Cross Kill

Twenty-seven

The first planning session in Melbourne was set for five o’clock on Monday afternoon. The Outfit had a town-house on permanent lease in a building on the fringe of the city. To get to it Wyatt and Jardine walked across Treasury Gardens from the Parliament underground railway station. The walk across the park was Jardine’s idea. ‘It’s been years,’ he said, turning his face to take in leaf canopies and shafts of sunlight. He pointed to trees and named them. Wyatt went along with it, making assenting noises in the right places, automatically watching for a tail.

‘Florida,’ Jardine said, as they waited to cross the road. He meant the Outfit building, its low lines, jagged roof-line, green facade, blue doors and window frames. Blue U-shaped pipes had been bolted to various parts of the walls; larger blue pipes were ranged along the footpath like candy hitching rails. They served no useful purpose. ‘Like something out of “Miami Vice”,’ Jardine said. Wyatt had no idea what he was talking about.

They paused outside the front door of the building. It was the sort of place that employed doormen between 7 am and midnight. Wyatt pressed a buzzer and watched a man in an ill-fitting uniform put his face to a microphone. A speaker scratched into life near the buzzer. ‘Help you gents?’

‘We’re here to see Mr Towns,’ Wyatt said. ‘Second floor.’

The doorman ran his finger down a page. Wyatt saw the man’s lips move, saw him nod, and a second later the electric lock disengaged and they were in.

They took the elevator. It opened on to a short hallway. There was only one door. Wyatt knocked and Towns showed them into a long, low room thickly carpeted and painted in shades of yellow. There were black leather armchairs and two other men unfolded from them as Wyatt and Jardine stepped into the room.

Wyatt knew Towns, knew how the man thought, so he ignored him. He didn’t know the other two. He gauged each one carefully. The younger man, introduced by Towns as Drew, wore a black, grey-flecked suit, grey shirt and red bow tie. He was about thirty, almost bald, and Wyatt thought he had the soft hands and hungry face of a man used to working white-collar scams. ‘Drew is our accountant,’ Towns said, as if to confirm Wyatt’s guess.

The other man belonged on the grimy streets. He might have been the brother of the bodybuilder who had tried to stop Wyatt in the Carlton alley. About twenty-five, big jawed, his hair tight and black, he was an impassive man with plenty of strength and grace about him-and menace. ‘This is Hami,’ Towns said. He didn’t say what Hami did. New Zealand muscle, Wyatt thought, letting the big man squeeze his hand, throw him a challenge.

‘Sit down,’ Towns said. ‘Coffee’s almost ready.’

Wyatt thought about the Outfit lineup. Towns would do the negotiating with the Mesics; Drew would look at their accounting; Hami would provide the muscle if it came to that. ‘Just you three?’

The man called Drew said, ‘Think we need more?’

It was a nasally voice riddled with sullenness, so Wyatt took another long look at him. Drew had a face driven by ambition and petty resentments. Perhaps he wanted to be where Towns was, but Towns was smart and would live a long time.

Wyatt said, ‘I don’t want you springing fresh faces on me over the next few days, that’s all.’

‘Just us,’ Towns said.

But the man called Drew wasn’t satisfied. ‘What about you? I don’t exactly see a commando team here. You mean to tell me you and your mate are going in alone?’

‘We don’t need an army,’ Wyatt said.

Wyatt had rules and he rarely took on jobs that broke too many of them. Any job involving more than five people was too messy. Any job set up by amateurs or strangers had too many question marks hanging over it. Anything that smacked of Hollywood special effects he left to the dreamers. And he rarely took a job on consignment. He preferred to leave a place with money that went into his pocket and no one else’s.

‘Just two of us,’ he said. ‘Clean, quick and silent.’

Drew scoffed. ‘Alarms, guards, dogs.’

‘I’ve seen where they live. I’m telling you I don’t need an army.’

‘What about equipment? I suppose you want us to supply everything?’

‘Just a bankroll,’ Jardine said. ‘Someone else is doing the shopping for us.’

Towns interrupted. ‘Drew, let him do his job, okay? We’ll do ours.’

The bald accountant shrugged. ‘Sure. Let’s hear what the expert has to say.’

Wyatt knew that he had to keep Drew happy. He had to keep them all happy. He nodded gratefully at Towns and began to describe the job, letting his gaze rest on everyone in turn, making them feel a part of it.

‘The Mesic compound occupies a couple of acres. There are two houses and a security fence. As far as I can tell, there are no guards, no dogs, no servants, just the two Mesic brothers and the wife of one of them.’

Drew was looking at the floor and shaking his head. Hami spoke for the first time. ‘How are you getting in?’

‘Good question,’ Wyatt said, looking at him frankly. ‘I’d rather go in without a fuss-no alarms, no damage- which means through the front gate. But until we know their movements, we can’t decide that. Jardine and I will watch the place for the next few days, rotating shifts, noting who goes where, and when, in which cars, noting when lights go off and on and in which rooms, the usual thing. If possible we’ll hijack one of the cars and get in that way, which may mean going in a day or a few hours in advance. If that doesn’t work, we’ll go through the fence somehow.’

‘That’s their problem, Hami, not ours,’ Drew said, giving Hami a look that said he was hired help and should keep his trap shut.

‘Two houses?’ Towns said. ‘How will you find your way around?’

‘I know where to get plans for the property.’

‘Okay,’ Drew said, ‘suppose you’re in, no hassles. Where does that leave us-sitting back until all the blood’s been spilt?’

Towns said, ‘There won’t be any blood.’

Wyatt turned his attention to the Outfit boss. Towns had the manner of an old-style professional, low key, methodical. The voice was mild; there was no challenge, squaring off or warning in it, no arrogance, just the facts.

‘In and out with a minimum of fuss,’ Wyatt agreed. ‘We’ll cuff the Mesics together in one room. Jardine will blow the safe, we’ll empty it and a few drawers, and clear out, leaving you the Mesics. What you say or do to them is your business.’

‘I don’t trust you,’ Drew said. ‘How do we know you won’t have their files, accounts, names and addresses under your arm?’ He looked at Towns. ‘We should go in with them.’

Towns was clearly irritated with the younger man. ‘Our friends just want cash. If it’s a trap, if things go wrong in some way, they cop the flack, not us. When we get the signal that it’s all clear, we go in, knowing they’ve done all the dirty work and taken most of the risks. Okay?’

‘What sort of signal?’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ Jardine said, ‘a light in a window, a flashing torch, a mobile phone, whatever you like.’

‘He can speak, can he?’ Drew sniped.

Towns put up a hand. ‘Everyone settle down.’

Hami growled softly, ‘Evening, when they’re winding down for the day, had a few relaxing drinks.’

Wyatt nodded. ‘Yes. I don’t want to do it in daylight and risk being seen. I don’t want to do it when they’re in bed, spooked by strange noises. If they’re still up, still awake, noises in the house won’t bother them so much.’

There was silence while they took that in. Then Drew said, still finding holes, ‘How are you getting there, how are you getting away?’

‘We’ll steal a government vehicle from a depot,’ Jardine said. ‘It won’t be missed overnight, if at all, and it won’t look out of place on the street.’

Drew looked at Wyatt. ‘Sounds like you boys have been holed up somewhere, putting your job together.’

Wyatt nodded, knowing what was coming next.

‘Can you give us an address, a number? In case we need to get in touch?’

Wyatt simply stared at the Outfit’s paper shuffler. He was staying with Jardine in a small house in Northcote. Jardine was a man who had uncles and cousins and it was a family that didn’t ask questions.

The silence lengthened, a stony neutrality on Wyatt’s face. Finally Drew said, ‘Suit yourself. Just don’t mess up afterwards, that’s all. Anyone can plan a job, pull it off-it’s avoiding the cops, keeping a low profile, where most crims come unstuck.’

‘You’re forgetting one thing,’ Wyatt said. ‘We’re robbing robbers this time. There won’t be any cops. It’s not cops I have to worry about, it’s people like you.’