by Peter Corris
‘What’s the time?’
A looked at his watch, then he grinned. ‘What do you care? It’s afternoon.’
‘I could do with some water.’
‘Get him a glass of water,’ A said.
That confirmed the hierarchy. B went out, leaving the door open. I was pretty sure I could hear traffic, so I wasn’t out in the bush and it wasn’t a big house. A kicked the door shut.
‘Why did you do that?’
No answer.
‘She’s in the house, isn’t she?’
The flicker of annoyance crossing his face told me I was right. B came back and handed me the water in a plastic cup—light as a feather, useless. I drank it and flipped the cup at him. He fumbled the catch and swore.
The door opened and a man walked in carrying a chair. He set it down about a metre away from me and jerked his head at A and B. They left and the newcomer took his seat after carefully gauging the distance between us and moving the chair back half a metre.
He was medium-sized, dark, with short hair and heavy stubble. He wore a well-cut grey suit and the slight bulge under the jacket on the left said holstered gun.
‘How’s the head?’
‘Not too bad. Are you going to tell me what’s going on here? Where’s Penelope?’
‘She’s here, undamaged.’
‘Better be.’
‘You’re not really in a position to say something like that, are you?’
I didn’t answer.
He rubbed the bristles on his face, already sprouting so early in the day. ‘You can call me Jones.’
‘All right, Jones, what’s going on?’
‘Let’s get things straight at your end. You’re a private detective working for Melanie Kim’s brother to deal with the man known sometimes as Sean Bright. You located him through some pretty smart detective work and were just getting the lay of the land when you became careless.’
‘She told you all that?’
‘She did.’
‘What did you do to her?’
‘Nothing, I told you. It seems she cares about you. She told me because I said I’d kill you if she didn’t. That’s all it took.’
He was sitting very still, not fidgeting, a serious man.
‘What are you?’
‘If I told you I was a member of the Federal Police would you believe me?’
‘No.’
‘What if I told you I used to be in the Federal Police and now I do similar work in a private . . . no, a corporate capacity.’
He was trying to induce me to say yes. It was a standard bonding technique—start small with yes and work up. I said nothing.
‘Ms Milton-Smith says you intended to have the police arrest Bright.’
‘That was one of the options.’
‘Yes, you have something of a vigilante reputation, but I’m inclined to think that’s what you’d have done. I’m afraid I can’t allow that to happen.’
‘How would you stop me?’
‘Very simply, by holding Ms Milton-Smith to ensure your compliance.’ He flipped his hand over. ‘The other side of the coin, you see—her concern for you, your concern for her.’
‘Why?’
‘Bright has been foolish enough to attempt to blackmail several people. One of those people was foolish enough to try to enlist our help. But we’re more concerned with what Bright is blackmailing this person about, rather than protecting him.’
‘So, why don’t you just grab Bright and get hold of the information he has? Then let him take the consequences. He’s a murderer—and a rapist, by the way.’
‘That’s deplorable, but it’s not so simple. You see Bright has an accomplice and he’s threatened that if any action is taken against him, his accomplice releases all the information to the media and the authorities. You can see how that would not be in our interest.’
If Jones had been a Federal cop it must have been at a high level. Everything about him bespoke intelligence, experience and success. It was a powerful combination, adding up to a persuasive and compelling personality. I struggled to keep my mental distance from him.
‘I can see how you’ve got yourself in a bind.’
‘For the moment, yes. But we’re working on finding out who the accomplice is. We have massive surveillance on Bright, physical, electronic, the works. That’s why you couldn’t be allowed to blunder in.’
I started thinking about candidates for Bright’s accomplice. ‘Pondering?’ Jones said. ‘Haven’t I made myself clear?’
‘Tell me, when did your . . . organisation start to take an interest in this? Does it have a name, by the way?’
‘Various names that need not concern you. We became involved when Rory O’Hara made his announcement about politicians being interested in joining his new party. We’d already targeted this individual I’ve referred to and thought it likely he was among them.’
‘You must have been alarmed when Bright killed the Korean woman.’
‘Not particularly. Unpleasant things happen when big money and big projects are at stake. A good many things deemed accidents are actually not, as you probably know.’
‘Hence your threat to kill me.’
‘A threat is just words, but yes, if need be. I’ve said all I have to say to you, Hardy. If you’re hoping to talk your way out of this, you’re mistaken.’
I straightened up in the chair and spoke with more confidence than I felt. ‘I think I might be able to help you find the accomplice. My involvement goes back further and deeper than yours.’
He rubbed his bristles again, his wedding ring scraping against the stubble. ‘I think you’re bluffing.’
‘I’m not bluffing. I’ve got a shrewd idea I know the person you want. And I think you’re at a stalemate. You need a breakthrough, Mr Jones.’
He sighed. ‘Of course you’d impose conditions.’
‘Quite a few, yes.’
‘Such as?’
‘You give me free rein to go back to Sydney to find the man I’m thinking of. No supervision.’
‘If I agree to that, you’d see that I’d have to keep the woman.’
‘Yes, but you’d have to allow me to talk to her first and guarantee her safety and comfort.’
He nodded. ‘What else?’
‘If it all works out and you get the information you want or confirm that it doesn’t exist, that neutralises Bright, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you help me to arrange his arrest for the murder of Melanie Kim.’
‘That could be a pleasure. Give me a minute to think about this.’
His thinking involved a fair bit of stubble-stroking and gazing out the window. He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered it to me. I shook my head. He lit his cigarette with a lighter and took a deep drag.
‘As I said, I know something of your reputation. I talked to some of my former colleagues in the Federal Police. I believe you’ve had dealings with them?’
‘Once or twice.’
‘They dislike you of course, but they admit that you are persistent and see things through.’
‘I’m like a dog with a bone.’
‘I’m inclined to take a chance on you.’
‘Won’t you need to consult a higher power?’
‘Now you’re being offensive.’ He went to the door and spoke quietly to someone, A and B entered the room and B used a Swiss Army knife to cut the plastic restraint. He nicked my wrist and it bled a little.
‘We’ll put Ms Milton-Smith in the picture,’ Jones said. ‘All three of us are armed, so no heroics.’
* * *
The hardest thing then was reconciling Pen to the arrangement and I didn’t succeed. The room where she was held was considerably more comfortable than the one I’d been in, bigger, with a double bed, a closet, a desk and chair and an ensuite. Pen was sitting in an armchair looking furious when we trooped in.
‘What’s going on, Cliff? Who are these bastards?’
Jones
gestured for B to leave. A leaned against the door, Jones sat at the desk, I sat on the bed and explained the circumstances to Pen. She kept interrupting and shaking her head.
‘You have no choice, Ms Milton-Smith,’ Jones said.
‘Marinos,’ Pen said. ‘I’ve decided to go back to my real name. Deprivation of liberty is a serious crime. How long d’you plan to keep it up?’
‘Well, that’s an important question,’ Jones said. ‘How long, Hardy?’
‘A week.’
‘Four days.’
‘Who is this accomplice you’re both on about?’
‘I can’t tell you, Pen.’
The look she gave me was icy and her tone was detached, clinical. ‘Your forehead and your wrist are bleeding.’
‘He’ll be patched up,’ Jones said. ‘That’s all. Hardy, your time starts now.’
22
The doctor cleaned the cuts and applied some antiseptic and bandaids. Jones handed me my anorak and a slip of paper with two mobile phone numbers written on it.
‘Your gun’s in the glove box of your car and the bullets are in the pocket of your jacket. You’ll phone me when you have something to report.’
‘Suppose I don’t have anything to report?’
‘Then I think it unlikely you’ll ever see Ms . . . Marinos again.’
We were standing, Jones, A and B and me, on the porch of a suburban house sheltered from the road by a high hedge. I’d heard voices at the back of the house, so Pen hadn’t been left unguarded.
‘No harm in you seeing where we are,’ Jones said, ‘because we won’t be here long.’
‘Do you guarantee she’ll be kept somewhere at least as comfortable as where she is now?’
‘Better. These blokes will accompany you in your car back to your motel. You’ll give them Ms Marinos’s clothing and personal effects.’
Jones went back into the house. A jabbed me in the ribs with a pistol, B twisted my arm up behind my back and we walked to a carport where the Falcon stood.
‘In the back,’ A said.
I climbed in with him following me. B got behind the wheel.
‘I hope you can drive a manual,’ I said.
B started the engine, had trouble finding reverse and kangaroo-hopped.
‘Thought not. Takes an honest man to drive an old Falcon.’ ‘Shut up,’ A said.
B tried again, stalled and swore.
‘Can’t catch, can’t drive,’ I said. ‘What good is he?’
B turned around, his face a mask of fury. A told him to calm down and get the hang of driving the manual. After a few false starts he had the car moving and managed a few grating gear changes.
‘He’s stuffing my gearbox.’
‘I told you to shut up. Just concentrate on what you have to do to prevent you and the woman ending up dead.’
A sign told me the suburb was Scullin. The Belconnen Way took us back to the city. The driver had an aggressive style and once he’d got the feel of the car he enjoyed going full pelt and changing lanes.
‘Handles well,’ he said.
‘Who cares?’ A said.
We pulled up outside the room and A produced the key as we got out of the car. They herded me to the door, which A unlocked.
‘After you,’ he said.
We went in. The room had been cleaned and made neat. I packed Pen’s clothes into the overnight bag. The spike-heeled boots wouldn’t fit.
A pointed to the big shopping bag that held her dress-up items. ‘What about that?’
‘She won’t want it.’
B emptied the contents onto the bed and whistled. He picked up the boots.
‘You’re a lucky man,’ he said. ‘I’d like to see her in this gear.’
That was just enough distraction. I took one step and hit him as hard as I could just above the belt buckle. The wind went out of him in a rush and he bent double. I thumped his forehead with the heel of my hand and he collapsed to the floor.
‘Now we’re even,’ I said.
I turned to A. ‘Give me the room key and the car keys, pick him up and the two of you can piss off.’
A didn’t speak. He helped B, still gasping for breath, to his feet, reached into B’s pocket and got the car keys. He threw them and the motel key on the bed. I handed him the bag with Pen’s things in it. He helped B to the door where he turned and gave me a hard stare.
‘We’ll see you again, Hardy.’
‘I hope so. Tell your mate not to be ashamed. I just did to him what Fitzsimmons did to Corbett. Legitimate blow.’
‘You’re mad.’
‘Do you mean insane or angry? Maybe I’m both.’
He shook his head and they left, B limping and swearing and A abusing him. I shut the door and opened the mini-bar.
Half an hour later, with some scotch and paracetamol inside me, packed and checked out, I was on the road to Sydney. Pen’s sexy outfit was in a wheelie bin at the motel and her boots were on the back seat. Her last expression stayed with me until well back inside New South Wales.
My target was Gordon Glassop. I remembered how nervous he was when I’d questioned him in the bus on the way back from Wollongong. At the time I’d put it down to the events of the night before and his innate wimpiness. I remembered Kelly saying that Glassop had splashed money around. I’d thought it was money O’Hara and Pen had paid him for documents, but O’Hara had said that wasn’t much. And how did Bright know to go to Darwin after them? It looked to me as if Glassop was cooperating with Bright, probably not willingly. Bright was a scary character, but given the way I was feeling, so was I.
Pen obviously knew how to contact Glassop but I couldn’t afford to mention his name in front of Jones and co. When I reached the city I pulled over and rang the mobile number O’Hara had given me.
‘This is Rory.’
‘This is Hardy.’
‘Hardy. Jesus Christ, what do you want?’
‘Do you know where Gordon Glassop lives?’
‘Why?’
‘Just answer the question.’
‘The answer is no and if I did know I wouldn’t tell you where he is because you’d tell him where I am and I owe him money.’
‘Who would know?’
‘Pen.’
I didn’t respond. There was a pause and then a triumphant tone entered his voice.
‘She’s not with you. Well, well, didn’t work out, eh?’
I hung up. Kelly had said that Glassop had tried to get her to fuck him and she’d played along far enough to be able to borrow money from him. Had she played along as far as his place?
It was after 6 pm and I was tired, but four days isn’t long to find someone. I drove to Riley Street in Surry Hills, parked illegally and rang the bell at Kelly’s house.
The woman who answered was blonde and dressed not unlike the way Pen had in her siren role.
‘You’re early,’ she said.
‘I’m not your client, darling. I’m looking for Kelly Scott.’
She heaved a theatrical sigh, her heavy breasts rose. ‘Cop?’ ‘Sort of.’
‘She’s in the pub. Fuck off.’
I used the same ATM as before and drew out $500. There were smokers on the footpath outside the pub and inside it was dark, crowded and noisy with a combination of music, poker machines and conversation. I worked my way to the bar, bought a beer, and began to move between the tables and the clusters of standing drinkers. Eventually I located Kelly at a table in a group of four, two men and two women.
Kelly was drunk. I could hear her voice above the din as she abused one of the men. She was waving her glass around, threatening to spill whatever was in it on people standing nearby. The other woman in the group was pawing at Kelly and the other man was looking annoyed. He grabbed the woman, pulled her off her chair and dragged her away. Kelly drained her glass and handed it to the remaining man. He shook his head and walked away. Kelly slumped against the wall, fumbling in her bag.
‘Hello, Kel,’ I said. ‘How�
��s it going?’
She squinted at me blearily. Her hair was greasy and tangled and her heavy eye-makeup was smudged; her silk dress was stained and her jacket was ash-smeared.
‘It’s non-fucking Cliff Hardy. Changed your mind, Cliffy? Looking for a root?’
‘No, for information, like before.’
‘Infor-fucking-mation, that’s all you care about. Buy me a drink.’
‘You’ve had enough. I saw the barman looking at you. I don’t think he’d serve me one for you. You’re close to being chucked out.’
‘Who gives a shit?’ She took a packet of cigarettes from her bag.
‘You can’t smoke in here. Come outside. We’ll find somewhere you can smoke and have some coffee. I’ll make it worth your while.’
‘My while ain’t worth much. Hey, that’s a joke.’
Tears appeared in her eyes. She was close to breaking down. I put my arm around her, eased her off the chair, hooked her bag over her shoulder and guided her to the door. She staggered when the cold air hit her. I held her while she stumbled to the gutter and vomited convulsively. One of the smokers laughed, then cut the laugh off short when I looked at him.
I straightened her up and gave her a tissue to wipe her mouth. She leaned against me and began to cry.
‘Come on, take some deep breaths.’
‘Jesus, I’m a mess.’
‘Temporarily,’ I said.
I steered her down the street to a coffee bar with tables on the footpath. I sat her down. A waiter came out and looked at us dubiously—a dishevelled woman and a man with sticking plaster on his forehead and, to judge from the reaction I’d just had, a very threatening look.
I showed him a $20 note. ‘Water, and two long blacks.’
Kelly sat with her head bowed. The waiter came back with a carafe of water and two glasses. I fished in Kelly’s bag, found a pocket packet of tissues and wet several. I put them on the table in front of her.
‘Clean yourself up. You’ll feel better.’
Without lifting her head, she used the tissues. The coffee arrived. I took her cigarettes from her bag and passed them to her. Still not looking at me, she shook her head. I poured her some water and she drank it.