Damn. Not that he expected anything less. Sethanon was too canny to be caught by something as careless as a traceable phone number. "So, you kidnapped Wetherton, as directed. Were you also involved in the murder?"
"No. But Frank saw the copy standing over the real version after we delivered him."
"Did anyone know Frank saw this?"
"No. And we were being well paid, so silence comes as part of the package."
"This delivery…Was it to an abandoned apartment building on Rathdown Street?"
It was a loaded question in many respects, and Mohern answered it blithely. "Yeah. How'd you find him?"
"We know because we've been tracking the minister 's whereabouts for some time. I guess you didn't find the tracer when you tried to dump the body, did you?"
"So that's how you were able to escape." He stopped, as if suddenly realizing what he was admitting, and then shrugged.
"Jack was really pissed off about you getting away that day."
"Why?"
"Because he got his ass kicked by the big man."
So it was Sethanon who'd wanted him beaten but alive that day. Interesting. As was the fact they'd been heading up the Dandenongs. Surely that would mean their enemy had a compound up on that mountain somewhere, and yet the many searches since had provided little in the way of anything suspicious. "How'd you get paid for that job?"
"Cash."
"Who were the other two men there?"
Mohern shrugged again. "They were there to deliver the cash and collect the body. When you were spotted, we were asked to help stop you."
"Who asked? The two men, or someone else?"
"Voice on the phone. He said it would take more than two to stop you." He paused. "You broke Frank's nose, you know."
"Frank was lucky I didn't break his damn neck." Not that it would have mattered. Frank died not long after, probably killed by the man they'd both trusted.
"So, if you didn't see this man at either event, why are you so sure that he's behind both Wetherton's kidnapping and Douglass's murder?"
"Because we've got ears. The voice of the man who gave us the job was the same voice in the murdered chick's apartment."
No wonder Sethanon wanted this man dead—Mohern could identify him by voice and had seen at least two of his identities. As the sound of a footstep carried on the wind, he glanced around and saw agent Briggs and three other SIU officers—one of them a medic—making their way through the muck. He pointed to his still-alive captive, and then returned his attention to Mohern. "Are you sure about all this?"
Mohern nodded. "When her murder was reported in the newspaper, I knew she had to be another copy, because Frank and I had been in the apartment when she was killed."
"So you didn't actually see her murder?"
"Didn't have to. We heard the screams, as well as him wrapping the bits of her up. We checked later, of course, just to see." He sniffed. "She was a pretty thing."
A pretty thing who happened to be in the way of Sethanon's plans. "So how were you able to get into a secure building, and how come you weren't caught?"
He grinned. "Mate of ours was the night watch. He gave us the codes for a share of the profits. We only took little things, things that were valuable but weren't likely to be immediately missed. It's quite a profitable scam in a building like that." He stopped, as if suddenly remembering he was talking to a man who was basically a cop. He cleared his throat and shrugged. "As to how we escaped detection, I think it came down to luck. Our mate called us when Douglass entered the building, so we had time to hide. No one expected us to be there, so no one bothered checking for intruders."
"So how did you see the murderer moving about?"
"We were hiding in the guest bathroom. I saw him through the crack between the door and the frame."
"Give me his descriptions."
Mohern did. Gabriel wasn't surprised to discover that the identity used to gain entrance to the apartment matched the description of one General Blaine. But it was nasty to discover that the second identity was that of a scruffy man with brown hair so thick and scraggly that his face couldn't be seen, giving him the appearance of someone more bear than human. Only he was a bear who walked with military precision.