Facing the Music

by Brian Smith

  ‘There’s Rossi,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. He comes down the day before. I can’t help thinking he likes to get away from all the others.’ Alan gave Mike a sidelong glance and added, ‘Even away from Carla.’

  He pointed to the trees further up the hill from where they were standing. ‘There’s a spot higher up where we can see the others arrive. Let’s go there now.’

  They reached a place where a gap in the covering hedge of trees allowed them a view of the carport above the house. Alan reached into his pack and drew out a camera with a telephoto lens and slung it around his neck.

  ‘I’ve got some back-up for you,’ Mike said and took his own camera from his pack.

  ‘Nice,’ Alan said. ‘Looks like a good quality video-camera.’

  ‘Moment of weakness when the kids started arriving and I wanted to record their every move.’

  Vern McKenzie sat in exactly the same seat at the Flinders Village Cafe as he had the previous week, another cup of sweet, black tea in front of him. He felt more settled than last week, knowing better what to expect. He also knew that, having set up Mike and Reardon, he could not turn back and no longer needed to contemplate that option. Yesterday he had played good golf and, together with Paul Jones, had won their match – a promising omen for today. Although it was cold, it was dry and clear – something else to be pleased about. He finished his drink, climbed into his car and soon reached the unimpressive carport. Unaware of the two cameras recording his arrival, he glanced at the cars he had seen parked there the previous Sunday. Shane Francis would be missing this time. Why was he killed? Had it anything to do with his dealings with Rubicon, or something quite different? His absence would leave room in the SUV for Sarac’s boss, although Vern suspected he would prefer to come separately. In which case he had yet to arrive.

  When Rick admitted Vern to the house, he found Sarac and Rossi sitting at the small table beside the bar each with a stubbie in front of them. There was no sign of Bruno. ‘Come over here and sit with me, Vern. I’ve got your Glenkinchie,’ Sarac said, pointing to a glass which sat beside the stubbies. Rossi nodded to Vern but said nothing.

  Vern remained at the base of the steps, enjoying the view, before he took a seat at the small table opposite Sarac and beside Angelo. ‘Where’s the boss?’

  ‘Not far away,’ Sarac said.

  Rick, still by the front door, opened it to admit Bruno, who nodded to Sarac. ‘Good. Bruno, come over and we can get all the checking out of the way at the start.’

  He turned back to Vern. ‘The boss is a careful man. If you don’t mind standing again, Bruno can see you’re not carrying anything we wouldn’t like.’

  Vern shook his head as if about to object but then stood and, with scowling face, allowed Bruno to check him over. That done, he sat down again and lingered over a mouthful of the whisky before saying, ‘I’m sorry about Shane. What happened there?’

  ‘Yeah, unfortunate,’ Sarac replied.

  His head swung around with an angry frown when Bruno gave a humourless laugh and said, ‘Why don’t you ask Georgiou what happened?’

  Rossi shook his head and drew in an irritated breath.

  Puzzled by their reaction, Vern said, ‘Can’t ask Mike anything at the moment. He’s been suspended.’

  ‘Yeah. Pity we can’t say the same for Reardon. He’s still round and about.’

  ‘Just the commission taking it’s time,’ Vern replied. He was worried though. Had Reardon found a way to wriggle out, or was George making it difficult for the commission? He had been cagey the other night.

  ‘Looks like we’ll have to deal with that loner ourselves,’ Bruno told him, receiving another frown from Sarac as he pulled out his phone and made a call.

  ‘OK, we’re all set,’ he said and closed the phone.

  After Mike and Alan had recorded Vern step from his car and watched him disappear inside the house, Alan said, ‘Did you know McKenzie is back running head office while Ben Findlay does your job at CityView?’

  ‘I didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise me.’

  ‘Not a happy place, I’m told. You seem to have a loyal team behind you down there and Ben Findlay is not getting on well with them. Unfortunately for him, the union delegate George provided to replace poor little Ted Horton is turning out to be just as prickly as Ted. They say the way things are going you may well have a strike at CityView in the next week or so.’

  ‘That bad?’

  Mike had never given Ben much chance of succeeding as project manager at CityView, but he thought it would have taken longer than this for problems to surface.

  They took shots of Bruno when he returned from checking the road by the front gate. ‘You were right about their confidence,’ Mike said. ‘Careful attention to the top of the block and bugger all anywhere else.’

  ‘Only Mr Kane to come,’ Alan said and they resumed their wait.

  After about ten minutes, a dark green Mercedes SUV emerged from the screen of trees and parked under the carport. The man who stepped from the passenger door looked to be in his middle to late fifties. Of medium height and bulk, he had straight, red hair, somewhat longer than was common these days. He wore a white rollneck jumper and navy corduroys.

  ‘Ah, Jerry! Welcome to Flinders,’ Alan said.

  The driver, a short man in a blue bomber jacket, stood behind him as they waited to be let into the house.

  ‘You said Kane was reclusive, but you recognised him,’ Mike noted. ‘Did Mancini show you a photograph or just give you his description?’

  Alan sniffed and said, ‘Time to go back down and hope we get something useful through the windows or, better still, they don’t think it’s too cold to sit outside.’

  When Vern saw the red-haired man come down the steps he stood to greet him, but no one made any attempt to introduce them. ‘G’day,’ the man said, but did not offer his hand and stood at a distance, scrutinising Vern.

  ‘You know I’m Vern McKenzie. Who are you?’ When there was no reply, Vern tossed his head. ‘I’m not here to play silly games. If we’re going to work together I’ll eventually need a lot more than your name, but that’s a good place to start.’

  The man nodded and gave a crooked grin while his eyes continued to study Vern. ‘Didn’t they say? Jerry Kane.’

  Sarac pointed to the leather suite where they sat last time.

  ‘Let’s go up the other end,’ he said. ‘The rest of you can fire up the barbecue and get lunch started.’

  When Angelo moved towards them Sarac waved a dismissive hand. ‘You can show them where the stuff is, Ang. If we need you we’ll give a shout.’

  Bruno, Rick and the man who had driven Kane were already on their way to one of the glass doors leading to the terrace. Rossi scowled at Sarac and followed them. ‘Bring your glass, Vern. Jerry enjoys a good whisky, too, so I’ll bring the bottle.’

  Once they were settled with Vern on the chair between the other two, Kane said. ‘Ivan’s given me the guts of what you’re proposing. Take me through it in detail.’

  Vern embarked on his account of the scheme he had put to Rossi and Sarac last Sunday. Kane frequently interrupted, intent on understanding every step in Vern’s plan to bring Findlay’s down. Twice Sarac broke in with a comment but, after the second occasion, when Kane had glared at him and drawn in a tight breath, he remained silent. When Vern became coy about detailing his links and influence with the union, Kane nodded and gave the same crooked grin he had used earlier.

  ‘People to protect. Just like me.’

  For once he allowed Vern to continue without insisting on an answer.

  When Vern moved on to how Kane would take over and control Findlay’s, he was not surprised Kane asked for greater detail about the company’s finances and structure. As Vern went through these with him, he nodded in a manner that encouraged Vern to believe he was both understanding and buying the scheme. At the end of Vern’s description, Kane, who had been leaning forward throughout, sat b
ack and said, ‘And what do you want out of this?’

  ‘I want to be the well-paid MD of Findlay’s, have Ben Findlay out of the firm and, by our success, show Jim Findlay how it could have been if he’d let me follow him instead of ignoring me and bringing his son into the firm.’

  ‘I’ll give you the first two. The third will be up to you, just like it was up to Rossi. Fail to deliver like he’s failed and we won’t leave you to hang around like we’ve done with him. You’ll be out.’

  ‘Talking of delivering, before I go any further, I want you to show me you can deliver on your side of the bargain.’

  Kane’s eyes remained steadily on Vern’s as he lifted his glass to drink. He put the glass down carefully and was about to speak when there was a shout from outside.

  ‘What the fuck is that?’ he said.

  From their position opposite the house Mike was able to film the threesome move to the near end of the room where he lost them in the reflections from the windows. Alan had stopped taking photographs and was busy setting up a small conical dish he had taken from his pack.

  ‘I got this during the week – a parabolic ear they call it. Supposed to let you listen in, even through glass, and has a built in mini-recorder.’

  He attached a set of headphones and pointed the dish at the house but was not pleased with the result. ‘I can hear them – just – but it’s too fuzzy to tell what they’re saying most of the time.’ When the men came from the house and went to the barbecue area at the other side of the pool, he pointed the dish at them. ‘That’s better. The one we haven’t seen before is Billy. Bruno’s giving him heaps – says he has a cosy job driving Kane around. Now if I could get the same quality from inside …’

  He scrutinised the side of the house nearest to them and his face took on the concentrated expression of a man making calculations. ‘If I come from the rear and then down the side I could put the dish in the bush on the corner. It would be close enough the glass shouldn’t be a problem. They won’t be able to see me if I stay next to the side wall.’

  Before Mike could reply Alan stood and began walking back up the hill. Mike used the viewfinder of his camera to search for him and, after what seemed a long time but was probably only a few minutes, saw him emerge from the trees above the carport, slip down to the flat of the parking area and then emerge at the side wall of the house. Carefully he edged down the slope, delayed by the tendency of the feet attached to the dish to stick in the grass. Eventually he reached the corner and paused for a moment before taking a quick look at the pool and barbecue area through the foliage at the corner of the building. Satisfied he could not be seen, he pushed the dish under the small branches at the base of the bushes, positioned it to face the nearby windows and sat with his back against the side wall. With the headphones attached, he remained motionless for a short time before glancing over towards Mike and shaking his head. It seemed he was still not getting the clarity he needed. He dropped his head to fiddle with the control knobs for the unit.

  Mike swivelled the camera to cover the barbecue area again and could see Bruno cutting up sausages while Rick fired up the barbecue. Angelo and Billy had turned away and were making their way back inside, perhaps to bring out the remainder of the meat. Mike stopped filming the barbecue area and swept the areas below the house. There was no question the view of cliffs, beach and cove was magnificent. Suddenly, a shout from the other end of the house brought Mike’s attention back to Alan. Above him on the slope stood Billy, who must have gone through the house to the car park and circled around to the side. He began to run down the slope but slipped and pitched forward into the grass, giving Alan the chance to tear off the headphones and begin to run. He could not escape the way he had come as Billy, now on his feet again, blocked that route. The best alternative would be to head straight towards Mike who, without conscious thought, had begun to film the chase. Alan rejected this option, perhaps fearful it might result in Mike being discovered as well. He took a long loop around the end of the pool and down the hill towards the beach. Rick came from the barbecue area to chase him, but Alan was the faster runner and the gap between them widened as they careered down the slope. Mike hoped Alan would be sufficiently far ahead by the time they reached the bottom that he could lose Rick in the thick bush of the national park. Should he go to join him, should he disappear into the bush behind him, or should he remain to observe? The decision was made for him when Alan stumbled and fell. Quickly he regained his feet, but Rick was now only twenty metres away and Alan must have twisted his ankle or knee in the fall, because he could no longer outrun his pursuer and was soon brought to the ground. Mike continued to film as they wrestled, neither one able to overcome the other. Rick clearly lacked Bruno’s brutal strength and Alan, despite being much lighter, had a wiriness and determination that Rick could not subdue.

  When Bruno arrived, he stood above the two on the ground. The knife he had been using on the sausages was still in his hand. Alan levered himself up and over Rick and sat on his chest, his knees pinning Rick’s sides. For a moment the writhing bodies remained still. Bruno took his chance and plunged the knife into Alan’s back. Alan pitched forward and Bruno thrust the knife into him again and again before grasping him by the shoulder and pulling him off Rick and on to the grass where he lay lifeless. Slowly Rick climbed to his feet, looked down on Alan and said something to Bruno that caused him to brandish the knife at Rick as though he might be next. Rick spat into the grass, picked up his cap, which had been knocked from his head during the struggle, and turned to trudge slowly up the hill. When Mike turned his camera back to the house he could see Rossi, Sarac and Vern lined up watching through the windows. There was no sign of Kane or his driver.

  Sarac was the first on his feet when they heard the shout and moved swiftly to the window. ‘Christ. That bugger Reardon’s turned up.’ Vern and Kane came to stand beside him while Rossi appeared from the other end of the house and stood apart from them as the four watched the chase.

  Kane’s driver came across the patio and in the door, carrying with him the receiving dish and headphones. ‘Time to go,’ he said, coming to stand beside his boss. When Kane did not reply but continued to stare at the figures down the hill, he turned and the five of them watched as Rick brought Reardon down.

  ‘Got him,’ Sarac said triumphantly.

  They continued to watch the struggle until Bruno drove his knife into Reardon’s back. Even from this distance, the ferocity of the attack was plain to see. Kane broke the shocked silence.

  ‘You’re right,’ he told his driver and began to walk to the door. At the top of the steps he turned and fixed his gaze on Sarac.

  ‘Ivan. Clean this up. No loose ends.’

  He opened the door and was followed out by his driver.

  Sarac walked over to stand directly in front of Vern.

  ‘You’re one of us now. You saw nothing. You weren’t even here. Now go.’

  He did not wait for Vern to respond but walked out on to the patio and began to make his way down the hill. From the other end of the room Vern heard Rossi say, ‘We’re all in the shit now. Go while you can.’

  Angelo went to the bar, took another stubbie and carried it into the kitchen. Left on his own, Vern decided there was nothing to be gained by staying. He went to his car and drove away, puzzling over what he should do now. He had always known that achieving his aims might involve bending or even flouting the law, but concealing a murder was something else. Reardon couldn’t have blundered in at a worse time: Jerry Kane was just on the point of committing himself. He needed to get back to Kane as soon as he could.

  Sarac met Rick on his way down the hill. ‘Is he stuffed?’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon so. Careful with Bruno. Once, I could talk him down. The way he is now, though, he’ll kill anyone who looks sideways at him.’

  ‘You’d better come with me.’

  Mike heard the cars departing. There was no question Alan was dead. The best thing he could do was t
o make his escape and get to the police as soon as he could. Yet he couldn’t leave Alan lying there in the paddock. Mike gathered the two backpacks and walked slowly down the hill within the covering bush until he reached a point across from where Alan’s body lay. Sarac, Rick and Bruno stood silently looking down on Alan like three crows beside some road-kill. Mike lined up each of them in his viewfinder as if sighting them with a rifle. He wouldn’t be capable of that but he would have to make sure Alan was properly avenged. All these men, not just Bruno, but all of them, including Kane and Vern, must be punished for their part in bringing about Alan’s death. He would stay until they moved him, as they surely must.

  Sarac began to speak to the other two, using his hands as though reassuring and persuading them of something. Eventually Bruno tossed the knife on the grass beside Alan and sat down with his knees drawn up under his chin. Rick turned and walked back to the house. Sarac remained standing and at one point turned to stare straight at Mike. For a moment he thought he had been discovered, but Sarac checked his watch and gazed into the sky before turning back to look towards the house. Rick emerged carrying a set of keys. Mike continued to film these trivial events. It was something he could do.

  When Rick reached the other two, there was another conversation, with Rick doing most of the talking. Sarac appeared to question him on a number of points before taking charge again. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the handle of the knife before picking it up. He said something that brought a surly response from Bruno, who then bent to raise Alan from the ground and awkwardly lift his floppy body across one shoulder. With Rick leading the way, Bruno carrying Alan and Sarac coming behind with the knife, they made for the beach.

  Mike went back to the boundary fence and forced his way through the bush beside it to the cliff above the beach, where he returned to the edge of the scrub. Below him on the small, sandy beach stood a corrugated iron shed previously hidden by the fold of the hill. There was no sign of the men. The alarm he had begun to feel ramped up when he heard a rasping screech, but it was merely the doors at the front of the shed being pushed open from inside. A medium-size cabin cruiser on a four-wheeled trailer slowly emerged from the shed and rolled down concrete tracks hidden under a thin layer of sand. Sarac sat under the canopy and Alan’s body was slumped in the rear of the boat. Bruno and Rick waded out to release the boat from the trailer and clambered aboard. Sarac started the motor. Slowly they travelled along the narrow cove and out into the open sea.