Chapter 34

Harry arrived at the Brisbane Mail expecting not only to be shown the door, but also to be thrown out of it. Or possibly through it. Redwood had had plenty of time to stew over the awards night debacle. Harry should have apologised sooner. He hoped this unexpected visit would smooth things over much better than a phone call or email could.

He waited at the front desk as the receptionist relayed his message. He was anticipating getting a ‘He’s not in’, or ‘He’s in a meeting’ or ‘Fuck off and die’. Instead, the security door at the side of the reception desk buzzed and Redwood himself appeared, smiling.

‘Harry Hendrick! Come on in.’

The smile caught Harry off guard, as did the invite. There was no need to go ‘on in’ anywhere. He could have delivered his apology quite easily in the foyer. But Redwood led Harry through the Brisbane Mail’s labyrinthine interior. Someone had strung up some tinsel on the walls. There was a plastic Christmas tree perched on a coffee table, but apparently the budget didn’t stretch to deco­rations. Harry wondered if Redwood was planning on taking him to the newsroom, so he could administer some public humiliation.

Instead, he opened the glass-panelled door to an old office. There had been a name once on the frosted glass, but it had been scratched off. The blinds were down. Harry walked in, Redwood followed.

Redwood flicked the light switch, and a dusty fluorescent bulb cast blue-white light on the room. There was a scarred desk, yellowing newspaper clippings on the wall. Some framed, some stuck with Blu Tack. An old push-button phone.

Redwood wasn’t quite so friendly once the door was closed.

‘What do you want?’ Redwood said.

‘I just came here to…’

‘Don’t fucking give me that,’ Redwood said. He was up in Harry’s face. Harry backed away and ended up against the desk. ‘What do you know?’

Redwood wasn’t angry. He was scared. Harry gave him a gentle shove. Redwood staggered back. Stayed back. Harry gestured to the chair. Redwood sat down.

‘Rob Johnson. He came to you with a story. Why didn’t you chase it?’

‘Are you writing something on this?’

‘Don’t fuck with me, Terry. Why didn’t you chase it?’

Redwood rubbed his face.

‘For Christ’s sake, Harry, this could ruin me! I’ve got a wife, two kids I’m trying to put through school.’

Harry felt sweat dripping off his body. The aftertaste of beer in his mouth made him feel nauseated. He said nothing. Sometimes that was better.

‘I don’t know what it’s like in your world, but when you work on a real paper, you can’t chase everything,’ Redwood said. ‘You have to pick and choose. Rob came to me, told me this crazy shit about Cardinal murdering people in Afghanistan. Do you know how insane that is? He’d just won preselection!’

‘You should have chased it.’

‘I did! I did, Harry. I made some inquiries with a contact in the ADF. He said Rob had gone off the rails after the Black Hawk crash. Was pissed off about the compo he got. Said he was involved with these shady characters.

‘And then I looked into that, and I found out that he was stalking various ADF personnel. That he had that woman of his – Kyla – trying to weasel information out of people. And yeah, that he’d been seen hanging out at that Stones Corner tattoo joint which, as you may or may not know, is popular with the Dreadnorts outlaw motorcycle gang.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’

Redwood licked his lips. ‘Harry. I can forgive and forget what happened on the awards night, if you can forget about this story.

‘Seriously, I’m doing you a favour here, buddy. You don’t want to disappear down that rabbit hole, I can assure you. Just go back to your Meals on Wheels and your Chermside Bowls Club yarns.’

Redwood seemed to be about to say something else, then got up, crossed the room and pulled the door open. ‘I’ve got work to do,’ he said.

Harry blinked. ‘So…you wanted to talk to me…and now you don’t?’

‘Come on, Harry. Or I’ll call security.’

Harry moved towards the door.

‘He had documents, Terry,’ Harry said. ‘Did you see them?’

Redwood said nothing. He didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. Fear. Finally, he shrugged.

‘Faked,’ Redwood said. ‘You should know all about that, right?’

Harry shook his head, walked past Redwood. ‘I thought you had guts, Terry,’ he said.

Redwood shook his head. ‘Fuck off, Harry,’ he said. ‘Stay away from me.’

***

Harry sat slumped on the lounge, exhausted, hamburger wrappers and a growing collection of empty stubbies by his feet. Soon to be joined by the half-full beer in his hand. The news was on the TV, but he wasn’t really seeing it. He was putting the pieces together in his mind. Making the connections, writing the story in his head. Figuring out what else he needed to make it work.

Andrew Cardinal appeared on the screen, and Harry forced himself to focus. Cardinal had arrived in Brisbane, ahead of tomorrow’s official campaign launch. His wife and three kids were waiting for him at the airport. He kissed Mrs Cardinal, picked up his youngest daughter and swung her around. It reminded Harry of the scenes of soldiers returning from Afghanistan. Just what the spin doctor ordered.

It seemed impossible that this man’s heart could be so dark and that he could hide such a side to his personality. Cardinal had killed people. With guns, with knives, with his bare hands. Harry stared at his own hands, thought about what Rob had done in Afghanistan.

Bad guys.

A gust of wind blew through the house. The back door slammed. Harry jumped.

‘But it’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it Rob?’

Harry’s phone chimed. Ron Vessel: We still on for tonight?

After the Vessel interview had gone to press, Harry had organised to meet him when he was back in Brisbane. He dragged himself off the couch, remembering his argument with Jess.

We’re better than that, Harry.