by Peter Corris
Sweat had broken out all over my body and I was shivering. Chang's face blew up like a balloon and when he stood he looked to be three metres tall. I heard him call for a nurse and then there was a bustle of bodies and voices and I could make no sense of it at all.
When I came out of the warm mist Megan and Hank were there, looking relieved. They told me that I'd had a bad reaction to one of the drugs I'd been given and had gone into a coma for a day or so.
'Dangerous places, hospitals,' I said. 'Remind me to stay out of them in future.'
'What the hell were you doing to take a beating like that?' Megan said. She was beginning to show signs of the pregnancy and I couldn't help smiling at the sight.
'Don't smile,' she said. 'You're supposed to be retired.'
I filled them in as best I could, skipping bits here and there, admitting that I was close to broke and facing a worrying debt.
Megan said, 'I hope you've kept your medical insurance up.'
I nodded. 'I trust you're well covered. How's it coming along?'
She couldn't help smiling herself now. 'Perfectly.'
'Are you going to need any help, Cliff?' Hank said.
Megan glared at him. 'You're not going on with it after this, are you?'
'I have to, love, but not for a while. I've got the police onside for a change, and if I need help, Hank, I'll ask.'
She wasn't happy, but, stubborn as she was, she knew I was the same. They undertook to collect the mail at my house, to visit and to help me get home. I slept a bit, ate and drank a bit, managed to shuffle along to the toilet taking my drip stand with me, and felt improvement hour by hour.
The drip had gone and my mind was clear and my body less aching when Chang appeared again. He was accompanied by a small dark man, immaculately dressed, who he introduced as Detective Sergeant Karim Ali.
'You had me worried,' Chang said.
'I'm OK, a minor glitch. I know what you're going to say-nothing to be done about Houli. No evidence.'
'That's right.'
'Who's this Talat character?'
Ali shrugged. I could tell at once that he didn't like me- some cops do, most don't. 'Muscle, ex-militia.'
'He's good at what he does. I'm wondering if he was involved in Nordlung's death. Nordlung looked to be a pretty big guy. Yachtsmen are strong. Someone must have subdued him efficiently and quietly before putting him into the water.'
Ali said, 'It's possible. He's got all the skills-frogman, paratrooper, explosives expert.'
'Shit,' I said, 'how'd he get in?'
Ali was hard to read; he smiled, almost as if what he had to say pleased him. 'Identity fraud picked up way too late. We could do something if we got hold of him, but he keeps a very low profile.'
'Houli said he was under pressure and I believed him. I'm wondering who's the greater threat in all this-the Wongs or Houli and his mate?'
'Interchangeable,' Chang said.
Ali shook his head. 'I've lost count of the number of people Houli has terrified.'
'About what?' I said.
'Money, what else? Not having it, losing it, owing it. The immigrant's greatest vulnerability.'
'Hardy,' Chang said, 'we're not going to get anywhere unless you tell us who contacted you in the first place. That's where this particular skein starts-we've got a mysterious disappearance that may mask a murder, a definite murder, that's Nordlung, and a serious assault on you. Who was it?'
I thought hard about it while they waited. I had no contract with Standish and no real obligation. No money had changed hands and, after what his wife had said, there was reason to think he didn't have the money to pay me anyway. I had no professional reputation to safeguard, but somehow all that didn't count for much. The habit of protecting the person who'd assigned a job to me was ingrained. As well, I remembered the way Standish had looked in the restaurant. Evidently Chang still hadn't checked with Caulfield.
I shook my head. 'I'm sorry, Stephen. I can't tell you. Not yet anyway. Give me some time to check on a few things. Maybe then.'
Chang looked at Ali. 'Told you.'
'Tell you one thing, I think the place they took me was underneath the Tiberias Club. I recognised the music.'
'Big deal,' Ali said. 'How about holding him on the drugs charges until he cooperates?'
Chang said, 'No, I blew any chance of that when I arranged for him to be brought here. We'll just have to wait until he fucks up again and hope that tells us something useful.'
'They tell me I could've died if I'd been dumped in a lockup overnight. Thanks.'
But they were already on their way out. Chang turned at the door. 'I'm beginning to wish I'd left you there.'
11
I was in hospital for over a week. I didn't have a ruptured spleen, and the doctor told me my broken eardrum wasn't infected and would repair itself in time. He confirmed what I'd said; I appeared to be a good healer. I'm the least metaphysical person I know, but I tend to believe that recovering from injury or illness is partly a state of mind thing. I wanted badly to heal.
Frank Parker and my lawyer Viv Garner visited-still no grapes. I walked the corridors. Megan brought in books, pyjamas and my medications. I abandoned the Miles Franklin winner and read a biography of Bernard Spilsbury, the famous English pathologist, and re-read George Shipway's Knight in Anarchy, one of the best historical novels ever.
Early in the morning, Megan brought in some clothes, my wallet and cheque book, and I got out of the hospital with a credit bank balance, just. Doctor Rasamussen, still looking weary, told me to take it easy and to watch my blood pressure.
'Don't get excited,' he said.
'What if I get a hole in one?'
'That'd be an exception.'
'It sure would.' I didn't tell him that I didn't play golf.
We went to the car park and I found that Megan had driven my 1988 Falcon. She settled herself behind the steering wheel.
'I've been driving it around a bit to keep it running. I love this car. Are you going to leave it to me in your will?'
'No, I'll leave it to the kid.'
She patted her belly. 'Fair enough. I won't say a word about what you do next, but don't even think about putting Hank in any danger. I'm not interested in being a single mother.'
I settled in at home, threw out some old food and made a list of new stuff to buy. I went to the gym for a very light session and Wesley swore when he saw my injuries.
'You're getting too old for this shit, man.'
I stepped on the scales. 'You're right. Hey, I've lost some weight.'
'Could be in your brain.'
I'd asked Megan to bring in my mobile but she'd said she couldn't find it even though she'd rung it and listened for the signal. Not surprising; I often couldn't find it myself. I hate the thing. But I hunted around and eventually found it under a couple of CDs that had slid over it on the desk where I'd left it turned off after downloading the photographs of Houli. I thumbed it on and the blinking symbol told me there were unanswered calls.
'Hardy! This is Miles Standish. Please call me.'
'Hardy. Standish. Where the hell are you?'
There were two others like that, getting more agitated. I punched in his number.
'Yes?'
'Standish, this is Hardy, what-?'
'Jesus Christ! I've been ringing-'
I cut him off. 'I've been in hospital after being bloody nearly killed by that Lebanese bastard you know so well. Don't come on strong with me, mate. You went into smoke. Are you still holed up in McMahons Point with your girlfriend?'
'How the hell did you know that?'
'Never mind. You drop out of sight and now it's all about where I am. What's the trouble?'
'My life's in danger.'
'Our lives are in danger all the time.'
'This is no joke. I need your help.'
The original 'me' guy-absolutely no interest in others. 'I'm not sure I can help you or if I want to. You didn't exactly tell me much of
the truth at our first meeting.'
'I suppose not, but I thought we had an arrangement.'
'Yeah, perhaps we do. But I'll want to know all about your dealings with Nordlung-you and May Ling and Freddy Wong and Selim Houli-before you tell me your problem. By the way, your wife thinks you killed Richard Malouf.'
'She's crazy. But Jesus, how do you know-?'
'I was doing my job. I'll meet you at your office.'
'No!'
'Where, then?'
He named an apartment block at Darling Harbour. I knew it as a place publishers and movie people used to accommodate their big-name visitors to Sydney. I'd done some bodyguarding for a couple of these types. Standish gave me the number of his apartment. He was calmer but still edgy. I didn't want him calm.
'Will May Ling be there?'
'I… I don't know.'
'Have you got any money?'
'I can get some. How much?'
'As much as you can rustle up. I'll be there in an hour.'
I wanted Standish to be as rattled and vulnerable as possible if I was to find out what was going on. Frightened was good, too, and he was clearly that already. And I thought it wouldn't do any harm to have money in my pocket because I had a need for some right then.
Along with my PEA licence went my right to carry a gun. I'd had an illicit one for a while until, after a nasty confrontation two years earlier, I'd thrown it into Balmoral Bay. But I didn't fancy going off to visit Standish, who had dealings with the Wongs and Houli, unarmed, so for the second time I broke a serious law and bought a. 22 Ruger Bearcat pistol from an ex-biker named Ben Corbett.
Corbett, a paraplegic following an accident, lived in a below-ground flat in Erskineville. He didn't want to let me have the gun without payment up front, but I persuaded him with a bottle of Bundy and a packet of Drum.
'I'm only renting it, Ben,' I said. 'You'll get it back with five hundred-'
'Six hundred.'
'OK, six. In a couple of days-unfired, I hope.'
'You're a wanker, Hardy. What happened to your fuckin' ear?'
I still had a dressing on the ear that Yusef had battered and torn. 'A dog bit it.'
Corbett snuffed out his rollie and took a big slurp of his rum and Coke. 'You're a wanker, Hardy.'
He never had much of a way with words.
The Meridian Apartments were reached via a bridge across the lower reaches of the city streets to Darling Harbour.
With money coming in, I got as close as I could by taxi because parking was impossible. I walked across the bridge in the cool blustery wind wearing an old bomber jacket with the. 22 deep in the torn lining of one of the interior pockets. I still had aches and pains, but who hasn't in their mature years? Rain threatened and the water was a dingy grey. I had no real reason to feel encouraged, but I was keen to meet Standish. I had a lot of questions, and forcing my way to answers was what I did best.
Standish opened the door to my knock and I was shocked at his appearance. Gone were the boyish bounce and the confident manner. His tan had a yellow tinge and his shoulders drooped, reducing his height. He was in shirtsleeves and the shirt wasn't fresh. His pants were wrinkled and his shoes were scuffed. No tie. Some don't look right with a tie and some look wrong without one-Standish was one of these. I'd been prepared to bully him but there was no need.
In size and decor, the apartment was more suited to a writer than an actor or rock star, and Standish had made it look more middle range than it really was by his sloppiness. Clothes, newspapers and magazines were scattered around the living room and there were glasses, coffee cups and takeaway food containers he hadn't bothered to bin or put away in the kitchenette.
I didn't have to ask whether May Ling was there-she wouldn't have been able to tolerate a pigsty like this for a minute. Standish slumped into a chair and waved me to another. I walked to the window and looked out over the water.
With my back to him I said, 'Who do you think wants to kill you?'
'Freddy Wong and Selim Houli.'
'Unless?'
'Why d'you say that?'
'Either of them could do it with no trouble at all, so there must be an unless or an if not about it.'
'You're right. Unless I can find Richard Malouf for them.'
Square one, I thought. 'Why do they want him?'
'I don't know.'
'You must have some idea.'
'I don't. I thought that they might be other victims of his swindle but they said not. May Ling is Freddy Wong's cousin. When she heard that I'd hired you to find Malouf she told Freddy. She tells him everything-he's got some kind of hold over her. I just wanted you to follow up on Stefan's story about seeing Malouf but then the shit hit the fan. Stefan got killed. May Ling said we were both in danger. I had to meet with Freddy Wong or she'd… something horrible'd happen to her. Then Houli turned up and the threats came thick and fast. It was only May who stopped them from… What happened to you?'
It was as if he'd just remembered I'd told him I'd been injured. I gave him some of the details and he looked more frightened than ever.
His voice, previously a powerful instrument of charm and persuasion, shook. 'I had to pretend I had other ways to find Malouf but I don't. I don't!'
'Take it easy,' I said. 'Got anything to drink here?'
'Scotch, in the kitchen.'
I found a couple of clean glasses and a bottle of Dewar's. Ice cubes in the fridge. I prepared two solid drinks and brought them back to where Standish was sitting with his head bowed low. His wife had said how much he loved to win and hated to lose and he was acting the part now for all he was worth.
'Have a drink,' I said. 'Find Malouf and we're home free.'
He gulped at the drink and almost choked. 'How can you say that? What if he's dead?'
'Do you think he's dead?'
'I hope so. If you… we… can prove that then those vicious bastards should leave me alone.'
It was interesting to watch him coming out of his state of fear. As soon as he saw a possibility of personal safety his spirits rose. May Ling, I noticed, had dropped out of the equation; I had never been in it.
It was warm in the room and I slipped out of my jacket and reached to hang it over the back of the chair. It fell with a thud. Standish had finished his drink and was on the way to the kitchen for a refill. He picked up the jacket and the pistol dropped into his hand. He stared at it, looking more frightened than ever.
'You think you need this?'
I took it and put it back in the jacket. 'It's just for show. What you need to do is pull yourself together. Go back to work and your own place. If Wong or Houli gets in touch, play for time.'
'I thought you might… what will you be doing?'
'What you hired me for originally-trying to find Malouf. You said you'd get some money.'
He gave me a thousand dollars in hundreds. Strange to say it seemed to make him happier.
12
I scouted the area, no sign of anyone watching the apartments. There's a rule in investigation that holds true about half the time-like most rules: test the weakest link. As things stood that was Rosemary Malouf. She'd gone to water after a question or two and had summoned support. The more I thought about it the more it seemed as if this was the place to probe.
Houli was one of those who'd given weight to the theory that Richard Malouf had serious problems by claiming he'd won a lot of money from him. Rosemary Malouf had identified the body. What was the connection between those facts? It was hard to see them as collaborators. From what I'd experienced at Houli's hands it was more likely he'd intimidated her, was controlling her in some way.
A ride in a near-empty bus is good for contemplation and speculation. Suppose Malouf was alive and his apparent death had been contrived somehow. By whom? Houli or Wong, or both? Why, and how it went wrong, allowing that this supposition was correct, were the questions.
I looked through my notes and clippings again and rang Prospero Sabatini.
&nbs
p; 'Hardy, about time I heard from you. What's been going on?'
'Quite a few things, which I could tell you off the record. Nothing at all on the record.'
'Bloody hell. All right. At least you got in touch. Fill me in.'
I told him as much as I thought I should, still not mentioning Standish, but bringing Freddy Wong and Selim Houli into the picture as well as Chang and Ali.
'You might talk to Chang without telling him who put you on to him,' I said. 'You might get something interesting.'
'Might, might, might. Might doesn't write stories. You say you're still thinking Malouf could be alive. That's the crux. Anything solid there?'
'Not really, and that's where I need your help.'
'You haven't built up much credit.'
'Yes or no?'
'Go ahead, ask.'
I reminded him that in one of his articles he'd mentioned that Malouf's wife had left their home in Gladesville.
'That's right, she couldn't handle the media pressure. The time I talked to her I told her it wouldn't last much longer but she didn't listen.'
'Do you know where she went? That's what I'm asking.'
There was a silence at the end of the line and I could imagine what he was thinking. What's he up to and what's in it for me? When it came, his response surprised me.
'She's very vulnerable, Hardy.'
I almost said I knew, but remembered that I'd edited my meeting with her out of my story. 'She's had time to get over it,' I said, 'and I can be gentle when necessary.'
'I bet.'
'Look, she's either on the edge or in the middle of something very nasty. Maybe she knows nothing about it at all. If that's right I'll talk to her and say goodbye. If she's in danger I'll bring the cops in. That's a promise.'
'I can't help you.' He hung up.
I was losing my touch and running out of allies. I'd put the phone too close to my damaged ear and it was hurting. Sitting too long in one position stiffened me, and all the places where Yusef had hit me ached. I was angry. Time to play dirty. I called the Bondi Junction travel agency. Troy answered.
'Mrs Malouf, please.'
'Can I say who's calling?'