Drew paused and looked at me for a while, the way teachers look at less-than-quick pupils. ‘These people don’t think bribery is a crime, Jack,’ he said. ‘It’s just an alternative way to get things done. Blackmail? Well, some people won’t co-operate. Rough stuff, murder maybe? Well, accidents happen. Some of the smarter ones even take the long view. They’ve gone into politics, stacking party branches, getting the right people into Parliament.’
Drew paused, spoke slowly. ‘I’m talking about Joe Kwitny, Jack. Charis fucking Corporation.’
He sat back. I didn’t know quite what to say. Drew didn’t normally deliver lectures. We ate in silence for a while. Then he said, ‘Well, that’s the lecture. That’s the way the world is now, and mate, you have been wandering around in it like some yokel from Terang in town for the day. You think you’re doing something good, not so? You see it in terms of right and wrong, justice, that kind of thing. Well, pardon me, you know and I know that the system is not about fairness. It’s not about good and bad. It’s not about right and wrong. It’s about power, Jack. I know that. You should know that.’
‘At least I knew when to back off.’
Drew shook his head. ‘I don’t know if you’ve backed off in time. One thing’s for sure. Bruce is no white knight. He’s going to rebury this smelly stuff you’ve been digging up. You just have to make sure he doesn’t put you in the hole too.’
‘I could get myself some insurance.’
He cocked his head. ‘Don’t follow you?’
‘Say it gets into the papers.’
Drew didn’t reply until he had aligned his cutlery, wiped his mouth with his napkin, folded it, put it under his side plate, signalled the waiter and ordered two brandies.
‘Mate,’ he said, ‘don’t let the thought cross your mind. If they can hang this stuff on anybody, it’ll be on small fry and people already dead. And you’ll keep. These people have got long memories. They’ll come back for you.’
At home, I could smell Linda’s perfume on the pillows. For a moment, I lay there, drowning in a sense of loss. Then I got up and changed the sheets and pillowcases. I slept better. The first night is always the worst.
Phillip Epstein, art dealer, didn’t ask to see the provenance, although I had it.
‘You’d expect, what?’ he said.
‘I need twenty-five thousand as soon as possible,’ I said. ‘They should cover that.’
He patted my arm. ‘Sisley,’ he said. ‘I think that’s a reasonable expectation. Where on earth did you get them?’
‘From my wife. Her grandfather once owned the whole notebook.’
He frowned. ‘You’ve got more?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘They’re the only material thing I’ve got left that’s worth anything.’
‘I’ll be happy to advance the twenty-five thousand. We’d want to take our time selling.’
‘It would help,’ I said, ‘if it was in cash.’
He smiled. ‘Let’s go in the back and have a drink. We’re not talking used notes in small denominations, are we?’
‘Large denominations would be better.’
25
Hardhills was as we’d left it: cold, damp, three utes and a dog outside the pub. On the way, Harry said, ‘Fill you in, Jack, next Saturday’s the day. Caulfield, race four. Two thousand four hundred. Bit short for the bloke’s breeding but it’ll do. Next point. We’re puttin a girl on him.’
‘I thought it was going to be Mick Sayre,’ I said.
Harry popped a Smartie. ‘Turns out Mickey’s a bit of a worry,’ he said. ‘Cam here was talkin to a clocker, fella who knows a few things. Says Mickey put a whole Greek syndicate on a plunge up in Sydney. On the day the stable got such a fright when they saw the odds go to buggery, they told Mick, bugger this, we’re not goin on at four to one, we’ll do it another day. Trouble was, Mickey’s more frightened of the Greeks than the stable. Wins three lengths clear. Next start, two to one favourite. Greeks love Mick but he doesn’t ride for that stable any more.’
‘Who’s the girl?’
Harry turned and gave me a wink. ‘You might’ve seen her. Nicest little bum on the turf.’
‘That’s her qualification?’
Harry smiled. ‘Nancy Farmer. Rides for her dad. Harold. Two city wins. Mostly she rides the cattle out in the bush. Cam’s happy. Wanted a girl from the start.’
‘Why’s that?’
Cam was driving the big BMW. He took it around a speeding semi with a smooth change-down and a burst of power before he gave me a glance. ‘There’s two reasons,’ he said. ‘One, women can keep their mouths shut. They don’t get on the phone, go down the pub, do all their mates a favour. Reason two, a little girl’s been looking after this bloke fulltime for a year. They’re in love. Her and her brother’s all that’s ridden him. You don’t want to put some cocky bastard on him, hard hands, knows it all, thinks he can thrash him home.’
‘I’m convinced,’ I said. ‘What about her bum?’
‘Bum?’ Cam said. ‘Since when do jockeys have bums?’
We parked in the same place as before. Cam got out to have a smoke. Harry put his seat back.
‘She’ll be along in a minute,’ he said.
‘The jockey?’
‘Staying at Ericson’s till the race. I want her to get to know this Dakota Dreamin.’
An old Land Rover pulled up next to us. A woman in her early twenties got out, moleskins, checked shirt, short hair, windburnt face: lean as string. Cam went over. They shook hands, said a few words.
Cam came back and got in, drove off. She followed us around and over the low hills and parked next to us at Ericson’s. She was out quickly, waiting, hands in flap pockets.
It was just as cold as the time before. Cam said, ‘This is Mr Strang and Mr Irish, Mr Strang’s lawyer.’ We shook hands. She was good-looking, big mouth, no make-up, a hint of wariness in the eyes.
‘You’re on time. That’s good,’ said Harry.
Tony Ericson came up the gravel path from the stables. More handshakes.
‘Use your kitchen table, Tony?’ Harry said. ‘Bit of talkin to do.’
Ericson led us inside the house and down a passage to a big, warm kitchen with an old Aga stove. We sat down at the table. Harry was at the top. Nancy Farmer was opposite me. She put her elbows on the table and laced her fingers. She had big wrists and strong hands like Harry’s.
‘Nancy,’ said Harry. ‘Mr Delray told you he wanted you to ride a bit of track on this Dakota Dreamin before Saturday.’
She said, ‘That’s right.’
Harry said, ‘This horse is goin to win.’
She kept looking at him, no expression.
‘It’s goin to win,’ Harry said, ‘because it’s the best horse in the race. There’s nothin else happenin.’
Nancy nodded. A little tension went out of her shoulders. ‘Why me?’ she asked.
‘Like your style, good hands, got a bit extra out of that Home Boy in the spring.’
‘Didn’t get me any more races in town,’ she said.
Harry smiled. ‘This’ll be the makin of you. Tony, tell Nancy about this bloke.’
Tony Ericson didn’t do much public speaking but he got through it. At the end, he said, ‘He goes down the beach every day. Me girl rides him in the water, on the sand. Four days he does a bit of track, not too much. Not the way the others do it, but he’s rock-hard now. Just right.’