Private Sydney (Private 12)

‘Don’t get excited, I can’t go far. The legs run out of oomph pretty quickly.’

Eliza deflected conversation, something I suspected she was very good at. There was no hint of the trauma she’d experienced last night.

I wouldn’t normally open my home to a client but this case was bigger and more threatening than I’d imagined. And there was something special about Eliza.

‘Hungry?’ I nodded at the food.

‘I am now.’ She pulled herself on to one of the stools by the kitchen bench and placed her crutches in the corner.

I tore open the bags to expose cheese and bacon rolls, croissants and fresh bread. Plates from the cupboard went on the bench along with the two takeaway coffees.

Eliza asked if I had sugar. I rummaged through the cupboard but came up empty. Living alone, I tended to cook the essentials – meat and veggies, salads, sometimes roast a chicken.

‘Sorry.’

‘No problem. It’s all about the caffeine.’

I thought about moving outside to the balcony, with the ocean view, but the chairs out there were low set. I joined Eliza, facing the ocean.

‘We learnt some things last night.’

‘Go on.’ Her back straightened and she picked small pieces from the cheese and bacon roll and popped them into her mouth.

‘With the visit from the US Ambassador, you being followed and then broken into, we have to think your father was involved in some kind of government organisation, overt or covert.’

‘You mean like the CIA? You’re kidding, right?’

I’d expected at best denial, at worst an argument. But Eliza had to believe last night was a targeted attack, irrespective of what the police may have said.

‘I’m serious. It isn’t unusual for government agencies to set up in other countries. These organisations sometimes use legitimate businesses as shopfronts. They call it “mutual advantage”.’

Eliza listened intently.

‘Operatives are paid by the business, or organisations, pay tax, and really believe they’re contributing. It’s an ideology as much as a job.’

‘You think Contigo Valley is one of these fronts?’

‘Honestly, I don’t know. It could be that government agencies became interested because of the defence contracts and research and development projects your father initiated.’

‘He is against war, of any kind. Everything he’s done, with the surgical inventions, rehydration techniques, has been to save lives.’ She became absorbed in a tiny piece of bacon. ‘There’s no way he is involved in war-mongering.’ She looked directly at me. ‘If you believe that, you’re crazier than that guy who attacked me.’

Chapter 87

I KNEW ELIZA wouldn’t take the theory well. Still, it had to be said.

‘We have to consider the possibility your father was an agency operative. He didn’t have any form of documentation. If it did exist before he disappeared, it has to have been wiped from every government database. No one else has that sort of power.’

Eliza stared out the window. ‘We often talked about how the CIA overthrew dictators and replaced them with even worse despots. It was like a hydra – every time they intervened, the situation was made worse. Then there’s South America, the Russians in the Ukraine; the list is endless. Those interventions never once ended well or made people safer.’ She flicked her hair, almost defiantly, and the scent of coconut from her shampoo reached me.

‘There’s more,’ I said. ‘Your father was courting bankers for loans. He used containers that supposedly held high-tech equipment that could theoretically be inspected as proof of the organisation’s value.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Supposedly?’

‘There were two shipping containers next to a helipad. Your father could have taken investors there and shown them, as collateral for the loans. He could fly them there anytime. He could pilot helicopters too.’

From the shocked expression, it was clear she didn’t know that.

‘Mary and I trekked out to them last night. The c