Like most army personnel, Jay rarely asked about his fellow soldiers’ personal lives. It just didn’t seem appropriate. Soldiers travel the country on different posting cycles to differing localities. One year, or two maximum, with the same team. The trip to Afghanistan was the first time Jay had met Mark Simpson. Simpson had gone through his interrogation training after Jay and they hadn’t met until shortly before their deployment. When they deployed, Jay had moved to a forward area with the SASR while the others had remained in a rear echelon, manning a primary interrogation facility. Jay now found himself making up for lost time by figuring out who Mark Simpson and his cousin, Toni, really were.
Detective Peterson had been prompt in his request for background checks for both. Within an hour of Jay asking, Peterson had provided all of the details he could get his hands on, which was very little. Apart from a speeding fine for Mark two years ago, he didn’t register anything else.
Toni didn’t have any traffic offences, but did have a concealed weapons licence and a registered 9mm pistol in her name. That wasn’t unusual for a military police officer. The main piece of information Jay took away was both their addresses. Jay requested one of the secret agents to do some discreet surveillance on Toni while he was driven by the other agent to check Mark’s apartment.
The apartment complex was a couple of suburbs from Jay’s father’s house. A two-storey, L-shaped formation made of bricks that had noticeable cracks from earth slippage. The suburb position probably put the units in the mid-market range. No doubt a rental for Mark. Jay walked up the sloping driveway, happy that his leg was responding to the icepacks and that the swelling was receding. There were seven single garages with numbers painted in fluorescent green in the middle of the roller-doors.
Only one unit was located on the ground level at the end of the driveway. Jay checked the number against the address Peterson had supplied. He got lucky. No need to walk up stairs. And ground level meant he could look through the windows.
A double window sat beside the weathered front door. Jay moved to the window, and peered in through a slit at the bottom of the faded yellow curtains. He made out a dark leather lounge and a cabinet with various bottles of spirits, wine glasses and some photos in frames. Toni hadn’t done a very good job of packing for her uncle.
He walked around the corner and noticed outlines of various bathroom products behind the frosted glass. Strike two for Toni. He sensed someone approaching and turned.
A short woman, mid-sixties, with thick eyebrows had come up behind him. She wiped her hands on an apron slung around her waist. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Hello. I’m Jay Ryan, a friend of Mark’s. Do you know where I could find him?’
‘Sorry, love. Haven’t seen him for weeks. But that’s not unusual.’
‘Do you live here?’
‘Right above.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘Saw you snooping around.’
Good, Jay thought. ‘Has anyone else come by in the last few days?’
She straightened and looked above Jay in thought. ‘Not that I saw. Why?’
‘Mark has some of my fishing rods and I’m supposed to be taking my son fishing. He’ll be disappointed if we don’t go.’
She seemed to soften with the mention of the fictitious son. ‘Well, love, we’d hate to disappoint. How old is your boy?’
‘Five.’ Jay didn’t like being deceptive, but he needed to get into the garage. And he figured the neighbour knew how.
She looked around to make sure nobody could hear. ‘I think I could help you. Mark keeps all his fishing stuff in the garage and he gave me a spare key once. My washing machine was bust and he let me use his. I still might have that key somewhere.’
Sure you do. ‘That would help me out so much. My boy would be so pleased.’
‘Why don’t you wait around the corner, love? I’ll be right back.’
She scurried away and returned to open the garage moments later. A dust-covered late model Holden ute took up most of the space. There would have been no room for Mark to work under it in the garage. He would have had to work on it in the driveway.
‘You ever see Mark work on the ute?’
‘You’re kidding, love. I know more about cars than that boy.’ She giggled at her own joke.
Jay squeezed down the side of the ute to the back of the garage. A sink, washing machine, dryer and a dozen fishing rods. The rods were stacked neatly in a rack. An assortment of surf rods to smaller rods used for bay fishing. Mark had a good selection for just about any occasion. Jay couldn’t remember Mark ever mentioning his love of fishing. But, by the gear he had, it was obvious.
Jay grabbed two of the smallest rods with reels attached and rejoined the neighbour.
‘Here they are. My boy will be pleased.’
‘Where are you taking him fishing, love?’
‘Redcliffe. Off the old Hornibrook Bridge.’
‘He’ll love it. My Walter spent many a night on that bridge when he was alive.’ She frowned. ‘Spent many a night at the pub too.’
Jay didn’t know how to answer, so he remained quiet and gave a knowing look.
‘Anyway, love. I’ll let Mark know that you picked those up. Hope you and your son catch some good-sized fish.’
‘I hope so too. Thank you for your help. You have a great afternoon.’
‘Bye, love.’ She turned her back and closed the garage door.
Jay checked the concrete on the driveway as he walked back to the car. He was looking for a large stain. He knew he wouldn’t find one.
After throwing the rods in the back seat of the Chevy, the secret agent drove Jay home to finalise his plan.
The bridge itself proved to be the main hurdle to the plan due to its size. Built in the early thirties, it spanned just under three kilometres, linking Sandgate to Redcliffe. At the time of construction, it was the largest viaduct road in the southern hemisphere. It closed to vehicle traffic in the late seventies after a replacement three-lane bridge was built next to it. Since that time, the old bridge had become a favourite fishing spot and a regular route for runners and cyclists. Jay recalled the best fishing spot was near the middle where the channel was deepest. It was identifiable by a rise in the road like a large speed bump. After Peterson and Bill had arrived from Byron Bay, it had taken over an hour of heated debate, mainly between Peterson and Bill, to come up with the best option.
By nine o’clock, the plan was finalised, all of the key players in place and Jay had all the equipment he needed. He cleared his mind with a strong, milky coffee and waited for Toni to arrive.