Plenty of time.
But the drugs. Hobba apparently didn’t have them, because Bauer wouldn’t still be looking for them. That meant Pedersen had them. Given his habit, his contacts, that made sense.
Wyatt said, ‘Who are you working for?’
No answer. He tapped his Browning against the shattered elbow again. But the rattling breathing had stopped and there was no response.
Wyatt got to his feet. Hobba and Pedersen must have made a snap decision, he thought, in those seconds when they realised they also had drugs in the safe. Pedersen had the know-how and the connections; both of them knew Wyatt wouldn’t be in on it.
They might have got away with it if Sugarfoot Younger hadn’t blundered in. Wyatt followed this train: perhaps the Youngers tried to sell information to Finn, not knowing what they were getting into. If Ivan was dead, Sugarfoot was too.
Not that any of that mattered. He had to get Anna away from the safe house.
He left Bauer and made his way back to the Falcon. The wound in his side was beginning to ache dully. He tried to imagine Pedersen’s state-popping pills, getting agitated as he wondered what Wyatt was doing and what he might find out. He’d be dangerous tackled in the safe house. Anna could get hurt or killed-assuming he hadn’t killed her already. The answer was to lure him out.
It took Wyatt fifteen minutes to cross the city. The traffic was heavy and bad-tempered, and cars on the prowl choked the nightclub end of King Street.
On Queens Road he stopped outside a public telephone. He dialled, and when Anna answered, relief flooded him, surprising him with its intensity. He said, ‘I want you to be neutral when you reply to what I say now. Do you understand?’
A wary ‘Yes.’
‘Is Pedersen still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has he been taking anything? Is he hyped-up?’
‘Yes.’
‘He might try something. If he does, shoot him.’
‘I see.’
‘I’ll explain later. Meanwhile I want to speak to him.’
The phone clattered onto a hard surface and he heard Anna say, ‘Wyatt wants to talk to you.’
Pedersen came on a moment later. ‘Is Hobba okay?’
Wyatt wasn’t surprised to hear Pedersen lead with this question. He said, ‘He’s dead.’
Pedersen seemed to explode. ‘What about Sugarfoot? Haven’t you got the bastard yet?’
‘It’s all taken care of.’
The relief was palpable. ‘Thank Christ for that. So it’s over.’
‘We can all go home,’ Wyatt agreed. ‘Except Anna. Tell her to wait there for me. There’s a body in her house.’
He cut the connection, drove to a shadowy area between street lights a hundred metres from the safe house, and waited for Pedersen to come out.
Forty-Two
All the doors and windows of Finn’s law offices in Quiller Place were locked but light showed faintly in an office at the side of the old house. Wyatt decided to wait. If he forced his way in now, he’d lose the advantage. And alert the old people of the street, blinking in the darkness as they waited through the long night for sleep or death to claim them.
The black Volkswagen was angled carelessly in the driveway. The driver’s door hadn’t been locked. Wyatt climbed into the space behind the front seat to wait. He moved stiffly. His clothes were a sodden wad at his waist.
It didn’t take long. He heard the expensive lock click home on the front door of the building, heard approaching footsteps, saw a shape materialise next to the car. The door opened and a bag was flung onto the passenger seat. Then the car shifted gently on its springs as Anna Reid got in and Wyatt sat up behind her and pressed his Browning to her ear.
She stiffened. A moment later she said his name. She didn’t turn around.
‘Both hands on the wheel,’ Wyatt said. ‘Where’s the gun I gave you?’
‘In my coat.’
‘Right pocket?’
‘Yes.’
‘Reach across with your left hand. Take it out by the barrel and drop it in the bag.’
He watched her closely. For the few seconds her hand was out of sight he ground the Browning against the hinge of her jaw.
She dropped the gun. ‘How did you know?’
Wyatt was silent. Then he said, ‘Let’s start with the safe. You removed the drugs when Finn went out for coffee on Friday afternoon?’
She laughed harshly. ‘Is this a grilling?’ She took one hand from the wheel and gestured with it. ‘Come with me, Wyatt. The stuff in that bag is worth a fortune.’
Wyatt beat the gun barrel against her cheek. ‘Both hands on the wheel. Answer the question.’
She sighed elaborately. ‘When he went for coffee, yes. Just before you hit the place.’
‘You knew the combination of his safe?’
‘I’ve always known it. When I first came here, before he started dealing, I found it written down on the side of his desk drawer one day’
It was plausible. Pedersen himself liked to say that most ‘unexplained’ safecracking could be traced to people leaving the combination lying around.
She turned her head slightly. ‘It wasn’t play-acting, you know, me with you.’
‘Forget that,’ Wyatt said. ‘You left the cash in the safe and hid,’ pointing his gun at the bag on the seat beside her, ‘that crap in your office?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where?’
‘Can’t we do this somewhere more comfortable?’
‘Answer.’
‘I bet you were anal retentive. Under the tiles in the fireplace. What does it matter where?’
‘You had to leave it there in case the police searched your place.’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you know when to do the job?’
She breathed in and out heavily. ‘Is this all necessary? Let’s get it over and done with, whatever it is.’
Wyatt ground the barrel against her jaw again. ‘Just answer.’
‘You’re hurting me.’ When the pressure didn’t relax she went on. ‘When I realised Finn was distributing, I started watching until I’d worked out the pattern. The stuff would arrive late in the week and all the yuppie dealers in South Yarra would buy from him on the weekends. So I waited until there was a big planning kickback there at the same time.’
A taxi entered Quiller Place and drove slowly down it, the driver shining a spotlight at house numbers. Wyatt pressed the gun warningly against Anna Reid’s temple and waited while the taxi stopped and bipped its horn and collected a home-care nurse from one of the houses.
When it was gone, he said, ‘You didn’t want to risk stealing from him directly. Robbing the safe was a smokescreen.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you just run with the stuff that night?’
‘I never intended to run with it. I’ve got a long-term plan. I’m going to sell it all slowly, on the quiet.’
Wyatt said nothing. The pieces kept falling into different patterns. ‘Tell me about Pedersen,’ he said.
‘What about him?’
‘Was he going to do the selling?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s not involved. I just needed his talents.’
Wyatt went cold. This had never been his job, his plan. It had always been hers. ‘You were taking a risk,’ he said. ‘You caused heat for all of us. The sort of people Finn distributes for don’t rest when something like this happens.’
Neither spoke for some time. Then Anna said, ‘You told Max there was a dead man at my place.’
‘There is, but I said it to flush out Pedersen. I thought he was behind it.’
‘And I came out instead,’ Anna said, nodding her head, her glossy hair sliding apart on either side of the pistol barrel. ‘Who is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s a professional called Bauer. A hit-man, somebody who worked for whoever runs Finn.’
She shivered. ‘So your friend Sugarfoot is still out there?’
‘I doubt it. I think both Youngers are dead. They gave Bauer some names, Bauer tortured Hobba, got your name, and came looking.’
She turned her head a fraction. ‘Tortured?’
Wyatt said, ‘This isn’t Playschool.’
He saw Anna stiffen. ‘Finn will know about me by now.’
Wyatt said bleakly, ‘I wouldn’t worry your pretty head about it. Bauer killed him too. These people get rid of their liabilities.’