Roll With It
Page 25
The men from the Ford were following the tanned man through the front door.
Meanwhile, Laver was cursing at Cecy’s phone.
‘Where’s “office tools” in the menu? Is it the clock?’
‘That’s the alarm,’ Cecy said. ‘It’s the calculator thingo.’
‘Come on, come on.’ Laver was pushing buttons. ‘Voice recorder, perfect!’
The speakerphone picked up the click of a doorhandle being turned and then movement. Cecy, looking up to the first floor, could see the outlines and occasional features of the men in one of the office windows. Saw the suntanned guy who Laver said was the boss move past the window, then watched a man in shirtsleeves, presumably Jake’s boss, pull down a white blind.
Laver huddled over Cecy’s mobile phone. Hitting ‘record’.
Then hearing a man’s voice say: ‘You’re in town? I had no idea.’
Another voice saying, ‘Nobody does, Barry. Except us.’
‘To what do I owe this honour?’
The second voice saying: ‘It’s not an honour, Barry. It’s a fucking mess is what it is.’
Barry spluttering: ‘I can assure you, I’m very confident of reeling in these two, Anderson and Wilde. Your associates here, Mr Wilson and Mr Brunetti, believe they even have the correct address.’
‘Actually they don’t. Mr Wilson has informed me moments ago that the merchandise remains unlocated.’
Laver, listening as he watched Jake emerge from the sliding door, crouching low as though trying to duck helicopter blades as he headed for his car. Laver thinking, ‘Good boy.’
On the speakerphone, nestled up to Cecy’s voice-recording phone, the same voice saying: ‘It would be fair to say I’ve lost confidence in how you’re running the Melbourne end of things, Barry.’
Barry sounding angry. ‘Lost confidence? Like I’m not trying to find them?’
Laver watching Jake fumble and drop his keys, then bend and finally open his car door.
The other voice saying, ‘Barry, we know there’s been contact.’
‘I swear,’ Barry’s voice pleading. ‘I have not laid an eye on them.’
‘Not you.’ A new voice, hard and with a slight British accent. ‘Your assistant.’
‘My assistant? I don’t have an assistant. Karl knows that.’
’Your assistant here. At the supermarket.’
That brought a silence over the phone.
‘Jake? Jake, from here? Bullshit.’
The British voice saying, ‘Not the time for debate, Barry.’
‘You’re saying Jake has been seen with Stig Anderson? That is just fucking ridiculous.’
Jake’s car driving away.
The other voice, the boss, saying, ‘Who’s this Jake?’
The British voice saying, ‘He’s in the next office, boss. He’s been seen with Anderson and Wilde.’
‘Okay, we’ll meet him in a minute.’
Barry’s voice saying, ‘I had no idea.’
The boss’s voice: ’Well, that’s not exactly a shock, Barry. You don’t seem to know shit, even when it’s right under your nose. This is a clusterfuck and I’m closing down the Melbourne end immediately.’
Barry, sounding ever more shocked and confused, saying: ‘Closing down Melbourne?’
The boss: ‘Looks like the Groc-o-Mart will have to go back to making profits off frozen chips.’
‘That’s crap.’ Barry getting angry. ‘Moving your gear is the only reason I’ve even kept this fucking supermarket open.’
‘Well.’ The boss sounding tired. ‘No need for any of us to worry about that anymore, really, is there?’ Laver closing his eyes as the boss said: ‘Especially you, Barry. Mr Brunetti?’
Cecy seeing the flash against the window at the same time as the speakerphone made the sound of a soft punch, dissolving briefly into static.
Cecy stifling a scream and immediately feeling embarrassed. Laver looking at her and mouthing ‘Silencer’ even though the phone was on mute. Putting a hand on her shoulder. Cecy realising she’d been holding her breath.
The speakerphone silent, except for the sounds of movement.
‘That’ll do it,’ said the British voice.
‘Be sacked if I needed two shots from that range,’ said a new voice.
‘What now, boss?’
‘We need to stomp on Anderson and Wilde, immediately. Let’s start with known associates. You know where to find this Lou woman you spoke about?’
Sounds of a door opening.
‘Yeah. I’ll check her house, and work. She’s been seen with the kid from this place too.’
‘This man, Jake?’ The boss sounded surprised.
‘Yeah, the one who works – worked – for Barry.’
‘And he’s in league with Lou, who appears to be close to Anderson? Why haven’t I heard about him before today?’
‘Didn’t think he was a serious player.’
Footsteps and the third voice saying, ‘Jake’s not in his office. His jacket’s gone too.’
The boss saying: ‘Jesus Christ. Is he here? We need them both: him and the chick. One should get us to Stig. It’s time to end this. You good to clean this up?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m leaving. I was never here.’
The British voice asking, ‘How long are you in town for?’
‘Till we’ve sorted this shit and not a second more. Ring me when you have either or both of them. Take them somewhere safe and I’ll meet you there. Tell nobody that I’m here.’
Laver clicking the red hang-up button on both phones, praising an unknown divinity that the batteries held out on all handsets. A minute later, watching the suntanned man walk calmly to his car, get in and drive away. Laver hating having to watch his taillights disappear, knowing the rental plates would bring back John Citizen, or maybe J Smith, tied to a bogus credit card.
One of the two other men emerging now, heading towards the white Ford.
‘What do we do?’ said Cecy, still barely able to breathe. ‘A man just got killed.’
‘We phone the uniforms as we drive.’
‘Shouldn’t we tackle him now? He’s getting away.’
‘I’m not allowed to carry, remember? And these guys are killers.’
‘Tony, we’re police officers. We can’t just watch them drive off.’
‘We’ll get him, and the bloke tidying up. Don’t worry. But we can’t now.’
‘Which means what?’ Cecy asked, still staring at him.
‘Which means I have to get to Lou before they do. Look, you stay here and meet the uniforms when they arrive.’
He could see her brain racing and gently placed a hand on her cheek, stopping her cold. ‘Cecy, listen to me. You’re going to be a very good cop but you are not ready to tackle either of those two. I’m not good enough without a gun.’
She swallowed and nodded. ‘Fair enough. I’ll call Homicide.’ Then asked, ‘What are you going to do?’
Laver watched the white Ford start to move.
‘I’m borrowing your car. I have to get to Smith Street. Fast.’
Cecy got out and Laver switched to the driver’s seat, heading towards the Heidelberg Road exit.
He had swung a hurried right-hand turn towards the city about thirty seconds before a red Holden ute pulled into the car park.
Lou was behind the counter of the Friends of the Planet, selling an anti–Japanese whaling T-shirt to a chick she took to be a uni student, almost certainly media or arts, when she saw the bike cop come through the front door. Not in uniform, but definitely him, and looking intense.
Lou in disbelief as he grabbed her upper arm, hard, and handed the T-shirt to the girl, saying: ‘Here, it’s yours, for free. Damn the Japanese and their fake research. Wear it proud.’
And started marching Lou towards the street.
Lou finally managing to plant her feet enough to slow him down, and screaming the first thing that came to mind: ‘What the fuck?’
‘I’m in charge of the shop. What people? Who wants to kill me? You’re insane.’
‘I’ll explain. In the car.’
Lou twisting and lurching to free her arm, Laver feeling surprisingly strong arm muscles under her jumper.
‘I’m not going with you. Who the fuck do you think you are? This is police harassment.’
The cop shaking his head and almost smiling as he started dragging her towards the door again. ‘Technically maybe, but it’s more personal assault, because I’m not acting officially here.’
‘Listen, you pig arsehole—’
He stopped again and regarded her, never letting go but relaxing his grip. ‘Lou, if you make me shoot you to get you into the car, it would sort of defeat the purpose of what I’m trying to achieve here. We’ve got maybe one minute.’
‘You don’t have a gun.’
‘Very observant. Let’s move.’
The student with the T-shirt, watching all of this openmouthed, finally managed: ‘You want me to call the police?’
‘He is the fucking police!’ yelled Lou, being dragged bodily to the street, Laver’s arm now around her waist as she struggled.
‘Pigs, man,’ said the student hotly. ‘The damn pigs.’
‘You said it, sister,’ Laver agreed and was finally out the door.
Getting her into Cecy’s car took some work, so Laver could have kissed Jake for being right where he was supposed to be, in the Clifton Hill McDonald’s car park.
Lou, after listening to Laver’s story on the way to the McDonald’s, had said flatly: ‘That is so much bullshit. Nobody was coming for me. I don’t know them, whoever they are, and Stig is not a drug runner.’ But thinking to herself: so, it’s all true.
Now watching Jake, inexplicably in his stupid hat, locking his car and diving into the back seat, looking like a ghost as he registered Lou, still tight-lipped and furious, in the front passenger seat. Laver wondering if the white Ford had made it to the Friends of the Planet yet.
The traffic wasn’t as bad as it could have been, Laver weaving through the lanes expertly but leaving little room for error as they sped past the university, wound around the zoo and finally took the up-ramp onto the Bolte Bridge. Peak hour not yet in full choke mode as they cleared the Westgate Bridge and set sail for Geelong, going at least a hundred and thirty.
Lou, arms crossed, face like thunder, hissing: ‘I still say this is kidnapping and I’m laying charges.’
Laver sitting totally upright in the driver’s seat, the early afternoon sun still high enough to be thwarted by the sun visor. ‘Fine. Later, you can do whatever you like. The beauty being you’ll be alive to feel angry. For now, just let me drive.’
Jake looking white as a sheet and young as he huddled in the cramped back seat. Once, he tried, briefly, to put a comforting hand on Lou’s shoulder – which was why her arms were now folded tightly across her chest.
Trying to make sense of the last hour, of feeling so violated. Bodily dragged. By a cop.
But also trying to sort out what the cop had said and feeling unsettled by Jake’s shaken manner. Trying to just take deep breaths and get her head around it, all the way to the Torquay Road out of Grovedale.
Laver driving with a sharp but easy concentration, apart from when his phone rang and he drove one-handed, saying into the phone: ‘Has Homicide put an APB on the Ford and the Commodore?
‘Did the recording come out okay?
‘Have you got hold of Flipper yet? … Sorry, Detective Senior Sergeant Dolfin. With an f, not a p-h.
‘It wasn’t a kidnapping. Tell Slattery I don’t need to turn myself in. … Yeah? … In that case, tell him to shove it where the saddle usually goes. Like I have time for that bullshit.
‘I’ll keep you out of whatever happens from here, I promise.
‘Your car is fine. You could wash the windscreen occasionally.
‘Cecy? I might not get another chance to say this so … Thanks.’
Laver hung up.
From the back seat, Jake’s voice said: ‘Did you say “homicide”?’
***
The Wild Man parked the ute illegally on Smith Street, about five shops up from the Friends of the Planet. Still pissed off that the kid hadn’t been at the Groc-o-Mart. Not entirely believing the check-out chick who’d said he wasn’t answering his phone upstairs, but not about to kick in the door to the office area and cause a scene when he was pretty sure the kid’s face would be in the news in a day or so. Also noticing that the kid’s car wasn’t in the car park.
So he’d changed tack and headed for Lou. The kid might be with her anyway, if he was lucky. But instead was almost at the door when, shit, he saw one of Jenssen’s enforcers, Wilson, about to leave the shop. Wildie ducking into a gallery of street art, heart thumping and barely able to believe Wilson hadn’t seen him. Placing a hand on the pistol in his belt just in case.
But now watching Wilson crossing the road and getting into the white Ford, heading north.
Wildie leaving his car and running the four blocks to Louie’s house in Fitzroy. Hammering on the door until it was eventually opened by a guy in a stripy T-shirt and board shorts, wearing a blond, scruffy student beard and glasses.
‘Like, what’s with all the commotion?’
Wildie pushing straight past him, stiff-arming the guy against the wall on the way past.
‘What the—’
‘Where’s Louie?’ The Wild Man’s voice even more of a growl than usual.
‘Lou?’
‘Where is she?’
‘Not here. I don’t know.’
‘Where’s her room?’
‘Dude, you can’t just come in and—’
‘Where is her room, dipshit? You have five seconds. In fact, fuck that. You don’t.’
Wildie punched the housemate hard in the stomach. He crumpled to the floor, moaning and writhing.
‘Which fucking door?’
The housemate, gasping for air, lifting an arm from his gut to point to a door down the corridor. Wildie barging through the door and finding himself in a woman’s bedroom. Organic face creams and other potions on a chest of drawers. A cupboard full of multi-coloured clothing. A dream catcher floating on a piece of string from the ceiling to above the pillow of the double bed. No signs of somebody having packed a bag. No sign of flight.
The housemate on his hands and knees in the corridor. ‘You can’t just come into a guy’s house, man, and …’
But the Wild Man could. He grabbed the housemate by the throat, just to feel the rush of violence, lifted him to his feet, just like that, and held him for a moment, before slamming him against the wall.
‘You might want to think about re-letting her room,’ he said. And left.
Knowing he shouldn’t have let himself go like that but then thinking he was leaving Melbourne forever tonight. Let the cops look.
By the time Wildie got back to Carlton, Stig looked slightly less stoned than he had, pacing the lounge room. But shook his head when Wildie raised an eyebrow.
‘Nobody wants to know. Jenssen’s blokes being in town has everyone spooked. Barry’s our one shot. Tonight.’
‘He’s definitely on?’
‘I think so. I tried to double check but he’s not answering his phone.’
***
Through Geelong, they had taken the Torquay turnoff and passed through that town, past the giant surf retail outlets, past the footy oval and then sweeping right past the golf course, until they turned left into Jan Juc.
‘We’re going where?’ asked Lou.
Laver grinned from the driver’s seat. ‘You won’t believe this but we’re going to 77 Sunset Strip.’
Lou and Jake stared blankly at him.
‘You don’t know that TV show?’
/> They still stared.
‘Shit, it was before my time too, but at least I know it. You don’t even know the jingle? The music?’
He gave up.
They pulled into a side street and then a driveway to park behind a weather-beaten timber house with a sprawling backyard featuring a Kombi, a partial motorbike that was either half-dismantled or half-rebuilt, a couple of pushbikes and a quiver of longboards. There was also a lot of unmown grass, and a rolled-up hose.
Dogs inside the house started barking like mad until a male voice snarled: ‘Carl! Benji! Quiet!’
Laver got out of the car and stretched, breathing the sea air, as the house’s back door opened and the dogs, a kelpie and a pug, shot out, heading to the car, barking insanely, noses twitching. A man appeared, tall and suntanned and with surf-bleached dreadlocks. He was wearing a faded green singlet and board shorts, and a couple of necklaces featuring wood carvings and possibly something hewn from bone. Tribal tattoos sprawled down his left shoulder.
‘Dogs. Shut up!’ he roared, and they did.
Now he stood watching Laver tickle Carl the kelpie under the chin, Benji the pug trying to nuzzle in for some of the action, flipping over on his back and lifting a paw for better tummy access.
‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t the killer cop,’ the man said.
‘Charming,’ replied Laver. ‘Your body count beats mine, prick.’
‘Nice to see you too,’ the man grinned. ‘A bloke could ring first.’
‘Sometimes it’s best not to trust a mobile phone.’
‘Oh. Like that, hey?’
‘Yep.’
Jake had gotten out of the car and was standing, two dog noses sniffing him, as the cop shook hands with the surfer dude.
Laver turned and said, ‘Jake, this is Bushy. He used to be one of us but now he’s an ambo.’
‘Ambo?’ asked Jake faintly.
The surfer’s eyes were surrounded by creased skin, laugh lines on his face. ‘Yeah, a paramedic. Drive an ambulance.’ He twirled a finger. ‘Woo woo woo woo woo?’
‘I know what an ambulance is,’ Jake said dumbly.
‘Well, a bloke can’t be sure,’ said Bushy.