Carol looked around the light-filled penthouse suite. She didn’t want to be in this debriefing session for Marla. She wanted to be outside in the sun and wind, to be with her son and his innocence, to ignore mean thoughts and petty jealousies, to escape from the knowledge that irrational hatred could transform ordinary people into avenging killers who were persuaded that they were beyond the law because they were carrying out the will of an unmerciful God.
Her glance circled the table: Anne Newsome, sitting alert and silent; Pam Boyle, folded awkwardly into her chair; Sid Safer, lounging nonchalantly, coat and knees open; Gary, fingers tapping an impatient tattoo; Denise relaxed and cheerful. Nearby Marla, her arm in a sling, reclined on a sofa positioned so she could look out at the activity on the harbor.
“So,” said Denise, “we’ve established that Wellspring had ambitions to become an international conspiracy, taking its foot soldiers from fundamentalist religious organizations involved in what they see as a righteous fight against abortion, gay rights and feminism. Wellspring’s leaders had rather wider political ambitions—the pursuit of power. And the rising tide of fundamentalism encouraged them to make conservatives their constituency.” She gestured towards Carol. “I’m embarrassed to admit that both the Feds and ASIO failed to finger Joseph Marin, the leader of the Australian faction. His network included like-minded individuals such as Cynthia and Keil Huntling and extended to the most extreme right-wing groups, though the majority of them had no idea how violent Wellspring could really be.”
“So you were right, Carol.” Sid Safer’s voice held no pleasure. “You got lucky.”
There was malice in Denise’s smile. “Nose out of joint, Sid? Surprised someone in the State police force could out-think you? Or is it the fact that it’s a woman?”
Marla turned her head to say, “Perhaps Sid’s upset because Carol’s a gay woman, as well.”
“That’s bullshit!”
Marla swung her feet to the floor. “I’ve overheard you say a few things, Sid, especially to Gary. ‘Dyke’ was probably the nicest word you used.”
Sid looked at her stonily. “It’s a free world, Marla. I can say what I like.” He sat back, arms folded.
“You’re a dinosaur, Sid,” said Denise pleasantly, “and you can’t become extinct too soon.”
Marla, her face white and pinched, slid carefully onto an empty chair between Anne and Pam. “I want to know about Bev. I would have trusted her with my life.”
At a glance from Carol, Anne shuffled her notes and said formally, “Beverly Diaz had a family history of alcoholism and she was terrified she was going to repeat the self-destructive pattern she’d seen in her mother. She attended AA meetings and joined a support group for the families of substance abusers. Then she heard of drug and alcohol clinics run by the Church of God’s Desire and admitted herself to a residential program in one, becoming very involved in the workings of the church itself. Being intelligent, but emotionally vulnerable and obsessive, she was excellent material for indoctrination. She’s given us full details of how she was recruited, trained and sent undercover to infiltrate Strickland Enterprises. Because she had a genuine history of success in management positions, she had no trouble being hired.” Anne looked up at Marla. “For what it’s worth, she said she grew quite fond of you and had some regret that she had to kill you.”
“A comfort.” Marla attempted a smile.
“It was all planned well ahead,” said Carol. “Bev subtly pushed Huntling Security as a company to be supported because it was owned by a woman, although she made sure it was Pam Boyle who negotiated a contract. In Australia she played out a scene with Keil Huntling for my benefit, where she challenged him about costs. Having Huntling Security involved wasn’t essential to Wellspring, but was desirable because it meant that Marla’s movements would always be known, including which car she’d be traveling in as she went to and from engagements. A ring-in Huntling guard planted the mock bomb at Sydney University while apparently doing a security check. Apart from that, being involved in security arrangements gave unrestricted access to Marla, although it had been decided that her execution was to be a very public affair.”
Gary stretched his interlocked fingers until they cracked. “Bev couldn’t have thought there was any way she’d escape from the TV studio. She was stupid to try to get Marla there.”
Pam stared at him from across the table, her dislike clear. “It should be obvious, even to you, Gary, that Bev wanted to kill Marla on national television because she believed it would be seen as a judgment and then a public execution. She let the program run long enough for Lucas Britt to condemn her, then Bev tried to carry out the sentence.”
He snorted scornfully. “She had to be off her head. Who wants to get caught red-handed like that?”
“Bev did. Because she knew the media would go wild over her trial, which could then be used as a platform to broadcast Wellspring’s beliefs. Bev saw herself as a martyr, Gary. Something you’d never understand.”
Carol looked at Pam thoughtfully. You have the stuff of martyrs in you—that combination of personal arrogance and total subservience to a set of beliefs.
Marla fingered her throat. “Carol, that dagger. I dream about it…”
“Your leather folder was made with a hollow spine so that the blade would fit into it,” said Carol. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, but you’d mentioned that the folder was a gift from your staff. There was no reason for you to know that Bev had not only suggested the gift, but helpfully supplied it.”
Marla looked stricken. “She knew how she would kill me, that far ahead? But she worked for me…We were friends…”
There was little comfort Carol could give, but she said, “Try and see Bev as a skilled actor, playing a part to achieve something she totally believed in. She was very convincing, even confronting me with demands that Madeline Shipley favor you during the debate with Lucas Britt. And she was deliberately secretive about her attendance at AA meetings, knowing we would check back and find she had a genuine reason to be there. It was all part of the role she was playing for Wellspring.”
“Bev seemed to believe all the things I stand for.” Marla bit her lip. “How could she have fooled me so well?”
“And me.” Pam Boyle’s voice was as bitter as her face. “The bitch fooled me, too.”
Carol knew they both felt betrayed at a deeply personal level. She said to Marla, “Remember what Anne told you. Bev liked you as a person—the Marla Strickland she tried to kill was the outspoken feminist the public knew.”
“But with a knife—”
“Bev knew from past experience that you, as the potential target, would not be searched. The weapon had to be something that could be completely concealed, yet easy to get at when needed.”
Carol’s tone was businesslike. “The blade is thin tempered steel, and razor-sharp. It fits the hollow spine of your folder exactly and during the commercial break she slipped it out to conceal in her clothes while she was showing you information she said you needed.”
Marla shook her head. “I know you’re telling me the truth, Carol, but I can’t believe it.”
“It was planned to the last detail,” said Carol grimly. “There was no room in the spine of the folder to fit a dagger with a handle, so Bev wound layers of cloth tape around the blunt end of the blade to have a non-slip grip.”
“She is insane, isn’t she?”
“Not legally. No.”
Sid sat forward to put his elbows on his spread knees. “Why don’t you tell Marla why you were chosen as her bodyguard?” His tone was unpleasant. “You’ve forgotten to mention that.”
“Because Carol’s a lesbian,” said Pam. She said the last word as though it had a nasty taste.
“Lesbian,” Denise repeated, “is a fascinating word that always gets a strong response. The radical right uses gay or lesbian as shorthand terms for abominable and unnatural—and excitingly sinful—behavior. And having Marla with a high profile bodyguard who was open about her sexuality equaled guilt by association—Marla was proud to call herself a feminist—maybe she was worse! Maybe she was queer, too.”
Carol looked at Sid’s implacable face. He was jealous of her success and threatened by her sexual identity. She was abruptly conscious of her physical self. Her side ached, the slash across her cheek burned under the dressing, her arm throbbed.
Suddenly she wanted to be somewhere else—anywhere else. She needed Aunt Sarah’s acceptance…the love of her son…
The phone on the bar rang. Pam went to answer it. “It’s for you.” She held out the receiver to Carol.
Let it be Madeline.