‘Steve West? I’m James Barenfanger. We need to talk.’
I looked at the man they called Fang, president of the Mad Dogs. It was the first time I had seen him close. He was a big man, several inches taller than me. His shoulder-length hair was dark brown, and he wore tortoise-shell-framed sunglasses that were narrow enough to show his eyebrows above them. He was a handsome man, and knew it.
‘Do we have something to talk about?’ I said.
‘I believe we do.’ He held up his hands, palms towards the sky. ‘No harm in talking, is there?’
‘Let’s hear it, then.’
‘Not here. I know a place.’ I followed him without enthusiasm to a coffee house on Grenfell Street. Fang nodded to the bald man behind the counter and led me to a small room at the back, which the shop staff possibly used in their breaks. There was a small table and a couple of folding chairs, and on the table was a paperback novel, bookmarked about halfway through. There were bags of coffee on shelves.
‘We won’t be disturbed here, and no one will hear us,’ said Fang. He closed the door. ‘I have an arrangement with the management. Nugget’ll bring us coffee in a minute and then he’ll leave us alone.’
I sat down. ‘I hope this won’t take long, Barenfanger.’
‘Call me Fang, it’s easier. No, it won’t take long.’ He had removed his sunglasses, exposing clear, cold, deadly blue eyes. Nugget knocked on the door and brought in a couple of cappuccinos. He gave me a disinterested look as if to say he definitely wouldn’t remember that I’d been there, and left without a word.
‘Some people say cappuccinos are for girls,’ said Barenfanger. ‘I don’t care. I like cappuccinos.’ He took a sip.
‘I don’t mind them.’
‘The world is changing, West. It’s okay to like cappuccinos.’
‘It’s okay to be gay, too,’ I said. He didn’t like that. His deadly eyes lined me up. ‘Don’t take that the wrong way, by the way,’ I said.
He kept his killer look for a moment and then suddenly grinned. ‘I’ve been told you’re a smartarse, West. I can see it’s true. Yes, it’s okay to be gay these days, if that’s your thing. It’s okay to watch porn movies. It’s okay to do drugs. And I guess it’s okay to be a smartarse.’ He put his cup on the table and leaned towards me. ‘But if you believe the papers, the world’s going to hell and this city’s in the middle of a gang war over control of the drug trade.’
‘And you’re telling me it’s not?’
He smiled. It was a small smile, and it didn’t make me feel warm. ‘The papers get it right sometimes. I do want control of the city’s drug trade. And I’ll get it.’
‘You know, I had a similar conversation with Peter Coy.’
He sipped his coffee. There was something wrong with his mouth. It was too small for his face and the lips were too thin, even for his small mouth. It detracted from his handsomeness and emphasised his conceitedness. ‘Yes, I heard you’d had a few run-ins lately with Harlin and Coy.’
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Doesn’t matter where I heard it. The point is, I want their business. This is a small town. You and I have a mutual interest. You’ve got a good reason to want Harlin and Coy removed, shall we say, and so have I. All I want from you is information, and I’ll do the rest.’
‘What sort of information?’
‘I want to know where their new lab is.’
‘I don’t know where it is.’
‘Maybe you’ll find out. If you do, you should let me know.’
‘What would you do?’
‘Don’t worry about that.’ He gave another mealy smile. ‘My ultimate goal, of course, is to smash Harlin’s business.’
‘And what’s in it for me?’
‘Money.’
‘Don’t need it.’
‘Influence, then. You operate on the edge of the law, West, I can see that. Sometimes you need favours. Let me assure you, you would rather be my friend than my enemy.’
‘I would rather I didn’t know you at all.’
He laughed. With his small mouth, it wasn’t an attractive laugh, but his amusement seemed genuine. He wrote on a piece of paper and gave it to me.
‘This is my number. I have a small army at my disposal. We can help each other.’
33
I retrieved my car and drove to the marina, following Bert’s instructions on how to make sure I wasn’t being followed. It was another hot, sunny, cloudless day. There was a light but persistent breeze and the boats in the marina were rocking, glinting, chiming. Tasso’s launch was the biggest boat there and also the glintiest and least chimey. The tender was tied to the stern.
Melody looked surprised but not disappointed to see me. She was mopping the deck in a T-shirt and cut-offs.
‘When I first saw you at White Pointer you looked like you’d never done a day’s work in your life,’ I said. ‘Now look at you.’
‘Up yours.’
‘And I never knew that mopping could be a spectator sport.’
She came at me and used the mop to pin me against the railing.
‘Take your perving eyes below.’
‘By below you mean …’
‘The galley. Go make coffee.’
It was my third coffee for the day, and the best. We sat in the shade of the awning.
‘I think you’re worrying unnecessarily,’ said Melody. ‘I can’t see how Harlin can possibly know I’m here.’
‘I can think of several ways. Goldsworthy’s surveillance team, for example. It only takes one of them to be a mate of Harlin’s, and that’s not impossible. The security business is infested with gang members and wannabees, if you believe the Advertiser. Also, you haven’t exactly been cringing below deck. Someone might have spotted you. Maybe there are people here who have made their millions in the drug trade and know Harlin. And now your photo’s all over the paper, it’s even more likely that word will get out.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Anyway, me being here is a win-win.’
‘How’s that?’
‘You get more protection, so that’s a win. And you get the pleasure of my company. Win-win.’
‘And you get to perv at me in shorts.’
‘Win-win-win.’
After a while I phoned Tasso and he said he didn’t need me for anything and to take as much time as I wanted ‘protecting’ Melody.
‘Eventually Harlin will be caught and everything will settle down,’ I said to him.
‘We should go for a cruise,’ said Tasso. ‘Why don’t we go to Perth, spend a few days there, go to Rottnest, maybe go north a little way. Of course, we’d need to hire a proper captain.’
‘Are you saying you’re not a proper captain?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘I risked my life those times?’
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Melody would love to go for a cruise. Let’s do it.’
I relayed the idea to Melody and I was right—she loved it. She spent a large part of the rest of the day studying charts of the Great Australian Bight while I lay in the shade and dozed and thought about Harlin and where the hell he could be.
We took a chance and drove into Port Adelaide for dinner. We found an Italian place that looked decent and, as far as Melody knew, didn’t have any gangland connections. We both ordered squid-ink pasta and laughed at each other’s black lips and teeth.
‘Stop smiling,’ she said. Which only made me smile more.
Towards the end of the meal, as we waited for the waiter to bring dessert for us to share, there was a lull in the conversation.
‘Oh dear, you’ve turned serious,’ she said.
‘I just remembered Harlin.’
‘Please let’s not talk about him.’
‘I think we have to. I don’t like just waiting for him to show up. I should be more proactive.’
‘Proactive?’
‘Yes. I should take the initiative, go and look for him. You know him.
Where would he hide?’
‘The problem is, there are a lot of things about Harlin I don’t know. He’s secretive. I knew he was involved in drugs because he always had drugs when I needed them, but I really didn’t know anything about the business. He kept me away from it.’
‘Think he has a lair somewhere?’
‘Probably.’
‘Any idea where?’
She thought about it. ‘No. Sorry.’
We ate our dessert, clashing spoons more than once and fighting over the last of it. By the time we left the restaurant we were smiling again. And the black was gone from her teeth.
The marina was next to the Port River and in the light of a squinting moon we walked to the groyne and looked out over the river’s still water. The Torrens Island power station stacks were black against the sky, navigation lights blinking. A pleasure cruiser motored past, lit with party lights and noisy with laughter and music. The air was humid and the stars were dim.
‘Thunderstorms are forecast,’ said Melody.
‘Maybe we should stay onshore tonight, just in case.’
‘The ship is safer than a hotel.’ She put her arm around my waist. ‘But you’re welcome to stay ashore if you want.’
‘I’ll risk a lightning strike.’
We went on board, and with silent mutual agreement we ended up in the same bed. We were still dressed. For a long time, we kissed and snuggled. The thunderstorms didn’t materialise but there was electricity and everything I touched felt live. The moon was strong. In its light I could see her face and her hair and her deep eyes. Then I had the bright idea of unbuttoning her shirt, but she stayed my hand.
‘Don’t be in such a hurry.’
‘I have some urgent business.’
‘Tell me why you love me.’
The question had a significant assumption built into it, but I let it ride. I gave her a list of what I thought were compelling reasons. She kissed me and broke away.
‘Aren’t those fairly shallow?’
I listed a few more compelling reasons. She kissed me and broke away again.
‘Tell me more.’
I told her she was bloody greedy and then gave her a couple more reasons. I must have nailed it, then, because there was no more resistance. I re-attempted the first button but struggled, and she helped me with it and did the others herself.
‘You’re very proactive,’ I said.
‘You’re very incompetent.’
‘I have certain skills.’
‘Show me.’
‘Alright.’
I woke with a gun at my head.
I think you can react in one of two ways to waking with a gun at your head. One way is to shit yourself but otherwise freeze in fear, and the other is to shit yourself and lash out. You can’t choose which; one or the other just happens. For me, it was the second way. As I woke I yelled and lashed out, knocking the gun. It went off. The noise was frightening and the flash blinding. I didn’t feel the bullet. I jumped up as Melody screamed. She lunged across the bed at a dark figure. Harlin.
‘Leave us alone you arsehole.’ She hammered him with her fists. He hit her with the gun, knocking her back. I grabbed his wrist to stop him aiming the gun, and we struggled.
‘Fuck my girl, will you?’ he said. His head was near mine. I butted him. It didn’t seem to hurt him. He tore his gun-hand free and took another shot at me as I overbalanced. There was pain in my side. Harlin grabbed Melody by the hair and dragged her off the bed towards the cabin door. But as she hit the floor she grabbed the axe handle. With a two-handed grip she swung it at him, backwards over her head, and hit him in the forehead. The blow stunned him and he let her go. Melody stood and raised the handle at him again. He backed away and pointed the gun at her. There was a moment when I thought he would fire, the two of them poised in silent mutual hate. Instead, he turned and left the cabin. Melody followed him out, screaming at him. There was another shot. She came back.
‘He shot at me,’ she said.
‘You okay?’
‘He just wanted to scare me.’ She was holding her head where Harlin had hit her with the gun. ‘What about you?’ An outboard motor started. ‘I don’t think he would’ve minded if he’d killed you.’ She switched on the cabin light and knelt next to me. She was still naked, and her face was swelling. I was holding my side, and blood was oozing between my fingers.
‘Show me,’ she said. She eased my hand away from the wound. ‘It doesn’t look bad. It’s only a graze.’ She grabbed the first aid kit and applied a wad of gauze. She held it in place by wrapping a long bandage tightly around my stomach. She grabbed an icepack from the freezer and put it to her face.
Someone called from outside. ‘Anyone on board? Ahoy there.’
We dressed and went on deck. A security guard was on the boardwalk, flashing a torch at us.
‘Everything alright? I thought I heard gunshots.’
‘We’ve been attacked.’
‘You hurt?’
‘Not really. The guy got away.’
‘Is that him?’ The security guard pointed into the darkness. I followed his arm and made out a small boat.
‘The arrogant prick,’ I said. He’s waiting for me, I thought. He’s daring me to follow. ‘Call Tasso,’ I said to Melody. ‘Call Tarrant, call Bert.’
‘What are you going to do?’
I ran to the tender, jumped in and disengaged it from the launch. Melody yelled from the boardwalk.
‘You’re not going after him?’
‘I am.’
‘Don’t be stupid. You don’t know a thing about boats.’ The first thing I had to do was get the propeller into the water. ‘He will kill you.’
I could still make out Harlin’s boat in the darkness, but it had started to move away. The propeller was in the water now. I started the motor and tested the throttle. The tender did a three-sixty.
‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ Melody said again. ‘Let him go.’ I wrestled with the steering and managed to go in a straight line. I turned the tender and brought it back close to the boardwalk. Melody and the guard were looking down at me.
‘I think I’ve got the hang of it,’ I said.
‘Steve, let him go,’ said Melody.
‘And then what? Wait for him to come back?’
‘Let the cops deal with it.’
‘Hey mate,’ I called to the guard. ‘Lend me your gun.’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, no can do. I’d get sacked.’
‘Tell them I grabbed it from you.’
‘I’d still get sacked.’
‘The guy is a murderer.’
‘Then let him go. Let the cops deal with him, like your girlfriend said.’
‘I’m not sure they can. I’m going after him, with or without a gun.’
‘Do you know the paperwork I would have to fill in to report a missing firearm?’
Melody put her hand on his arm. ‘Please. I know the guy out there. He’ll kill him. I know Steve, too. He’s idiot enough to go charging off after him, with or without a gun.’ The guy didn’t stand a chance. She was rubbing his arm now. He looked left and right and behind him and then up at the sky, sighed, and unclipped his pistol from its holster. He reached down and dropped it into the tender.
‘I’ll tell ’em you nicked it while I was making love to your girlfriend.’
‘Don’t forget I have a gun.’ He laughed. ‘If you lose your job I’ll get you one in mining,’ I said. ‘It’ll pay better. What’s your name?’
‘Ray.’
‘You work for Goldsworthy?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then don’t worry. He works for us.’
‘I know.’
I picked up the gun and put it in the waistband of my shorts.
‘Don’t let him kill you,’ said Melody. The last I saw of her, she was dialling a number on her phone. I gunned the motor and headed off after Harlin, who was no longer in view.
34
Tas
so’s launch was berthed towards the back of the marina and to get out of it I had to navigate almost its full length between two rows of expensive moored boats. I motored past the clubhouse and into the Port River. No other vessel was in sight, and I turned northward, for no particular reason except that was what we had done on my two voyages with Tasso. Then I caught sight of Harlin. The moon was low in the sky now, but its reflection was still glimmering on the water. Harlin was in what looked like an ordinary tinny. Maybe he saw me, too, because he accelerated.
We were in the middle of the Port River, Harlin about two hundred metres ahead. The Torrens Island power station loomed, silent and somehow sinister. I pulled out Ray’s gun and looked at it. It was a Glock, and I knew I could use it if I needed to. I worked the slide a little to check that a round was in the chamber.
I should have turned back. I should have realised the stupidity of pursuing Harlin, but the gun in my hand made me brave. Harlin also had a gun, and he had much more skill on the water. He knew the river better than me, and he was almost certainly a better shot. But the gun in my hand gave me a sense of power. It made me stupid.
Below Torrens Island the river divides. One arm continues straight along the western edge of the island and then doglegs to the south past Outer Harbor to the gulf. The other arm, called Barker Inlet, heads east and then north; it leads into a mangrove forest, behind which lurk the saltpans and the Bolivar sewerage treatment works. For a while I thought Harlin was going to stay on the straight arm, but once he was clear of the breakwater he turned abruptly east. I followed him around, a minute or two later. We passed another channel to our left, cleared its rip and continued east, passing under the Grand Trunkway Bridge and along the southern flank of Garden Island.
It was not a James Bond kind of boat chase. For a long time we didn’t seem to move much. I didn’t gain on him and I didn’t fall behind. We turned towards the north. The wound in my side was hurting. We were among the mangroves now. It was high tide and they were flooded, but there was a clear main channel, with minor channels to the left and right. We stuck to the main channel as we passed under the power lines that fed Salisbury and Elizabeth with power generated at Torrens Island. They were the same lines that passed over Harlin’s fortress. Harlin steered towards the eastern edge of the main channel and swung into the mangrove mass along one of the minor channels. I followed him in.
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