It was a week before I was left to get on with my life. Maggie and the children had stayed on with Anna while I was away. She’d called her in-laws as soon as Powers was apprehended. They’d been devastated by Ken’s death and felt terrified and ultimately betrayed by his family’s disappearance.
As next of kin they’d had to hold his funeral alone but once they knew the facts had accepted Maggie’s heartfelt apologies. They agreed to join Maggie and the children at a memorial service in Tumbarumba as soon as it could be organised.
A few days after I got home I felt a shift in my relationship with Maggie. She was my sister but thirteen years had changed both of us. Me most. I was a grown man but Maggie hadn't seen the changes so I was still nineteen to her. I was lumped in with Kayla and Zoe in her mind and while I hid it, it rankled.
Or maybe I didn't hide it too well. Anna picked it up. In between all her stuff, building, teaching the little boys to ride, coaching the girls and Trent and arranging a mate for the llama's, she flagged my frustration.
`She so wants it to be back to normal, Harry. Give her time to understand that what was there for you two has changed. That old normal's gone but she's got enough to grieve over right now. Don't make her mourn the old you. Not yet.'
How a woman who had so few relationships in her life got so wise, I'd never know. But she was right. Time was what Maggie needed.
One evening we were leaning on the fence watching Zoe show her stuff on Billy. `She wants to be a jockey, you know.'
`Really?'
`Yes. She's always been very good with horses and this time with racehorses has…inspired her.'
`But racing? In the industry? It's very tough.'
`When she was quite small she saw that girl win the Melbourne Cup so it's not new. It's just that riding thoroughbreds has never been possible. But you have to admit she's good.'
`Yes, but as a profession?'
`I know. We'll see.' She looked up at the mountains. `It’s so beautiful up here, Harry, if I didn't have other plans, I'd be tempted to stay.'
Other plans? That jolted me. I hadn't thought she'd get there this soon. I hadn't begun to think how she could build a new life. An open life instead of a counterfeit one, forever having to be alert to not betraying herself. Where her children would know their true family history. Tumbarumba probably wasn't an option now. How do you tell the people you've lived with for thirteen years as one person that you're not that person?
I finally got back to the office. A few short phone calls with no explanations were all they'd got early on so when I arrived back there was awed silence. It didn't last.
Greg took me aside after the flock dispersed. `You might have told me,' he said, looking hurt.
`How? I had the cops, the feds, everyone after me. Some wanted to kill me. Do you think they'd have stepped aside for you? Please Greg, be happy I'm still alive, I am. And when we all get together, Amy, me and you if you're in, we'll have a fucking boomer of an exposé going here.'
I slapped him on the back and headed for my office. As I expected there was a pile of invitations to speak to a raft of people who no longer wanted to hear anything I had to say about my film on Kashmir. I tipped them all in the trash.
Over the next weeks there was silence about the entire affair. I heard from colleagues, friends and North, when I pestered him, that it was now a national security issue. The only real information came from Anna's barrister friend, Maurice Allardine, who knew everyone in high places it seemed.
He visited us on the farm and with all the glee of an elderly gossip, filled us in on the doings in Canberra, Victoria and other places that Powers' tentacles had reached.
Jon Agar, who had been charged with murdering Roddy Grant, was singing loud and long. He was implicating everyone. Powers, Altenbach, senior police, and every politician he could think of, guilty or not. He was so eager that he was offered a plea deal just to shut him up.
`But,' said Allardine, `he will still spend a long time in jail.'
There were a number of resignations across all sections of politics. The flurry of activity within a year of elections had both parties scrambling. The conservatives were the hardest hit. Powers' authoritarian aims and the association with Richmond made sure of that. The politicians who had gone along with Richmond, particularly those who had not been extorted or threatened, were invited by their party to rethink their positions as well. Enough of this came into public view to give the Opposition party a field day.
`They'd have to kill the Queen to lose the next election,' said Allardine, laughing.
There was a larger than usual number of police retirements and resignations over the next couple of months. I guessed some rogues were charged but that didn't hit the headlines either. Jerry Carney often rang me asking about what the cops were doing but I left it to him to speculate, on and off air.
North told me that it was likely that a Royal Commission over police corruption in Victoria was likely. I'd believe that when I saw it. Embarrassment has a habit of making causes fade away.
As for Powers. He'd disappeared. Neither North nor Allardine nor anyone Allardine knew which was everybody, had heard anything about his fate.
`Could he be dead, do you think?' I asked.
`The powers that be, sorry, probably wish he was. But who knows? The chances of him coming to trial are zero I'd say,' said Allardine over dinner.
`That makes me sick,' said Anna. `They've probably punted him off to somewhere overseas where he'll live in luxury unless he tries to come back. Exile means the murdering swine gets away with it.'
`Maybe, maybe not. But he'll never come home if that's what's happened.'
`I don't think that bastard has a home.'
`You think he did all that because he doesn't feel Australia's his home?' asked Allardine. `No, he did it because in his distorted mind he felt he could make it a better place. That his ideas were superior to everyone else's and his unique vision was what would make his country truly great.'
`You sound as if you've been talking to him,' said Anna. A corner of Allardine's mouth lifted in a tiny smile. `You have.'
`Have I? All megalomaniacs think like that and the worst thing that can happen to one is that he, or she, fails. And Powers has failed. He'll have to face that for the rest of his life.'
`Well, I'd prefer he had to face it in jail and not in some fancy luxury fucking villa somewhere, that's all.'
`Maybe he will.'
Allardine's face registered nothing as both Anna and I stared at him. Then he smiled and raised his glass.
`To absent enemies.'