The Tattooed Man Read Free Page B

parked his car. He stopped to look back at the house, a flamboyant architectural vision of curved sandstone walls and wide windows offering panoramic views. As a mausoleum, it was more ornate than most he visited in his line of work. Harrigan let himself out, hoping he would never have to come back here.

2
    O utside on the street, under the hard blue sky, the trees shivered in the extreme heat. A hot wind gusted around Harrigan with a low roar. It carried the promise of bushfire, a warning to watch for thick plumes of smoke above the expensive houses built onto these steep, forested hillsides. He had left his car deeply shaded by the laneway’s trees. When he walked towards it, he saw a Harley-Davidson parked in front, blocking his exit. A woman dressed in a white T-shirt and motorbike leathers was sitting on the hog side on, seemingly waiting for him.
    ‘Paul Harrigan? Commander Harrigan?’ she called out. ‘Do you have a moment? I do have a reason for being here.’
    The voice was clear and caught his attention. Harrigan hesitated. The woman stepped lightly to the ground and moved towards him.
    ‘Why don’t you take this?’ she said with a smile, offering her card. ‘Then you won’t have to wonder who I am.’
    Sam Jonas. Personal Security Manager. Life Patent Strategies Inc.
    Harrigan studied the card and its owner. She was tall, close to six feet. The set of her shoulders underher T-shirt and her tight, muscular body said she worked out regularly. She was in her mid, possibly late thirties. Her hair was black, braided at the back of her head with a thick fringe over the forehead. A longish face, smoothly and finely carved. Her tanned skin was flawless, her eyes almost green, her mouth dark red without lipstick. In this catalogue of perfection, there was no semblance—at least to him—of sensuality. His immediate instinct towards her was distrust.
    ‘Sam Jonas. Is that your real name?’
    ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
    ‘It’s just a question. I ask them in my business. What are you doing here? How come you know who I am?’
    ‘Isn’t Paul Harrigan well known? You often get your picture in the paper. Aren’t you touted as commissioner material? That means something in this town.’
    ‘But you knew this was my car.’
    ‘No, I didn’t. They wouldn’t help me at the front gate so I came back here. When I saw the car, I thought it might belong to someone who’s involved in whatever’s going on in there.’
    This explanation, faintly plausible, left Harrigan wondering why any knowledge about him should be of interest to someone who, so far as he knew, had no connection to him. He noted her accent: Australian overlaid with an English intonation. Someone who had spent a lot of time in Britain.
    ‘Why are you so interested?’ he asked.
    ‘I’m here for my employer. Do you know the name Dr Elena Calvo? She’s the CEO for Life Patent Strategies. Senator Edwards is Elena’s connection to the Australian government. He was supposed to be at a meeting with her today, but he didn’t turn upand he’s not answering his phone.’ Sam glanced at the house with a turn of her strong and graceful neck. ‘His PA said he was up here. Then we heard there’d been a multiple shooting. We only want to know if the senator is okay.’
    Sam’s words brought back the blackness of the scene inside the house. The faces of the dead became masks mirrored in Harrigan’s mind, looking out through his own eyes. For a moment, the outside world disappeared.
    ‘So is he?’ Sam’s voice, harder this time, interrupted his thoughts. ‘Is the senator still on his feet? Did you talk to him?’
    ‘I’ve talked to him. If your concern is for his welfare, you’re better off leaving him alone.’
    ‘Is there something on your mind, Commander? Did you see something in there you didn’t like? I’d have thought someone with your background would be used to dealing with the dead. Isn’t it all straightforward enough once you face up