They could try lifting him off the street, take him back to the workshop, do it there. Get some answers then disappear him. It would mean surprising him somewhere quiet. Maybe near the retirement village – seemed like he visited his mother a lot. It would need three people: two with guns to take him and one driving. Jimmy and Matt? They’d fucked up with the old woman. Could he trust them? Did he really need to question Lawrence? Why not just kill the prick? Do it in the street, send a message to whoever. Motorbike and a sawn-off. Close range, make a mess of him. Pull up beside him when he’s getting out of his ute. One barrel to put him down, one to finish him. Simple, don’t try to get too fancy. Large finished off his drink and looked around the lounge. It was after three now, and the bar was empty except for him. He’d do the job himself, he had a sawn-off, all he needed was a bike, something quiet but fast.
John chose an internet café above a gift shop in Newtown. He bought a bottle of water and an hour of credit from the bored-looking Chinese guy at the counter. The place was nearly empty, just a couple of young women next to each other at the front. Backpackers, he presumed. John settled down at a computer with a view of the stairs that led down to the street and the door to the toilet. He read a couple of online news services until one fifteen. Then he opened up an obscure restaurant review blog and left a comment on the latest post, mentioning how good the smoked trout had been last time he had been to whatever the restaurant was. Ten minutes later the next comment appeared. John used the name on that comment to set up a new email account. He logged out, waited five minutes and logged back in. There was a message from Smokey in the drafts folder.
~that you bastard
John opened the message and typed ‘yeah’ before re-saving the draft message and logging off. He waited another two minutes before logging back on and checking the draft message.
~long time
it is
~you ok
yeah but i need a favour
~what
gat 9 compact
~trouble
risk management
~usp ok
clean
~yeah
how much
~5k
kidding
~what it costs
how soon
~where
syd
~thursday
ok 3k
~fuck off
3.5
~4
ok
~cunt
love you 2
Pike came for him as he came out of the pub. Large paused on the footpath, putting his sunglasses on against the bright afternoon sunlight. A black van pulled into the kerb, its side door sliding open before it had stopped. At the same time both his arms were grabbed and he was thrust towards the door. Large managed to get his feet onto the door sill, tried to use his legs to throw his body backwards, but one of the men kidney punched him. Large twisted with the pain and felt his legs collapse. They flipped him onto his face, driving him into the hard metal corrugations on the floor. The impact pushed the sunglasses into his face, snapping them in two. Blood filled his nose and his mouth. He was dazed and in pain. When he managed to focus his eyes, all he could see was a small stainless steel screw lying in one of the floor channels. The van began to move. Large knew he had to get out. He gave a roar and pushed himself back and up. Three sets of boots immediately started kicking at his head and ribs. His arms were pulled back behind him and he felt cold metal on his neck. “Stop wriggling, Mr Piggy, or this ends now.” It was Pike. Large was definitely going to have to kill the cunt. He lay still, trying to stay calm, trying to think. They threw a blue poly tarp over him and Large lay in the weird blue gloom with the metal ribs of the floor biting into his knees and elbows. Every bump added to his pain and anger. At first he thought he could tell the direction they were travelling, but after a couple of turns he had no idea. Eventually they got onto a fast road with no turns or stops, one of the motorways, Large guessed. Heading out of town.
Pike and his men didn’t talk much. They knew where they were going and what they were doing. They had probably done it before.
The van veered left off the motorway, and slowed. They were on a winding road now, going up and down hills, the driver having to change gears frequently. Large lost track of time until the van turned sharply and bumped up a short ramp. It got darker under the tarp just before the van stopped. He heard and felt the side door sliding open. Hands grabbed him and the tarp and dragged him out. He landed hard on a concrete floor, but they continued to drag him away from the van. The tarp came off and he blinked in the harsh flat light of overhead fluorescents. It was some kind of warehouse. There was a smell, not strong, but familiar. It took him a moment to realise it was the smell of fresh meat. A butchery. The concrete floor was painted white. There were large floor-mounted machines around the walls, and above him were steel rails with hooks for the carcasses.
Large tried to stand up, but a kick to his knee quickly put him back on the floor. He lay on his back and looked up at the four men standing around him. Pike, the two tattooed wonders who had come to his house and a skinny one with a goatee. Probably the driver. No one said anything for a moment, then Pike spoke. “I hear you’ve been telling tales about me.”
Mick Cole must have said something. Whatever he’d said, it obviously hadn’t been well received. Large lay still, watching Pike. His nose was blocked with dried blood and his mouth was dry.
“Nothing to say now, Mr Piggy?” said Pike. “You were pretty cocky at your place and pretty talkative to Cole.” Pike nodded to one of the tattoo twins and Large felt another kick to his ribs. He gasped with the pain that tore through his side as ribs broke.
“I didn’t—” Blood filled Large’s mouth. He gagged and rolled onto his side, spitting blood and mucus onto the floor. He tried again. “I didn’t know the guy was connected. I checked – no one I asked knew him.”
“I know,” said Pike. “If I thought you’d done it knowing he was with my sister, you’d be dead by now.” He started to walk, circling around Large. “The problem is that you did beat him up. He may be a fuckwit but he’s my sister’s fuckwit. And you put a gun on me. That was a big mistake.” Pike swung a kick at him. Large tried to grab the foot, but Pike was too fast. He landed the kick to Large’s ribs, danced out of range of his flailing arms, then came back in, planting a stomping kick on his upturned face.
Large’s head felt as if it had exploded with lights and pain. Then someone kicked him in the balls. He vomited, retching uncontrollably, writhing on the floor. He tried to curl into a ball to protect himself from the storm of blows that fell on him from all sides. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. His eyes were full of blood but he didn’t pass out. He felt it all.
Eventually the kicking stopped. Large sobbed and choked on his own blood. All that was left was pain and hatred. Someone played a water hose over him, running the stream up and down his body. The water cleared the blood from his eyes. He watched water and blood flow across the floor and circle a grated drain before disappearing. When the hose was turned off, cold added itself to the list of his pains.
Pike stepped back into Large’s field of vision, staring down, his head haloed by a fluorescent light tube. “That’s the entertainment over with, now down to business.” He smiled and waited but Large had nothing to say. “Alright,” Pike went on, “you owe me fifty K for beating up the fuckwit boyfriend.” He squatted down beside Large’s head. “But for putting a gun on me,” he said softly, “I’m going to take your trigger finger.” He stood up again and moved over to a big electric bandsaw. It shuddered to life when Pike pressed the power button, then settled into a well-balanced high-pitched hum. Pike picked a large beef bone out of a bucket beside the machine and held it up for Large to see. When he put the bone to the blade, the saw’s hum changed to an angry scream as it ripped through the length of the bone.
Pike dropped the bones back into the bucket. “I bet you wish you’d pulled that trigger now, hey?�
� he said.
Large didn’t move, didn’t respond, just lay shivering on the concrete floor. He focused on the pain, exploring it, analysing it. Owning it.
Pike looked disappointed. “Get the fat cunt up here. Joe, you hold his legs.”
Three of them picked Large up off the floor and dumped him face down on a long metal trolley. Large tried to move but their fingers dug into his flesh, holding him fast. He concentrated on breathing, keeping it shallow, keeping it steady. In, then out. Nice and smooth, trying to avoid the stabbing spasms that movement sent slashing through his body. They wheeled him over to the saw.
“Nothing to say?” said Pike. “I’m disappointed. You’re usually so talkative.” He grabbed Large’s right hand by the wrist and straightened out his index finger. “I’d curl those other fingers up if I was you. Don’t want to lose more than you need to.” He moved Large’s hand toward the thin metal blade that was turning so fast it was just a blur.
Large twisted and tried to pull his arm back. A punch to his ribs sent pain screaming from his chest to his core. Pike held Large’s wrist in one hand and his finger in the other and began sliding them toward the blade.
“Wait, just wait!” Large screamed.
Pike turned his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You said business—” A coughing fit wracked Large, unleashing new dimensions of pain. When the spasms subsided he spat blood and a tooth onto the metal trolley.
Pike waited patiently, tightening his grip. “Yeah, business. Fifty K, and the finger. Weren’t you listening?”
“Guns.” Large’s voice was a faint croak. “Machine guns.”
Pike bent down beside Large’s head. “What are you talking about, fat man?”
“Machine guns, I can get them.”
“Of course you can. The usual homemade pieces of shit, no doubt. No thanks.”
Large was racked by coughs again. He focused on the pain until it merged with the background scream of his body. “No. Imported.” He tried to get his breathing steady again. “Submachine guns.”
“You want to use them to pay the debt?”
“Yeah, you said business ...”
“I thought you had a deal with Cole. It’s the only thing the old fart’s any use for.”
“That’s for the Glocks,” Large gasped between breaths. Smooth and shallow. “This is different.”
“How many?”
Large tried to remember what Dennis had said. “Four. Maybe five.”
“Five?” Pike thought about it for a moment. He let go of Large’s hand. “Five submachine guns will do for the finger, but I still want the fifty K. And I’ll need to see these guns.”
Large pulled his hand away from the saw blade.
“They better be what you say or you’re dead,” Pike said.
Betty couldn’t work out why her toes hurt. Something was pressing on them.
She was in a pale blue room and there were mauve curtains hanging from the ceiling. And a television on the ceiling too, but the screen was dark. Outside, through the open door, she could see people moving past in a corridor, and could hear voices, parts of conversations she couldn’t understand, footsteps going back and forth. There were a pair of feet visible, black boots, blue trousers; someone was sitting just outside. The back of her hand itched. There was something stuck to it, tubes, more tubes on her face. A machine next to her pinged softly. She watched the red numbers changing for a while, wondering what they meant. She was in hospital again. The sheets were tucked so tightly across her feet that they were pressing on her toes. She twisted her legs and tried to sit up but only seemed to slide further down the bed.
“Mum?”
Betty turned her head to the voice, to John. He was sitting beside her with a magazine in his lap, but he wasn’t looking at it.
“It’s alright, John.” Was that croak her voice? Was it alright? Her throat was very sore. She needed something to drink.
A nurse started to talk to her, a young Asian woman, very pretty, with gold earrings. She was taking tubes and a mask off Betty’s face. A man in a blue tunic leaned her forwards and rearranged the pillows behind her then helped her to sit up. He was strong. There was a woman in glasses with a stethoscope around her neck leaning in too. Behind them all she could see John standing at the foot of the bed. He was grinning and talking to a policewoman, but he kept looking at her. Betty smiled back. She tried to ask a question but the words wouldn’t come out.
“Give her some water,” John said.
Someone put a cup in front of her with a straw. She took it into her mouth and sucked in cool, stale-tasting water. After a second sip she pushed the cup away. John was still there but the policewoman had gone. “What did I do?” Betty asked.
They barely stopped the van when they dumped Large in the driveway of his house, just slid the door open and pushed him out onto the concrete driveway. He stumbled, trying to stay upright, but fell onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t get up again so he stayed there, resting his head on the concrete, feeling the grit of the worn surface press into his forehead. There was no part of him that didn’t hurt, that wasn’t screaming for attention. But he was alive. Pike would come to regret that. And he still had all his fingers. Promising the guns had bought some time, but he’d have to deliver. Revenge could wait. There would be opportunities – Pike was too sure of himself, too arrogant. Large could wait. Pike would make a lot of enemies, and Large was going to be top of the list.
He crawled to the letterbox and pulled himself up to stand, trying to shut out the jabbing pain from his broken ribs. He walked very slowly to the house and let himself inside, calling out to Darlene before he remembered that she was still down in Berry. He’d have to look after himself but at least he wouldn’t have to put up with hysterics and endless fucking questions. He got his Sig from the hall table and took it and a bottle of vodka into the bathroom. He threw back two hefty slugs with a handful of paracetamol, and sat in the shower stall with hot water pounding on him. He didn’t bother to undress, just leaned back against the tiles and enjoyed the warmth while he waited for the drugs to kick in. When the water started to run cold he stripped off his clothes and got slowly into bed, leaving the Sig on the bedside table. He was going to make sure he always had a gun within reach from now on.
* * *
Chapter 15
Is This Normal?
In the morning, Large was so stiff he could hardly move. He was pissing blood and his face was horrible: eyes blackened and swollen to tiny slits. He daren’t touch his nose; it was twice its normal size and looked as if any adjustment would be painful. He needed a doctor but he called Jimmy instead. The dickhead must have been enjoying the beach life, the amount he complained about having to come back. “Just get back here and bring Matt.”
“For fuck’s sake, what happened?” Jimmy said when they arrived just after 11am. Matt stared, not saying anything.
They helped Large into the car and drove him to the emergency department at Sutherland Hospital. Large told the triage nurse that he’d fallen down some stairs drunk. He didn’t care that the nurses and doctors didn’t believe him. They set his nose, dressed the other wounds and sent him on his way with some serious painkillers. “Nothing we can do for the ribs. Just try not to breathe,” said the young smartarse doctor who discharged him. Large would have happily broken a couple of his ribs, give the prick a bit of life experience.
When they got back to the house, Large went straight back to bed while Matt went out for some some pizzas and a slab of beer.
“You stay here,” Large told Jimmy. “Have you got your Glock?”
“In the car.”
“It’s no fucking use there, is it? Go and get it. I’m not taking risks anymore.”
Large slept through the rest of the afternoon and night, waking up groggy and stiff on Wednesday morning. He forced himself out of the bed and into the pool, enjoying having his body supported by the water. He rested, leaning back against the side of the pool.
Everything hurt.
Matt was frying bacon when Large made his way slowly and carefully to the kitchen. It smelled fantastic. “I’ll have some of that, and a couple of eggs. Poached, and toast.”
Matt grinned. “Glad you’ve got your appetite back.”
Large just grunted and shuffled out to the lounge room.
“You sound a bit more like your old self.” Jimmy was sitting on the lounge watching a music show – lots of coloured lights and facial hair. Large grunted in response and lowered himself carefully into his chair. He took the remote and switched to ABC News 24. Let’s see what else has been happening, he thought, as the news came on.
They sat in silence watching the television and eating their breakfast. Matt didn’t say much, but he knew his way around a frypan. Large had to chew carefully to avoid the gaps where teeth had been knocked out. He was going to have to see a dentist too. He sipped carefully at the mug of strong tea.
Jimmy was lying on the lounge, transfixed by the big screen. Some financial story about interest rates. “Wake up!” Large shouted, switching the television off.
“What?”
“We need to get hold of those machine guns.”
“Yeah, I know, but how are we going to do it?”
“You and Matt are going to have to do it. I can’t, not for a while anyway. Lawrence must have them stashed somewhere. Get the cunt. Make him give up the guns. Then kill him.”
Jimmy brightened up. “Sure.”
“One thing,” said Large.
“What?”
“Don’t fuck it up. Don’t be a smartarse, just put a gun in his face, a bag over his head, hurt him till he talks. Then shoot him. Just keep it simple.”
Betty was asleep, half reclining against a pile of pillows. She was still sleeping a lot through the day. They had moved her out of the intensive care unit and into a private room. The monitors were gone, and so was the big bandage on her head, leaving a small dressing for the cut on her forehead. Her skin was very pale. It looked thin, barely capable of covering her bones.
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