‘Yeah, well, you’d know all about that,’ Stella said, and the way she said it was like a knife slicing through Bax’s heart.
He coughed. ‘Who did he speak to? All three of you?’
‘Good, your mind’s working. He spoke to Leo and me. Victor was at the gym and we haven’t told him yet. I thought we might leave him out of things at this stage.’
‘How did Leo take it?’
‘How do you expect? He’s in a stew, now he’s had time to think about it. He wants to bring in some of his hood friends to guard the place.’
Bax sighed, visualising the carnage. ‘Think he’ll tell Victor?’
‘I talked long and hard and persuaded him not to. I said we’d deal with it. But he’s unreliable, easily swayed by Victor.’
‘Ten thousand bucks,’ Bax mused. ‘When does Napper want to meet you again?’
‘Wednesday. Neutral ground, he said. He’ll let us know.’
‘I’ll check him out for you.’
Stella stood close to him, touched his arm. Sunlight spangled her hair, her dress, the water in the river. ‘I was counting on you to warn him off, beat him up or something. Tell him this is an undercover operation he’s walked in on. At least come to the meeting and help us negotiate.’
Bax put plenty of expression into his face and voice. He held her arms, leaned forward, kissed her briefly. ‘Sweetheart, I can’t. I can’t risk upsetting another cop, or revealing that I’m linked in any way. All he has to do is drop a quiet word in the right ears and I’m done for, {and you with me.’
Stella jerked free and stepped away, her shoes tearing a clump of onionweed. He could smell it, and the river’s staleness. He was back at the beginning with her. She was sharp and angry when she said, ‘So we fork out ten thousand dollars and he gets away with it, leaving me with a lot of hassles and you in the clear. Is that what you’re saying?’
Putting his mind to it, keeping his voice low, his hands to himself, Bax said softly, ‘There’s a way around this. I know how we can beat this cop.’
She watched him, her head cocked.
He went on, turning the force of his eyes on her: ‘Trust me, Stel.’
Bax had been told that he had liquid eyes. Her shoulders shifted uncertainly. He reached for her hand. ‘You know I’m good at this sort of thing. Trust me.’
It was win or lose. In a moment she sighed and Bax saw that he had won again.
Twenty-seven
The first planning session in Melbourne was set for five o’clock on Monday afternoon. The Outfit had a town-house on permanent lease in a building on the fringe of the city. To get to it Wyatt and Jardine walked across Treasury Gardens from the Parliament underground railway station. The walk across the park was Jardine’s idea. ‘It’s been years,’ he said, turning his face to take in leaf canopies and shafts of sunlight. He pointed to trees and named them. Wyatt went along with it, making assenting noises in the right places, automatically watching for a tail.
‘Florida,’ Jardine said, as they waited to cross the road. He meant the Outfit building, its low lines, jagged roof-line, green facade, blue doors and window frames. Blue U-shaped pipes had been bolted to various parts of the walls; larger blue pipes were ranged along the footpath like candy hitching rails. They served no useful purpose. ‘Like something out of “Miami Vice”,’ Jardine said. Wyatt had no idea what he was talking about.
They paused outside the front door of the building. It was the sort of place that employed doormen between 7 am and midnight. Wyatt pressed a buzzer and watched a man in an ill-fitting uniform put his face to a microphone. A speaker scratched into life near the buzzer. ‘Help you gents?’
‘We’re here to see Mr Towns,’ Wyatt said. ‘Second floor.’
The doorman ran his finger down a page. Wyatt saw the man’s lips move, saw him nod, and a second later the electric lock disengaged and they were in.
They took the elevator. It opened on to a short hallway. There was only one door. Wyatt knocked and Towns showed them into a long, low room thickly carpeted and painted in shades of yellow. There were black leather armchairs and two other men unfolded from them as Wyatt and Jardine stepped into the room.
Wyatt knew Towns, knew how the man thought, so he ignored him. He didn’t know the other two. He gauged each one carefully. The younger man, introduced by Towns as Drew, wore a black, grey-flecked suit, grey shirt and red bow tie. He was about thirty, almost bald, and Wyatt thought he had the soft hands and hungry face of a man used to working white-collar scams. ‘Drew is our accountant,’ Towns said, as if to confirm Wyatt’s guess.
The other man belonged on the grimy streets. He might have been the brother of the bodybuilder who had tried to stop Wyatt in the Carlton alley. About twenty-five, big jawed, his hair tight and black, he was an impassive man with plenty of strength and grace about him-and menace. ‘This is Hami,’ Towns said. He didn’t say what Hami did. New Zealand muscle, Wyatt thought, letting the big man squeeze his hand, throw him a challenge.
‘Sit down,’ Towns said. ‘Coffee’s almost ready.’
Wyatt thought about the Outfit lineup. Towns would do the negotiating with the Mesics; Drew would look at their accounting; Hami would provide the muscle if it came to that. ‘Just you three?’
The man called Drew said, ‘Think we need more?’
It was a nasally voice riddled with sullenness, so Wyatt took another long look at him. Drew had a face driven by ambition and petty resentments. Perhaps he wanted to be where Towns was, but Towns was smart and would live a long time.
Wyatt said, ‘I don’t want you springing fresh faces on me over the next few days, that’s all.’
‘Just us,’ Towns said.
But the man called Drew wasn’t satisfied. ‘What about you? I don’t exactly see a commando team here. You mean to tell me you and your mate are going in alone?’
‘We don’t need an army,’ Wyatt said.
Wyatt had rules and he rarely took on jobs that broke too many of them. Any job involving more than five people was too messy. Any job set up by amateurs or strangers had too many question marks hanging over it. Anything that smacked of Hollywood special effects he left to the dreamers. And he rarely took a job on consignment. He preferred to leave a place with money that went into his pocket and no one else’s.
‘Just two of us,’ he said. ‘Clean, quick and silent.’
Drew scoffed. ‘Alarms, guards, dogs.’
‘I’ve seen where they live. I’m telling you I don’t need an army.’
‘What about equipment? I suppose you want us to supply everything?’
‘Just a bankroll,’ Jardine said. ‘Someone else is doing the shopping for us.’
Towns interrupted. ‘Drew, let him do his job, okay? We’ll do ours.’
The bald accountant shrugged. ‘Sure. Let’s hear what the expert has to say.’
Wyatt knew that he had to keep Drew happy. He had to keep them all happy. He nodded gratefully at Towns and began to describe the job, letting his gaze rest on everyone in turn, making them feel a part of it.
‘The Mesic compound occupies a couple of acres. There are two houses and a security fence. As far as I can tell, there are no guards, no dogs, no servants, just the two Mesic brothers and the wife of one of them.’
Drew was looking at the floor and shaking his head. Hami spoke for the first time. ‘How are you getting in?’
‘Good question,’ Wyatt said, looking at him frankly. ‘I’d rather go in without a fuss-no alarms, no damage- which means through the front gate. But until we know their movements, we can’t decide that. Jardine and I will watch the place for the next few days, rotating shifts, noting who goes where, and when, in which cars, noting when lights go off and on and in which rooms, the usual thing. If possible we’ll hijack one of the cars and get in that way, which may mean going in a day or a few hours in advance. If that doesn’t work, we’ll go through the fence somehow.’
‘That’s their problem, Hami, not ours,’ Drew said, giving Hami a look that said he was hired help and should keep his trap shut.