October (14 page)

‘Clear as crystal,’ I said, grinning.

Boges stood up and carefully gave her a hug.

‘OK,’ she said, ‘now I’d better tell you guys how to get in.’

My stomach was churning with nerves as I sat next to Boges, both of us dressed in black, on our way to Sligo’s. I’d called on Nelson Sharkey for help, and he agreed to drive us and provide us with a quick getaway. I was gritting my teeth and trying really hard not to think about what we
were about to do. If I thought too much about the danger we were willingly putting ourselves in, I would have thrown up.

‘OK, guys,’ said Sharkey, slowing his car and pulling over a few hundred metres down the road from Sligo’s house. ‘This is as far as I want to go. I’ll be waiting here for you when you come out.’

‘
If
we make it out,’ said Boges.

I looked through the window and saw that we were parked out the front of a vacant lot. It would probably be developed soon and turned into an almost-instant homestead like Sligo’s. Up on our right was the café Repro and I had met Winter in before we stole the Jewel from Sligo’s safe. Further up the street was empty of parked cars, which I hoped meant no visitors just yet.

Boges and I climbed out in the twilight,
carrying
our backpacks behind us. We scurried along the street and disappeared down a lane at the rear of Sligo’s property. Winter had promised us that the security would be concentrating on the entrance of the house, leaving the backyard relatively unguarded.

I spotted the gate that Winter had left open for us, and we darted in, closing it again behind us. The layout was just as she had described—ahead of us was the long, glistening pool, lit up by underwater spotlights, and it was surrounded
by a sweeping terrace, lined with glowing bamboo lamps, that led to the house. There was movement inside, but from our position we couldn’t make out exactly who was there.

A few steps from the back gate stood the pool shed, a solid construction of timber that matched the decking. The shed door was slightly ajar. We slipped inside, closing it quickly behind us.

Boges turned to me and swore. ‘I can hardly breathe,’ he whispered. ‘What are we doing in here? This is Vulkan Sligo’s backyard!’

‘Too late to back out,’ I said. I was thinking exactly the same thing, but needed to keep it together. ‘We’d better set up.’

A small window let in just enough light to see a stockpile of pool supplies stacked near one end of the shed. Other than that there was a leaf blower and a big pair of gardening clippers. That was it. We quickly rearranged some of the bags of salt to make a barricade for us to hide behind.

Boges opened his laptop and we stared at the screen, waiting.

Footsteps approached the pool shed.

‘Someone’s coming!’ Boges hissed in my ear. He quickly shut his laptop as we ducked down.

The footsteps grew louder.

The door of the pool shed opened. We both lay pressed against the floor, the stink of a
chlorine-like substance filling my nostrils. I could feel Boges trembling. Or was it me?

After a clattering sound the footsteps receded, the door banged shut again, and a few seconds later we could hear the leaf blower working outside.

‘Last minute tidying up for the guests,’ I
whispered
. We both remained frozen, knowing that the leaf blower would be returned to the shed shortly.

After a few minutes the drone of the blower fell silent and we heard a voice shouting out from the house. I was sure it was Sligo. ‘Pour another bag of salt in the pool, while you’re at it!’

Boges and I looked at each other in horror. Anyone coming in to drag one of the bags of salt we’d used to hide behind would find us.

‘What are we going to do?’ Boges hissed, clearly starting to freak out. ‘What difference is a bag of salt going to make right now? The guy’s nuts!’

The footsteps approached again.

‘We’ll just have to overpower him!’ I said. ‘We have the element of surprise on our side. We’ll jump him and tie him up! Cover his mouth with—’

The door opened again and we flattened
ourselves
even further, but this time I was ready to pounce.

Whoever it was stepped inside the shed and
stowed the leaf blower away noisily. Then we heard a grunt, like the sound somebody makes when they sit down with relief.

What was going on? The guy wasn’t moving. He sure wasn’t grabbing a bag of salt from the
supplies
. I took a long, silent breath and peered out.

It was
Bruno
! And he wasn’t doing anything! He was just sitting there—taking a breather! Here, out of sight, he thought he could have a bit of a break from work!

It might have been a relaxing moment for him but it sure wasn’t for me and Boges! With my face to the floor, stray grains of salt and dust were irritating my nose.

Oh no! Not a sneeze coming on!
I mustn’t sneeze!
I pinched my nostrils, desperately trying to ward off the sneeze that was building in my sinuses. Boges glared at me, willing me to hold it back.

It was like a scene in a bad movie—the sneeze was welling up and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Any second now, I’d sneeze and he’d be right on us. We’d be captured!

The pool shed door was suddenly wrenched open. ‘Bruno, what are you doing in here?’ came Winter’s sweet, life-saving, voice. ‘The boss is looking for you! He’s not happy!’

Bruno groaned again and hurried outside, slamming the door behind him. The sound of the
door covered the sneeze that had finally,
uncontrollably
shot out of my mouth. I rolled over in relief.

‘Bruno is
Red Singlet
, right?’ said Boges. ‘I thought he was in jail!’

‘He should be! He must have some seriously good legal connections. Winter must have been
watching
the shed and came down to get rid of him.’

‘Just in time, dude. Just in time.’

The noise from the terrace was increasing as more and more guests arrived. From the shed, Boges and I could hear scraps of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

Once the guests moved inside the house, the yard became very quiet and we relaxed a bit.

‘Has she come online yet?’ I asked, impatiently looking at the screen. ‘She could be missing
something
important.’

‘She’ll switch it on once they’re all seated. Just wait.’

The screen of Boges’s laptop remained empty.

‘Are you sure your program is OK?’ I asked him, anxiously. ‘Surely she should be coming through by now.’

‘Chill, dude. Everything is ready and waiting. All Winter has to do is flick the switch—’

It was as if she’d heard Boges’s words, because the screen suddenly lit up to reveal Sligo’s living room and his guests, milling around the long table that ran up the centre of the space.

‘There they are!’ I said. ‘We’re in!’

Some of the guests were already sitting at the table, which was decorated with a huge bunch of red waratahs and white pillar candles in the centre, and lines of table napkins spreading like fans down either side. Others stood chatting in small circles.

We could hear Winter’s voice, offering to pour more drinks or invite people to eat a canapé.

‘There’s Sligo!’ said Boges, as the hidden camera turned suddenly, revealing him seated at the head of the table. He was talking on his mobile while Bruno—with his hair slicked back and wearing a suit jacket over his red singlet—sprawled beside his boss, watchfully scanning the group.

The camera moved closer to Sligo. ‘Winter’s doing really well,’ said Boges. ‘Moving nice and steadily. Giving us some nice close-up shots.’

‘Oh, no,’ I said as the camera approached Sligo’s other companion. ‘It’s Zombie Two! What if he recognises Winter from the car yard?’ The camera swerved away quickly, then returned to Zombie Two, as though Winter had done a double-take.

We waited, tense and fearful, as we heard Winter offering him a drink. I watched his face intently on the screen, looking for any signs of recognition, but he barely looked up as he took a glass of red wine from her tray. I heaved a sigh of relief.

Soon it seemed that everyone was seated and waiters appeared carrying steaming bowls of soup.

‘There she is,’ said Boges, indicating the
intimidating
presence of the criminal lawyer, Oriana de la Force, as she sat down a few seats away from Sligo. ‘Check out the hair!’

Her red hair was swirled up like a big pile of spaghetti, and pinned down with some sort of feathery fascinator—like girls wear to the races—which almost looked like a bird had dive-bombed and crashed into her bun. We couldn’t see the colour of the dress, but I guessed it was purple—that seemed to be her favourite colour. It had a strange collar like a shelf that ran all the way around her shoulders.

Sumo sat beside her, fiddling with Oriana’s silver cachous box, picking it up and dropping it back onto the table. There was no sign of Kelvin.

Oriana snapped, snatching the box from Sumo, making him jump.

‘Hang on,’ said Boges, suddenly alarmed.

‘What is it?’

‘Isn’t that Sheldrake Rathbone,’ he added in surprise, ‘sitting next to Sligo like he’s his
right-hand
man?’

‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ I said, squinting at the screen. But then, sure enough, the slimy solicitor came into focus, wearing a flower in his buttonhole and a smirk on his face. ‘They must be working together! What a
creep
! I should have known he was in deeper than he let on!’

At that moment, Sligo handed Rathbone a wooden box, like a cigar case. There were too many voices overlapping and I couldn’t
understand
what he was saying. Just how involved was Rathbone?

‘Did he just say something?’ I asked.

‘Patience, my friend,’ said Boges. ‘At this stage, they’re all just making small talk. They’ll settle down in a minute. Hang on,’ said Boges,
sounding
even more shocked at someone’s presence. ‘Isn’t that Murray Durham sitting there? Murray “Toecutter” Durham?’

‘So it is,’ I said, cringing. ‘He doesn’t look too healthy. And he’s with his bodyguard—the guy who lives in the house Winter and I broke into to get back her locket!’

The men at the table were all dressed in suits, but there was no hiding the tattoos that snaked up their necks, or the scars that disfigured their
hands—these guys weren’t as clean cut as they hoped to appear.

‘I can’t believe the crims that are here,’ said Boges, ‘all gathered in one spot. The hornets’ nest. And here we are, spying on them, hiding in the pool shed out the back!’ he said with an uncomfortable laugh.

For a while, all we heard were the sounds of people eating and drinking and the occasional laugh, but none of this came from Sligo, Oriana or Rathbone. Whenever Winter’s camera panned to their faces, they looked very unhappy.

‘Winter’s in a really good spot,’ I said, noticing how she’d joined the guests at the table now, and had positioned herself in such a way that we had most of Sligo on screen and about three-quarters of Oriana. ‘She’s good and close to the two people we’re most interested in. The two deadly enemies having a meal together. I just hope she’s sitting close enough for us to hear them talking. If Sligo’s planning some massacre, like Al Capone,’ I said, ‘we’ll have it all on video …’