Private Sydney (Private 12)

‘Call the embassy, tell them who you are and see if they’ll open the gates,’ I urged.

She used her smartphone to find the number.

We were fast approaching the Parliamentary Triangle, an area rife with tourists, workers and the highest concentration of police. And the biggest security response to potential terrorist threats. I needed to put time between us and our pursuers. We had no chance of losing them.

The traffic lights on to King George Terrace remained green. I tapped the brake, then accelerated on the orange and swung right, barely missing an ACTION bus. The police lost time slowing at the red. But not enough.

Clinging to the left verge, the rear wheels barely hung on. A furniture truck loomed just ahead and indicated right. I took it on the inside, thumping up the kerb, then swung hard right.

Tyres squealed as the back wheels slipped. I took my foot off the pedal and steered out. The truck stopped mid-turn, buying me precious seconds.

I crossed two more sets of traffic lights and found myself behind the Hyatt Hotel. The police were gaining.

I looped around to the embassy but the gates were closed.

On the phone, Eliza continued to plead for someone to open them. We needed more time. I passed the embassy and swung left on to Commonwealth Avenue then dog-tailed into the Hyatt entrance, barely missing a row of parked cars. Accelerating out of the bend, I turned hard left as the police car entered the drive, close behind, carefully steering past a Lamborghini and Porsche. Our pursuers weren’t so lucky. Eliza spun her head around at the crash.

In the rear-view mirror, I saw the mess. The marked car clipped the Lambo and pushed it into the Porsche.

I flinched at the carnage, cornered left and floored it to the embassy, metres away. ‘We’re outside now!’ Eliza shouted, and the gate began to open.

I braked and spun hard. The car slid into the driveway as an unmarked car jumped the kerb and cut off my path, blocking our access to the gate. I put my left arm out to protect Eliza.

Our car squealed to a sudden stop, just short of the vehicle that had swung in to block us. Eliza’s seatbelt locked but her head was thrown forward and back against the headrest.

I unchecked my belt and saw a gun pointed in at me through the window.

Chapter 120

THE POLICE OFFICER yelled at me to raise my hands, as he opened my door.

‘Slowly exit the car!’ he ordered.

As I stepped out, hands raised, I saw the Glock aimed at Eliza.

‘Get out, ma’am, with your hands up.’

‘She can’t physically lift her arms,’ I shouted. ‘And she needs a wheelchair. It’s in the boot.’

Two plain-clothes men assisted her and she stood, propped against the car.

There were sudden shouts in Chinese, and three armed guards appeared in the drive from within the embassy.

Guns were pointed at the police now, who diverted their attention to the new threat.

‘Stand down!’ a voice behind me shouted.

A well-groomed gentlemen gave an order in Mandarin. His men lowered their weapons as he stepped through the gate.

‘Sir, this is Federal Police business.’ The officer who still had his gun trained on us did the talking. ‘I ask you and your guards to step back and away.’

‘This has just become official business of the People’s Republic of China,’ the other man answered, now switching to perfect English.

I noticed cameras on the brick fence, recording every minute. A fleet of police vehicles began filling the street.

‘Sir, you don’t understand. These two are wanted for aiding a fugitive, and are suspected of illegally selling classified information. Their crimes are covered by the Terrorist Act.’

‘What?’ Eliza demanded. ‘This has to be a sick joke.’