Their situation brought films to mind. They all had to shuffle and reposition themselves until Amber was on her side, stretching out to plug the phone lead back into the wall socket. Then she pulled the telephone off the desk. She was about to press the buttons when she froze, giggling nervously. ‘I don’t know the number,’ she said. ‘Is it 999?’
‘I think it’s 000,’ Anna Reid said. ‘Or 11444 if you want to get straight through to D24.’
Finn let them play at this. All the time, his mind was racing, anticipating the police questions, the media questions, wondering how, when everyone had gone home, he’d explain this to Bauer, wondering how Bauer could stop the damage going any further.
Thirty
Sugarfoot didn’t get as far as the weather news this time. His attention was caught by one of the lead stories, about an armed hold-up in South Yarra, three men, and how the getaway van was driven so dangerously a dog was killed.
It wasn’t much, but the details fitted: the location, the three armed men. He turned off the television set and started dial hunting on the radio. By eight o’clock he had more information: the actual street, and a name, a lawyer called Finn.
You had to have a strategy. He collected his Melways street directory from the Customline, took it back to his room and began to assemble what he knew. Using scraps of paper, he marked the location of the lawyer’s office and where Hobba, Pedersen and Rossiter lived.
He sat back. Where should he start? He’d sort of come full circle in his thinking. A few days ago he wanted a piece of Wyatt’s action. Since Tuesday, all he’d wanted was to get even. Now he felt more on track, wanting a cut and wanting to get even.
Thinking about it, why not set up a deal? Go to one of them and say. fifty-fifty or I talk. Sixty-forty maybe.
Or take a cut and then drop word where the cops will hear it. Let the cops take care of the revenge angle.
Better still, take a cut now and hit them one by one-weeks, months, later, when they’re least expecting it.
He’d better hit now, though, before any of them had time to consolidate or slip away or spend the money.
But when Sugarfoot staked out Hobba’s flat and Pedersen’s house again, it was as if nothing had changed since Tuesday. Still no-one was at home. Still there were newspapers on Pedersen’s welcome mat-a total of four now.
If they didn’t show up tomorrow, he didn’t know what he’d do.
When he got home, Tina had a message for him. ‘Your brother’s trying to get hold of you. He’s rung four times already. I told him you were out, but he just keeps ringing.’
‘I’ll call him.’
‘I mean, I’m trying to do my chart,’ Tina said.
Ivan answered on the first ring. ‘Younger.’
‘It’s me,’ Sugarfoot said.
‘Thank Christ for that.’ Ivan sounded panicky. ‘Bauer called me earlier. Someone hit one of the outfit’s operations this afternoon and he wants us to start putting the word out on the street. Ten thousand bucks to anyone who can give him a lead.’
‘What was it?’
‘It’s on the news. Some lawyer got done over in South Yarra. That’s all I know. I didn’t ask questions.’
It made Sugarfoot feel good hearing Ivan fall apart like this. He said calmly, ‘You’re putting two and two together, right?’
‘Sugar, listen, I know you’ve got it in for Wyatt, but just let it rest, okay? No heroics. No getting tempted. If Bauer finds out Wyatt hit Ken Sala as well, we’re stuffed.’
‘Whatever you say,’ Sugarfoot said.
Thirty-one
Wyatt woke early on Saturday morning, feeling sharp and well. He showered, packed his things together and stood at the kitchen bench to eat toast and drink coffee. Pedersen was sprawled on the couch, asleep, and Wyatt could hear the snores of Hobba in the second bedroom. He looked at his watch: seven-thirty. At eight o’clock Anna Reid was coming by to collect her share of the three hundred thousand dollars. Then they would drive to his place on the coast. At five minutes to eight he was waiting for her in the foyer of the safe house.
Her black Volkswagen pulled up outside just after eight o’clock. He didn’t leave the building but watched the car and the street. When he was satisfied that she was alone he went out to the car. She saw him, smiled, and slipped across to the passenger seat, saying, ‘You know the way.’ He stashed his bags on the back seat, got in behind the wheel, kissed her and started the engine.
He didn’t speak until they were through St Kilda junction. He said, ‘Any problems with the cops about going away for the weekend?’
‘I just told them I felt upset but I’d be back at work on Monday.’
Wyatt nodded. ‘You might like to look in the black bag.’
She smiled and reached around behind him. He heard her draw open the zip and then she was waggling a wad of hundred-dollar notes under his nose. ‘All mine?’
He nodded. ‘What did the cops say?’
‘A professional job.’
‘What else?’
‘They were puzzled, wanting to know what Finn had in the safe that was so valuable.’
‘They questioned you separately?’
She nodded. ‘We were split up as soon as the doctor said it was okay.’
‘Doctor?’
‘Just routine. They thought we might need attention.’
‘What about later? Did you talk about it with the others?’
Anna moved closer to him, putting her hand on his thigh. ‘We sent Amber and the client home. Finn was a bit embarrassed. He said he assumed I knew about his planning permission deals. Told me there was a large settlement in the safe that he couldn’t tell the police about.’
‘So how did he explain it to them?’
‘Said he had cheques, bonds, share certificates, odds and ends like that, some his, some his clients’. Ten thousand dollars worth, covered by insurance.’
‘Were they satisfied with that?’
‘Seemed to be. A detective asked me didn’t I think it was well planned-the robbers knew the layout, had guns, disguises, a disguised vehicle.’
‘What did you say’
‘I told him it seemed to be. He asked me about Finn’s clients. I said we worked separately, I didn’t know them.’
Wyatt said, ‘With any luck they’ll concentrate on Finn.’
They fell silent. The traffic was heavy through Frankston, Mornington and Mt Martha, and for a while Wyatt forgot about Anna. He found himself absorbed with his driving, braking often, alert for mulish families and weekend farmers who were fleeing the city in four-wheel-drives, hauling horse floats and boat trailers behind them. They scared him. The village atmosphere was long gone from this part of the bay. Mansions in the form of Californian funeral homes competed for advantage on the cleared slopes leading to the beaches. Here worth was measured by sundeck area, pool size, garage capacity. All along the coast, real estate agencies outnumbered milk-bars by four to one, and the councillors rubbed their gym-tanned hands together, knowing the cost of everything and the value of nothing. Eventually, in frustration, he turned off and took back roads to Shoreham.
It was cold at the cottage. While Anna explored the house, the sheds and the garden, he chopped firewood, stacked the logs on the lounge-room hearth and lit a fire.
He was aware of smells-the splintery new wood, the sea, Anna Reid. His muscles ached agreeably. Soon they would make love, and then he would take her for a walk along the beach.
He thought how it might be. They would be occasional lovers and it wouldn’t go anywhere and that would suit both of them.
He wondered how dedicated she was to her job. The last few days had made her feel alive, she’d said. She could be useful to him. He had at least a dozen scams in mind that required a woman.
Meanwhile, he would hide his share of the money and next week begin the careful process of converting it. Some small deposits, some paintings, some shares and bonds.
He looked up as she entered the room. For once he wasn’t interested in taking his customary six months somewhere warm.