Follow the Money

It's said that 'Gentleman' Jim Corbett was paralysed by Bob Fitzsimmons's punch that robbed him of his world heavyweight title. I'd never believed it but I did now. A kind of paralysis had made me useless back in the doorway of my house and something similar, but even more debilitating, was happening now. What's that noise? What's that smell? Why cant I see?

A light came on and I lifted my hands to shield my eyes from it. At least I could move and close my eyes. The noise stopped and I realised it had been music, coming from not so very far off. The light swung away and I opened my eyes. A man I recognised as Selim Houli was sitting opposite me about a metre away. He was smoking a cigar.

'Mr Hardy,' he said. 'How do you feel?'

I was in my shirtsleeves and I tried to scratch at my upper left arm where I felt a pain, but the restraints stopped me.

'Yes,' Houli said. 'A small injection to tranquillise you.'

For a second I wondered whether I still had the power of speech. As it came out my voice was a raw croak. 'I can put that on the list of the laws you've broken.'

He laughed and expelled aromatic smoke. 'Oh, that's a very long list indeed, depending on your point of view.'

I said nothing and concentrated on getting myself back together. Houli was obviously someone who liked to talk and talkers often do themselves much more harm than good. As my vision cleared I looked around the room. It was a sort of storage space with boxes and furniture stacked up. The two chairs we were sitting on had clearly been brought in for the purpose. I had a sense of it being below ground level. Nothing social went on down here normally.

Houli looked to be in his forties with thinning dark hair and a five o'clock shadow. He wore the suit I'd seen him in earlier at Bondi Junction with the jacket unbuttoned. White business shirt, discreetly striped silk tie, gold watch and a gold half-crown on one of his front teeth. He was olive-skinned with dark patches under his eyes. He flicked ash from the cigar onto the cement floor.

'You told Rosemary Malouf that you believed her husband was still alive.' 'Did I?'

'Don't be foolish, Mr Hardy. You're in a very dangerous position. I urge you to cooperate.'

'I'll do my best.'

'Have you seen Richard Malouf?'

I didn't answer.

'Have you spoken to anyone who has seen him?'

Not the best interrogative technique, showing that you want something quite badly. Unfortunately I had nothing to bargain with, except silence.

Houli sighed. He dropped his cigar to the floor and stepped on it. 'I can't tell whether that means yes or no. I need you to make it clear to me. How would you like to meet Yusef again?'

'If he's the guy who hit me, I would.' I held up my hands. 'Without these.'

'No.' He got up, crossed to the door and rapped on it. It opened and the young serious face I'd seen through the peephole was looking at me again. He wore jeans, work boots and a T-shirt with the short sleeves fully filled by biceps and triceps. Houli nodded to him and he walked over towards me. I started to stand but he kicked me in both shins-right boot to left shin, left boot to right shin.

The pain shot up my legs. A soccer player. I sat down hard.

'It's very simple for you,' Houli said. 'I asked you two questions and you will answer. You are a small man, Mr Hardy, and you have become involved in something much too big for you. I made it my business to find out a little about you. You've had some successes and some failures, would you agree?'

'Who hasn't?'

'I haven't had any failures and I don't intend to start having them.'

'Good luck.'

'Luck has nothing to do with it, but you're right if I understand you correctly. I am under a certain amount of pressure which is why you are under pressure now.'

I began to revise my opinion of him. He was a talker, but he was also intelligent and very dangerous. By admitting that he was under pressure he'd upped the wattage on his threat to me. People behave according to what's at stake and for Houli it was clearly something big.

I said nothing but closed my eyes as a wave of nausea hit me.

The leg pain warred for dominance with the deep ache higher up where Yusef had first hit me. The vile taste flooding my senses made me angry, not compliant. I ignored Yusef and stared at Houli thinking how much I'd like to displace his gold tooth. A blow to the left side of my face was followed by one to the other side. A searing pain went through my head and I was sure that an eardrum had broken, maybe both. I called them every obscene name I could think of and tried to stop my head from drooping.

Yusef hit me again several times and I kept my mouth shut. I could feel blood dripping somewhere. A low blow had me retching. I heard a click and saw Houli lighting a cigar and blowing on the tip to make it glow brightly. He moved closer and Yusef ripped my shirt open and then stepped back.

'Shit,' he said, 'he's had a heart operation. Any more could kill him, like-'

'Shut up,' Houli snapped. 'But you're right, we don't want that.' He puffed on the cigar, looked at it and shook his head. 'I don't think he knows anything useful anyway. He's just a dumb stubborn arsehole blundering about. Give him a jab, load him up with something, and dump him.'

They left the room and Yusef came back quickly with a plastic syringe in his hand. I tried to fend him off but he was too quick for me and I felt the needle sink into my upper arm. The room started to swirl around me and I heard myself giggling. Yusef hauled me up and dragged me across the room. I struggled, still laughing; my head hit the door and I blacked out.

I was staggering through an amusement park full of flashing lights and jangly music with the sounds of horns honking and people shouting and with the ground slipping sideways under my feet. I almost fell but got myself upright and lurched on. Something large, smelly and noisy brushed by me and I laughed at it and aimed a kick but it had gone. Then there were more people with pale, blurry faces and angry teeth. They parted in front of me, peeled off, and I felt as if I was riding a surfboard with the waves buffeting me, threatening my balance.

I bounced off something hard and then again off something soft. My head hurt. One ear felt as though a siren was blowing in it full bore. I put my hand up to it, but the noise just got louder and I started to swear and stagger as the pain hit me. I was cold; my chest was bare; I could feel a chill wind biting into me, and my shirt felt like a flapping rag.

Two figures loomed up in front of me and didn't move. Big things, blue things with hats. The hats looked funny and I laughed.

I said, 'Funny hats,' and swung a punch at one of the hats. I missed, lost balance and collapsed into what felt like a warm, hard embrace.

10

I didn't want to say it, but there was nothing else to say. ' Where am I?'

The woman in the white dress and cap and blue cardigan said, 'You're in St Vincent's Hospital, Mr…' she consulted her clipboard, '… Hardy.'

'How did I get here?'

'The police brought you in. Apparently you assaulted one of them, although how you could given the condition you were in is beyond me.'

My head throbbed and my body ached. 'What is my condition?'

She looked at the notes again. 'You have a perforated eardrum and multiple bruises and lacerations, some of them requiring stitches. There was some concern that your spleen might have been ruptured but that's uncertain at this point. Your blood pressure is very high.'

'I'm on medication for that but I haven't taken it for…' I felt my stubble. 'How long have I been here?'

'Thirty-six hours, give or take. There were various drugs in your system that had to be monitored. You were close to comatose when you were brought in. The doctors will be surprised at the speed of your recovery. Don't try to sit up!'

My attempt didn't amount to much and I was happy to settle back on the pillows. I was in a small room with the usual hospital fittings. A television set was mounted on the wall at an inconvenient angle and elevation. There was a cannula in my right hand, a drip hanging from a stand beside the bed. It all reminded me of when I'd had the bypass, but with fewer tubes in and out.