Private Sydney (Private 12)

ontainers were empty.’

‘Sir Lang must have had them emptied as soon as Dad left.’

I bit into a roll and shook my head. ‘They hadn’t been opened recently and were pretty much rusted closed. Contigo was on the fraud squad’s radar.’

‘Wait! Fraud? My father would never –’

I put a hand on hers. ‘Just hear me out, please, and it may make more sense. We think he showed prospective lenders one container at the base, then flew them over others, which were supposed to house expensive equipment.’

‘What was the point?’

‘That’s what I wondered. By then the bankers trusted him. Eric was accepting hundreds of millions of loans based on government contracts, which we can’t confirm, and I can’t see how he could have paid the loans back with interest. When the finance officer asked about some missing charity dinner tickets, I suspect your dad panicked.’ I sipped my coffee. ‘Once the in-house accounts team started auditing, they would have found evidence of much more substantial fraud. It’s the only explanation as to why a missing receipt for ten thousand dollars triggered his disappearance.’

‘But the organisation was financially sound.’

‘If your dad was lying to bankers about non-existent technology and equipment, something was very wrong. I suspect your father had built a house of cards that was about to collapse. It would explain why he disappeared in such a hurry, without telling you.’

Chapter 88

A KNOCK ON the door broke a long, tense silence.

It was Mark Talbot. He was alone and didn’t apologise for the interruption. I wondered what bombshell he was about to drop by turning up at my home uninvited. I knew there was still no word on baby Zoe.

He wasn’t forthcoming with the reason for his visit so I let him know about the phone hacking by Craven Media and how Collette’s mobile was evidence. If they tracked the car that Johnny saw last night, the police would no doubt find illegal listening and surveillance devices.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Mark said, ‘I didn’t think you’d risk a child’s life for publicity or kickbacks. I know you better than that.’

Was that actually an apology? Maybe my cousin had been upset about his break-up and taken it out on me. I decided to let it go and offered to make him a coffee, but all I had was instant. He looked at the takeaway cups.

‘I’ll pass. I need to talk to Miss Moss. Alone.’

‘I want him to stay,’ Eliza said, reaching for my hand.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Mark.

‘Your prerogative,’ he shrugged.

I offered him a seat but he preferred to stand. This wasn’t just about the Zoe Ruffalo case or information leaks. Mark hadn’t come to apologise or make peace. This visit was serious, and official.

‘I’ve been asked by the commissioner to liaise with the Federal Police on Eric Moss’s disappearance. He’s asked me to personally update you on the case. And before you say anything, Craig, I’m as surprised as you. It’s my area of command, but the investigation is being run by other agencies. My team has no official involvement.’

Eliza bit her top lip and I could see the pulse in her neck. We were both anticipating the worst news.

‘We believe Eric Moss was using a false identity.’ Mark let his words hang but there was no reaction from either of us. ‘Evidence suggests he was a Swiss con man by the name of Hans Erikson Gudgast, born February 11, 1956. He was a mathematical genius who completed university by the age of sixteen and was recruited by a Swiss bank. He took bribes to set up bank accounts in false names for foreign nationals and was due to face trial for embezzlement and fraud. Something about skimming point zero, zero, zero, zero something cents from every account transaction. Made millions before anyone could notice.’

‘Did he skip bail?’ I asked.

‘He was thought to have died in a kayaking accident on Lake Lucerne, at the ripe old age of twenty. A shoe and safety vest were all that washed up and they were positively identified as his.’ He crossed his arms and leant back against the stove. ‘A few months later, in June 1976, a man with a French passport entered Australia with the name Hans Gudgast. His mother was purportedly French so he had dual citizenship. Documents confirm he was six foot one and a hundred and sixty pounds. This of course preceded the European Union and digital records.’

I quickly did the maths. Gudgast would have been fifty-eight years old, the same age as Eric Moss. ‘You think Gudgast flew here to avoid prosecution?’

‘He was on the passenger manifest for a flight to New Zealand a week after arriving in Sydney and there were no further entries to Australia.’

‘Then that can’t be Dad,’ Eliza said. ‘Once you’re confirmed on the passenger list, you have to board or they take your luggage off and stop the plane.’

‘Not back then,’ I remembered. ‘You could get your boarding pass and leave the airport. If he didn’t have luggage, no one would have noticed or recorded his absence.’

‘We believe,’ Mark said firmly, ‘that Hans Erikson Gudgast and Eric Moss are one and the same person.’