present something he already knew the answer to. But he was left with no other choice.
“You sound like you have everything under control,” Pops said. “My viewing of the Banks file shouldn’t disrupt your plans.”
Spader didn’t even look at him.
“You may not view the file,” Spader said after a long, humiliating moment of silence.
“Detective Spader,” Pops managed, “do I need to remind you of the rank structure in the New South Wales Police Force?”
“Apologies.” Spader looked at the chief. “You may not view the file, sir. Deputy Commissioner Woods has it with him. He considers the information in it of the utmost confidentiality.”
Pops glanced around the audience of officers near them.
“Detective Spader,” he said carefully, “have you ever heard the expression ‘switching horses midstream’?”
“Of course,” Nigel said, a little too fast. Pops waited, but Nigel gave no indication of knowing why Pops had mentioned the old proverb. The chief turned on his heel, giving Nigel a look that he hoped communicated a promise that he would not forget the exchange they’d just shared.
The old man jangled his keys to the rhythm of his steps as he made his way down to the reception area of the command-center office and over to the front desk, where a young woman in a patrol officer’s uniform was waiting for him.
“I couldn’t get a phone number, but here’s the address,” the young officer said, handing Pops a folded slip of paper. “Judge Edgar Boscke.”
Chapter 62
THE PHONE IN my pocket buzzed. Regan. He had called a dozen times while I slept at Melina’s house, and twice more since I hit the road. I could almost feel his rage through the phone, a pulsing heat that seemed to make the phone hot to the touch. I took a breath and waited for the ringing to stop.
Before me, the dense bushland bordering the Bombala River, wet grass leading to reeds at the edge of the water.
I had pulled the bike over and entered the park after miles of fast, dangerous riding, the highways clear now of roadblocks looking for us. My face and neck were spattered with cold rain, and my socks were damp. Maybe by bringing the bike to death-defying speeds, taking corners at suicidal angles, I had been trying to tempt God, or fate, or whatever the hell was in control, to shut down my pursuit of Regan. If I was taken out of the game in an accident, I wouldn’t have to face that terrible act, the one I knew was coming. The moment I would cross over and deliberately, with coldhearted planning, end a life.
I don’t know what made me finally give in. But I picked up the phone as it started buzzing again and pushed the answer button.
“When I call, you answer,” he said. His voice was smooth, quiet. But the danger was there. He sounded tired, slightly puffed, as though being unable to contact me had drained his physical strength.
“Or what?” I laughed. “You don’t have any leverage over me left. You don’t get to make demands when you’re killing off the people who mean something to me. I don’t have to participate in your bullshit.”
“You could have made it easier on some people by cooperating,” he said.
I crouched by the bike as my knees became weak. Who were these people, and what had Regan done to them? Or was he talking about something he was about to do, a plan now set in place that I could have talked him out of if I’d answered my phone? Across the river, a couple were taking a lunchtime stroll along the riverbank. I took my gun from my bag and actioned it, hardly daring to look in case I saw the inevitable shape of him appearing from the tree line, heading toward them. There would be nothing I could do but scream for help, fire aimlessly, hoping to scare him off. My breath caught in my chest even as I tried to sound calm.
“I’m outside the Bombala Town Hall,” I lied. “Come get me.”
“No, not yet, Harry.”
“When, motherfucker?” I snapped. “How long do you think I’m going to keep playing this game? What if I just stop answering? What if I hand myself in?”
“You won’t.”
“You really sure about that?”
“I know you, Harry.”
“You don’t know jack shit. You’re a disease. You only know how to infect and consume things.”
“I know you’re frustrated. But the time is coming. This is all a process. You need to just let go.” He gave a small laugh,