Wyatt - 01 - Kick Back (17 page)

Five seconds later he was around the
corner and crossing the car park. Behind him, curses, cries of Out of my
fucking way and Gis a look in the bag, mate.

Sugarfoot fumbled open the door of
Tinas Kombi, got in, and floored it, rocking back and forth in his seat as if
urging greater speed, wishing he were in the Customline, leaving snakes of
rubber at every stop light between here and Bargain City.

No way was he going home.

* * * *

Thirty-four

The
woman had said two oclock but Bauer got to the Caribbean Apartments at one oclock.
He drove slowly past the entrance, parked in a nearby street and walked back.

He stood for five minutes on the
footpath at the fenceline, where he could not be seen, and watched and
listened. Sala had not drawn his curtains. Bauer saw him pass from room to
room, singing, occasionally standing as if in doubt about something.

The fence was a low one and Bauer
stepped over it and crossed the lawn to the side of the apartments, to a shaded
area under an ornamental tree. He took out the .22, checked that the clip was
full, and fastened the silencer to the barrel. He felt sharp and alert. He hadnt
eaten, and knew that his blood was pumping fast on his empty stomach.

He crouched and circled the
building, straightening only to make a rapid inspection at each window. In Cher
and Simones apartment the curtains were closed, but he could hear voices. Theyll
be getting ready for their afternoon clients, he thought, and knocked on their
door.

Cher opened it. She wore a
close-fitting black dress and light make-up. Her feet were bare. She recognised
the thin lips, the gaunt, tense frame. The colour drained from her face. I
didnt know it was you, she said. All I had was a number.

Bauer entered and locked the door
behind him. As Cher turned away to precede him into the flat, his arm went
around her neck and he pressed the pistol against the base of her spine. He
began to probe with the barrel, as if seeking her anus, then spun her around
and pushed her against the wall.

Tell me what you know, he said. He
watched her closely. Then he began to twist her breasts with his free hand. It
was a studied act of loathing.

She swallowed audibly and grimaced
in pain. She whispered, Someone robbed Ken on Tuesday, and he thinks the same
ones did that job in South Yarra.

Where is Simone?

Cher jerked her head. In there.

We will join her

Cher led him into the lounge-room. Simone
was standing on the rug in the centre of the room, staring at the burning logs
in the fireplace. Without turning around to face them she said, If that was
Ken I hope he had something good lined up for a change.

Not exactly, Cher said.

Something in the voice made Simone
turn around. She saw Bauer with the gun pressed under Chers jaw, paled, and
stepped back. Whats going on?

Bauer pushed Cher forward, saying, Over
there by your whore friend.

When they were standing together on
the rug he said, Now, tell me everything.
Everything.

Simone, less frightened than Cher,
laughed briefly. I suppose this means we dip out on the reward, huh?

Bauer stepped forward, taking a
knife from his pocket. He touched the point to her earlobe. At first she didnt
realise that hed nicked her with it; but then she felt blood pool in a hollow
at the base of her neck and run down onto her breast. She stood stock still. You
dirty bastard, she said, in a low, passionate voice. You didnt need to do
that.

Talk, Bauer said.

Someone robbed Ken. The Youngers
came over and roughed him up as if it was all his fault. They tied him up so he
nearly choked. Hes been good to us. They didnt have to do that to him.

Bauer frowned. What has this to do
with anything? Are you lying? I was paid as usual. Nothing was said about a
robbery.

Maybe, but the Youngers are
covering up. Someone hit Ken, the Youngers know who it was, and Ken thinks its
got something to do with that other job, the reward one.

Bauer began to feel his control
slipping. Confined spaces made him nervous, and Simones blood made him think
of AIDS. He had the sensation of a creeping corruption in his bloodstream. He
pushed her away. You will say nothing. You will behave as if nothing has happened,
he said, backing out of there, his face twisted with disgust.

Once outside again, he breathed in
and out deeply and walked around to Ken Salas door and pressed the doorbell.

Inside he heard Sala call, Who is
it?

Bauer said nothing. He pressed the
bell again.

This time Sala stood close to the
door. Who is it?

Open the door, Bauer said.

He didnt wait for the door to open
fully before pushing through. Sala fell back against the wall. You, he said.
He was puffy-faced and hed been drinking.

Bauer took out the .22 and pushed
Sala into the bedroom, grinding the end of the silencer under his jaw.

Tell me what happened.

Sala focused slowly. Did the girls
tell you? We were ordered to keep it quiet.

You may tell me, Bauer said
coldly.

On Tuesday Id just collected the
take when these two guys came bursting in and roughed me up and took the lot.

Who were they?

Never seen them before.

Perhaps youre dissatisfied.
Perhaps you decided to take a bigger slice.

Sala was frustrated. Thats what
Sugarfoot said. You got to believe meI was robbed. I got a good thing going
here. I wouldnt fuck that up. I mean, Jesus.

He had his hands flat on the bed
next to his thighs. He rocked back and forth. He was terrified and more than
likely telling the truth.

More than
likely:
it was
qualification enough for Bauer to fire the pistol. There was a small spurt of
blue flame and two almost co-existent sounds: the huff of the silenced shot and
the punch of the bullet through Ken Salas left hand.

Sala looked down. There was little
to see at first, but then blood began to seep from the small puncture wound on
the back of his hand. He slowly raised the hand and examined it, both sides.
Then he tucked it in his armpit. He said, disbelievingly, You shot me. He
looked down at the bed cover, at another puncture mark, stained red at the
edges. You bloody well shot me.

He began to wail terribly. The
rocking grew more agitated and he slid off the bed and onto the floor.

Bauer straddled him. Tell me about
the two men.

I dont know, Sala said. I dont
know.

He tried to get up, but felt Bauers
foot on his face.

Answer me, Bauer said.

Sala twisted and twitched beneath
the foot like some baffled animal shot in the spine. Again he tried to raise
himself and again Bauer held him down.

Are you ready to answer me?

Sala went still. His chest was
heaving. Two of them, he said. He jerked as if to rid himself of the heavy
foot.

Two men. That is not specific,
Bauer said. Describe them to me.

Sala burped and coughed suddenly,
enveloping Bauer in a fug of stale alcohol and panic. He said, Let me up,
please. I cant think down here.

Bauer removed his foot and stepped
back. He watched as Sala climbed to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. Begin,
he said.

They wore balaclavas. But the
Youngers seemed to know who they were.

Who?

Wyatt was one. Hobba. I never heard
of them.

What else?

Ivan thinks it was personal, Sugar
thinks theyre funding a bigger job.

What do you think?

Sala was rocking to and fro on the
bed. I dont think anything. I was told to shut up about it. What happens now?
What do I say to Ivan?

Bauer regarded him with distaste. Dont
say anything. I will be in touch.

I need a doctor.

The girls will take you, Bauer
said.

He left the bedroom, closing the
door and telling Sala to stay there. In the kitchen he found a wall-mounted
telephone. He dialled a Sydney number. When he spoke it was to give a report
and a recommendation. He spoke clearly and concisely for two minutes without
repeating himself. The reply was what he expected it to be. He broke the
connection again, pocketed the .22 and left the house.

* * * *

Thirty-five

The
Kombi was gutless but Sugarfoot made the distance from Hobbas to Bargain City
in eight minutes. He parked in the alley, came in the back way, and stood in
the showroom, catching his breath. Leanne was there, this time with a whole
family of ethnics looking at kitchen chairs.

He forced himself to be casual. Ivan
in?

She looked up. He went home to meet
someone. Are you all right?

Ill be in the storeroom,
Sugarfoot said.

She shrugged, turning away to play
peekaboo with one of the ethnic kids.

Sugarfoot shut himself in the
storeroom and began to walk among the junk, feeling on edge, wondering when
Ivan would get back. It was probably stupid, coming here. Hed be safer at Ivans
house, that high wall and all that hi-tech security stuff.

Then it struck himdont run, go on
the offensive. Hobba is alerted now, so go for Pedersen. He picked up the
storeroom phone and dialled.

Yeah?

Pedersen, flat and wary.

Home at last, eh? Sugarfoot said. Got
your pockets full?

No answer. Sugarfoot said, You
listening? You know who this is?

Hobba called me, Pedersen said.

There was no inflexion in his voice.
He sounded more preoccupied than surprised. Sugarfoot felt sour about that. Thought
you might like to do a deal, he said.

He heard rustling in the background,
and then a complaining zipper. Sounds like you might be counting your take. Am
I right?

Im busy, Pedersen said. What do
you want?

Mate. Think about it. I can ruin
your day.

Pedersen said, I seem to remember
we ruined yours. We can do it again. Fuck off.

Sugarfoot had the upper hand. He
wasnt fazed. Suit yourself. Ill just go and have a word with the jacks, what
do you reckon? Or maybe that bloke you hit, that lawyer. I mean, if you wont
cough up for me, I bet hell be happy to.

A pause. Then, Get to the point.

That is the point. You give me a
percentage, or I dob you in.

Another pause. How much?

Thats better, Sugarfoot said. They
reckoned on TV ten thousand, but the take was bigger, am I right?

Pedersen replied warily, Maybe.

Well, what are we looking at?

After a while, Pedersen said, Around
fifty thousand.

Your cuts what, sixteen,
seventeen?

Pedersen grunted.

So if I got, say, ten thousand off
each of you, you still wouldnt be out of pocket, Sugarfoot said. I mean, I
wouldnt want all of it.

There was a pause, then Pedersen
said clearly, And we come after you and blow your miserable brains out.

Sugarfoot was enjoying this. Not if
theres this envelope, it gets opened if anything happens to me.

You been watching too many films,
Pedersen said.

Sugarfoot straightened, his feet
firm and set apart on the cement floor. Youre in no position to fuck with me,
pal. You collect the other two and meet me now, with the money.

Cant.

What do you mean, you cant? Do you
want me to put the cops onto you?

I mean we
physically
cant
make it. It will take a while to track Wyatt down.

Sugarfoot considered. All right,
two this afternoon.

I could need more time.

Jesus. Four oclock, no later.

Where? Pedersen said.

I dont trust you bastards.
Somewhere nice and open. Theres a footbridge over the Yarra at Abbotsford, at
the end of Gipps Street. Be on the middle of the bridge at four.

On the bridge.

Right in the middle, Sugarfoot
said, where I can see all three of you.

See your faces, that look when you
realise Im picking you off from high ground somewhere.

He hung up. He was going to need
something a bit gutsier than the Kombi.

Like Ivans Statesman.

* * * *

Thirty-six

They
dressed again and had coffee and set out for the beach on foot. Wyatt could
feel his heart and lungs working. The black soil was carpeted with winter
grasses, scored here and there by plough lines and the mud eruptions of bogged
farm vehicles. They skirted a chain of crisp puddles. The roadside grasses,
starred and bearded with frost, reflected light from the mid-morning sun. By
the time they reached the beach they could hear water dripping.