Saving Billie

'He's tied in with some people out Campbelltown way. A community protection outfit. Know anything about them?'

'Coconuts?'

'Islanders, yeah.'

'I've heard of them. There's a few around. I'm told they've got things going.'

'Like?'

He shrugged his beefy shoulders. 'Insurance scams, immigration scams. Shit, I dunno.'

'Doesn't sit too well with praising the Lord.'

'That's fair dinkum for some, just a bloody front for others-the smart ones.'

'What category would Kooti be in?'

'Dunno. I'm fast losing interest in this, Hardy.'

'Fair enough. One last thing-d'you know how I can get in touch with him?'

He smiled, showing a couple of gold-filled teeth, opened a drawer in the desk and rummaged in it. 'Gave me his mobile number in case I wanted to discuss admitting Jesus to my life. Know what I said?'

I shook my head.

'I said, "Sounds like a Mex Bantam. Has he got a left hook?" I thought that was funny. What d'you reckon?'

'Pretty funny.'

He pushed a drink coaster across the desk. 'Here you go. I don't need it. We was havin' a drink-I was, he wasn't.'

I took the coaster, pocketed it and stood. 'Thanks.'

'We square now, Hardy?'

'Sure. Will I say hello from you when I talk to Steve?'

'Okay. Maybe he could put in a good word for me with God.'

'Do you believe in God?'

'Sometimes-when one of my boys gets up off the floor and kayos the other guy.'

'You're all heart, Rudi.'

He waved his arms, embracing the room, the smells, everything. 'Look, I own this place. Got a block of units in Earlwood, a nice home in Strathfield with the missus and the kids, holiday place in Thirroul. Of course I believe in God.'

'How're you going to vote?'

'How do you reckon?'

12

I drove to the office and did a web search on Oceania Securities. It had a website that told me about as little as it could. Investments… consultancy… portfolio management-that kind of thing. The office was in St Leonards. There were no details given about Barclay Greaves and a web check on him turned up nothing. The Sydney Morning Herald database did better. A couple of stories on Greaves came up. He'd been a consultant in a big company merger that had threatened to go bottom up and he was credited with righting it. He was described as forty-six, married with two children, a former tax office heavyweight turned merchant banker turned big-time fixit guy. The article implied that his consultancy fee took a decent bite from both of the merging companies. Good one.

The other piece dealt with his involvement in a New Zealand land deal thrown into doubt by a couple of the parties suddenly coming under fire for tax transgressions. Oceania Securities had arranged amnesties and compromises and the deal had gone through satisfactorily. This item revealed that Greaves was a lawyer with degrees from the universities of Melbourne and Chicago. It was unclear whether he was a New Zealander or an Australian. He described himself as an Australasian to the reporter who'd managed the briefest of interviews,

That was something to chew on. Clearly he had some connection with Clement and not an altogether happy one from his behaviour on party night. Was he backing Lou Kramer's work in some way? He looked like a possible source for the extra money she might need to lure Billie, but what would his motive have been for that? True love? I doubted it.

Given the apparent scale of his operations, I was surprised Greaves hadn't attracted more press attention. But I suppose that just as those who seek it can get it, those who don't want it can avoid it. I had a contact at the Australian Financial Review, a former editor in fact, who now had gone back to investigative work as any dinkum journalist would. I rang her and put the question about Greaves.

A true reporter, her first response was, 'Why? Have you got something?'

'Hey, Lily, I'm asking you.'

'Pity. Mystery man, probably an Enzedder but I've never seen his passport. A lot of these types have a few anyway.'

'He's a type, is he?'

'Cliff, I really don't know. There're rumours about him. He's involved in this, he's involved in that, but never anything substantial and he's sort of not interesting enough for anyone to put in the time and effort on him.'

'Is that because he likes it that way?'

'You're learning.'

'What about his politics?'

'No idea. You're intriguing me.'

Lily Truscott is a woman I wouldn't mind intriguing. I'd met her at a fight night in Marrickville. Her brother was on the bill and I was sitting next to her. She was his most enthusiastic supporter, and when I made a few complimentary remarks about his work, she gave me a smile. When he won she jumped up, whooped and gave me a hug.

After that, we had a drink and, as the Stones put it, spent a few nights together. But she was career oriented. So was I, in my way, but there was something there, and I suppose it was in the back of my mind to develop it when I rang her.

'Tell you what, Lil. If anything comes of this I'll let you in on it.'

'Yeah, yeah. But I'll hold you to that and give you this-from what I've heard about Greaves, which is bugger-all, so this is just intuitive stuff, I'd guess that he's a man out to make a big score.'

We left it there. I felt like one of those con men who sell off acres they hold a shaky title to, over and over and over again. But I just might be able to make good on the deal.

The online bank showed that Lou's cheque had bounced and that my account had been debited for the dishonoured fee. I rang and told them to re-present it and that I'd pay the fee to accelerate the clearance again. Hardy the gambler.

That left me with Steve Kooti. A knock came on the door. I opened it and Tommy stood there, uncertain but optimistic.

'Hey, man, you owe me a hundred bucks.'

I had to laugh. 'So I do.' I felt for my wallet but discovered that I didn't have enough cash. 'Have to go to an ATM.'

I pulled the door closed and we started down the stairs. On the way I told him I hadn't meant to run out on him, it was just that I had to follow someone. 'Anyway, I didn't get you in trouble. I didn't go near the house you showed me. How did you find me, by the way?'

'Found one of your cards in the car.'

'So you can go back and get on with your job hunting.'

'Kinda like it down here.'

'Hard without money.'

There was a queue at the ATM and just for something to say I asked him if he knew Steve Kooti.

'I should. He's my uncle.'

I looked at him sharply. 'I thought you were a Koori.'

'Koori one side, Maori the other, with other stuff thrown in. Real mongrel, me.'

I got the cash and gave him the hundred. 'Hang on. I'll buy you a drink.'

He shrugged his acceptance and we went to the pub near the railway station. His was a schooner of New and mine was a middy of light. He took a long drink and sighed. 'That's good. Pity I'm out of smokes.'

I gave him a twenty and he came back with a packet and lighter. 'I'll buy the next round,' he said.

'We'll see. Tell me about Steve. He used to be a heavy, now I'm told he's in the God squad. Does he hang out with Manuma's lot, the protection mob?'

'Shit, no. Used to, but now he's in the other church. Big John's Island Brotherhood, Uncle Steve's in Children of Christ.'

'What's the difference?'

Tommy sucked in smoke and beer. 'Not much as to singing and praying and that, but a lot in other ways.

IB's for coconuts only. Doubt they'd let me in, being part Koori. CC'll take anyone.'

'What else?'

He looked at me shrewdly. 'You're trying to get me in trouble again. Have to pay to do that, man.'