52 Waratah Avenue

by Lynne Wilding

  Mate. His thoughts digressed from Michaela for a moment or two. He liked to give people nicknames, always had. Mate for one — they’d known each other since they’d been boys helping their respective fathers do their beer deliveries. Donger was not his number one’s formal name either but, built like the side of a house and with a huge nose, the nick-name Donger had taken and stuck. Earl’s legal name was Reginald, but because he spoke with a plummy English accent, due to winning a few bit parts on the London stage, amongst other things, and had an army background too until he’d been cashiered, he’d coined the name Earl for him.

  He looked at Earl, his group’s number-one tactician. ‘You’re sure about the inheritance and the flying thing? How did you find that out?’

  Earl grinned, pleased by his own resourcefulness. ‘A piece of cake. I bowled up to the Beaumonts’ house, said I was from the Electricity Commission and that we were checking meters and wiring for electrical leaks. You know, a variation on the caper we use when we case a place prior to a robbery. Got the housekeeper, her name’s Daphne, talking. The woman was a mine of information, bloody gabby she was. And if you’re interested, the Beaumont house is ripe for a job. Security stinks, and Daphne and her hubby don’t live in the house — they have a flat somewhere out back. Lots of antiques, Lenny. Probably the old lady, Michaela’s mum, who’s away at present, has a safe in the study or her bedroom. Could have some nice jewellery, they’re a wealthy lot. Got a dog, though, and he’s none too friendly. Nipped me, he did.’

  ‘No-one touches the Beaumont home.’ Lenny’s answer was quick, definite. ‘If you’ve checked out other locations in the street, go ahead and pull a few jobs, but stay away from number fifty-two.’

  ‘Okay. Just doing my job.’

  ‘Thanks for this.’ Lenny got up and walked from the kitchen, taking the folder with him to the bedroom, so he could study it in more detail later. His clothes for tonight’s job were set out on the bed. Everything black, including the shoulder holster that housed his .38 revolver.

  At 10.30 pm the rest of Earl’s group, which included Tomas, Jimmy and Ferdie, arrived for a final briefing, which Earl Conway gave in Lenny’s living room.

  ‘The Ashworths’ warehouse has two security guards. No dogs. One guard is housed in a gatehouse inside the main gate. He’s our first target. We take him out and tie him up, then use his keys to get inside the warehouse. The second guard is located in a room next to the office. The guards are supposed to do internal and external rounds every hour, but the two on tonight — they also work the weekday shift — are lazy buggers.’ He grinned conspiratorially at Lenny. ‘Through infra-reds I’ve watched them knock off a variety of product. They put it in the boot of their cars when no-one’s around to check them. So, we can assume we’re not dealing with the overly honest type who might offer resistance. Those blokes will roll over for us.

  ‘After we’ve neutralised both men, Tomas will bring the first truck in. The guard on the gate has to check in with his off-site security command post every two hours, so we must complete the job in one hour fifty-five minutes, not a minute more. We’ll get one guard to radio in an okay, then take off.’

  ‘Why don’t we do that, then clean the place out? Why do we have to rush off?’ Donger wanted to know.

  ‘There’s a commercial bakery next door to Ashworths. Staff start coming in about 3.30 am. It would look highly suspicious if we’re loading goods when they arrive for work.’

  ‘Earl’s right. We’ve got a list, provided by my mate, and we know the consignment numbers on the various boxes. Do it by the numbers, boys, and we’ll celebrate at The Seaman’s Drift afterwards,’ Lenny said with a confident grin. Earl was the consummate planner and his men were hand-picked and well-trained. He was sure everything would go like clockwork.

  ‘Lenny, what’s yer mate gonna do?’ Donger asked.

  ‘He’ll be the outside lookout. We’re picking him up on the way to the job. We’ll give him the guard’s walkie-talkie and you,’ he pointed to Donger, ‘can keep an eye on him as you supervise the loading.’

  ‘Don’t see that we need him in the first place,’ Donger complained.

  ‘We don’t,’ Lenny agreed. ‘I want him involved, so he knows that if he tries to finger us, he goes down too.’

  Donger and the other men nodded, under standing their boss’s logic.

  The Ashworths’ job was carried out with military precision. Nothing untoward happened except that Lenny’s mate became so nervous he disgraced himself by throwing up over the guard room’s floor.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caroline and Michaela were the first Ashworths’ executives to reach the warehouse after the robbery. As Michaela parked the car both women saw Boris Jakelic talking to an officer, presumably in charge of the investigation. They had been advised by police that the alarm had been raised at 6 am. And, by 7.30, the warehouse was teeming with officers and warehouse employees.

  By 9 am police and warehouse staff had assembled an overview of the robbery: how it was done and what had been stolen. Boris came into the main office to report to Michaela and Caroline, who’d been joined by Warren Tremayne.

  ‘The police believe it was highly professional, the job planned down to the last detail. Someone had cased the place, knew the movements of the security guards,’ Boris told them. ‘They had an inventory of stock, which means staff could be involved, and they only took items they could dispose of easily on the black market. The police have come across other jobs in Sydney over several years with a similar modus operandi, but haven’t been able to get a line on the culprits. They have a couple of suspects, though, and will check them out.’

  ‘Were either of the guards hurt?’ Caroline enquired.

  ‘The one at the gate has a nasty bump on his head. They took him by surprise, knocked him out, then tied and gagged him. The guard in the warehouse was just tied and gagged,’ Boris told them.

  ‘What did they take?’ Warren asked.

  ‘Here.’ Boris handed over a list made out by the warehouse manager. ‘The list’s not complete, but the manager says it’ll give you an overview of what was targeted.’

  ‘Could it be the same thieves that stole from the wharves?’ Michaela asked intuitively as she studied the list.

  ‘That’s a possibility, the officer in charge said. He reckons it’d be too much of a coincidence for it to be another gang.’

  ‘Spring is only a few weeks away and finding replacement goods to stock Ashworths’ shelves, at short notice, is going to be almost impossible.’ Caroline bemoaned what was a fact. Michaela and Warren nodded in agreement.

  ‘As soon as we’re back at the store, we’ll call a merchandising meeting. I want staff to start ordering replacement stock straight away, from whatever manufacturers we can get onside,’ Warren said decisively. ‘Thank God, they didn’t strip the warehouse. That would have been disastrous. As it is, it’s bad but salvageable.’

  Caroline looked at Warren and smiled, though after this morning’s events, she didn’t feel like it. She liked his positive attitude; it reminded her of her late stepfather. Jack Beaumont wouldn’t have let such a setback stop him, he’d have found a way around it. They would too. Still … this on top of the shares situation!

  She had found out more since being alerted by the article in the Saturday Herald, and Nick had fossicked around and discovered some disquieting information which she hadn’t shared with anyone yet. Now, with the robbery, she could have been excused for thinking that an unknown party, either someone in the company or an outsider, was trying to sabotage Ashworths. If so, who and why?

  ‘I suppose we won’t be able to keep it out of the papers.’ Michaela’s tone was glum.

  They had seen a journalist and a photographer prowling around, asking questions. Someone would get a nice spotter’s fee for having tipped off the newspaper.

  ‘Unfortunately, no.’ Boris’ shoulders lifted fatalistically, in European style.

  Caroline took that on
board without comment, but she thought publicity could lead to more share sell-offs. She had to share what she knew with someone …

  On the return drive from the Alexandria warehouse to the city, Caroline decided to take the plunge and confide in Michaela.

  ‘Nick’s company secretary, Vince Lee, has done a thorough job. He should have been a PI.’ Caroline’s tone was dry as she gave a shocked-into-silence Michaela a rundown on what Nick had told her. ‘Two companies, just $2.00 shelf companies, have been buying up Ashworths’ shares as they become available. One’s named Micronita Pty Ltd and the other The Brothers Inc. Vince said they have no “real” business address, just a post office box at the GPO and The Brothers box is at Strawberry Hills. Between them and a few minor speculators, they’ve picked up almost fifteen per cent of company shares.’

  ‘Fifteen per cent! That’s no threat, surely?’ Michaela said, though her usual vibrancy was subdued. ‘They could just be speculating.’

  ‘They could be,’ Caroline agreed. ‘We don’t know and Vince couldn’t learn any more than that about them. But you do see the potential danger if more shares come onto the market … ? And after this latest theft and the ensuing publicity, who knows how many investors will choose to bail out. They could build their share to twenty per cent.’

  ‘So what? The Beaumonts own forty per cent and the McRaes fifteen. When needed, we’ve always voted as a block, which still gives us a controlling vote on company decisions.’

  ‘I know. That’s another aspect of the puzzle. What do Micronita and The Brothers hope to gain?’

  ‘Could they know something we don’t know?’ Michaela feigned light-heartedness. ‘Maybe Ashworths’ shares are going to rocket in the next twelve months.’

  ‘I’d like to think that was it, but I have this … I don’t know …’ Caroline paused for reflection, hesitant to say it out loud, ‘ … a feeling, a premonition that Ashworths is in for some bad times.’

  Michaela chuckled, amused by her sister’s negativity. She’d never thought Caroline a worrier, not even when she was splitting up with Nick, but she could see that her sister was concerned. The advantage of youth and the belief that she and the company were indestructible made her discount her older sister’s concerns. Ashworths was financially solid and, when the board adopted her plan to rejuvenate the main store, their share price would improve, definitely. If she were the gambling type, she’d put money on it. As they travelled towards the Pitt Street store she thought that because Caroline had confided in her, now might be the right time to divulge her 18 to 28 concept.

  She did and, when Caroline expressed interest, she invited her to her office to view the overall plan, after extracting her promise to keep quiet about it until she scheduled a meeting with the board of directors.

  Since her late teens Michaela had made a point of attending the annual air show at the RAAF base at Richmond — the event was so different from her normal work routine at Ashworths. There had been a momentary disappointment when Leith had had to cancel out on going with her —he had an urgent brief to attend to — but she would meet him for dinner that night and was already looking forward to that. At Richmond she enjoyed rubbing shoulders, albeit anonymously, with members of the general public, pilots, aeroplane manufacturers, but the part she enjoyed the most was checking out the new small planes, made by several manufacturers, which came onto the market each year.

  As an aeronautics team zoomed overhead, performing stunts for the pleasure of those with their gazes fixed on the sky, Michaela and her ex-instructor, Rod O’Malley, walked around, inspecting the latest Lear jet on the tarmac.

  ‘A bit out of our price range, I reckon,’ Rod said, tongue in cheek.

  ‘It’s nice to dream but, even if I could afford it, I couldn’t justify its expense. I just wouldn’t use it enough.’

  ‘Not unless you left the retail business and started your own flying business.’

  She chuckled and shook her head at the stocky, redheaded man. ‘I don’t think that’s likely.’ She knew where her future lay, solidly with Ashworths.

  They proceeded on to the next exhibit …

  Lenny Kovacs elbowed his way through the crowd towards the man with ginger hair — he’d asked an official who he was — and the woman. His sunglasses hid the expression in his grey eyes and allowed him to look his fill of Michaela Beaumont as he approached. God, she looked stunning in that midnight-blue pants suit and the long white silk scarf draped around her neck. The suit appeared to have been hand-tailored for her and clung suggestively, accentuating her curves in all the right places. What a body! His fingers twitched from a near-overwhelming urge, they wanted to touch her so much. Disgusted with himself, he thrust the spasming digits into his trouser pockets.

  One day … With an iron will he schooled his body not to react to her but, Christ Almighty, it was bloody hard and doing so almost shredded his considerable self-control.

  From the gabby Beaumont housekeeper, on a ‘pretend’ re-visit to the home in Waratah Avenue, Earl had learned what Michaela’s movements were for the weekend and that when at the air show she always met up with her flying instructor. Earl had cunningly prised the man’s name out of the housekeeper and Lenny had spoken to O’Malley, organising a time for them to meet at the air show on the pretext of hiring a small plane to fly him to selected country towns in New South Wales.

  He grunted with amusement as he drew closer to Michaela and O’Malley. Sometimes the level of his own deviousness amazed even him. Small planes and confined spaces reminded him too vividly of the prison cell he’d once called home and made him nauseous, but it was one way to formally meet Michaela. And, if he played it right, have her to himself so she could get to know Lenny Kovacs, wealthy businessman and good guy. He chuckled again at the thought. Not many of his associates and others on the wrong side of the law would consider him a good guy, but if that’s what it took to impress her, then that’s what he’d be.

  ‘Rod O’Malley?’ Lenny enquired as he came up to the man and Michaela. ‘Lenny Kovacs. We spoke on the phone yesterday.’ He pumped the man’s proffered hand vigorously.

  Michaela decided to leave the men to their business. ‘Bye, Rod. We’ll talk later.’ She had to get back to the city anyway for a late dinner date with Leith. She was looking forward to that, very much. Leith was, she was finding each time they were together, a man who was difficult, no, impossible to put out of one’s mind for very long.

  ‘Haven’t we met before, Miss …?’ Lenny made his tone casual and curious. He went to touch her arm, but changed his mind. Too personal, too soon. ‘I’m sure we have. Somewhere.’

  Michaela shook her head. She gave the stocky businessman in his three-piece, well-cut suit a second glance. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Lenny pretended to ponder over it. ‘Yes, I remember. A few weeks ago … We bumped into each other, literally, in Pitt Street, near Ashworths. You and your companion were hurrying to a show. You hurt your ankle, if I recall correctly. Lenny Kovacs’ the name. I gave you my business card.’

  Michaela struggled to recall the incident. Yes! That had been her first date with Leith. The show at the Royal and afterwards a sumptuous supper at the Regent. They’d had a wonderful time together, got along really well. It had been the first of many dates, with each one becoming more loaded with sexual tension than the last.

  A heated flush ran through her as she recalled them. With an inward groan, she pulled her thoughts back to the present. She did remember the little man. He had almost knocked her for a six and Leith had been put out because she might have been hurt. So sweet of him! ‘Oh, I do recall now.’

  ‘Your ankle, it’s okay?’

  ‘What!’ She frowned at him, her thoughts still back on that first date with Leith. ‘Yes, of course. No problem.’

  ‘Good. Learning to fly, are you?’

  ‘Michaela’s one of my graduates. She’s had her pilot’s licence for about two years now,’ Rod told Lenny as he grinned at Michaela
. ‘She’s a fully fledged pilot with about one hundred and fifty hours of flying experience.’

  ‘Really!’ Lenny lifted an eyebrow at her and enquired, ‘May I call you Michaela?’

  ‘I guess so,’ she said offhandedly, while mentally asking why was she wasting time talking to this insignificant man, who obviously had business with Rod, when she could be on her way to see Leith.

  ‘You know, once I lease a plane, I’ll be looking for a pilot,’ Lenny said off the cuff. ‘Perhaps you’d be interested, seeing you’re licensed?’

  ‘It could be to your advantage, Michaela. You could log up more flying time,’ Rod put in, unknowingly enhancing Lenny’s scheme.

  ‘I don’t think so … I can only manage weekend flights and, really, I was thinking of leasing a plane myself, until I buy one.’

  Lenny jumped on that. ‘That’s exactly what I need. Like you, I’m too busy with business during the working week, so someone who’s available on weekends would suit me fine.’ His gaze moved to Rod. ‘We could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Rod could lease the plane to my company and you could fly me wherever I wanted to go, probably every second weekend. When I don’t want to use it on weekends, you’d be welcome to use it yourself. What do you say?’

  Michaela studied Lenny cautiously but, contrarily, he had roused her curiosity. ‘I’m not sure, Mr …?’

  ‘Call me Lenny, everybody does. You want a plane and to clock up more flying time. I need a plane and a pilot. Sounds like a good business arrangement to me.’ He threw out the bait with a disarming smile.

  She shook her head, thinking, she didn’t know this man. He could be a maniac, a pervert … And she’d be alone in a plane with him.

  Lenny watched her face. Her thoughts were so transparent. ‘Look, Michaela, I understand your reluctance. I’m a stranger to you. You have reservations, that’s understandable. Tell you what, think about it for a few days, a week maybe, and we’ll meet for coffee. Here’s my card. Have your secretary, or your friend — the man you were with — do a reference check on me.’ He already knew that Danvers was a lawyer, but long ago he’d established an identity for himself as Lenny Kovacs, Managing Director of Plan Early Pty Ltd, which would stand up to reasonable, if not close, scrutiny. ‘You’ll find that I’m a reputable businessman.’