by Garry Disher
By 1500 hours that Friday, Lovell was ready for takeoff. He waved at Felix, who had the joint in his mouth again, and taxied to the end of the strip. Conditions were still clear, the north-easterly moderating a little. Lovell released the brakes, pushed hard down the strip, felt the Baron lift off the ground. He felt good. Levelling off at 10 000 metres, he fixed the course hed follow until he reached the Highlands.
Some time later he crossed the coast at the north-western tip of the Cape. Seven thousand kilometres of coastline from Cairns to Port Hedland, and in Lovells particular corner of it there was fuck-all law to worry about. Queensland and Federal police on Thursday Island, and a minimal customs presence on Thursday and Horn Islands. The poor bastards spent all their time chasing Islanders, who transported the odd gram or two in banana boats and aluminium dinghies, while the big hauls flew in unmolested.
He switched to automatic pilot. This was his fourteenth trip this year. It wasnt always New Guinea Gold. Twice now hed flown in two hundred and thirty kilos of buddha sticks from Thailand worth three hundred thousand bucks a time. Hed also hauled cocaine and heroin that had originated in the Golden Triangle. It made its way overland and then by fishing boat and steamer to PNG, and he transported it the rest of the way. Finally, couriers like Danny took it to the Gold Coast, Sydney, Melbourne, and Lovell funnelled the money back to Mr Bone.
But flavour of the month right now was the PNG cannabis. Last week the radio claimed twenty-three thousand kids in Queensland alone smoked it on a daily basis, eighty thousand on a weekly basis. Users in Sydney couldnt get enough of the stuff and were prepared to fork out two hundred bucks a gram for it.
Meanwhile the demand for heroin and cocaine was undiminished, and skyrocketing for crack. The problem there was that the legal penalties were a lot stiffer. That had given Lovell his great idea. Now when he flew in PNG cannabis, compressed in bales the size of a couple of house bricks, there was cocaine or heroin inside each bale. If the Feds nabbed him, the charge would be conspiring to import cannabis, not cocaine or heroin. The cannabis bales would be incinerated and the hard stuff would go up with it.
Far beneath him a fishing trawler was working. Then again, maybe it was carting drums of compressed cannabis across the Strait to the mainland. Everyone was doing it. Lovell adjusted direction two degrees east. That would put him on course for Goroka and touchdown sometime late in the afternoon. He wondered how Nurse was going.
Eighteen
They sat in dim light at the Monte Carlo main bar and after five minutes of idle talk the mark said, Call me Danny. He tried to conceal the gold band on his pudgy finger.
Sonia, Carol said. She turned her knees toward him.
Sonia. Lovely, said the mark. It suits you. He brushed her forearm with the tips of his fingers and Carol thought Got you.
Im celebrating, Danny said. He looked at her, waiting.
Let me guess, Carol said. Youve had a run of luck tonight.
Dannys eyes flickered over her. So far.
He began snapping his fingers. The barman moved toward them from the other end of the bar.
Apart from croupiers and barmen, Danny was the only man in the gaming room dressed in a dinner suit. His bow tie was a clip-on, nudged by the folds of flesh at his neck. There were spots on his pink scalp. He was about forty-five and a prime candidate for a heart attack.
What about you, you been winning?
Carol assessed him rapidly. If she said she had lost badly he would be sympathetic and generous, but hed also expect a return on it. On the other hand, if she coolly mentioned a sizeable win he might be impressed, more gratified with his conquest. In fact Carol had not been gambling at all. She had been watching arid waiting for a winner like Danny to come along.
A thousand, she said modestly.
Danny whistled. Not bad, not bad at all.
He looked at her, his head on one side. Carol wore a simple black cocktail dress, sheer stockings, and black court shoes. She wore little make-up and carried a plain Italian leather clutch-bag. Her blonde, sun-streaked hair was straight and fine, cut to brush her shoulders.
The barman brought their drinks. Cheers, Danny said.
She knew how it went with men like Danny. The typical mark didnt like to think he was picking up a tramp. When he was winning, he thought he deserved the best. He thought he was irresistible. It flattered him, gave him status, if a young, good-looking woman was attracted to him.
Carol began to concentrate. Danny was explaining his system to her. I cant tell you the fine details, Sonia, but I can say its been pretty kind to yours truly over the years. He winked.
Prick, Carol thought. What else do you do?
Me? Danny shrugged and looked around the room. Im in banking, securities, things like that. You?
The typical mark also exaggerated his status in the world. And he liked it if you had apparent wealth and standing. Carol looked at her watch, a Piaget fake from Singapore, and said, I run my own business. Interior design.
Danny whistled again. Carol said, Can that really be the time?
Hey, youre not going? The night is young.
He leaned toward her. Lets have another flutter at the tables. For luck.
It shouldnt go quite like this. By now the mark should be suggesting a drink somewhere more comfortable. Carol frowned at her watch.
Just for half an hour, Danny said. Then well celebrate. Im staying next door, at the Tradewinds.
Carol appeared to weigh the issues and capitulate. She laughed. Ive always admired an optimist.
They crossed the smoky room to the roulette tables. Carol had seen rooms like this in strong light, the drink stains and cigarette scorches revealed on the carpets and furniture. The casino was packed with package-tour bus trippers up from Sydney, housewives down from Brisbane, the occasional hard case. At her side, Danny was bouncing oddly on his toes. Carol realised that he was attempting to add centimetres to his height. What a prick.
He placed his bets and immediately began losing. Not badly, but badly if you think youre onto something good and dont want to blow it. He had a habit of rubbing his cufflinks between his fingers after each bet.
Oh, thats a shame, Carol said from time to time. She sat shoulder to shoulder with Danny and held his forearm, which he seemed to like. People were watching them, which he also seemed to like, and she thought that expressions like sharp-looking couple were probably running through his head.
If she didnt hold him to his thirty minutes he might soon be broke. She rested her cheek against him and let their thighs touch. He left an impression of perspiration, panic and greed. He turned his face to her and she smiled and wrinkled her nose. Id love that drink now, she said, putting a low, throaty quality into it.
Danny was torn. Bit longer, he said eventually. These games always have a turning point. What if it comes after we leave?
He was a moron, but she jiggled her knee and held tight to his arm. Dont worry. Youre still way ahead.
You dont understand, Danny said. He bet another hundred.
Carol was about to answer when she sensed that she was the object of a strangers unwavering attention. She looked up. Behind the gawking five-dollar punters, pensioners and loudmouths stood a tall, grim man wearing glasses with solid black frames. The pit boss. He held her gaze, then looked beyond her and nodded to someone.
She felt her shoulders being clasped. She knew without turning around that it was a security guard. A second guard stationed himself next to Danny.
Excuse me, miss, the first guard said.
Yes?
He leaned down. He smelt of cheap food. Youve not been playing, miss. Youve not played at all since you arrived here, three hours ago. You were not seen arriving with this gentleman.
If you would just come with us to the office… the other man said.
Whats it to you guys? Danny demanded.
Do you know this lady, sir? the first guard said. The backs of his hands were hairy.
People were watching
them. One or two whispered to each other. Then the pit boss beckoned with a jerk of his head and Carol felt strong hands lift her.
Danny slapped a dozen chips down in front of her. The ladys with me. This is her stake.
Carol immediately selected four chips and pushed them forward. Im betting on red nine.
The croupier looked at the chips and then at the pit boss.
Nine. You heard the lady, Danny said. In fact, Ill go for that, too. He pushed all his chips forward.
The croupier shrugged. The other players were getting edgy. They hated delays. He checked around the table and prepared to spin the wheel. The pit boss turned away, clearly disgusted.
The guards muttered. Carol smiled at them. She knew she couldnt come back here, but there was no point in making enemies. It was just a little misunderstanding, she said. Thats all.
The guards edged away through the crowd. Incredible, said Danny loudly.
They were only doing their job. After all, I could be anybody.
Youre not though, Danny began, but the wheel was spinning and so he polished his cufflinks again.
Carol watched. A rapid clatter, getting slower; an impossible last-minute lurch; the number nine under the pointer.
Danny stood, roared Yes! thrust up a plump fist in victory. People whistled and clapped. Carol smiled at Danny. The kiss he gave her was thrusting and moist. Lets have that drink.
She raked in the chips and shyly pushed them toward him. A grin was splitting his face. I dont believe it. I couldve bet black eleven till the cows came home. He pushed some of the chips back to her. Some of these are yours. You brought me luck.
She followed him out of the Monte Carlo and next door into the Tradewinds. There was a king-size bed in room 212, under an electric blue bedspread heavy enough to smother an ox. Danny parted the curtains, calling them drapes, and ushered Carol onto the balcony, pointing out the lights. He stood there with her just long enough to deny that animal heat had anything to do with why hed brought her to his suite, then closed the curtains and showed her back into the room.
There were two plush club chairs against one wall, a large TV and VCR unit on a bench, and a small table with Dannys crocodile-skin suitcase open on it. Hed left a light on in the bathroom and there was a damp towel on the floor. A bar fridge hummed in one corner. What would you like? he said.
He had loosened his collar and was mopping his brow with a handkerchief. He laughed suddenly and tucked the handkerchief away in embarrassment. Winnings taken it out of me.
Carol stepped close to him and rested her palms on his chest. Why dont you get comfortable first? She fingered his lapels. Why dont you take a shower and let me make the drinks. Ill make us something long and cool and very alcoholic
What she did with her hand then was unambiguous and the mark gleamed like a schoolboy. She stepped back, evading him, nodded at the bathroom. But dont be long.
Im long now.
Now, now, none of that.
Theres this spot, Danny said, contorting absurdly, in the middle of my back. I can never reach it.
Well youll just have to wait, wont you?
She turned to the bar. It was well stocked. She would be able to make martinis. Behind her, Danny was whistling in the bathroom. He had left the door open. Did he seriously imagine that she wanted to watch him?
She took two glasses and tumbled ice cubes into them. She broke the seal on the gin bottle.
What are you making?
She judged that he was standing at the bathroom door. She would not turn around. A surprise.
There was the sound of Dannys hands slapping himself. The shower door rolled on its coasters. She heard the water gush.
After thirty seconds she peeked. The glass shower enclosure was steamed up and Danny was soaping his groin and singing.
Swiftly she poured measures of gin and dry vermouth into each glass, then took a tiny glass bottle from her bag. The label read eye drops. She removed the top and filled the dropper with fluid. Danny turned off the water. She had about a minute. She squirted the fluid into one of the glasses, stirred the drink by poking the floating ice cube, replaced the eye dropper, and tucked the little bottle away. Da dum, she said triumphantly, turning to him, holding the glasses aloft.
Danny had succumbed to modesty. He stood by the bed, pink with emotion and steam and too many carbohydrates, a voluminous towel around his waist. Great, he said lamely.
He didnt know what was expected of him. Come, sit here with me, Carol said. She patted the edge of the bed.
I feel at a disadvantage, said Danny, taking the glass she offered him and sitting down.
Carol dipped a finger in her drink and touched it to his lips. She brushed his hot cheek with the cool edge of her glass, then slipped the base under the towel and let it rest on his thigh. Danny sighed. He raised his own glass and drank deeply.
Youre tense, Carol said. Her voice was soft. Her fingernails scratched gently in the hairs on his leg. Ill give you a back rub. Would you like that?
Danny laughed abruptly and turned onto his stomach. Youre amazing.
Carol began working her hands along his spine toward his shoulders. There was a great deal of him, and none of it firm. He sighed again, and once or twice rolled onto one hip to sip from his glass. When she thought he might he losing interest she let him hear her peel off her stockings. He gave a little groan, drank deeply, and stretched.
In ten minutes he was drowsy. In twenty, asleep. He had been administered several millilitres of scopolamine hydrobromide, a chemical found in motion sickness pills, and would be unconscious for up to twenty hours. He would wake up feeling dopey and useless.
Carol went to work. She washed both glasses and let water run in the sink while she cleaned her fingerprints off all the surfaces shed touched. She stripped Danny of his ring and watch, and scooped up the cufflinks, lighter and gold chains hed left on the bedside table. She emptied his wallet. He had almost three thousand dollars in it. Not bad, but not great.
There was nothing of value in his suitcase. His toiletries bag was crammed with soap and shampoo sachets hed stolen from the Tradewinds. But in the wardrobe, next to a pair of carpet slippers, was a small briefcase. With a handkerchief wrapped around her fingers she pulled it out and upended it on the bed.
And found her ticket out of this dump.
Nineteen
Anna Reid had reserved a room for Wyatt in a hotel in Logan City, and the first thing he did after she dropped him off by car was check out of there and take a bus back into central Brisbane. He paid in advance for two nights at the YMCA, two nights at the Victoria Hotel on Astor Terrace, and by wire for two nights at a chain motel in Surfers Paradise. Wyatt made it standard practice to arrange more than one bolthole in any place he found himself, and he never made base close to where he intended to pull a job.
A standard precautionbut there was a concrete reason for it, this time. Until he knew for sure that Anna Reid was not working for someone or did not mean him harm, any contact with her had to be strictly on his terms.
For two days he did nothing. Then on Saturday he began to fix the geography of the place in his mind. He spent the day in a tourist coach: twenty Japanese, a handful of Swedish backpackers, a retired couple from Perth and himself. Pick-up was at 9 am and they spent the morning touring the city and nearby suburbs with stops at the Gabba cricket ground, the Fourex brewery, coffee on Mt Coottha, lunch on the South Bank. The retired couple from Perth seemed to adopt him for the day. They were fearful of foreigners. The man referred to the Nips in the party and Wyatt guessed hed been a serviceman during the war. The woman muttered under her breath about the accents, singlet tops and horny, dirty feet and white teeth of the Swedish girls. Wyatt let their words wash over him. He stared out of the window or sat at kiosk tables and let the sun warm his bones as he thought about Anna Reid and a bank vault that for one weekend only would have close to two million dollars in it.
The city itself was difficult to pin down. Ther
e was no fixed quality to it. If there were any buildings left standing from the colonial era, Wyatt didnt see them. The coach would hurtle down the snarling ribbons of freeway suspended above the rivers edge, crossing one bridge after another, giving him a clear view of rakish buildings bared like teeth, and he could feel flourishing energy in the place. Then they would be prowling the slopes and valleys of the suburbs and he would see colour-supplement mansions sharing a postcode with triple-fronted brick veneers and sun-blighted wooden hovels on stilts. The camphor laurels and jacaranda had finished flowering several weeks earlier, but there were plenty of fleshy, tropical, over-scented plants to make up for them. The light was drenching, draining all colour from the sky. They passed near Boggo Road prison more than once. It dominated one of the citys hills, colder, longer, harder and more miserable than any building Wyatt had yet seen there.
After lunch the coach ran them south-east to the casinos and boutiques of the Gold Coast. Wyatt used the drive to position Logan City in his mind. As they passed through the raw new suburbs that made up the satellite city, he took in the freeway exits, the strips of trashy, low-cost glass and concrete shops on either side, the patterns of first-home-buyers houses behind them. One thing was clearif he pulled this job he would stay well clear of these streets: they looped and curved like the edges of jigsaw pieces, not a right angle among them, a living nightmare to a driver who didnt know them well and had the law on his tail.
Wyatt slipped away from the others when they reached Broadbeach. He had a pocketful of vouchers entitling him to floor shows and chips at the Monte Carlo, but he tossed them into a bin and set out to explore on foot. If he hit the Logan City bank and got away with the money, he would hide out rather than run for it, leaving the state days, weeks later. He wanted to know if the Gold Coast would conceal him, if there might be an identity he could adopt, one that would slip easily over his existing skin and make him one of thousands and therefore invisible.