He picked up the phone. ‘Ken, old son,’ he said, punching the number for Bargain City, ‘you’re in deep shit.’
Twenty
Ivan was there in thirty minutes. He paused at the bedroom door, looked in horror at the bed, and said, ‘Jesus Christ, what did they do to the poor bugger?’
Ken Sala was lying on his side, a thin yellow nylon rope looped from his bound ankles to his neck. He was red-faced with effort, his face wet, his eyes popping. The rope was slowly strangling him and he was powerless to stop it happening.
Sugarfoot turned around. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got it under control. He’s going to answer a few questions, aren’t you, Kenny?’
‘Let him go, for fuck’s sake.’
‘How do you know he isn’t trying to rip us off? If he staged it himself, we’ll soon know.’
Ken Sala managed to gasp, ‘It wasn’t me. I’m not stupid. Two guys. Let me go.’
‘Let him go, Sugar’
Grumbling and sighing elaborately, Sugarfoot leaned over and began to pull at the knots. When he discovered that they were as tight as pebbles, he took out his knife. Ken Sala began to thrash about on the bed, grunting terribly. ‘Settle down,’ Sugarfoot said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
He cut through the rope. Ken Sala’s relief was palpable. For the next two minutes the only sounds in the room were the coughs and gasps as his breathing settled back to normal. He sat up weakly. ‘Honest,’ he said. ‘Two guys done me over.’
‘How much did they get?’ Ivan said.
‘Just over five thousand. I’ve got it written down somewhere.’
‘Describe them.’
‘One was on the heavy side, the other was thin, that’s all I can tell you.’
‘Faces?’
‘They had masks on. Them balaclava things.’
‘Not much to go on.’
‘Look, they knew who I was and everything. The fat one breathes lolly breath all over me and goes, “Where’s the cash, Ken?” ‘
Sugarfoot stiffened. He said involuntarily, ‘Hobba. I smelt it on him this afternoon.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Ivan said, his voice low and passionate. ‘This is all your fucking fault. Last week you fucked up Wyatt’s insurance job, today you go following him all over the place. I’d like to know how your mind works sometimes. What did you expect he’d do? Take it lying down? He’s telling me he can hit me where and when he likes.’
‘Bullshit. He’s bankrolling. He’s got a job on with Hobba.’
‘So? That doesn’t change the fact he nabbed five thousand bucks of the outfit’s money. What am I supposed to tell Bauer? “Sorry, the take’s a bit less this week.” Jesus, they already got their eye on me. This’ll convince them I’m holding out.’ He looked across at Ken Sala. ‘I’ll make up the difference myself. What Bauer and Sydney don’t know won’t hurt them. We’ll deal with Wyatt later.’
Sugarfoot shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
‘Just keep your trap shut,’ Ivan said. ‘Okay?’
Then he sat next to Ken Sala on the bed. He explained how none of this was Ken’s fault, and he, Ivan, would put it right, and Ken could go on as before, so long as he kept his trap shut, okay?
‘Okay,’ Ken Sala said.
He fingered his neck worriedly.
Twenty-one
Wyatt called Anna Reid at six o’clock and she said she had the polaroids, come around any time, and now they were in her lounge-room and she was riding him on the rug in front of her log fire, concentrating hard. He looked up at her face, the parted lips, the eyes staring as if hypnotised by the patterns in the rug. Now and then she came out of it, saw him and grinned, leaned over his face to give him a nipple or to let the line of his cheek and jaw brush her breasts left and right. Sometimes she clenched her face in a kind of fury, as if this were not enough and she wanted to consume him as well. She would bite, ride him quickly for a while, ease again.
‘This is what I’ve been thinking about,’ she said, ‘not the money’
In answer, Wyatt raised her a little with his hands and pushed up. She bent her head back. Then he rested and she lifted herself and they watched as she moved on him again.
When she pulled at his shoulder, he rolled with her. She backed along the rug, wanting him to follow. She climbed backwards into an armchair, Wyatt almost losing her, then flopped back, getting her breath, while he moved in her again.
She said, ‘I want to finish, yet I don’t want to.’
Wyatt gravely took both her hands and moved them down. She looked questioningly at him, then smiled slowly, and he watched her long fingers begin working, circling, pushing hard at herself. He was on the edge too so he watched her face, and when her eyes opened in a kind of sorrow he let himself go.
The room was hot. They were perspiring. Wyatt, arms locked to support his weight, looked down at Anna, who watched him drowsily, her face swollen, heavy-lidded. She blew air between her breasts and onto his chest and it felt like a cooling breeze.
After a while he pulled away and fell back onto the rug. It was an expensive rug and he seemed to sink into it. ‘I feel exposed up here,’ she said, lying down with him. A moment later Masher joined them, purring, coiling his furry back into Wyatt’s waist.
They slept. Later, stroking Anna’s arm, Wyatt asked, ‘Did anyone see you using the camera?’
She groaned and stirred. ‘Back to reality. No. I waited till they were away from the office.’
‘Did you get shots of every room?’
She put her head on his chest. When she answered, her voice seemed to amplify, to carry in his chest cavity. ‘Every room, the alarm system, the safe.’
Wyatt tried to see her face. He saw only her scalp through her hair. He flopped back again, looking around at the walls and ceiling, the paintings, the light fittings. She had expensive tastes.
Soon he felt restless. Anna was looking down the slope of his body, tracing its hard, muscle-corded surface with her hand, but he’d begun to think about the job he had planned with Pedersen later this evening, and about the Finn job itself. He looked at his watch. Seven-fifteen. He shifted slightly, disturbing Masher, who stretched and shuddered and began to purr again.
Anna sensed the change in Wyatt and pulled away from him. ‘Are you going?’
‘Soon.’
‘I’ll get the photos.’
In a graceful single motion, she uncoiled from the floor and stood back from him. He got to his feet, watching her cross the room to where a leather bag had been placed on a small table. She had a lithe, unselfconscious style of walking. The red marks on her skin from his body and the carpet were oddly appealing and in other circumstances he would want her again.
She came back with a handful of polaroid shots of Finn’s office. He began to shuffle through them. He came to one that showed the safe and he stopped, thinking hard. He stood like a statue, staring into Anna’s fireplace without focusing on it, trying to work out the details.
She touched his arm. He seemed to jerk awake and she flinched a little at the look of coldness and distance on his face. ‘Whoops,’ she said.
He muttered something.
‘You were far away,’ she said.
He hated to be interrupted when he was concentrating on a job. He wanted to leave, go for a walk somewhere, find a quiet place where he could think. But that might offend her, so he started to say something reassuring. And then the answer to the Finn job came to him, quick and complete. A smile creased his face, transforming it.
‘Welcome back,’ Anna said, stepping close to him.
He watched her. She had the control now. This was what she was good at. Her head dipped and she moved down his body, nuzzling him. Later, when they were on her rug again and she was moving on him, she leaned forward to kiss him and he could taste both of them on her lips.
Her thighs began to pull at him as if measuring desire and anger. Her face was severe. ‘I didn’t expect any of this,’ she said.