Part 11 (2/2)

2609 0906 57J WF 06584 04470 046.

There were hundreds of lines like that, all following the same format with slight variations to the digits.

'Is it some sort of computer code?'

'No idea. My expert hasn't a clue.' Anna sounded flat. After going to so much trouble to get the notebook, this was obviously a major disappointment.

'You were expecting the names of the guilty parties,' I said. 'But I told you before, things like that only happen in books. This could be data on anything-tides, weather, bird migrations, buried treasure ...'

'Buried treasure?'

'I'm joking.'

'Ha ha.'

'I'm sorry, but what could we realistically have expected?'

A harrowing account of the breakdown of a wonderful young woman after she was heartlessly ditched by a slimebag called Josh Ambler, I thought. I couldn't tell Anna how very relieved I was to see those meaningless data strings.

'So what now?' I saw the waiter approaching. 'Let's order.'

We picked the day's pasta special, then Anna said, 'I suppose you had lots of holidays when you were in London.'

'Sure, cheap flights everywhere-St Petersburg, Istanbul, New York. Lots of places. How about you?'

'I haven't had a holiday in three years.'

'Really? You must need a break.'

'That's what I was thinking. Some island getaway.'

'Aha,' I said, suddenly cautious. 'Sounds interesting. Would you go on your own?'

'It'd be more fun if I could persuade somebody else to come along. Even if I haven't got big lips and a yellow bikini.'

'You could always get that-the bikini, I mean.'

'And I might even do a bit of climbing, if I had a partner.'

'That's possible. No breaking and entering, though.'

'Agreed.'

'I don't think Damien would approve.'

'Well, I wasn't planning on inviting him.'

'You know, I always wondered about that night at the Hibernian Hotel. How did it turn out for you?'

She looked impa.s.sively at me. 'Josh, there are some questions a gentleman doesn't ask.'

When I got home after dropping Anna in Blacktown, Mary met me with a happy smile.

'Your friend Damien rang up half an hour ago. Such a charming young man. We had a good chat.'

'That's nice. I wonder why he didn't ring my mobile.'

'No, it was me he princ.i.p.ally wanted to talk to.' Mary sounded quite flirtatious.

'Really? What about?'

'He and his wife wanted to invite us both to dinner, and he was worried I might not be able to take an evening off from the hotel.'

'Good point.'

'But I said it wasn't a problem. We're going tomorrow, is that all right with you?'

'Well, yes, fine.'

12.

The next evening I realised I didn't know where Damien lived, and asked Mary if he'd given her his home address. She said yes and named a new apartment tower in The Rocks, overlooking Circular Quay. I whistled. 'Prime real estate.'

'It does sound rather grand, doesn't it? On the twenty-eighth floor.'

We drove down there, and I found a parking meter not far from the address. It was a spare, elegant tower with tiers of curved balconies disappearing up into the night sky. At the gla.s.s doors I rang the number Damien had provided and his voice gave a tinny but affable welcome. He buzzed us in, and the door clicked open. Inside we gazed up in awe at the scale of the lobby, three storeys of s.p.a.ce with bridges and balconies supported on slender creamy concrete columns, more like the foyer of a theatre or art gallery than a block of flats. A gla.s.s swimming pool was cantilevered out above our heads, so that we could look up at the pale belly of a figure stroking through the green water, and on another level, beyond a small herd of Barcelona chairs, other residents worked resolutely on treadmills and exercise bikes.

We found the lifts and went up to the twenty-eighth floor, where Damien was waiting for us, freshly showered and scented. He gave Mary a hug and we shook hands, and he led the way across the lobby to his open front door. Inside we pa.s.sed through a hallway and into his living room. The furniture was stylish muted browns and creams, and the wall beyond was floor to ceiling gla.s.s, through which the lights of other towers glittered against the dark.

'Pretty stunning apartment, Damien,' I said.

'Seidler,' he murmured, unable to suppress the little smile of pride. 'One of his last.' He c.o.c.ked his head to a side door. 'Darling?'

Lauren appeared. She was pretty stunning too, a svelte brunette with shrewd eyes and an ironic smile. She kissed us in turn, saying how wonderful it was to meet us finally, Damien having told her so much about us. Mary was clearly captivated. She handed over some chocolates and asked if the evening was meant to celebrate something, perhaps the new flat.

Lauren said, 'Oh no, we've been here six months now.' Then she turned to Damien and said, 'Shall I?'

He smiled, shrugged, uncharacteristically sheepish, and she said to us, 'There is something to celebrate, though. I'm pregnant-we've just found out.' She gave a laugh. 'We haven't told anyone yet. You're the first.' She went to him, and he put a protective arm around her shoulders, grinning broadly.

'That's wonderful,' I said. 'Just as well we brought champagne.' I shook Damien's hand again and handed him the bottle.

'I suppose I shouldn't,' Lauren giggled. 'I'll give up after tonight.' She looked flushed and excited, and it was impossible not to be touched. 'I'm sorry, I was going to be so cool about this and not say a word, but the first people we meet I blurt it out. We've been trying for a while.'

Mary said, 'When is it due?'

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