Crooked by Camilla Nelson

over him.’
    â€˜Cripes,’ said Chooks, impressed.
    â€˜Sensational,’ said Johnny, poking Chooks in the ribs.
    â€˜My God, Johnny Warren.’ Glory got up abruptly, and stared down at the pair of them. ‘I’ve never heard a worse idea. The sound of screaming will bring folks running for miles.’
    â€˜I couldn’t imagine a bloke like Dick Reilly screaming,’ said Johnny.
    â€˜Yeah, well you might not even kill him, and then what?’
    â€˜I guess I could get in an extra shot with the Parker Hale, just to make sure.’
    â€˜Smash in his head with a meat cleaver or something,’ Chooks chortled, then stopped as abruptly.
    â€˜I’ve made a great study of the plans,’ said Johnny. ‘Petrol is only one of the options. Either way, I’ll need some back-up, a good driver to make a getaway from the scene, for instance.’
    Chooks sat there, cheeks drawn in, eyes blurry with concentration. ‘It’s not often that I agree with Glory, but this incineration business, I reckon I’m fully against it. Thieving and gambling is where my skills are. This thing …’ he shrugged. ‘I reckon I don’t have the relevant experience.’
    Glory exploded – Chooks’ obtuseness was infuriating. ‘I’m glad you don’t often agree with me, Chooks, but don’t you reckon you owe Johnny something on account of his being banged up an extra three years for you?’
    â€˜I was in gaol too.’ Chooks hung his head. ‘Anyway, it’s ancient history.’
    â€˜Sure. You got banged up for two years, and it’s a mystery to everybody as to how Johnny got five.’
    Chooks scrambled to his feet. ‘You calling me a fizgig?’
    Johnny put a calming hand on his shoulder. He steered Chooks out of Glory’s earshot and said, ‘Look, mate, I can’t give you the money Moylan wants, I’m broke myself. But if you have any further thoughts about the Reilly job, then I’m prepared to double my existing offer to one thousand dollars.’
    â€˜Gosh,’ said Chooks, and took a deep swallow. ‘Only I dunno that I ought to be doing a thing like that. Killing a bloke, I mean. Not even for money or nothing.’
    â€˜Chooks,’ said Johnny. ‘This is not even killing. It’s self-defence.’

Gus sat in a red leatherette booth at the Corinthian Milk Bar talking to Agostini over breakfast. ‘Maybe it’s just like Tanner says. Maybe O’Connor arrives at the Latin Quarter and shoots himself, and the guns get messed up in a debacle at Scientific Investigations.’
    â€˜How can you suggest such a thing after the stuff you’ve found out?’ Agostini gaped at his friend in astonishment. ‘I’ve been at CIB five years longer than you, and I know there are coppers who are raking in a heck of a lot more than an extra dollar here and there.’ He heaped three spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. ‘I reckon your loyalty is misguided. I also reckon you’ve got to make a choice where you stand.’
    â€˜On the right side.’
    Agostini laughed. ‘I reckon you can’t see the difference.’
    Gus flared. ‘I’ve got no love for crooked coppers, but this is Tanner you’re talking about. Reg Tanner,’ he repeated, taking in an unsteady lungful of smoke. ‘Show me some evidence that says something to the contrary –’ He stubbed out his cigarette in his saucer and knocked over his cup, spilling the black sugary liquid over his trousers.
    â€˜No worries.’ Agostini pushed a handful of paper napkins across the table.
    Gus dabbed his trousers then paused, as a long purplish shadow fell over the table.
    â€˜Speak of the devil,’ said Agostini.
    Pigeye Donaldson, dressed in a loud batik shirt and Panama hat, walked up to the table. ‘Oi, Gus. I’ve been looking for you all over the place. Tanner wants us to