Читать книгу The Dragon's Skin - Ross Gray - Страница 12

He’d waited as long as he reasonably could, as long as politeness would allow. He always tried to squeeze as much time and as many words as possible between utterance of the two names. Then, hopefully, the inevitable reference would be overlooked.

‘Oh, and did I introduce Detective Sergeant Beverley Nunn?’ Detective Senior Sergeant Ian Buckley inquired artlessly.

He glanced at the aforesaid sergeant and could discern the pressure of her tongue in her downy cheek. The man in the chair showed no inkling that he had made the connection. Either didn’t get it, had a sophisticated sense of humour or didn’t give a damn.

Buckley cradled the notion that Beverley Nunn and he had not been tethered in partnership by accident. It was someone’s idea of a joke. It annoyed the hell out of him. He had a sense of humour, but this was irrespon­sible. It undermined their authority as soon as they identified themselves. Bev shrugged and said it was his problem. Call them Nunn and Buckley, she said. But that just appeared as if he was self-consciously avoiding the obvious and made it worse – in his opinion.

The man in the chair nodded and smiled at Beverley Nunn. They all smiled at Beverley Nunn – at first. She made Cate Blanchett look like the Wicked Witch of the West. In the nice cop nasty cop ploy, however, Bev was the nasty cop; but they kept that up their sleeves. It compensated some for the Buckley and Nunn handicap.

‘Thank you for coming in,’ said Buckley. They were in one of the less intimidating interview rooms in the Victoria Police Complex in St Kilda Road, but it was still severe in design and austere in furnishing. ‘We were willing to come to you.’

‘No trouble,’ their interviewee said amiably.

Most people didn’t like cops to be seen calling, but if they were in plain clothes, given a choice most would opt for a home ground advantage. But this one, maybe this was his home ground.

‘As I said on the phone,’ Buckley began. ‘Sergeant Nunn and I are from Ethical Standards. More or less the equivalent of IID in your day.’

‘I read the papers,’ he smiled.

‘We have been assigned to review police practice and procedure in the matter of the siege, and subsequent shooting, of Ben Bovell,’ Buckley continued. ‘This is routine in these circumstances, it isn’t a criminal investigation and you’re here as a friendly witness. Now I realise you know all this and may have participated in similar inquiries when you were a member of the police force.’ Buckley knew he had. A very big Internal Investigations Department investigation – shortly before he resigned. ‘But, as you know, I need to cover the formalities. It is your right to have legal advice if you wish, but this is an internal investigation of the behaviour of the police not of any civilians incidentally involved.’

There was no sign of anything other than calm patience in the blue eyes.

‘Our main concern is to learn as much as we can from the situation so we can improve procedures in the future,’ Buckley pressed on. ‘You will do no one any harm by being completely honest and candid.’

Completely honest – that was the thing. When Buckley went looking for background from someone who’d known this man back when, they’d shepherded him to Neville Marks in Homicide. Marks was supposed to know him better than most. They had been through the Academy together and were said still to have an association. He’ll tell you the truth and no­­thing but the truth – but if you want the whole truth you’ll have to ask all the right questions: that’s what Marks had said. Well here we go, thought Buckley.

‘Do you have any objection to our recording this interview? It will be used to ensure accuracy in our report.’

A small shake of the head. He flicked the switch and made the usual motherhood statement.

‘Would you state your name, please, and present address?’

He did so.

Buckley identified himself and Nunn for the benefit of the recording. ‘Mr Edge, David – may I call you David? Good – David, on July fourteenth you were contacted by an officer of the Special Operations Group who informed you of the situation at the day-care centre at one hundred and nine Curtin Street, Hawthorn, is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘The circumstances were clearly and fully explained to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘In particular, that Ben Bovell was in a hostage siege situation, threatening to take his life and that of his daughter and would not speak to anyone but you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you agreed to attend the scene and speak to Ben?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you feel that you were coerced or placed under undue moral pressure at any time?’

‘No.’

‘Were you made fully aware of the threat – the alleged bomb – how dangerous the situation was at the time, David?’

‘Yes, but, barring an accident, it wasn’t very dangerous for me.’

‘Why do you believe that?’

‘Ben Bovell is my friend and I believed he meant me no harm.’

‘Were you asked to approach the building?’

‘I suggested it.’

‘In hindsight, do you consider Senior Sergeant Collison behaved recklessly in allowing you to approach the building?’

‘Don was reluctant to take that step. But Ben would only talk face to face. I volunteered, and he knew I had the knowledge and experience to handle a situation like that. I would have done the same in Don’s position.’

But you’re a notorious taker of the left-hand way, thought Buckley. Never­theless he smiled. Someone from Police Media – who would be pleased with the answer – was watching. An unarmed man who was shot after he surrendered himself and his hostage was not good press. He didn’t glance at the video camera. But his interviewee did – with a small smile, not much more than a hook of dimple in cheek. So, everyone in the room knew they were under observation. No tricks now, Ian, only a straight bat will do.

‘You agreed to approach the building, find out what Bovell wanted and photograph the explosive device if he let you?’ Another affirmative. ‘But you entered the building?’ Affirmative. ‘Why?’

‘To photograph the bomb. And it’s what Ben would have expected of me.’

‘To put him at ease?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not to avoid exposing him to a sharpshooter?’

‘It had that advantage.’

Buckley grunted and cast a wry glance at Nunn. ‘So, it was your decision?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ben Bovell made a demand, but you didn’t reply to it at that time. Is that correct?’

‘I had agreed with the team that it would be look, listen and learn. The negotiator couldn’t get close, so they didn’t know exactly what they were dealing with.’

‘It’s been established that the first listening device you wore was faulty. But when it was to be replaced Don Collison intervened and ruled out wiring you. Is that how you remember it, David?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was there some agreement between you and Senior Sergeant Collison concerning the listening device?’

‘There were some things – of a personal nature – that I may have had to discuss or agree to in order to persuade Ben to give himself up. Don and I felt it was neither wise nor necessary to have them on the record.’

‘These things related to Ben Bovell’s – ah – odd demand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then, David, removal of the wire was a condition of your proceeding with negotiations?’

The blue eyes lazily rose to the camera and the comma curled in the cheek again. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Don knew I’d nobble it anyway, if he insisted.’ Buckley had no doubt that he gave the watchers what he knew they wanted.

Then his gaze slipped smoothly across to Beverley Nunn where she leaned casually – and with hip-thrusting provocation, Buckley thought – against the wall. He grinned at her with a sort of expectant invitation. Shit, thought Buckley, he’s waiting for the fat lady to sing. He knows who’s Kath and who’s Kim in this duo. If he wanted to draw her out he succeeded.

‘That’s where we have a problem, Mr Edge,’ Nunn said, pushing herself from the wall with her shoulder. ‘We only have your word about Bovell’s terms. And it was an exceedingly strange demand.’ She folded her arms beneath her breasts and paced in a tight circle rocking from heel to toe. ‘You’re asking us to believe that he hatched and carried out this elaborate plan to extract from you a promise? No action or proof, no guarantees, no unbreakable contract, no immunity from prosecution? What was he going to do, call the ACCC if you reneged on the deal?’ Her voice dropped an octave or two. ‘What do you want, Ben? I want you to delete someone from the electoral roll, Dave. For you, Ben, anything. You’re a good mate, Dave, can I go to gaol now?’ She spun on her heel and stood, hip cocked, eyes ablaze. Buckley lived for these moments. It was all the sex he got these days. ‘In fact, Mr Edge, held up to the light of logic, the whole scenario has the bone structure of a jellyfish.’ At this point, thought Buckley, he should demand what reason had he to lie.

‘True,’ Edge agreed reasonably.

Beverley Nunn was caught a little wrong-footed by the candour. She was approaching the table, but she stopped, feet as far apart as possible in her tight skirt, hands went to her hips. She gazed up under her brow and pursed her lips. Christ, she looked hot like that, thought Buckley.

‘I take it you have an explanation to offer?’ She was inviting Edge to dig a hole for himself and they all knew it. If he reached for his lawyer it would indicate something. Just what – Buckley wasn’t sure.

Edge said, ‘There wasn’t much rational logic in his actions. But then, he wasn’t acting rationally.’

‘That tautology doesn’t get us very far, does it, Mr Edge? Are you suggest­ing there’s another kind of logic we can employ?’

Buckley had his floorshow; he interposed: ‘Mr Bovell may be willing to shed light on his behaviour when he is able, but we have some points of fact to clear up here.’ Nunn retreated. Buckley addressed Edge. ‘You said,’ he referred to his notes, ‘something like, “Ben’s really focused today. He knows how this day is going to end.” You said this to Collison. Do you recall these words?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you mean by them at the time?’

‘I thought Ben was resolved to get what he wanted, or die trying.’

‘In hindsight, knowing the bomb was a fake, what do you think?’

‘I think I was wrong. He was resolved to die when he got what he wanted.’

Buckley sat back. He looked at Nunn, and couldn’t resist a glance toward the camera. ‘You’re implying a subtle and sophisticated plan, David.’

‘I underestimated Ben. And I second-guessed myself.’

‘Would you care to elucidate?’ said Nunn.

‘I’ve seen the faces of people who’ve made final and fatal decisions. Ben had the look. Exhilarated but at peace, wise, sad, but a little smug. But, I couldn’t believe he’d hurt Briette. That’s what made me doubt the bomb. I didn’t think he’d risk an accident with Brie around. On the other hand, I was sure he didn’t have a gun, how was he going to top himself? I assumed – if my gut was right – he planned to let Brie go with me, wait until we were clear and then blow himself up. Of course, in those situations, provoking police fire is always a possibility. That’s why I insisted we leave together. When he didn’t make a fuss I thought I’d let my imagination get the better of me.’

‘So,’ said Nunn. ‘He walks, he suddenly snaps, grabs the doll, runs to get clear of the girl, waving the doll like a gun, and bang, bang?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘He brought a black plastic unclothed doll with him. Perhaps to keep his daughter happy and distracted during the ordeal. Maybe guilty conscience. Perhaps it was an object with limitless versatility. But I tucked it into the bib of her overalls. Ben buttoned her coat up to the neck. He pulled the doll from his own pocket – not from Brie’s jacket. He must have known that in the heat of the moment no one would pick it for anything but a gun.’

‘You’re suggesting he brought the fire down on himself? It was his intention before he left the building?’

‘There were a lot of shiny new toys to distract a four-year-old in there. Why bring a cheap, secondhand, black doll?’

‘He was planning it right from the start?’ Nunn’s scepticism was almost palpable.

‘I badly underestimated him. I didn’t believe he was capable of lateral thinking.’

Before Beverley Nunn could press her agenda, Buckley said, ‘Well, as I said we can ask Ben Bovell about his plans and intentions if and when he’s fit for interview. However, from what you witnessed, am I correct in assuming that you have formed the opinion that the police were forced into a position where they had no choice but to open fire?’

‘Vision was poor. I knew what it was, and it looked like a gun to me. And Ben appeared intent on shooting Don.’

‘Senior Sergeant Collison?’

‘Yes.’

‘In other words, in circumstances forced upon them, the police used reasonable force?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is there anything you want to add, that our questions haven’t covered?’

‘No.’

From the corner of his eye Buckley could see Nunn taking a breath to launch a new assault. But they had what they wanted. ‘Thank you, David. Interview concluded at …’ He gave the time and flipped the switch on the machine.

Beverley Nunn stood over David Edge like Xena the Warrior Princess. ‘We have the what, when, where and how, Mr Edge, but they’ve found more fucking weapons of mass destruction in Iraq than we have reasons why, here.’

‘If you get to know Ben, Sergeant Nunn, you might find his motives have an internal logic – emotional, psychological. But you need to take the time to get to know him. Have you got the time?’

Nunn glared down at him. He absorbed the heat without discomfort. They both knew there weren’t enough hours in a copper’s day.

‘Then you’ll have to take my word, for now.’

Nunn wasn’t going to let go yet. ‘He called out something – when he pulled his stunt – to you. Two words. What were they? Nile thought it was a name.’

‘There were a lot of people yelling a lot of things.’

‘Look …’ Nunn bridled.

‘Any change in his condition, do you know?’ asked Buckley stepping between them verbally.

‘I’m not in the loop. The last I heard, he was too weak to risk an operation.’ This shut everyone up.

When he was gone Nunn said, ‘Fucking cold prick.’

‘Seemed to warm to you.’

She gave him the finger. ‘Jeezus, Ian, you don’t buy this bullshit – an elaborate, convoluted suicide plot? Do me a favour.’

‘We’ve got what we need, Bev. Physical evidence and material witnesses all concur. Textbook. Let’s us off the hook.’ He shrugged. ‘You heard him, have you got the time?’

She looked up under a wintry brow. ‘I wonder what he promised the poor little bastard.’

Buckley popped the tape from the machine. ‘According to Collison – everything.’