Wyatt - 01 - Kick Back (22 page)

Wyatt wasnt surprised to hear
Pedersen lead with this question. He said, Hes dead.

Pedersen seemed to explode. What
about Sugarfoot? Havent you got the bastard yet?

Its all taken care of.

The relief was palpable. Thank
Christ for that. So its over.

We can all go home, Wyatt agreed. Except
Anna. Tell her to wait there for me. Theres a body in her house.

He cut the connection, drove to a
shadowy area between street lights a hundred metres from the safe house, and
waited for Pedersen to come out.

* * * *

Forty-Two

All
the doors and windows of Finns law offices in Quiller Place were locked but
light showed faintly in an office at the side of the old house. Wyatt decided
to wait. If he forced his way in now, hed lose the advantage. And alert the
old people of the street, blinking in the darkness as they waited through the
long night for sleep or death to claim them.

The black Volkswagen was angled
carelessly in the driveway. The drivers door hadnt been locked. Wyatt climbed
into the space behind the front seat to wait. He moved stiffly. His clothes
were a sodden wad at his waist.

It didnt take long. He heard the
expensive lock click home on the front door of the building, heard approaching
footsteps, saw a shape materialise next to the car. The door opened and a bag
was flung onto the passenger seat. Then the car shifted gently on its springs
as Anna Reid got in and Wyatt sat up behind her and pressed his Browning to her
ear.

She stiffened. A moment later she
said his name. She didnt turn around.

Both hands on the wheel, Wyatt
said. Wheres the gun I gave you?

In my coat.

Right pocket?

Yes.

Reach across with your left hand.
Take it out by the barrel and drop it in the bag.

He watched her closely. For the few
seconds her hand was out of sight he ground the Browning against the hinge of
her jaw.

She dropped the gun. How did you
know?

Wyatt was silent. Then he said, Lets
start with the safe. You removed the drugs when Finn went out for coffee on
Friday afternoon?

She laughed harshly. Is this a
grilling? She took one hand from the wheel and gestured with it. Come with
me, Wyatt. The stuff in that bag is worth a fortune.

Wyatt beat the gun barrel against
her cheek. Both hands on the wheel. Answer the question.

She sighed elaborately. When he
went for coffee, yes. Just before you hit the place.

You knew the combination of his
safe?

Ive always known it. When I first
came here, before he started dealing, I found it written down on the side of
his desk drawer one day

It was plausible. Pedersen himself
liked to say that most unexplained safecracking could be traced to people
leaving the combination lying around.

She turned her head slightly. It
wasnt play-acting, you know, me with you.

Forget that, Wyatt said. You left
the cash in the safe and hid, pointing his gun at the bag on the seat beside
her, that crap in your office?

Yes.

Where?

Cant we do this somewhere more
comfortable?

Answer.

I bet you were anal retentive.
Under the tiles in the fireplace. What does it matter where?

You had to leave it there in case
the police searched your place.

Yes.

How did you know when to do the
job?

She breathed in and out heavily. Is
this all necessary? Lets get it over and done with, whatever it is.

Wyatt ground the barrel against her
jaw again. Just answer.

Youre hurting me. When the
pressure didnt relax she went on. When I realised Finn was distributing, I
started watching until Id worked out the pattern. The stuff would arrive late
in the week and all the yuppie dealers in South Yarra would buy from him on the
weekends. So I waited until there was a big planning kickback there at the same
time.

A taxi entered Quiller Place and
drove slowly down it, the driver shining a spotlight at house numbers. Wyatt
pressed the gun warningly against Anna Reids temple and waited while the taxi
stopped and bipped its horn and collected a home-care nurse from one of the
houses.

When it was gone, he said, You didnt
want to risk stealing from him directly. Robbing the safe was a smokescreen.

Yes.

Why didnt you just run with the
stuff that night?

I never intended to run with it. Ive
got a long-term plan. Im going to sell it all slowly, on the quiet.

Wyatt said nothing. The pieces kept
falling into different patterns. Tell me about Pedersen, he said.

What about him?

Was he going to do the selling?

She shook her head. Hes not
involved. I just needed his talents.

Wyatt went cold. This had never been
his job, his plan. It had always been hers. You were taking a risk, he said. You
caused heat for all of us. The sort of people Finn distributes for dont rest
when something like this happens.

Neither spoke for some time. Then
Anna said, You told Max there was a dead man at my place.

There is, but I said it to flush
out Pedersen. I thought he was behind it.

And I came out instead, Anna said,
nodding her head, her glossy hair sliding apart on either side of the pistol
barrel. Who is it? she asked.

Its a professional called Bauer. A
hit-man, somebody who worked for whoever runs Finn.

She shivered. So your friend
Sugarfoot is still out there?

I doubt it. I think both Youngers
are dead. They gave Bauer some names, Bauer tortured Hobba, got your name, and
came looking.

She turned her head a fraction. Tortured?

Wyatt said, This isnt Playschool.

He saw Anna stiffen. Finn will know
about me by now.

Wyatt said bleakly, I wouldnt
worry your pretty head about it. Bauer killed him too. These people get rid of
their liabilities.

She breathed in sharply. I know youre
angry. All I can say is, I wasnt faking it with you.

Wyatt pressed warningly with the
gun. She changed tack immediately. Oh dear, hes in a sulk.

The mocking voice was a tactic. She
would try to get a rise out of him, then, bit by bit, try to turn him. Wyatt
ignored it.

They were silent, then Anna said, Why
did he kill Finn?

He wouldve learned from Hobba that
there were no drugs in the safe, so he thought Finn was trying to pull
something. Finn was already bad news for carrying on his kickback scam on the
sly.

She shivered again. He tortured
Finn too?

Wyatt didnt answer. He wasnt
interested in Finn.

Im glad you got him, Wyatt, Anna
said. She lifted a hand from the steering wheel. Can I put my hands down now?
My arms are aching.

No. Did you kill Pedersen?

God, Wyatt. What do you take me
for? Hes waiting there for you. I told him I was going out for a while.

Last Monday night, Wyatt said, you
came on to me so Id forget my suspicions, right?

No! That part was genuine.

She took her hands off the steering
wheel and turned in her seat and looked at him over the top of it. He leaned
back, still keeping the gun on her. The wound in his side seemed to tear open
and before he could control it, he breathed in sharply and groaned.

Oh, youre hurt, she said. She
reached a hand across the seat. He stared at it. She drew back again.

Then her voice took on its low growl
and her face moved expressively. He remembered how desire had animated it. All
those things you said about working together? she said. We still can. She
picked up the bag on the passenger seat. This would set us up.

Youve been doing fine by yourself.

She put the bag down. We can,
Wyatt. Itll be good. Well have a holiday first. No-one knows anything about
us.

Theres a dead man in your house,
Wyatt said. Youre the partner of a man who was tortured to death. The cops
will find the connection. Id say youre fucked.

If I go down, youll go too. Think
about it. Come away with me, or help me get the body out of my house.

Wyatt watched her for a while. He
felt trapped, and he hated it. One condition, he said. You give up the
drugs. If we plant them at Finns, the cops and whoever Finn worked for wont
look any further.

She frowned at that. He waited. He
heard the safety catch, very faint, as she apparently shifted position to get
more comfortable.

When her face emptied of expression,
he fired through the seat. Anna jerked back in shock and there was a crack as
the windscreen frosted near her head.

I wont give you a second chance,
Wyatt said.

He reached over and dealt her wrist
a numbing blow with the barrel of the Browning. Her .38 fell back in the bag
again. All in all, he thought, hed been a step ahead of her this time. It was
like getting his sight back after a period of blindness. He watched her shake
and moan. Shut up, he said. Youve still got your share of the money.

* * * *

Forty-three

What
now? she asked flatly.

We mop up, he said.

He punched a hole in her shattered
windscreen, gave her the keys to the Hertz Falcon, and told her to follow him
back across the city.

At her house they worked in wary,
hostile silence. She kept tools, ladders, paint, rollers and drop-sheets in her
garden shed. Wyatt wrapped Bauers body in a drop-sheet and she helped him
carry it out to the Falcon. Then she righted her furniture and replaced her
drawers and he mopped up blood, his own and Bauers. Then he mixed plaster from
a packet and plugged bullet holes and gouges in the hallway. Finally he dragged
in a tin of white paint and a stepladder. He felt dangerously light-headed, and
bone tired.

What are you doing? she said.

Not me, Wyatt said. You. Youre
going to paint the hall. Not tomorrow, now.

Now?

You might have visitors in the
morning. If they seem curious, tell them the hold-up upset you, youve been
painting to relax.

Anna Reids face took on a
shut-down, sullen expression. It was still there when Wyatt nodded goodbye and
let himself out the front door.

He drove the Hertz Falcon to Finns
house in Hawthorn. It was a Federation-style house set behind a thick hedge.
Finn was there, a swollen-tongued, leering, trussed-up shape on a king-size
bed. Wyatt unwrapped Bauer and dumped him on the floor next to the bed. He also
dumped the guns. Let the cops work it out. He distributed the coke and heroin
packets behind heating vents, in shoeboxes, and among suitcases in a closet.

Then he left the city, driving the
Hertz Falcon one-handed, his other arm wrapped across his body, his fingers
cupping the wound in his side. Once or twice when he dozed, panicky horns and
headlights warned him back into his lane. Sometimes he found himself driving
very slowly, and in Frankston an angry motorist rapped on his window at a
traffic light. With relief he dumped the Falcon and collected his car and
headed for the back roads.

The sky was black. When moonlight
struggled briefly through the heaped clouds he saw fog wisps like people in the
road ahead. Fog hung over dams and creeks. Otherwise he felt that only he was
abroad, only he awake.

He opened his window and filled his
lungs with cold air. He dare not stop or he would sleep and risk being wakened
by a tap on the glass and voices wanting to know if he was all right, had he
been drinking, had he been in a fight, your licence, please, sir.

When Wyatt reached the coast road he
followed it to Shoreham. He turned inland again, and on the hill slopes he felt
that he was climbing to uninhabited reaches of the world. Then the headlights
picked out his white gate, and narrow muddy drive and the image disappeared and
he knew that in the morning thered be cars going to church, and neighbours
houses in the distance, and everything would be all right.

He reversed into the barn and shut
the heavy doors. It was almost midnight. He was forcing himself now.

Inside the house he burned his
bloodstained clothes and filled the bath with hot water. He washed the wound in
the bath, then soaked for a while, letting the heat ease his knotted muscles.
He got out, dried himself, dressed the wound. He felt mildly feverish. He dosed
himself with brandy and aspirin and leftover antibiotic tablets.

He slept for ten hours. In the
morning it was apparent that hed tossed and perspired during the night. His
pillow was damp, his sheets damp and twisted. He felt scarcely rested, but his
thoughts and perceptions no longer seemed so freakish and he had an appetite.
Before doing anything, he phoned the Drug Squad. He said theyd find something
interesting at the house of David Finn, in Hawthorn. No, he wouldnt give his
name, and he broke the connection before they could trace the call.