Wyatt - 06 - The Fallout (16 page)

That was interesting. Raymond
turned. Chaffey is Steers banker?

Its safer that way.

Huh.

Raymond sank into an armchair,
hunted in the cane magazine rack for something better to read. He turned to the
back of the
New Idea,
looked at the candid shots of the rich and famous.
Fergies tits, Richard Gere shopping incognito, Australias own Nicole Kidman
on a beach with her sister and a heap of kids.

Still only 9.30. Want another coffee,
Denise?

I mean, how long do we wait? When
do we know theres no point in waiting for him?

Got me there, Denise.

He found the Maxwell House and
spooned coffee and sugar into a mug. Turned on the kettle, then discovered it
was switched off at the wall. Lunch. At least there was that to look forward
to. He peered in the refrigerator. They had to shop. Get him out of the house
at least.

Denise had trailed after him into
the kitchen. She climbed onto a stool at the bench. Or what if hes had an accident?
What then? Hell be arrested. If hes hurt, hell need me, hell call for me. Ill
have to come, even if it means Ill be arrested as well.

Are you mad? Theres no fucking way
that
Im
going to gaol for your boyfriend.

Raymond slammed the cutlery drawer.
Jesus Christ, what a stupid bitch. We need some things at the shop, he said
finally.

Ill stay here, Denise said
complacently. He may come back.

Raymond hadnt intended to take her
with him in the first place. Anything you need in particular?

A paper, she said. She gave a coy
little shiver. I want to see if they spelt my name right. They could even have
pictures.

Raymond went cold. Pictures. He
forced himself to relax. Sure, theyd have pictures of Steer and Denise; no
reason why theyd have a picture of him.

And orange juice and vodka, she
said.

Good. Drink yourself into a stupor. Got
any cash?

Denise turned sourly and went to her
room. She came back, carelessly shoved a folded fifty at him, as if offering a
tip to an undeserving waiter. I want change.

Youre a sweetheart, Denise. Id go
for you myself if you werent already taken.

The reply strangled in her throat
and the tears spilled. She turned away from him and Raymond shrugged and left
the house.

In a shopping centre over the next
ridge he bought a
Herald Sun,
groceries and vodka. Steer and Denise were
on page three. The photo of Denise was ten years out of date. Her aunt in
Cranbourne begged her to notify the police that she was still alive. There was
no-one who wanted Steer back. Raymond found himself referred to simply as the
getaway driver.

He sat in the Jag and used the car
phone. Got the answering machine at Vallances flat in Hastings; no Vallance or
Roden registered at the Windsor. Raymond felt frustration begin to settle in
his bones. If Allie had been around he could have slipped down to the city this
afternoon, fucked her brains out for a couple of hours, been back in time to
babysit Denise before it got dark. He looked at his watch. Only another eight
hours of daylight to get through.

Raymond drove back to the house,
Allie stirring in his minds eye. There would be time, if he could find her. He
had until midnight before he was supposed to take Steer to meet the coastal
freighterthats if Steer was going to show up. Raymond had his doubts. Steer
was probably well away by now. Hed done a runner, had his own agenda, wanted
to dump old Denise without having to listen to a lot of crap first.

At one oclock Denise said, two
vodkas under her belt, Where are you going?

Out, Raymond said.

Where? Tony might come.

Face it Denise, hes long gone.

Her face dissolved again. Dont say
that. Wait with me, please?

He unhooked her stumpy fingers from
his sleeve. Ill be back early evening, okay? I cant hang around here all
day. Got things to do. Got a life of my own, you know.

Youve been paid to look after me.

Raymond pointed at the vodka bottle.
Suck more piss. Dull the pain.

He left her crumpling behind him and
whisked the Jag down into the city. Called at his flat, slipped on his good
gear, went to the casino, feeling as eager as a kid at school who had the hots
for someone.

But Allie wasnt there. Nor was
Vallance.

And so he sat at his table and, in a
cold rage, gambled away a third of the fifteen thousand dollar fee that Chaffey
had given him to spring Steer from gaol, leaving him short for the deposit hed
promised Vallance.

The Warrandyte house was in darkness
when he got back. Raymonds mood by now was
fuck this for a joke,
and he
went in with Denises shopping-list Ruger in his hand, jacking a round into the
chamber, screwing on the suppressor.

The place stank, as if shed been
drinking all day, shut away in misery, too depressed to turn the lights on when
the sun went down.

Unless the cops had been. Unless
Steer had some little surprise lined up for him.

Raymond edged through the dark
house, letting the bitter disappointments of his afternoon give way to
hair-trigger nerve and preparedness. He heard the floorboards, saw the shape
poised against the moonlit window, and raised the Ruger to fire.

But it was Denise, foggy with booze.
She slurred her lovers name. Tony?

Raymond scraped his hand over the
wall, looking for the light switch. He couldnt find it, so let his eyes adjust
to the tricky light of the moon filtering through the crowding trees outside
the house. No such luck.

She came across the room, only half
comprehending him. Ray? You brought Tony with you?

Face it, Denise, hes done a
runner.

She wailed. Raymond had never heard
anyone wail before. It acted on him like a migraine, like fingernails
screeching down a blackboard, and he put both hands to his head to make it go
away. The Ruger knocked his skull. Ouch. Will you fucking quit that?

She stopped a metre away, her mouth
wide, tears glistening on her face. Hes hurt somewhere, I just know it.

Get your act together, Denise.

She made to turn away. I should
ring the hospitals.

Raymond yanked her around by the
arm. Yeah, right, ring the cops as well while youre at it.

She stood miserably then gathered
herself and said, with drunken cunning: Youve got a phone in your car.

Forget it.

She came chest to chest with him. Just
a couple of calls. I wont give our names. Please? Pretty please?

Revulsion welled in Raymond. He
pushed her hands away. You disgust me.

She changed again, fierce and
concentrated now, intent on prising the Ruger away from him. You cant talk to
me like that.

They seemed to perform a kind of
shuffling dance across the floorboards. At one point the suppressor on the
barrel of the Ruger flipped up and smacked bruisingly against Raymonds cheek. Christ,
will you bloody well

He should have switched the gun to
safety when he had the chance. He should have shoved it away in his waistband.
It went
phut
in the tangle of their hands and Denises head snapped
back. Her fingers clenched, relaxed, and she dropped to the carpet like a
stone.

He found the light switch and with
the return of his senses, Raymond saw that Denise had been shot smack bang in
the centre of her face. His first reaction was to swallow, once, again. He
opened his mouth to speak. He shivered, looked around for help.

A moment later he shook off his
attack of nerves. He thought, serve the bitch right, she was redundant anyway.

The more he thought about it, the
more he realised that what they didnt know wouldnt hurt themChaffey, Steer,
the police. Yeah, shed simply decided she couldnt hack the pressure any
longer and shot through, caught the first bus to Queensland.

He wondered if he was losing his
edge a little. Hed always felt in control before. Allie Roden, the treasure
they were doing something to him.

The jitters came when he wiped the
place clean, buried Denise with her stuff and drove back to his flat. The
jitters threatened to shake him apart when, as he turned the key in his front
door, a hand clamped on his arm and a voice growled, Raymond.

* * * *

Twenty-three

Take
it easy, son, Wyatt said. Didnt mean to scare you.

Raymond breathed out heavily. Youre
a sight for sore eyes. Come in.

They walked through to the kitchen,
where Wyatt peered keenly at his nephew under the unremitting fluorescent
light. Are you okay?

There was a bruise on Raymonds
face. He wore a distracted air, an edge of hysteria under it. He gathered
himself. Im fine. Rough night, thats all.

Six oclock in the morning. A long
night.

Yeah, well, you know, Raymond
said.

Theres blood on your sleeve.

Wyatt saw his nephew start violently,
turn his shirtsleeve this way and that. This guy tried to mug me.

Where?

Raymond blinked, grew more
concentrated. King Street, outside one of the clubs. I fought the bastard off.
Anyhow, what about you? What gives with the haircut?

Wyatt rubbed his shaven dome. Im a
known face in this city.

Raymond shrugged, losing interest.
Then he yawned widely and stretched his back. Rough night.

Wyatt said, I want you to take a
shower, then have something to eat, then well talk.

Im right.

No youre not.

Raymond weaved out of the room. The
shower, food and coffee gave him the sharp edge that Wyatt was looking for.
Half an hour later they sat at a table in the harsh kitchen light, Wyatt with a
pad and a pen at his elbow.

Fight. I went to look at the
building where the paintings are stored. It can be done. He drew rapidly. These
are possible exits. As you can see, the place is like a sieve.

Raymond gulped a second cup of
coffee. Chaffey mentioned nightwatchmen.

Id rather deal with a
nightwatchman than cameras and alarms, Wyatt said.

What do we do if it goes wrong?

Wyatt looked at him. Lets say you
walk into one of your bush banks to rob it. Theres a cop at the counter,
paying his mortgage. What do you do?

Raymond shrugged. Turn around and
walk away from it.

Exactly.

There was a pause.

Whats on your mind, Ray?

Just going through the scenarios.
We could shoot through, not bother with Chaffey. I mean, fifty grand each, its
not much. Wed get more selling the collection ourselves. Or, he said,
grinning, I could shoot through on you, take the collection with me.

Wyatt didnt take the joke. Id
hunt you down. Never cheat your partners. They have very long memories. When its
an institution theres nothing personal at stake. With a partner there is, and
if hes like me, hell hunt you down.

Raymond shrugged. He was full of
sulky gestures, like a teenager out to stir an adult. Why not invest the
paintings in some coke, some pink rock from Thailand? Cut it, sell it, wed get
a million back easy, maybe more.

Wyatt seemed to snap like a coiled
spring. His expression was direct and unnerving as he grabbed Raymond by the
throat. No drugs.

Lighten up, Unc. Just a joke.

I never deal with that stuff.

Maybe you should go with the flow.
Youre out of date.

Wyatt knew that his nephew was
stirring. Even so, a rare feeling welled up in him. He wanted to slap some
sense into his nephew. If Raymond were anyone else hed have walked away.

But he said nothing, just let the
heat dissipate.

Raymond felt the force of Wyatts
stare. He said uneasily, Its okay. I was only joking. Im not a user or
anything.

Good.

After another pause, Raymond asked,
genuinely wanting to know: How come you dont pull the big jobs any more? You
loaded or something, just keeping your hand in for the fun of it? These
paintings, for fifty grand, hardly your style.

The answer rose unbidden in Wyatt. Im
tired.

Raymond stared at him, his brow
creasing. He seemed to be touched a little with panic and confusion, as though
Wyatt had identified a hard, necessary and inescapable fact of existence. You?
No way known.

Wyatt said, All right. Not tired.
But there are two things going against me: technology and time. Its getting harder
to break into places, and the people I used to trust are all dead and gone.

As if to bolster Wyatts spirits,
Raymond clapped his hands together and said, I wont let you down.

Good. Time to let this Chaffey
character know.

Raymond stared at the wall, grimaced
as if swamped by bad thoughts. Chaffey?