The Undertow ch-30

by Peter Corris

  Conference time. When I got back to the city I phoned Hank and brought him up to date on the essentials. He said the earliest he could make a meeting was five o'clock. Frank wasn't at home. I phoned Lily and got her to pull some strings. A couple of hours later the fax, not used that much these days, sparked up and copies of news clippings from the Sydney Morning Herald, the National Times and the Sun began to come through. The cuttings covered the trial, conviction and escape of Matthew Henry Sawtell.

  He was born in Balmain, had just enough education to make it into the Police Academy, and was considered an outstanding recruit. Tall, strongly built and athletic, he impressed all the right people, did well in uniform with a couple of citations for bravery, and rose quickly as a detective. After his fall investigative journalists working on the story discovered family connections to the Painters and Dockers and signs that Sawtell had never seen the police force as anything other than a means of personal enrichment. He wore the livid scar on his face as a badge of honour. There were several photographs of him, mostly wearing a hat. Grainy and blotchy though the faxes were, his strong, almost handsome features were apparent. In one photo taken when he was a young man, before he got the scar, Herb Elliot's arm was around his shoulders. Catherine Heysen's kind of guy.

  I got through to Frank in the mid-afternoon, told him most of what was going on, and he agreed to the five o'clock meeting in my office. I sat and waited for them with my mobile on the desk. I dislike the things, the fiddly little buttons, the dopey ring-tones, the expectation they've set up that unless you have one you're not a serious player at anything from shopping to international diplomacy. No choice now-it was the only connection to Mad Matt 'Scarface' Sawtell. He didn't need to have anyone keeping tabs on me now. From his point of view he had me where he wanted me. The trick would be to turn that around.

  Hank got there first. He settled in a chair and surprised me by lighting a cigarette.

  'Stress,' he said.

  I nodded. I got an ashtray from the desk drawer, produced my emergency ration scotch and poured him a drink in a paper cup. He took it and nursed it gratefully. The chair I'd set out for Frank was one I'd found in an empty office in the building-I don't do much conferencing.

  Frank arrived looking anxious. He accepted a drink before glancing around the office. It was his first time there.

  'Shit, Cliff, can't you afford something better than this?'

  'Low overhead. Money spent on essentials.'

  'Yeah, like a good car.'

  'What's got up your nose?'

  'Sorry. Personal stuff. Let's get on with it. I admit I'm pissed off about you going after William without telling me. What did you plan to say to him?'

  I shrugged. 'I was going to play it by ear. Find out if he was hooked up with Sawtell and try to talk him out of it.'

  Hank said, 'That doesn't matter now. What d'we do when he makes contact and expects you to set up a meeting with Mrs Heysen?'

  Frank shook his head. 'Can't let that happen.'

  'What do you suggest?' I said. 'Give it to the police?'

  I could almost see Frank's brain cells working. Playing by the book, he shouldn't have any involvement in this given his relationship to one of the pawns in the game, or two of them-three if you counted Sawtell. Too close to too much. But the police record in hostage bargaining situations is 50/50 at best and there were other considerations.

  Sawtell was an experienced shooter facing a never-to-be-released label if caught. With nothing to lose he'd kill if pushed into a corner and take as many with him as he felt like.

  'No,' Frank said. 'He expressed his hatred for the police at his trial and I don't imagine he's changed.'

  'Cassidy and Wain are out of the picture,' I said, 'but some of the people who helped him escape could still be around and wouldn't want him talking. Remember our feelings along those lines when I got pulled by those two Ds? It only takes a spark to set off a hostage situation.'

  'What?' Hank said.

  I opened my hands. 'Sorry, mate. Wheels within wheels. There're probably cops and others who don't want him around.'

  Hank didn't take offence, one of his strengths. 'Okay, we know he's got some helpers,' Hank said. 'What I can't understand is why he wants to see Mrs Heysen. Why he's back here at all.'

  'They were lovers,' I said.

  Hank took his cigarette pack out, glanced at Frank and put it away. 'So? Ancient history.'

  'It doesn't feel that ancient,' Frank said.

  I'd hardly touched my drink. Now I took a sip. 'At least we can be sure Heysen did the operation on Sawtell and botched it. Sawtell got away but he was a good-looking guy whose face was ruined. He took revenge on Heysen. But Hank's question remains.'

  We sat there with no answers. Then my mobile rang.

  24

  Don't answer it,' Frank said.

  Hank stared at him.

  'String him along for a bit. Don't give him the high ground.'

  The phone rang for a while, then stopped. Hank nodded. 'Guess you've been in this kind of situation before. First time for me.'

  'Not exactly,' Frank said, 'but there are certain principles, right, Cliff?'

  'That's right,' I said. 'The trouble is they change with the circumstances.'

  Hank shook his head. 'That means they're not principles. Let's say a principle is we don't let Sawtell meet with Mrs Heysen. Will that hold for all circumstances?'

  'Yes,' Frank said.

  'Then how does anything happen?'

  Frank looked at me. 'Remember the Patterson siege?'

  I did. Wilbur Patterson was a serial killer who'd holed up in his mother's house with his father as a hostage. He wanted to meet with his girlfriend and the police had no doubt he'd kill her and his father.

  'It was before your time here, Hank.' I gave him the essentials.

  'So what went down?'

  'We used a stand-in for the girlfriend,' Frank said.

  'How'd it come out?'

  'Pretty good-the father wounded, the stand-in unharmed, Patterson dead.'

  'A win.'

  Frank took a sip of his drink. 'We were lucky. Patterson had poor eyesight and he panicked.'

  'Doesn't sound like this Sawtell's the panicky type.'

  'No,' I said. 'But he must be under pressure of some kind or he wouldn't be into this. What worries me is a feeling I have that he doesn't care whether he comes out of it alive or not. That's about as bad as it gets in these things.'

  The phone rang again. Frank looked at his watch and shook his head. 'Next time.'

  'What if he changes his mind?' Hank said. 'Cuts his losses. We don't know where he is. He's home free.'

  'That's not Sawtell,' Frank said. 'He does what he says he'll do.'

  'How'd he get caught then?'

  I'd read the cuttings and could answer that. 'He trusted two people he shouldn't have.'

  'So he's a poor judge of character?'

  I nudged the mobile with a pen, just to be doing something. 'Aren't we all.'

  The phone rang again and I picked it up.

  'Hardy.'

  'You're in your office in Newtown. You have two men with you. One's vaguely familiar but I can't place him. I don't know the other one.'

  'They'd love to meet you,' I said.

  'I bet. I wonder if they'd like to meet the shottie.'

  'They'd cope.' I scribbled a note to Hank. He read it and was on his way instantly. 'How're you coping, Sawtell? I spoke to a woman who saw you at William's travel place. She wasn't attracted.'

  He laughed. 'You'd be surprised how many are. Like I said, I want to see Catherine.'

  Frank was at my elbow and I scribbled the gist of what Sawtell was saying.

  'Well, I suppose that might be possible. She'd need to know that William was safe.'

  'Fair enough. I'd let her talk to him and instruct my little helper to let him go when I was satisfied.'

  'What would satisfy you?'

  'Wait and see.'

&nb
sp; 'We'd need a bit more than that.'

  'So would I, like a clear passage out. Who's that with you? I can tell you're communicating.'

  I wrote: 'Wants a getaway route. Who're you?'

  Frank took the phone. 'This is Frank Parker, Sawtell. Remember me?'

  I didn't hear Sawtell's response but he must have asked what rank Frank had achieved because Frank said, 'Deputy commissioner.'

  Frank took over the scribbling role and wrote: 'Two birds, one stone'.

  He said, 'What does that mean?'

  'No police-William dead', he wrote.

  'I hear you,' Frank said. 'Like to tell me why you're doing this?'

  Frank sat with the phone in his hand, evidently with nothing coming through it. 'Sawtell?'

  Then Frank waved the phone in the air, indicating that the call was finished. The last words he'd written were 'three hours'.

  'What?' I said.

  'Three hours to set it up. He'll call again with the arrangement.'

  'It's hard to follow a two-way conversation from notes. Did you.. pick up anything useful? Apart from what the bastard wants?'

  Frank was silent and I had to prompt him. 'Frank?'

  'I'm thinking. What did you pick up?'

  I asked him about the two birds with one stone remark. He nodded. 'Means he knows Catherine dumped him for me.'

  'The idea is to kill two birds with one stone, isn't it?' 'Right.'

  'The only other bit I got was a funny thing he said. He referred to his little helper. How about you?'

  'Nothing. A bit of hesitation when I asked him why he was doing it. He called me Mr Clean.'

  Frank went back to his chair and drained his paper cup. All of a sudden he looked old and strained again, the way he had when this whole thing started. He pushed the cup towards me. 'Any more of that rotgut on hand?'

  I poured him another slug and some for myself. It wasn't the answer to the fix we were in, but sometimes when you run out of ideas it seems like the only thing to do. It didn't look good for William and I thought about that as I sipped the drink. I hadn't liked him and could spare him, but then, I didn't like his mother either. Shouldn't matter, she was my client-or was she still? Very different for Frank-an old lover and a new son. No wonder he was feeling the strain.

  I was about to say something just to break the silence when the desk phone rang.

  'Cliff,' Hank Bachelor said. 'I got him. Would you believe he's driving that Commodore clunker?'

  I mouthed Hank's name to Frank. 'That was careless.'

  'Yeah. You'll never guess where he's gone.'

  'Hank, Sawtell's given us three hours. No time for guessing games. Tell us.'

  'Didn't you say Mrs Heysen lived in Earlwood? That's where we are. Big place near the river. Got a for sale sign out.'

  I relayed this to Frank.

  'That's crazy,' Frank said.

  'What do you want me to do, Cliff?' Hank said.

  'Has he gone into the house?'

  'No, he's sitting in the car outside. Using his cell phone a bit.'

  'Stay there. I'll get back to you. Did you see the driver?'

  'Yeah, he stopped for smokes. Little guy.'

  I hung up. 'Hank says he was small.'

  'The little helper. This is weird. I can't imagine what he's playing at. It's crazy.'

  'You said that already. Did he sound… unhinged to you?'

  'No, but like I told you, he wouldn't, no matter what was going through his head.'

  'One thing's clear-he's obsessed with the Heysens. Is there any way he'd know where Catherine is? Did her people live in Lane Cove back when Sawtell knew her?'

  'No, Rockdale.'

  'They stepped up. Let's assume he doesn't know where she is and can't check that she's not going anywhere. He only referred to one helper this time.'

  'Well, he killed the other one.'

  'Right. So he's at Earlwood with William and with one person in support. We outnumber them.'

  'You're saying we go over there and do a Clint Eastwood?'

  'It's a corner block. Easy access. Bachelor's got a stun gun and capsicum spray.'

  Frank shook his head. 'I don't know.'

  The only other option's to call in the police. My guess is Sawtell'd leave nobody standing. I think he is crazy, Frank. Mightn't show it, but what all this adds up to is last stand stuff.'

  'You said… wrote, that he wanted a way out.'

  'He's smart enough to fake that, isn't he?'

  'Yes. Okay, we'll play it your way, but if it gets too sticky we go official. Where's your spare pistol?'

  On the way I phoned Hank and told him to secure the man outside and call me back when he had. He did that within ten minutes.

  'Name's Cassidy,' Hank said. 'Not much fight in him. I don't reckon his heart was in the job.'

  I told this to Frank who was checking the. 45 automatic I keep as backup. 'Cassidy had a son. Looks as if Sawtell had some leverage there.'

  'Taking him out doesn't help us that much,' I said. 'We still have to get the jump on Sawtell. We need to talk to him. Tell him he's not going to see Catherine. Talk him out of harming William.'

  'Tall order.'

  'Are you willing to let him go?'

  Frank said, 'I'm not sure. Let's see how it shapes up. Got any ideas about getting close?'

  'One.'

  I turned into the street and saw Hank's 4WD parked on the other side of the road and a little back from the red Commodore. I pulled in even further back and waved to Hank to join us. He trotted up looking pleased with himself.

  'Where's Cassidy?' I said.

  'He's in the trunk of his car. Says he has to check in with the guy in the house every forty-five minutes.' Hank looked at his watch. 'You've got about thirty.'

  'What about weapons?'

  'He didn't have anything. Guy in the house has a sawed-off and a handgun.'

  'Okay,' I said. 'I've met the man in the house two up from the Heysen house. If he's there I think he'll let us go through his place. Then we can go over the fences and get in at the side. It's a corner block, as you see. I'm betting that if Sawtell's watching anywhere it'll be the other side and the back.'

  Frank was wearing a suit. He stripped off the jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He put the. 45 I'd given him in his pocket. Hank and I were in jeans, boots and T-shirts. I had a leather jacket and Hank a down-padded vest. He had his tazer on his belt and the capsicum spray in an inside pocket of the vest.

  We went through the gate and up to the front of Professor Lowenstein's house. I hesitated for a second. He was an old man. How would he feel about this invasion? There was no time to spare. I rang the bell.

  He came to the door and recognised me. 'Mr Hardy.'

  I explained why we were there and he said he'd noticed some activity at the Heysen house but assumed it was to do with the impending sale.

  'We want to go through your back yard and the next one and see if we can resolve this with the element of surprise on our side.'

  'Shouldn't the police-?'

  'There isn't time, Professor,' I said.

  Lowenstein wasn't a man to dither but he had his scruples. 'If it's a matter of time I'll allow you to do what you want but I'll call the police now. They'll take a while to get here. That's the best I can do.'

  'Fair enough. What about your neighbour?'

  'You're in luck there. An elderly couple, staying with their children for a time.'

  We trooped through the house out to the back yard, which was showing signs of some neglect-overgrown flowerbeds and weeds breaking through the gravel paths. The fence to the next house was in poor repair and Hank had no trouble pulling a couple of palings free. We went through the yard and I didn't register a thing about it because I was concentrating on the next fence and what I could see of the Heysen house. It was a Colorbond job, newish and high. The shrubs in the Heysen property grew close to the fence along its length.

  We moved up to the building line and Hank boosted first me
and then Frank over the fence. Years younger than us, bigger and fitter, Hank easily hauled himself over it. We were crouched in a cluster of shrubs, three metres from the building line, ten from the door to the sunroom at the back. I gestured to Hank to move up beside the house. There were windows to the rooms along that side; the ground sloped but he was tall enough to be able to look in.

  He came back crouching, and whispered, 'Kid's in the kitchen. Tied to a chair. Gagged with tape. No sign of the guy.'

  A lot of our thirty minutes had elapsed. Sawtell would be expecting a call from his helper soon.

  'Wish I had a flak jacket,' Hank said.

  Frank said, 'Shut up!' He took the. 45 from his pocket and dashed to the back door. He jerked at it, couldn't get it open, and kicked it three times so that the glass shattered. He reached in and released the lock.

  'Sawtell!' Frank almost screamed.

  I was close behind, swearing, sweating, and trying to get a good grip on my. 38. I could hear Hank close behind me releasing the velcro on his hardware.

  I lurched through the sunroom and stopped short, almost knocking Frank over. We were in the kitchen now and could see a thin, bald man sitting on the table, half turned towards us. His face was blotched and badly scarred and he held a pistol inches from William Heysen's right ear.

  25

  Hello, Parker.' ^i'Sawtell.'

  'I know Hardy. Who's the incredible hulk?'

  'He's the one who put your little helper out of action,' I said.

  'Not surprising. His father was pretty gutless if you remember, Parker.'

  Frank went straight into hostage-with-armed-aggressor mode. Talk to them was the rule.