Cassidy

by Morris West

  ‘The Commissioner is God!’ said Baby-Face piously. ‘Whatever he says, I do.’ To me he said with a grin, ‘Be careful in Thailand, Mr. Gregory. I spent a year on assignment there. It used to be a fun place. Now it’s almost as dangerous as Sydney. See you in the morning, gentlemen!’

  When he had gone, Rebus helped me lock the documents in the safe, then walked me down to his club for a drink. He repeated an earlier proposition.

  ‘I told you I’d show you the underside of the town. Why not tonight?’

  ‘Why not? Let me call Laura and tell her I won’t be back this evening. What about your wife?’

  ‘I don’t have a wife,’ said Arthur Rebus. ‘She died five years ago. Since then I’ve been a freelance. Besides, there’s nothing too glamorous in what I want to show you.’ He signalled the waiter for another round of drinks. ‘Of course, nothing exists here on the scale of crime in the United States: the drug traffic in Florida and the West Coast, the power of the Syndicates; but for a new, young country, with only fifteen million people in it, we’ve got more than our share of very shrewd criminals. I’d like to have your reaction to what you’ve seen since you’ve been back – and what I want to show you tonight… You’re a real chameleon. Just when I think I’ve got you measured and colour-graded, you change.’

  ‘No mystery, Mr. Rebus. Protective pigmentation, that’s all.’

  ‘I wish I could believe it, Mr. Gregory. One moment you flare up like a furnace. The next you’re pissing ice-water. It bothers me. I like to have a consistent reading on my clients.’

  I knew what he was driving at. I was hard put to explain it.

  ‘…The problem is that I’m not sure whether I belong here any more. I’ve been in exile a long time. I’m not sure how much I’m prepared to commit to the country. I’ve developed a very comfortable sense of detachment. I’m in the banking business and money knows no frontiers. I’m angry that Cassidy dragged me back and embroiled me so deeply with people and matters I’d prefer to ignore. Then I ease down and think: “Take the money and run. What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba?” When I wake next morning and look across the water, I’m mad again, because this beautiful bloody country is being made a prey to crooks.’

  ‘But you’re not sure you want to do anything about it?’

  ‘Not yet. No.’

  ‘Well…’ said Arthur Rebus softly. ‘Well, well, well! Let’s finish our drinks and start our little tour. My driver’s waiting for us in the car park.’

  As a tour guide, Arthur Rebus was original, not to say eccentric. It was six-thirty when we left the club. Homing traffic was still thick on all the arteries, but Rebus had his driver take a long swing through the densest areas, while he regaled me with a list of Sydney’s more recent murders.

  ‘See that pond in the park? They’ve fished two bodies out of there in the last few months. One was a man. He’d been shot once in the back of the head. The other was a woman slated as a witness in an upcoming drug case. She was spiked with an overdose of heroin… That hotel on the corner, the big Edwardian building… Fellow who owned it was a local identity, hail-fellow-well-met, president of the football club, clean record. One day a group of Vietnamese approached him. They’d like to run a restaurant upstairs in the old dining-room. He refused. They pressured him some more. He still refused. They shot him and dumped his body in the street. That’s just a symptom of the rise of Asian standover crime…’ In the next suburb the driver slowed down at the corner of a cul-de-sac. Rebus rolled down the window. ‘Look to your left. You can see stains on the roadway. A car was burned out there a couple of weeks ago. A charred body was found in the trunk. That was a race-fixing job. The Commissioner mentioned a similar case in Frenchs Forest. Same method, different reason… That house over there, impressive isn’t it? Built like a fortress, with every security device known to man. The owner’s a professional assassin, a hit man; but he hasn’t been seen for months. Hot rumour says he’s dead… These are all recent happenings, indirectly connected with the fact that Cassidy was losing his grip. He couldn’t hold the lid on the pot…’

  ‘That surprises me. He told me in London that his illness attacked fairly suddenly. Until then he was functioning pretty well.’

  ‘It wasn’t his health,’ said Arthur Rebus flatly. ‘The game had got too big. I never quite understood how big until I started working through those files with you… You’d think that anyone who controlled half a billion in liquid funds, as Cassidy did, could call his own tune in any market… For a while, obviously that’s what he did in Thailand. With Marius Melville as an ally, secure sources of supply and safe transport routes, he was top of the heap. But he couldn’t stay there. There was too much junk in the market. It was coming in from all over the place and suddenly there were more chiefs than Indians – Pakistanis, Lebanese, Turks, Viets and, of course, the Chinese. Cassidy’s deal – limited supply, high returns, monopoly market – just wouldn’t stick any more. A bent cop could shop around the gangs for the best retainer. Cassidy’s control of the lawmen started slipping too… So the gang bosses started their own campaign of enforcement, with the same ritual elements – the shot to the back of the head, small-calibre weapon or, with the women, the spike, a lethal overdose of heroin… Over there, by the way, is our best known brothel. High-profile advertising, aimed at the visiting firemen. It’s also where a lot of pretty girls get started on the drug habit – and end up a few years later on the street, peddling themselves for a fix.’

  ‘The way you describe them, things are completely out of hand.’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Arthur Rebus calmly. ‘The game’s getting rough, but violence tends to be self-limiting. Big criminals are realists. They know the public and the press will only take so much disorder… They want to damp it down.’

  ‘And what will the new Government do about it?’

  ‘Let’s be precise.’ Rebus made the point with some emphasis. ‘It’s not a new Government. It’s the same one – with a new Premier and a new Cabinet. They’re all Cassidy minions, of course; but if they can live down their past, they may make some changes for the better. Loomis can be as slippery as an eel, but he’s tough too. Rumour has it that he’s already looking for a reformer to head up the police force. He’s got pressure from all sides: the churches, community groups, the wiser heads in the Party… We’ll stop here and take a stroll…’

  The stroll took us through a series of alleys and arcades, just off the main thoroughfare of Kings Cross, which is the most densely populated square mile in the southern hemisphere. In contrast with the bustle and the bright lights a few paces away, the alleys had a furtive and defeatist air and the young or nearly young who congregated there were, for the most part, addicts or peddlers on the prowl.

  Arthur Rebus said quietly, ‘…This is Desperation Street, cheapest place in town to buy a body, male or female. You’ll notice there’s not a policeman in sight. What good would they do? They could make twenty busts an hour and fill the holding cells with kids who’ll be screaming their heads off for a fix before midnight. They could pick up the peddlers and sweat ’em for information on their sources; but the peddlers know that they’ll end up with a bullet in their heads if they open their mouths – and sometimes the man who shops them is a police officer who gets paid in cash and powder. You think this is bad…’ he kicked an empty syringe into the gutter, ‘but there’s a corner like this in every big country town. In every suburb there’s a milk bar or a pizza joint that peddles the hard stuff. As for marijuana, God knows how many acres there are under cultivation in agricultural areas and in clearings in the rain forests… Enough, anyway, to prove that Cassidy’s theory of an acceptable balance of natural force’s was a nonsense,… though I’d agree that, at one time, he might have believed it… Seen enough? Then let’s walk a couple more blocks and have dinner at Rosa’s. The food’s great. I hope all this hasn’t spoiled your appetite.’

  I was already engulfed in a black depression and it took a hefty martin
i to jolt me out of it. The ambience helped too; spotless linen, low lights, fine crystal and a smiling padrona who had once been a film star in Rome and who cosseted Arthur Rebus as if he were her new leading man. She was amiable to me also and she walked us through the menu like a tour guide in love with her territory.

  By the time we were wined and fed, we were both agreeably mellow. Arthur Rebus said, ‘…I was going to take you round to a few late-night joints; a gambling club, a disco where, if you’re a cash client and kosher, you can buy any narcotic you name… But hell, it’s just more of the same. You can do the essential mathematics in your head. Crime in this country is a multi-billion dollar industry that touches everyone’s life… even mine, Mr. Gregory!’

  ‘I quote your words to the Commissioner, Mr. Rebus. In the law, you can’t expect to deal all the time with virgins.’

  He gave me a long, hostile look and then said coldly, ‘Five years ago, my wife was shot dead in our own house by an intruder. He was sixteen years old, strung out and crazy for a fix.’

  ‘Oh Christ! I’m sorry!’

  ‘It’s all right. I’m over it now. It only hurts when it rains… But that’s why I took you on, Martin Gregory – to see if I could seduce you onto the side of the angels.’

  ‘Do you think I need to be seduced?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you. Are you going to tell me more about this seduction business? Once you got me into bed with the angels, what exactly would you expect me to do?’

  ‘Start thinking about other people instead of yourself and this… this shabby vendetta with a dead man!’

  ‘For instance… ?’

  ‘For instance, this afternoon. Sergeant Donohue warned you that Möller might come gunning for you, once he discovered he’d got glucose instead of heroin.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘You’re protected. The woman’s not. Is that fair?’

  ‘The decision was taken out of my hands.’

  ‘She trusted us. We put her at risk. How will you feel if she turns up dead in Bangkok?’

  “Why should she?’

  ‘Because that’s the way the game is played. You default, you die.’

  ‘I’ll call the Commissioner in the morning and argue it out with him. After all, nothing irrevocable will have been done until you deliver the stuff to Standish and Waring.’

  ‘And if he still makes difficulties?’

  ‘I’ll take a trade. He wants me to deliver Cassidy’s network. My price is Pornsri Rhana.’

  ‘Why not call him now?’ said Arthur Rebus. ‘I’ve got his private number. Rosa will let you use the phone in her office.’

  ‘You had this all set up for me, didn’t you?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, yes.’

  ‘Then forget the brandy and order me some coffee in the office. I’m going to need a clear head for this one.’

  The Commissioner was in bed when I called. He was brusque and not at all disposed to change his mind. He pointed out that to traffic in hard drugs was a felony, that the street value of a kilo of pure heroin was astronomical and that Pornsri Rhana was in fact a trafficker who was getting away scot-free. Once she was out of his jurisdiction it was good riddance to bad rubbish…

  That set me back on my heels for a few moments and I regretted the good wine I had drunk. Then the adrenalin started to flow and I gave him my argument. He wanted Cassidy’s trading network. Pornsri Rhana was the key to it. She was the lynchpin that held the Europeans and the Asians together. We needed her alive. The only way to ensure that was to make the full delivery to Erhardt Möller, by way of Standish and Waring. It should not be beyond the skill of the Federal Police to monitor the transmission of the material from lawyer to client.

  It took me fifteen minutes of steady argument to convince him: but it was by no means an unconditional surrender. He told me flatly, ‘You owe me, Mr. Gregory. I’ll want payment in full – with interest.’

  ‘You’ll get it, Commissioner. God knows how, but you’ll get it.’

  When I returned to the table, Arthur Rebus was nursing another large brandy. When I told him the news he grinned at me like a Cheshire cat and said a little thickly, ‘You see. You’ve really got a good heart, Martin. The problem is to get you mad enough at someone else besides Cassidy.’

  When I got back to the hotel at twenty after midnight, the concierge handed me a telex:

  LEONIDAS AND I TAKING CHILDREN BACK TO LONDON TO BEGIN SCHOOL ON MONDAY. PAT STAYING ANOTHER WEEK IN KLOSTERS. PLEASE GET HOME AS SOON AS YOU CAN. WE ALL MISS YOU. LOVE, CLARE.

  In Klosters it was twenty after two in the afternoon. I called the house. It was the cook who answered. Her English was heavily accented but quite intelligible. Mrs. Gregory was out skiing. She was not expected back until late afternoon.

  15

  I spent a miserable night, kept awake by an overdose of coffee and alcohol, plagued by fits of jealousy and anger, sweating through patches of haunted sleep. At five in the morning I got up, put on a track suit and set out to jog a three-mile circuit round the harbour fringe and back, through the quiet suburban streets to the Melmar. At seven-thirty I rang Klosters again. It was nine-thirty in the evening there. A manservant answered. Mrs. Gregory was dining out. She was not expected back until midnight. I left a message asking her to call me at the bank, no matter what hour she came in.

  By the time Laura Larsen arrived for breakfast I was shaved, showered and half way human. I was also determined to discharge Cassidy’s business in short order and go home. Clare Cassidy was a clever woman. She had put out the warning flags and I would be a fool not to respond to them.

  I asked Laura: ‘When is your father expected in Bangkok?’

  ‘Today, I believe.’

  ‘Can you get your travel people to switch my air and hotel bookings from Sunday to Saturday, then telex your father and tell him my change of plans?’

  ‘I’ll do it, of course; but why the hurry?’

  ‘Something’s come up. I need to get back to London as quickly as possible.’

  She set down her coffee cup, called the travel desk and asked for immediate action on my request. Then she sat down and reached out to touch my cheek. She said, gently, ‘You’re very sombre this morning. Is something wrong?’

  ‘I had a bad night – too much wine, too much coffee and a rather depressing evening with Arthur Rebus.’

  When I told her about it she was angry and scornful.

  ‘…So what was he trying to prove? Sydney’s a rough and raunchy town? There are wild women and nasty men and the crime bosses run the mobs by their own rules? So what’s new? What about New York, Miami, Naples, Houston, Texas, for God’s sake? He’s brainwashing you! They all are! It’s the elementary technique – make the victim feel shame and guilt. A little way down the track they’ll have you believing you spiked the girl in the pond… or dealt with junk in Kings Cross. Come on, Martin, this is too much already! You’ve got to make your own decisions, do things because you want them.’

  Whereupon I did just that. I got up, lifted her to her feet and kissed her, long and hard. She surrendered slowly, then the kissing went on for a long time.

  Then, very gently, she pushed me away and said, ‘I wonder what brought that on?’

  ‘I hate scolding women – especially at breakfast.’

  ‘Ah!’ She gave me a little crooked smile. ‘And I hate to catch a man on the rebound from a wife.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I was in the telex room when the message came in addressed to you. I’m a nosey bitch. I read it. I’d have been angry, too, if it had been addressed to me.’

  ‘So now what?’

  ‘I’d like to even the score and kiss you.’ This time the kiss lasted longer, but some of the magic was gone and what was left was a heady mixture of desire and calculation and the bitter-sweet revenges of jealousy. While she was rearranging her hair and putting on fresh lipstick, she gave me another surprise.

 
‘I’ve decided to come to Bangkok with you. After all, I have a big stake in what’s decided between you and my father.’

  ‘Does your father know this?’

  ‘I’ll tell him when I telex your new arrival time.’

  ‘And he’ll approve?’

  ‘Why should he not? He made me your guardian angel. And I have been an angel, Martin, haven’t I? Much more than I wanted to be… No! No! No more games. I’ve got to meet a conference planner from a big insurance group, punctually at nine. But tonight we do have dinner, yes?’

  It was only after she had gone that I remembered. Pornsri Rhana was leaving for Bangkok on Saturday. There was only one flight on that day, so it would be impossible for the two women not to meet. I wondered whether I should give them both fair warning. On second thoughts, I decided against it. A little black comedy might enliven the life of Martin the Righteous.

  Half an hour later, at the bank, I told Arthur Rebus about the message from Klosters and my decision to leave early for Thailand and afterwards head back to Europe. From the moment of my departure he would be in full charge of the probate decisions, the disposition of all Cassidy’s records, with the exception of the microfiches which I was taking with me. He was not a happy man…

  ‘…The probate is routine. We’re well advanced with inventory. My people have checked through the documents annexed to the will and the Australian trust deeds. There’s no real problem. The tax people will have to be satisfied, of course, but I don’t foresee too many hitches. Cassidy was, after all, a very tidy lawyer. The stuff from the safe is a different matter. There’s a stack of gold bars, all the account books, the porno photographs and a miscellany of hot documents. I can see an unholy row brewing between the State and Federal authorities about possession of all that stuff. With Gerry Downs’ articles in publication, any leak could bring down the Government. So I’ll have to sort out that little mess the best way I know how. It’s the situation in Switzerland that concerns me.’