the rest is conjecture. As always, when writing about actual people, I've tried to do so with sensitivity.

A reminder that "Rose Ponsford" is a client who contracted the detectives when she found papers after her father died that suggested he had another identity.

Chapter Six

Robin doesn't even know how many hours she's been fitfully dozing on the plane, trying to get some decent rest, but presumes they must be about halfway to Australia by now. She spends a few minutes on the calming exercises learned in therapy, because her nearest neighbour keeps jolting her awake with his spasmodic movements, even though apparently sound asleep. It's not enough to put her in danger of a panic attack, but neither can she relax. Rose Ponsford insisted on paying for Strike to fly business class, but the partners couldn't afford the same excess for Robin. She's almost regretting her decision to insist Strike take the more expensive ticket when there's a gentle touch on her arm, and she looks up to see him. Assuming her sleep-deprived mind is playing tricks on her, she deliberately blinks to dispel the illusion, but his face remains. He grins and says, "Half time, change sides."

"What?"

After a soft chuckle, he says, "Your turn in the comfy chair." Pointing towards the front of the plane, he explains, "Cindy is expecting you. Just go through the curtain and look for a bubbly blonde woman."

Finally understanding that she's being offered a chance to sleep in comfort, Robin asks, "You're sure?" Lowering her voice to a whisper, she reminds him why he finally accepted the relative luxury of business class. "Your leg."

"Is well rested, as is the rest of me." Unclipping her seatbelt and urging her to stand with a gentle hand on her elbow, he adds, "If we don't spot each other beforehand, I'll catch up with you at baggage claim. Just relax and enjoy."

Still in a bit of a daze at her good fortune, Robin meekly stands, accepting her handbag from him, and then she regains enough brain function to say, "Strike, thank you. You didn't need to do this."

He smiles and says, "Yes, I did."

She rests a hand on his chest and sways into his embrace as if it's not a choice, and then kisses him before saying, "My hero."

He holds her hand against him for a moment, and agrees, "Yours."

It's mainly a courtesy call when Strike stops in at the office of the Australian detective who's been helping with the case. Barry sees him approaching his desk and stands, extending his right hand as he says, "Welcome to Australia. I see you're in the news back home."

At least Barry's accent isn't too broad—some locals should come with subtitles—and Strike shakes the offered hand, saying, "Yeah, we saw." The news that Leda Strike had been murdered by her grandmother-in-law had exploded across London and then the world while Robin and Strike were somewhere high above the Indian Ocean. He sits down in the only other chair, saying, "Never been so glad to be out of London."

Barry reaches for a plastic folder and places it on the desk near Strike, and then sits down, explaining, "That's it, all the hard copies. I've kept a minimum of information in our files, but that's more for book-keeping purposes."

On this, Strike really has no recourse other than to trust the man, so he merely says, "Thanks. And for the work you did. Saved us a lot of time."

"No worries. Happy to help." Strike knows what question is next because Barry's gaze flicks around the office, and he licks his lips before asking, "Did you really find Laurie Prendergast?"

"Not yet, but that's one of the reasons we're here. My colleague is with his family now."

"Good luck to 'er. They wouldn't even take my calls, let alone a face-to-face."

Even as he silently acknowledges that his pride will probably get him into trouble one day, Strike can't resist revealing, "Well, we had an edge: his passport."

Barry slowly nods his head, and says, "No shit?" When the man's eyes flick to the side, Strike wonders if he's accessing a memory of the original case, just before he declares, "But he didn't use it."

"No."

"So, who did?"

Strike picks up the folder and stands, saying, "That's the other reason we're here. Thanks again, Barry."

Barry doesn't bother standing this time, but again shakes Strike's hand, saying, "Don't be a stranger, Strike, and let me know what you find out, 'ey?"

Strike merely smiles and says, "Have to check with the client first."

Looking only slightly disappointed, Barry says, "Yeah, fair enough. You got any down time while you're here? You missed the Cup and the Grand Final, but there's heaps of stuff to do."

So far, the only thing the partners have made leisure time for is each other, and Strike merely says, "Might hit the beach on Friday; it's supposed to be nice."

Barry glances at Strike's right leg, confirming that he knows quite a bit about his English counterpart, and asks, "You swim?"

Strike bends the leg until it's concealed behind him, and mimes paddling as he jokes, "Yeah, but always in a circle, for some reason."

Barry barks a laugh, and then says, "Piss off. Pleasure working with you, mate."

"Yeah, same. Call us if you ever need anything in London."

Barry has already turned back to his computer as he says, "You bet." Strike is only a few steps away when he's called back with, "You like space?"

Shaking his head, Strike asks, "Space?"

"Planets and stuff."

Still confused, Strike says, "Sure, I like space."

Barry jabs the air between with his index finger, stating, "St. Kilda foreshore solar system. Check it out."

None the wiser, Strike bids him farewell with, "St. Kilda, foreshore, solar system. Got it."

Strike is not long back in their hotel room when Robin returns, with that expression that means she's found something, so he greets her with a wide smile, and she asks, "How do you always know?"

He welcomes her into an embrace and kisses her before pointing out the obvious, "I know you."

With a lazy, contented smile, Robin agrees, "Yeah, you do." And then she releases him and dumps her handbag on the bed before producing a weathered postcard from within, announcing, "I have an address, of sorts."

Strike accepts the card, noting that it was sent to a post office box in Melbourne in 1986, with no return address. One side features an idyllic scene from Fiji, with a postmark confirming this origin, and the message reads: No Idea when I'll be back. But I'm thinking of you. Love, Artie

Quietly proud that his top guess is correct, Strike states, "So we're off to Fiji, assuming Rose is still okay with that."

"Nope." Tapping the postcard, Robin explains, "It's a prearranged code. He had money stashed in a few offshore accounts, and only sent her this after he was declared dead. Next stop is Norfolk Island."

He recognises the name from his research into this trip, but has to ask, "Where the fuck is that?"

As if looking at a map in her head, Robin index finger translates in the air a route, "East of Queensland and north of New Zealand."

"Why there? I assumed Fiji, Papua New Guinea or Indonesia, anywhere he could reach by boat that didn't have strict passport control at the time."

Robin looks quietly smug when she explains, "I checked it out on the ride over here; in the 1970s, it was a tax haven, with over one thousand companies registered to a tiny island in the Pacific. And he wouldn't stand out there like he might have in Fiji back then. And the 'Artie' suggests we're looking for an Arthur, so maybe Ponsford isn't fake."

Pushing aside his slight pique at having guessed wrong, about the name and the location, Strike concedes, "Yeah, okay, makes sense." Saluting her with the postcard, he says, "Knew you were the right man for the job."

She bows, and then suggests, "You'd better call Rose right away, see if she's happy for us to check it out."

"So, you really think he's been hiding out there since the 80s?"

Robin shrugs, saying, "Not sure. Once he was settled, and certain that the ruse had worked, he let his family know, but they had already agreed it was too risky to visit or even stay in contact, except in an emergency, so that postcard is all we have."

He hands it back to her, saying, "Then you'd best hang onto it. Do you want to call Rose? You made the breakthrough."

"No, she still prefers you. Oh, and I've been thinking, I won't actually mind if you ever feel the need to flirt back, you know, for a case. I trust you."

Unconcerned, Strike grins and jokes, "Are you trying to tell me that you seduced this bit of paper out of her hands?"

She laughs, saying, "No, but you know what I mean. I was never willing to sleep with anyone for the job, but a wink and a smile can get us a long way, and it doesn't mean we love each other less."

"Okay, how about we play it by ear, and keep being honest with each other?"

Her smile now is the one he'd give up even the agency for, and she says, "Given that's been our plan since day one, I'd say you might be onto something."