‘Two houses?’ Towns said. ‘How will you find your way around?’
‘I know where to get plans for the property.’
‘Okay,’ Drew said, ‘suppose you’re in, no hassles. Where does that leave us-sitting back until all the blood’s been spilt?’
Towns said, ‘There won’t be any blood.’
Wyatt turned his attention to the Outfit boss. Towns had the manner of an old-style professional, low key, methodical. The voice was mild; there was no challenge, squaring off or warning in it, no arrogance, just the facts.
‘In and out with a minimum of fuss,’ Wyatt agreed. ‘We’ll cuff the Mesics together in one room. Jardine will blow the safe, we’ll empty it and a few drawers, and clear out, leaving you the Mesics. What you say or do to them is your business.’
‘I don’t trust you,’ Drew said. ‘How do we know you won’t have their files, accounts, names and addresses under your arm?’ He looked at Towns. ‘We should go in with them.’
Towns was clearly irritated with the younger man. ‘Our friends just want cash. If it’s a trap, if things go wrong in some way, they cop the flack, not us. When we get the signal that it’s all clear, we go in, knowing they’ve done all the dirty work and taken most of the risks. Okay?’
‘What sort of signal?’
‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ Jardine said, ‘a light in a window, a flashing torch, a mobile phone, whatever you like.’
‘He can speak, can he?’ Drew sniped.
Towns put up a hand. ‘Everyone settle down.’
Hami growled softly, ‘Evening, when they’re winding down for the day, had a few relaxing drinks.’
Wyatt nodded. ‘Yes. I don’t want to do it in daylight and risk being seen. I don’t want to do it when they’re in bed, spooked by strange noises. If they’re still up, still awake, noises in the house won’t bother them so much.’
There was silence while they took that in. Then Drew said, still finding holes, ‘How are you getting there, how are you getting away?’
‘We’ll steal a government vehicle from a depot,’ Jardine said. ‘It won’t be missed overnight, if at all, and it won’t look out of place on the street.’
Drew looked at Wyatt. ‘Sounds like you boys have been holed up somewhere, putting your job together.’
Wyatt nodded, knowing what was coming next.
‘Can you give us an address, a number? In case we need to get in touch?’
Wyatt simply stared at the Outfit’s paper shuffler. He was staying with Jardine in a small house in Northcote. Jardine was a man who had uncles and cousins and it was a family that didn’t ask questions.
The silence lengthened, a stony neutrality on Wyatt’s face. Finally Drew said, ‘Suit yourself. Just don’t mess up afterwards, that’s all. Anyone can plan a job, pull it off-it’s avoiding the cops, keeping a low profile, where most crims come unstuck.’
‘You’re forgetting one thing,’ Wyatt said. ‘We’re robbing robbers this time. There won’t be any cops. It’s not cops I have to worry about, it’s people like you.’
Twenty-eight
Napper rolled off her and flung himself onto the carpet. Eileen had been with him three times now and knew to expect nothing better. She poked his chest. ‘I feel cold.’
Making a performance of it, he rolled over onto his knees and turned on the heater. It was a narrow electric thing with fake coals glowing in a fake grate. A smell of burning dust spread through the room.
‘I’d like a blanket,’ Eileen said.
Napper planted a smacking kiss on her neck. ‘For you, anything.’ He turned it into a song, crossing the room naked and bulbous, singing, ‘Anything at all, doo doo doo, anything at all.’ At least he was singing now. When he let her in the door an hour ago he’d been tense and snappy with her, as if something had been getting to him.
The blanket he returned with was crusted with stains she didn’t want to think about. Her skin cringed, but rather than offend him she drew it around her shoulders and sat cross-legged looking into his cheap, nasty fire. ‘What’s the story on Niall? He’s been in five days now.’
‘Yes, thanks Mrs R, the sex was fantastic for me too.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic. Just tell me.’
‘These things take time, Eileen.’
‘It’s all been one-way so far, Napper. I’ve given you Wyatt, you’ve had three fucks off me, and for what? I want my boy out.’
Napper hefted her left breast in one hand. ‘Perfection. Look, what’s your rush? You weren’t exactly complaining just now.’
Inside, she’d been cringing just now. ‘I’m not expecting miracles, I’d just like some idea.’
Napper grinned at her, got up, and crossed the room again. As she watched, he lowered his white behind and dangling genitals into the squashy vinyl beanbag chair, the sight and sound of it carnal and ripe, and flipped open the clasps of a cheap briefcase. He removed a folded document, waved it at her, and rolled sideways out of the clammy embrace of the chair. When he came back he stood and probed her shoulder with a knee. She looked up, the pungent centre of him just centimetres from her face, and took the document. ‘Release notice,’ Napper said, the knee pressed hard against her. ‘Just waiting for my signature.’
Eileen drew her shoulders in and leaned over the stapled sheets. Niall was committed for trial early in the new year; meanwhile, though, he would be released on bail. She muttered.
‘Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that?’
‘Thanks.’
Napper slithered down under the blanket with her. She wondered why it always had to be the floor. Maybe the bed was sacred for his girlfriend. Maybe the floor was dirt, she was dirt, and he liked to wallow now and then. After a while he wanted to see what she looked like from behind. She got on to her hands and knees, drawing comfort from the sensation of her large belly and breasts swinging free beneath her, and let him peer and poke. She blamed Ross for all this. He’d made no effort to help their son. ‘You’re a good-looking woman,’ Napper said as he began to thump against her.
Eileen knew that Niall had a second crossbow hidden away in his room somewhere. God, she’d give anything to shoot Napper with it, right this minute. When the fat policeman was finished with her she huddled, leaking, under the blanket before the fire while he plugged in the electric kettle. He came back with two cups of weak Maxwell House. ‘So Wyatt was worth trading my son for?’ she said.
Napper got a kick out of talking police work. His mouth became a thin slash in his heavy face. ‘Did some homework on him.’
‘And?’
‘It’s mostly rumour, he’s never been caught, but he’s hard all right.’
‘I told you that. What did you learn about him?’
Napper started to count on his fingers. They were short, blunt fingers, the nails bitten back to the quick. ‘One, he’s an old-style crim. He specialises in armed robbery. Two, he puts a team together for each job, he doesn’t work for anybody. Three, apparently some crowd in Sydney wants him dead, he poked his nose in where it wasn’t welcome. Sound pretty right so far?’
Eileen said, ‘I told you all that.’
‘I had to be sure.’
This Napper wasn’t very bright. ‘Don’t underestimate Wyatt,’ Eileen said. ‘He’s hard. My old man reckons he’s hard. He’s been known to kill if he’s crossed or cornered or provoked.’
‘Yeah, sure. What else does your old man say?’
Eileen had been over all this before. She wondered if Napper had a short attention span, or took a while to grasp things. ‘He’s single-minded. You can’t get at him through his family because as far as anyone knows he hasn’t got one. If there’s a woman, no one knows about it.’
‘How did he get started?’
Eileen remembered an old story of Rossiter’s. She didn’t know how true it was. ‘He started ripping off stuff in the army. Equipment, a payroll.’
Napper looked away, concentrating, putting together a profile of a man who had skills and compulsion and hadn’t been stopped. It amused Eileen to see the policeman disconcerted. She rocked playfully against him. ‘So, does he sound like someone who’ll hit the Mesics?’
Napper jerked his shoulders away. ‘Fuck off.’ He looked at her. ‘It’s not his style. He’s never been known to hit other crooks.’