by Peter Corris
'Get you off the hook for killing the man who was identified as you?'
'Certainly. I admit I gave Selim the idea of pressuring Rosemary, but the detail's not important. That's not what I mean. I'm talking about a deal with the police to… absolve me of my…'
'Massive embezzlements.'
'If you want to put it that way, but believe me there's something very much bigger behind all this. Something global that would be of concern to every level of government in this country.'
Big talk, and probably rehearsed, but the trouble was he sounded as if he knew what he was talking about and I had just enough information to put flesh on the bones of what he was saying. I needed more, though.
I said, 'You've set up something big, got the ducks in a line, why not just run with it?'
No answer. I waited. 'Malouf?'
'Ah, good, you believe I'm who I say I am.'
'Fuck you. From everything I've heard, you're a lying, egotistical arsehole, so, yes, you've convinced me.'
I heard a sigh. 'Run with it, you say. I've been running with it. You can't imagine how hard I've worked. I'm tired.'
'You've done the dirty on Wong and Houli. You thought you could get away with that but now you have your doubts. I'm inclined to let you stew in your own juice.'
'That won't help you get your money back or stop your city from turning… cancerous.'
'What d'you mean?'
'That's the point-what do I mean? Talk to your principals. Talk to Inspector Chang and Sergeant Ali, talk to May Ling, but I'll tell you this-if Wong and Houli don't get a result soon they're going to feel some pressure and they'll destroy everyone in sight. I mean you, Standish, May Ling, Gretchen, Rosemary, Felicity, everyone! I'll be in touch.'
I didn't have the equipment set up to record phone calls any longer-I'd dismantled it some time after losing my PEA licence. I missed it now. I scribbled down as much as I could remember of what Malouf had said and wished I'd put some more questions to him. One would have been-how do you know so much about what I and others've been doing? There are ways of course, electronic methods, and it looked as though Malouf would be well up to speed on those, but the best method is to have someone on the inside keeping you informed.
I made a list of all the people Malouf had called my principals and scribbled notes beside the names-dates, brief details of character, attributes, meetings, likely motives. I had a lot of questions: were Chang and Ali all they appeared to be? Were Standish and May Ling consummate actors, playing both sides against the middle? What about Yusef Talat and Lester Wong? Could they be double-crossing their bosses? I didn't feel confident of these suspicions-too many gaps, too many breaks in the traffic. I looked at the list again and realised that I'd left one name off it-Richard Malouf. Maybe he wasn't sequestered on his high-tech boat; maybe he was out and about, monitoring all our activities. It was a thought, but I couldn't decide whether it was alarming or encouraging.
I needed an ally, someone to bounce ideas off and suggest strategies; someone to help. In the old days I would've turned to Frank Parker but I'd got him into trouble too many times before. Hank Bachelor was out; Megan had made it clear I wasn't to involve him in anything sticky. I looked at my list again-Sabatini. Why not?
I emailed Sabatini, setting out most of what I'd learned recently and telling him that Malouf had spoken to me. I knew that would hook him; no journalist can resist a Lazarus story. I implied that there was more to be said, and that I needed his expertise and possibly his hands-on help. A rock climber is a risk taker by definition, and Sabatini struck me as an ambitious type who probably had his mind on bigger things. Rosemary was definitely not a widow now, but there was a question as to whether she'd been legitimately married at all. I hinted at this. If their relationship was going full steam, what was more natural than that he'd want to be involved in dealing with the man who'd put her in danger?
I got an answer just an hour later. Sabatini didn't say where they were, but he'd been thinking about the Malouf business all the time and when he'd told Rosemary about my email she'd encouraged him to go back and help. I was reading the message when my mobile rang.
'Hardy, it's-'
I cut in. 'Be careful, there's a chance someone we know could be listening.'
'Shit, all right. She's safe with friends. I'm coming back. I'll be-'
'You'll be where you say you are when you get there.' 'OK.'
'Thanks. Think hard, we need ideas.'
'Can you give me anything more now? More to think about?'
'Yes, what is it that you most worry about?'
'Jesus, that's no help.'
'I know,' I said. 'Hurry back.'
22
I suppose I had some idea about Sabatini publishing something, maybe in his blog, and that drawing Malouf out into a meeting. Then we could hold him and either deal with the police or deal with Houli or Wong, whatever seemed to give the best result. It would depend on what he meant by 'cancerous', how serious the business they had set up really was.
It was a plan of sorts, an attempt to take the initiative. I didn't like the idea of just sitting around waiting for Dick Malouf to get in touch. When I'd mentioned the fact of the so far unknown dead man, he'd described it as an unimportant detail. Intelligence he undoubtedly had, and charm, to judge from the way he'd made himself appealing to women. That indifference to the life of another human being, though, also exhibited self-absorption. Just like Miles Standish, but worse. It was a serious weakness.
Most of the time I was comfortable in the house I'd lived in for many years, but occasionally the memories, good and bad, got to me and I needed to be somewhere else, preferably in company. I went down Glebe Point Road to the pub where I sometimes play pool but none of the people I play with was there. I had a drink and waited but no one I knew came in. I wandered off to an Italian restaurant where I could at least exchange pleasantries with the waiters and the owner. I was still down a few kilos and kept up the good work by ordering a salad, entree-size lasagne and a small carafe of wine rather than a bottle. When eating alone I read. I had another Shipway title, Free Lance, with me; not as good as Knight in Anarchy, but interesting enough.
The restaurant had benches rather than chairs and as it filled up it was usual to have to share the space. I was enjoying the food and wine and interested in the book and didn't look as a man slid into the seat beside me.
'Good book?'
The last thing you want. I nodded, keeping my eyes on the page. I felt a sharp prick below my rib cage on the left side and my head swung round until I was looking into the eyes of Lester Wong.
'I can slip this into your heart in a fraction of a second, Hardy,' he said quietly. 'It'll kill you instantly and there wouldn't be much blood. I'd jump up in alarm as you slumped forward and that would be that. What do you think?'
There was blood already; I could feel it trickling down my side. Lester wasn't looking at me now-just another customer waiting to order.
'Can I finish my dinner?'
'Of course. Take your time up to a point. We don't want to create a disturbance. Then you pay and we leave together.'
'You won't be able to keep the knife on me, Lester. I beat the shit out of you easily a while back and I could do it again.'
'Don't worry, I remember,' he said. 'But things are a bit different now. You see, we have May Ling in a car outside and if you cause any trouble we'll spoil her pretty face forever. Would you like to be responsible for that?'
I had weapons to hand: a knife, a fork, a glass and a carafe, usually enough to work with in a situation like this. But Wong's threat had that edge of menace that cut off all options. I put down the book and had a solid swig of the wine.
He took the knife away, leaving a small snick. The blood trickled a little harder. 'OK,' he said. 'That'll do. Let's go.'
It went smoothly. I was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and a longish jacket; the blood was well concealed. Lester stayed close but managed to look as if he'd just cha
nged his mind about eating there. We went out; Lester gestured at a people-mover parked close by and I saw May Ling through a window. Nobody took any notice as Lester escorted me towards the vehicle. A door slid open.
'Get in.'
Freddy Wong was sitting beside May Ling in the back row of seats. Lester pushed me towards the middle row. 'Any trouble?' Freddy said.
Lester said, 'Quiet as a lamb.' He said something in Chinese to the driver and the vehicle moved off. 'Say hello to your friend, Mr Hardy,' Freddy said. May Ling said nothing. I could smell her perfume until Freddy lit a cigarette. 'What's the idea?' I said.
Freddy puffed smoke; May Ling coughed and he laughed. 'It's about Richard Malouf. What d'you think? You're going to tell me everything you know that will help me find him, or my beautiful cousin's face will be beautiful no longer.'
'He knows about the boat. I had to tell him,' May Ling said.
I could feel the blood congealing a bit north of my hip. With luck it'd soak through my pants and make a mess of the seat. 'It's all right,' I said. 'Has he got Gretchen?'
'Sunny?' Freddy said. 'No, but I will get her if necessary. Perhaps it won't matter, that's up to you.' 'We don't know where Malouf is,' I said. Freddy opened a window and threw his butt out. 'We'll put that to the test. Just be quiet for a while and enjoy the ride.'
Broadway, George Street, Hay Street and into the heart of Chinatown. At street level a garage door in a large building opened electronically and we slid into a parking space big enough for half a dozen cars. It was already occupied by a sleek Alfa Romeo and a couple of working vehicles, a ute and a panel van.
We got out and Freddy ushered us towards an elevator. The driver came along as well-three of them and two of us. May Ling's hands were held together in front of her by plastic restraints. She wore the skirt of her suit and a blouse and looked cold.
I could feel, rather than see, Lester's knife close to my back. We went up three levels and came out in a short passage that led to what looked like a laboratory. Freddy guided May Ling into a chair by a bench and Lester shoved me towards a stool in a corner. The driver stood with his back to a wall.
'We used to knock up a bit of speed here,' Freddy said. 'It was good business for a time but the bikies made it tough after a while, especially the Lebos. A Lebo bikie is a mean bastard.'
'You'd know one,' I said.
Lester stepped forward and whacked me with a backhander. I saw it coming and eased back to reduce some of the force. It hurt, but delivering a solid backhander can throw you a bit off-balance and leave you open. It did, and I came at him with a heavy right to his ribs that sent him skittering. He raised the knife and the driver moved forward with his hands in a martial arts position.
'That's enough!' Freddy snapped. 'Settle down, Hardy. There's no need for this. We're talking and dealing here, I hope.'
He opened a cabinet over the bench and took out a couple of bottles and a beaker. He unscrewed the tops from the bottles and poured a little from one and a little from the other into the beaker. The mixture fizzed and gave off a wisp of smoke with an acrid smell.
'Now, this won't kill her. It won't even cause her to faint if I know May Ling, but it'll eat away at her skin and tissue beyond repair by any plastic surgeon.'
May Ling screamed. The sound went through me like a dentist's drill hitting a nerve. I jerked up and Lester flicked the knife across inches from my face.
'Good reactions,' Freddy said, 'very satisfactory. Now, I want to know everything, down to the last detail.'
There was nothing else to do. I told Freddy absolutely everything I knew about Richard Malouf and his involvement and Houli's. My phone call from Malouf was news to May Ling but she didn't react. Her eyes were focused on the beaker of acid. I left out where Rosemary and Gretchen were but nothing else. He listened carefully, stopping me only a couple of times with questions. Freddy was a very intelligent man, and one with long experience of applying pressure and assessing the results.
When I'd finished he spoke in Chinese to Lester and the driver and then turned his attention back to me. He moved the beaker away on the bench. 'One phone call only?'
'That's right.'
'Did he say when he'd call again?'
'No.'
'It seems we'll have to keep you alive.'
'For now,' Lester said.
Freddy smiled. 'It depends on how it all works out. D'you know what Chou En-Lai said when he was asked what he thought were the results of the French Revolution?'
I shook my head. I moved on the stool to get more comfortable and winced as my shirt came away from where it had been stuck by congealed blood to the cut.
'He said it was too soon to tell. That's how things stand now. It's too soon to tell, but you have certain things in your favour.'
'You'll let May Ling go?'
He laughed. 'That's another thing it's too soon to tell about. Now, what did you plan to do next, after you'd finished your cheap little dinner?'
I hadn't told him any more than that Malouf wanted to do a deal with the police, nothing about Sabatini. 'I was thinking about it when Lester stuck his knife into me,' I said. 'I was going to get in touch with Inspector Chang and try to set something up, act as a go-between, I guess.'
'You'd be happy to see Malouf get clear in return for destroying me and Selim Houli?'
I shrugged. 'I doubt it'd work out quite like that, but it's too soon to tell.'
I heard an angry grunt from Lester and got ready for another blow but Freddy laughed and raised his hand placatingly. 'Touche. Well, we'll just have to play along with you and Malouf, but I think we'll keep the police out of it. That's not to say you won't tell Malouf that you've contacted them. You're going to have to do a bit of acting.'
'You'll have to let me tap Malouf for some information as to what it's all about. He'd expect I'd need something more to get Chang interested.'
'You're right. I almost like you, Hardy; you're not completely dumb. You still want to understand things. I respect that. I'll have to try to make sure you don't learn so much that we have to kill you.'
'Try to make sure Lester understands that.'
An angry burst of Chinese from Lester made May Ling raise her head and shoot him a look of loathing.
Freddy lit a cigarette. 'Lester and I don't quite see eye to eye on this. I try not to kill people. It's bad for business.'
For the first time, May Ling spoke. 'You're killing Sunny, you creep.'
'Business,' Freddy said.
I said, 'What about Houli?'
'What about him?'
'Whatever this is, you're in it together.'
Freddy reached out for an empty beaker on the bench and drew it towards him. He dropped ash into it. 'So far,' he said, 'so far.'
23
I'd left Freddy with the impression that Malouf was on his boat which I didn't think was necessarily the case. He barked instructions to the driver who left in a hurry. At a guess he was going to try to find the boat, and as no one had had any luck at that so far, it didn't seem likely he would. Freddy picked his butt out of the beaker and dropped it in the acid. At the smoke and smell May Ling shrank back in her chair.
'Little reminder,' Freddy said. 'Lester, get his phone.'
I know less than nothing about satellites and electronic tracking, but I could see what was in Freddy's mind. He'd have someone try to track the source of Malouf's call when it came and be able to take the initiative. May Ling and I would be expendable. I thought Malouf would have found a way to prevent a trace but Freddy didn't know that. Maybe Freddy was reluctant to kill but Lester wasn't. Just at that moment, the phone was an asset. I took it from my pocket and juggled it as Lester moved towards me with his knife.
'No phone, no trace,' I said. I tossed it up and caught it.
Lester glanced at Freddy and that was my chance. I kicked Lester as hard as I could in the crotch. He yelled, dropped the knife and both his hands went down protectively. I headbutted him; he went down and I kept
moving. Freddy had the brains but not the moves. He was frozen for just a little too long. I pinned him back against the bench and grabbed the beaker of acid. Blood was streaming from Lester's forehead, but he recovered and crawled towards the knife.
'No!' I held the beaker at Freddy's shoulder.
Lester stopped. 'You wouldn't.'
I jiggled the beaker. The acid hissed. 'Try me.'
The blood was running into his eyes, blinding him. He rubbed at his face with his sleeve and swore in English and then in Chinese.
'May Ling,' I said, 'get the knife.'
She didn't move.
'Get the fucking knife!'
She pushed up from the chair and strode across the floor. She bent in one fluid motion for the knife and glided close to where I still had Freddy gasping for breath and watching the acid. She shoved the knife hard into his soft belly and had to use an upward ripping motion to pull it out. Freddy screamed and sagged towards her. She fended him off with the hand holding the knife and the blade went in again. I let him go and he fell to the floor with blood gushing over May Ling's high heel shoes. I took the knife from her hand.
It was a big knife, like the one in the movie Jagged Edge, and I knew how sharp it was. May Ling had dug it in deep, and it must have done drastic internal damage to Freddy because he was dead within a minute. Lester, still dripping blood himself, cradled his brother's head in his lap and wept.
May Ling and I left the room, took the lift to the ground floor and walked out of the building into the crowded street. As soon as the cold air hit her she began to tremble. I pulled her closer to the building line and put my arms around her.
'I murdered him.'
'He was a vicious bastard. He would have scarred you and Gretchen too if things hadn't pleased him. He had it coming.'
We stood until she stopped trembling and signalled that she was ready to move. I kept my arm around her shoulders and gasped once when her elbow nudged the cut in my side.
'What?'
'Lester cut me. Just a scratch.'
