Wyatt - 06 - The Fallout (18 page)

She relaxed when she was on the
Parade, settling in three car lengths behind the Jaguar. Even if he veered onto
an unfamiliar route or tried to be evasive, she was reasonably confident of
staying with him. The XJ6 was a distinctive car, but, even so, earlier in the
day shed detailed the rear of the big car with small strips of reflective
tape. They were under the bumper and not immediately apparent to someone
standing close to the car, but clearly visible to anyone farther back in a car
at night, showing as an irregular red pattern in the headlights. Raymonds car
was unmistakeable. He could merge with a freeway of similar cars and Liz would
know him.

The minutes passed. Raymond followed
the cemetery around and headed toward Princes Street. Now and then he altered
speed or skipped lanes, as though to shake off a tail, but Liz didnt let
herself be drawn. He was simply going through the motions. He probably imagined
a tail even when he went out for bread and milk. She stayed where she was, in
the left lane, at the speed limit, more or less.

Liz followed the XJ6 to Alexander
Parade and onto the Doncaster Freeway. Raymond wasnt so tricky now. He kept to
one lane and to the speed limit, a young blade tooling along in his glossy big
car. Liz drifted close to him from time to time and had a clear view through
the rear window of the casual way he draped himself in the car, one shoulder
against the door, one hand on the wheel, the other along the top of the
passenger seat.

Raymond took the Bourke Road exit,
winding through the cuttings in the little hills of Ivanhoe and down into West
Heidelberg. He surprised her by parking in a side street and strolling into the
grounds of the University of Technology. Liz parked, got out, removed the
reflective tape from the XJ6, and hurried after him, into a world of lighted
footpaths between clumps of shrubbery and a hotchpotch of blockish buildings,
many of them well lit. Even so, the place seemed dark and creepy, and she
thought of the female students braving the shadows at night, on their way to a
lecture or back to their cars in the vast car parks.

Raymond came to a bench seat near a
pond. Here there was plenty of light, even a couple of smooching students on
the grass, and then, for the first time in two weeks, she saw Wyatt. He wore a
dark cap and a dark zippered jacket and was standing rock still, watching from
the corner of a nearby building. She knew that look: dark, sceptical, wary as a
cat. He didnt spot her. He began to approach his nephew, moving with an easy
fluid lope that could have turned into an attack or flight in an eyeblink. Part
of her stirred, transforming the loose grace of his walk into the more
concentrated grace of his hands and his body as hed touched and flowed with
her on their narrow bunk aboard the yacht. Despite the distance, she noted
tight lines of exhaustion, even of sadness, on Wyatts narrow, hooked face. She
was reminded of a prowling creature aware of its needs and the hunters
weaknesses.

What broke the spell for her was
Wyatt lifting his cap to scratch his head. Hed shaved off most of his hair. He
looked monkish, like a grim recluse in an old painting.

Liz watched them for an hour. They
could pass as mature-age students, she realised, taking a break from the
library stacks. One of them went for takeaway coffee from a machine. They
talked, strolled, sat again. Once when a nightwatchman went by she saw a subtle
stiffening of their spines, and after a while it occurred to her that Wyatt and
his nephew were watching a particular building. She would have to find out why.
It had a shut-down look about it, a cyclone security fence around an area of
building supplies against one wall.

She wondered what Vallance had to do
with it. Twice shed seen Vallance and a young woman arrive at Raymonds flat.
Shed also seen the woman visit Raymond alone, at the motel in Parkville. Liz
had had dealings with Vallance before and couldnt see someone like Wyatt
getting involved with him. Maybe Raymond had his own agenda. It might be worth
tipping the wink to her friends in CIB. They could pull Vallance and the woman.
If nothing else, it might scare Raymond and Wyatt into walking away from this
job, whatever it was. She hated to think of Wyatt in gaol. Shed crossed a line
and was walking with him, now.

Wyatt parted from his nephew at
nine, when the late lectures and tutorials broke. Liz knew where Raymond lived.
Time to learn where Wyatt had his bolthole.

* * * *

Twenty-six

Okay,
Raymond, Vallance said, just so you know I havent been twiddling my thumbs.

For this meeting, Raymond was back
in his apartment. Fuck Wyatt. He watched as Vallance cleared a space on the
coffee table and stacked it with brochures and photocopied price lists. I can
get this stuff in Geelong, Williamstown, Devonport, Port Melbourne.

He spread the documents over the
table and tapped with a bony finger. This heres your up-market scuba gear and
tanks. Tough, good air capacity. Okay, this is an underwater scooter.

The brochure showed a clumsy machine
trailing a diver. Raymond leaned over the table for a better look. Allie was
next to him on the couch. That was good, heat from her long thigh.

I know it looks like a handful of
buckets and tubes welded together, Vallance said, but you can cover a lot of
ground quickly. Plus its fitted with a metal detector. A scooters good for
backing up a visual search in clearish water less than fifteen metres, which
part of our area is.

Vallance slid another brochure
across the table. This heres your proton magnetometer.

Raymond saw a diver in murky water,
holding the centre point of a transverse bar to which two sensor heads, shaped
like small torpedoes, had been fitted. How does it work?

See this cable? It connects with a
monitor in the boat. The boat tows you in a predetermined search pattern over
the seabed. The sensors pick up anything made of iron or steel, like cannon or
anchors, even if theyre a hundred and fifty metres under. One of these babies
will pick up a large steel ship up to a quarter of a mile away.

Raymond leaned forward and indicated
a different brochure. What about this? Looks like a vacuum cleaner.

Good one, Vallance said. Thats
more or less what it is and how it works. Depending where you come from its
called a dredger or an airlift. Operated by a compressor on the surface. Well
have a lot of sand and sediment to clear away.

Where Vallance couldnt see it,
Allie was scratching her bare toes against Raymonds ankle again. He returned
the pressure. Pretty impressive.

Vallance nodded. So you can see how
it all mounts up. Equipment, plus a boat with plenty of deck and hold area,
doesnt take long to eat up a quarter of a million bucks in this game.

Raymond was fascinated by the
machines. Whats this?

He indicated a photograph of a diver
dwarfed by two massive hollow tubes, suspended on either side of him at the
rear of a ship.

Its a prop wash, Vallance said. You
anchor your salvage vessel thoroughly fore and aft, so she doesnt move, place
these tubes over each propeller, then run the motors. The wash effect gets
directed downwards, like a whirlpool, and it blows away the bottom sediment.
Clears a large area
molto
quickly. Not much good in water over fifteen
metres, but I thought we should get one, given that we cant afford to hang
around the wreck for too long.

Raymond said, But if its just
lying there, like the stuff we saw the other day, why all the bother?

Its not just lying there. If you
took the trouble you might pick up twenty or thirty grands worth of gold coins
just wearing scuba gear, but the bulk of it will be intact, buried deep
somewhere.

Raymond nodded. So all this
equipments available now?

It is.

None of its cheap?

Not if its top grade. Vallance
numbered his fingers. Youve got your hiring fee, insurance, transport costs,
incidentals like our accommodation and ferry charges. I wont lie to you, its
going to cost. But consider the return. Jesus Christ, unimaginable.

Raymond felt more alive than hed
ever been. Part of him wondered if his judgement was shot, but mostly he itched
for Allie Roden, itched for the treasure. Need a big boat for all this stuff.

Thats right.

So have you got one lined up?

Down in Geelong, Vallance said. Look,
Raymond, I wont bullshit you, we have to move fast on this. Most of the
syndicates money is already accounted for. Plus, one guy pulled out at the
last minute, putting more pressure on us. Ill need at least a deposit from
you, as soon as possible. I mean, no offence, but Ill have to look elsewhere
for funding if you decide you cant

I can pay.

Sorry, put it another wayif you
dont wish to get involved.

You said someone pulled out?

Allie spoke for the first time,
rolling her eyes in exasperation at what fate had delivered. We were
this
close
to finalising the deal, and he pulled the plug. Now we have to start
again, put out feelers, make approaches . . .

So theres nothing to stop me
buying
two
syndicate shares? Raymond asked.

She looked at him doubtfully, mouth
open, thinking about it. No reason why not, she said slowly. What do you
think, Brian?

Vallance was sharper. When I see
some hard cash, Ray, then we can discuss whether or not you buy one share, two
shares or none at all.

Raymond swallowed. Denise Meickle
swam into his thoughts again, her unappealing face, her slack body flipping
into the hole hed dug for her. He tried to shrug her away. He was a few days
away from fifty grand. Hundred grand, if he had Wyatts share. Fucking Wyatt,
big man with a reputation, sneaks a look at his private things and puts a match
to his memories. What did Wyatt want with fifty grand, anyway, considering he
had the jewels and God knows what else stashed away in his house across Bass
Strait. Wyatt, a bully and a coward, just like his brother, Raymonds father.

Youll get your money, Raymond
said.

There was another scenariopay
Vallance with a million bucks worth of paintings.

Vallance was staring at him
disbelievingly, but then smiled and folded away the brochures. I know you
will. I have every faith.

Not all my assets are liquid at the
moment, Raymond said. Like, a lot of its tied up in art.

Vallance peered doubtfully at
Raymonds walls: a Formula 1 racing car, a Ken Done print.

Not this crap, Raymond said. The
real thing, stored in a vault. Family heirlooms. He named the artists Chaffey
had listed.

Vallance looked interested. Dinkum?

My Dobell, Raymond said, could
fucking
buy
you a boat, let alone rent it.

Well, Vallance said, climbing to
his feet, Im certainly interested, but, like I said, I need cash. He looked
at his watch. Be back in a couple of hours. Theres some other people I want
to show these brochures to.

Allie showed him to the door, kissed
him on his leathery cheek, closed the door and leaned her long back against it,
smiling a languid smile at Raymond. Two hours.

She uncoiled from the door. She
loped across the carpet on her bare feet and pulled his head to hers,
periodically laughing with pleasure, a dark laugh deep in her throat. They
undressed. She breathed, What would you like me to do? and Raymond stroked
her, feeling her moist heat. Wash me with your cunt, he said, and heard the
laugh again, her sheer delight in him. He gave himself up to the sensations, a
kind of floating. She was good for him. She had the power to drive Denise
Meickle from his head.

At the end of it she propped herself
on her elbow and moodily traced his ribcage. I wish I could see you all the
time, instead of snatching an hour here and there.

Me too.

She laughed shyly. For the first
time in a long while Ive been thinking more than one week ahead, you know?

Do I figure in your plans?

She said simply, Yes.

Dump old Brian?

She sighed. Its run its course
anyway.

He wont like it.

She shrugged. So? It happens all
the time.

Make sure you dump him
after
he
pays me, Raymond said.

She looked at him. He tried to
fathom it. Or dump him permanently at the site, if you know what I mean.

Raymond found himself saying, You
know the paintings I said I owned?

Yes.

Raymond told her about the
university, the R.J.L. Hawke School of Burmese Studies. He told her about Wyatt
and the bush bandit and the prison break, not bragging, just wanting her to
know.

Awe and excitement settled in her
face. Is
that
who you are? she said.

* * * *

Twenty-seven

Why
a van? Raymond wanted to know. Why not something fast?

Were going to attract attention if
we walk out with a heap of paintings and try to stuff them into the boot of
your Jag. Not that theyd fit in the boot.