Kick Back

Thirty-four

The woman had said two o’clock but Bauer got to the Caribbean Apartments at one o’clock. He drove slowly past the entrance, parked in a nearby street and walked back.

He stood for five minutes on the footpath at the fenceline, where he could not be seen, and watched and listened. Sala had not drawn his curtains. Bauer saw him pass from room to room, singing, occasionally standing as if in doubt about something.

The fence was a low one and Bauer stepped over it and crossed the lawn to the side of the apartments, to a shaded area under an ornamental tree. He took out the.22, checked that the clip was full, and fastened the silencer to the barrel. He felt sharp and alert. He hadn’t eaten, and knew that his blood was pumping fast on his empty stomach.

He crouched and circled the building, straightening only to make a rapid inspection at each window. In Cher and Simone’s apartment the curtains were closed, but he could hear voices. They’ll be getting ready for their afternoon clients, he thought, and knocked on their door.

Cher opened it. She wore a close-fitting black dress and light make-up. Her feet were bare. She recognised the thin lips, the gaunt, tense frame. The colour drained from her face. ‘I didn’t know it was you,’ she said. ‘All I had was a number.’

Bauer entered and locked the door behind him. As Cher turned away to precede him into the flat, his arm went around her neck and he pressed the pistol against the base of her spine. He began to probe with the barrel, as if seeking her anus, then spun her around and pushed her against the wall.

‘Tell me what you know,’ he said. He watched her closely. Then he began to twist her breasts with his free hand. It was a studied act of loathing.

She swallowed audibly and grimaced in pain. She whispered, ‘Someone robbed Ken on Tuesday, and he thinks the same ones did that job in South Yarra.’

‘Where is Simone?’

Cher jerked her head. ‘In there.’

‘We will join her’

Cher led him into the lounge-room. Simone was standing on the rug in the centre of the room, staring at the burning logs in the fireplace. Without turning around to face them she said, ‘If that was Ken I hope he had something good lined up for a change.’

‘Not exactly,’ Cher said.

Something in the voice made Simone turn around. She saw Bauer with the gun pressed under Cher’s jaw, paled, and stepped back. ‘What’s going on?’

Bauer pushed Cher forward, saying, ‘Over there by your whore friend.’

When they were standing together on the rug he said, ‘Now, tell me everything. Everything.’

Simone, less frightened than Cher, laughed briefly. ‘I suppose this means we dip out on the reward, huh?’

Bauer stepped forward, taking a knife from his pocket. He touched the point to her earlobe. At first she didn’t realise that he’d nicked her with it; but then she felt blood pool in a hollow at the base of her neck and run down onto her breast. She stood stock still. ‘You dirty bastard,’ she said, in a low, passionate voice. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’

‘Talk,’ Bauer said.

‘Someone robbed Ken. The Youngers came over and roughed him up as if it was all his fault. They tied him up so he nearly choked. He’s been good to us. They didn’t have to do that to him.’

Bauer frowned. ‘What has this to do with anything? Are you lying? I was paid as usual. Nothing was said about a robbery.’

‘Maybe, but the Youngers are covering up. Someone hit Ken, the Youngers know who it was, and Ken thinks it’s got something to do with that other job, the reward one.’

Bauer began to feel his control slipping. Confined spaces made him nervous, and Simone’s blood made him think of AIDS. He had the sensation of a creeping corruption in his bloodstream. He pushed her away. ‘You will say nothing. You will behave as if nothing has happened,’ he said, backing out of there, his face twisted with disgust.

Once outside again, he breathed in and out deeply and walked around to Ken Sala’s door and pressed the doorbell.

Inside he heard Sala call, ‘Who is it?’

Bauer said nothing. He pressed the bell again.

This time Sala stood close to the door. ‘Who is it?’

‘Open the door,’ Bauer said.

He didn’t wait for the door to open fully before pushing through. Sala fell back against the wall. ‘You,’ he said. He was puffy-faced and he’d been drinking.

Bauer took out the.22 and pushed Sala into the bedroom, grinding the end of the silencer under his jaw.

‘Tell me what happened.’

Sala focused slowly. ‘Did the girls tell you? We were ordered to keep it quiet.’

‘You may tell me,’ Bauer said coldly.

‘On Tuesday I’d just collected the take when these two guys came bursting in and roughed me up and took the lot.’

‘Who were they?’

‘Never seen them before.’

‘Perhaps you’re dissatisfied. Perhaps you decided to take a bigger slice.’

Sala was frustrated. ‘That’s what Sugarfoot said. You got to believe me-I was robbed. I got a good thing going here. I wouldn’t fuck that up. I mean, Jesus.’

He had his hands flat on the bed next to his thighs. He rocked back and forth. He was terrified and more than likely telling the truth.

More than likely: it was qualification enough for Bauer to fire the pistol. There was a small spurt of blue flame and two almost co-existent sounds: the huff of the silenced shot and the punch of the bullet through Ken Sala’s left hand.

Sala looked down. There was little to see at first, but then blood began to seep from the small puncture wound on the back of his hand. He slowly raised the hand and examined it, both sides. Then he tucked it in his armpit. He said, disbelievingly, ‘You shot me.’ He looked down at the bed cover, at another puncture mark, stained red at the edges. ‘You bloody well shot me.’

He began to wail terribly. The rocking grew more agitated and he slid off the bed and onto the floor.

Bauer straddled him. ‘Tell me about the two men.’

‘I don’t know,’ Sala said. ‘I don’t know.’

He tried to get up, but felt Bauer’s foot on his face.

‘Answer me,’ Bauer said.

Sala twisted and twitched beneath the foot like some baffled animal shot in the spine. Again he tried to raise himself and again Bauer held him down.

‘Are you ready to answer me?’

Sala went still. His chest was heaving. ‘Two of them,’ he said. He jerked as if to rid himself of the heavy foot.

‘Two men. That is not specific,’ Bauer said. ‘Describe them to me.’

Sala burped and coughed suddenly, enveloping Bauer in a fug of stale alcohol and panic. He said, ‘Let me up, please. I can’t think down here.’

Bauer removed his foot and stepped back. He watched as Sala climbed to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Begin,’ he said.

‘They wore balaclavas. But the Youngers seemed to know who they were.’

‘Who?’

‘Wyatt was one. Hobba. I never heard of them.’

‘What else?’

‘Ivan thinks it was personal, Sugar thinks they’re funding a bigger job.’

‘What do you think?’

Sala was rocking to and fro on the bed. ‘I don’t think anything. I was told to shut up about it. What happens now? What do I say to Ivan?’

Bauer regarded him with distaste. ‘Don’t say anything. I will be in touch.’

‘I need a doctor.’

‘The girls will take you,’ Bauer said.

He left the bedroom, closing the door and telling Sala to stay there. In the kitchen he found a wall-mounted telephone. He dialled a Sydney number. When he spoke it was to give a report and a recommendation. He spoke clearly and concisely for two minutes without repeating himself. The reply was what he expected it to be. He broke the connection again, pocketed the.22 and left the house.