Chang told me that part of his brief was to investigate links between Asian and Lebanese criminals and that marine insurance scams were one of the areas of concern, along with drugs, people smuggling and extortion.
'What's the name of your task force?'
Chang smiled. 'It's a serious investigative unit, so it doesn't have a silly name. The people we're interested in launder drug and extortion money by buying boats, insuring them, scuppering them and collecting the insurance. Then they collect on the salvage. Sometimes they rehabilitate the boat altogether and go through the process again. They have people inside the insurance companies playing along, also some inside finance companies. It's complex, with all sorts of legal and accounting tangles.'
I said I knew Nordlung had been involved in a dodgy insurance deal. 'But he isn't Asian or Lebanese.'
'His wife's Chinese.'
'Her name's Gretchen.'
'She changed it. We think Nordlung was up to his balls and beyond in this stuff. Something must've gone wrong and he paid a price. He wasn't the only one. These people don't hesitate to clean a slate. How did you know about Nordlung?'
I produced DS Caulfield's card. 'He told me. I assume you're working together on this?'
Chang smiled. 'How much do you know about police politics?'
I knew a fair bit from personal experience and talking with Frank Parker over the years. The old antagonism between the 'kneelers' and the 'shakers'-the Catholics and the Masons- had given way to divisions over the roles of specialised units and the personalities of senior officers. With a bit of intrastate and federal/state rivalry thrown in. I watched Chang push the card away.
'Not a team?' I said.
'Not exactly. Caulfield's Serious Crimes. They're not enamoured with a unit headed up by a slope with a Muslim 2IC. These are murky waters you've got into, Cliff.'
So I was Cliff again. 'Caulfield warned me off. Are you doing the same?'
'No, I'm thinking you could be very useful.'
After all the years I'd spent in the investigation business I thought I'd seen and experienced just about everything, but Chang's proposition was something new.
'You want me to act as an undercover cop?'
'Something like that, yes.'
'Why would I do that?'
'Why not? Are you telling me you've never pretended to be something you weren't before?'
'Of course not, but…'
'But what?'
I hadn't identified my client (if that was the word), but it wouldn't have taken Chang long to work it out. A quick call to Caulfield would do the trick whether they were simpatico or not. Although everything was getting tricky I still felt some provisional loyalty towards Standish until I could be convinced he didn't deserve it. I thought about how desperate he'd looked in the restaurant and how little effect May Ling's solicitude was having. Given her allure that was true desperation.
'I've got an obligation.'
'Of course you have, but you've already told me that the man you have an obligation to didn't look comfortable with the Wongs and the Middle Easterner-let's call him a Lebanese. I'm telling you that if your man is involved with the Asian/Lebo connection the best way you could help him would be to help get some of those bastards into court.'
'And get myself targeted by the others?'
'Come on, what else are you going to do-just drop it?'
It was a good question. I hate loose ends and, as things stood, there were more loose ends than anything else. Quite apart from any duty to Standish there was the question of Richard Malouf. Was he alive or was he dead? I couldn't just let it go.
'I can give you phone numbers so that you can get me or Karim Ali, my number two, at any time twenty-four seven. And a number that can get you backup very, very quickly. As far as humanly possible, we'll see your guy right for as long as you want. What d'you say?'
I nodded agreement. Chang took out his mobile.
'What're you doing?' I said.
'Just hang on.' He made a call and spoke briefly before closing the phone. 'I've got a couple of people watching us just in case there's someone watching you.'
'I checked that for myself before you got here.'
'Glad to hear it. Just making sure. All clear, then. Thanks for the coffee. We'll keep in touch.'
He unwound his long frame and strolled away. Good exit line-I liked that 'we'.
Strange though the circumstances were, I decided to proceed as I would have in a normal investigation and that meant little more than following my instincts. I now knew where Standish was and, more or less, how to get in touch with him. There were only half a dozen flats in the McMahons Point block and I felt pretty sure I could bluff my way to the right one. Eventually I'd have to confront Standish and convince him he needed my help, but for the moment I was still intrigued by the initial question about Malouf. His wife had ID'd him: if he was still alive she'd lied.
The address I had for Rosemary Malouf was in Bondi Junction. I phoned and learned that it was a travel agency. The man I spoke to said she was on her morning tea break. I made an appointment to see Mrs Malouf straight after her lunch break at two pm. I still had the card Malouf had given me at one of our brief meetings and I thought I could use it to get her attention at least long enough for me to make an assessment of her. I fitted in a gym session before driving there and even had time to have a look at the beach. I skipped lunch.
The travel agency was a hole-in-the-wall kind of place with the usual array of glossy posters and advertisements for airlines and package tours. Tourism is down, they say, and this place certainly seemed to bear that out. I was the only person to go in and the smile on the face of the young man seated behind the desk faded when I told him why I was there.
'Rose'll be back any minute. Then I can get away for a job interview, thank God.'
'Things are slow?'
'Non-existent. Here she is.'
A woman stepped into the office, taking off her coat. She was thirtyish, small, and pretty in a fair, fragile sort of way. 'Off you go, Troy. Good luck. Good afternoon, Mr Hardy.'
Troy grabbed a coat and hurried out as I sat on the other side of Rosemary Malouf's desk. 'Now what can I do for you? Troy said you were a bit mysterious on the phone. Are you planning a trip?'
I shook my head and put Malouf's card down on the desk. Her neat little jaw tightened as she looked at it.
'What d'you want?' she said. 'I haven't got any money.'
'He has.'
'He gambled it all away and then he was killed. Please leave.'
'You identified him.'
'Yes.'
'Someone claims to have seen him alive.'
'Go away.' She reached into her bag for her mobile phone. 'I'm calling the police.'
'I'm working with the police.'
A look of sheer terror came into her face. She dropped the phone and buried her face in her hands. 'Go away. Go away, please.'
There was nothing else to do. She kept her face covered and her hands were shaking. I picked up Malouf's card and replaced it with one of my own. It was long out of date in describing me as a PEA, but at least it had my contact details minus the office number.
'I'm sorry to distress you,' I said. 'You can contact me if you need any help.'
She shook her head, keeping it low, and began punching numbers on her mobile. I left the shop and went to a coffee place on the other side of the street. I sat inside by the window and had a clear view of the travel agency as I worked on a watery flat white. Troy came back looking depressed. It was a miserable moment for everyone.
After about thirty minutes a car pulled up outside the travel agency. It parked illegally, but neither the driver nor the man who got out of the back seat seemed to care. He went into the shop. I paid for my coffee and took up a position where I could get a good view of whoever left the shop but couldn't be easily seen myself. I had a state of the art mobile phone Megan had bought me. I hadn't mastered all its functions but I knew enough to enable me to zoom and get a good set of pictures.
I had the camera to the ready when the man came out of the shop and I caught him as he moved towards the car. He stopped and lit a cigarette before he got in. He was stocky and dark, wearing a well-cut suit and an unbuttoned, double-breasted overcoat. I recognised him: he was the man who'd joined the Wong brothers, May Ling and Miles Standish in the North Sydney Chinese restaurant.