eye
Wyatt saw Pedersen place something on his tongue and snap it back like a lizard
with a fly.
Oh terrific, he said, slamming
Pedersen against the wall. Hobba said you were clean. You said you were clean.
Only an upper, to focus me.
Focus on this. You want a hand on
your shoulder inviting you to come down to the station and turn out your
pockets? What else are you on?
Nothing. Take your fucking hands
off me.
With a contemptuous gesture, Wyatt
released him. They stood far apart, and waited, and the rain fell.
Listen Wyatt, Ive gone off the
hard stuff, okay?
Wyatt seemed to ignore him. Then he
shifted position. Ill only say this once. If youre on anything when we do
the job, or try to cross me in any way, youll be part of the food chain before
you know it.
Pedersen scowled and began to bounce
on the balls of his feet.
Then he stopped, suddenly alert. Check
this.
I see it.
A white Mercedes 380 SE had pulled
out of the line of traffic and stopped, brake lights flaring, outside Henris.
Thirty seconds passed. The people in the Mercedes seemed to be conferring.
This is it, Wyatt said. Stay with
me.
They approached the car, umbrellas
up, just as the woman in the passenger seat turned up her collar and reached to
open her door. Pedersen said, Allow me, maam, opening the door, holding his
umbrella over her.
Wyatt tapped on the drivers window.
The window whispered part-way down.
We have valet parking now, sir,
Wyatt said. Here is your receipt. Hand it in after your meal and someone will
fetch your car for you.
I dont know, the driver said. He
was overweight, grunting with exertion. He seemed to be suspicious, so Wyatt
steeled himself to run.
How much is this going to cost me?
the man said.
The woman stirred under Pedersens
umbrella. For Gods sake, Neil, give him the car. Its wet. Im going inside.
Its a free service, sir, Wyatt
said.
The driver got out, showing the
effort. If theres one scratch on this, just one, Ill have your balls.
You wont see a thing, Wyatt said.
Can you drive one of these? Its
not some Japanese tin can, you know.
Neil, the woman said.
Coming, coming, the fat man said.
Wyatt escorted him to the shelter of the awning above Henris front door and
watched him follow the woman inside.
Lets go, Pedersen said.
Pedersen drove, Wyatt directing, to
a public car park where Wyatt picked up the Holden. Then he led Pedersen across
the city to Sydney Road. Both cars drove steadily, obeying all the road laws.
They came to a suburb of narrow
streets, where small factories huddled between workers houses and the street
lights were faulty or broken. Wyatt parked the Holden a few metres beyond a set
of steel doors in a brick wall. A strip of light showed underneath the doors,
and a small sign on the wall said AP Motors.
Wyatt got out and walked back to
where Pedersen waited in the Mercedes. This is the place, he said.
He walked up to the doors, knocked
once, paused, knocked three times, and heard bolts being drawn back. A voice called out, Bring her i n. Quick about it.
Wyatt signalled to Pedersen to drive
in. He followed theMercedes into the shed and helped a man in overalls
to close the steel doors.
He looked around. The set-up looked
professional. A number of late-model Holdens, Falcons and Hondas were being
dismantled. Some battery-powered ignition drills lay on one bench, among tins
of corrosive solution for removing serial numbers.
The man who had opened the steel
doors waited in the shadows. Two other men stood motionless at the back of the
shed. A fourth man stepped out from behind a Jaguar XJS, saying, Merc, eh? Lovely
He wore overalls open to the waist,
and gold chains of various lengths around his neck. He stood before the
Mercedes, regarding it with his hands on his hips.
Very nice. Im Ray. Which one of
you is Lake?
I am, Wyatt said, ignoring the
proffered hand. He did not introduce Pedersen.
Ray looked from one to the other. Well,
youre both a bundle of
Wyatt saw Pedersen place something on his tongue and snap it back like a lizard
with a fly.
Oh terrific, he said, slamming
Pedersen against the wall. Hobba said you were clean. You said you were clean.
Only an upper, to focus me.
Focus on this. You want a hand on
your shoulder inviting you to come down to the station and turn out your
pockets? What else are you on?
Nothing. Take your fucking hands
off me.
With a contemptuous gesture, Wyatt
released him. They stood far apart, and waited, and the rain fell.
Listen Wyatt, Ive gone off the
hard stuff, okay?
Wyatt seemed to ignore him. Then he
shifted position. Ill only say this once. If youre on anything when we do
the job, or try to cross me in any way, youll be part of the food chain before
you know it.
Pedersen scowled and began to bounce
on the balls of his feet.
Then he stopped, suddenly alert. Check
this.
I see it.
A white Mercedes 380 SE had pulled
out of the line of traffic and stopped, brake lights flaring, outside Henris.
Thirty seconds passed. The people in the Mercedes seemed to be conferring.
This is it, Wyatt said. Stay with
me.
They approached the car, umbrellas
up, just as the woman in the passenger seat turned up her collar and reached to
open her door. Pedersen said, Allow me, maam, opening the door, holding his
umbrella over her.
Wyatt tapped on the drivers window.
The window whispered part-way down.
We have valet parking now, sir,
Wyatt said. Here is your receipt. Hand it in after your meal and someone will
fetch your car for you.
I dont know, the driver said. He
was overweight, grunting with exertion. He seemed to be suspicious, so Wyatt
steeled himself to run.
How much is this going to cost me?
the man said.
The woman stirred under Pedersens
umbrella. For Gods sake, Neil, give him the car. Its wet. Im going inside.
Its a free service, sir, Wyatt
said.
The driver got out, showing the
effort. If theres one scratch on this, just one, Ill have your balls.
You wont see a thing, Wyatt said.
Can you drive one of these? Its
not some Japanese tin can, you know.
Neil, the woman said.
Coming, coming, the fat man said.
Wyatt escorted him to the shelter of the awning above Henris front door and
watched him follow the woman inside.
Lets go, Pedersen said.
Pedersen drove, Wyatt directing, to
a public car park where Wyatt picked up the Holden. Then he led Pedersen across
the city to Sydney Road. Both cars drove steadily, obeying all the road laws.
They came to a suburb of narrow
streets, where small factories huddled between workers houses and the street
lights were faulty or broken. Wyatt parked the Holden a few metres beyond a set
of steel doors in a brick wall. A strip of light showed underneath the doors,
and a small sign on the wall said AP Motors.
Wyatt got out and walked back to
where Pedersen waited in the Mercedes. This is the place, he said.
He walked up to the doors, knocked
once, paused, knocked three times, and heard bolts being drawn back. A voice called out, Bring her i n. Quick about it.
Wyatt signalled to Pedersen to drive
in. He followed theMercedes into the shed and helped a man in overalls
to close the steel doors.
He looked around. The set-up looked
professional. A number of late-model Holdens, Falcons and Hondas were being
dismantled. Some battery-powered ignition drills lay on one bench, among tins
of corrosive solution for removing serial numbers.
The man who had opened the steel
doors waited in the shadows. Two other men stood motionless at the back of the
shed. A fourth man stepped out from behind a Jaguar XJS, saying, Merc, eh? Lovely
He wore overalls open to the waist,
and gold chains of various lengths around his neck. He stood before the
Mercedes, regarding it with his hands on his hips.
Very nice. Im Ray. Which one of
you is Lake?
I am, Wyatt said, ignoring the
proffered hand. He did not introduce Pedersen.
Ray looked from one to the other. Well,
youre both a bundle of
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