The Recipient (28 page)

Fear plagued her. Her breath quickened.

Snatching her phone up in her hand, Josephine desperately navigated to the call screen for her husband. She prepared to dial but, as she attempted to thumb the green handset icon, the car nudged her more violently this time and she fumbled with the device. It clattered to the floor on the passenger side out of view.

Instinctively, Josephine stamped her foot down on the accelerator in an effort to create some distance between her and the vehicle but the stranger followed suit, closing the distance between them. Despite the fact they were on a major arterial, with the city's skyline growing more prominent ahead of them, there were no other cars in their immediate vicinity that she could see.

Suddenly, the vehicle pulled out from behind her and accelerated, matching her speed as it drew alongside her.

Panicked, Josephine stared through her window.

A burgundy sports car, the familiar symbol of BMW emblazoned on its grille. The car's windows were darkened, reflecting the street lamps in them. She couldn't see through them to identify the driver.

The car swerved threateningly toward her, forcing her to react and wrench her own vehicle away from it.

“What are you doing?” she screamed at it. Her heart was pounding as she fought to maintain control.

Almost as if her question had some effect, the car dropped away, decelerating into the distance behind her.

I've gotta get off this road
.

Seeing an exit ramp up ahead, Josephine gripped the steering wheel harder and kept her eyes forward. She would wait until the very last moment and swerve onto the ramp before the other car had a chance to react.

Adjusting her rear-vision mirror, Josephine searched for the other car and found it, continuing to shrink in the distance. She realised then that she hadn't thought to try and identify its registration plate.

The exit ramp rushed up to meet her and, letting her foot off the accelerator, she allowed the car to slow without tapping the brake. She swerved onto the ramp and looked back.

The other car didn't follow.

Confused and frightened, Josephine braked as she came to an intersection, then she turned right crossing an overpass.

Looking left as she did so, she spotted the other car continuing on towards the city.

She raised her hand to her chest and exhaled raggedly, feeling herself beginning to calm.

“What the fuck was that about?”

Looking down to the floor on the passenger side, Josephine spotted her phone laying in view. Ensuring there were no other vehicles around her, she unclipped her seatbelt and prepared to reach for it.

Her car gave a sudden lurch and began to accelerate—despite the fact that her foot was resting on the brake pedal.

Abandoning the phone, Josephine sat bolt upright, grabbing the steering wheel once more as she stomped on the brake pedal. Nothing happened. The car continued to gather speed.

She grabbed at the gear shift lever and attempted to move it to neutral but the lever wouldn't budge. It was completely stuck.

Josephine screamed and began to hyperventilate. She fumbled with her seatbelt, then abandoned it in favour of trying to turn the key in the ignition.

Nothing happened.

The sedan rocketed past one hundred kilometres per hour as it raced along towards a set of traffic lights whose orbs had just flicked to amber.

In anguished panic, Josephine stamped down as hard as she could on the brake pedal once more but the car still refused to respond. Out of control, it raced through the intersection, causing cars approaching from either side to screech and swerve to avoid hitting both it and each other.

Josephine glanced down in terror at the speedometer.

130…140…150…

The engine was squealing now, drowning out her own terrified screams.

Something rattled underneath her and the car responded by jerking crazily. Her hands could no longer control the car and somewhere in her terror, she knew.

Suddenly, there was a twisting of metal from somewhere inside the engine. A shower of sparks erupted from underneath the car and through the gaps in the bonnet.

As her sedan hit two hundred kilometres per hour, flames erupted from the engine bay and began consuming the vehicle as it lurched violently to the left.

Josephine pulled her eyes from the fire before her and grew wide as a light pole rushed up to meet her.

The sedan ploughed into the pole and exploded in a brilliant conflagration of light and fire and screaming metal.

CHAPTER 28.

C
asey crossed the street opposite the Blue Heeler Bar and approached the side door. Slipping inside, she tentatively scanned her surroundings. Though the atmosphere was still quiet, it was steadily filling with after-five patrons, office types mainly, calling by for a drink on their way home from work.

One of the barmen recognised her as she entered and nodded, then frowned, realising that he'd never seen her this early in the evening.

Approaching him, Casey pointed to her left and up the stairs. “Is he in yet?”

The barman nodded. “He hasn't started his shift yet. He's having a bite to eat.”

Thanking him with a thumbs-up, Casey turned and ascended the stairs to the rooftop. Sasquatch was sitting in his favoured spot near the corner bar. Armed with a sharp knife and fork, he was cutting into a large porterhouse steak while watching a TV at the bar. He looked up as she approached, his expression similar to that of the barman downstairs.

“Have you had a joint already?” he remarked gruffly as she pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.

“What's that supposed to mean?” she retorted, plucking a morsel of steak he had just cut from his plate and popping it into her mouth.

Scott flashed her a hurt expression but then he flushed pink, realising what he'd just blurted out. “Sorry. It's just that it's still daylight. It's not like you to be out and about this early.”

Casey dismissed his observation and nodded to a young woman behind the bar who held up a beer in her hand, offering it in silent question.

“It's not like me to be doing a lot of things lately.”

Noticing that Scott was distracted, she followed his line of sight towards the TV screen.

“What are we watching?”

Scott almost blushed at the question.

“Family Feud,” he admitted under his breath. “The news will be on in a minute.”

Smirking, Casey took her notebook from her bag and set it down on the table. She took out the Pleasant Festival photo and slid it across the table top. “Could I get you to look at something for me?”

Scott licked his fingers, then wiped his hands on a napkin. He took the photograph from her and examined it. He grinned mischievously, giving Casey a clear indication that he was ogling the girls lounging against the vehicle.

“Nice car,” he commented through a mouthful of food.

“Trust you,” Casey countered sarcastically. The woman from the bar stepped up to the table and put an ice-cold beer bottle in front of Casey.

Taking a swig, Casey kept looking at him. She was waiting for the penny to drop which, after several moments, it finally did.

His chewing stopped. His eyes narrowed, then went wide. He reached for the pair of glasses which dangled from the collar of his T-shirt and shoved them into place. His breath caught when he recognised Saskia and then again as the detail of the car in the image came into focus.

“Wait a minute, is
this
the car you have been talking about? Holy shit.”

Casey nodded.

“How did you get this?”

“What can you tell me about it?” Casey asked, ignoring his question. “You know cars better than just about anyone I know.”

Shifting his dinner plate to one side, Scott set the photo down between them.

“Audi. 2011,” he began. Bringing it closer to him, he ran his finger across the left-hand headlight, then back along the side where a single door was partially visible. “Coupe. Titanium package.”

With the focus of a scientist examining a microscopic specimen, he scanned back along the front, stopping over the registration plate that was partially obscured by Saskia's leg.

He squinted. “Victorian plate. Definitely a Victorian plate…first letter looks like a ‘W.' Pity about her le…”

Suddenly, he went silent.

“What is it, Scott?” Casey asked him urgently.

He appeared surprised. “It's an S5,” he said.

Casey frowned, shrugging her shoulders. “An S5?” she echoed. “That's…
what
is that exactly?”

“That,” Scott said, wiping his goatee. “Is high end, and worth some serious coinage. A hundred thousand before you even consider putting it on the road.”

“Okay, so it's an expensive car. There are a lot of expensive cars on the road.”

Scott shook his head rapidly. “No, no. Not like this. This isn't the sort of vehicle that just runs out of a showroom. This is special, reserved for a particular kind of buyer.”

“A particular kind of buyer?”

“Someone who treats their vehicles like a work of art.”

Casey frowned and sipped her beer. “Well, that's good, Scott, but it's still akin to searching for a needle in a haystack.”

This time Scott chuckled. “I don't think you're getting me. This is a 2011 Audi S5 coupe with a Victorian plate.”

Casey leaned in close to the table top. “Right?”

“Right—and the thing is, there were probably less than sixty of these sold in Victoria at that time. If you're looking to narrow things down a bit, I would bet my house that, of those sixty, a good portion of them are still garaged here in the city. All the police would have to do is run a search through Vic Roads and see which of these cars were sold and registered at that time. They could probably pinpoint the very car even with this obscured plate.”

Casey's expression melted into a grin. “Just like that, huh?”

Scott winked. “Just like that.”

He watched Casey as her eyes wandered. She became thoughtful.

“You're not going to go to the police, are you.” It was less a question than it was a statement.

Casey smiled at him. Plucking the image from his hand, she stood and downed the remainder of her beer in one gulp.

As she did so, Casey glanced absently at the TV screen as a news bulletin flashed on and the image of a woman's face appeared on screen.

A familiar face.

Casey's grip on the beer bottle slackened and she almost dropped it. The colour drained from her face.

“What is—”

“Turn that up,” Casey snapped.

Scott reached for the remote control beside him and pointed it at the screen, bringing up the volume of the news reader's voice.

“
Police remain at the scene of last night's horrific single-vehicle motor accident that took the life of thirty-four-year-old Josephine Catea. So far, they have spoken to a number of witnesses who were in the vicinity of the accident and our sources understand that they have told authorities the vehicle was travelling at high speed immediately before the crash.
”

Casey advanced slowly towards the screen as the news reader continued.

“
Ms. Catea was a federal government employee in the Department of Immigration & Border Protection. It is unclear at this time whether Federal Police will be assisting with inquiries
.”

Scott looked worried now. “What is it, Case?”

Slowly, Casey turned. Her jaw was slack. She was clearly in shock.

“It's her.”

“Her who?” Scott responded urgently. He stood and stepped sideways, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Casey pressed a hand to her forehead and turned on her heel.

“Scott, I've gotta go. I-I'll be in touch, okay. I've gotta do something.”

___

Lionel was in the kitchen, preparing dinner when the door rumbled aside and Casey stumbled in.

He turned as she entered. Her face was ashen, her expression taut.

“Have you seen the news?” Casey blurted as she marched across to the TV remote and thumbed the power switch.

Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Lionel came over as Casey changed the station to an all news channel. They were still covering the story.

“It's her, Pa. It's Josephine Catea.”

“Josephine who?”

“The woman whose ID card I cloned,” Casey retorted, her voice shaking fearfully. “I used her credentials to hack into the Flaxley database.”

They watched as the newsreader recounted similar details to the story Casey had seen at the bar.

“Surely, this is just a coincidence,” Lionel gulped softly.

Casey levelled a glower at him. “Do you really think that, after what we've discovered?”

Lionel frowned, sensing his granddaughter was right.

Casey continued to watch the TV, noticing that the story had been expanded to include new footage of uniformed Victorian Police milling about at the accident scene along with a fire crew and a lone ambulance. It was being ushered through a cordon where the public had gathered and were watching on.

“This is my fault,” Casey gasped. “This is all my fault.”

A reporter on the scene was interviewing several lookers-on, then the camera switched back to the smoking ruin of the car, still wrapped around the light post. At that moment, Casey spotted Prishna Argawaal, engaged in what appeared to be a tense exchange between herself, two of her own colleagues and three dark-suited men.

Prishna's eyes met the camera lens for the briefest of moments. Casey could see her expression.

Anger. Frustration.

One of the dark-suited men held out his arms on either side and began ushering Prishna away from the scene. A new group of uniformed officers converged on the car in their place. Prishna appeared to protest but the camera operator jerked away from the scene as one of the dark suits tried to block the lens with his palm.

Casey's eyes narrowed.

“Something's wrong.” Grabbing the remote, Casey aimed it at the screen and paused the live footage, just as the man's hand obscured the camera lens. Casey scrolled backwards slightly until she paused it on the final clear image of Prishna.

An idea began to foment.

Turning to the workstation, Casey grabbed her smartphone and scrolled through her phone book.

“What are you going to do?” Lionel asked with mounting concern.

Casey nodded at the TV screen. “Something that is probably totally crazy,” Casey remarked.

Holding the phone up so that Lionel could see, she leaned forward. Lionel read the name of the contact Casey had highlighted.

Prishna.