by Peter Corris
Mortlake went to bed early or were glued to their flat-screen TVs. Hilly Street took me to the ferry. A sign said it ceased operation at six fifteen pm. Two cars were parked in front of the locked, three-metre high gate. One was May Ling's silver Peugeot; the other was the red Mercedes I'd seen in the garage at the Nordlung house. The ferry was drawn up to the dock and there was no sign of movement.
I had my answer to the changes since I was last here. Where the industrial operations had sprawled, there were blocks of townhouses. One set flanked the river and on the opposite side of the street, with a less expensive view, another was in a late stage of construction. Fairmild Cove was a small sandy beach beside the ferry wharf. A boardwalk ran away to the left, between the townhouses and the river. The moon was high and bright and I could glimpse a jetty poking out into the river a hundred metres away. A sign at the beginning of the boardwalk announced that it was on private property. The public had access, but the sign listed all the things that were banned along its length-almost everything. You could walk a dog on a leash. Forget the dog and it was Habib's milieu all right-waterfront residence with boat facilities.
The boardwalk was well lit but I grabbed a torch from the glove box before setting off-a big torch with heavy batteries. A useful weapon if needed. There were lights on in some of the townhouses and in the warmer months there would probably have been people out on the balconies sipping drinks and taking in the moonlit view. Not tonight, with a cold wind. The water slapped against the rocks at the base of the boardwalk and spray hit the chain that served as a handrail. It had a cold, clammy feel.
I rounded a bend and saw a series of jetties arranged in a rough H pattern. A few boats were tied up, not many. It looked like a perfect place for a marina but as if the idea hadn't yet occurred to anyone. Or maybe the money wasn't in the right pockets yet. I moved forward straining to see or hear anything that might tell me what was happening. The dull pulsing in my damaged ear that I'd grown used to was sharper, affected by the wind.
You're too old for this. Who'd said that? I couldn't remember.
'Hardy!'
May Ling rose up from a crouch near a point where the jetties branched and there was some kind of sculpture providing cover. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down as she pointed.
'They're on that boat,' she whispered. 'I don't know what to do. Help me, help her.'
30
It was possibly the first time in her life that May Ling hadn't known what to do.
'I saw her,' she said. 'Just a few minutes ago. She looked so wild, so mad. She had a gun.'
'What d'you mean, a pistol, a handgun?'
'No, something bigger, longer…'
'Like a rifle or a shotgun?'
'I don't know! I don't know! She's capable of anything. I'm so scared. She hates me, she hates herself, she…'
'Stay here.' I gave her my mobile. 'Stephen Chang's number's listed. Call him. Tell him what's going on.'
'I've got his number. I don't need your phone. What are you going to do?'
I didn't answer because I didn't know. I moved forward, keeping low and out of the pools of light until I reached the short dock where the boat was the only one moored. Under the moonlight I could read the name -High Five. It was big, not as big as some, but big enough, with a long mast waving in the wind and several satellite dishes mounted around the superstructure. Lights showed in the body of the boat. I crept closer until I could sort out where the lower deck began and how to reach it. There was an opening near the front where the rail had been folded back and pinioned. The boat was rocking gently; it was securely fastened, but a tide was building, running towards the harbour.
I stepped onto the boat and worked my way back to the deck where there was light. I could hear the faint hum of a generator. I moved clear of the raised section and peered around the corner to the awning-covered space. I couldn't see anything but I heard the unmistakable sound of people fucking-the creaking, the panting. A short set of steps led down to what had to be cabins and a living area.
The action heated up and then stopped abruptly. Sun Ling's voice, breathless, alarmed, disappointed, was an almost hysterical screech.
'Richard, no! Don't stop! Fuck you. I-'
I heard a heavy slap. 'Shut up, you stupid bitch.'
I was crouched at the top of the steps with the pistol in my hand staring down into the dimly lit space. Suddenly it was flooded with light. A man stepped out holding what looked like a machine pistol. He was naked and still half erect.
He looked like the Richard Malouf I'd met but not quite like him. His hair was lighter and the shape of his nose was slightly different.
'William Habib,' I said.
'Hardy, put down the gun.'
'You won't shoot me. You don't have to. Ali's under arrest. You've still got a shot at a deal with Inspector Chang.'
'The gun.'
There are killers like Lester Wong and Yusef Talat but Habib wasn't one of them. He wasn't cruel enough or frightened enough. I tossed the pistol over my shoulder and heard it hit the deck.
'We should talk,' I said.
Habib was only in his middle thirties and he'd been an athlete in more ways than one. I'd thought him vain on our meetings and he'd looked as though he'd taken care of his face and figure. Now, naked, with his penis slackening and holding half-heartedly onto a weapon he didn't want to use, he looked older and diminished.
'You trust Chang?' he said.
'As much as I trust anyone. He just now stopped Ali from killing me.'
'God, I never thought it'd come to this. You can set something up with Chang?'
'I can't guarantee everything you might want, but I'll tell you this-you'll have a better chance with him than on the run with Houli and Talat after you. Is Sun Ling all right?'
The grimace was almost a smile. 'When I called her that she almost bit my head off.'
'She's a troubled woman. Her sister-'
'OK, OK. Gretchen's probably pissed off with me. I seem to have that knack with women.'
He hesitated for a second and then put the machine pistol down. 'I'll put some clothes on and we'll talk.'
He stepped back into the cabin. It seemed too easy and I stayed alert, wishing I had the pistol within reach. I had the torch now feeling like not much of a weapon.
When Habib re-emerged he was a different man. He wore a dark silk shirt, white trousers and white deck shoes. His hair had been swept back and tidied. He bent, picked up the machine pistol, and made a beckoning gesture at the cabin. Sun Ling came out wearing a blue silk dress and what Germaine Greer called 'fuck me' shoes. She tottered, holding a hand up to her face. Habib steered her towards the steps.
'She's insurance,' Habib said. 'She seems to matter to you, Hardy. I'll kill her if I have to, to save myself. You have to understand that. The only person in this whole fucking world I care about is me. Got it?'
He seemed to handle the gun with a new assurance. He looked strong and Sun Ling looked frail.
'I believe you,' I said.
'Right. Let's get up where we can parley. Little Gretchen here shot up while we were talking before and she's in dreamland now, near enough.'
The contempt in his voice underlined what he'd said about his lack of concern for everyone but himself. Trouble was, that included me.
Still carrying his weapon, Habib hauled Sun Ling up the steps and dumped her on a recliner. He looked tired as he sat in one of the aluminium-frame chairs and gestured for me to do the same. I shook my head and leaned back against the rail. I let my eyes drift around, looking for the pistol, but I couldn't see it.
'Not going to do anything silly, are you?' Habib said.
'No. Are you?'
'You know this is an ocean-going vessel and I've taken on enough fuel to get me well out into international waters.'
'Just you and Sun Ling? Is that enough… crew?'
He looked down at the woman lying on the recliner. Her eyes were closed; her mouth hung slightly open and a thre
ad of spittle slid down to her perfectly moulded chin. He looked away with an expression of disgust.
'No, just me. Gretchen came intending to kill me with a spear-gun. I persuaded her not to the old-fashioned way. But I don't need the encumbrance. This vessel's state of the art-storm-proof, sink-proof.'
'That's what they said about the Titanic.'
He laughed. 'No icebergs in the wide blue Pacific.'
I edged towards him but he touched the gun and I stopped. 'Plenty of sharks, though, and you know the sharks that're really waiting aren't in the water.'
He frowned. 'That's your hole-card, isn't it?'
'I don't play cards. All that stuff bores me, but you and I know there are people in the Middle East and Hong Kong and the tax havens that're very interested in you. Not to mention our locals. They follow the money and if they lose track of the money…'
'OK, OK. You think I stand a chance with Chang- immunity, witness protection and all that?'
I studied him. Tired, stressed, he should have been more agitated than he appeared.
'I'm guessing you've got a plan B,' I said. 'You've put money and documents away in various places and reckon you can play another game from behind the official smokescreen.'
He nodded. 'You're speculating. The thing to do now is to drive the best bargain I can. You stay here. There are sensors and cameras all over this boat. That's how I knew you were aboard. Just give me a minute and we'll get this show on the road.'
Sun Ling coughed and appeared to be choking. I bent down to help and heard two thumps which didn't mean anything to me, and another noise that did. A heavy engine thundered into life and the High Five churned up the water as it swung away from the jetty and headed out into the river.
31
I ignored Habib's instruction and moved forward to the wheelhouse enclosed in a transparent cocoon. There were dials, screens and switches and flashing lights. Habib stood, with the machine pistol hanging by a shoulder strap, steering the yacht. The engine was purring quietly now, no need to shout. What he'd said about sensors and cameras must have been true because he saw me coming and swung towards me with the gun lifted.
'What the fuck are you doing?' I said.
'I feel safer out here. Call up Chang. We'll put him on the speaker and hear what he has to say. We'll deal or no deal.'
'And what if it's no deal?'
'Then you and Gretchen can swim for the shore and I'm gone.'
'She's in no condition to swim.'
'Too bad. You must have your bronze medallion or whatever they called it back in your day. You can save her. She'd be grateful, Hardy. Believe me, she can show her gratitude. Call Chang!'
The gun was pointed at me and Habib looked poised and confident, in charge of the yacht, the situation. I reached into my pocket for the mobile but it chirped just as I took it out. I answered.
'Hardy, this is Chang. May Ling called me. I'm on a police boat and we've got you in sight. What's going on?'
'Hang on,' I said.
I stepped out of the wheelhouse and looked around the wide, fast-running river. We were in midstream and the lights on either shore looked distant in a rising mist-further than I'd want to swim with someone in tow these days. A blue light cut through the haze and, squinting against it, I saw a water police boat moving quickly towards us.
'Better stay back, Inspector,' I said, loudly enough for Habib to hear. 'Habib's armed and dangerous, but he wants to… negotiate.'
Habib did something to the controls and the boat slowed. He came out to the rail and rammed the gun into my kidneys. 'Tell him I have hostages.'
'He has hostages,' I said, 'me and Gretchen Nordlung.'
Chang said, 'We can't communicate like this. I'm coming aboard.'
I told Habib what Chang had said. He shook his head.
'He can come close but not on board. I can get clear of that tub in a few seconds.'
I communicated this to Chang and the police boat drew nearer. Habib reached into the wheelhouse, flicked a switch, and the engine noise became a whisper. The yacht wallowed a little and I gripped the rail.
Habib laughed. 'What's the matter, Hardy? Getting seasick? This is a mill pond.'
'There'll be weapons on that police boat,' I said. 'If I were you I'd put that gun of yours down or you might give the wrong impression.'
'You've got a point. Now you just back off a few steps. That's right.'
As I moved away he unslung the gun and hung it on a hook within easy reach.
'I'm not sure this is going to work,' Habib said. 'Too many eyes and ears. I think…'
A sound inside the wheelhouse distracted him. He turned to look and I took two long strides and grabbed the gun. He grappled for it but lost balance as I swung away. I dropped the gun into the river. Sun Ling stepped from the wheelhouse holding my. 22. She seemed steady, eye and hand, and trained the pistol on Habib.
'Stand up, Richard,' she said.
Habib struggled to his feet. He leaned back against the rail.
'Don't move a muscle,' Sun Ling said. 'I learned to shoot in the States. I was good at it.'
'Easy, Sunny,' I said.
'You too. Back off.'
'I thought you took a hit, darling,' Habib said.
'I didn't.'
'I've got some if you want it.'
Sun Ling laughed, but the pistol didn't waver. 'We used to make love in his flat up there. He said he'd take me to Venice, Hardy. Venice! But he wasn't going to take me to Venice, was he?'
'No,' I said.
'I heard him. He was going to dump me in the fucking Parramatta River.'
She fired the full magazine into Habib's chest. He sagged against the rail. The police boat crashed heavily into the yacht and Habib went over the rail and into the water.
32
The rest of the important events of that night are sharp in my memory. Sun Ling dropped the pistol and tried to jump into the river but I held her until Chang and some of the water police came on board. She collapsed, and one of the cops who had the right training dealt with her-blood test (I told him she was a diabetic), fluids, blankets.
With his eyes on me, Chang picked up the pistol by the barrel from the deck and dropped it into an evidence bag. Then he went below and I heard him talking urgently on his mobile. I pulled my phone out, intending to call May Ling, but one of the cops shook his head and held out his hand for the phone. I handed it over, dodged around him and went down the steps. Chang was still talking. He stopped and stared at me.
'I'm looking for something to drink,' I said.
Chang told whoever he was talking to to hang on and went through the galley kitchen. He poured a glass of water and handed it to me.
'Touch anything in here, Hardy, and you're in more trouble than you are already-and that's a lot.'
Then it was lights and boats and an ambulance and cop cars with no sirens and an interview room and a statement and exhaustion. I don't remember who drove me home or how my pockmarked car appeared outside the house a day later. Then it was as if a big, impenetrable blanket had been thrown over the whole thing. No one wanted to unscramble the eggs.
The water police searched for Habib's body for several days, or said they did. Sharks are not unknown in that stretch of the Parramatta River.
May Ling and Standish organised a team of doctors, psychologists and psychiatrists and Gretchen was institutionalised without any charges laid or pending. May Ling told me there was a note on a file somewhere that Gretchen would be liable to undergo an official psychological assessment somewhere down the track, but she had plans to get her out of the country before that happened.
Karim Ali was allowed to resign. His record was doctored and silence was bought with a moderate payout and a reference that would permit him to get another job. He'd get a contract in the security network somewhere.
The police had me in their crosshairs. Possession of an unlicensed pistol was a serious offence, especially for someone with my record. Chang never actually mad
e the threat, but his one hint was broad enough. I had to play along with all the arrangements.
Chang told me that a technical team went over the boat as if they were excavating an archaeological site.
'There were layers of stuff,' he said. 'I don't pretend to understand what that means but I gather they had a lot of fun with de-encrypting, breaking firewalls, sifting passwords.'
I shook my head. 'Please don't use words like encrypting.'
Chang smiled. 'Anyway, they found mountains of emails and bank records detailing the businesses Habib had snared and the traps he'd set. I'm talking about here and offshore- the Middle East, the Gulf, Hong Kong, Taiwan, the UK, the EU.'
'What about the DFAT people?'
'Retirements and redundancies in the pipeline.'
'A cover-up.'
'Has to be, but that's not the whole of it. Habib and company had been importing drugs and weapons. The IT people say the documents-manifests, receipts, whatever- are brilliant. The stuff was in a network of self-storage places around the city and suburbs; all apparently legitimate and accessible, if you had the right information. They were starting to branch out into identity theft apparently, plus buying up domain names.'
'Cancerous,' I said.
He nodded. 'It looks as if it got too big for Habib and he came under some pressure when he tried to go solo. That may be why he wanted out. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. It's hard to tell. Apparently he kept a journal in a code they haven't deciphered yet.'
'So Habib had a lot to bargain with.'
'He did, but his dick did him in.'
'Houli and Talat?'
'Compromised.'
'What does that mean?'
'There's full documentation on Houli for tax evasion, fraud and extortion. Habib probably kept that on hold as insurance. He had similar records on Freddy Wong. No wonder they were after him. Talat is subject to deportation as an illegal immigrant with a criminal record. At least two countries would like to extradite him.'
'And a murderer.'
Chang shrugged. I looked at him. 'But?'
