Blood Sunset

30



I SWUNG THE CAR OVER TO the sidewalk and shrieked to a halt.
‘You steal my life,’ Kirzek said. ‘I want it back.’
‘Your life? I don’t understand,’ I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
‘You have something of mine. I have something of yours.’
‘Ella?’
‘Yes, your wife.’
I rested a hand on the dash to steady myself. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want the laptop back. Give it back or I flay your bitch wife like filthy pig.’
I blinked away an image of Kirzek cutting Ella like he had Sparks and Justin Quinn. Cassie held up her radio to ask if I wanted her to call it in. I shook my head and she put a hand on my shoulder, a silent message that she was onside.
‘I don’t have the laptop with me, but I can get it. How do I know Ella is okay?’
‘One thing at one time, Mr Rubens. Be very slow and very careful, you understand? Do not tell pig friends, and bitch won’t get knife.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Get laptop, no pigs, and I call one hour.’
I started to reply but the line went dead. When I tried to call Ella’s mobile phone it was switched off.
‘Motherf*cker!’ I roared, punching the dash and getting out of the car. I paced back and forth, trying to control my panic.
‘You need to stay calm,’ Cassie said, getting out too. ‘What did he say?’
‘He wants the laptop back, but he’ll kill her if I bring in other cops.’
I couldn’t risk involving anyone else. Not Eckles or Stello. Not Kim Pendlebury or Mark Finetti. Not even the tactical response units specially trained for this type of thing. But what about Cassie? If she hadn’t been in the car when the call came through, I probably wouldn’t involve her either, but she was my partner and I had to trust her.
‘We need to get the laptop somewhere safe,’ I said. ‘I don’t give a shit what’s on the hard drive. I’m not letting Eckles or any other f*ckwit bargain with Ella’s life.’
Cassie looked back at me, silent. Finally she walked over to the driver’s side door and pointed at the passenger seat.
‘Get in,’ she said. ‘I’m driving. We’ll go to my place. If he’s planning anything shifty, he’ll go to your place first. He won’t know about mine.’

Back at the watch-house, I ran upstairs, collected the laptop and a knapsack from the property room that contained a two-way mike set and earpiece. Cassie made a U-turn and spun the car hard and fast onto Brighton Road. She swung onto the tram tracks down to the junction into South Melbourne and eventually screeched to a halt outside her two-bedroom cottage. I followed her through the front gate and into the house, checking the street for anything out of place.
I waited in the lounge while Cassie brought in her own laptop and set it up on the coffee table next to Kirzek’s.
‘I’m going to call him,’ I said.
‘Wait.’ Cassie grabbed my wrist. ‘He said he would ring.’
‘I don’t care. Let’s get it over with.’
I dialled the number but the phone was still switched off. Thoughts of Kirzek lying to me, trying to trick me, exploded in my mind. I pressed my fingers into my temples, reminding myself that I had the one thing Kirzek wanted. The laptop. It was my only chance.
Unable to stay still, I headed outside onto the front porch, adrenaline racing as I tried to work out what to do. My hands began to tremble and I had to grip the balustrade. How the f*ck did Kirzek even know about Ella? I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing. One of Anthony’s relaxation mantras played in my mind. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand. Reee-laaaax. I counted with the slow rhythm and imagined swimming in the baths at Brighton Beach, each breath a new stroke, closer and closer to the shore.
It was a while before I realised Cassie was talking to me.
‘What’s that?’ I said.
‘I think I’ve found something on the internet. Come take a look.’
I followed her back into the lounge and sat next to her on the sofa.
‘I started with a simple Google search on the name Gervas Kirzek,’ she said, facing the screen. ‘Got nothing on that so I ran another on the priest the Soggies just arrested.’
‘Miles Jorgensen?’
‘Right. Again nothing came up, but when I added the words “children” and “charges” to the search, I found an article in the Bulletin about a group they call The Holy Brethren. Have a look.’

BRETHREN BROTHERS SPIN WEB OF PERVERSION
Australian Federal Police believe The Holy Brethren is a loosely connected group of paedophiles banded together by the internet and a now-defunct travel agency in Sydney allegedly responsible for organising hundreds of sex tours to countries such as the Philippines, Thailand and Cambodia.
According to sources close to the AFP’s Locust Taskforce, an anti-child-pornography operation, The Holy Brethren has an estimated membership of at least 300 individuals across the nation, with affiliations to the Catholic Church, various community groups, some elements of the education system and the welfare sector.
‘Members of The Holy Brethren often take part in various bonding rituals,’ said Fiona Johns, a Federal Agent attached to the Locust Taskforce. ‘These include prayer groups and camping trips where new members are sworn in, promoted and, if necessary, disciplined.’
The AFP believes The Holy Brethren, like many organisations, is structured according to hierarchy. However, when asked about leadership, officials remained tight-lipped, but according to documents obtained under Freedom of Information legislation, a number of AFP agents assigned to the Locust Taskforce have recently visited countries in the European Eastern Bloc, namely Poland and Romania.
‘There are other commonalities between members both in their personal lives and in business,’ Agent Johns added. ‘For instance, they might all arrange their holidays through the same travel agent, whom they know to be a fellow member. Even purchasing cars or having them serviced might be done through fellow members. It’s a very secular way of life.’
When asked how members could be identified, Agent Johns explained that it wasn’t that simple. ‘They don’t wear uniforms or advertise their membership in any particular way,’ she said. ‘They don’t have tattoos or a club emblem, for instance. However, they can sometimes be identified by a small silver crucifix, either worn on a necklace or as an earring.’

‘It goes on to mention they have cells in all major Australian cities, and that child pornography and the sex tours are its main forms of connection and economy,’ Cassie explained.
I knew then that we were nudging an iceberg.
‘Romania,’ I said, recalling Agent Johns’ briefing on Kirzek and his role in the Romanian secret police. ‘How does the priest fit into it?’
‘That’s where it gets interesting. His name’s in the middle of the article. Here,’ she said, pointing to the screen.

Among the dozens of organisations mentioned in a concluding report filed by the Locust Taskforce are some of the nation’s leading charity and welfare groups, including the former prison release service Breaking the Wall, which has been staunchly defended by its founder, Father Miles Jorgensen.
‘Breaking the Wall absolutely refutes these accusations,’ Jorgensen said. ‘We are a charity organisation and have been helping incarcerated young people form better connections with the community for more than ten years. The AFP’s comments have only served to worsen the lives of thousands of at-risk young people who depend on us for a better future.’

Breaking the Wall was a name I did remember. I hadn’t heard it referred to for a long time though and was surprised it was still operating. It was a post-prison release service whose primary function was to assist kids re-entering the community after a period of incarceration. It helped them find employment, accommodation and other essential services.
‘What else have you got?’ I asked Cassie, remembering something Will Novak had said to me at the crisis centre. ‘Anything about a group called Back Outside?’
She tapped at the keyboard, then said, ‘I ran a name search on Breaking the Wall and got redirected to the Back Outside website. Guess whose name comes up in the annual report?’
‘Miles Jorgensen?’
‘Right. Looks like he started up a new service under a different name. So typical, isn’t it – just move your problem elsewhere and hope it goes away.’
I nodded, thinking it through.
‘There’s something else,’ Cassie said. ‘This is an old press release from early last year on their “what’s news” page. Check it out.’
I leant into the screen and read the text she’d highlighted.

FUNDING BOOST FOR KIDS IN CRISIS
The Hon Brooke Porter MP, Victorian Minister for Health, is pleased to announce a $2.5m funding package to boost the Back Outside program, a move that will improve juvenile offender access to post-release support services.
‘Much of this funding will go straight towards improving coalface services such as accommodation and employment,’ Minister Porter said. ‘Because Back Outside already has established relationships with primary welfare providers, we are able to cut down on the administration costs normally associated with this type of funding package. And since many of these kids are homeless and extremely marginalised after a period of incarceration, these funds are a victory for both the offenders and the community.’

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Cassie said, easing back on the sofa.
‘Yeah, established relationships,’ I said, staring blankly at the words on the screen. ‘CARS get a lot of referrals from Back Outside. Dallas Boyd, for one.’
‘And Sparks too,’ Cassie added. ‘Maybe even Justin Quinn. Who knows how many others.’
I tapped my leg, agitated, unsure what to make of it. ‘Okay, what about Kirzek?’
‘Nothing yet. Can’t find any obvious connection, but he has to be in it somewhere. Jorgensen wouldn’t cop an arrest just for the sake of it. They’re helping each other.’ She looked at me. ‘I figure that’s how they all met, through this program. I mean, we know Dallas Boyd did time for armed robbery. And remember Sparks said Boyd was always talking about making money, acting cocky before he got out, as though he knew he was going to earn a whole pile of it?’
‘Yeah, Dallas had a plan but kept it secret. Helping these guys make porn and then blackmailing them was his plan. Obviously it backfired.’
My mind spun with how this information could help find Ella. Somehow Kirzek and Jorgensen knew each other and were in partnership, possibly with CARS somewhere in the picture, but none of this helped me now. Before I could suggest anything more, my phone rang. It was Kirzek.
‘You have laptop, yes?’
‘Yes,’ I said, heart pumping.
‘Very good. Do not lie, McCauley.’
‘I’m not.’
‘I have your wife, remember.’
I swallowed. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
‘You have email?’ he said. ‘You can send email to wife, yes?’
‘Send her an email? But what –’
‘What is problem?’ Kirzek snapped. ‘You have your own computer, yes?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then send email to wife. Do it now. Then we talk more. If not, I give her my favourite trick.’
He hung up, leaving me with an empty phone line. Cassie took the phone from me gently.
‘He wants you to send an email somewhere?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, to Ella. I don’t understand.’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘He’s at Ella’s apartment, waiting by her computer. He’s probably checked her emails and seen some from your hotmail account, so he knows he can communicate with you this way. Remember, this guy’s a rock spider. They live on the internet. He feels comfortable with computers.’
‘I don’t want to lose her, Cass. I love her.’
‘I know,’ she said, squeezing my hand. ‘Maybe we should try to set up a trace, either on the emails or phone calls. How long would that take?’
I shrugged, despondent. ‘Too long. By the time they get it up and running he’ll know we’re stalling him. I can’t risk it.’
She nodded in agreement, then shuffled closer to her laptop and opened Hotmail. I logged on to my account and she typed a message to Ella’s email address: I’m here . . . now what?
Shortly after, an email arrived back: Look closely. U can see wife.
‘What the hell does that mean?’ I asked.
‘Attachments,’ Cassie explained, pointing at two orange icons beneath the address tabs. ‘These are jpeg files. Photos.’
I leant closer, saw that the files were named simply 1 and 2. Fear surged through my body as Cassie opened the first one.
‘Oh Jesus,’ I gasped, staring at a picture of Ella bound and gagged on her bed, eyes wide with fear. By the bed was a television, the screen depicting a scene from the movie Titanic.
‘It’s a proof-of-life shot,’ Cassie said, reaching for the remote control and turning her television on. She scrolled through the channels until Titanic came on. ‘He’s telling us she’s still alive.’
‘What about the other photo?’
It was an almost exact copy of the previous picture, but this time Kirzek had positioned his knife on top of the television.
‘That bastard,’ I snarled. ‘I’m gonna take that knife and gouge out his f*cking heart.’
I paced the room and felt a surge of rage so pure and clear it scared me. In nearly twenty years as a cop, I’d never taken a human life, not even in self-defence. But in that moment I knew I’d have no problem killing Kirzek.
‘He has to know you understand his message,’ said Cassie, typing another email. Loud and clear. What now?
Almost immediately Kirzek responded: Take laptop to souvlaki bar on Lygon Street. Go alone, wait inside. Someone will come for laptop.
What about Ella? Cassie typed.
When laptop secure, wife go free, came the reply.
Cassie went to type a response but I stopped her. I wasn’t happy with Kirzek’s instructions. ‘Tell him I want a straight swap,’ I said. ‘Out in the open.’
She nodded and typed: Bring Ella to the souvlaki store. We’ll do a direct swap.
Kirzek replied immediately: No. She stay here. When laptop secure, I set her free. Leave now. Twenty minutes. Remember, I see everything.
I pictured Kirzek in Ella’s bedroom, staring out the window towards Lygon Street, watching the souvlaki bar. It was an amateur and desperate plan but that didn’t matter. Kirzek had us stumped. We’d seen what he’d done to Sparks and Justin Quinn. By comparison, Dallas Boyd got it easy.
‘He won’t hesitate to take her out if we screw him over,’ I said tersely. ‘I don’t have a choice, Cass. I have to play ball. I have to get her back myself.’