John blocked out the rest of the gym and focussed on the heavy bag. Sweat shone on his face and chest, and his lips moved, grunts escaping with each impact.
Morris. Jab. You prick. Jab, jab.
Out. Back in, jabbing. Smartarse cops.
Pivot, more jabs. Fast combo.
The bag shuddered under a flurry of punches. John bounced back, gloves up.
Duck. Weave. Jab. Fucking. Rae. Holland.
Jab jab jab. Morris. You prick.
Right and left. Again.
From the knees. Fast crosses, hips and shoulders.
He bounced back, moving around the bag, sweat stinging his eyes. In again, hard and fast. Left and right.
Back, out of reach. Fuck. Them. All.
In close. Power shots, ripping at the black vinyl.
Head moving, hands up. Look for an opening.
Find Morris. Jab, jab.
Before he finds you.
Broadway was full of glaring lights and hurrying students when he came down the stairs from the gym. The evening peak, a wall of buses lining the kerb, their sides advertising shampoo and computer games. Their exhausts belching and grunting at the sky as everyone tried to get home.
He waited in the doorway, checking the street, waiting to see if anything stimulated the part of his brain that identified threats. Nothing did, so he had another look.
The heavy traffic would make it hard to mount anything vehicle based, like a snatch operation, but a quiet killing on the footpath, something up close and personal, that was very do-able. He sighed and stepped out onto the pavement, turning right towards the city.
The police had let him go in the middle of the afternoon, and Lesley had told him not to speak to them again. Not without her, not if he wanted her to keep being his lawyer.
“Why do you need a lawyer anyway?” one of the Feds had asked, while they waited for Lesley to arrive. “If you’ve done nothing?”
“Because I’ve done nothing.”
When she arrived, e-cigarette in one hand and phone in the other, she told him not to answer any questions unless she gave the nod. He had tried to keep it in mind.
There were four of them in the room. Him and Lesley facing a local detective and a Fed across the table. First they wanted to know why he went to the warehouse.
“I wanted to check if Smokey’s will was there.”
“His will?” the Fed said.
John told them about Alison and the missing will.
“Was it?”
“Not that I saw. Could have been in the safe.”
Then they asked about Morris. John told them about the house in Randwick, but not about Jackson and the Africans. The house was empty by the time the cops got there.
Next they asked about the dead Lebanese guys. John said he didn’t know them, but he presumed they were something to do with Smokey.
“Rae Holland said you knew them.”
Lesley told him not to answer that.
John nodded. “She misunderstood… They were pointing guns at her.”
“Why did Morris shoot them?” the NSW cop asked.
“How is my client supposed to know?”
“We’re interested in his opinion.”
“Morris was outnumbered and out gunned. The only tactical advantage he had was surprise… I might have done the same.” He was aware of Lesley shaking her head beside him as he said it.
“You would have killed them?” the local cop said.
“I didn’t get the opportunity.”
“Are you sure they were dead?”
“Oh yeah. Sam didn’t miss. It was textbook.”
The cops looked at each other, and Lesley shifted in her seat.
“Why take the bodies?” This from the Fed.
“My client—”
“Speculating?” John said. “From his point of view it would be safer. Plus he’s always been a neat freak.”
The Fed looked like he wanted to comment but the NSW cop got in first. “Then why let you and Ms Holland go?”
John shrugged. “Old times’ sake?”
“Makes us wonder if you’re working with him.”
“Sam and me were never friends. We worked together a while ago. That’s all. I have no idea what he’s up to these days.”
Lesley put her hand on his arm.
“But you know where he lives?”
“I only found out after Smokey got killed, to tell him about the funeral. I contacted a lot of people from the regiment. Before that, I hadn’t seen Sam for nearly four years. Not since my mother’s funeral.”
“Seems like a lot of funerals lately,” the Fed said.
“I’m sorry? Is that a question?” Lesley said.
“But you were close?” the local cop said.
“Must have been,” the Fed added. “Only a close friend would come to your mother’s funeral.”
John shrugged and glanced at Lesley. “He happened to be in town… We aren’t close.”
“And he wasn’t at Joe Whitmore’s funeral.”
“He couldn’t make it. Said he would be out of the country.”
“He said? You don’t believe him?”
John shrugged. “Seems like it was a short trip.”
“What was the nature of their relationship, Morris and Joe Whitmore?”
“They knew each other from the Army. And I think they did some business together. I never knew any details.”
“And what about Luke Trang?”
“What about him? He worked for Smokey.”
“Where is he?”
“No idea.” Which was true.
After the cops had run out of questions, John went home, intending to change and go straight to the gym. He had an urgent need to hit something.
It was only when his key was in the front door that he remembered Billy’s first exam had been that morning. And John hadn’t been there to wish him luck.
He found Billy in his room, sitting at his desk, his head nodding back and forth in time to the beat of something coming through an enormous pair of black headphones. He jumped when John tapped him on the shoulder.
“Shit. You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
“You didn’t leave me any choice. How’d you go this morning? It was English, right?”
Billy shrugged. “Yeah, all right. Where have you been? Shaz said something about the cops. What’s going on?”
“Yeah… It’s a bit complicated, to do with Smokey.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Well I didn’t kill anyone this time, so I think it’ll be okay. Anyway, it’s nothing you need to worry about. You concentrate on these exams. What’s up next?”
“Maths.”
John nodded. “Right, okay… But you’ve got it covered, hey? You’re pretty good at maths.”
“Yeah, I think it’ll be right. Tony’s been helping me. But what about you and the cops? Did you talk to Lesley?”
“Yeah. She’s charging me a lot of money and telling me not to worry. So I’m not going to, and you shouldn’t either. Right?”
“If you say so.”
The last thing John did before leaving for the gym was send a message to Trang.
~we need to talk
They met at a bar. A hole in the wall off one of the underground walkways that fed into Wynyard Station. Dim lights, darkly stained carpet and the smell of last week’s beer. It was early evening but felt like midnight.
The other drinkers were mainly suits, and mainly young. Hair gel and pointy shoes, not earning enough yet to drink anywhere better. Either that or they didn’t want to be seen drinking on a Monday night. Same as John.
He arrived early, ordered a beer and waited at a table out of range of the grubby-looking security cameras. He’d walked from the gym to Central, where he got lost in the peak-hour crowds, before catching a train to Wynyard.
Trang was on time, nodding to John and heading to the bar. He looked smart, wearing a thigh-length designer coat over a white business shirt. No tie, but he looked like he belonged. John was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and felt like he didn’t.
Trang brought a beer for John, and a soda water with a wedge of lime for himself. They sat side by side, watching the room with their backs to the wall.
“Thanks,” John said, taking the new beer. “And thanks for the heads up on Morris.”
“What?”
“He’s back.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Would have been nice if I’d known. Before he was pointing a weapon at me.”
“When was this?”
“Yesterday. At Smokey’s warehouse in St Peters.”
“What the fuck were you doing there?”
“Trying to find out what’s going on. Your Lebanese mates must have followed me.”
Trang put his glass down on a coaster. “Ayoub? What are you talking about? He’s not my mate.”
John shook his head. “Nizar, and another bloke. One of the guards from the house on the river. Not friendly. And then Morris killed them.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
John finished his first beer and took a sip of his second. He told Trang about Rae and the warehouse, about Ayoub’s men, and about Morris. “Those empty crates, the Carl Gustavs? And the safe? You know anything about them?”
“Morris took the safe?”
“Cut it out of the floor.”
“Shit.”
Obviously Trang knew all about the St Peters setup. “What was there?”
“Smokey’s stock.”
“Weapons?”
“And other kit. Don’t worry, it’s all secure.”
John laughed. “Sure. Everything’s fine and dandy. I’ve just spent a day being questioned by the Feds.”
“How’d they find out?”
“Rae Holland.”
“Shit.” Trang shook his head.
“Shit? That’s all you’ve got?”
“What do you want, John?”
“How about the truth for a change?”
Trang sipped his water and looked across at John. “You really want to know everything, John? All the details?”
John looked down at his hands, pushed them hard onto the table top. He breathed. “I want whoever killed Smoke.”
“That’s our common ground, so let’s stick to it. You let me worry about the rest. Keep the cops out.”
John tried to calm himself. “That was Rae, not me.”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? Morris won’t be happy.”
“Fuck Morris.” John drank his beer. “He’ll be thinking he shouldn’t have left any loose ends. And he still wants those Carl Gustavs.”
“They’re safe. All of it is. Morris hasn’t got any of it.”
“He’s got that Hi-Power you gave me.”
“Shit, John.” Trang shook his head.
John finished his beer. “The Feds and the Homicide boys think you killed Smokey.”
“I know.”
John rubbed his temples. Maybe he should just walk away. Let this bastard drown in his own mess.
“I didn’t do it. The other stuff, the weapons, I’ll wear that if they catch me. But not Smokey.”
“You talk like you’ll have a choice.”
“That’s why we have to get hold of Morris.”
“We?” Trang was still talking as if they were some kind of team. “How do you reckon on finding him? The cops didn’t find anything at Randwick.”
“He’s got to have had help. He didn’t move that safe on his own.”
“Jackson.”
“And maybe others.”
John nodded. “They’d have to take it somewhere secure to work on it.”
“You said they cut it out of the concrete?”
“The cops said they used a saw. They’d have to hire something like that.”
“I can check. Transport too.”
John shook his head. “It wasn’t a big safe. A two-tonner would do. Probably a van or a pantec. They had to shift the bodies as well.”
“Those two are in the water by now. Out off the continental shelf somewhere.”
John nodded. “Chained to an empty safe.”
“Boats might give us a lead.”
John stood up. “You’ll be busy with all that. I’ll see if anyone from the regiment knows anything useful about Morris or Jackson.”
Trang shook his heads. “The Feds will do that.”
“Yeah, but I might get some answers.”