Crucifixion Creek (29 page)

‘No, no,' he says. ‘You won't frighten me, mister police officer,' and he smiles
as Harry lays the shears down on the floor.

Then Harry pushes Potgeiter's knees apart, picks up the steel mallet and slams it
down on Potgeiter's left testicle, which explodes in a spray of pale blood. The scream
rings across the empty paddocks for quite some time.

It is perhaps twenty minutes before Potgeiter is capable of speech. He sits there,
drops of sweat glistening on his chalky forehead, saliva dribbling down his chin.

‘You're an animal,' he croaks.

Harry says. ‘My father. Who wanted him dead?'

Potgeiter opens his mouth but says nothing, just panting, and Harry raises the bloody
hammer once again.

‘NO!' Potgeiter is trembling, shaking helplessly. ‘Oldfield! The minister—Oldfield.
It's all about him, all of this. Your father, the kiddies, everything.'

Harry's lost. ‘What about the kiddies?'

‘He couldn't leave them alone, always calling in at Mortimer Street to be with them.'

Harry is thinking of Kelly's last news story. ‘You all went to Jakarta to get children?'

‘It was just business as far as the rest of us were concerned, but Oldfield was obsessed.
Look, people are too sentimental. There's no future for them in those slums, and
their families were glad of the money.'

‘They sold you their children?'

‘Sure, yes. For adoption, we said. Well, you don't want them to feel bad, do you?
At first Mansur brought them back on his boat, but then we used other ways, containers
and so on.'

‘And then you sold them.'

‘Of course. Just business.'

‘And my father found out?'

‘What? No, no, that was something different, something between him and Oldfield.
I don't know what that was. The kiddie business was going well until Kristich got
killed. I still don't understand what that was all about. But after that everything
unravelled, and the bikies got out of hand, and we had to wind things up fast. Listen,
I'm telling you all this, I'm cooperating, okay? But you've got to help me. I can
give you everything—bank accounts, customers' names, everything. But then you need
to let me go. A twenty-four-hour start, okay?'

Harry nods. ‘Keep talking. Did Greg March know about all this?'

‘He suspected, I think. That's why he had to go. It was him who got us first involved
in Crucifixion Creek. Oldfield was looking for a way to get at your father and he
found out about a family connection in business down there, having money problems,
and Oldfield got me to get him tied up with council contracts so we could put pressure
on him for information about your father's movements. March thought it was just to
arrange a meeting with the good judge, but later I guess he put two and two together.
We kept him in line by promising more work. But we were looking for somewhere quiet
to run the kiddie business, and Kristich saw the potential of Mortimer Street. He
already knew the Crows through their drug operation so it was perfect set-up.'

‘What did you mean, “he had to go”?'

‘Kristich and Bebchuk arranged that. March was asking questions, so they decided
to get rid of him. He was short of money again and Kristich tied him up with a loan.
Told him he'd sort it out if he ran an errand for him, to deliver a parcel to a kid
in Belmore. The parcel contained cash to pay the kid to kill whoever handed it over.'

‘I see.'

‘Well, he was a liability. And the other fellow was more use right from the start.'

‘What other fellow?'

‘The other builder, Rizzo. He's taken over March's business now but he was involved
all along. Preparing the Mortimer Street houses for the kiddies, making sure March
didn't cotton on.'

‘He knew all about it?'

‘Sure. He and Oldfield and Kristich were great buddies. He was just a tradesman,
of course, but they took him to parties, showed him a good time.'

Potgeiter stops, sits there panting. ‘Listen, I'm telling you all this and I'm in
pain. Get me some water and painkillers from the bathroom, eh?'

‘Tell me about Kelly Pool. Where is she? Have you killed her?'

‘No! I was a bit rough with her yesterday, you know, but she's fine.'

‘Where?'

‘Out in the paddock. I'll show you.'

‘Don't try anything. You know what I'll do to you.'

‘No no! Just undo these cuffs and help me up.'

Potgeiter can barely stand, and Harry grips his arm to steady him as he shuffles
with whimpering sobs towards the door. When they step outside he points to the steel
gantry like a hangman's scaffold, out there across the dry grass. ‘It's an old mine
shaft, deep. I put her down there for the night to loosen her tongue. There were
things they wanted me to find out from her.'

When they reach the place Harry sees that a concrete slab has been laid across the
top of the shaft. It is littered with old bits of machinery and a pair of steel trapdoors
are set in the centre. Potgeiter slides back the bolts and Harry helps him heave
open the heavy flaps. A taut cable runs from a pulley at the top of the gantry down
into the dark hole.

‘Kelly!' Harry's shout echoes in the void, but there is no answering sound. A foul
stench rises out of the hole and he chokes. ‘What's that smell?'

‘There are dead animals down there.' Potgeiter is fiddling with a small engine on
the winch mechanism. It coughs into life and he presses a button and the winch turns,
hauling the cable up. Staring down, Harry sees a pale shape begin to emerge from
the darkness. It rises into the light, a trussed figure dangling from a harness on
the end of the cable. He recognises the bowed head, the tangled red hair. Horrified,
he grabs her and swings her away from the hole. He unfastens the harness and she
flops to the ground and he starts to tear away at the straps of the jacket. He sees
the naked flesh beneath, bruised and bloodied.

‘Dear God.' He looks up at Potgeiter, kneeling beside the winch with a furtive leer
on his face.

‘Just a bit of softening up, old chap. Nothing like what you did to me, eh? She's
alive, isn't she?'

He's not sure. She's so cold. He feels her throat and finds a pulse, and then her
eyes blink open, struggling to focus. ‘Harry?'

‘Yes, it's me.' He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around her, then gets to his
feet. He grabs Potgeiter, hauling him upright.

‘We have an agreement, detective!' Potgeiter squeals as Harry drags him towards the
hole. He is still protesting when Harry lifts him into the air and hurls him down
the shaft.

His scream fades into the void, then abruptly stops.

Harry stands there for a moment. He turns back to Kelly and sees her staring at him.

‘You didn't see that, Kelly.' He takes her weight and begins to carry her back to
the house. ‘You're going to be all right now. You're safe.' She grips his shirt,
pressing her face into his chest.

In the living room he lays her on the sofa and gets blankets from Potgeiter's bedroom
and wraps them around her. He fetches a glass of water and waits, holding her hand,
until her shaking
subsides, then gets up and cleans the chair where Potgeiter sat,
and the mallet, and takes it and the shears back to their kitchen drawers. He returns
to Kelly and places the phone beside her.

‘I'm leaving, Kelly. I've never been here. Potgeiter brought you back to the other
room and left you lying on the mattress and then went out again, you don't know where.
You managed to crawl out here to the phone to call for help. You've no idea where
Potgeiter's gone, and no one else has been here, okay?'

She nods.

‘Give me a minute to get clear, and then ring triple-O. Can you do that?'

She nods again, then whispers, ‘He won't come back, will he, Harry?'

‘No. He'll never come back.'

As he heads to the door she calls after him, ‘But I don't know where I am. What do
I tell them?'

‘That's okay, they'll trace the number.'

38

As Harry drives through Orchard Hills an oncoming ambulance and police car rush past
him with sirens and flashing lights. He continues east, back into the city, to the
Creek. On the way he checks his phone, and gets Jenny's message about Curly.

The white ute is there on the forecourt of Rizzo Construction, but this time the
door is locked. Harry picks up a brick and smashes the lock and the door flies open.
In the reception area he can hear the distant sound of machinery, then the muffled
burst of a jackhammer. He opens the door into the shed but there is no one there.
The sounds seem to be coming from the far wall. He goes towards it and sees the outline
of a door frame set into the wall, barely visible between some shelving and racks
of timber. He opens the door and the noise hits him. He is in a section of the shed
next to the vacant unit that the bikies had colonised, and ahead of him a small backhoe
is digging in an area of concrete floor that has been partially broken up.

The roar of the backhoe engine dies to a rumble, and a figure wearing safety helmet,
goggles and ear muffs jumps to the ground
and picks up a shovel. He has his back
to Harry, who walks towards him and taps him on the shoulder. The man jumps and cries
out, spins round and sees Harry, then drops the shovel and pulls off the ear protectors
and goggles. ‘Shit, Harry!' Rizzo yelps. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

‘We need to talk.'

‘Um, okay. I'm kind of busy. Maybe later?'

‘This won't take long.'

‘Well…let's go to the office.'

‘Here'll do. What are you doing?'

‘Um, there's a problem with the drains.'

‘Yes, I can smell it.' It's a familiar stink, one he's smelled recently. He looks
at the trench Rizzo is digging and sees black plastic but no drains.

‘So what did you want to talk about?'

‘I wanted to ask you again about Potgeiter.'

‘Potgeiter? I told you, I don't know any Potgeiter.' Rizzo pulls off his helmet and
makes a big thing of pulling a cloth from his pocket and wiping his brow.

‘That's funny, because he knows you. Curly, isn't that what they call you?'

Rizzo's hand drops from his face. He stares at Harry, quite still. ‘Curly?'

‘Yes. Potgeiter has told us everything—Oldfield, Mansur, the children from Jakarta,
how Greg died, and your special role in it all.'

‘Oh God…' Rizzo's voice is a whisper.
‘I…I didn't really know what was going on, Harry, I swear. Whatever he's told you…'

‘The parties Oldfield took you to, your private work preparing the houses for the
kiddies. That's the word he used—kiddies.'

Rizzo groans. ‘I didn't see anything. I mean, I wondered—but those bikies threatened
me. I was scared to death.'

‘Show me what you're doing down there.' Harry nods at the trench.

‘What? No, it's nothing.'

Harry takes a step towards the broken slab and Rizzo leaps for the shovel and swings
it up to his shoulder like an axe. ‘Get back, Harry. I swear I'll…' He stops in mid-sentence
as he sees the pistol in Harry's hand.

‘That's good, Rizzo. You attack a police officer and I shoot you, with the greatest
of pleasure.'

The shovel slides off Rizzo's shoulder and he drops to his knees, sobbing.

‘Get in the hole,' Harry says.

‘Oh God, oh God.'

‘Get in the fucking hole, Rizzo.' Harry kicks his knee and he stumbles to the edge
of the trench and lowers himself down.

‘Pull up the plastic. I want to see what's under there.'

Rizzo tugs half-heartedly at the edge of the heavy black sheet. ‘I can't. It's pinned
down. There's nothing there, just sand.'

Harry cocks the pistol and aims it at Rizzo's head, and Rizzo drops to his knees
in the dirt and begins tearing at the sheet. A corner gives way and a gust of foul
air fills the hole. Rizzo reels back, gagging, and Harry looks down at tufts of black
hair and putrefying flesh.

He bends down and grabs Rizzo's wrist and handcuffs it to the heavy steel reinforcing
mesh projecting from the broken concrete slab.

‘Who are they?'

Rizzo snivels and sobs. ‘One of the containers got held up. They were all dead when
they arrived. They were going to put them down a mine shaft at Potgeiter's property,
but there were already… Potgeiter was getting worried about the smell, so they told
me to bury them here.'

‘Now listen to me, Rizzo. The cops will arrive any minute. The others will hang you
out to dry without a second thought. You've got one chance to survive this and that's
to tell the cops everything.
Understand? You ask to become a crown witness and tell
them everything. And we will know if you hold anything back, or tell any lies. Do
you understand?'

Rizzo nods so hard his whole body shakes. ‘I had no choice, Harry. I got this girl
Jamila pregnant and her family threatened me, then the bikies threatened me. It was
a nightmare. I'm only a builder for God's sake!'

‘But you knew what was going on—what Oldfield and the others were doing with the
children. That's what you tell the cops, it's the only thing that'll save you. In
the time that's left before they arrive you must go over everything in your head,
every detail, and make a full confession.'

‘Yes, yes, I want to.'

Harry leaves him. When he reaches his car he calls Deb's mobile. ‘Where are you?'

‘On my way out to Orchard Hills. They think they've found your girlfriend.'

‘Let them deal with that, Deb. I'm at a factory unit in the Creek, Rizzo Construction,
next to the Crow compound. Get over here with backup and crime scene. There are bodies
here, and a witness, Peter Rizzo. He was involved. He wants to make a full confession.'