There were mangroves here, which meant saltwater crocodiles and sharks too. But that was why they had come. Rachel had wanted to see the sharks.
Will Harris sat on the bow listening to the sails yawn against the wind as the boat sliced through the water seeking out a new dive site among Palau's limestone islands. They had spent the trip sailing through over two hundred and fifty of them, a maze of verdant green and azure sea.
Rachel crept up from behind and wrapped her legs and arms around him.
'Hey,' she said.
'How are you going, fiancée?'
Speaking the word aloud still felt strange and thrilling. It was less than a week ago that he'd proposed on the beach, at a table on the sand illuminated by oil burners, watching the sun set over the pacific.
'I'm great. Properly relaxed, you know?'
'Well, don't get too calm, we're heading back in soon.'
'Hush now. We've got plenty of time together,' she said, pointing her legs out in front of them both and stretching her toes.
'If only we could stay out here forever.'
She leaned her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his ear.
'I think the crew would get sick of us after a while. Your sister wouldn't be too happy about it either.'
'Mischa could come join us. Help cook, scrub the decks. She can pick up Toby on the way.'
'This ship might already have its own cat.'
'Well, I haven't seen one.'
'Why not have our own boat? Then we wouldn't have to worry about any of it. We'd have to learn how to sail, of course.'
Her hand slid down his chest and settled on his groin.
'It would be more private. Who'd propose to a girl and then drag her out onto a tiny boat filled with divers, with the world's thinnest walls?'
'Who is this guy? He sounds terrible.'
Another shift in tone. 'No, it's romantic,' she purred.
'That was sort of the point.'
'And soon I get to spend some private time with the famous lawyer, the victor of the celebrated Cochrane case.' She was walking her fingers up the Velcro of his boardshorts.
'It's a cruel thing you're doing.'
'I know,' she said.
'Another two days before we're back in the hotel.'
'Well, you'll just have to be patient. Like me.'
Will leant backward, turning his head to see her face.
She smiled at him, her sunglasses slipping down her nose.
'Take them off.'
She bit her lip. 'Ah, okay.' She reached behind her back and started to untie her bikini.
'Not that,' he laughed. 'Your sunglasses.'
She pushed the oversized glasses up onto her head.
He could gaze at her for hours. The freckles across the bridge of her nose usually stood in contrast to her fair skin. But after three days in the sun she had started to brown, the tan bringing out her pale blue eyes.
He kissed her. She tasted of salt and sunscreen.
'You are beautiful.'
'Yours forever, mate.' She winked at him.
'Mr Harris, Ms Shaw?' Elong, one of the Micronesian dive-masters, emerged from the forward cabin. She turned her eyes away as Rachel retied her bikini. 'We are looking for you. It is time to dive.'
'Thanks,' Will said, offering a hand to Rachel as she got to her feet. Her cheeks were already red from the sun. Will couldn't tell if she was blushing. 'Shall we?'
'You will want to be quick, they have already started the briefing,' Elong said.
Will and Rachel walked quickly to the dive deck at the stern of the boat. The briefing was wrapping up, the other divers already in their wetsuits. The commotion of prepping was underway. The enthusiastic divers were grabbing underwater cameras out of dunk tanks, double checking equipment and discussing the site.
'What are we looking at?' Will asked.
Their Australian tour director, Simon, usually laconic to a point of national pride, was agitated. 'We don't have a lot of time with this one. You'll want to get suited up ASAP. I sent Camsek down to check the current. It's got a lot of pull on it so we're going to make this a live drop. Junk will put you out over the site, Camsek will stay in front of you, Elong will follow up behind. What you'll do is follow the current along the coral wall to the next mooring point. This is where we'll meet you. Should be nice and easy as long as you just go with it. When you get to the end, you'll see Camsek clipped on to the mooring and holding out an extra safety line. Try not to shoot past it.
'If you do go past it, take your time coming up and stay on the surface. Use your safety sausage to signal us and we'll send the Zodiac out to get you. No dramas. You feel okay about this, big man?'
Will nodded his head.
'What about you, Rach?'
Rachel was already pulling on her wetsuit, yanking it up over her shoulders.
'Yeah. I'm excellent.'
'Great,' Simon replied. 'Just remember there's no harm in dropping out. This is meant to be a casual trip. Nice and relaxing. We can't control the environment, so we swim within our comfort levels. A few of the Yanks have already bowed out.'
Rachel's eyes were alight with excitement. 'I want to do it.'
'Good one,' Simon said. 'Aussie, Aussie, eh?'
'Damn straight,' she said, tying a scarf around her dark hair to keep the stray ends from drifting across her mask.
Will pulled on his extra-large wetsuit and checked his tank. Air was good. The regulator and his backup were working fine. He pulled the tank on, inflating his buoyancy. He didn't need a weight belt. The vests on the boat used an integrated system, their weights on quick release clips inside the buoyancy jackets. He fastened his straps and picked up his mask and fins.
He looked over to Rachel.
She was lifting her tank on to her back. 'Man, these things get heavier every day,' she said.
'Okay, people,' Simon shouted from the dive deck. 'This is one of the reasons you chose to travel on a luxury sailing vessel. We have killed the engines and are under sails. This means you can jump off the back of the ship without being cut up by the props and turned into shark bait.
'Form a queue behind Camsek. Fins and masks already on. When I give you the signal to jump, go. No loitering please. I want to get you all bunched up on the surface with Camsek and ready to descend at the same time. Once everyone gives the signal, you're good to go down. Got it?'
The divers all chattered in the affirmative. Will and Rachel joined the line behind the divemaster.
'This is digging into my shoulders. Can you take a look at my BCD?' Rachel said to Will.
Will pulled at the edges of her vest. 'It's twisted, no wonder you're uncomfortable. There's a release valve at the back here, a switch that sits really close to your pressure hose. We'll want to make sure that it doesn't accidentally dump the air from your vest.'
'Didn't see that any earlier, eh, bright eyes?'
'You guys good to go?' Simon called over to them.
The last divers leapt off the side of the boat, leaving the way clear.
'Definitely,' Rachel replied. She grinned at Will as she stepped backward off the dive platform. She dropped down straight under them, water busting up from under her. Rachel surfaced and gave a signal that she was okay.
'Tricky move.' Simon said as Will lumbered up to him.
'She's a bit of a show pony.'
'Have fun down there,' he said, giving the signal for Will to leap off the boat. Will barely had time to register that he was falling before he crashed into the water, the cold rushing down the back of his wetsuit. He signalled that he was all right and kicked on his back over to the group of divers on the surface.
Rachel was bobbing in the water smiling up at the clear blue sky.
'Remember, keep me in front of you, and Elong behind you,' Camsek said, his sea-tanned skin almost as dark as his wetsuit.
Rachel held Will by the hand. 'You ready?'
Will nodded, and they slowly released the air from their vests and slipped down beneath the waves. Soon the sounds of the surface were replaced with the sound of Will's breathing through his regulator.
Rachel descended faster than Will, slipping free of his hand as soon as the air was released from her vest. Will had to lean forward, kicking with his fins to keep up with her.
The current was stronger below the surface, an invisible hand pulling them along the reef wall. The sun's rays filtered through to them as they levelled off at twenty-five metres. Above, fish danced between outcrops of coral and sea fans silhouetted against the light, while below them a six-hundred-metre drop-off disappeared into the deep blue. Thousands of tropical fish swam among the coral wall while out over the blue, larger oceangoing fish emerged in and out of view.
Rachel pointed ahead, turning back to Will, her eyes large. A hammerhead shark drifted slowly around them, keeping its distance while tracking them with its tiny, outcropped eyes.
Will let himself relax, barely kicking at all. He watched Rachel as he drifted. She kicked with confidence, holding her position while she photographed the shark. It lingered a while before swimming off, its sleek form engineered by nature to move easily against the current.
Will checked his gauge and saw that they had descended to thirty-five metres following the shark. He swam up to her and gave her a signal to level off to twenty metres. Rachel nodded back and they gradually made their way higher into a current of warmer water. They rounded a bend to see the rest of the dive group ahead of them.
Forty barracuda were schooling over the drop-off, spearing into the current, their spiny mouths opening and closing slightly as their black-and-silver streaked scales glinted under the sun.
The rest of the dive group was clustered together watching the school, a trail of bubbles tracing its way to the surface from the top of one of the Germans' tanks. He was losing air.
Rachel saw it as well and pointed at the diver. Will nodded and looked behind him for Elong. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was leisurely frog kicking. Waving her down, Rachel pointed to the German.
At first Will was uncertain if Elong had seen Rachel, but she rapidly pieced together the situation. She signalled 'okay' and stretched out into a more streamlined profile. With five strong kicks she closed the distance on the German and started checking his tank. Will and Rachel watched as gauges were examined and the decision was made for the two Germans to surface. All three started to ascend, and Will watched as they commenced their safety stop five metres from the surface.
Looking back down, Will could see Rachel was deep again, swimming up to a large brain coral around which dozens of juvenile fish were gathered. Butterfly fish in a full spectrum of colours, blue and yellow, orange and white, some with an entire rainbow gradated across their flanks. Five minutes passed as Rachel took photos, the flash of her underwater camera throwing strobed light around the coral head.
Again Will swam down to her, giving the signal to check her remaining air. He signed that he had one hundred bar left. They were halfway through the dive.
Rachel looked back at him, wide-eyed and frantic. Will kicked harder and came up close to her, the frustration of not being able to talk grinding into his chest. He signalled again and Rachel thrust her gauge at him.
She had thirty bar left.
What? he thought. She hasn't even been deep that long. She usually had better bottom time than him.
The screen of his dive computer indicated that they were at thirty metres. It started beeping out a warning. They would have to make a decompression stop before they could ascend to a shallower depth or risk getting the bends.
Rachel was turning her head wildly looking for the divemasters. Camsek was some distance away while Elong was still up at the surface with the Germans.
Will's breathing was more rapid now, his anxiety taking a toll on his remaining air supply. His racing heart would be drawing vital oxygen out of his blood. Will concentrated on slowing his breathing.
He gripped Rachel's arm, pulling her in to him, and looked into her eyes. Ascend to twenty metres. Hold for three minutes, he gestured. She stared back at him, eyes afraid, frustrated, and shook her head pointing to the gauge. Will tugged loose his spare regulator and held it out to her. Ascend twenty. Level off three. They could share air when she ran out.
Rachel nodded and they started to swim up. She was heavy in his hand. Will had to kick harder to compensate for her weight and with every kick he was using more air.
One minute.
Rachel's eyes were glassy. Her head lolled back as she raised her hand to her throat and made a severing motion. Her tank was empty. Will reached for his spare regulator and offered it to her. Rachel slipped it into her mouth.
Two minutes.
They waited, breathing off the same tank. Their world narrowed to the sound of their respirators and what little they could convey through their eyes.
We're good. We're good. Will looked at her. Slow, slow, he thought.
The three-minute mark passed and the computer gave them the all-clear that they could start to surface. Will, now gripping Rachel by her buoyancy vest, pushed hard with each kick. Looking below him he could see the reef rushing by – the current had picked up. The mooring line rose up in front of them. They were on the wrong trajectory. They were going to miss it. Rachel turned to him with another desperate look.
Will's right fin bounced off the barnacle-encrusted rope and they were swept out away from the ship.
Will was feeling woozy, his body aching now, the quick ascent forcing nitrogen through his arterial walls into his muscles. If he made it to the surface, it would be painful.
As long as it hurts, you're not dead.
At five metres he stopped. Rachel was having trouble staying buoyant and he had to kick actively against her. Why is she so heavy? What's wrong with her buoyancy?
The three-minute countdown started. Three minutes of eternity.
The dial on his gauge was well into the red. Twenty bar of air, maybe less. He was having trouble seeing it properly, his vision blurring. He stared at the gauge as he kicked. Fifteen bar. Two minutes to go. They were sinking lower again now, almost to seven metres. Will kicked harder. Rachel was tiring. Her legs moved languidly.
One minute, five bar left.
Fuck it.
Gripping Rachel with one hand and using the other to make a cutting motion against his neck, he thrust his thumb up rapidly. Emergency ascent.
Rachel nodded slowly.
Will kicked hard. Rachel's legs weren't moving at all. He kicked harder, the weight of her pulling him, dragging him back into the black below. His calves and thighs burned as his oxygen-depleted muscles strained harder. The air from the regulator was thin, and he felt as though his chest was being crushed, the air barely making it into his lungs.
Without warning the tank was empty. He was sucking on a vacuum.
Breaking the surface he spat out his regulator and drew air back into his lungs.
Will pulled Rachel in towards him. She wasn't moving, her body heavy in his arms. Her regulator had fallen free. He pushed the inflate valve on his buoyancy vest. Of course there was nothing. He was all out of air. They started to sink back below the surface.
Will held his breath as he scrambled for Rachel's inflate button. She still had a couple of bar. Pressing it, he started to cry as he heard the sound of air rushing into the vest. They rose back up to the surface. He let the vest fill, the bloated nylon holding Rachel on her back as he swam beside her.
The sound of an engine. A Zodiac came slicing into view. Elong, dripping in her wetsuit, steered the outboard, while Simon reached for them.
'What happened?' Simon shouted.
'Emergency ascent. She's overweighted. Maybe a leak. I don't know. I don't know.'
Simon pulled Rachel into the back of the Zodiac and stripped off her vest as Will clambered in beside him. Simon cleared her airway and started doing CPR, pushing down on her chest. Elong accelerated and they bounced in the sunlight across the surface of the ocean.
Back at the junk the captain had the automated defibrillator ready. They lifted Rachel on to the deck, her body slapping on wood as they moved her. Will slumped beside them as they pulled her wet-suit loose, dried her off and placed the paddles to her chest.
The thud of an electrical charge.
Nothing.
A second thud, like God's gavel.
Nothing.
One more.
Silence.
Will was numb. He watched from outside his own body. The mad scramble continued for another hour – cutting free the wet-suit, the emergency blanket, an injection of adrenaline . . . She was already gone, her brain dead. As the medivac chopper arrived, Will, sobbing, kissed her on the lips.
She tasted of salt and sunscreen.
Chapter One
Grove, Quietly and Garrison lay in a narrow alleyway off the main strip in Melbourne's legal district. Nestled behind the Supreme Court, it sat in the shadow of the larger glass-fronted firms. What it lacked in the scope of its client base it made up in its discretion and focus as a boutique law firm for criminal defence practice.
Will Harris regained his breath as he paused at the firm's wood-panelled doors. More bad sleep last night had him struggling through his morning routine and he'd had to make up time on his way in to work. Even after two years, dreaming of Rachel always left Will groggy and confused when he woke to find the bed half empty. His mind was embellishing again, forgotten details now surfacing along with her lifeless body.
At the front door a National Trust plaque detailed the history of the Granger Building: built in 1854, notable English architect, sister building in London, a fine example of Victorian iron work with a brick and terracotta façade.
The unofficial record was less palatable. It was initially a lodge house for the Masons before the building's financier, Austin Granger, brought financial ruin to his family through contributions to the Britannic, sister ship to the Titanic. Granger was found dead one winter's night having apparently overdosed on morphine. While the coroner supported this finding, his family insisted something more sinister – his corpse was found in a locked cupboard, a half-finished will lying by the nub of a low-burnt candle.
Will hoped he could complete his quota of billable hours over case notes and paperwork before heading to the gym. A good day was inoffensive, quiet, uneventful. A bad day would have him running briefs all over town and dealing with volatile clients.
Stepping inside he walked across the mosaic floor with its Moroccan patterns painstakingly restored by a team of craftsmen. To maintain its community standing the firm had sunk a lot of money into the floor, even suffering the disruptions of visiting tour groups and architecture students.
Passing reception with its ever-changing prim blonde face, Will nodded to the latest temp – either Suzie or Lucy, he couldn't remember – and made a coffee in the small kitchenette. He stared at his face in the reflective surface of the coffee machine. These days he felt as though he was looking at a distant relative and not himself. The family traits were there: the thick, black hair, the solid forehead, the towering build. But his face now looked as though it was slipping loose, the lines under his eyes like an underscore to remind him of his perpetual tiredness. He'd tried to compensate by wearing tailored suits, but even these seemed to drape over his frame.
As he dropped the empty coffee capsule into the bin, Senior Partner Adam Grove leant his head around the doorway.
Grove was fit for his years. He clearly had some kind of regimen that made it hard for Will to place his age. From their perch atop Grove's Roman nose, his quick, ice blue eyes scanned Will.
'Lucy said you might be in here,' Grove said, holding the edge of the doorframe.
'Good morning.' Will forced a smile as he looked down at him. Despite their height discrepancy Grove provoked in him equal parts a desire to please and a fear of failure. Grove didn't suffer fools.
'Pop up to my office with me. We've got a visitor.'
'Sure.' Will placed his coffee down on the counter.
'Bring the drink. It's informal,' Grove said nodding back at him.
As they crossed the lobby towards the stairs to the upper floors, Will waved over to reception, 'Morning, Lucy.'
Belated is better than nothing, he thought. Remembering names was something he'd been good at, before the accident.
As they climbed the stairs that looked down over the mosaic, Grove spoke.
'I've got Chris Miller in the office. He wants to bring some work over to our firm. Now it's time to hammer out a deal.'
'A barrister bringing work to solicitors?'
'Tom McLeod was briefing him, he had a heart attack. Minor scare, but the doctor has him on strict orders. Anyway, Tom's people can't handle the caseload and Miller's taken it on himself to see if we're be interested. If we agree, McLeod will sign over the authority and we'll re-sign Miller as barrister under us. Fiddly but the appropriate course of action. Miller specifically asked for you to sit in on the meeting.'
'Me?'
'Yes. Come on.'
Everything in Grove's office worked to accentuate the firm's old-time chic including a generous allocation of dark wood, oiled leather and a line of marble busts running along the shelf behind Grove's desk. They were probably Greek philosophers but Will had never been close enough to read the inscriptions below their bearded faces.
Grove sat and gestured towards one of the two high-backed visitors chairs. As Will walked to it, Chris Miller stood and held out his hand.
'Will Harris, here in the flesh. Fantastic.'
'Good to see you again, Chris.'
Miller's Most-Eligible-Bachelor looks and Christian Louboutin loafers were only part of the package his clients received when they paid him a small fortune to represent them. Will was well aware of Miller's legal track record – number one with a bullet and no sign of slowing.
'I think we go to the same gym, Doherty's?' Miller said.
'I follow my boxing trainer around. That's where he is now.'
'Yes, I thought I saw you in the ring. I go down sometimes to network with clients. What weight class are you?'
'I don't compete.'
'But if you did?'
'I'd be a heavyweight.'
Grove cut in across them. 'Gentlemen, shall we get down to brass tacks, now that Will is here?'
'Of course.' Miller leant forwards and turned to face Will. 'I take it Mr Grove has brought you up to speed about your firm taking over from Tom McLeod's?'
'Yes, he did.'
'Good. I need a firm with enough resources to help me at short notice. It's a big case and I can't do it without some good solicitors behind me.'
'Big case? Which one?' Will asked.
'It's Kier,' Grove replied.
In the silence that followed, Will put his coffee down on Grove's desk. He cleared his throat. 'Martin Kier?'
'That's right,' Miller said. 'You've heard of him?'
'Only what I've read in the papers.'
'Let me bring you up to speed then. The police picked him up six months ago.'
'Why the short timeframe?' Will asked.
'Politics. Prosecutions want to be seen to be taking action so they're moving fast on this. That and my predecessor was an idiot. He agreed to their truncated timeline.'
'Predecessor?'
'Kier wasn't happy with the first barrister McLeod had recommended. So he specifically requested me.'
'So why not challenge the timeframe when you came on?'
'Because I'm playing the bigger game and it didn't seem worth it. McLeod agreed. I'm not going to say it's not a challenging case. It is. What's critical is that we have very little time left until trial.'
'How long?' said Grove.
'Two and a half weeks. It's been a bit of a mess and be honest we're on the back foot there. That's why I thought of you.'
Will's heart rate rose. He wasn't certain if it was the coffee, the high-profile case or the moral quandary of a client like Kier.
Miller continued. 'A young woman's body was found in a creek, behind the West Melbourne rail yards. The press found out at the same time as the police and there was a free-for-all as forensics arrived. Telephoto pictures on the front pages, black plastic sheeting tied up, with a leg dangling out. The deceased was identified as a missing fifteen-year-old, Amber Tasic. It took them a little time to ID her as the killer had tried to obscure her identity. I'm still waiting on the final version of the coroner's report and police photos, by the way. The media had a field day with it: 'dangerous streets', 'no one is safe'. Suggestions that she was out at a bar before she was killed, so liquor licensing is getting slammed in the press while the cops start questioning security guards all over the CBD. Anyway, it's enough to say there's a lot of hype around it.
'CCTV footage was pulled from one bar: Tasic in a heated argument with a man identified as Martin Kier. Tasic also had a friend with her, Stephanie Pham. When the cops interviewed her she identified Kier. Kier can't account for his whereabouts at Tasic's time of death. He was already known to the police: suspended sentence for the production of child pornography, photos of another fifteen-year-old, naked, no penetration. He's on the sex offender registry, which is how they've got a DNA match without his consent. As far as Prosecutions is concerned, it's an open and shut case. They were ready to move on.'
'But Kier contested . . .' Will said.
'That's right. He's pleading not guilty. Swears he didn't kill the girl.'
'What about the DNA match?'
'He's not disputing sexual relations, he's saying he had no idea how old she was. She was in a bar after all and everyone's supposed to be eighteen and over.'
'Tricky,' Grove said from the other side of the table.
'Yep. But the client gets what the client wants, right? So we're off to trial and have to make a statutory rapist appear as though it's a case of mistaken identity. Committal hearing is done and we're well into prepping.'
Will leant forwards. 'Statutory rapist?'
'That's what I'm going with. One of McLeod's strategies, actually. He felt 'paedophile' is what the prosecution and the media will call him. I have to make it sound a bit less about kiddiefiddlers and a bit more about legal definitions.'
'What do you think so far?' Grove asked Will.
I think this client sounds reprehensible.
'It's a solid strategy,' Will said. 'I do wonder if the police don't have something else up their sleeve. A stronger connection between Tasic's death and Kier.'
'Probably, but right now we're swimming in the dark. I'm hoping to confirm the forensic reports in the next couple of days. Then we can really get serious,' Miller replied.
Somewhere downstairs the heating system clicked over and the duct in Grove's office began to thrum. Outside, it started to rain.
'Before you came in we were discussing you being the primary solicitor on this one, Will,' Grove said, hands folded prayer-like beneath his chin.
'It's one of the main reasons I came to your firm first. What do you think?' Miller smiled.
Will struggled to keep his hand from shaking as adrenaline coursed through him. It troubled him that he couldn't pick if he was excited or appalled by the case.
'It's very flattering,' he said, 'but why me?'
'This is a difficult case,' Miller said. 'You've saved some difficult cases in the past.'
Grove remained still. 'You're talking about Cochrane.'
'Cochrane, obviously. But there were others: Hughes, Pastoriza, Vosper. All cases Will briefed.'
'They were not insignificant.'
'So we felt over at Owen Dixon. I am correct in believing Will was behind their strategies?'
'You are.'
Grove leant back into his chair. 'Of course, if I was to agree to Will being your principal, I'd still need to supervise. This tight time-frame is an issue and with an unappealing client like Kier – our firm's reputation is at stake. It's been a while since Will's taken the lead on a case of this significance. I'll need meetings to keep me in the loop, every second day. And I'll want to see the case tree, sign off on major expenses, run through the strategy before trial —'
Miller raised his hand. 'I suggest meetings for major decisions only. We need to find our own momentum and can't be passing everything along for approval.'
'Fine.'
'But otherwise I'd more than value your insight. I couldn't imagine running this case through your firm without the benefit of your considerable experience.'
Grove flicked his eyes to Will. Will didn't like where this was heading.
Stay calm, Will told himself. His head was spinning.
'May I say something?'
'Of course,' Grove replied.
'While I appreciate Mr Miller's enthusiasm, I'd like some time to think this over. I still have responsibilities to other clients.'
Grove nodded. 'I'll delegate your casework out although you'll need to handover. I'll need your decision tomorrow morning.'
Miller slouched back into his chair, crossing his legs. He looked out the window, already moving on in his mind. 'To be honest, if Will doesn't take up the offer then I will probably review my involvement in the case as well. I need to keep my win rate up. No pressure,' he said, flashing a grin at Will.
'So we leave the decision to Will,' Grove said.
Miller and Grove both stood and shook hands across the table, stiff as duellists, smiling like vipers.
'Actually, a quick word, Will, if that's okay?' Miller said as he shook hands with Will.
'Of course,' Grove smiled beneath stern eyes.
