MICHAEL lounged at ease in the stretch limousine, smiling as he imagined the scene being played out in Wayne Boyer’s office. Lauren had a great family. All they had needed was a bit of direction, a bit of organisation, and the heart was certainly there to see her freed from being emotionally and physically victimised by a man who deserved no place in her life.
He almost wished he smoked. A cigar would have added an extra little punch to the image he wanted to imprint on Wayne Boyer’s brain. But enough was enough. He’d bought a pinstripe suit he didn’t need and other bits and pieces of flashy apparel he’d never wear again. The opal and gold cufflinks were a particularly nice touch. There had been a big spread in last Sunday’s newspapers about a lawless gang of ratters raiding the opal fields in Lightning Ridge.
Wayne Boyer was a rat of the worst kind, spreading the disease of fear with his nasty marauding attacks on Lauren. Michael was only too aware of how debilitating fear was. His brother, Peter, had never really recovered from the sadistic practices of their grandmother. That Lauren had managed to keep such a strong sense of self in spite of her ex-husband’s abusive tactics was a marvel to Michael.
It was going to give him a lot of satisfaction to give Wayne Boyer a lesson in fear today. Michael could say one thing about his grandmother. She’d left him with some fine examples of how to get a point across with optimum effect. He hoped Wayne would appreciate the thoroughness with which a plan could be carried through.
The door to the dry-cleaning factory opened and out they came, Wayne Boyer accompanied by two burly policemen-or at least what one could call splendid facsimiles of burly policemen. They were, in fact, two well-built amateur actors who had adopted their character roles with relish and wore their costumes particularly well.
Wayne was expostulating vigorously, but his words had no visible effect on Lauren’s cousin, Joe Hamish, and his mate, Terry Johnson. They flanked Wayne as they crossed the sidewalk, hedging him in so when Joe opened the back door of the limousine, Wayne really had nowhere to go but into the car.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded. Clearly it was not a police vehicle.
“Get in, Mr. Boyer,” Joe said phlegmatically. “We’re taking you for a little ride, courtesy of the boss here.”
“Who?” He ducked his head to see. “You!”
It was clearly a mind-stunning moment for Wayne-the recognition of the face of his assailant, unexpectedly transposed to a vastly different appearance and coming with the accoutrements of a posh limousine and the evocative title of “the boss.”
Seizing the advantage of the element of surprise, Terry wasted no time in bundling the shell-shocked Wayne into the double-seated rear compartment of the limousine. He and Joe climbed in after him, shoving their guest to the end of the seat directly facing Michael. Everyone ignored his cursing and yelling. The back door was closed. Terry tapped the glass partition between them and the chauffeur. The limousine purred off down the road.
“Might as well calm down and behave, Mr. Boyer,” Joe advised. “No-one can see in. The windows are tinted.”
“This is an abduction,” Wayne fiercely accused. “You said I was wanted down at the police station because my ex-wife had signed an official complaint against me.”
“He lied,” Michael drawled, “just as you lied about Lauren the other day, Wayne.”
The black ferocity of Wayne’s eyes reminded Michael of a wild animal that had been cornered but not cowed. “My secretary can identify these two cops. Don’t think you can get away with any further assault on me.”
“I have no intention of harming a hair on your head. Provided I get your cooperation.”
“What do you want?” he growled.
“Oh, I thought we’d just talk for a while.”
“Who are you, anyway?”
“Many people think of me as a friend, Wayne. One could say I have the reputation of being a friend to quite a lot of powerful people.” Michael paused to let that thought linger. “I’m also a friend of the Magee family. And I’m very particularly a friend of your ex-wife.”
Wayne snorted derisively. “You can’t intimidate me.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of exterminating you, Wayne.”
That got through his belligerent guard. He swallowed convulsively and tried to hide the flicker of fear in his eyes. His gaze dropped to Michael’s flamboyant tie, wandered to the silk handkerchief featured in the top coat pocket of the pinstripe suit and shot across to the door, where Michael’s arm occupied the armrest. The opal cufflink earned some sobering study. Michael casually crossed his legs, dangling one obviously Italian shoe for perusal.
“Unfortunately, Lauren said not to hurt you,” he went on in a tone of mournful indulgence. “A pity, really. Extermination is such a neatly final solution.”
“To what?” Wayne demanded harshly.
“To you bothering her and her family. It has to stop, Wayne. I really won’t tolerate any more of it. You upset everyone the other day.”
“Tough!” he muttered scornfully.
“Well, I knew words wouldn’t be enough to convince you, Wayne, so I thought I’d arrange a little demonstration. That’s quite a nice sports car you drive. A Ford Probe, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Wary suspicion.
“Cost about fifty thousand?”
“About that.”
“Fully insured?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. I like to deal with a careful man.”
The wind was definitely up Wayne’s sails. He looked deeply worried, though true to his bullying form, he continued to bluster. “If you’ve damaged my car—”
“Now that’s what I want to get across to you, Wayne. Damage control. What we need to work out is what price you put on things. Like doing a valuation on your life. You do value your life, don’t you, Wayne?”
He looked confused.
“Then there’s quality of life. You wouldn’t want that messed up with busted kneecaps or other little unfortunate accidents.”
“What the hell are you getting at?” Wayne burst out, no longer sure of anything.
“Ah, here we are.”
The limousine pulled to a halt alongside a row of vehicles in the car park Wayne habitually used. An electric blue Ford Probe occupied a bay in the row to their right. Wayne had a good view of it.
“As I mentioned, Wayne, a demonstration tends to fix things in a person’s mind,” Michael said affably. “I might add there is nothing you can do but sit and watch. These doors and windows are powerlocked.”
Even as he spoke, a huge caterpillar tractor came trundling into the car park. The Magees had contacts in the earth-moving business. The big cat lined up behind the Probe, lifted its massive front-end excavating bucket and crashed it down on the glistening blue bonnet. There was a squawk of anguish from Wayne. Michael and the two policemen watched impassively as the bucket lifted and descended again, mangling some more bodywork.
“For God’s sake! Stop it!” Wayne cried.
“I want you to stop bothering Lauren and her family,” Michael said in a tone of sweet reason.
Another thumping, metallic crunch.
“Are you mad?” Wayne shot at him, visibly cracking up with the destruction of the car.
“The car is only a start, Wayne. I can think of lots of other things to damage,” Michael said carelessly.
“You guys are cops!” Wayne yelled at Terry and Joe. “Are you going to let him get away with this?”
“We’re not cops,” Joe said with a shrug.
“I didn’t want the boys coming the heavy with you, Wayne. It was a smoother operation to have your cooperation in leaving your office,” Michael explained.
Wayne muttered a few expletives under his breath as he jerked his gaze to the electric blue wreck. “My car—” He choked.
“I feel the same way about Lauren,” Michael said earnestly. “When you hurt her the other day and said such nasty things about her.” He shook his head. “I would like to come to some agreement with you, Wayne. It’s a matter of damage control, you see. I can do this to your car, trash your apartment, set fire to your laundrettes, make your life generally unpleasant.”
Wayne stared at him in horror.
“But if you stay right away from Lauren and her family and swear never to come near them again—”
“I swear. I swear,” he repeated hoarsely.
“But have you really got the message, Wayne? I need conviction here.” Michael glanced out the window. “Ah, the clean-up crew. I have a very tidy mind, Wayne. I like to get everything cleaned up to my satisfaction.”
The big machinery moved out and a tow truck moved in, courtesy of one of Lauren’s uncles. Wayne’s olive skin had turned sallow. He watched the wrecked Probe being towed away with glazed eyes. A pickup truck arrived. Men in overalls alighted and swept up the broken glass and bits of metal with big industrial brooms. Lauren’s brothers were very thorough.
“Well, there goes the evidence,” Michael said cheerfully. “What do you say, Wayne? Are you convinced it’s a good idea to leave Lauren and her family alone?”
“Yes. She’s not worth it,” he said dully.
“I’m relieved to hear you think that, Wayne. On the other hand, Lauren and her well-being and happiness are worth a lot to me. Matter of fact, I paid fifty thousand dollars for the car you’ve just seen destroyed.”
“You? But…but it was my car!” Wayne croaked, his eyes almost rolling in helpless shock and distress.
“No. Your car is being driven back into place right now.”
Wayne stared disbelievingly as another electric blue Probe was parked in the cleanly swept bay. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled.
“It was a demonstration, Wayne. Lauren said I wasn’t to hurt you, but I’ve always been an action man. It’s my nature, taking action. Lauren tied my hands this time, but I did want you to see what I can do. Anytime I like.”
“You spent fifty thousand—” He looked at Michael with the full realisation he was face to face with a ruthless fanatic. It scared him witless.
“Let’s call it an initial outlay. If there’s a next time I won’t feel so generous.” Michael looked inquiringly at Terry and Joe. “What’s the going rate for a good hit man, boys?”
“Eight thousand is the word,” Joe answered.
“Yeah, eight’s the top,” Terry agreed.
“Could have hired six hit men for fifty grand,” Michael mused. He wagged a finger at Wayne. “You’re a lucky guy. If Lauren didn’t have such a soft heart.”
“Look!” Wayne leaned forward, hands outstretched in desperate appeal. “I swear she’s as free as a bird, as far as I’m concerned. I’m out of her life for good. Okay? Please?”
“Well, we’ll just drive around while I think about that. Would you tap the chauffeur, please, Terry?”
Michael lolled back in his seat, watching Wayne through meanly narrowed eyes as the limousine rolled towards the exit of the car park. Beads of perspiration broke out on Wayne’s skin. He looked every bit as sick as Lauren had in the restaurant kitchen. Michael was satisfied that at least some justice had been done.
“You think he means it, boys?” he asked Joe and Terry.
“He’d be a damned fool if he doesn’t,” Terry grunted.
“I wouldn’t waste another car on him,” Joe said contemptuously.
“Oh, I don’t intend to, Joe. I never give repeat lessons,” Michael stated decisively. “If someone’s too dumb to learn-”
“I swear I’ve got the message,” Wayne cried, unable to bear the tension of not knowing his fate.
“I guess I’m going to have to take his word for it. Lauren doesn’t want me to hurt him. Tap the chauffeur to stop, Terry.”
The limousine drew to a halt.
“Well, Wayne, this is goodbye.” Michael opened the door on his side. “I’d go while the going’s good, if I were you.”
He scuttled out and ran.
Michael closed the door and grinned at his companions. “Thanks a lot, guys. I reckon we did it.”
They broke into wild, rollicking laughter.
Michael leaned over and slid open the glass partition. “To the airport,” he instructed. “I’ve got a very important date with the lady of my life.”