by Brian Smith
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want him to know he’s been seen, you dickhead,’ Reardon scoffed. ‘And remember your promise to me.’
‘I understand. You can trust me.’
‘Can I? I hope so. There are very few I do trust. You have no idea why he would be there?’
‘Not a clue,’ Mike lied. He had been doing quite a bit of that lately. Perhaps Reardon shouldn’t trust him. Already it seemed he had divided loyalties in various directions: Alan Reardon, Vern McKenzie and Ben Findlay as well.
‘How do you get on with McKenzie?
‘I owe a lot to Vern and he’s been Jim Findlay’s loyal offsider for years,’ Mike replied quickly and then hesitated, his tongue flicking his lips. ‘Only recently I’ve realised how bitter he is about Jim bringing his son into the firm.’ Mike felt the pain of his admission, an admission he had trouble making to himself and now to a man he hardly knew. ‘Ben Findlay is a bit of a liability and hard to take – the other day I had a major run-in with him, myself.’ Mike could hear himself desperately trying to find some form of vindication for Vern. ‘I still can’t see Vern ever doing anything to harm the firm.’ It was true. Mike hadn’t liked the plan Vern put to him last week, but he said it was the way to save Findlay’s. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘I’ll continue digging. There’s something brewing, which goes far beyond some shifty practices on the Riverside site. I need to discover more and you need to keep your eye on McKenzie – find out why he’s meeting with Rossi and Sarac.’ Alan downed the remnant of his drink. ‘I’ll call a cab. Where’s your car?’
‘It’s just up the side street a bit.’
‘I’d stay clear of the side streets if I were you. Bruno Kordic is a nasty type and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was looking to pay you back. Sure you don’t want to share my cab?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
Alan called a cab from his mobile and Mike continued to mull over what Alan had told him. ‘Have you told George Fowler what you’re doing?’
‘I prefer to keep this to myself at present. Safer that way.’
‘But you’ve told me?’
‘Yeah, I have. I need to get a better fix on McKenzie.’
They sat looking at one another awkwardly until Mike asked him about his time in the west. ‘Had a few problems,’ he said guardedly. ‘But I’ve put all that behind me now. I’ll just go and stand where I can see the street. I don’t want the cab to nick off if I don’t appear immediately.’
Alan rose from his seat and patted Mike gently on the arm.
‘Take care.’
Mindful of Alan’s warning, a warning which echoed the one from Shane, Mike scanned the street carefully from the doorway of the pub and found it deserted. Almost to his car, he passed into the darkness under one of the spreading trees that lined the street when a figure stepped from behind the tree and he found himself facing a snarling Bruno. ‘I said you’d keep, you bastard.’
Mike tried to duck past him, but Kordic shot out a hand and grasped his jacket. Mike pushed at him but could not get free and Bruno brought his other arm up to take him in a bear hug. Slowly the pain built as the thug squeezed the air out of him, until it reached a crescendo and Kordic swung him off his feet into the side fence of a cobbled lane running off the street. Darkness enveloped him as his head hit the edge of a fence post, splitting his eyebrow. He felt the ground rushing to meet him. He stretched out his hands to cushion his fall but they got caught in the gaps between the bluestone pitchers, bending his fingers so that he scraped his knuckles and added to his pain.
Winded and only partly conscious he heard Bruno’s footsteps coming towards him. It was a repeat of last Tuesday night, but this time there was no crowbar to save him from a kicking. He drew in his body against the boot which was about to strike him, but the pain of the first kick to his side was intense. Kordic had drawn back his leg for a second time when Mike heard the sound of a police siren coming towards them. The kick he expected did not come. Instead, a voice he did not recognise hissed, ‘Come on. The cops are on to us.’ Mike opened his eyes and felt the sting of blood flowing from his eyebrow. At the head of the lane a man in a baseball cap stood with his arms outstretched and his hands upturned in a pleading gesture. Was this Rick Jennings, the other man in the photograph? Kordic turned and began to run from the alley, but the police car flew past the end of the street, taking with it Mike’s despairing hopes. Mike saw Kordic stop and walk back towards him.
‘You don’t want to kill him,’ Jennings said anxiously.
‘Fuck off. He’s had this comin’ to him.’
‘Come on. Remember what the boss said. We’re late already.’
Bruno grunted and took another pace towards Mike who rolled over in a desperate attempt to give himself some protection. Instead of the pain of a boot thudding into him, he felt the pressure of Kordic’s foot bearing down on his side, followed by the unlikely sound of a zip being released. He felt a warm stream flowing on to his head and down his face. The salty taste and smell of urine came to him as he squirmed under the flow but was too weak to break free. The stream moved down his shirt and on to his pants before coming back up to his face and stopping.
‘That’ll ’ave t’do,’ Bruno said. He took his foot from Mike’s side and zipped himself up before walking back down the lane to join the other man.
Cautiously Mike raised himself to a sitting position and ducked his head between his knees as a wave of nausea broke over him. He remained in this position until the discomfort from the cobbles pressing into his backside suggested he might now manage to stand. Uncertainly he achieved this and walked slowly to his car, unlocked the door and edged painfully into the driving seat where he sat staring blankly at the dark road running down to the lights of Nicholson Street. There was no trace of Bruno or his accomplice. The only signs of life were some intermittent cars on the main street and a tram thundering along its track. What should he do now? Should he drive himself to casualty and get himself checked out? In the state he was in, they would think he was some kind of derelict. He’d been shamed enough for one night. Should he go to the police? What could they do? Best to drive home and clean himself up. But he wasn’t in a state to drive yet. Mike snuggled back into the seat and dropped into a fragmentary half sleep.
Later he stirred enough to glance at his watch – 9.30. Probably he could make it home now.
10
The shrill insistence of his phone woke Mike from a troubled sleep. ‘Yeah,’ he said groggily.
‘Mike, it’s Mary.’
‘Yeah,’ he repeated, more awake now and conscious of a dull ache in his head.
‘Shane hasn’t come home.’
Mike glanced at the clock radio beside the bed. It was showing 5.46.
‘Who is it?’ Lissa asked sleepily.
He put his hand on her shoulder to silence her. ‘When did you last see him?’ he asked.
‘Did you call him last night?’
‘No.’
‘But you saw him yesterday afternoon at the gym,’ Mary insisted.
‘What’s going on?’ Lissa asked.
‘Just a tick,’ he said to Mary and took the phone from his ear. ‘It’s Mary. Shane went out last night and hasn’t come home.’
He returned to the phone.
‘Maybe he’s had a night out with his mates and is sleeping it off somewhere. I wouldn’t get too worried just yet.’
‘Shane said you came into the gym yesterday and made a silly fuss. He made a joke of it, but I could tell he was really pissed off with you and I didn’t blame him. What did you say to him?’
‘Only the usual about not hurting you. You can’t go on like this, Mary. Lissa told you the same.’ He felt Lissa squirm in the bed beside him.
‘I’ll do what I damn well want without your interference,’ Mary snapped back. ‘Are you sure you didn’t call him?’
‘Of course I’m sure. Why do you keep asking?’
‘Somebody di
d and Shane got really annoyed. He said something like, “I’ve told you already, you’ve got it all wrong.” After he hung up he told me he had to go and sort something out. He didn’t say what it was but, when he was leaving, he said to me, “That brother of yours is a pest.” Mike, I’m worried. Did you meet him again last night?’
Mike thought of the beating Bruno had given him. Was Shane supposed to be there as well, or was it Shane the two of them were going to meet?
‘No, I was being mugged by one of his mates.’ Anger welled up inside him. ‘Did Shane organise that?’
‘Are you OK? What happened?’
Already ashamed of sounding off, Mike said, ‘I’m OK. You shouldn’t worry too much about Shane.’
‘Do you think he might have been hurt? I should check the hospitals.’
‘You could do that, but see if he turns up at work first. I’ll call you later.’
As he put down the phone, Lissa exploded. ‘Don’t use me to prop up your arguments with Mary. You never learn. I shouldn’t have said a word to you about her. I know you’ve had a bang on the head, but really!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t sorry me. What’s the story with Shane?’ After Mike had told her what Mary had said, toning down her complaints about his interference, Lissa exploded again. ‘You didn’t tell me you’d been to see Shane.’
‘There wasn’t time. We were at the concert, then a quick meal with the kids and I was off again.’
‘How’s your head?’ Lissa leaned over him. ‘The cut on your eye doesn’t seem too bad, although there’s some nice colour in the bruise on your forehead.’
He sank back on to his pillow and tentatively fingered the swelling near his eyebrow with its thin scab of dried blood. ‘Yeah, not too bad. If I take my time this morning I’ll be fine.’
‘You should go to the police. You know who did this to you and you know why. You shouldn’t let him get away a second time.’
Mike started to shake his head but stopped quickly when it began to throb. ‘No. I have no proof, no witnesses, and you can bet his mate will give him an alibi.’
‘At least you should take the day off and have yourself checked by the doctor.’
‘No, I’ll be right. Just take it slowly.’
Lissa shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. I’m wide awake now so I may as well get up.’
When she had gone for her shower Mike lay back and took stock. Apart from his head, he had escaped relatively unharmed. He was stiff from his fall, there were the bruises and he had taken some skin off his knuckles when trying to save himself, but the real damage was to his pride. Now he could see that he’d allowed his lucky hit on Bruno and the way it was received by the men at the site to delude him into thinking he had what it took to be a street-fighter. The truth was he was bloody lucky to have got off so lightly last night. How did they know he would be at the Lord Nelson? Had he been followed like Alan had feared? Where was Shane in all this?
All these questions made his head hurt again, but what hurt most of all was the memory of Kordic pissing on him. The shame of it pierced him. No one must know of that. As soon as he got home he had stripped off and, despite his thumping head and other aches, insisted on immediately washing all his clothes. Lissa had been worried about him and bemused by what she saw as his strange priorities, but he ignored her and for once she didn’t pester him to explain. Shane had warned him to watch out for Kordic – not in so many words but his meaning was clear. They all had told him to go carefully – Bob Kennedy, Alan Reardon and finally Shane – but he paid no attention. Where was Shane now?
Suddenly another possibility suggested itself. He’d assumed the secretive Alan Reardon had wanted to alert him to what Alan saw as Vern’s treachery so that Mike could keep an eye on Vern for him. But what if his real aim was to lure him to the pub for Bruno to deal with him? Vern had suggested Alan might be in league with Bruno. Was he shown the photograph of Vern to drive a wedge between the two of them? And was it treachery that had taken Vern to Flinders or had he been invited there by Angelo to discuss the takeover Vern had predicted might save the firm? Despite Alan’s refusal to say, they surely were at Rossi’s place at Flinders. Mike’s head continued to throb.
He walked slowly into the bathroom. The shower made a big difference – he was almost human again. He needed to be. Today he was having lunch with Carla. He had almost forgotten her. He wiped the mist from the bathroom mirror and examined his face. It was a shame he wouldn’t be looking his best when they met. He wondered whether he could camouflage the bruise somehow but decided against it. She would have to take him as she found him.
When he walked into the kitchen, Lissa greeted him with mock astonishment. ‘My, you are dressed up – your best shirt and that tie I gave you for Christmas. Are you going for a job interview you haven’t told me about?’
‘Just a lunch I have to attend.’
He paused, but when he could see Lissa was about to ask for more detail, he added, ‘An industry lunch where I’m representing the company. It’ll be boring, but I need to look my best.’
Lissa raised an eyebrow and said, ‘That shiner won’t help your image.’
‘Have you been in another fight?’ Christos asked with an unaccustomed note of awe in his voice.
Mike turned to see his children at the breakfast table – three sets of curious eyes. ‘No, just a silly accident. I should have been more careful. That was a great concert yesterday, Jac.’
Vern McKenzie knew it was time to act. He had checked the computer for the latest statement of the credit card issued to Mike and confirmed the two debits were recorded. Taking the printout with him he hovered at Ben’s door until the MD looked up and saw him.
‘I hear some guys from the commission are coming to see you,’ Vern said.
‘Yeah. The man who rang said they were investigators but wouldn’t say what they wanted. It can’t be a follow-up to the accident last week, can it? That’s WorkSafe.’
‘I think it might have something to do with this.’ Vern walked to Ben’s desk and put the sheets in front of him.
‘What the hell are these?’
‘They show two debits on the credit card issued to Mike Georgiou. Five hundred dollars each, for which there is no supporting paperwork. Last week I suggested he needed to get closer to the new assistant secretary at the union who, rumour has it, is not above putting the hard word on an employer. It looks like Mike walked straight in – the bloody fool.’
Ben jumped up, his face livid. ‘That dunce has dropped us in it again! He must go.’
‘Whoa, Ben.’
Vern shook his head and spoke in a slow, calming voice. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t yet know why the commission guys are coming. I thought I should warn you, just in case. If my fears are justified we should be surprised when these debits show up. If we tell the commission straight off they might think we put Mike up to it and are trying to get out from under.’
Ben sat down again. ‘I’m still going to suspend him. I don’t want him here for a moment longer.’
‘At least wait until the commission men have come and gone.’
‘Yeah, OK.’
‘Who will you replace him with? It’s not as if we’ve got a reserve list of project managers waiting to take over.’
Ben sat back in his chair and looked up at him with that supercilious smile Vern so detested. ‘While we think about that, I’ll do the job myself. To tide us over. We need to tighten up at the CityView site.’
‘But what about here?’
‘You can cover for me. You did last week. You can do it for a bit longer. But, remember, keep me informed of everything that goes on and leave me to deal with Jim. I don’t want him bothered, so leave him alone and come to me for anything you need or are worried about.’
Late in the morning Mike received a call from Ben Findlay’s PA, Janine, delivering a summons to head office. She did not say why and, when he asked, was unconvincing in her claim not t
o know. As he came up the stairs he saw Freda, who gave him the kind of sympathetic smile he thought she might reserve for the condemned. Had Ben decided to follow through on his threat to replace him, even though the CityView project was again humming along? Janine was less friendly.
‘You’re to go straight in,’ she said sternly.
There were three men sitting at the glass-topped circular table Ben had installed in Jim’s office when he moved in. Each of them looked up at him as he entered, but all remained sitting, the two strangers with impassive faces, Ben ruddier and more awkward than Mike was used to seeing him.
‘Sit here,’ Ben said, indicating the vacant chair next to him. ‘These gentlemen are from the commission. They are investigating a report that you have attempted to bribe a union official. Is there anything you wish to say?’ He sounded like a judge delivering sentence.
‘What?’
‘This is a very serious charge.’
‘I’m gobsmacked. Where did this come from?’
‘I urge you to cooperate fully with the enquiry and be totally frank as to your actions and motives.’ Ben seemed already convinced of his guilt. ‘I have assured these gentlemen that such activity is totally contrary to company policy and procedures and that we, ourselves, would deal harshly with any member of staff found to have engaged in such behaviour.’
Ben turned to the two men, who had still to be introduced, and gave his attempt at an ingratiating smile. ‘Janine will show you to the room where you can interview Mr Georgiou.’
‘Thank you,’ the elder of the two men said and stood up. He had the no-nonsense bearing and slightly crumpled appearance of an ex-copper who had interviewed suspects a million times before. His colleague, more like a young lawyer or accountant who had not made it at one of the major practices, nodded as if he felt the need to show solidarity with his boss and also rose to his feet, followed by Mike and finally Ben.
‘Janine,’ Ben called. ‘Take these gentlemen to the conference room.’ He turned to usher them to the door. ‘Would you like coffee?’ he asked.