by Peter Corris
‘In the garage.’
‘We’ll take it and put mine down there.’
Another few minutes, a couple of zaps of the remote control, and we were on the road in O’Connor’s silver grey Beemer with the Mitsubishi safely tucked away from eyes in the sky and on the ground.
O’Connor was driving with me beside him and Master in the back, and as soon as we turned out of his street he asked where we were going.
‘Good question,’ I said. ‘Master?’
‘Other side,’ he grunted.
‘Tunnel or bridge?’ O’Connor said.
‘Whatever you fuckin’ please.’
He sounded ragged again and I opened O’Connor’s briefcase, ignoring his protest, and took out the thermos and packet of herbal kick-starters. I passed them back to Master. ‘You have to get a grip. You were about to tell us something back there when my phone interrupted you.’
Master accepted the thermos and I heard him screw the top off and pour. The BMW held the road like a snake slithering on glass. I heard him break the tablets out of the foil, drink and swallow, drink again, and replace the thermos cap.
‘Fuck, that was strong. I’ve changed my mind, Hardy. How do you get in touch with Piper?’
‘I’ve got a number to ring.’
‘Do it!’
‘Oh shit,’ O’Connor whispered.
‘What?’ Master and I spoke simultaneously.
‘I’m almost out of petrol. I wasn’t expecting to go touring around with-’
‘Shut up!’ Master sounded more alert and focused already. Maybe my metabolism’s wrong for Guarana. ‘This is your territory. Where’s the nearest service station?’
‘I don’t know. I fuel up where I park. In the city.’
‘Fuckin’ yuppies,’ Master said. ‘Hardy?’
‘I’m inner-west. This is downtown Baghdad to me.’
O’Connor’s fleshy pink knuckles were whitening on the wheel. I looked at the gauge and saw that it was dipping below empty.
‘There!’ Master snapped. ‘Pull in at that BP.’ He was suddenly fully charged and I had to wonder how many of the pills he’d taken, or if they were what O’Connor said they were, and just how strong O’Connor had brewed the coffee, or what else he might have put in it. Then I heard the slide on Master’s pistol as he cocked it.
‘While he’s getting the gas, Hardy, you make that call.’
O’Connor slotted the car in to a pump, got out and looked helplessly at the mechanism.
‘He doesn’t know what to do,’ I said to Master. ‘And I’m not sure my mobile’s going to operate in here with all this shit around. We’re going to attract attention. I’m going to help him and then make the call. Okay?’
There was a silence that felt like a minute but was probably only seconds. ‘All right, Hardy. You pay. He gets straight back in. I almost trust you. But I’ll blow your fucking brains out if you… shit, I feel weird…’
I got out of the car with the hair on the back of my head bristling, thinking that Master could snap at any minute. I helped O’Connor unhook the pump and get the petrol flowing.
‘What did you put in the coffee?’ I muttered as we bent over the hose.
‘Nothing.’
‘The pills, then?’
He sniggered. ‘Rohypnol in a Guarana box. It’ll jazz him up for a while and then he’ll be flat on his face.’
‘You’re a sneaky bastard.’
‘I’m a lawyer. It’s expected.’
I glanced at the car. Master was staring suspiciously at us and his eyes had a fixed, haunted look. I flipped open the mobile phone and felt in my jacket pocket for the napkin with Piper’s number.
‘Who’s this?’ Not Piper’s voice.
‘Cliff Hardy for Andy Piper.’
‘Hang on.’
Piper’s gravelly growl came on the line. ‘What the fuck d’you want, Hardy?’
I had to think quickly. Was a phone Piper used likely to be bugged? Probably not. How would he react to what I had to tell him? With luck, it’d shake him up a bit. ‘I’ve talked with Stewart Master. He’s armed and he’s angry and he’s hopped up on something. I had to tell him about our deal.’
‘Fuck you!’
‘He’s all right about it. Wait a minute.’ O’Connor was looking helpless as the pump clicked off. I waved him back to the car and put the pump back on the stand.
‘Hardy,’ O’Connor muttered. ‘This is our chance. Come on. You’re a business person, a professional, not an antisocial criminal like him.’
I hesitated but only for a split second. O’Connor was for self-preservation at any cost and I’ve never been that way. I snarled at him to get back in the car and he did.
When I had the phone back to my ear Piper was spluttering.
‘Don’t tell me to wait, you cunt.’
‘Shut up and listen. The shit’s hit the fan. The cops are looking for me and I’ve more or less kidnapped Master’s lawyer. Master’s got some sort of idea about where his wife might be but he’s holding off until I come up with something. If you’ve found out anything at all, tell me. I need to string him along.’
I heard him shout at someone to turn a race call down and then he came back on the line. ‘I still get the hundred thousand.’
‘If it works out, yes. Come on.’
‘It’s not much, and it might be more to do with the shipment than this cunt North, but there’s some connection. I’m hearing about a guy named Starcevich and his flash boat.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it.’
‘That’s not worth a hundred grand.’
‘It’s not bad for a couple of hours and it fucking better be worth it.’
He hung up. Black Andy at his best. I put the phone away, checked the amount on the pump and went in to pay. We’d been there too long with too big a chance of attracting attention. I hurried back to the car to find O’Connor sitting white-faced behind the wheel and Master swearing at him and waving his gun around.
‘Get started, O’Connor. Knock it off, Master. D’you want everybody around to take a second and third look at you?’
O’Connor got the car moving and Master subsided. His mood swings were impossible to anticipate and getting more violent. One minute he was in control, then he was ranting. He was quiet for a short spell and then he said, ‘Well, what did you learn?’
‘Does the name Starcevich mean anything to you?’
I heard the upholstery hiss as he slumped back against the seat and I turned around. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said. ‘I know it.’
I twisted back to make sure O’Connor was headed for the bridge before turning again to look at Master. He was a mess; the drug was working on him but he was fighting it with everything he had.
‘I don’t know where North lives or what boltholes he might have,’ Master said slowly, battling to keep from slurring. ‘But I do know someone who’s involved in getting the shipment to where it’s supposed to go and I know that North and he are friends, as much as anyone could be a friend to a prick like him. That’s Ray Starcevich.’
‘If you knew that, why didn’t you go straight for him?’
‘I did. He’s got a boat at the Watsons Bay marina. I went there but they said he was out on the water. Then Bryce here convinced me you were on the ball and that it’d be worth my while to see you first. Fuck knows that it has been.’
I thought about it as we approached the bridge. Boats had figured generally in this bloody business from the start- Reg Penny’s yacht, the drug shipment coming by boat, Lorrie mentioning that she had a yacht. For no good reason I said, ‘That’s where Lorries boat is.’
Master’s tired head jerked. ‘What? Lorrie hasn’t got a boat.’
‘She told me she has and you didn’t know about it. It’s called the
… some kind of red wine…’
‘Jesus,’ Master said. His pale eyes, red-rimmed now from fatigue and stress, went hard. ‘You’ve seen it? You’ve been on it… with her?’
> I kept my eyes steady on his and a fist ready to fire in case he lost it completely. ‘Don’t be stupid. No. She just mentioned it early on, when I was getting the picture about you and her and all this.’
‘What does all this babble mean?’ O’Connor said as he slowed to join the traffic selecting lanes.
‘It means we’re headed for Watsons Bay,’ I said. ‘So make sure you get in the right lane.’
The marina and yacht club were located to the south of Camp Cove, putting them close to Vaucluse. That might have made it more expensive but around here it hardly mattered- a coffee could cost five bucks. O’Connor knew the way because he’d been there earlier in the day with Master when he failed to find Starcevich. Master had fallen quiet in the back and O’Connor was gaining in confidence by the minute.
‘He’s falling asleep,’ O’Connor whispered. ‘If I drive around for a few minute-’
‘Don’t even think it.’ Master could hardly say the words; it wasn’t much of a threat.
The marina had three jetties about twenty-five metres apart with moorings on both sides of each. The daylight was beginning to fade and most of the activity was of the pack-up-and-go kind. Boats again, I thought. I was beginning to hate the bloody things. ‘Where was Starcevich’s boat supposed to be?’
‘Jetty one,’ Master mumbled. ‘Ballina Belle.’
‘Have some more coffee and try to stay with it,’ I said. ‘I’m going to check something out.’
‘What the fuck’s wrong with me?’
‘O’Connor drugged you. Don’t hurt him unless you have to, just keep him here. Back in a minute.’
I got out and walked towards the marina office searching my memory for the name of Lorrie’s boat. Yalumba?. Penfold? Then it came to me- Merlot. The woman in the office looked about ready to call it a day but there were still a few people moving around. I had no idea what security was like at a marina, but I didn’t see any high gates or electronic equipment.
‘Excuse me, is Mrs Master’s yacht, the Merlot, around?’
‘Around? What do you mean around?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with boatspeak. Is it here?’
She pointed to jetty three. ‘She’s moored there.’
‘The thing is, Mrs Master’s thinking of selling it. I’ve got her lawyer here, a Mr O’Connor and the prospective buyer. I wonder if we could take a look at her?’
Suddenly her level of interest went up ten notches. ‘That poor woman. I helped her learn to sail. She caught on quick. Then there was that trial. I read all about it.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘O’Connor. That’s the name of the guy who defended her hubby, right?’
I nodded. ‘Right.’
‘I saw a photo of him. Fatty. He’s here?’
I pointed back to the BMW.
‘He didn’t do such a flash job. I’m surprised she has him as her lawyer.’
I shrugged. ‘They get their claws in. Can we look at the… yacht?’
‘I guess so.’
There was one more bridge to cross. ‘Thanks. I suppose you’ve been busy, nice day like this, long weekend coming up?’
‘Flat tacked. Haven’t lifted my head.’
So with any luck she didn’t know about Master’s escape. ‘Okay. Thank you. We’ll go and take a look.’
She tapped her watch. ‘I’m off in a few minutes. I’ll tell the night guy.’
‘Don’t bother,’ I said. ‘We won’t be long.’
I went back to the car, opened the rear door and helped Master to sit up. I relieved him of the guns and he didn’t protest. ‘You’re going to have to make an effort, Stewie,’ I said. ‘Just a short walk and then you can lie down and sleep and with any luck you’ll be safe.’
His pupils were pinpricks and his pulse was racing. I opened O’Connor’s briefcase, retrieved his mobile phone and handed it to him. Then O’Connor and I got Master on his feet and moving. Luckily, he was light and even two-thirds spaced he was coordinated enough to make it possible for two big men to support him.
‘What’re we doing?’ O’Connor hissed.
‘We’re getting him onto Lorrie’s boat. When we reach the office you give the woman in there a smile. She knows you.’
He did it and we manoeuvred Master along the jetty and down onto the deck of the Merlot. I used the picks attached to my Swiss army knife to pick the lock on the door leading to the boat’s saloon. Master was almost out to it by the time we got him comfortable. I could feel O’Connor getting ready to be the super-professional again and that was the last thing I wanted.
‘Take off his shoes,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘You heard. Do it.’
Doing the menial task deflated him a bit, especially as he made a mess of it.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘This is the way I see it. You’ve harboured an escaped criminal, driven him and drugged him. Your prints’ll be all over the packet, and what you could be doing with a supply of the date-rape drug I hate to think. Your reputation’s about to take a nose-dive.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I’m very serious. I can put you deep in the shit or keep you out of it altogether. It’s up to you.’
‘W-what do you want me to do?’
‘Simple. Just stay here with Master until I contact you.’
‘How long will that be?’
‘Hard to say. If Starcevich’s not there it’ll be a matter of minutes. If he is it’ll be longer.’
‘What’re you going to do?’
I looked at Master lying stretched out on the seat in the saloon. His eyes were closed and his features had relaxed and he was breathing easily, innocent as a trout in a pool. In my estimation he’d handled himself pretty well through all this so far and might have continued to do so but for O’Connor’s intervention. Out of prison, with appropriate clothes, money and a gun, he’d had a lot of options, but he’d chosen to check on his kids and try to help his wife. I thought about the sterility and heartlessness of Avonlea and didn’t want to be a party to putting him back there if I could help it.
I had two pistols and I felt like throwing them overboard. Master’s, I certainly would. ‘What would you expect?’ I said to O’Connor. ‘You reckon I’m going to go over there with guns blazing?’
O’Connor nodded.
‘Forget it. I’m doing what you wanted me to do all along. I’m calling the police.’
27
I crossed on a pontoon that ran between the jetties and squinted in the gloom at the boats lined up along jetty one. They were all shapes and sizes but mostly big. A few people were still on board tidying away or preparing for tomorrow’s sail or whatever boaties do last thing. The Ballina Belle was one of the biggest-a long, two masted white thing that made Reg Penny’s boat look like a bathtub and the Merlot look very modest. I took up a position about thirty metres away, protected by a high-riding catamaran. Show yourselves, I pleaded silently. On cue, a man appeared from below with a bucket attached to a rope. He dropped the bucket into the water and hauled it up. He was big, bearded and dark, not Warren North. He handled the full bucket carefully, watching to make sure none of the water splashed on the deck. Couldn’t have that.
North’s appearance a few seconds later registered with me almost as a physical shock. Even at that distance and in that light he was recognisable from the photograph, and his movements were those of the gunman I’d glimpsed briefly- smooth, fluid. The two men spoke, then North stepped over the side and onto the jetty. That put paid to my plan to get the police. Had I ever really meant to play it that way or was I just comforting O’Connor? It wasn’t an option now with North on the move. He walked purposefully towards the entrance to the marina and I fell in discreetly behind him, moving across to the next jetty as soon as I could. He appeared relaxed and confident and I didn’t like the look of things. If he’d managed to work the situation out to his own advantage somehow, Lorrie was no longer of any value to him.
I gained on him, walking quiet
ly, with traffic noise from the road above helping. It was dark in the section of the car park he was approaching and he pulled keys from his pocket as he neared a new-looking Volvo station wagon. He worked the remote and released the door. I didn’t have time to consider. I charged him, head down, and slammed the door into him. He was totally off guard and collapsed, hitting his head twice as he went down. He was unconscious and bleeding from a wound above his ear. I crouched in the shelter of the car and felt his pulse. Strong. I used my Swiss army knife to cut his T-shirt from his body and then used the strongest parts of it to strap his feet together and bind his hands behind his back. I tore a thin, well-stitched strip, and gagged him with it, pushing some of the material into his mouth. Not enough to choke him, but enough to keep him quiet. I bundled him into the back and collapsed the back seat rest onto him.
There was a packet of tissues on the front seat and I used one to prevent leaving a print as I opened the glove box. His pistol with the silencer detached sat there under a much-thumbed UBD. I closed the glove box and walked away, leaving the keys on the bonnet.
Things were quieter but not yet still at the marina and I strode in, giving a confident signal to the night watchman. ‘A quick word with Ray Starcevich.’
He nodded and I went back along the jetty towards the Ballina Belle. I didn’t know how much time I had so there was no room for subtlety. I stepped over the side and approached the steps leading below. ‘Ray,’ I said. ‘You there?’
Maybe he was expecting someone, maybe I sounded a little like North, but he climbed the steps and I waited until he was almost at the top before I jumped out and kicked him in the crotch. He tumbled down the steps and I went down after him with my. 38 in my hand and ready to punch or kick again if I had to. There was no need. Starcevich lay groaning at the bottom of the steps with his arm twisted at an impossible angle. He tried to lever himself up using both hands and screamed with pain.
‘Who the fuck’re you? Where’s Warren?’
‘Warren’s out of the picture. Where is she?’
I had the gun hard in his groin and I was very calm and he was very afraid. He jerked his head towards a short passageway.