‘Say he gets back at dawn’, he said. ‘When’s that down here, with your godless daylight saving?’
‘About five.’
‘Say, three hours to wait, bit less. I can wait that long for half a million bucks. Couldn’t you, Hardy?’
‘I’m never likely to get the chance.’
‘That’s right. You’re not. Did you enjoy hitting Liam with the bottle?’
‘Not really. A bit, I suppose.’
‘You should’ve enjoyed it a lot! And not given a bugger at the same time. That’s what being hard is all about.’
‘Psychology, now.’
‘We had lectures. Most of the dead-heads didn’t get anything out of them. I did.’
I didn’t have anything to say to that. We walked back along the jetty across the grass to the house.
Inside, Hayes undid his top collar-button and loosened his tie. He motioned at me to sit on the floor and he lowered himself into the easy chair.
‘I’m tired’, he said. ‘I’m bloody tired, but I can’t afford to drop off. I’ve learned a few tricks in my time-know the most important?’
I shook my head.
‘Don’t drink at the wrong time. I’d love a drink; and did you see all that good stuff he’s got out there?’
‘Yeah, I saw it.’
‘I’ll have one after he’s dead. At the right time.’
‘Like Jackie Gleason?’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Jackie Gleason, in a movie called The Hustler. He plays this pool champ called Minnesota Fats, has a big game with Paul Newman. Newman gets pissed when he’s ahead; Gleason doesn’t drink, washes up in the break and creams him. Jackie Gleason’s fatter than you, but you’re getting there-six months of the good life should do it.’
‘We’ll see. I hope you don’t think of yourself as Paul-fucking-Newman?’
‘No.’
‘That’s good. Know another little trick? Keep talking when you’re tired. Keep your company talking You’re doing fine, Hardy. Keep talking. You’re a great talker, aren’t you?’
‘I’m a fair talker. Why did you bring Catchpole and his crowd into this?’
‘Useful. Dottie was supposed to get a girl for Ray. Ended up doing the job herself. She tried to get him to talk about Collinson, his real father.’
‘How did that go?’
‘Not good. Very cagey. He said he’d come across with things, like that photo. We told him we’d help him to locate his old man. ‘Course, it was the other way around. Liam’s got contacts in the New South Wales force, more than people realise. He did a bit of this and a bit of that. My turn-why d’you do this shit-kicking kind of work?’
‘It’s not bad. Bit dull at times.’
‘Not dull now, eh?’
‘No.’
‘You reckon you’re going to survive this?’
I didn’t like the way the talk was going; he was playing with me and I felt clumsy-witted. The chance of getting him off-balance seemed remote.
‘Well, do you?’
‘I don’t know’, I said. ‘You tell me.’
He yawned. ‘Depends how it goes.’
‘How else can it go? You said yourself you could shoot a man’s ear off at that range and in those conditions. If he comes, he’s dead, isn’t he?’
He almost grinned. ‘He might have a gun-like you.’
‘What?’
He made the pseudo-laughing noise again. This time it sounded like the gurgling mud outside. ‘I saw you get it from the car. Saw you switch it to your pocket. But you didn’t have the guts to use it, did you?’
‘Biding my time.’
‘Well you waited too long, sonny Jim. Just ease it out slowly, put it on the floor, and give it a kick over here.’
I did what he said, and I had the odd sensation that my body temperature had dropped when I surrendered the gun. I shivered, although it wasn’t cold; my throat was dry and it closed on me when I tried to speak. The fear was back.
‘What was that again?’ His voice was full of mock concern and politeness.
‘Why’d you wait so long to get the gun, Hayes?’
‘Just having fun.’
‘That’s not professional.’
‘Well, in fact I figured you’d play along more if you thought you had an edge. It worked.’
We sat in silence for a while, then he shifted in his chair.
‘Know the best way to stay awake when you’re tired, Hardy?’
‘No.’
‘Concentrate on your bladder. Tell yourself you need a piss. Pretty soon you will. That gives you something to think about. You don’t have the piss and you stay awake.’
‘I could do with a piss right now.’
‘Me too. But you can have one. Get up!’
I climbed off the floor and we went back to the toilet which was off the kitchen. I pissed, zipped up and when I turned around he had a couple of lengths of light rope in his hand.
‘Right, Hardy. Into the bedroom. We’re going to wrap you up for a while.’
He instructed me to get on the bed; he tossed me one of the pieces of rope and supervised me while I tied up my legs. Then he tied my hands behind me, and tightened up the knots all round, like a man tightening the wheel nuts on a car.
‘Why?’ I said.
‘Who knows? Hostage maybe. I keep my options open. Goodbye, Hardy.’
He clicked off the night-light, and closed the door.
20
Lying there on the bed in the darkness, head down and arse up, the Chesterton quotation, or something of it, came into my head-to do with fucking: ‘the position is ridiculous, the expense damnable’. I used to think it was funny, but it didn’t seem so funny anymore.
By cranking my neck around and lifting my head, I could just get a look out a window where a holland blind ended a fraction above the sill. It was still very dark out and I wasn’t anxious for it to get light. After a while the birds started up in the trees-incongruously happy chirpings. I cranked and lifted again, but it still wasn’t dawn or even pre-dawn. My arms quickly got cramped and sore, and the split skin on my ear was throbbing. I wondered whether it really had been a lack of guts that had kept me from trying to use the gun on Hayes, or was it an instinct for survival. Or were they both the same thing?
The door opened; I felt the wind of it rather than heard any noise. I went tense and my jaw clamped tight. So did my eyes, and the back of my neck tingled. I couldn’t see why he’d get impatient and do it now, but who could tell how a Queensland cop turned hit-man, who’d killed eight people, was likely to think? I expected to hear a noise; I hoped that’d be all.
‘Hardy! Hardy!’ The voice was Frank Parker’s, but it sounded sweeter than Cleo Laine.
I grunted something unintelligible even to me.
‘Lie still’, he whispered..’And for Christ’s sake, don’t fall off the bed when you’re loose.’
He undid the knots and I rolled over and sat up. Parker was wearing one of my denim shirts and dark pants. He’d daubed something on his face to cut down on skin shine at night. Christ, I can see him, I thought. It must be getting light. I strained my ears but couldn’t pick up any boat noise.
‘How?’ I said.
‘I watched your place most of the day. Thought Catchpole’d show up. I got the word to him that you lifted Tiny.’
‘Thanks! You’re a ruthless bastard, Frank.’
‘Worked, didn’t it? I wasn’t expecting Hayes to come into the bag. Is this place what I think it is?’
‘It’s Collinson’s bolthole.’
‘Uh huh. Where’s “Bully”?’
‘Christ, you don’t know?’
‘No. I lay low for a while trying to work out what was going on-saw out the front and decided to nip in to get you out. Where is he?”
‘He’s out in the scrub, waiting for Collinson who should be coming over the horizon in a boat pretty soon.’ I scratched at my own cheek. ‘What’s this, bit of drama?’
‘Yeah. Do you want your gun?’