by Garry Disher
Her fingers clacked over the keys. Will this work?
It will seem plausible. Mostyn and Whitney used to work together, then Whitney cleared outStolle told me so himself. Hell think Whitney followed Mostyn up here, saw what happened, and decided to put the squeeze on him. Stolle pulled a chancy hijack that happened to pay off, but he left too many loose ends behind and now hes losing and he feels far from home. Im betting hes skating close to the edge. Hell run.
Three hours. Wyatt took Anna out onto the balcony and showed her how to use his picks on the sliding glass door. When she was proficient she said, Enough, stripping him and taking him to the bed.
At nine oclock she rang the desk. Stolle had returned to the International Room. They dressed and Wyatt opened the balcony door. A quarter moon and heavy cloud cover. He leaned on the railing and looked down the black wall. Spotlights illuminated other hotels and apartment blocks in the area but the Flamingo didnt draw that kind of attention to itself.
He turned back into the room. Anna had drawn the overalls on over a black cocktail dress and was shrugging her shoulders into the harness. He tightened the straps for her, tied the rope to the metal rings.
Got the picks?
She patted the pouchy front pocket of the overalls.
Lets do it.
She climbed over the balcony and waited while he wound the rope between the bars of the railing and fastened the other end. Then he took up the slack, braced his foot and said, Okay.
He played the rope through his gloved hands half a metre at a time. Within two minutes the rope went slack. He tugged, felt a return tug, and looked over. Anna was waving to him from Stolles balcony. A minute later she tugged again and he hauled in the rope hand over hand. The overalls and his set of picks were bundled at the end of it. She was in.
He took the stairs to the third floor. Outside Stolles door he knocked three times, then once. Anna opened the door and he slipped by her into the room. Her colour was high, her eyes alight. It was easy.
He took an envelope from his pocket. The words Mr Macarthur Stolle were typed on it. Now you deliver this.
Wyatt searched Stolles room while she was gone. Some clothing, a suitcase, little else, confirmation that the money was in the safety deposit box downstairs.
Anna knocked, their prearranged signal. Wyatt let her in. Okay?
Very posh. A young man in a white tuxedo delivered it on a silver tray. I stayed long enough to see Stolle come out and go straight to his safety deposit box.
Wyatt flicked off the light. Not long now.
Where do you want me?
Behind the door.
And when hes on the bed, I tape his wrists and ankles.
Wyatt said, Yep.
His tone sounded wrong to her. Wyatt, is that what you want me to do?
Thats what I want you to do.
She was silent. They waited. Less than a minute later, Stolles key scraped in the lock. The tumblers fell inside it, the door opened, and Stolle came in, an odour of tension and expensive cigars clinging to him. He was carrying a leather slipcase and Wyatt grabbed it, kicked the door shut, and dug the end of his. 38 under Stolles jaw. The force of it bent Stolles head up and he choked.
Wyatt stepped back from him, easing the pressure. Without taking his eyes from Stolle, he held the slipcase behind his back, felt Anna take it from him.
Sit, he said, propelling Stolle back toward an armchair. He punched the man hard, doubling him over into the chair.
Wyatt, Anna said, a warning note.
Wyatt ignored her. The killing was quick. While Stolle fought for breath he was virtually helpless. Wyatt fitted his gun into Stolles right hand, angled it between Stolles teeth and pulled the trigger. Stolle jumped once and his legs trembled for some time as he died.
Forty-three
Anna pulled on Wyatts arm. You didnt have to do that.
Yes I did.
Wyatt stood looking at Stolle, seeing him with a cops eyes. Wyatt had got powder residue on his own hand but there would be enough on Stolles. The angle indicated suicide. He turned, took the slipcase from Anna. The money still had the TrustBanks paper bands around it. He took out a bundle of fifties, removed most of the notes from it, dropped the rest in their paper wrapper on the floor by Stolles feet. There were question marks but a suicide explained away most of them. Stolle had lost almost all of the stolen money at the gaming tables. Then hed lost heart and shot himself.
Wyatt turned to Anna. We cant stay here. Lets go.
She was holding herself for comfort, staring at the body. You meant to do that all along.
Hes a killer, Wyatt said.
What does that make you?
He took her arm. Come on.
They went back to their room. She wouldnt let go of the shock. You didnt have to kill him.
Wyatt cupped her small head in his hands. He found me when nobody else could. He would have found me again. You too.
She dropped her eyes. He felt her warm cheeks move in his palms as she nodded acceptance. He released her. Lets see what weve got.
They sat on the bed a metre apart and Anna tipped the money into the gap between them. He watched her count it, the tendons working in her slender fingers and knew a sense of loss.
She said, avoiding his face, How much did you say you got away with?
One strongbox, about a quarter of a million.
Theres less than half of it left. A hundred and five thousand.
They looked at the money, not each other. After a while Wyatt heard Anna say:
They want you but they dont know who you are and they dont have prints to tie you to any of this. Methey have my picture, my prints, theyre in a frenzy out there because I walked out of their precious prison.
Yes.
There's nowhere I can go, is there, Wyatt? Not here, at least. Id always be looking over my shoulder. Id be a liability to you.
Her hand closest to his was restlessly sifting and sorting among the banknotes. He closed his big fingers around it and at once it went slack and boneless.
You got me out of prison but Ill never know exactly why. Do you know exactly why?
He couldnt go on holding that dead hand. He let it go and for a while she left it on the coverlet between them.
Ive always led a chancy life. Never the straight and narrow. Id always thought I had your kind of nerve and calculation. She shook her head. I dont.
Then she was looking at him, a sad face. I'll learn it now, on the run. The thing is, you never learnt it, its what you are, so Id never be like you.
Wyatt tried one last useless thing. Well build you a new identity, the person youd like to be, with interests youd like to have. Ill disappear two or three times a year for a week, a month, and come home again and you need never know the details.
She laughed; she gripped his hand. Wyatt, the little wife? No. She went sombre again. No. Always looking over my shoulder. I cant stay here.
He knew she meant more than that she should get out of the hotel. Where?
Europe. There are people who can get me that far.
Then she was pumping his arm for emphasis. Wyatt, let me have the money. I'll need all of it.
He looked away and shortly after that he said, Leave me five.
Five thousand dollars in the world.
A couple of days later, when she was gone, somewhere in the Coral Sea aboard an islands steamer, he took the five thousand dollars into Jupiters, a delay of his run south. Wyatt didnt believe in good or bad luck but he thought that surely things had to get better from this point.
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