He swung around and shouted, ‘Shut that fuckin’ thing off!’
The motor died and the area became quiet. The man who’d issued the order reached behind him and holstered his pistol. He walked towards me with his hands open in a benign gesture. I recognised Inspector Ian Farrow from Wollongong and realised that I was still alive and likely to remain so.
Farrow stopped a metre away. ‘Hardy,’ he said. ‘You are one lucky, lucky bastard.’
22
Sirens wailed and an ambulance and more police cars arrived but I was oblivious to most of it. They uncuffed me, sat me down in the back of a car with the door open and gave me a damp towel. I wiped at my eyes and mouth and felt the sting of fresh cuts and the dull ache of developing bruises. My face was pretty battered, my knees were sore and my clothes were a mess. I didn’t care. I was alive. After a while I looked around and cracked a smile although it hurt my face. A flock of seagulls was perched on top of the bobcat that had been brought out to plough me under.
The ambulance and one of the cop cars sped off and Farrow had the time to come over and talk to me. I thanked him before he could say anything.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Let’s get you back to the station and I’ll fill you in. You’re all right, aren’t you? Nothing broken?’ ‘Never better, considering.’ ‘Right. I’ll get one of our blokes to drive your car. Or rather, Ms Karatsky’s car.’
One of the cops started up the bobcat and the seagulls flew away. I watched them as they headed off towards the coast. I fastened the seatbelt and leaned back prepared to enjoy the ride. With my eyes clearing and my mouth starting not to taste like the inside of a football boot, I was beginning to think about what I was working on and how what I’d just been through bore on it. I decided to give it up until I’d heard from Farrow. I closed my eyes and found myself humming ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’. The cop sitting next to me gave me an odd look and I grinned at him. It still hurt to smile, but not as much.
‘We’ve known Clive Barton and some of his boys, like Jacob Henderson, were dirty for a while,’ Farrow said. ‘They’ve been under surveillance. Drugs mostly, import and manufacture, but also facilitating armed hold-ups and maybe the odd hit.’
We were sitting in Farrow’s office in the Wollongong Police HQ. I’d had a decent wash and gargle and had a mug of coffee in my hand. My cuts and abrasions and bruises weren’t hurting too badly thanks to a couple of Panadeine Fortes.
‘But Clive was very careful and we had nothing solid, so when they picked you up and had you lined up for an execution, it gave us the opportunity to arrest them. And that’ll allow us to put some pressure on the bunch. See who’ll squeal on who.’
Elizabeth Farmer would have said ‘whom’ but I wasn’t going to quibble. Farrow went on to say he’d monitored Marisha’s report of the stolen Hyundai and when the team tailing Barton and Henderson saw that they had picked me up they knew they had something and went into action.
‘I didn’t see anyone tailing me and believe me I was looking,’ I said.
‘We were well back. We were only able to get close when Jake started fucking around with that bobcat. Bought you some time. Anyway, that’s what I meant when I thanked you.’
‘Any time. Do you think Barton had anything to do with Purcell’s death?’
‘It’s possible. One of his other cronies is a target shooter. Be hard to prove though.’
‘So I’ll have to testify when they go up for abduction and attempted murder?’
Farrow remained silent.
‘Won’t I?’
‘That’ll depend on how it works out. What else gets admitted to. Who else gets given up. You know how it works.’
‘Sure, so now that we’re pals, you can tell me whether you got hold of Wendy Jones and Lonsdale and the other one.’
Farrow shook his head. ‘No sign of them. Checked out of the Novotel and vanished.’
‘What about Lonsdale’s shottie?’
Farrow had to consider that one. Eventually he nodded. ‘Found a sawn-off shotgun in his panniers. We want him.’
‘Wendy’s a part of this Farmer thing I told you about. She’s got something to do with whoever’s interested in that land. Barton didn’t bother properly investigating the fire that killed my client’s father. He’s tied to it as well.’
I talked on for a bit, describing the first time I’d been taken for a ride, and Farrow made some notes. ‘We’ll ask him about it and I’ll let you know if we get anything.’
‘You know there’s something big being planned down here,’ I said. ‘I put some pressure on that Lonsdale character to tell me who’d ordered me killed but he said he’d be dead himself if he talked. He meant it.’
Farrow shrugged. ‘Could’ve meant Clive.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just a feeling. Barton strikes me more as senior management than a CEO type. And there’s some big seed money around.’
I told him about the inflated price paid for Sue Holland’s land, even considering the high prices in the area, and the possibility that Wendy Jones was involved in the fire that killed Frederick Farmer. As soon as I said it, it struck me that the suspicions about Farmer’s death had firmed up to something like a fact and I reacted sharply, almost spilling my coffee.
‘What?’ Farrow said.
‘I thought Farmer’s death was an accident-the fire was just an attempt to shift him, but what if he’d sussed out why his land was wanted and he was deliberately killed to shut him up.’
‘That’s very speculative.’
‘Speculation is my middle name. If it’s right it puts Wendy in the frame for murder. What’s being done on that score?’
‘Everything possible and you stay out of it. After what’s happened recently I don’t imagine you want to tangle with a bunch of speed freak bikies.’
‘No, but it’s not the bikies I’m concerned about, it’s Wendy’s connection with the string puller. You must have candidates.’
‘Oh, there’re candidates, but again, keep clear.’
‘I was hired to find out what happened to my client’s dad and why.’
‘Well, you’ve got a good theory. Sell her that.’
I put the coffee mug on his desk and looked at him.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but it’s a police matter. We’ll keep you informed of course.’
‘Okay.’ I got to my feet and Farrow stood up too.
‘If you’d stuck around the way you should’ve when you found Purcell, this wouldn’t have happened to you.’
‘And you wouldn’t have got the handle on Barton.’
‘True.’ Farrow smiled. ‘And then there’s the little matter of the car you stole.’
‘Borrowed, and I left her a note.’
‘Doesn’t seem to have mattered. Well, I’ll leave you to sort that out.’ He reached into his pocket and handed me the keys. ‘Car’s out front. Watch out for yourself, Hardy.’
We shook hands and I went out. I couldn’t say that I felt safe. I didn’t know how far Barton’s influence spread in the Illawarra force or what reprisals might be taken. He and Henderson wouldn’t have risked driving around in the Hyundai so they must have had someone standing by to dispose of it and someone to pick them up. Farrow had spoken of another rotten apple, the target shooter, but there could be more.
I flinched when a shadow slanted across in front of me on the steps of the police building.
‘Take it easy, Hardy. It’s me, De Witt.’
He was there in his long, lanky, relaxed way, the first civilian I’d seen in quite some time and I was glad to see him. ‘Jesus, you gave me a fright.’