Return to Moondilla (21 page)

‘Julie—’

‘I’m sure no one saw me! But I saw it was definitely Ian. They must have woken up to him at last.’

‘You didn’t ring the police, did you?’ Baxter asked, pulling on his jacket.

‘No, of course not. I can’t be sure I won’t get Senior Sergeant Cross.’

‘Good. But how many men are on the boat?’

‘Four, with Campanelli himself. Apart from his two goons there’s a fellow who’s a kind of minder. He looks after the boat and does a lot of odd jobs.’

‘Four men and they may be armed. I think we’re outmatched, Julie. We might have to find a way to get the coppers involved—’

‘There’s no time for that! Look, I’m going with or without you. Right now they’ll be knocking Ian about to get information. Then they’ll dump him in the ocean.’

‘They’ll dump you too if you go meddling with them.’

‘I can’t stand idly by and let them kill Ian!’

Baxter knew she was right—he just didn’t want her anywhere near danger. But he couldn’t take on four men alone, and without the police, it was him and Julie together.
In that case
, he thought,
the more the merrier
.

‘All right, I’m in,’ he said. ‘Ring Steve and get him to meet us near the jetty. He isn’t a fighter, but he may be of some use.’

Julie agreed and named a particular side street as a good place to meet.

When Baxter put the phone down, he looked at the old shotgun beside his desk. He was tempted to bring it, but after a moment of thought he vetoed the idea. Instead he rammed a short ironwood stave in his belt. It was incredibly heavy for its length and as hard as iron, hence the name—a very handy weapon at close quarters.

He didn’t even consider bringing Chief. The dog was loyal and trustworthy, but he wasn’t trained for a situation like this. He was an innocent pet, not a police dog, and there was just too much risk of him being shot. Before Baxter rushed out of the house, he gave his mate a pat and told him to hold down the fort.

•

When Baxter arrived in the darkened side street near the jetty, he spotted Lewis and Julie waiting in her car. He parked and walked down to meet them, keeping to the shadows, then knocked on the window and got into the back seat.

Julie hadn’t had to twist her brother-in-law’s arm: when told that Baxter needed his help, he’d given Jane an excuse and left immediately. Julie had put him in the picture, so he was aware that they were almost certainly in for a scrap.

‘How do we tackle it, Greg?’ he asked.

‘Head-on, Steve. There’s no other way. The longer we leave it, the worse it will be for Latham. We’ll have to put Campanelli
and his men out of action. But Steve, I’m not expecting you to fight except in an absolute emergency. Julie, remember to go for vulnerable areas like the eyes and ears. And of course, if you get the chance, kick a man as hard as you can in the crotch—as many times as possible.’

She nodded and gave him a grim smile. ‘I’m ready.’

‘Let’s go,’ Baxter said urgently.

They ran up the jetty and then jumped across to the yacht moored alongside. A thick-set fellow wearing a peaked marine cap appeared at the top of the steps that led down into the yacht. ‘Where do you think you fellows are going?’ he growled. ‘This yacht is private property. Clear off.’

‘Mister, you’ve got three options,’ Baxter said. ‘One is to help us. The second is to leave this boat and walk away in one piece. The third is to fight us and cop what comes.’

The trawlerman picked up a fishing gaff and waved it in front of him. Baxter kept walking. As the fellow thrust the gaff at him, he caught it with his ironwood stave, twisted its head and pulled it free. He transferred the stave from his right to his left hand and hit the trawlerman a terrific blow on his jaw that dropped him to the deck.

‘Steve, see if you can find some rope to tie this fellow up, then ring the police and tell them what’s going on. Tell them to bring an ambulance. We’re sure as blazes going to need one.’ Steve nodded and got to work, and Baxter turned to Julie. ‘If you’re going to be in this scrap, stay behind me.’

He pitched the gaff overboard and ran down the steps, followed by Julie. At the bottom he smashed down the door of the yacht’s saloon. Then he paused for a second.

Latham was hanging from a hook in the ceiling and two men were hitting him, one in front and one behind. The first man was big and ginger-haired—Skeeter, Baxter recognised, from the Family Hotel courtyard—and the other man had an Asiatic appearance, so Baxter guessed that he might be Yat Lee. Campanelli was sitting at a table that had been pushed to one side to allow the beating to proceed.

One of Latham’s eyes was closed and blood was running from his nose. The sight of this good man being subjected to such treatment made fury surge through Baxter. His next movements were so swift that later Julie said she had difficulty recalling them.

Baxter jumped closer to Skeeter, then spun around, kicked up and caught the big ginger-haired man under his chin. The kick lifted Skeeter off the ground and broke his neck with a
crack
. He collapsed at Latham’s feet. He’d been reaching for the pistol in his shoulder holster, but his hand had only closed on its butt.

‘Yat!’ Campanelli shouted. ‘Get him!’

So this
was
Yat Lee. Lester’s description of the man flashed through Baxter’s mind:
If you meet up with him, don’t give him any slack. He’d shoot or knife you and not think twice about it.

The slim man came out fast from behind Latham with a knife in his hand. Its tip caught the top of Baxter’s shoulder and blood began to run down his arm. Yat came at him again, but Baxter ducked then hit him across the arm with the ironwood stave.

Screeching in pain, Yat pressed his arm to his chest. His knife flew across the room towards Campanelli, who’d got to his feet to take a hand in the fight.

Julie moved to block him, then kicked upwards and caught him in the crotch. He grunted and reached down. Julie paused and, taking deliberate aim, repeated the sharp kick—twice. Campanelli swore and bent over, clutching himself, his eyes watering.

Meanwhile, Baxter smashed Yat and then hit him a terrific blow across the throat. Yat slumped to the ground.

Baxter lifted Latham from the hook, lowered him gently to the floor, then untied his hands and talked quietly to him. ‘You’ll be right now, Ian. The ambos will be here shortly and you’ll be in hospital in no time.’

‘Look out, Greg!’ Julie screamed.

Campanelli had seized Yat’s knife and was charging at Baxter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Baxter pushed Latham to one side and side-stepped as Campanelli came towards him.

There was a report and then a second one. Campanelli stood still for a second or two and then crashed to the floor.

Latham, a police officer while he had breath in his body, dropped Skeeter’s pistol, which he’d pulled from the shoulder holster. ‘Only had one eye to see through,’ he croaked. ‘Did I get him, Greg?’

‘You got him, Ian,’ Baxter said, as the first of the police officers came through the door, followed by Steve Lewis. Baxter was relieved not to see Senior Sergeant Cross among them. Latham had collapsed across Skeeter’s body.

‘Christ, it looks like a war zone,’ Lewis said.

‘Let’s hope it’s the end of the war on drugs in Moondilla,’ Baxter said. ‘Where’s the ambulance? Julie, what’s the score with Latham?’

‘It looks as if he’s got a broken nose and I think he’s concussed, but he’ll need X-rays to check for internal damage. It’s a miracle he had enough left in him to shoot Campanelli. Pure willpower. The ambos will look after him and I’ll see him in hospital.’ Then she took Baxter by his uninjured arm, her touch firm but gentle. ‘I’ll need to look at your cut before I go. You might need stitching up by the blood you’re losing.’

‘I got off lightly considering the odds.’ He smiled at her, reaching up to take her hand. ‘You distracted Campanelli long enough for me to deal with that creep.’

She returned his smile, her eyes bright and warm, and squeezed his hand.

‘First you should make sure Latham’s sorted out,’ Baxter told her. ‘I reckon I’ll be here for a while if you come looking for me later.’

‘Three men dead—yes, you’ll be here for a while,’ an officer said. ‘Why didn’t you let us know what was happening? It’s not your job to tackle crooks.’

‘You’d better ask Dr Rankin that question. Or better yet, Latham himself.’

‘I’ve done all I can for him,’ Julie said, getting up from looking at the prostrate detective. ‘Steve, will you dash out to my car and bring me my bag? It’s in the boot.’ She handed
Lewis the car keys, then turned to Baxter. ‘Off with your shirt, Greg.’

Yat’s knife had almost sliced off a strip of skin on the point of Baxter’s shoulder, and the wound was still bleeding profusely. ‘I must be slowing up,’ he said.

‘If it was anyone else, they’d be dead. Nobody could be faster than you, Greg.’ Julie eyed the wound. ‘If I can stitch up that loose skin, you’ll hardly have a scar.’ Two ambos had placed Latham on a stretcher and were carrying him out of the saloon. They nodded to Julie before leaving. ‘I’ll get to the hospital as soon as I’ve finished with Greg here,’ she told them.

Steve returned with her medical bag and she took out what she needed.

‘This is the second time you’ve done a stitch job on me,’ Baxter said, remembering their first meeting in Moondilla.

‘I hope it’s the last,’ she said as she gave him a local anaesthetic.

Out of the corner of his eye, Baxter noticed Inspector Daniels enter the cabin. Daniels was the boss cop for the entire district—Baxter recognised him from the news but had never been introduced to him. He was a large man with a hooked nose.

‘How did all this start, Dr Rankin?’ the inspector asked.

Julie kept a thick compress on Baxter’s shoulder while she waited for the local to take effect. She gave Daniels a short account of the assault on Campanelli and his hoods.

‘Why didn’t you ring us?’ he demanded. ‘This was strictly a police matter, not one for you or anyone else to get mixed up in.’

Julie wasn’t about to be intimidated. She explained herself in a calm, clear voice.

‘You aren’t supposed to know that Cross is bent. Did Latham tell you?’ Daniels asked sharply.

‘Never mind who told me,’ she replied, equally sharply. Then her tone gentled, ‘Keep still, Greg. I’m about to begin stitching.’

The inspector gestured at the room. ‘There’s three men dead here. That’s going to take a lot of explaining!’

‘There would probably have been a dead police officer and a very good one before the night was over,’ Julie said. ‘As for it being “strictly a police matter”, I should remind you that Campanelli twice tried to murder Greg by wiring his boat and then sending two of his hoods to kill him with iron bars. I should say it was anything but “strictly a police matter”.’ She took a breath, her fingers still sewing away. ‘Even allowing for our rapid intervention, Ian has been badly knocked about. It’s a miracle he was able to shoot Campanelli. But hopefully that’s the end of the drug business in Moondilla.’ Julie tied up the last stitch. ‘There you are, Greg. You can put your shirt back on.’

Inspector Daniels was staring at her, his mouth slightly open.

‘Any more questions for me?’ she asked with a polite smile. ‘I’m going to the Bega hospital now to check on Ian.’

‘No more questions.’ Daniels hunched into himself, defeated. ‘I suppose you’ll do the post-mortems?’

‘I suppose I will,’ Julie said brightly.

Baxter coughed to hide his grin.

‘See you later, Greg,’ she said. ‘Don’t do anything drastic with that shoulder and take a couple of aspirin when you get home.’

Baxter nodded. ‘Tell Ian I’ll see him when he’s feeling better.’

As Julie left, Daniels transferred his attention to Steve Lewis, who’d been a silent bystander. ‘Where do you fit into this? Another vigilante?’

‘Not really, Inspector.’ Lewis introduced himself and explained his role.

‘Were you aware that Latham was an officer working undercover?’ Daniels asked.

‘Not until tonight,’ Lewis said.

‘Who told you?’ Daniels was writing all of this down.

Lewis shot Baxter a glance, and he nodded a reassurance.

‘Greg and Julie told me,’ Lewis said.

‘Christ,’ said Daniels, shaking his head, ‘no wonder Campanelli tumbled to Latham. The whole bloody world must have known his identity.’

‘Not necessarily, Inspector,’ Baxter put in. ‘A cop might have let it slip to Sergeant Cross and he told Campanelli. And what about your man on the inside?’

Daniels stared at him. ‘So you know about him too?’

‘Yes. Latham felt he should fill me in.’

Daniels put a hand to his forehead. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll need full statements from both of you, about everything that happened tonight and everything you know.’

•

When they were finished, Daniels sighed and put away his notebook. He looked as though he needed a stiff drink.

‘That’s all very well,’ he said, ‘but there’s going to be a lot of questions asked. Such as why a detective sergeant’s rescue was pulled off by civilians, and why three men had to die in the process.’ But then the inspector gave Baxter a half-smile. ‘On the other hand, Ian can thank his lucky stars he had you on side.’

Baxter nodded—it was good to know Daniels appreciated his efforts, even if simply at a personal level. This seemed a good opportunity to ask an important question. ‘What are you going to do about Senior Sergeant Cross?’

But the inspector immediately closed off again. ‘That’s a police matter and doesn’t concern you, Mr Baxter.’

‘You’re surely not going to allow him to remain in the police force? There’ll be an almighty scandal if nothing’s done about him.’

Beside Baxter, Lewis was nodding firmly.

Daniels scowled. ‘We’ll attend to Cross, all right?’

‘I hope you do. Bent police officers stick in my craw.’ Baxter swayed with a wave of exhaustion and blood loss. He glanced
at his watch and realised it was near dawn. ‘If you’ve finished with us, we’ll leave this lot to you.’