Master’s tired head jerked. ‘What? Lorrie hasn’t got a boat.’
‘She told me she has and you didn’t know about it. It’s called the
… some kind of red wine…’
‘Jesus,’ Master said. His pale eyes, red-rimmed now from fatigue and stress, went hard. ‘You’ve seen it? You’ve been on it… with her?’
I kept my eyes steady on his and a fist ready to fire in case he lost it completely. ‘Don’t be stupid. No. She just mentioned it early on, when I was getting the picture about you and her and all this.’
‘What does all this babble mean?’ O’Connor said as he slowed to join the traffic selecting lanes.
‘It means we’re headed for Watsons Bay,’ I said. ‘So make sure you get in the right lane.’
The marina and yacht club were located to the south of Camp Cove, putting them close to Vaucluse. That might have made it more expensive but around here it hardly mattered- a coffee could cost five bucks. O’Connor knew the way because he’d been there earlier in the day with Master when he failed to find Starcevich. Master had fallen quiet in the back and O’Connor was gaining in confidence by the minute.
‘He’s falling asleep,’ O’Connor whispered. ‘If I drive around for a few minute-’
‘Don’t even think it.’ Master could hardly say the words; it wasn’t much of a threat.
The marina had three jetties about twenty-five metres apart with moorings on both sides of each. The daylight was beginning to fade and most of the activity was of the pack-up-and-go kind. Boats again, I thought. I was beginning to hate the bloody things. ‘Where was Starcevich’s boat supposed to be?’
‘Jetty one,’ Master mumbled. ‘Ballina Belle.’
‘Have some more coffee and try to stay with it,’ I said. ‘I’m going to check something out.’
‘What the fuck’s wrong with me?’
‘O’Connor drugged you. Don’t hurt him unless you have to, just keep him here. Back in a minute.’
I got out and walked towards the marina office searching my memory for the name of Lorrie’s boat. Yalumba?. Penfold? Then it came to me- Merlot. The woman in the office looked about ready to call it a day but there were still a few people moving around. I had no idea what security was like at a marina, but I didn’t see any high gates or electronic equipment.
‘Excuse me, is Mrs Master’s yacht, the Merlot, around?’
‘Around? What do you mean around?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with boatspeak. Is it here?’
She pointed to jetty three. ‘She’s moored there.’
‘The thing is, Mrs Master’s thinking of selling it. I’ve got her lawyer here, a Mr O’Connor and the prospective buyer. I wonder if we could take a look at her?’
Suddenly her level of interest went up ten notches. ‘That poor woman. I helped her learn to sail. She caught on quick. Then there was that trial. I read all about it.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘O’Connor. That’s the name of the guy who defended her hubby, right?’
I nodded. ‘Right.’
‘I saw a photo of him. Fatty. He’s here?’
I pointed back to the BMW.
‘He didn’t do such a flash job. I’m surprised she has him as her lawyer.’
I shrugged. ‘They get their claws in. Can we look at the… yacht?’
‘I guess so.’
There was one more bridge to cross. ‘Thanks. I suppose you’ve been busy, nice day like this, long weekend coming up?’
‘Flat tacked. Haven’t lifted my head.’
So with any luck she didn’t know about Master’s escape. ‘Okay. Thank you. We’ll go and take a look.’
She tapped her watch. ‘I’m off in a few minutes. I’ll tell the night guy.’
‘Don’t bother,’ I said. ‘We won’t be long.’
I went back to the car, opened the rear door and helped Master to sit up. I relieved him of the guns and he didn’t protest. ‘You’re going to have to make an effort, Stewie,’ I said. ‘Just a short walk and then you can lie down and sleep and with any luck you’ll be safe.’
His pupils were pinpricks and his pulse was racing. I opened O’Connor’s briefcase, retrieved his mobile phone and handed it to him. Then O’Connor and I got Master on his feet and moving. Luckily, he was light and even two-thirds spaced he was coordinated enough to make it possible for two big men to support him.
‘What’re we doing?’ O’Connor hissed.
‘We’re getting him onto Lorrie’s boat. When we reach the office you give the woman in there a smile. She knows you.’
He did it and we manoeuvred Master along the jetty and down onto the deck of the Merlot. I used the picks attached to my Swiss army knife to pick the lock on the door leading to the boat’s saloon. Master was almost out to it by the time we got him comfortable. I could feel O’Connor getting ready to be the super-professional again and that was the last thing I wanted.
‘Take off his shoes,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘You heard. Do it.’
Doing the menial task deflated him a bit, especially as he made a mess of it.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘This is the way I see it. You’ve harboured an escaped criminal, driven him and drugged him. Your prints’ll be all over the packet, and what you could be doing with a supply of the date-rape drug I hate to think. Your reputation’s about to take a nose-dive.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I’m very serious. I can put you deep in the shit or keep you out of it altogether. It’s up to you.’
‘W-what do you want me to do?’
‘Simple. Just stay here with Master until I contact you.’
‘How long will that be?’
‘Hard to say. If Starcevich’s not there it’ll be a matter of minutes. If he is it’ll be longer.’
‘What’re you going to do?’
I looked at Master lying stretched out on the seat in the saloon. His eyes were closed and his features had relaxed and he was breathing easily, innocent as a trout in a pool. In my estimation he’d handled himself pretty well through all this so far and might have continued to do so but for O’Connor’s intervention. Out of prison, with appropriate clothes, money and a gun, he’d had a lot of options, but he’d chosen to check on his kids and try to help his wife. I thought about the sterility and heartlessness of Avonlea and didn’t want to be a party to putting him back there if I could help it.
I had two pistols and I felt like throwing them overboard. Master’s, I certainly would. ‘What would you expect?’ I said to O’Connor. ‘You reckon I’m going to go over there with guns blazing?’
O’Connor nodded.
‘Forget it. I’m doing what you wanted me to do all along. I’m calling the police.’
27
I crossed on a pontoon that ran between the jetties and squinted in the gloom at the boats lined up along jetty one. They were all shapes and sizes but mostly big. A few people were still on board tidying away or preparing for tomorrow’s sail or whatever boaties do last thing. The Ballina Belle was one of the biggest-a long, two masted white thing that made Reg Penny’s boat look like a bathtub and the Merlot look very modest. I took up a position about thirty metres away, protected by a high-riding catamaran. Show yourselves, I pleaded silently. On cue, a man appeared from below with a bucket attached to a rope. He dropped the bucket into the water and hauled it up. He was big, bearded and dark, not Warren North. He handled the full bucket carefully, watching to make sure none of the water splashed on the deck. Couldn’t have that.
North’s appearance a few seconds later registered with me almost as a physical shock. Even at that distance and in that light he was recognisable from the photograph, and his movements were those of the gunman I’d glimpsed briefly- smooth, fluid. The two men spoke, then North stepped over the side and onto the jetty. That put paid to my plan to get the police. Had I ever really meant to play it that way or was I just comforting O’Connor? It wasn’t an option now with North on the move. He walked purposefully towards the entrance to the marina and I fell in discreetly behind him, moving across to the next jetty as soon as I could. He appeared relaxed and confident and I didn’t like the look of things. If he’d managed to work the situation out to his own advantage somehow, Lorrie was no longer of any value to him.