‘That is funny, Jack. Yes.’ Kablunak walked over to the desk and picked up the money. He fanned a corner beneath his thick, manicured thumb. Then he held the cash out to Jack. ‘Nobody has seen this,’ he said. ‘It is free. Easy. Take it.’
‘It’s not mine.’
‘Ah! I do not believe you, Mr Susko. Did Pascal hit you too hard?’ The Russian scoffed. ‘It is only money. It has no soul and cannot assume the soul of he who has it in his wallet. Listen to me. Money cannot be possessed. Money can only be exercised.’ He nodded his head, smiled, and slapped the wad lightly against his leg. ‘I like you. Let me tell you a secret and then maybe you will take this money and go and make your fortune and not ever again kneel before another man.’ He walked past the desk to the window and gazed at the sky view, splintered with still-burning lights and strobed by the odd flash of lightning in the distance. ‘Money is energy, Mr Susko,’ he said. ‘It is electricity. It moves. Its only purpose is to move. And it is attracted to those who help move it.’ Kablunak turned and looked hard at Jack, his dark eyes glinting. ‘Think, Mr Susko. Who wires their house with wood?’ He held out the money again.
There was a murdered man lying on the floor beside Jack. He glanced down at de Groot’s body again. It had been a long day and a long night. Looked like it was going to be a long morning, too.
‘Take it,’ said Kablunak again, his tone harder by a couple more notches. ‘Take it. Or I will make you eat it.’
There was nothing to think about. Jack reached out, took the money from the Russian, and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans.
There it was. Done. Depending on what happened in the end, Jack supposed he could always use it for bail money.
‘Good. Very good.’ Kablunak smiled, broadly. He walked casually around the desk and stood next to Jack and looked down at de Groot’s body. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his grey suit pants. ‘So. Who?’
‘I don’t know.’ Jack could smell Kablunak’s aftershave and the intimacy added to his discomfort.
‘Yes.’ The Russian reached up to his face and felt the smoothness of his chin with his fingertips. ‘Well.’
Jack nodded at de Groot’s body. ‘Your old friend.’
‘Once upon a time.’
‘What happened?’
Viktor Kablunak turned to Jack, stared at him a moment, expressionless, and then resumed looking down at de Groot’s body on the floor. He said: ‘The student surpasses the teacher.’
Jack felt the money in his pocket press against his leg. ‘I didn’t know you were Buddhist.’
Kablunak grinned. ‘No, Mr Susko. My mother would be very upset at the mere mention. But perhaps our friend here will come back as a cockroach? I certainly hope so.’
‘He might live longer that way.’
The Russian’s face was serious, slightly pained. ‘Yes.’ He nudged de Groot’s body with his shoe. ‘Take note, Mr Susko. A man dead. And why? Because his judgement was clouded by his ego. He wanted to send me a message. Prove a point, as they say. Well, here is his reward.’ Kablunak walked back towards the door, stopped and turned back to face Jack. ‘The ego is a whorehouse, Mr Susko. But remember, there you fuck nobody but yourself.’ He pointed a finger. ‘You will come with me, now.’
Kablunak nodded at Pascal, who stepped into the room. He went over and stood by Jack.
‘Let’s go.’
Jack felt his adrenal glands start to pump. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Mr Susko.’ Kablunak was in a crisp gun-metal-grey suit, even at this hour, with a deep-maroon shirt unbuttoned down his chest: but weariness was starting to show in his voice. ‘I do not intend to let you out of my sight until the mail arrives later today. And you should hope that it is today.’
‘What about de Groot? You just going to leave him here?’
‘There is little I can do for him. His comfort is now in, or not in, depending on who you believe, the hands of God.’ Viktor Kablunak made a quick, small sign of the cross. It was not particularly reverent. ‘Such is the cycle and mystery of life.’
Pascal grabbed Jack by the arm.
‘Wait.’
Kablunak looked sternly at Jack. ‘I am not a morning person, Mr Susko.’
‘I can’t give you the Sergius.’
‘Maybe you do not understand me. I am very not pleasant in the early morning.’
‘I think I know who killed de Groot,’ said Jack. ‘Rhonda came to see me yesterday. With a gun. She wants the Sergius, too.’
‘Rhonda?’ Kablunak frowned.
‘And Lewis,’ added Jack, feeling sweat run down his spine. It was hot in the study and the air was heavy with heat and death and he did not want to be there anymore. ‘If I don’t get them the Bible, Lewis is going to pay me a visit. And they’ve got de Groot’s assistant, Larissa Tate, and things aren’t looking too healthy for her, either.’ Jack wanted to take a deep breath but was going to wait until he got outside into the pre-storm air. ‘I don’t want blood on my hands, Viktor. Mine or anybody else’s.’
‘Lewis?’ Pascal bristled like a dog with a rabbit scent in his nostrils. He turned to his boss. ‘That motherfucker’s here?’
‘Apparently,’ murmured Kablunak.
‘So you see the predicament,’ said Jack.
‘Only yours, Mr Susko.’ The Russian stared down at the body of Richard de Groot.
‘How’d that prick Lewis get into the country?’ asked Pascal, still holding on to Jack’s arm.
Viktor Kablunak shrugged.
‘Why would he have trouble getting into the country?’ asked Jack.
‘Because in South Africa he is a very bad man,’ said Kablunak. He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Maybe you guys should start a club.’
‘Do not think it is funny, Mr Susko. If Lewis has your girlfriend …’ The Russian waved his hand in the air. ‘Well … it is not good for her. A pity you cannot help.’
‘She’s not my girlfriend, Viktor. But it can’t be like that.’
‘You are in no position to say.’
The Russian’s words were like a slap. And the truth of them was bitter and Jack could taste it now, like some foul liqueur burning down his throat. For him, there was going to be no Sergius, no lump sums, no deals no chances no happy endings. No goddamn land of the plenty. It was just going to be this dead man on the floor in front of him and whatever else he was about to step in next.
‘See what it is to be powerless, Mr Susko?’ Viktor
Kablunak eased a smooth smile across his lips.
‘I’m only human, Viktor.’
‘Well, Mr Susko, there is your problem. Attitude. Our limits are merely what we choose to accept.’
‘Really? You saying I could play piano like Red Garland, if I wanted to?’
‘I’m sure you have never even tried.’
‘Why would I?’
‘See what I mean, Mr Susko?’
‘Okay. Right.’ There was only one choice left open to him and Jack knew he was going to have to take it. So he looked the Russian in the eye and took it. ‘You could help me,’ he said.
Kablunak seemed to savour the request for a moment. ‘And why should I do that, Mr Susko?’
‘Crash those limits, Viktor. Try a little tenderness.’
The Russian laughed. ‘You know, Mr Susko, I do like you.’
‘So?’
‘I would not advise that you bet on a shitty pair of sevens.’
Kablunak was right, but Jack had bet on less in the past and lived to tell Lois the tale. ‘What’s the time now?’
The Russian glanced at his watch. ‘It is a quarter past seven.’
‘I can have the Sergius in your hands in one hour and forty-five minutes.’
‘Really?’
‘Guaranteed.’
‘Well. Good.’ Viktor Kablunak nodded, slowly. Smiled a little more. ‘So we are finally getting somewhere.’
‘Where is it?’ asked Pascal, looking confused.
Jack i
gnored him, stared at Kablunak. ‘Well? Will you help me?’
‘You were at pains yesterday, Mr Susko, to explain to me that the Sergius had not yet arrived.’
Jack shrugged. ‘What can I say? When I go in to bat, it’s usually for me.’
‘Do not lie to me again,’ said Kablunak. ‘I do not own a dog, but I like to exercise my vengeance, Mr Susko. Regularly.’
‘Okay.’
Pascal was up on the balls of his feet. ‘What do you want to do?’
The Russian sighed, shook his head. ‘There will be a storm and it will rain all day today. In truth, I want to go home and put my feet up and watch a good movie. Something like … A Place in the Sun.’
‘I can bring popcorn,’ said Jack.
‘Do you like Elizabeth Taylor, Mr Susko?’
‘Even in Cleopatra.’
‘Yes. Well …’ Kablunak checked his watch again. ‘Let us hope that you do not get the same scathing reviews for your next performance.’ He pulled at the cuffs of his shirt. ‘And so. Where are we to witness the final scenes, Mr Susko?’
‘Lewis wants me to go round to De Groot Galleries as soon as I have the Sergius.’
‘Then that is where we shall go.’
‘Now?’
‘Of course.’
‘How do you know he’s going to be there?’
‘Because I know lots of things, Mr Susko.’
‘Yeah? What number am I thinking of now?’
‘Three-point-four million,’ said Kablunak, face in the ballpark of deadpan to not impressed. ‘Minus expenses. And I would advise you to keep out of that column in my ledger. Mr Susko.’
~
27 ~
THE CITY HUMMED ACROSS THE WATER like a giant oil rig, coloured lights winking over the harbour. Pascal walked Jack a short distance down Vaucluse Road to the Fiori for his bag, and then walked him back to the Mercedes parked out in front of de Groot’s house. Walter was sitting behind the wheel, staring out of the side window at the view. Viktor Kablunak was in the front seat beside him, eyes closed and head back on the leather upholstery, like a weary passenger on a long-haul flight. Above them, there were lights left on inside the de Groot residence. Jack was having trouble shaking Richard de Groot’s bathrobed body from his mind, on the floor of the study like that, head hanging in the empty safe, bloodied and dead. He was glad a couple of the lights had been left burning with their hot, halogen brightness. He was not a religious man, but around death there was always that inclination. Jack remembered Aunt Eva talking about how she had sat with her husband all through the night when he passed away. So that his earthly body was safe while the ghost road was taken. Even though she could not stand him, regularly, in life. Jack found himself grateful for the light up in those windows.
Pascal reached across him and opened the rear door of the Merc.
‘You guys do this often?’ asked Jack.
‘What’s that?’
‘Leave bodies behind to fend for themselves?’
‘You want to go up and pour him a glass of water?’
‘What about calling the cops?’
‘That’s up to Mr Kablunak.’
‘It’s on your hands, too.’
‘Yeah?’ Pascal scoffed. ‘It won’t be the hardest stain I got to wash off. What about you?’ He pushed Jack into the back seat and slammed the door on him.
Walter started the car, looked over at his boss. ‘Where to?’
‘De Groot Galleries,’ said Kablunak, eyes still closed.
Walter swung the Mercedes around and headed back towards the city. Jack looked out of the window, tired and resigned. All he knew was that he would not be climbing into bed with Kim again any time soon. And there was a dead man’s ten grand in his pocket.
‘Could we drive by my place?’ he said. ‘I need to feed my cat.’
Eyes still closed, Kablunak said: ‘Sixty-eight percent of domestic animals die from obesity-related disease, Mr Susko.’
‘Is that a no?’
They wound through Rose Bay, Double Bay, then turned up Ocean Street in Edgecliff. Kablunak had Relaxin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet, 1956, on the stereo. Jack had to admit the man had taste. The sky was uneven in its darkness: the last remnants of night were choked with clouds, beginning to move and churn, black folding into edges of grey and steely shadows curling and twisting like plumes of smoke. It really was going to bucket down, any moment. Jack checked the thought: it was going to come down all right, and it was going to be all over his head.
Something thudded, as though the rear wheels of the Merc had hit a pothole. Jack noticed Walter glance into the rear-view mirror.
‘Was that him?’ said Fat Boy.
‘Yeah,’ said Pascal. ‘Should we give him a drink or something?’
‘He’s been in there for a while.’
Kablunak tapped his leg, following the music.
‘Who?’ asked Jack, slightly concerned.
‘It’ll be pretty hot in there by now, too,’ said Walter.
A couple more dull thuds came from the boot. Jack could feel the vibrations through the seat, right in his kidneys. ‘Who have you got in the back? Shane?’ he asked, voice a touch strained. The idea made him feel a little queasy. Jesus.
‘It’s not fucking Shane,’ said Pascal.
‘Do not be so concerned, Mr Susko.’ Kablunak sounded bored. ‘I let Mr Ferguson go …’ He paused. ‘Days ago.’
‘What, from a moving car?’
The Russian smiled. ‘I am not the KGB, Mr Susko. We dropped him off at the Royal Prince Alfred, as a matter of fact. Emergency ward. Unfortunately, there was a very full waiting room and the blood was coming.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But, you know, only a broken nose.’ Kablunak reached down and massaged his leg, just above the knee. ‘I asked him to keep out of my way for a while. Maybe he moved to Melbourne?’
Jack shifted in his seat, the leather creaking expensively.
‘So who’s looking after your spare wheel?’
‘Your cousin, Mr Susko. Who else?’
Jack let the news sink in. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Of course.’ A couple of pellets of rain hit the windscreen, but that was it. ‘You know him, too, then?’
‘Not at all, Mr Susko. He opened the door at Mr Ferguson’s house when we knocked.’ The Russian looked out into the street. ‘And now he knows me. And that is far more important.’
‘You went around to Shane’s house?’ Jack was thinking about Kim. ‘What for?’
‘We were looking for you, Mr Susko. Walter here recognised the girl at your shop earlier. Shane’s flatmate, no? It was an interesting coincidence.’ The Russian adjusted something on the air-conditioning. ‘I am always wary of interesting coincidences.’
‘You didn’t do anything to her?’
‘Of course not, Mr Susko. We are not the barbarian hordes. The young lady was asleep. And your cousin, as you can no doubt imagine, was quite willing to talk to us. It was unnecessary to wake her.’
Jack felt a moment of relief. ‘What are you going to do with Carl?’
‘Oh, just keep him handy for a moment. I worry that too many people already know about my Bible, Mr Susko.’ He gave Walter a look: it was firmly in the territory of unpleasant. ‘And maybe I will convince your cousin to forget about it? That a life of crime is not a worthwhile career pursuit. Especially if you stumble onto the path of my career.’
‘That’s very kind of you. I think he might be getting the idea right about now.’
‘Yes. I believe you are correct.’
Walter turned the Mercedes into Queen Street, Woollahra.
‘Ah. Here we are,’ said Viktor Kablunak. ‘Let us go and visit Lewis. See if we cannot help Mr Susko out of his predicament.’
~
28 ~
AS IT WAS STILL VERY EARLY, Walter immediately found a spot when he turned off Queen and into Spicer Street, opposite an empty café with a For Lease sign in the window and an old faded poster for last year’s Sydney Fren
ch Film Festival. As Walter parked the Mercedes, Jack thought of Monica Bellucci. Unfortunately the thought did not last for long. The street was the same one he had turned into last Friday in the Toyota, when the whole damn thing had started. Except now it was early morning instead of late afternoon. And the wheels were slightly more expensive. And this time, he was arriving at De Groot Galleries with the heist guys instead of meeting them there. And his cousin was in the boot of the car, too. It was like some Twilight Zone game of opposites. Hell, he even had ten thousand dollars in his pocket, instead of the three-twenty in change he had jingling around in there the week before.
He unclipped the seatbelt, took a deep breath. Life was strange and turned on a five-cent coin. That fact had always buoyed him in his darker moments: but right now it was more a cause for concern. Jack hoped it did not mean he was going to come out a little more cynical down the other end. Lois usually handled all that stuff, and more than well enough for the two of them.
‘He can stay where he is,’ said Kablunak to Walter, pointing with his thumb to the rear of the car. ‘Just wait here until we get back.’ He opened the door and stepped into the street.
The air was thick and wet, not the slightest edge of morning freshness to it. The sky was a bunched-up blanket of gloom. Jack, Kablunak and Pascal walked down Spicer Street, turned into Peaker Lane, walked a little further and then descended the concrete driveway into the car park beneath De Groot Galleries. A black BMW 120i was parked in one of the spaces.
‘Looks like somebody’s here,’ said Pascal, checking out the Beamer. ‘Might be better not to just waltz in.’
Kablunak nodded in agreement. ‘Gun,’ he said.
Pascal reached behind him and took out the .38 snubnose that was wedged in his belt. He flipped open the barrel, checked the chambers and gave them a spin. Just like in the movies. Jack pulled his bag further up his shoulder. As much as he did not like guns — or at least not those that were pointed at him — the precise, thick-sounding, cold metal click-clack of the weapon in Pascal’s hand was strangely satisfying. Reassuring. He almost asked if he could hold it for a moment. Or if maybe he could borrow it for the rest of the day.
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