CHAPTER 8
Ray Boland spent twenty years in the Police Surveillance Unit - known as the Dog Squad - learning how to spy on his fellow citizens. He was a wizard with surveillance equipment, could concentrate for hours on a target, go for days without sleep and tail suspects like a ghost.
After he got sacked for playing golf when he should have been on a stakeout, he set up a business that advised companies on how to counter electronic eavesdropping. However, deep down, he was still a watcher and listener.
Gary drove over to Cremorne and knocked on his front door. Anne Boland answered it. Like many of his friends' wives, she thought he was a bad influence. Maybe they held an annual convention.
She eyed him suspiciously. "Hello, Gary. You want Ray?"
"Yes. Is he in?"
"We're having dinner."
She obviously hoped he'd come back later. But nothing he did would win him brownie points. She felt she should have chosen a better husband than Ray, and Ray should have chosen a better friend than Gary.
He said: "Can I come in anyway? I won't grab anyone's food."
She scowled and stepped back. Gary strolled down the hallway to the dining room, where he found Ray spooning mash potato onto the plate of his eight-year-old son, Scott.
Ray resembled a Thunderbird with his close-cropped hair, chiselled features, regular teeth, little ears and a small frame. Scott looked like a shrunken version of his dad.
Gary said: "Evening boys."
Ray smiled. "Hello, Gary. What're you doing here?"
"Thought I'd drop in and see how you're getting on. I might also have some work for you."
Anne looked wary. "What sort of work?"
He had to lie. "Oh, nothing much: I want Gary to do some worker's comp surveillance, if he's got time."
Ray said: "OK. You eaten yet?"
Gary hadn't and was quite hungry, but wouldn't accept Anne's grudging hospitality. "Yep, I'm fine thanks. I'll just watch."
He sat and enviously watched them wolf down lamb chops and vegies. Scott scooped up some peas and put them in his mouth.
Gary noticed the boy had a black eye. "What happened to your eye?"
"A big kid in my class keeps hitting me."
"Then hit him back."
Scott's eyes widened. "He's lots bigger than me; he's the biggest kid in the whole class."
"So what? He's probably a big bag of wind. Most bullies are. I tell you what. The next time you see him, walk straight up to him and punch him in the gut. No warning - just bang. That's how to deal with him."
Scott looked dubious. "He might not like that."
"Betchya he cries like a baby."
Anne spoke sharply. "Please don't put silly ideas in his head."
"I'm doing him a favour."
"I've spoken to his teacher. She's going to do something about it."
The school was obviously teaching the kid cowardice, but Gary didn't want an argument.
After dinner, Gary suggested to Ray that they go out to his shed. Ray glanced at his wife for permission and she reluctantly nodded.
The shed had a long bench, stacked high with gardening tools and an assortment of electronic surveillance equipment. Parabolic mikes. Contact mikes. Radio bugs. Laser bugs. Infinity and drop-switch bugs. Hook-switch blocks. Homing devices. Radio scanners. An infra-red camera. If Ray ever went over to the dark side of surveillance and became a Peeping Tom, he was well equipped.
Gary said: "Jesus, where'd you get all this stuff?"
"I've been collecting it for years. Some I bought; some I made myself."
They both sat on stools.
Gary said: "How's work?"
"Fantastic. Businessmen are paranoid about bugs, so I'm always doing sweeps."
"You ever find bugs?"
"Sometimes."
"And who planted them?"
"Nope, that's usually impossible," Ray said with a wicked smile.
"In other words: you've never turned yourself in."
Ray giggled. "Let me just say: if I find a bug, there is always repeat business."
"I bet there is."
Ray picked up a parabolic mike and fiddled with it. "Anyway, you said you want help with a surveillance job."
Gary coughed nervously. "Not exactly."
"Then what do you want?"
Gary told him about Tony Thompson's death and how he'd been employed to find his girlfriend, Trixie Powell.
Ray said: "Yeah, and how can I help?"
"I've been following Trixie's mum around and got nowhere. So I want to bug her phone in case Trixie gives her a call. Will you do that for me?"
"You mean, break into her house?"
"Yep."
Ray would find that easy. At the Police Academy, a master burglar on day-release taught him everything worth knowing about illegal entry. But he shook his head. "No fucking way. You must be kidding."
"Why not?"
"Because - correct me if I'm wrong - breaking into people's homes is illegal. So's planting bugs."
"True, but, in this case, the ends justify the means."
"Why?"
"I get a bonus if I find Trixie."
"Hah. What if I end up in prison?"
"Don't worry, you won't get caught."
"Bullshit. Prisons are full of people who thought that."
Gary shifted to flattery. "You know, I hate it when a guy like you - a genius at his craft - lacks confidence. You should enjoy your talent and try to express it. Let me help you do that."
Ray looked unimpressed. "Self-confidence won't help me in gaol. I've got a wife and kid."
Gary sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Jesus, you're frustrating."
Ray frowned. "Sorry, the answer is no."
"Come on Ray, I need your help, please."
"No, no, no. Anne keeps saying I shouldn't listen to you, and she's right. You'll just get me into trouble."
Gary said: "She's really cut off your balls, hasn't she? Maybe I should go and ask for them back. I'll put out my hand and say: 'Anne, I know they're small and useless, but Ray needs them.'"
Ray crossed his arms. "Do what you like. I won't plant the bug. I've given you my answer, and it's final."
Gary played his last card. "Don't you want to know how much I'll pay?"
Ray's eyes gleamed slightly and Gary knew he had him. "How much?"
Gary wondered how much of the ten thousand dollars he could spare. "Oh, a thousand, for an hour's work."
"That's not much for breaking into someone's house. What if I get caught?"
Gary shook his head sadly. "There you go again, being negative. God, I hate it when you get down on yourself like this."
"Sorry, it's not enough."
"Fifteen hundred?"
The gleam grew brighter. "I'll do it for two."
"No, I said fifteen hundred. I have to make some money out of this gig. When do you want to plant the bug?"
Ray frowned and sighed. "What about Tuesday?"
"Good. We'll do it then. It'll be a pleasure working with you again."
Ray rolled his eyes. "I must be mad. Anne always says I don't think before I act."
Anne was undoubtedly right. That was the only possible explanation for why Ray married her.
Not Dead Yet Page 9