Letterman left the shadows completely and joined the man at the fountain. He said softly, ‘What do I call you?’
‘Snyder will do. You’re Letterman?’
Letterman nodded. ‘What have you got for me?’
‘Not so fast,’ Snyder said. He sat down on the lawn near the base of the fountain and rested his forearms on his knees. ‘Let’s talk this over.’
Letterman looked down at the bushy head for a few seconds, then sat with Snyder. ‘There’s nothing to talk over. You tell me where to find Wyatt and I pay you twenty grand.’
‘It’s not that simple. How do I know you’re good for it? That’s the first thing. Second, I won’t know exactly where Wyatt is until I make contact with him.’
Letterman stared at Snyder. He didn’t like the man. Snyder looked lumbering and dissipated and too pleased with himself. Letterman felt an urge to slide the knife in, or slice off the absurd hair. ‘You’re telling me he wants you for a job?’
Snyder nodded. ‘Over in South Aussie somewhere. I fly out first thing Monday morning.’
‘He’s meeting you?’
‘Eventually. I fly to Adelaide. I take a taxi to the bus station. There’s a ticket waiting. The bus takes me up the bush somewhere. Now, that’s all you’re getting from me, pal, till I see the colour of your money.’
Letterman ignored him. ‘The bush? What sort of job?’
‘Maybe I’m not getting through to you. This isn’t a freebie, you know. I want something up front, and I want it now. The rest you can pay me when you see him, that’s fair.’
Letterman removed the black horn-rims and cleaned them. ‘Look at it from my point of view. I’ve been to South Australia plenty of times, I don’t need to go again. Especially if I’m being set up, the man from Sydney making a fool of himself, walking into a trap, kind of thing. Give me something to go on, something specific’
The last tram rattled by on Nicholson Street, a hundred metres away. Letterman saw the lights go out and on again at the centre of the intersection. He realised that the sound of the traffic was constant, even at this late hour. The air was getting chilly. He felt tired. Killing Pedersen had been a release, but now he felt tense again.
‘All right, look,’ Snyder said. ‘It’s some sort of payroll hit, that’s all I know. He asked Eddie Loman to send him someone who knew about radios and stuff.’
‘When’s the hit?’
‘Next Thursday.’
‘Where’s he meeting you?’
‘Place called Vimy Ridge.’
Letterman took an envelope from his pocket. He didn’t mind paying twenty grand to find Wyatt and he didn’t mind paying an advance on it. What he minded was letting Snyder state the terms. ‘Here’s two thousand,’ he said. ‘Show me Wyatt in the flesh and you get the remainder.’
‘You think you’ve got me, right? You think this way I’ll be sure to get on that plane. Well, I was going anyway. I want a cut of this job. You can pop Wyatt when it’s done, not before, okay?’
‘In other words, I follow you and wait.’
‘Yeah,’ Snyder said, ‘staying out of sight till I give the word.’ He stiffened. ‘Shit, cops.’
Letterman glanced up casually. Two young policemen had entered the park from Nicholson Street and were walking toward them. They were carrying torches.
Letterman made his voice loud and slurred. ‘The goodness is in all of us. The Lord Jesus taught me that. Have you looked inside yourself for the goodness?’
Snyder was reasonably quick. ‘You’re up a gum tree, mate,’ he said, punching Letterman lightly on the upper arm. ‘A flagon’s the only place you’ll find goodness. G’day,’ he said, when the policemen drew near.
Both policemen grinned and continued along the path. Letterman watched them. Now and then they flashed their torches into the shadows. Soon they were out of sight somewhere on the southern flank of the park.
‘Loman,’ he said.
‘What about him? You know him?’
‘We’ve met. The question is, I asked him to pass the word around about Wyatt, so why didn’t he tell me himself?’
‘It’s a mystery, all right,’ Snyder said.
SIXTEEN
After meeting with Tobin, Wyatt and Leah went back to the caryards on Main North Road and bought a twelve-year-old Holden utility. Wyatt wanted a vehicle that wouldn’t attract too much attention out in the bush.
The next day they went shopping at supermarkets and army disposal stores before driving north to the hideout. They bought four camp stretchers and sleeping bags, a two-ring camping stove and fuel, enamel cups, disposable plates and cutlery, two shovels, a portable shower, a chemical toilet, lanterns, candles and tinned and dried food. Everything was going to be buried before they left the farm. Wyatt didn’t intend to leave a single clue that they’d been there-no tracks, no garbage, no equipment that might identify them or tie them to the Steelgard hit.
They also bought four radios. Snyder was supplying a powerful unit to monitor the Steelgard van, but Wyatt wanted hand-held VHF/FM transceivers for communication in the field. He bought marine-band transceivers, assuming that no one in the bush would be listening in on that band.
The next few days would be a waiting game-waiting for Thursday, when they would show Tobin the layout, waiting for next Monday to meet Snyder, waiting for the Steelgard hit itself. It didn’t matter that Snyder would miss the trial run. What mattered was feedback from Tobin. Would Tobin think it feasible that the Steelgard van could be carted away? Would he be able to find them a truck that would do the job? Would the narrow roads pose a problem? Were the sheds at the farm too small?
Wyatt lived with these questions in the early part of that week, not because he wanted to but because Leah was there. She was keyed up, anxious to do the job, looking at it from all the angles. Wyatt was calmer about it. He knew what the problems were, but they couldn’t be answered until Tobin saw the layout, so there was no point in worrying until then. When he was working, Wyatt was concentrated and deliberate in all he did. He knew how to wait. He became remote and self-contained, which people often interpreted as arrogance. It was as if a small, chilling draft came off him. But he knew he had this effect on people, and because it was Leah there with him, he made an effort. He looked thoughtful when she raised objections about the job. He discussed the ins and outs with her. It kept them going. It kept up the harmony.
Not that they didn’t have plenty to do. Leah made shopping runs into neighbouring towns-never the same town twice-to buy daily essentials like milk, eggs, bread, butter, fruit, meat and vegetables. While she was shopping Wyatt explored the possible exits from the farm. If something went wrong with this job, if they had to get out in a hurry, it would not be by the road leading to the property. That’s where the trouble would be coming from.
First he checked the track leading back into the hills. He followed it all the way. At times it seemed to peter out, but he always picked it up again. It wound along the valley, around the edge of the hills, and eventually came out onto a secondary road on the other side of the range. He confirmed his earlier impression that it was passable to most vehicles.
But it wasn’t the only exit. If both roads were ever cut off there were the hills themselves. An agile person could make good progress on the smooth slopes. The grass wasn’t too high or dense. The main danger would come from hidden quartz reefs, rabbit holes and tussocks, all of them ankle-sprainers. There was also a reasonable degree of cover-the grass itself, creeks and erosion channels, rocky outcrops, solitary trees, their trunks rubbed smooth by forgotten sheep and cattle. From time to time he climbed to high ground. He was making a mental map of the area, marking topographical features, roads, neighbouring farms and the tin-hut corner, but being high up also gave him a sensation of unconquerability. He put it down to the clean, perfumed air, the blue and olive hills, the wind in the tossing grasses. At other times Leah made him lie with her in the sun. When he was working he tended to forget about sex for long periods, so when she drew him by the hand and began to undress him, he would blink, surprised and gratified.