by Cenarth Fox
I found all the ingredients and have finished the task.
For Kate, this meant Job complete, payment sent.
She too was worried. Almost certainly her main target had rumbled her. By triggering her phone in Bernie’s flat, she managed to escape. To stay meant drinking the coffee which was probably spiked.
Kate Naismith was a pseudonym. Her real name, Carolyn Briggs, remained unknown even to Ralph. She once had a promising career with the Australian Federal Police. That ended when she slept with a senior officer, and when the coitus ceased, the consequences were predictable.
As per the boys’ rules, the female, the junior, lost.
Close the door on your way out, Bitch.
Carolyn used her AFP experience to work as a private detective, and soon discovered she could make nice money spying. She was good.
She looked okay, acted well, had several skills, and could create characters and scenarios to fool almost anyone. She fooled Bernie Slim until by accident she bumped into her employer in the Gardens. It was bad luck rather than a sloppy operation. Somehow the scientist had sussed her true identity. Bernie knew she was a plant.
Shit.
She checked her bank account and felt numb.
The bastard. That’s not what we agreed.
She fired back a response on the Cookery web site posting the code.
My grandmother made exactly the same recipe.
This was the emergency code.
We must meet now.
The pre-arranged rendezvous was the Black Rock Yacht Club. Its car park beckoned late at night.
Ralph saw the code. He wanted no more to do with the spy but knew to ignore her could create trouble. He replied.
Homemade cooking is certainly the best.
This meant the rendezvous was on within 30 minutes.
Ralph pulled into the car park. Kate was already there. She walked to the Hyphen’s 4WD Beamer, and stood alongside his window. He checked her then released the security lock. She walked around the vehicle, and climbed in next to him. He locked the doors. She was angry.
‘Where’s the rest of my money?’
‘You blew it.’
‘We agreed the fee with bonuses if I put in two listening devices.’
‘You broke the rules by meeting me in the Gardens.’
‘I didn’t meet you; you were there.’
‘You sent the code before you made the dead-letter drop.’
‘I was late with the drop-off because my dog nearly died.’
Silence. Both fumed. He guessed but delivered the killer punch.
‘Slim knows you’re a spy.’
She couldn’t argue. Ralph was probably correct. No, he was correct.
Both spies fumed. Ralph had a double dose of misery. Sacking his operative gave him no comfort. Without her, he had no chance of finding the formula. In Ralph’s car, the silence had attitude.
‘If you don’t pay me,’ started Kate.
‘You’ll what? Call the cops? Contact my CEO in the States? Do what you like. I don’t care. You blew it. You’re lucky to get what you did. I never want to hear from you again. Now get out of my fucking car.’
He released the door lock. She stared at him.
I could break his jaw.
She held her anger, got out, but left the door wide open, forcing him to undo his seatbelt, and clamber across. He was gone before she made it back to her car. She seethed.
The CEO had underpaid her big time. He’d never hire her again. She was hardly going to lodge an unfair dismissal claim with the Fair Work Commission.
I’ve got nothing to lose. Revenge is a dish best served cold. But how?
She scrolled through her phone. Being an ex-cop had advantages. She rang the head of the Dogs of War Bikie Club. Why a bearded bloke with more tatts than whiskers answered to Geoffrey had her beat.
‘Geoffrey, hi, it’s your friendly ex-Federal copper.’
He recognised her voice.
‘G’day, babe. What’s up?’
‘I wanna do you a favour.’
Geoffrey roared. ‘You’re on. My place or yours?’
‘We need a meet.’
They sat in a noisy Brunswick pub where she told him everything — the drug, the scientist, the bit players, the dangers and the benefits.
He didn’t believe her. ‘This is a windup.’
‘You grab that formula, and you’ll make a fortune, Geoffrey. All I want is the prick who ripped me off to receive a serious slap.’
‘I’ve got the perfect slapper.’ He beckoned to a brick outhouse stacked against the bar.
‘Babe, meet our Irish enforcer, Brendan Murphy.’
They nodded. Had Brendan been bound and gagged, and dressed in his birthday suit, Carolyn might have recognized him. He once starred full frontal on various whacky web sites. But in mufti, he looked like any drug-pushing gorilla.
She finished her instructions.
‘The guy who needs a slap, Ralph the CEO, doesn’t have the formula. For that you’ll need Bernie Slim, the scientist. Here’s a list of his cronies including a couple of old birds. They may have it or will know where Bernie keeps it. Copy?’
‘We copy, hey Murph?’
The Irishman nodded.
He wanted back in the game. He wanted revenge on Parisi and his family, and anyone who’d even smiled at his naked humiliation. Meet the Ulster bareknuckle boxer on speed.
Geoffrey drooled over Kate and her offer, and for Brendan, if it meant a return to the drug trade, and gaining respect, he couldn’t wait.
Kate kept pushing her message. ‘Get the formula from Slim, and then use it to flush out the bastard who runs Labcope. Give him a slap. You get the new drug, and I get my pound of flesh.’
Geoffrey ogled Kate.
I’ll settle for a pound of your flesh, babe.
They raised their glasses.
Bernie could not reach Kate. He knew their relationship was dead but made one final effort. Her phone message told all.
This number is no longer available.
So, he knew her identity, and she knew he knew, and that was it.
Goodbye Ms Spy.
He thought about their first meeting.
She ordered those lemons to attack me. She approached Labcope because that is where I work. Was she even a graphic designer? She conned me good and proper.
Kate, aka Carolyn, returned to her mother in Kew, where she collected her gear, and her recovering dog, and headed home to the Dandenongs. She removed the wig and added the specs.
Roll on the next gig. Oh, and good hunting, Geoffrey.
The Premier called on Genevieve at home. The Chief of Staff looked drowsy. You would too with the medication she had absorbed.
‘Hello darl,’ purred Jessica. ‘How are you feeling, babe?’
Genevieve tried to smile. ‘I still have these headaches, although the doctor says I’m fine. Can I tell you something?’
‘Of course you can. If you can’t trust your bestie, who can you trust?’
‘I don’t really want to quit.’
‘And I won’t let you.’
‘But I can’t come back to work until I’ve said sorry to all those people I’ve hurt over the years.’
Jessica swore silently.
I not only need that formula; I need the bloody antidote.
‘Listen, darl, I have news. Some scientist has invented a drug, which plays funny buggers with your mind. You are a victim. I reckon you’ve been slipped the drug via a Mickey Finn.’
‘What does the drug do?’
‘I’m not sure. I think it affects your conscience. But hey, everything’s cool. You’re going to get through this. You’re off to my beach house for a few days R ‘n R. Walks on the sand, DVDs, and lots of snoozing.’
Genevieve looked confused. ‘What about the kids?’
‘I’ve arranged for your Mum to look after the kids, and for Janet, a wonderful, gorgeous nurse, to look after you at Lorne. Now I won’t hear a
ny argument. Just stay away, don’t talk to anyone, and get better.’
Genevieve nodded. She looked beat.
‘Good girl,’ said Jessica patting her friend’s arm, and thinking.
I need to sort out this mess, pronto.
Bernie arrived at work. Lois greeted him in hushed tones. He waved.
‘As loud as you like, Lois; the spy has been outed.’
‘What happened?’
‘Last night, I tried to drug the lovely Kate.’
‘No!’ Lois opened her mouth in shock.
Bernie told all — the bathroom, the confession, the drugged coffee, the flooded flat, the escape, and the disconnected mobile. Battle lines were drawn.
War was declared.
17
LUCA DROVE ANIMAL to Gus and Daphne’s former Hawthorn home. It was dark. The criminals parked beside St James Park. Luca no longer attended the scenes of crime. He stayed free. Animal took instructions.
‘Get inside then call the scientist. Tell him if he wants to protect his folks, he’s gotta rock up with the formula. Don’t kill anyone. Just get that formula.’ Animal got out. ‘And get the right fucken house.’
‘Gotcha.’
Animal crossed Barton Street, and walked up Lennox.
Get the right house, Animal.
He found it and knocked.
He heard footsteps and then an elderly female voice.
‘Who is it?’
‘Sorry to trouble you, love,’ said the friendly Animal. ‘I’m from the Gas Company. There’s a gas leak, and we’re tellin’ everyone to turn off their appliances.’
Pause. Then the door opened and a face appeared.
‘We were in bed.’
‘I’m sorry, madam. Here’s me ID.’ He flashed the back of his credit card. ‘Perhaps I could check your meter for you.’
He moved inside, brushing past the resident.
‘Will we be all right?’
‘Is it just you and your husband?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Who is it?’ called a male voice.
Animal moved towards the voice. The old man was in bed. His wife appeared. Animal grabbed her frail arm, and shoved her. She screamed.
‘Shut up,’ snapped Animal. ‘Stay there.’
‘We haven’t got any money,’ said the man.’
Animal used his mobile. ‘Shut up,’ he snapped at the terrified pair. They were tenants on a short-term lease waiting for their new unit to be finished.
‘Hello,’ said the voice on the phone.
‘Mr Slim, I’m at your parents’ place, and you will come here, right now, with your formula or else.’
‘Who is this?’
‘Don’t piss me about. Have a listen to your dear old Mum.’
Animal crushed the woman’s fingers. She yelped in agony.
‘Now that was your mother, arsehole. If you don’t want her and your old man to cop a lot of pain, get here now — with that formula.’
The elderly residents added confusion to their fear.
‘Wait, wait,’ cried Bernie. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in your parents’ fucken bedroom.’
‘In Hawthorn?’
‘Yes, now get here or they die.’
‘You’re in the wrong house.’
Animal stalled.
Shit. I double-checked the number.
Animal asked. ‘What’s the number of your parents’ house in Lennox Street?’
Bernie told him and Animal relaxed.
‘That’s where I am, dickhead.’
‘But they’ve moved. Last week. I don’t know who those people are but they’re definitely not my parents.’
Again, Animal stalled. Then he twigged.
‘Nice try, prick. I’ll give you 20 minutes before I start breaking bones.’
He held the phone close to the woman, and yanked her hair. Bernie heard a pathetic scream before the line went dead.
Bernie’s mind buzzed.
What do I do? Call the cops? Does that mean my illegal drug will see me arrested? Who are those people? Could I save them, and turn this to my advantage? If I don’t turn up, will they die?
He grabbed his bag, opened his Uber app, and ran to Swan Street.
In the cab, he scribbled in a notepad. In Lennox Street, he paid the driver, and knocked on the house he recently sold for his folks.
Animal opened the door, pointing a gun. Bernie raised his hands.
‘Have you got it?’ Bernie nodded. ‘Give it to me — slowly.’
‘Where are my parents?’
‘Oh, so now they are your parents?’
‘I want to see them.’
‘Formula first.’
‘No.’ Bernie acted tough, although his hands shook, and his heart pounded. Animal relented.
If I shoot him and he hasn’t got the formula, I’m stuffed. And the boss said no killing.
‘Get in,’ he said, and Bernie moved to the bedroom.
Two complete strangers huddled on a bed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can.’
Animal pushed the gun against Bernie’s back. ‘The formula — now.’
‘I haven’t got it.’
Animal exploded. He raised his gun undecided between shooting and smashing. The old folks recoiled in horror. Bernie blurted his response.
‘It’s here already.’
Animal paused. ‘What?’
‘I hid it in my parents’ home.’
‘Show me.’
‘Not until I’ve helped my parents.’
‘Tell me or I’ll shoot your mother right now.’
He swung the gun pointing it straight at the woman. Everyone believed the gunman. Bernie persisted.
‘You shoot anyone and you’ll never get the formula.’ Animal paused.
Luca will kill me if I don’t get that formula.
‘Let me help my parents, and then I’ll give you what you want.’
Animal hated being beaten.
I’ll give the bastard one last chance.
‘Two minutes,’ he spat, ‘and no tricks.’
Bernie nodded. ‘I’ll make you a cuppa, Mum. And get you a beer, Pops. Stay there. I’ll be right back.’
He squeezed past a threatening Animal, and headed to the kitchen.
What am I saying? I’ve never called my father, Pops.
In the kitchen, he made tea and, from his bag, produced two small bottles of beer.
Animal appeared, looking back up the hallway.
‘Hurry up.’
Bernie kept busy. ‘Please check on my parents. My mother’s not well.’
Animal snorted, and headed towards the bedroom. Bernie opened the beers and tipped some MCP in to one. He put a small scratch on the label of that bottle. He took a mug of tea and the two bottles to the bedroom.
‘Here we are.’
He gave the tea to the woman. ‘Just as you like it, Mum,’ he smiled at the woman and winked. She took it, mumbling her thanks.
‘And a nightcap for you, Pops.’
Bernie looked at the bottles, and gave the one without the mark to the man. Animal didn’t see Bernie wink at the old man.
I hope he likes beer.
The man took it. Bernie raised his bottle and toasted the couple.
‘Here’s to the best parents in the world.’
He raised the bottle to his lips then stopped. ‘Oh I’m sorry. I’m forgetting my manners.’ He offered the bottle to Animal. ‘Here, as a sign of good faith.’
Animal looked at him, accepted the beer, and took a swig.
‘Now get me that formula.’
They went to the kitchen. Bernie pulled out a cutlery drawer, and fiddled. Animal watched.
Have another swig, matey.
Animal obliged, then grew impatient.
‘Come on, come on.’
Bernie made a show of finding the paper he put there five minutes ago, and gave it to Animal.
‘This
is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘All of it?’
‘All of it. Now can I please go back to my parents?’
‘A word of warning, pal. We know where you and your parents live. Tell the cops, tell anyone, and you and they are dead. Capiche?’
‘I won’t say a word. Just take the formula and go. I never want to see it or you again.’
Animal sneered, drained the bottle, and lobbed it at Bernie. Good catch. He flinched when Animal pointed his gun.
‘Bang,’ said the thug who laughed and left.
Bernie went to the bedroom.
‘He’s gone, it’s all over. Are you all right?’
‘Of course we’re not,’ almost shouted the man. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name’s John and I’ve never seen that man before.’
‘You had something he wanted,’ said the woman. ‘What was it?’
‘I work for a mining company. He wanted our test result formula.’
‘Will he come back?’ asked the woman.
‘And why did he think you were our son?’ asked the man.
‘I’ve no idea,’ explained Bernie. ‘But please, you must leave. Is there someone you can stay with tonight?’
The couple chatted then told Bernie they would leave.
‘I think that’s really wise.’ He offered to help but they declined.
‘We’ll be fine,’ said the woman. ‘And thank you for your help.’
Bernie apologised again and left.
If I call the cops, I’ll have to explain the drug. The testing is illegal and I’ll be in big trouble. Who was that criminal? And how did he know about the formula? This is out of control.
‘Piece of piss,’ said Animal handing the formula to Luca.
‘Tell me you didn’t kill anyone.’
‘I’m a pro, boss.’
Luca looked at the scientific writing. It meant nothing to him. He set off for South Yarra. They parked, and Animal stayed in the car.
Ralph was watching an episode of Breaking Bad on DVD. The buzzer caused him angst. He hit Pause, moved to the hallway, and spoke behind both front doors.
‘Who is it?’
‘Father Fucken Christmas.’
Ralph recognized the voice. ‘Go away. I’m no longer involved.’
‘I’ve got the formula, Dickhead. Here it is.’