Facing the Music

by Brian Smith

  Gloomily Mike sat to await their return. As the sun began to dip and the breeze freshened further, the cold became more intense. It would be even more uncomfortable in the chop of the sea. After half an hour Mike heard the sound of the motor and shortly the boat reappeared in the cove. There was no sign of Alan. Again Bruno and Rick were forced into the cold water to manoeuvre the boat on to the trailer, after which they started a motorised winch within the shed to haul the boat back inside. They closed the doors with the same shrieking noise and walked slowly back to the house, leaving Mike alone on the headland. There was nothing more to film.

  Not long afterwards he heard the sound of the remaining two cars starting up and leaving the property. He thought about exploring the surrounds of the house – even breaking in to search the interior – but did not have the heart for it. What was the point? He began the difficult walk back to the car and had gone only a short way when he realised he didn’t have its ignition keys. As he approached the road, he saw the car was no longer there. For a surreal moment he imagined Alan had somehow recovered, swum ashore and driven off. Then it dawned, Sarac wouldn’t want the police to find Alan’s car anywhere near Flinders. It was probably on its way to the long-term car park at Tullamarine.

  17

  Mike had passed through many emotions since finding the car gone on Sunday afternoon. There had been the initial fear they were waiting for him to return to the car. Too late, he ducked into the bushes beside the path but, finding he was alone, his fear turned to lonely despondency. He was cold, bereft and had no means of getting home. It was then he called Lissa. Despondency overtook lethargy as, tired and stiff, he sat waiting for her to pick him up. By the time she reached him it was dark and he was shivering with the cold. Once within the warmth of the car, he told her what had happened and was overcome by grief at Alan’s death. The only other time he could remember breaking into such choking sobs had been when he gave the instruction for the hospital staff to turn off his mother’s life support. Lissa wanted to take him to the police immediately, but he refused. He needed time to think how best to use the evidence he held. Arriving at a local police station on a Sunday night with an unlikely story and a video he had not yet viewed was not the way to do it.

  When Lissa insisted it was wrong to delay and they began to argue he became angry, initially with her, but then with Alan. Why had this ultra-cautious man taken such a risk to place the receiving dish close to the windows? Why had he been so foolish? His anger moved on to Vern. If it had not been for his treachery, none of this would have happened. Vern and Jerry Kane, the men who drew Alan and Mike to Flinders, had driven away and he had nothing that could incriminate them in anything. When he started trying to explain to Lissa how he felt she must have realised he was in no state to make a coherent statement to the police and gave up trying to persuade him, agreeing they should go directly home. Exhaustion soon replaced anger and Mike fell asleep, waking again when they were half-way home. Physically refreshed but still deeply troubled, he could not settle. Debating within himself what he should do, he thought of Mario Mancini’s edict that you have to wait patiently until you see your chance and then you don’t hold back – you strike.

  As the taxi pulled into the entry to the Crown Towers Hotel, Mike’s heart began to pump. Immediately he stepped from the cab he saw Rick waiting for him. Earlier, he had couriered a data stick to Sarac with the message, ‘No one but you and I need see this. I have a proposal for you. Mike Georgiou.’ When Mike had added a postscript to his message, saying that if any harm came to him or to anyone close to him, the video and Mike’s statement would go straight to the police, he thought how similar his father’s message to Mario Mancini must have been – history repeating itself – although he wanted a lot more than self-protection. Sarac’s response had been to call him and say he should come to the Crown Towers at three.

  Rick nodded curtly and turned to lead him through the hotel foyer to the concourse beside the river. They went only a short distance before Rick halted and scanned the people coming towards them from each direction. Apparently satisfied he ducked into a narrow alleyway concealed by a box hedge and leading to what appeared to be an electrical services cabinet with two head-high grey doors. He opened the left hand door and gestured for Mike to enter. As Mike walked up the short staircase alone, Rick closed the door behind him – no going back now. Sarac was seated at the table where Mike had enjoyed his lunch with Carla less than a week ago. There was no food, no drink and no music this time. Sarac stood up.

  ‘Before we start, I need to make sure you’re not trying any fancy tricks. Put your arms up and let me check you over.’

  After he had run his hands over Mike’s body and assured himself that he was not carrying a wire, he gestured for Mike to sit beside him and said, ‘So, what’s this proposal of yours? What do you want?’

  This was the first time Mike had been close to Sarac and heard him speak. He had the look and the sound of the enforcer Mike knew him to be, but there was something he had not expected: the menace was there but so was a surly weariness.

  ‘Give me what I want and, before I hand the video to the police, I’ll edit it so you and your boss don’t appear.’

  Sarac gazed at him for a moment before he replied and Mike thought some of the weariness on his face had been replaced by the watchful mask of a poker player.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘For a start, I want to know why you had Shane killed.’

  ‘Shane deserved everything he got, the bastard.’

  ‘But why?’

  Sarac gave a scornful laugh. ‘You know why. How else would you know to go to Flinders yesterday? After Angelo saw the two of you together at that cosy, family dinner, Shane tried to tell us he hated your guts and wasn’t tipping you off, even though you knew when to stake out Bruno at the CityView site. You thought you were so smart, but we kept an eye on the two of you, and when Rick saw you and Shane coming out of Doherty’s Gym so chummy together, we knew. What we didn’t know was how much he’d told you. Bruno kept hitting him but he wouldn’t cough up – the silly bugger. That’s when Bruno lost it and beat him to a pulp. We wouldn’t have been able to stop him even if we’d wanted – just like yesterday. A pity he didn’t stay in the river where we chucked him. No chance Reardon will surface any time soon, though.’

  ‘I want you to tell this to the police.’

  Sarac laughed again, this time with what seemed like genuine amusement. He wiped his hand across his face and gave a low chuckle full of disbelief.

  ‘To save me from a charge of dumping Reardon’s body you want me to cough up to being involved when Shane copped it? Get real.’

  ‘Why did you set me up for the bribery charge?’

  ‘I didn’t. That was McKenzie. He wanted you out of the way.’

  ‘Out of the way? Why would he want that?’

  ‘He reckoned you’d make it harder for him to do what he wanted at Findlay’s. I don’t know how he thought you’d do that but I do know you keep getting in the way.’

  ‘He and Kane are working up something between them, aren’t they?’ Sarac glanced at him sharply when Mike mentioned Kane. ‘Yeah, I know it’s Jerry Kane. Tell me what it is they’re up to.’

  Sarac shook his head. ‘If I were you I wouldn’t let it get around you’re trying to meddle in Jerry’s affairs. Not good for your health.’ He paused, reconsidering. ‘Yeah, why not? You might be able to stop McKenzie, which could be a good thing, and you won’t do any harm to Jerry – he’s a lot too fly for the likes of you and McKenzie. What I know is McKenzie offered to white-ant Findlay’s so that Jerry can buy in and take control, just like he controls Rubicon, using the money he launders from his other interests. That’s why McKenzie wants to get rid of you. He reckons he can stuff up Findlay’s easier if you’re not around.’

  Mike knew if he was going to stop Vern he needed more detail. ‘And how is he going to stuff up Findlay’s?’

  ‘You expect me to kn
ow? You’re the one who works there.’ Mike could hear the mockery in Sarac’s voice – he was playing with him.

  ‘So why tip me off about Vern? Do you want me to stop Vern?’

  Sarac chuckled indulgently. ‘Aren’t you a clever boy to work that out? McKenzie says all he really wants is revenge on Jim Findlay for dumping him and putting his son into the firm, but I know what he’s really after. Becoming MD at Findlay’s is just the first step in his plan to move into Rubicon. That won’t happen – I’m not that stupid. I almost feel a bit sorry for Vern. I know what it’s like to work your butt off, doing all the nasty jobs for a boss who stays clear of trouble but gets all the benefits of the work you do, and who will ditch you whenever it suits him. Look how Jerry got out yesterday and left me to clean up the mess. Jerry will use McKenzie and when he’s not useful any more, he’ll spit him out. I know he’ll do the same with me one day, and the more stuff-ups we have with Rubicon, the closer the day gets. If I had a good, safe alternative I’d get out now, before it’s too late.’

  ‘Here’s your chance to get even. Come and talk to Jim Findlay. Tell him what you’ve just told me. Kane need never know.’

  ‘Get even? I’m not a delicate flower like McKenzie who has to have his revenge when his boss dumps him. I know how the world works. Jerry will keep me on for as long as I’m useful to him. Past service counts for nothing. Only the weak, the ones who can’t look after themselves, need to depend on their boss’s loyalty. If I’m going to shop Jerry there has to be a lot more in it for me than you can offer. God, you’re an amateur. Go and give your video to the police. I’ll do a deal with them over Bruno, get a short sentence and be looked after by Jerry for keeping him out of it. I’ll say he was long gone when the fight started. You’ve got all you’re getting from me.’

  Mike sat gloomily sipping his coffee. He had hoped to get so much more from confronting Sarac with the video. Sure, he now knew for certain Bruno had killed Shane and had a better idea of what Vern was doing, but he had no proof of anything beyond Bruno’s murder of Alan. The promise he had made to avenge Alan by bringing down Jerry Kane and Vern McKenzie, which sounded so fine when he stood in the bushes at Flinders, he now saw as the vain posturing it had always been.

  Reaching home last night, wrestling with the problem of how he should follow Mario Mancini’s edict to wait patiently and then strike, it occurred to him he should call Mancini to tell him what had happened. After all, it was Mancini who had triggered Alan’s pursuit of Kane that led to his death. He also wanted Mancini to know that if Mike had taken his advice and done nothing, there would be no evidence of the murder.

  Mike’s opinion of Mancini softened when he appeared shocked and distressed by the news, but when he recovered quickly and began to think aloud about how best to capitalise on the tragedy, Mike’s distaste for him returned, even though this was the very issue Mike had been struggling with. He had to admit it was Mancini who suggested how he should use the video and it was Mancini who gave him the confidence this would lead to the unmasking of Kane.

  Mike looked at his watch. Mancini should be here soon and would be disappointed, too. It occurred to him that, in a strange way, he seemed to be replaying the events of last Tuesday with different actors: Sarac replacing Carla in the private room at Café Filipo and Mancini replacing Alan here, at the Gainsville Cafe.

  The glass door of the cafe swung open and Mancini strode through in the imperious manner Mike had seen at Café Filipo and at the soccer match. He looked across at Mike and beamed at him. That smile would soon disappear when Mike told him of his failure with Sarac.

  ‘Well done, Mike. I didn’t think you’d be able to draw him out as well as you did.’

  ‘But …’

  Mancini cut him off by tossing two data sticks on to the table in front of him. ‘One for you. One for the cops.’

  ‘What are these?’

  ‘Your conversation with that arrogant fool, Sarac.’

  ‘But how …’

  ‘You really should thank your father, but we can’t tell him, or anyone else, how we did this. He was the one who showed me so many years ago the value of secretly recording conversations. When I put in the private room with its own entrance, I took the opportunity to hide a few things. I’ll leave you to figure out how I’m able to set up and retrieve the recordings. But, when you do, keep it to yourself. Not even Carla knows. Been very useful to me over the years with all the special dinners and private meetings that are held there.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I thought you’d perform better if I didn’t burden you with too much prior knowledge. I was confident Sarac would choose that room to meet with you. I also thought you wouldn’t be able to shake him into helping us willingly, and I was right there, too. We needed more and now we’ve got it.’

  Mancini continued to beam at him and Mike flushed with irritation at being patronised in this way: first Sarac and now Mancini, treating him as though he was a child among adults. And Mancini wasn’t finished. ‘When you take the video and the sound recording to the police, there’ll be interest far wider than the homicide squad. Don’t mention my name. I’m more than happy for you to take all the credit. I suggest you call Senior Sergeant Robbins straight away and tell him you want to speak with him urgently.’

  Mike could understand how Angelo Rossi would have become fed up with his father-in-law talking down to him.

  ‘Hold on. What do you get out of this? You’re a man who likes to be at the centre of things; not the kind who wants to stay out of the limelight. But in this you’ve been skulking in the shadows just like Kane.’

  Mancini’s eyes flared, but then his face softened. ‘I understand. You’ve been through a lot. I’ve known Jerry Kane for more years than I like to remember. Back in those days, the days I’ve already told you I’m not proud of, he worked for me.’

  ‘You taught him?’

  ‘You might say that. But I became an honest man. He never did.’

  ‘Was this before or after you moved into the trucking industry. Is that where he learned how to launder money?’

  Mancini took a deep breath. ‘You go too far. Be careful. I will not have Jerry Kane take my place at Rubicon.’

  ‘Even though that may see Rubicon shut down and your son-in-law ruined?’

  ‘He is already ruined. That happened as soon as he took Kane’s money.’

  It was the same room in which Senior Sergeant Robbins and Sergeant Ryan had questioned him on Friday. When Mike said he had a video and a voice recording for them, Ryan did not turn on their recording equipment, but went to find a laptop, which he placed at the end of the table so the screen was visible from both sides. Mike hesitated for a moment, but decided on the video first and pushed the data stick across the table for Ryan to load. The two policemen sat back to watch the rather jerky and at times indistinct footage of the various people arriving.

  ‘Where is this?’ Robbins asked.

  ‘The house of Angelo Rossi at Flinders,’ Mike replied.

  They appeared to have no need to ask the identity of the arrivals, except that Robbins did not know Vern. ‘Vern McKenzie, a director of Findlay Construction,’ Ryan told him. They began to lose interest at the lengthy coverage of the indistinct figures in the house and the clearer shots of the men around the barbecue. When Alan appeared, Ryan said, ‘Who’s this guy?’

  ‘Alan Reardon, deputy state secretary of the Building and Construction Union,’ Mike said.

  Ryan glanced at Mike and appeared about to ask a follow-up question when the chase began and his attention became fixed on the computer screen. Mike still found the brutality of Bruno’s attack on Alan sickening, even though he had now watched it four or five times. He found the coverage of the disposal of Alan’s body somehow anticlimactic and wanted the video to end so he could discuss the implications with the police, but they were equally interested in the aftermath as they were in the attack itself. When the video did eventually end, Robbins l
ooked across at Mike and said, ‘Presumably you were hidden somewhere nearby?’

  ‘Yeah, in thick bushes and trees which run down the side of the property.’

  Ryan gave Mike a sceptical smile and said, ‘You were with this man Reardon on some kind of secret surveillance caper? An unlikely pair – a union official and a project manager. How come?’

  ‘I’ll play you the voice recording.’

  This time the policemen showed no sign of boredom. When it was finished Ryan gave Mike another of his crooked grins.

  ‘Looks like you’re off the hook for the murder charge. We’ll have to content ourselves with doing you for trying to with-hold evidence. How did you record the conversation? Surely he checked you over before you started.’

  ‘Before we go any further, I need to speak with the boss,’ Robbins said. ‘I reckon there’ll be a few people want to talk with you about Jerry Kane.’

  Mike had been to Jim Findlay’s house on a number of occasions over the years, but had never felt this uneasy before. It had been late when he returned home from police headquarters and he had not slept well, so he was looking far from his best when he stood on Jim’s front veranda. Judith Findlay let him in, her carefully presented appearance contrasting with his dishevelled state, reminding him of the contrast he had felt on the day he first had lunch with Carla. At least his shiner had pretty much disappeared.