Rubdown (9 page)

We were almost there when we heard a shout. ‘Hey!’

Sean slammed the door, pushed the button in the handle and leaned back on it with all his weight. Footsteps thudded on the carpet, someone hammered the door and the walls started shaking. I was struggling with the window, trying to slide it open, but the sashes were stiff from lack of use.

‘Quick,’ he shouted. Somebody kicked the door and his body jerked with every blow. A mighty bang and there was a crack in the cheap timber. I thought of that scene with Jack Nicholson in The Shining and the extra pulse of fear gave me the strength to shove the window open. I clambered out into the concrete car park behind the flats and stood back.

Sean released the handle, ran across the room and dived through the window as the bedroom door burst open. He landed hard, scraped his palms and knees, rolled. I hauled him up by the t-shirt as Craig struggled to fit his huge body through the window frame. Then I saw Neville come around the corner of the building, recognition in his eyes and a gun in his hand.

Adrenaline surged and Sean and I ran straight for the fence.

I didn’t think I’d make it over the eight foot chain link until I heard a gunshot and the crack of a bullet ricocheting off the concrete drive. Fuck.

Sean and I leapt at the fence, scaled it like a couple of monkeys and fell to the ground on the other side as another bullet struck a metal pole. I glanced back as we picked ourselves up and started to run. Neville and Craig weren’t climbing over, they were running around the front of the flats to try and head us off.

We stumbled across the uneven ground of the vacant lot next door, to the road and Sean’s car. He fumbled with the keys at the driver’s side, dropped them, and I screamed at him to hurry as Neville and Craig approached the gate. I was jumping up and down, pulling on the handle as Sean threw himself in. Neville charged through and raised the gun as he ran, pointing it right at me. Sean simultaneously fired up the engine, leaned over and unlocked the passenger door. I reefed it open, jumped in, slammed it and shrieked as the side mirror exploded in a shower of glass and metal. Bullets clanged off the boot and Sean floored it, tyres squealing as the Saab skidded around the corner. He tore around residential streets until it became obvious no one was following us and we stopped in a laneway beside Huntingdale Golf Course.

I realised I was curled into a ball on the passenger seat, hands over my face, breathing deeply. Sean and I looked at each other.

His eyes were all pupil. He started to laugh and I couldn’t help it.

I laughed too.

Sean wound down the window, stuck his head out, and yelled something unintelligible to the sky.

‘Oh my god,’ I said, still laughing, ‘you are a fucking freak.’

He pulled his head back in and grinned at me, eyes gleaming, reddish hair all messed up, and quoted
Easy Rider . ‘I’m not a freak, I just like to freak.’

‘I feel like I’m on drugs,’ I said.

‘Fucking adrenaline, baby.’ His accent was stronger now.

‘Man, I could use a drink.’

‘Glove compartment.’

I flipped it open and found a silver hip flask, unscrewed the cap and took a slug. Vodka burned a molten path down my throat and I coughed, shook my head and handed it to Sean. While he drank I put two of his Marlboros in my mouth and lit them with a match, then stuck one between his lips.

We smoked and sipped in silence for a while, like James Bond and Pussy Galore after a roll in the hay.

‘You need to take a statement from me or something?’ I asked.

‘Why? You weren’t there. And neither of us illegally entered the premises. Right?’

‘Right.’ I tapped the side of my nose and winked.

Sean screwed the cap back on the hip flask. ‘Let’s take a trip to Springvale,’ he said. ‘The Fong Chan travel agency belongs to Wu Chan’s cousin.’

We were parked across the road from Fong Chan Travel, amidst Asian supermarkets, discount stores and hot bread shops. Posters for Hong Kong and Beijing hung in the agency window and a specials board out front was written in Chinese and English. A feng shui charm hung above the door, a red hexagon with a mirror in the middle.

I turned to Sean. ‘Gonna go flash the ID? Demand some answers?’

‘And blow my cover? Shit no. I’m off to the pub on the corner. Jimmy Chiu’s the bartender and what he doesn’t know about Springvale is
worth knowing. Stay put, I’ll be back in a sec.’

I took the vodka out of the glove box, lit another one of his cigarettes and flipped through the CDs. He had everything from Louis Armstrong to Sarah Vaughan, with some modern stuff thrown in: Cat Empire, Chili Peppers, Scissor Sisters. I liked Sean, and it was good to be able to hang out with a guy and not constantly wonder what he’d be like in bed. Not that Sean wasn’t hot, he was, and the accent was sexy as hell, but since he didn’t swing my way it took the pressure right off. Fifteen minutes and one Marlboro light later he slid into the front seat and started up the car. I’d already returned the hip flask, maintaining the illusion I wasn’t an alcoholic.

‘What happened?’ I asked as he pulled into the traffic.

‘He wasn’t talking so I grabbed him by the collar, dragged him over the bar and roughed him up some.’

‘Really?’

‘No. First I pleaded, then I whined, and when that didn’t work I handed over two hundred bucks.’

‘So what’s the story?’

‘Wu’s got a bunch of girls flying in to Tullamarine on Wednesday. Fong Chan travel arranges the flights and the girls come in on tourist visas with male partners so it doesn’t look suspicious. The guys go home a couple of days later and the girls stay on as prostitutes.’

‘Are they aware they’ll be hooking or is it one of those sex slave things?’

‘Don’t know. What I do know is Neville will be looking around for another venue. He’s careful, won’t use the flats since he found us there.’

‘Think he knew who we were?’

‘Wouldn’t know me from a bar of soap but he sure looked like he recognised you.’

‘What now? We were on the Monash Freeway again, heading toward the city.

‘I have to get to work right away, contact immigration and the feds, organise a raid. But where are we going to put you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve already been threatened once. If it was Neville and Craig they’re not going to back off now. Got anywhere you can stay until Wednesday?’

I thought of Chloe’s tiny bedsit in Parkdale. She’d been through enough shit with criminal types last year and didn’t need more heat from me. ‘No . Look, I’ll be fine. I’ve got a new deadlock and—’

‘Stay at my place. I’ve got a spare room and I’m hardly ever home.’

‘You sure?’

‘Of course.
Mi casa su casa
.’

‘Alright.’ I wasn’t so in love with my flat that I’d risk my life just to stay there a couple of nights. Besides, hanging with Sean I’d know exactly what was happening with Neville.

‘Only problem is, you’re going to need someone to escort you back to Elwood for your things. I don’t have time, but Alex should be knocking off and he’s got a spare key to my place.’

‘He won’t do it. He hates me.’

‘He doesn’t hate you. Get him to give me a call. Better still, tell him what happened last night and today. He’ll snap out of it.’

Somehow I doubted that.

The constable at the front desk told me Alex had gone home but I knew where to find him. The usual suspects were at the Waterside Hotel, already surrounded by empty glasses. I marched straight up, torn and mangled, hair all over the shop.

‘Look what the cat dragged in.’ Suzy threw back a scotch.

I ignored her and stood next to Alex. ‘I have to talk to you.

It’s important.’

‘Cop shop’s down the road.’ Alex stared at the wrestling on the big screen TV. ‘Lots of police you can talk to there.’

The fat cop with the comb-over winked. ‘You can talk to me, darlin’, I’m all ears and a lot more besides.’

‘Alex,’ I said. They’re setting up an illegal brothel, Asian sex slaves. Sean and I uncovered it today. He thinks I’m in dang—’

‘What’s the address?’ Fat cop. ‘I feel a bit toey.’

Another one said, ‘Hey, big boy, me love you long time.’

Everyone laughed except Alex. Suzy laughed the loudest. The vodka and adrenaline had worn off and I felt cold, ragged and annoyed.

I stood in front of Alex, blocking his view of the TV. ‘Call Sean and he’ll tell you what happened. I was attacked last night and we were shot at today. He wants you to take me to his house.’

When he didn’t react I said, ‘Okay, just give me the key and tell me the address.’

A hand gripped my upper arm, pulling me back. Suzy was small but she was strong. There was scotch on her breath and steel in her eyes.

‘For the last time, slutbag, stay away from Alex. He’s not fucking interested.’

Slutbag? I tried to shrug her off but she held on tight, fingernails digging in. The other detectives watched with interest.

This was better than the WWF.

‘Let go of me.’ I pushed her and it was all the provocation she needed.

I’d seen bitchfights at my country high school. Girls on the back oval at lunchtime, brawling over some guy. The whole school crowding around to watch as they pulled each other’s hair, scratching and spitting, uniforms riding up. This was nothing like that.

Suzy punched me in the mouth with a left jab, swung a hard right, and I fell to the polished floorboards like a bag of shit.

I lay on the backseat of Alex’s car.

‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ he asked.

‘Three. Ow. Fuck my face hurts.’

‘You’ll be okay. I’ll take you to Elwood, then Sean’s.’

Suzy snorted. She was standing on the footpath, glaring. ‘Can’t you see that’s exactly what she wants? You’re playing right along with her little game.’

‘Give it a rest, Suze. I’m going to make sure she’s alright and persuade her not to press charges. You know what an assault rap can do to your career.’

‘Make sure you don’t accidentally slip your dick in when you’re kissing her goodnight.’ She stalked back into the pub.

‘Suzy doesn’t like me much, does she?’

Alex didn’t answer.

When we got to Fitzroy the sky was indigo and the air smelled of wood smoke. Sean lived in a big terrace off Brunswick Street.

Pink and white daisy bushes rioted in the tiny front yard and ivy climbed a balustrade of rusting wrought iron. Alex let me into a tiled hall and we walked past the stairs and into a ground floor flat.

‘You lie here.’ He steered me to an old couch. ‘I’ll get your bed ready.’

What do you know. All I needed was a head injury for Alex to be nice to me. He opened a built-in cupboard and took a pile of sheets, blankets and pillowcases into the spare room. I put my hands behind my head and checked out Sean’s living area. A speckled countertop separated it from the kitchen, behind which was the spare room, a back balcony remodelled into a sunroom.

Swivelling my head left I saw two doors opposite the couch, presumably Sean’s room and the bathroom.

The place looked like it had been converted to a flat back in the seventies and still had the original ceiling roses and a bay window overlooking the street. Sean’s furniture was mismatched and old, but everything was neat. A big bookcase took up one wall and the others were covered with black and white posters of jazz musicians.

Miles Davis, Billie Holiday, others I didn’t recognise. Another shelf was full of CDs and records. You didn’t see much vinyl these days.

I searched the room and realised he didn’t have a TV. Gosh. What if I wanted to watch Dr. Phil?

Alex came back through the kitchen. ‘All done.’

I hoisted myself into a sitting position. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’

‘I’d better stick around,’ he said. I raised my eyebrows. ‘Just in case you fall over and crack your head on the tiles.’

‘Sure. Want to rustle me up some painkillers?’

I showered, then wiped condensation off the mirror. My lips had puffed up like Angelina Jolie’s and a black line was developing under my left eye. Purple bruises ringed my biceps courtesy of balaclava guy and my limbs were scratched after the escape from Clayton. My head, hell, my whole body ached. I changed into PJs—thin grey trackies and a white singlet and found Alex in the spare room holding a glass of water and two Panadeine Fortes.

I climbed into the single bed. Neatly stacked and labelled boxes crowded the room. A folded ironing board leaned against a wall, and a ten speed bike. Alex reached over and fiddled with the blankets. It took a while to realise he was actually tucking me in.

I swallowed the tablets and handed him the empty glass. ‘How about a real drink?’

‘Not a good idea on top of the painkillers.’

I gave him a look. He went to the kitchen and I heard the freezer door open and ice cubes tinkle on glass. He returned with vodka for both of us and sat on the end of the bed.

I plumped the pillows and sat up. ‘You know I learned more about you talking to Sean today than I have in the last five months.’

‘What did he tell you?’

‘That you’d been to uni, played in the police band.’

Alex shook his head, embarrassed.

‘What did you study at uni?’

‘Criminology. No big deal.’

‘How long have you played piano?’

He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Dunno. Since I was five.’

‘Tell me about your family. Where did you grow up?’

‘Nothing to tell. Grew up in Brunswick. Three brothers, one sister. All these questions. You sound like a shrink.’

‘I have to ask ’cause you don’t tell me a thing.’

‘Play my cards close to my chest. It’s a cop thing.’

‘Sean doesn’t do it.’

‘Sean’s different from most cops.’

‘’cause he’s gay?’

Alex laughed. ‘Sean’s not gay.’

‘What? What about the gym?’

‘He was just fucking with them. Sure, he’s not exactly an alpha male but he’s definitely hetero. Has a lot of gay friends, which is probably how the rumours started, but he doesn’t give a shit what dicks like McPherson think.’

‘You sure?’