set aside so he could enter the profession, working his way up to becoming a barrister with a formidable reputation for winning the cases he took on.
He believed in them. That was what made the difference. He never took on a case unless he believed he was fighting for right, and then he gave it everything he could bring to it. Harriet saw the law as a chess game—moves and counter-moves—but to Mitch the chessboard was always black and white, and he wasn’t interested in playing black.
His clerk met him outside the courtroom, handing him a message from Ric Donato. He couldn’t make lunch today. Disappointing. Mitch always enjoyed meeting up with Ric. And Johnny. Although their lives had travelled very different paths since their time at Gundamurra, the three of them had remained good friends over the years.
They shared the common bond of Patrick Maguire’s influence in setting them on the paths they’d chosen—each to their own bent. And they understood where each other was coming from and why. Not too many people ever achieved that kind of understanding.
It came from living together in constant proximity for six months. There were few distractions in the outback. It was a place for talking, chewing over things, reflecting on what had meaning and what didn’t, sharing each other’s visions of the world. And dreams.
Ric had become an award-winning photo-journalist—amazing stuff he’d shot with his camera. Retired from the job now and running an international photographic agency. Very successfully.
Johnny was a star with his country music, currently touring the U.S.—a millionaire many times over with most of his recordings going platinum.
Mitch was the only one whose chosen career kept him in Australia. The halls of justice called to him and Sydney was his city. Still, it was great to catch up with the others when they were in town. He wondered what had caused Ric to miss their lunch today—had to be some business problem.
‘Cancel the booking at the restaurant,’ he instructed his clerk. ‘I’ll buy some sandwiches, eat in the park, get some fresh air.’
If he couldn’t have Ric’s company to dilute the cold nastiness of this case, he’d prefer to be outdoors, soaking up some sunshine.
Sitting in the park reminded Mitch of his own mother—the countless times he’d pushed her wheelchair to the small park near where they’d lived at Surry Hills. Every Saturday and Sunday if it was fine. Fresh air and sunshine, being outside, watching other people, spending time together, giving Jenny a break so she felt free to go and do her own thing—which was what his mother had always encouraged for both of them, hating the idea of her disability holding them back from pursuing goals of their own.
She hadn’t tried to rule the lives of her children, not like the woman he’d just pilloried on the witness stand, meting out punishment when her son hadn’t measured up to her predetermined mould for him. If anything, his own mother had been too self-effacing, not even wanting to ask for what was her rightful due.
It was good that she’d lived long enough to see him called to the bar. She’d been very proud of that achievement. And she’d seen Jenny married to a good guy, too. Both her children doing well for themselves. If he ever had children himself…well, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
He’d dallied with the idea of marrying Harriet. They shared the same profession. She was a smart, witty woman and he’d generally enjoyed her company. Enjoyed the sex with her, too. Until he’d found out she was also having sex with one of the judges, laughing it off as simply a strategy to give her an edge in court. Winning was what Harriet was about. Winning at all costs. She’d probably thought winning him would be a feather in her cap. She’d certainly been angling for marriage.
No way now, Mitch thought. If he ever married, he’d want honesty in the relationship. Loyalty, too. As for love…well, Harriet had engaged his mind, but had she ever really engaged his heart? Mitch wasn’t sure what love was between a man and a woman. Attraction, yes. A sexual high, yes. But love…maybe he’d become too disciplined in controlling emotion to feel a deep abiding passion for a woman.
He strolled back to the court house, gearing himself up for another competitive round with Harriet who’d no doubt be objecting to every tack he took with her client. His clerk met him on the steps with another message—this one from Ric’s executive assistant in Sydney, a woman by the name of Kathryn Ledger, asking him to return her call on a matter of urgency.
Was Ric in trouble?
A broken lunch appointment, no excuse given.
Now an urgent call from his office.
Mitch glanced at his watch. Still ten minutes before he was due in court. He whipped out his mobile phone, retreated down the steps for a quick bit of privacy and called the number written on the message slip.
‘Kathryn Ledger,’ came the brisk response.
‘Mitch Tyler. I don’t have much time. What’s the problem?’
‘In a nutshell…Ric received photographic evidence this morning that a woman he knows is a battered wife. He went straight to her home and took her out of the situation. He’s flown her off somewhere in Johnny Ellis’s plane.’
‘Good God!’ Mitch muttered in disbelief.
‘The husband was having her watched by a private investigator who lost their trail at our basement car park when Ric switched cars.’ The incredible tale went on. ‘Her husband has since turned up at our office, harassing the staff for information. I gave him the name of the restaurant where you and Ric were supposed to meet for lunch, but he’s bound to come back when he doesn’t find Ric there. My instructions were to call you if there was trouble.’
‘A woman he knew?’ Mitch queried.
‘He called her Lara Seymour and said they went back a long way.’
Ric’s Lara? From when he was sixteen?
Mitch’s mind boggled.
Could a youthful passion last this long?
Stealing a Porsche to impress a girl was one thing. Stealing a married woman from her husband—eighteen years later!—was one hell of a leap.
‘But the name isn’t Lara Seymour now,’ the informing voice went on. ‘It’s Lara Chappel…married to Gary Chappel, son of Victor Chappel. You know who I mean?’
Gary Chappel!
Mitch was momentarily poleaxed by shock.
‘Mr Tyler? The Chappel medical clinic and nursing home empire? We’re talking big money and power here. And we’ve got trouble.’
Mitch’s trapped breath hissed out as his mind clicked to action stations. ‘I know exactly what you mean, Ms Ledger. Do you still have this photographic evidence?’
‘Yes. Five copies in the safe.’
‘I’ll be sending two security men to escort you to my chambers. Do not leave your office until they arrive. Bring one copy of the photograph with you. Once you are safely in my chambers, wait in my private office for me. I’ll join you as soon as I’m free. I cannot emphasise enough…follow these instructions to the letter, Ms Ledger. Believe me, you have big trouble.’
‘Thank you, Mr Tyler. Rest assured I’ll follow your advice.’
‘Good!’
Efficient and sensible, Mitch thought as he hurried back to his clerk. As she should be, given her executive position in Ric’s business. All the same, he was impressed by her quick summary of the situation and her no-quibbling response to the course of action he’d outlined.
He told his clerk what he wanted done, adding, ‘This is urgent business. Get the security men there pronto, and tell them Ms Ledger is carrying merchandise that is invaluable.’
Definitely invaluable, Mitch thought with grim satisfaction. Legal evidence against Gary Chappel! No way could that bastard wriggle out of this one.