The Labyrinth of Drowning Read Online Free PDF Page A

thing I’m not is a fool,’ Griffin said.
    ‘Then don’t talk like one, mate,’ Harrigan replied calmly.
    Griffin looked at him, his expression as if the shutters had come down. There might have been nothing in his mind. They had reached Oxford Street and were standing just outside the court house’s dark-honey sandstone gateway. Harrigan again asked himself how much this man might know. If Griffin thought he had a case for blackmail, he would tell him soon enough. Maybe it was time to take the offensive.
    ‘I’ve checked you out too,’ he said. ‘You don’t have a high profile. No one knows much about you at all. There are times in the past when you might as well have been living in Greenland. Why did you take Newell on, particularly pro bono? Did you think there was something in this for you?’
    ‘I thought he needed good representation. There’s a lot of interesting information in Chris’s head. Some of it’s pretty scrambled but you can usually sort out what’s true and what’s not.’
    ‘You’d want to be very careful with anything he told you,’ Harrigan replied, a man offering friendly advice. ‘Given the people he mixes with, you’d probably end up putting your head in a noose. The best thing you could do is keep it to yourself.’
    ‘I’ve seen pictures of your partner online,’ Griffin said. ‘You and her together. She’s a very attractive woman. But she’s got a scar. You can just see it in the pictures. It runs from here to here.’ He touched his chin and then the top of his breastbone. ‘It must have been a nasty cut.’
    Harrigan took a step forward, close enough to Griffin to have taken hold of him by the collar if he’d wanted to. He pointed a finger in his face. ‘You involve yourself in my affairs and you’ll be picking up the pieces for a long time afterwards. You remember that and you mind your own business as of now. Because I’ve got nothing for you. Not now, not ever.’
    ‘You care about her, don’t you? Why else would you be here? Even if you haven’t married her. And there’s your daughter. You’d care about her too, wouldn’t you?’
    Harrigan dropped his voice. ‘You’re one step away, mate. Say another word…’
    Griffin moved back. He smiled and put on a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. Now Harrigan was looking at his own reflection.
    ‘You want to know what’s in it for me? Chris is my client and I’m defending him. Simple as that. It’s a pity he won’t cooperate with me. If he did, he might be out of gaol before the end of the year. But there he is right now. On his way back to Long Bay.’
    Harrigan turned. Two unmarked police cars had appeared in convoy at the intersection of Oxford Street and Darlinghurst Road. The first was an escort car; the second carried Newell sitting between two plain-clothes officers. They were waiting to turn left onto Oxford.
    ‘What are they doing here? Why didn’t they ask for a van to take Newell back?’ Harrigan said.
    Griffin made no reply.
    As the cars made the turn, two motorbikes came roaring alongside them. The riders shot first into the cars’ tyres then into the cars themselves before slaloming out of the way. The cars slewed dangerously. A heavy four-wheel-drive broke through the lights and rammed into the car carrying Newell, smashing it halfway onto the pavement, causing the passers-by to run. Theescort car had skewed to a stop at a dangerous angle across the road, blocking both lanes.
    One motorbike rider had shot into the escort car while the second fired at people around the scene, keeping them at bay. Pedestrians hit the footpath. Harrigan dragged Griffin to the ground. Bullets echoed around them.
    The driver of the four-wheel-drive got out and shot into the prisoner’s car, smashing the glass. He was wearing a balaclava. ‘Open it!’ he yelled at the driver. The back door on the intact side was opened and the gunman shot the driver at point-blank range. One of the guards, clearly wounded, was