~31~

JACK HAD ALWAYS SUSPECTED that giving up smoking was going to be the death of him: but had he known it was actually going to be at the hands of a mad, gun-wielding, middle-aged South African gallery owner, he would never have quit.

Rhonda de Groot stood perfectly still, smooth blue smoke drifting around her, eyes locked on Larissa, the gun ready to speak again but holding its tongue for the moment.

The storm outside emptied over the city. Soon enough, everything would be washed and clean and sparkling anew beneath the soft sunrise, and the gentle morning would herald a forgiven day. Everywhere, except maybe at De Groot Galleries, Queen Street, Woollahra.

Jack glanced at the door without moving his head, wondered how Max was getting on in the kitchen. No sounds that he could hear — but then the rain was hitting everything hard and his ears were still ringing from the gun blasts. What the hell was Kablunak doing?

‘Champagne, Rhonda?’ said Larissa. Somehow, she managed to sound smug, as though she was holding the gun and not the other way around. She turned to the desk and picked up the bottle there, shaking it a little to see if there was anything left. ‘Might take the edge off, huh?’

‘You made him do it, didn’t you?’

‘Would that make you feel better, Rhonda?’

‘I know you did.’

‘He was a grown man.’

‘You made him do it.’

Larissa held the glass of champagne she had poured for Rhonda de Groot up and then placed it on the desk. ‘The problem with you, Rhonda, is that you think the world is how you’d like to see it. An affliction of the rich, I suspect. But reality just doesn’t work like that.’

‘Lewis was stupid and vulnerable. He hated Richard and you saw how you could use him. And now they’re both dead. Because of you.’

‘I think maybe that gun in your hand has got more to do with it, Rhonda.’

‘You slut. What did you promise him?’

Larissa poured herself some more champagne. She sipped. Then she looked up at Rhonda through her fringe of shiny brown hair. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed. ‘The opportunity to get the hell away from you. What else?’

Rhonda stretched her gun arm out a little further, shortened the distance between its barrel and Larissa’s body. Jack felt his heart pounding like an air compressor in his chest. He was close enough to tackle Rhonda, but the gun would go off before he could get hold of it.

‘Don’t look so shocked,’ said Larissa. ‘Why would he like you? What, just because you’re his sister?’

Jack looked at Rhonda de Groot in disbelief. ‘He’s your brother?’

‘That’s right,’ said Larissa. ‘Her own flesh and blood. I wonder what the Sergius would have to say about it? Straight down, bottom floor. The hot place.’

‘And you?’ snapped Rhonda, the gun trembling a little in her hand.

‘I’m in it for the money, sister. I haven’t killed anybody for it and neither the money nor the Sergius belongs to anybody either.’ Larissa looked at Jack. ‘I might have tried to lead the odd person astray, but nobody complained, far as I can tell.’

‘You started all this. You came into my family and drove the wedge between us.’

‘Yeah, Rhonda. Simple as that. I’ve been planning it for years.’

‘You convinced Richard to steal the Sergius from Viktor, didn’t you?’

Larissa sighed.

‘Answer me!’

‘I didn’t even know about the fucking Sergius,’ she said, voice rising in volume.

‘No. It was you. He’d stopped all that. He told me.’

‘Well, he told me that it was going to be the easiest three million he had ever made. Plus the bonus of annoying Viktor Kablunak.’

Rhonda was staring into space now, eyes vacant as her mind shuffled the cards, but obviously a few were falling out of the pack. Jack swallowed. Braced. Locked his eyes on the gun.

‘And for the record,’ said Larissa, coolly topping up her glass again. ‘I’ve never been attracted to short-arse men.’

The gun in Rhonda’s hand recoiled: the sound was like a thousand Rottweilers barking in the same split second. The champagne glass in Larissa’s hand hit the floor. Jack shuddered as the force of the bullet split the air in the gallery, and the blast reverberated and bounced off the walls. More bitter gun smoke drifted into his nostrils and burned his eyes, and the thought of Larissa taking the bullet sifted in slow motion through his mind. He turned to look and was relieved to see she was still standing.

Larissa had cupped a hand over her left ear. Blood seeped out between her fingers and down her long smooth neck. And there was a funny look on her face, as though she was trying to remember what she had just been talking about.

Jack said: ‘Jesus, are you all right?’

She looked at her hand, then gently patted around her ear. Her eyes widened. ‘You shot my ear lobe off,’ she said, as though in a dream; shock was obviously still holding back the pain information from her brain.

Rhonda de Groot adjusted the gun slightly, not quite believing that Larissa was still on her feet. ‘You lucky little bitch.’

All of Jack’s senses were brimming, and then he knew the gun was going to go off again. In the moment it fired, Jack lunged with his shoulder and knocked Rhonda de Groot sideways. She screamed and swung the gun around. As they fell, she landed it, hard and clean, right on the side of his head, just above the ear. He groaned and tried to reach for her wrist. Hot sparks flashed through his skull. Fuck. After the last time, he knew he should have worn a goddamn helmet.

Rhonda yelled and flayed with the gun. ‘Get off me!’ She pulled the trigger and shot off another round. Jack flinched but did not feel any bullets hit. As he wrestled Rhonda onto her back, Pascal burst through the door.

‘What the fuck?’

He took in the scene and then ran over and grabbed the gun out of Rhonda’s hand. He dragged her away by the arm, a metre or two across the carpet.

‘Let go of me you son of a bitch!’

Over by the desk, Larissa started to laugh. Blood had spread down one side of her head and neck and into the collar of her pinstriped suit jacket. She laughed and her body shook. After a few seconds, she calmed down a little. Then she reached into her handbag on the desk and pulled out a travel-pack of tissues.

For a moment, it was all held breaths in the gallery. Then one long exhale. And the rain beat down and soothed the world and slowly drained the room of its drama.