10

The heating was up high and cosy. Astrid smiled. ‘Evening, Jack.’

He nodded, slammed the door and strapped himself into the seat. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

‘I know.’ She gunned the motor down the narrow street. ‘Hungry? I’m starving. What do you feel like?’

‘Scotch.’

‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘I think sushi and a hot miso.’

Astrid was wearing dark-grey lycra, a white long-sleeved T-shirt and a puffy red vest with the collar up. Her feet danced over the clutch and accelerator in blue-and-white Pumas. Hair in a gym-tousled ponytail. In the tight sports interior of the Porsche, she smelt good. Jack managed to get his eyes off her.

‘So what happened exactly?’ she said.

‘A bad idea that proved to be so.’

She glanced at him. ‘You’re all wet.’

‘Yep.’

‘No other injuries?’

‘Emotional. None you can see.’

‘Tell me about it.’

Her voice was warm, folded through with concern. Designed to thaw, but Jack was not in the mood. ‘You first. How come you’re here?’

She shifted down, third, then second, snapped a hard left. ‘I heard about the assault charge. Thought you might be looking to discuss things with the other party.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Astrid waited for more. ‘Don’t feel like talking?’

‘What’s there to say? You know everything already.’

‘About the assault? An old partner keeps me in the loop.’

‘Lucky Ziggy.’

‘No, lucky you. You’ve got a meeting with his lawyer at nine-thirty on Thursday morning.’ She paused. ‘Nice welt on the cheek, by the way. Still hurt?’

‘I don’t need his lawyer.’

‘Oh yes you do. Beaumont was thorough. He’s got pictures of his face, a doctor’s report, some hotshot former QC … If you go in there alone, then —’

‘I’m out of this. I already left a message on Brandt’s phone.’

‘Don’t be silly. Ziggy might have brought you in but now it’s Beaumont who’s sealed the deal. And now you need help.’ She squeezed out a dimpled smile and checked the rear view. ‘Maybe if you hadn’t hit him …’

‘I know he works for ASIC. This whole fucking thing has got nothing to do with Claudia.’

‘Oh,’ said Astrid. ‘So while it did, you were happy to take up the offer?’

The Porsche cut its way through the tight streets of Balmain, jerking over potholes and fraying patches of repair-work. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Jack. ‘And I didn’t take anything up.’

She took a moment. ‘It’s okay.’

Her tone pissed him off. ‘Listen, like I said, babe, I’m out of this. You can pull over anywhere here.’

‘You know it isn’t that easy. So just calm down.’

Jack zipped up. Shit. He knew she was right and it was like a set of chain irons on his ankles. Try to run and he would fall down in a messy heap — then look up, see Ziggy standing there, smirk on his mug. Warden uniform and gun in hand.

‘How do you know Beaumont works for ASIC?’ she said.

‘Claudia told me.’ He remembered her in Beaumont’s kitchen, their lovers’ embrace. ‘Is that what this is about? Ziggy thinks Beaumont’s investigating him?’

Astrid shrugged. ‘He’s not sure.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Maybe. But either way, he wants him out.’

‘Why doesn’t he just buy him off like he does everybody else?’

‘Apparently the guy’s clean, no chance. And anyway, Claudia said she’d never speak to him again if he tried it.’

Jack was thinking about the box of westerns back at Susko Books now. Saw everything playing like out like a weathered old Dell paperback. Deputy Marshal Beaumont, the handsome hero with principles. Rides in with his badge to take down the bad guys. Falls in love with the daughter of the biggest baddie of all and faces a moment of uncertainty: what comes first, the law or love? But it’s the law that makes him who he is, so there’s nothing to think about. And that’s the man she loves, she tells him. She gives up her old man for him, even if it means the noose. So Ziggy’s got to bring in his Comanchero, his rough rider. Jack Susko. But look, there he is, bleeding on the cover: sombrero and an empty Colt and a bullet in the arm. Middle of the goddamn desert with no horse to ride home.

Jack mulled over it all as Astrid drove, trying to put it together. He remembered something else: what the hell was Allan Kippax doing at Beaumont’s house?

They turned onto Darling Street, the wipers swooping intermittently over the windscreen. Jack wished he could clear his mind as easily — but decided to keep Kippax to himself.

‘When you called, I was going to tell you,’ said Astrid, soft, sympathetic. ‘But you hung up on me.’

‘Tell me what?’

‘She lives with him.’

Jack touched the back of his hand to the window, felt the outside cold. ‘Yeah, well, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I got a good look at that.’