NINE

The German shepherds let Jay know he had a visitor. From behind the blinds, he watched a taxi pull away from the kerb. The barking died down and he focused on Sarah Evans. Dressed in casual jeans, sneakers and a body-hugging polo shirt, she moved up the driveway. Her blonde hair flowed over the top of a large backpack. Hazel eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. He knew they were hazel. He remembered the interrogation. A smile creased his face. She hadn't changed. At least, not in appearance.

Jay greeted her at the door. 'Hello, Agent Evans.' He watched closely for a shocked response as he used her real name instead of the cover name she had given.

Sarah raised her sunglasses and smiled. 'Hello again, Jay. Glad you remembered me. Coffee on, or are you having a scotch and dry before lunch?' She walked past him into the living room, placed her backpack on the lounge and turned back.

'Been reading my file?' he asked. 'Surprised you're still keeping track of me. Nice to see you've improved with your body language and verbal reactions, Sarah. I'll forgive you for the false credentials over the phone. Would you prefer scotch or coffee?'

'Coffee, standard NATO.' She looked him over. 'What happened to you?'

Jay moved past her and into the kitchen. He knew the bruising on his face wasn't as bad as it felt and figured she must have been asking about the scratches from Catherine. 'Training.'

'Training must be getting tougher in the army – scratching instead of beating now.'

Jay ran his hand over the marks. 'Something like that.'

Sarah turned her attention to the memorabilia on the walls. 'Your dad must be very proud of you. Sticking up all your medals and decorations for everyone to see.'

'Guess so. He doesn't get many visitors.' Truth was, Jay didn't care much for displaying medals, certificates and decorations, but it made his dad proud to have them hanging on the walls.

The lounge-room was sunk a couple of steps below the kitchen and he watched over the bench as Sarah paused to read the framed letters from the Governor-General and Prime Minister. He finished making the coffee while she walked around the lounge-room reading the various citations.

Balancing the two drinks in his good hand, he brought them back around the counter. Sarah took up a seat directly opposite him.

'Cut to the chase, Sarah. You know I don't like games, remember? What do you want?'

'I know that we're acquainted, in a way. But please remember that I'm an NSIS agent and here to ask you some questions in an official capacity.' She sipped her coffee and waited for a response.

Jay leaned forward and placed his cup on the table. 'I'm well aware of who you are. As you're well aware of who I am. No more bullshit. I have things to do. What do you want?' He focused on her eyes, waiting for the reaction he wanted. She didn't flinch. He was impressed. She wasn't as naive as he had remembered. The eyes never lie.

'Lazarau. What's your connection with him?' she asked.

'No connection.'

'Come on, Jay. That was an open question and implied some clarification of what you know. Like you said – no more bullshit.'

'Fair enough.' He had calculated his response since her call earlier that morning. 'Since you rang I've been looking into it. Truth is, I hadn't heard of him before today. Of course, I've heard whispers within the community that some idiot tried to sell a few secrets and got caught. Didn't know a name, didn't want to know about it. Always thought that whoever it was could rot in hell for all I care. I called in a couple of favours and got a story, whether it's accurate or not I don't know.' He leant back in his chair waiting for the predictable response.

'Who gave you the information?' she asked.

'See, there it is. I just gave you a choice. You could've asked one of two questions: what information, or who was the source. Had you chosen to ask me about the information, you might have built enough rapport to reveal my source in a moment of weakness, although it's unlikely. But you chose a question that you know I won't answer. Shows a lack of understanding of your subject.'

Sarah blushed behind her coffee mug. Jay felt pleased with his preparation. He never forgot an interrogation. He had remembered her weakness, a slight tinge of red when she was lying or put in a difficult spot. It also proved she was still intimidated by him. He went to the kitchen, leaving her to recover some composure. He brought back two cans of scotch and dry and placed one in front of her. After pushing his near-full coffee aside, he opened his can and took a swig. 'You obviously need my help and I need yours,' he said, studying her movements as she opened her can. He was surprised she went for the scotch. It was a test. He didn't feel like drinking his, especially at that time of the day. But a good interrogator will do what they can, within reason, to build rapport. Accepting and drinking a scotch at that time of day is good rapport. She had gained his respect in that regard.

'I'm listening,' she said.

He told her the information he'd received about Lazarau and the missing links to the document in his father's computer. He didn't mention his own interrogation by the Primroses or the Sub Rosa tattoo. Sarah lounged in the chair opposite and drained her can. Jay raised his eyebrows, impressed.

'Lazarau is dead. Took a shank late last night in general population,' she said.

This wasn't in Jay's script. He took in the information before replying. 'Shit. What the hell were you lot thinking putting him in there?'

'I talked to him yesterday at our facility. We had no idea he was going to be moved.'

'By "we", I assume you mean the Agency?' he asked.

'Yes. We wouldn't have moved him until after the trial. The Deputy Director is looking into it as we speak.'

Jay smiled. 'Keith will be really happy about that. About time too. He's had a fairly smooth run as the Deputy Director until now.'

'I'm aware of your relationship with Deputy Director Harper and the Director. Which reminds me, both wanted me to give your dad their regards. Is he around?'

Jay gave a little nod. 'Dad talks to Patrick Goodwin all the time. If he wanted to say hello he would have called. They know he's not here and so do you. That's why I need your help. I've got no idea where he is and I need your resources to find him.'

She took her time to respond. 'I'll have to notify the Deputy Director first, but of course I'll offer you what I can,' she said.

The exact response Jay had expected. Never offer or promise a subject something you can't follow through with. 'Good. Let's make that official.' He took out his mobile and started dialling.

'Who are you calling?' she asked.

'Your Deputy Director.'

'Hold on, Jay. I should be the one calling him and I don't think this is the appropriate. . .'

'Do you have his personal number?' he asked.

'Well...'

'Shh, it's ringing. Here, you talk to him then.' He threw the phone across to Sarah, enjoying putting her on the spot.

The conversation between Sarah and Keith Harper lasted less than two minutes. Sarah briefed him on the situation and, from what Jay could hear, he assumed assurances were given that resources were available to help track down his father. Her eyes kept darting between the polished floorboards and Jay for the duration of the call. She hung up and placed the phone on the table.

'I'd appreciate it if you didn't pull that kind of shit again,' she said.

'I'm unpredictable like that. What did Keith say?'

'We work on this together. My lead. Comprende?'

'Sure. Where do you want to start, Agent Evans?'

'A strong coffee and we don't go anywhere until you tell me what happened to your hand.'

'I told you. Training.'

'No. I'm not going anywhere or starting anything to do with your father until you tell the truth. Every time I mention Lazarau, you grab for the bandage. Like you are now.'

Jay had put the bandage back on before Sarah arrived. He didn't know he was playing with it while they had been talking; however, he was impressed she had noticed.

He smiled. 'Touché.'