She had been out fishing in the tender and had landed three mullet and cleaned them herself. When I arrived she barbecued them on the deck, and we ate them with a homemade sauce and a salad. We chatted and laughed and I left about midnight. At the head of the walkway I looked back through the masts, most of which had horizontal stays about halfway up, making them look like crucifixes and the marina like a cemetery or an impromptu, disorganised shrine. The wind was playing a dissonant, melancholic song of longing, it seemed to me. Tasso’s boat gleamed silver against the black of the water and the sky, and I wondered if Harlin was lurking out there somewhere. I looked around for Goldsworthy’s security but couldn’t see it.
I didn’t want to leave, but I did.
30
I didn’t want to go home because Harlin might be lurking there, so I checked into a city hotel for the night. But then I found I didn’t want to sleep. I lay in the sterile dark on a sterile bed and thought about Melody and what Harlin might do to her if he ever found her. Sleep didn’t come. I thought about having a drink. Finally I got up, dressed and left the hotel.
I wandered the street. It was late on a Monday night, and quiet. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. I had money and I thought if I found a bar that was still trading I might call in, but everything was shut except White Pointer, which I knew was open because the big white neon fin was lit and the blood-red neon water was pulsing. I hesitated for a long moment, and then I thought what the hell. I didn’t recognise the lone bouncer at the door. I nodded to him and went in.
There was no cover charge on a Monday night. The music wasn’t as loud as it had been on that first night, and the dance floor was empty. A small group of men in white shirts and ties were sitting on lounges drinking beer, and a couple of women were perched on stools at the bar. They didn’t look to be together. The barman was chatting to one of them and she seemed to be enjoying his line of chat, so I veered towards the other.
‘Mind if I sit here?’ I said. She was older than thirty and younger than forty and looked like she couldn’t have cared less where I sat. Her cocktail glass was nearing empty.
‘Be my guest, but I’ve got to tell you I’m not looking for company.’
‘Fair enough. Are you looking for another drink? I don’t expect it to buy anything.’
‘A vodka martini.’
‘I might make it two.’
The barman took his time to take my order, and the woman studied her phone. When the drinks arrived she thanked me and gave a short-lived smile. She smelled of cigarette smoke.
‘Monday night, eh?’ she said. ‘The worst night of the week.’
‘You might be right about that.’
‘I am right about that. The city is dead, the people have all scurried home to watch television, which is shit, most of the restaurants are closed, and even the drinks taste like cat’s piss.’ She took a sip of her martini and scowled.
‘I don’t disagree.’
‘Go on, disagree. It’ll keep the conversation going.’
‘I thought you weren’t looking for conversation.’
‘I said I wasn’t looking for company, and I lied. It’s the first thing I tell a man. It’s a filter.’ She had wavy black hair and a face that probably could have been pretty if it had tried. It didn’t seem to be trying. ‘And god knows I need a filter, the number of fuckwit men I’ve had in my time.’
‘So I passed through your first filter.’
‘That’s my second filter.’
‘What’s the first?’
‘No wedding ring. Yes, a guy might still be married, even without a ring, but at least he has the decency to pretend he isn’t.’ She looked at her watch. ‘You just passed my third filter, by the way.’
‘What was that?’
‘You didn’t ask me for a fuck in the first minute. I’m not a fucken prostitute. You’re the first one tonight to get this far. There have been three attempts. Not bad for a Monday night.’ She laughed and looked at the group of white-shirts.
The door on the far side of the dance floor opened, it was the one through which Melody had taken me, Tasso and the girls during the brawl a couple of weeks before. The very large figure of Tiny came through it and headed in my direction, with only the hint of a limp. There was a bandage on his right hand.
‘This will be interesting,’ I said. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Julia.’
‘Julia, it’s been nice to know you, but things are about to get rough and you might want to leave. Don’t worry about the bill.’ I put a fifty on the bar. ‘Will that take care of her and me?’ The barman looked at the note with a sceptical eye. He nodded. ‘With a little change.’ Tiny had me in his sights. Julia hadn’t moved.
‘Hello, Tiny,’ I said. ‘You’re moving well.’
‘You’ve got fucken balls, coming in here.’
He came at me swinging left-handed. I parried his first swing but he landed a weak blow with his right, damaged hand. He tackled me and we fell to the floor, him on top of me. Julia, as far as I could tell, was still perched on her stool. Tiny was a big man and I couldn’t move him. He used his forearm to push against my throat. His face was very close to mine.
‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ he said. He jammed down with his forearm and I couldn’t breathe. It was a choke.
Julia appeared behind his head. ‘Tiny.’ She said it in a commanding way, like a dominatrix. Tiny turned his head. ‘You’re an arsehole.’ She was holding a small canister and she sprayed him with it, right between the eyes. Some of it hit me. Tiny screamed. He always was a good screamer. ‘Fuck’ was the word he seemed to be attempting to articulate. He put his hands to his face and I could breathe again. He rolled off me, still screaming. My eyes were melting.
Julia knelt and took my hand. She spoke in my ear. ‘You okay? Come with me.’ I stood and she led me to a chair. ‘Don’t rub, you’ll make it worse. It’s okay to cry. It helps.’ She started wiping my face with something moist. ‘This will ease the pain.’
‘What is it?’
‘Basically milk.’
It helped. I opened my eyes a slit and looked at her. She somehow managed to look concerned and also that she was enjoying herself.
‘Feel better?’
‘Marginally.’
‘You copped some of the spray. Sorry about that. But Tiny got the worst of it.’
I looked at him. He was still on the floor, his hands on his face. The barman was leaning over him, pretending to be concerned.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Julia.
She led me out of the building. The bouncer was curious, but not curious enough to stop us. My eyes were still burning, but I could see where I was going. We walked to the taxi rank.
‘What was the spray?’ I said.
‘Pepper.’
‘It’s brutal.’
‘It works.’
‘Is it even legal?’
‘No. I bring a new canister back from the States every time I go.’
‘I guess it’s your fourth filter.’
She laughed, a little maniacally. ‘Fourth and last. Survive the pepper spray and you’re in.’
‘I gotta go home,’ I said.
‘Yours, or mine?’
‘Mine. But thanks.’
She laughed again. ‘You’re welcome. This has been the best Monday night ever. What’s your name?’
‘Steve. Steve West.’
She put a business card in my hand and kissed my poor burning cheek.
‘Call me some time.’ She got into a taxi. She was still smiling as it pulled away.
I walked to my hotel, collected my gear and checked out. I called Melody and she said everything was fine and couldn’t I go more than a couple of hours without hearing her voice? Then I called Bert, and he said almost the same thing, but still he was waiting for me when I got home. He had brought an overnight bag and a bottle of milk and he slept in the spare bedroom, just in case Harlin showed. My face was still
hurting and I worried about Melody but eventually I slept, and Harlin didn’t turn up to interrupt my dreams and didn’t feature in them, either.
31
I woke at five and called Melody.
‘This is starting to get creepy, Steve. Are you stalking me?’ She sounded croaky.
‘I thought you sailor types woke up early.’
‘I thought you mining engineer types would sleep in occasionally and leave us sailor types in peace.’
‘I can’t live like this.’
‘Like what?’
‘This. Spending my nights worrying about you. I’m staying on the boat tonight.’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine. Can I go back to sleep now?’
‘Really?’
‘Really what?’
‘It’s really alright for me to spend tonight on the boat? I thought you’d put up more of a fight than that.’
‘Not at five in the morning. At five in the morning I will do whatever you say.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘Har har. Very funny. Steve?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For spending your nights worrying about me.’
I managed to sleep for a couple more hours and Bert was gone when I woke, no doubt to resume his duties with Tasso. The man was a machine. The bed in the spare bedroom had been made and if he had eaten breakfast he must have washed his dirty dishes and put them away because the kitchen was spotless.
I bought a copy of the Advertiser and read it over coffee at a café on my way to work. The front page was all about Harlin, the suspected killer on the loose in little old Adelaide. A photo of Harlin took up a quarter of the front page and I thought it was going to be difficult for him to stay hidden for long with his face on display like that. Inside the paper there was a recycled, two-page spread on ‘Adelaide’s bikie war’ and who was thought to have done what to whom, and why. Parts of the account corresponded with what I knew, but it was so vague it would have left most readers none the wiser. The police commissioner didn’t have any answers, but he praised the officers involved in the bungled arrest, saying they were doing a superb job in difficult circumstances. The Minister for Police deferred all difficult questions to the police commissioner, but he did express outrage at the disrespect the gangsters were showing for the law, and that ‘this is just further evidence that our law on gangs is desperately needed here in South Australia’. The shadow Minister for Police made a statement that was a mirror image of his counterpart’s. There was an article on how Harlin had escaped the clutches of police from his fortress at Globe Derby Park, which was pictured from several angles, including overhead. Tasso’s friend, the Minister for Mineral Resources and Energy, had been somewhat inaccurate: Harlin hadn’t used an escape tunnel, just a gate in the fence. Two Star Force officers had been injured in the melee with members of Harlin’s gang, and there had been four arrests. Harlin had been tracked over the saltpans but the trail had gone cold at the edge of the mangroves. There was an inference that Harlin had been tipped off about his imminent arrest by someone in the South Australia Police.
Over the page was a picture of Melody. It didn’t look recent and it might have been taken in a nightclub, but it was unmistakably her, and, in case there was any doubt, the caption carried her name and dubbed her the ‘girlfriend of gang leader and suspected murderer Christopher Harlin’. The photo was next to an article about how Melody had been dragged by the hair from a Mexican restaurant, allegedly by Harlin. The restaurant’s manager was quoted as saying that the brutal attack had been unprovoked and that he had been scared for the woman’s life. ‘Thang is believed to have been dining at the restaurant with a former Crows footballer when the attack occurred’, said the article. It didn’t mention my name.
My phone rang. It was Tarrant.
‘Any news on Harlin?’ I said.
‘I was going to ask you the same thing. Any idea where he might be?’
‘No.’
‘His deputy, Peter Coy, appears to have gone missing, too.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. You know him?’
‘I’ve met him a few times.’
‘Any insights?’
I took a moment before answering. ‘I might have one or two.’
Tarrant took his time replying, too. He seemed to take a deep breath. ‘Where are you, West? At this fucken minute?’ I told him. ‘Stay there, don’t move. I’m coming to get you. If you’re not there when I get there, I will shoot you the next time I see you and mutilate your body.’
He was there in fifteen minutes, with McGarry, and I hadn’t even shifted in my chair.
‘What the fuck, West,’ he said.
‘Have a seat,’ I said. The café was not crowded but a few heads had turned at Tarrant’s words. When they saw McGarry’s uniform they stayed turned. Tarrant stared at me for a moment, chomping on his gum.
‘No. You’re coming for a ride.’
We drove to the city station and I was led into an interview room, a different one than before and not as nicely decorated.
‘I could have just told you to come here on your own accord, but I didn’t want to waste half a day waiting while you toured the Barossa or something,’ said Tarrant. ‘Now let’s make this quick, so you don’t waste any more of our time and we can focus on catching a killer instead of being dicked around.’
‘I heard Hiskey was involved in drug-smuggling,’ I said. Tarrant didn’t react. ‘I heard that Harlin’s gang makes ecstasy, which it sells here and in the eastern states. There’s a key ingredient called safrole. I looked it up on Google. It’s …’
‘I know what safrole is. It’s extracted from a Southeast Asian rainforest tree.’
‘Yes, there’s a significant industry to produce it in Cambodia, I believe. The tree is cut down and the oil is distilled in situ and then smuggled to China. From there, Hiskey was importing it with his drilling supplies.’
‘And you know this how?’
‘Someone in the gang told me.’
‘Melody Thang?’ said McGarry.
‘No, of course not. She’s not part of the gang.’
‘Not even with her Chinese connections?’
‘No, not even with her Chinese connections, if she has any. Anyway, she’s Chinese Malaysian. Actually, she’s Australian. You shouldn’t link her to any of this just because she looks Asian.’
‘I’m just asking the question,’ said McGarry.
‘Whatever Melody Thang’s involvement is, we can leave for another time,’ said Tarrant. ‘But you will tell us how you know about the safrole.’
‘No. I can’t reveal my sources.’
At this point Tarrant decided to get a few things off his chest. He felt he had to yell them off. He yelled at me about obstructing police, complicity in crime(s), failure to report crime(s), and how if anyone got hurt it would be my fault and I might reflect on that during my year(s) at Yatala Prison. Eventually, after he had yelled enough, he leaned in very close and spoke in a low voice. ‘West, you are not a journalist, a lawyer, a doctor or a priest. You do not have the right to protect your so-called sources. I am very sick of you. I have been wrong to tolerate you for so long. I am keeping a list of all the things you are doing that are against the law. It is a list that is getting longer on a daily basis. When we have put Hiskey’s killer behind bars I will come back to that list and hold you accountable for each item on it if I have to form another fucken task force to do so. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Crystally.’
He leaned back and looked at McGarry. ‘See, he has to be a smartarse. He can’t help it. He’s a congenital smartarse.’ He sighed and tried again. ‘Help me and help yourself, West. Open up, cooperate and we can stop Harlin before he does any more damage. And maybe the list will find its way into a shredder.’
I was seeing sense in his argument. I wondered why I sho
uld bother shielding Coy, a guy who was involved in the manufacture of illicit drugs and who walked around poking his big silver pistol in my face several times a week and presumably in the faces of others.
‘Coy told me,’ I said. ‘He said Hiskey was smuggling the safrole for Harlin’s operation but got greedy and decided to sell it to the Mad Dogs. Harlin didn’t like it and took to Hiskey with a geologist’s hammer. Hiskey’s own hammer, in fact.’
‘Is Harlin capable of that?’ said McGarry.
‘I would think so. I’ve seen him go berserk over lesser things.’ I pointed to my nose. ‘His handiwork.’
‘Did Coy say how he knew this?’
‘He said Harlin had turned up at the fortress with a bloody hammer on the night Hiskey was murdered, and I guess he put two and two together.’
‘And Harlin just gave Coy the hammer?’
‘Yes, according to Coy. He said Harlin gave it to him to get rid of it. Which obviously he didn’t. He left it in my car instead.’
‘Why your car?’ said Tarrant. ‘And why confide all this in you, of all people?’
‘He told me he didn’t like the way Harlin treated Melody. He said he appreciated the way I had got her back from Harlin.’
‘Which you have not told us how.’
‘Which I am not going to tell you how, without a lawyer.’
‘So why would Coy hand over the hammer?’
‘He told me he wanted Harlin put away because the guy was dangerous.’
‘And maybe because Coy wanted the drug business to himself.’
‘Most likely.’
‘Do you know where Coy is now?’
‘No. I guess he’s hiding. He thinks Harlin will try to hunt him down, now the hammer has raised its head, so to speak.’
Tarrant and McGarry left the room. I wondered what Melody was doing. The minutes ticked by. After about forty-five of them a uniformed cop stuck his head in the door and looked surprised that I was still there and told me to bugger off or they’d start charging me rent.
32
Outside the police station I stood on the curb with the idea of catching a taxi back to the café where I’d left my car. It was a warm, bright morning and a light north-westerly was blowing. The street had that lazy Adelaide feeling to it. Not many taxis were rushing past. I felt a tap on my shoulder.
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