Private Sydney (Private 12)

‘They’re too easy to override. It’s how housekeeping gets in when someone’s inside.’

There was a moment’s pause. ‘Then I’ll stay here. After what I did to that guy, he isn’t coming back tonight.’

‘That’s a bad idea,’ I stressed. The intruder would most likely return. Maybe with back-up next time.

‘Eliza, please trust me. You’ll be safest at my place, even if you’re being followed. Darlene can let the deputy commissioner of police know you’re there. The police can watch your place, just in case.’

The wider implications of the attack seemed to stun Eliza. Suddenly her world would never be an entirely safe place again.

‘This is insane. What was Dad really involved in?’

‘I’m trying to get to that now.’ The phone crackled. Reception deteriorated the further away from the compound we

got.

Mary signalled we were almost there.

‘You’ll be safe tonight. Just stay there until I get home.’

‘Hurry back,’ she pleaded.

While I had Darlene on the line, I needed to know about Collette. She filled me in on the car with two inhabitants, one of whom was on his way to grab Collette’s phone from the step when Johnny intercepted him. After that, the boyfriend took a call, excused himself and left.

I was relieved we at least had a lead on who’d put the malware on her phone. ‘Can you trace the plates?’

Darlene was ahead of me. ‘Sure did. It belongs to Craven Media, owners of The Sydney Post.’

Chapter 80

RANSACKING A HOUSE with the owner inside sounded amateur, or desperate. The CIA or ADIA should have known better. Unless they knew Eliza’s schedule and expected her to be out. I wouldn’t put it past some of the agents I’d met to be that incompetent. The physical risk to Eliza bothered me most.

What if her intruder was from the media group? If Craven Media were bugging our offices, it was a new low, even for them. There’d been phone hacking incidents in the UK, but nothing as overt in this country. Obviously, things had changed. It explained how Marcel Peyroni managed to get to the Wallaces’ house in Dural before the Tactical Response unit.

Craven Media fed their scandal appetite via stunts like the one they pulled on Private. We looked after clients who wanted to hide scandal. They wanted to capitalise on that. Now we had a source for the malware, Gideon Mahler could trace it right back to Peyroni and Craven and prove the illegal bugging. Once we were back I’d let the police and federal agencies sort him out, along with his media magnate boss. A mere suggestion they were suspected of breaking, entering and threatening a disabled woman would be enough to irrevocably damage their business. Like the rot they printed, there didn’t need to be truth in the accusation.

This late, the bush around Contigo Valley was eerily quiet. The only sounds were our feet crunching on twigs and rocks. I was perspiring heavily and stopped for a long drink.

Eliza’s break-in preyed on my mind. I doubted even Peyroni and his team would have risked being caught in there.

For anyone chasing Eric Moss, Eliza was an easy target, given she was the only family Eric Moss had as far as anyone knew. Instinct told me it had to be someone from ADIA or the CIA in her home. Whoever broke in had to believe Eliza knew more about her father than she let on, or that he’d given her whatever it was they wanted.

That meant something tangible existed. Not just what Eric Moss kept to himself. A file, an object, papers? A code?

Further ahead, Mary checked her bearings.

‘The containers should be just up here.’ A hundred metres later, she unstrapped the boltcutters from her backpack. Mary was the fittest person I knew, but her endurance was exceptional. She seemed to function without sleep or rest until a crisis was averted. Even then she’d be back at work a few hours later.

We pushed through to the clearing. Searching with night-vision goggles, there was no suggestion of surveillance out here. No wires, no cameras and no power source.

We checked the helipad first. Small cracks had formed in the concrete. I wouldn’t have wanted to land anything on a helipad that hadn’t been maintained. It seemed odd, given Eric Moss’s obsession with detail, cleanliness and presentation. I suspected nothing had landed on this for quite a while. It could have partly explained why Geoff Andren flew prospective lenders right over it. The question remained, why would Moss neglect this site?

The locks to both containers were rusted and didn’t appear to have been recently disturbed.

Mary got to work with the boltcutters and the first padlock snapped with a loud crack. With a fair amount of effort we managed to creak open the door.

I shone the light inside.

Mary and I stood back in stunned silence.