to go on.
Look, they knew who I was and
everything. The fat one breathes lolly breath all over me and goes, Wheres
the cash, Ken?
Sugarfoot stiffened. He said
involuntarily, Hobba. I smelt it on him this afternoon.
Jesus Christ, Ivan said, his voice
low and passionate. This is all your fucking fault. Last week you fucked up
Wyatts insurance job, today you go following him all over the place. Id like
to know how your mind works sometimes. What did you expect hed do? Take it
lying down? Hes telling me he can hit me where and when he likes.
Bullshit. Hes bankrolling. Hes
got a job on with Hobba.
So? That doesnt change the fact he
nabbed five thousand bucks of the outfits money. What am I supposed to tell Bauer?
Sorry, the takes a bit less this week. Jesus, they already got their eye on
me. Thisll convince them Im holding out. He looked across at Ken
Sala. Ill make up the difference myself. What Bauer and Sydney dont know wont
hurt them. Well deal with Wyatt later.
Sugarfoot shrugged. Suit yourself.
Just keep your trap shut, Ivan
said. Okay?
Then he sat next to Ken Sala on the
bed. He explained how none of this was Kens fault, and he, Ivan, would put it
right, and Ken could go on as before, so long as he kept his trap shut, okay?
Okay, Ken Sala said.
He fingered his neck worriedly.
* * * *
Twenty-one
Wyatt
called Anna Reid at six oclock and she said she had the polaroids, come around
any time, and now they were in her lounge-room and she was riding him on the
rug in front of her log fire, concentrating hard. He looked up at her face, the
parted lips, the eyes staring as if hypnotised by the patterns in the rug. Now
and then she came out of it, saw him and grinned, leaned over his face to give
him a nipple or to let the line of his cheek and jaw brush her breasts left and
right. Sometimes she clenched her face in a kind of fury, as if this were not
enough and she wanted to consume him as well. She would bite, ride him quickly
for a while, ease again.
This is what Ive been thinking
about, she said, not the money
In answer, Wyatt raised her a little
with his hands and pushed up. She bent her head back. Then he rested and she
lifted herself and they watched as she moved on him again.
When she pulled at his shoulder, he
rolled with her. She backed along the rug, wanting him to follow. She climbed
backwards into an armchair, Wyatt almost losing her, then flopped back, getting
her breath, while he moved in her again.
She said, I want to finish, yet I
dont want to.
Wyatt gravely took both her hands
and moved them down. She looked questioningly at him, then smiled slowly, and
he watched her long fingers begin working, circling, pushing hard at herself.
He was on the edge too so he watched her face, and when her eyes opened in a
kind of sorrow he let himself go.
The room was hot. They were
perspiring. Wyatt, arms locked to support his weight, looked down at Anna, who
watched him drowsily, her face swollen, heavy-lidded. She blew air between her
breasts and onto his chest and it felt like a cooling breeze.
After a while he pulled away and
fell back onto the rug. It was an expensive rug and he seemed to sink into it. I
feel exposed up here, she said, lying down with him. A moment later Masher
joined them, purring, coiling his furry back into Wyatts waist.
They slept. Later, stroking Annas
arm, Wyatt asked, Did anyone see you using the camera?
She groaned and stirred. Back to
reality. No. I waited till they were away from the office.
Did you get shots of every room?
She put her head on his chest. When
she answered, her voice seemed to amplify, to carry in his chest cavity. Every
room, the alarm system, the safe.
Wyatt tried to see her face. He saw
only her scalp through her hair. He flopped back again, looking around at the
walls and ceiling, the paintings, the light fittings. She had expensive tastes.
Soon he felt restless. Anna was
looking down the slope of his body, tracing its hard,
Look, they knew who I was and
everything. The fat one breathes lolly breath all over me and goes, Wheres
the cash, Ken?
Sugarfoot stiffened. He said
involuntarily, Hobba. I smelt it on him this afternoon.
Jesus Christ, Ivan said, his voice
low and passionate. This is all your fucking fault. Last week you fucked up
Wyatts insurance job, today you go following him all over the place. Id like
to know how your mind works sometimes. What did you expect hed do? Take it
lying down? Hes telling me he can hit me where and when he likes.
Bullshit. Hes bankrolling. Hes
got a job on with Hobba.
So? That doesnt change the fact he
nabbed five thousand bucks of the outfits money. What am I supposed to tell Bauer?
Sorry, the takes a bit less this week. Jesus, they already got their eye on
me. Thisll convince them Im holding out. He looked across at Ken
Sala. Ill make up the difference myself. What Bauer and Sydney dont know wont
hurt them. Well deal with Wyatt later.
Sugarfoot shrugged. Suit yourself.
Just keep your trap shut, Ivan
said. Okay?
Then he sat next to Ken Sala on the
bed. He explained how none of this was Kens fault, and he, Ivan, would put it
right, and Ken could go on as before, so long as he kept his trap shut, okay?
Okay, Ken Sala said.
He fingered his neck worriedly.
* * * *
Twenty-one
Wyatt
called Anna Reid at six oclock and she said she had the polaroids, come around
any time, and now they were in her lounge-room and she was riding him on the
rug in front of her log fire, concentrating hard. He looked up at her face, the
parted lips, the eyes staring as if hypnotised by the patterns in the rug. Now
and then she came out of it, saw him and grinned, leaned over his face to give
him a nipple or to let the line of his cheek and jaw brush her breasts left and
right. Sometimes she clenched her face in a kind of fury, as if this were not
enough and she wanted to consume him as well. She would bite, ride him quickly
for a while, ease again.
This is what Ive been thinking
about, she said, not the money
In answer, Wyatt raised her a little
with his hands and pushed up. She bent her head back. Then he rested and she
lifted herself and they watched as she moved on him again.
When she pulled at his shoulder, he
rolled with her. She backed along the rug, wanting him to follow. She climbed
backwards into an armchair, Wyatt almost losing her, then flopped back, getting
her breath, while he moved in her again.
She said, I want to finish, yet I
dont want to.
Wyatt gravely took both her hands
and moved them down. She looked questioningly at him, then smiled slowly, and
he watched her long fingers begin working, circling, pushing hard at herself.
He was on the edge too so he watched her face, and when her eyes opened in a
kind of sorrow he let himself go.
The room was hot. They were
perspiring. Wyatt, arms locked to support his weight, looked down at Anna, who
watched him drowsily, her face swollen, heavy-lidded. She blew air between her
breasts and onto his chest and it felt like a cooling breeze.
After a while he pulled away and
fell back onto the rug. It was an expensive rug and he seemed to sink into it. I
feel exposed up here, she said, lying down with him. A moment later Masher
joined them, purring, coiling his furry back into Wyatts waist.
They slept. Later, stroking Annas
arm, Wyatt asked, Did anyone see you using the camera?
She groaned and stirred. Back to
reality. No. I waited till they were away from the office.
Did you get shots of every room?
She put her head on his chest. When
she answered, her voice seemed to amplify, to carry in his chest cavity. Every
room, the alarm system, the safe.
Wyatt tried to see her face. He saw
only her scalp through her hair. He flopped back again, looking around at the
walls and ceiling, the paintings, the light fittings. She had expensive tastes.
Soon he felt restless. Anna was
looking down the slope of his body, tracing its hard,
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