Two-Way Cut

chapter 16

In the long days and hours of his ride through the endless wheatbelt country, van Wyk had come to realise how ill-equipped he was for this assignment. He was used to city streets, alleys, corridors, shadows. He was used to working close, in and out, no fuss, no trace. Out here, he felt exposed. Hours might, go by and he’d not see another human being, much less signs of habitation. There were no shadows out here, nowhere to hide in waiting.

Hed felt better when he finally spotted the blue Magna driven by the private detective. Yesterday, in Prospect. His skin had tingled then. The hunt was on. Now all he had to do was follow the Magna until it led him to the target.

In the past, he’d always worked from a profile of the target: photographs, home and work details, routine movements, the names and addresses of friends and acquaintances. This time all he had were photos. How do you anticipate the movements of a kid who’s done a runner?

So thank God for the unwitting private eye, who had all the know-how, gadgetry and technical back-up to tap phone calls and follow the kid.

The whole thing had almost come unstuck after the debacle in Leighton Wells yesterday. The detective guy had thought he’d lost the target, according to his logbook, but the silly bitch had later used her mobile phone, and that had led the Magnaand van Wyk on the Yamahato a bed-and-breakfast place in the foothills.

Van Wyk had thought he’d have his chance then God, had it only been a few hours ago? Amazing how time flew when you were having fun. Hed dismounted from the Yamaha and wheeled it off the farmhouse track, into the shelter of some tree on the lawn, scouted around until he knew the layout of the place, saw the farmer leave with his wife, and ascertained where the target was.

And there was the second woman. Oh well, two for the price of one. He watched and listened for a while, using night-vision binoculars. Saw them getting undressed for bed and an old hunger had stirred in him for a moment. You’re a professional, he’d chided himself.

Then he spotted the private eye. Hed already located the Magna, parked down by the road gate. Theo Reed was watching the cottage from a nearby clump of bamboo. Van Wyk saw him glance at his watch as if deciding whether to announce himself to the women there and then, or wait until morning.

Then the farmer and his wife returned, and that seemed to settle the matter for the detective. Van Wyk saw Reed duck away from the sweep of headlights and begin to retreat down the slope of lawn, shrubs and trees.

Right to van Wyks position. Van Wyk shot him in the head with the silenced .22.

Working quickly then, he’d hunted in the mans pockets for keys and wallet, and run back to the Magna. A quick search revealed paperwork that detailed the case and the guys name: Theo Reed.

What to do? There was an extra element of risk in entering a darkened building and shooting not one but two people. And what if a noisy disturbance resulted, shouts, screams, glass breaking, lights coming on?

Best to wait until 4 a.m., when they would both be sound asleep.

Except he’d tripped over a concealed sprinkler in the lawn and the bitch who was travelling with the target had blundered in. He hadn’t wanted to risk another shot, so on the spur of the moment had decided to pose as Theo Reed.

But the woman ran.

Leah, he knew her as now.

She was the one to watch. Shed evaded him in the darkness and got the target out of there before he could get close enough to kill them.

And so van Wyk had pushed the Yamaha into a dam and shoved the body of the private eye into the boot of the Magna. No sense in the farmer reporting a crime before van Wyk had finished doing what he’d been hired to do. Then he’d set out after the women, pushing the Magna hard, coming upon the crash scene and the Range Rover hoons again. Who were those guys? Then, still posing as Theo Reed, he’d saved Leah and the target.

Good. It would be a close shooting after all, now that he’d got the targetboth targetsonto this lonely back road.

Two quick shots, up close, then vanish.

But first, fake a puncture.