~27~

THE CITY HUMMED ACROSS THE WATER like a giant oil rig, coloured lights winking over the harbour. Pascal walked Jack a short distance down Vaucluse Road to the Fiori for his bag, and then walked him back to the Mercedes parked out in front of de Groot’s house. Walter was sitting behind the wheel, staring out of the side window at the view. Viktor Kablunak was in the front seat beside him, eyes closed and head back on the leather upholstery, like a weary passenger on a long-haul flight. Above them, there were lights left on inside the de Groot residence. Jack was having trouble shaking Richard de Groot’s bathrobed body from his mind, on the floor of the study like that, head hanging in the empty safe, bloodied and dead. He was glad a couple of the lights had been left burning with their hot, halogen brightness. He was not a religious man, but around death there was always that inclination. Jack remembered Aunt Eva talking about how she had sat with her husband all through the night when he passed away. So that his earthly body was safe while the ghost road was taken. Even though she could not stand him, regularly, in life. Jack found himself grateful for the light up in those windows.

Pascal reached across him and opened the rear door of the Merc.

‘You guys do this often?’ asked Jack.

‘What’s that?’

‘Leave bodies behind to fend for themselves?’

‘You want to go up and pour him a glass of water?’

‘What about calling the cops?’

‘That’s up to Mr Kablunak.’

‘It’s on your hands, too.’

‘Yeah?’ Pascal scoffed. ‘It won’t be the hardest stain I got to wash off. What about you?’ He pushed Jack into the back seat and slammed the door on him.

Walter started the car, looked over at his boss. ‘Where to?’

‘De Groot Galleries,’ said Kablunak, eyes still closed.

Walter swung the Mercedes around and headed back towards the city. Jack looked out of the window, tired and resigned. All he knew was that he would not be climbing into bed with Kim again any time soon. And there was a dead man’s ten grand in his pocket.

‘Could we drive by my place?’ he said. ‘I need to feed my cat.’

Eyes still closed, Kablunak said: ‘Sixty-eight percent of domestic animals die from obesity-related disease, Mr Susko.’

‘Is that a no?’

They wound through Rose Bay, Double Bay, then turned up Ocean Street in Edgecliff. Kablunak had Relaxin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet, 1956, on the stereo. Jack had to admit the man had taste. The sky was uneven in its darkness: the last remnants of night were choked with clouds, beginning to move and churn, black folding into edges of grey and steely shadows curling and twisting like plumes of smoke. It really was going to bucket down, any moment. Jack checked the thought: it was going to come down all right, and it was going to be all over his head.

Something thudded, as though the rear wheels of the Merc had hit a pothole. Jack noticed Walter glance into the rear-view mirror.

‘Was that him?’ said Fat Boy.

‘Yeah,’ said Pascal. ‘Should we give him a drink or something?’

‘He’s been in there for a while.’

Kablunak tapped his leg, following the music.

‘Who?’ asked Jack, slightly concerned.

‘It’ll be pretty hot in there by now, too,’ said Walter.

A couple more dull thuds came from the boot. Jack could feel the vibrations through the seat, right in his kidneys. ‘Who have you got in the back? Shane?’ he asked, voice a touch strained. The idea made him feel a little queasy. Jesus.

‘It’s not fucking Shane,’ said Pascal.

‘Do not be so concerned, Mr Susko.’ Kablunak sounded bored. ‘I let Mr Ferguson go …’ He paused. ‘Days ago.’

‘What, from a moving car?’

The Russian smiled. ‘I am not the KGB, Mr Susko. We dropped him off at the Royal Prince Alfred, as a matter of fact. Emergency ward. Unfortunately, there was a very full waiting room and the blood was coming.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But, you know, only a broken nose.’ Kablunak reached down and massaged his leg, just above the knee. ‘I asked him to keep out of my way for a while. Maybe he moved to Melbourne?’

Jack shifted in his seat, the leather creaking expensively.

‘So who’s looking after your spare wheel?’

‘Your cousin, Mr Susko. Who else?’

Jack let the news sink in. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Of course.’ A couple of pellets of rain hit the windscreen, but that was it. ‘You know him, too, then?’

‘Not at all, Mr Susko. He opened the door at Mr Ferguson’s house when we knocked.’ The Russian looked out into the street. ‘And now he knows me. And that is far more important.’

‘You went around to Shane’s house?’ Jack was thinking about Kim. ‘What for?’

‘We were looking for you, Mr Susko. Walter here recognised the girl at your shop earlier. Shane’s flatmate, no? It was an interesting coincidence.’ The Russian adjusted something on the air-conditioning. ‘I am always wary of interesting coincidences.’

‘You didn’t do anything to her?’

‘Of course not, Mr Susko. We are not the barbarian hordes. The young lady was asleep. And your cousin, as you can no doubt imagine, was quite willing to talk to us. It was unnecessary to wake her.’

Jack felt a moment of relief. ‘What are you going to do with Carl?’

‘Oh, just keep him handy for a moment. I worry that too many people already know about my Bible, Mr Susko.’ He gave Walter a look: it was firmly in the territory of unpleasant. ‘And maybe I will convince your cousin to forget about it? That a life of crime is not a worthwhile career pursuit. Especially if you stumble onto the path of my career.’

‘That’s very kind of you. I think he might be getting the idea right about now.’

‘Yes. I believe you are correct.’

Walter turned the Mercedes into Queen Street, Woollahra.

‘Ah. Here we are,’ said Viktor Kablunak. ‘Let us go and visit Lewis. See if we cannot help Mr Susko out of his predicament.’