by Brian Smith
‘So you will come?’
‘No. I’ve told you that many times as well. But we’ll talk again when I’ve cleared away some of the problems I have at present.’
After he had seen his father into his house and left him rather mystified but happier than before, Mike took a much longer route to return home. The sky remained overcast and the wind biting, but he did not notice, lost in thought. He needed to convince the police he had not killed Shane and his best chance of doing that was to have Angelo Rossi tell the police what he had told Carla. That wasn’t going to happen while Rossi remained beholden to whoever it was now running Rubicon ‒ not Sarac but the crime boss who had put money into Rubicon and was now after Findlay’s. The meeting at Flinders tomorrow was a chance to see who was involved. It would be difficult to get close without being discovered but Reardon had done it. Reardon had used him. He would use Reardon.
Lissa confronted him as soon as he got home.
‘Where have you been?’
‘I went for a walk to clear my head.’
‘In this weather? You’ve been complaining about the cold all day. You haven’t been making a quick call on Carla, have you?’
Before Mike could reply Mary said, ‘Did it work? Are you any clearer on what you should do to get the police off your back?’
‘Yes it did. I’m a lot clearer.’
Mike took his phone from his pocket, made a call and waited for a short time before saying, ‘Alan, it’s Mike Georgiou.’
‘Hi Mike,’ Alan Reardon replied and paused before asking, ‘How are you?’
‘Your boss visited me this afternoon.’
‘George came to see you?’
‘No the one who’s sending you to Flinders tomorrow.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘That’s a pity. I was going to bum a lift with you. I’ll just have to go by myself. Barging in might get me a quicker result than skulking round outside. ’
‘Mike, please don’t do that.’
‘You have a choice.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘14 Martin Street, South Melbourne. What time?’
‘I want to arrive down there well before anyone else. I’ll pick you up at 8.30. You can explain what’s brought this on.’
‘And you can explain what you’ve really been up to and what you hope to achieve at Flinders.’
Mike finished the call. Lissa and Mary gazed enquiringly at him.
‘As you heard, I’m going to Flinders tomorrow. I’m going with the union guy, Alan Reardon, to Carla and Angelo Rossi’s house we saw in New Idea.’
He looked directly at Lissa.
‘Carla won’t be there, but I’m confident others including Vern McKenzie will. Don’t ask me what I’ll achieve because I don’t know. But at least I won’t be mooning around here wondering what to do.’
16
Mike was watching through the bedroom window when the late-model, white Hyundai 120 drew up outside.
‘I’m off,’ he called to Lissa.
‘You be careful. You’ve been beaten up too often lately,’ she said, her attempt at a grin twisting further when she added, ‘And give my regards to Carla if she happens to turn up.’
When Mike came through the front door Alan had reached the gate. ‘G’day,’ he said, frowning. ‘You sure you know what you’re doing?’
Mike opened the rear door of the car to toss his small backpack on to the seat. ‘I have no idea what you’re doing. That’s why I want to come with you.’ Alan shrugged and took his place behind the wheel while Mike eased himself into the passenger seat. ‘New car?’
‘It’s rented for the day. It has the advantage of being anonymous.’
‘God, you are careful.’
Alan started the car and they moved off. ‘I thought by now you’d learned how dangerous it can be if you’re not careful with this lot.’
They drove in silence through the Sunday-quiet streets until they joined the freeway, when Alan sat back and said, ‘How did you know I’d be going down today and why are you tagging along?’
‘Before I tell you anything, I want you to tell me why you hung me out to dry with the commission.’
Alan did not reply, concentrating on passing a slow-moving truck. Eventually he said, ‘I told you I’d tipped off the commission that I expected an attempt to set me up with a bribe but I didn’t know when or how. I thought the commission would have trouble tracing the source – shifting money in ways hard to trace is routine for the man I’m after. Instead, you were made the fall guy – something I wasn’t expecting. When you told me Bruno and Rick had been at the Lord Nelson I knew our meeting there’d come out and I had to avoid it looking like I’d asked you for the bribe. I certainly didn’t want to tell the commission about the photos I showed you, so I told them you asked to meet with me and wanted to know how you could improve relations with the union. The only call I made to you wasn’t from my usual phone – I have another I use for any calls I want to keep quiet – so it was easy to make it appear you’d set up our meeting. Sorry.’
‘Who is calling the shots at Rubicon?’ Mike asked. ‘I know Sarac’s just the middle-man, the fixer.’
‘Hold on. You said you’d tell me why you wanted to go to Flinders with me if I explained how I dropped you in it with the commission.’
‘OK. I’m trying to work out what’s really going on in Rubicon to help me convince the police it wasn’t me who murdered Shane Francis.’
‘You?’ Alan turned his head sharply to glance at Mike. ‘Why do the police suspect you?’
‘I told you when Shane got drunk he beat up my sister. He did it again last weekend and I had a go at him on the Monday, telling him it had to stop. When he pretended it hadn’t happened and gave me his sleazy smile, I did my block and told him if he did it again I’d kill him. Several people heard the bit about killing him. Later that night someone phoned him and he told my sister I was a pest before he went out and got himself killed. The police put this together with the fact I was in some kind of fight the same night and I’m their man.’
‘Yeah, that was the night we were at the Lord Nelson. I can give you an alibi.’
‘Thanks, but it won’t work. You didn’t see me get mugged and there was time after you left for me to call Shane, have a fight and kill him.’
‘What a bugger.’ Alan sounded genuinely sympathetic. ‘But I don’t see how coming with me today will help you.’
Mike had regained some of the trust he’d lost in Alan but not enough to tell him anything more. Not yet, anyway. ‘Maybe if you tell me what you’re up to and why.’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I reckon your pal Vern McKenzie will be going down there again today to meet with the guys from Rubicon. He’s proven himself to them by setting you up. He probably thought he’d get me as well. What I don’t know is why he wants to get in with these thugs.’
Mike pursed his lips, coming to a decision. ‘He did have ideas of having Findlay’s merge with Rubicon. He thought Angelo Rossi was running Rubicon, but he isn’t any longer, is he? Who is?’
‘How long have you known what McKenzie was up to?’
‘He sounded me out around ten days ago, but I wasn’t keen on the idea. I reckon that’s why he wants me out of the way.’
Alan turned his head to grin at Mike. ‘So, you’ve come to your senses. What convinced you McKenzie is no friend of yours?’
‘I’ve been coming to it for a while. Listening to your boss, Mancini, yesterday afternoon, I finally decided you were both right about Vern.’
‘He’s not my boss,’ Alan declared.
‘Don’t kid me. How else would he know some of the things I told you the other day? I bet he tipped you off more was going on in Rubicon than the fiddles Sarac was into at Riverside.’
‘If you’re right about McKenzie, then the man who really interests me will likely be there today, as well.’
‘Does he have a name?’
‘Jerry K
ane is a reclusive type who keeps himself well hidden but, among other things, runs one of the biggest drug syndicates in the country. From time to time the police arrest some of his people and close down one arm of his empire but they’ve never been able to get him.’
Mike guessed Kane must be the supplier of the funds Angelo Rossi used to get Mancini out of Rubicon but didn’t want to reveal all that Carla had told him.
‘What’s he got to do with Rubicon?’ he asked.
‘When I started looking into what was going on at Riverside I thought Mancini was behind it all. Despite his current, airbrushed community standing, he has a track record that would say he’d be just the type to go in for the scams and the coercion I was uncovering. But then I found he’s out of it now.’
‘He told you?’
Alan stared straight ahead down the road. ‘The word is that Rossi got fed up with his father-in-law looking over his shoulder, got rid of him and found another backer. No one seems to know who that backer is and the only company info I’ve been able to see is shrouded in the kind of financial smoke screen these guys are so good at putting up. I think it could be Kane. He needs to do a lot of money laundering and Rubicon would have seemed like a good place.’
‘How did you get on to him?’
‘Obviously what was going on at Riverside had to have a purpose and it didn’t take long for me to realise the downturn in property sales was causing cash flow problems for Rubicon. Cash flow is vital to money laundering as water is for growing crops. That’s why Sarac was moved in and the scams began.’
Mike shook his head. It must have been Mancini who put Alan on to Kane.
‘Vern thought cash flow might be a problem at Rubicon. He saw the steady cash flow from our other projects as one of the advantages to Rubicon if we merged.’
‘Well, there you are.’
Mike decided to have one last try. ‘Mancini has briefed you fully. He wouldn’t tell me any of this.’
‘Jerry Kane isn’t the only one taking a lot of trouble to keep a low profile in this business. You obviously know Mancini. How did that come about?’
Mike explained how Mancini and his father had known one another years ago, but omitted any mention of the recording Demetri had made. ‘Mancini’s daughter wants to buy Dad’s shop as part of a large development she has planned for that section of Bay Street. When he wouldn’t sell, they asked me to persuade him.’
‘So you’ve met the lovely Carla. They say she’s a real stunner.’
‘Yes, she is attractive,’ Mike said in a voice he strove to make neutral. ‘A capable business woman, I’d say from what I’ve seen of her. It’s her father I’ve heard most from, though,’ he lied. Anxious to move on from the topic of Carla, Mike grinned and said, ‘You say you’re not working for Mancini. So who are you working for?’
Alan gripped the wheel fiercely and shook his head. ‘Christ! You management types can only think in terms of bosses and underlings. I’m my own boss in this. I want to stop crims getting into the industry. Believe me, I’ve seen what they can do once they get a toe-hold. That’s why this is much bigger than Riverside.’
They drove in silence until Mike judged Alan had calmed down. ‘You obviously had a hard time in the west. Tell me about it.’
Alan shot Mike a questioning glance but, reassured his interest was genuine, began to speak of his experiences, at first hesitantly and then with greater freedom. After he had finished they were silent again and Mike reflected on what he had heard. The further Alan had gone the better Mike could understand why he was so focused on trying to root out criminals from the building industry, why he was so cautious in all that he did and why he saw himself as a loner pursuing his own crusade and working for no one. He most likely was working with, even using, Mancini but certainly not working for him. Mike wondered whether Mancini appreciated this. He still had no clear idea why Mancini was so interested in ‘unravelling this whole can of worms’, as he had put it to Mike. He no longer had any financial interest in Rubicon. It seemed unlikely he wanted to free Angelo Rossi from the control of Jerry Kane and his men although that would suit Mike very well. More likely he wanted to enable Carla to regain her influence over Riverside.
Alan interrupted his reverie by asking how he had come to work at Findlay’s. Mike was pleased to find his account of starting as a chippie apprentice and rising through the company provoked admiring comments, although Alan did say he thought Jim Findlay’s interest in developing his staff was unusual for a boss. Mike had come on this trip determined not to put his trust in Alan, but the more they talked and the better he came to know him, the less likely it seemed he needed to be so cautious. Once this business was over they might even become friends. Perhaps Vern and George Fowler had started in a similar way.
As they approached Flinders, Alan asked the question that could well have been on his mind since early in their drive. ‘You said your aim today was to help clear yourself from suspicion of killing Shane. Let’s say we somehow succeed in nailing Kane and McKenzie. How does that help you?’
‘I need Angelo Rossi not to fear what Kane or Sarac might do to him.’
‘I still don’t get it.’
‘As I’m sure you know, Angelo loathes them all. He saw me and Shane at a family dinner in Café Italia a couple of weeks ago. Angelo couldn’t resist trying to stir up trouble within Sarac’s gang by telling them he’d seen us together. Something happened to make them even more suspicious of Shane and the night he was killed Sarac rang Angelo to tell him Shane was dead. He told Angelo Shane was a traitor and they were well rid of him. Angelo feels guilty he started them down this path but won’t go to the police.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I know.’
‘Did Mancini tell you?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ Mike could see Alan turning over the possibilities. ‘No, of course he wouldn’t. Angelo wouldn’t tell Mancini. That’s it. Carla told you.’
Alan gave a large grin that displayed both self-satisfaction and irony. ‘Angelo told his wife and she told you. No wonder you looked so coy when I mentioned her earlier. You sly bastard. From what I’ve heard, half the men in Melbourne lust after her. How did you make it with her?’
‘It’s nothing like that.’
Alan continued to grin but did not pursue Mike further. They drove through Flinders and towards Cape Schanck. Some kilometres on Alan turned the car into a clearing among the trees growing beside the road and brought it to a stop.
‘I didn’t realise we were having a picnic,’ Mike said.
‘Better than that, we’re going on a hike.’
Alan took a backpack from the boot and led the way down a sandy track towards the sea. The track wound through banksias with yellow bottlebrush flowers, sheoaks and eucalypts, the bush made even denser by the vines which clung to the trunks and branches. A strong breeze tossed the tops of the trees. It was still cold but the cloud cover was not nearly as dense as it had been yesterday – an increasing number of blue patches broke up the white and grey. As they neared the coast, the breeze began to snatch at them and Mike was glad he had worn his hooded anorak. Alan did not seem to feel the cold and was comfortable in jeans and T-shirt topped by a green woollen sweater. A break in the trees at the end of the path let them look down on the surf breaking across the rocks at the base of the cliff on which they were standing.
‘Where do we go from here?’ Mike asked.
‘Now we have to bush-bash along the cliff-top.’
‘Isn’t there an easier way?’
‘You could climb down the cliff and swim around if you like. The Rossi property is wedged between two arms of the national park – that’s what makes it such a secure place for the meetings they have down here. If you don’t go in the front gate, you have to come through the bush. Only people as silly as you and I do that, so they think they’re secure and don’t worry too much about checking for interlopers. Come on.’
They pressed on thr
ough bushes barring their way and stumbled in holes left by burrowing animals and nesting birds. Their route took them around a succession of small coves nibbling into the cliff face and offered spectacular views of rocks and sea. Their trek was enhanced by a sense of isolation with the rhythmic boom of the surf, the sigh of the wind in the trees and the cries of the keening seabirds as a mournful chorale. He hoped it was not an omen. Despite his light frame, Alan coped better than Mike with the difficulties of their walk.
‘How about a break?’ he pleaded.
‘If you like,’ Alan allowed. ‘But it’s only about another ten minutes.’
Mike nodded his reluctant acceptance and they continued until confronted by a barbed-wire fence running from the cliff-top back up the hill. A sign prominently displayed on the section of fence they faced told them all they needed to know:
PRIVATE PROPERTY: KEEP OUT
‘At least it doesn’t say, “Trespassers will be shot”,’ Mike said. Alan, ever cautious, held up his hand to silence him and stood for a minute or so looking and listening.
Satisfied, he held the strands of the fence apart and nodded for Mike to squeeze through. After they reversed roles and both were on the other side, Alan said, ‘There’s about another forty metres of trees and bush before an open paddock. We need to go further up the hill so we’re closer to the house. There’s a clump of bushes up there where we can get a good view without being seen.’
He led Mike along the fence before turning left and carefully picking his way to the side of the paddock that ran back down the hill. Through the bushes Mike glimpsed a swimming pool and the tiled patio of a glass fronted building set into the hill, clearly recognisable as the house featured in New Idea. Alan took a small pair of binoculars from his pack and swept down the paddock, which sloped to a break in the cliffs – where a creek flowed on to a small, sandy beach – and then up the heavily wooded other side to the house itself. He handed the glasses to Mike, who repeated his survey. When he sighted on the house, he noticed a movement: it was Angelo Rossi, with a mug in his hand, walking to the window and gazing out to the cove beyond the beach.