As soon as his mother’s car pulled out of his drive, Baxter walked inside and put in a call to Ian Latham: ‘Southern delivery for L.’
A few minutes later, Latham rang back.
‘What’s the problem, Greg?’ the detective asked.
‘Chief’s behaving very strangely about my boat. He’s staring at her and growling, and he loves that boat. We go out on her all the time.’
‘He’s a terrific dog, champ, but maybe you’re taking him too seriously?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Chief has always been reliable—he definitely knows something’s not right. I think you ought to take a look.’
‘All right, I’ll have someone there inside the hour. And I probably don’t need to tell you this, but just in case—don’t go near your boat.’
‘No worries. I haven’t even gone up the jetty, in case of footprints.’
‘Good to hear. While I’ve got you on the line—I spoke to Dr Rankin, but it’s good to hear things from the horse’s mouth—how did your grilling go at the station?’
‘Tough for a while.’ Baxter gave Latham a brief rundown.
‘Don’t worry, Greg,’ the detective said, ‘it was a put-up job. The Sydney detectives didn’t suspect you for a single moment. We just have to be very careful because of you-know-who at the station. We’ve got one of our own in on the Drew case. We reckon that Campanelli or one of his men killed Drew, but if we arrest the kingpin for that we’ll blow the whole drug operation.’ He added, ‘I didn’t tell you that, so keep it to yourself.’
‘I’d like a few minutes alone with Campanelli,’ Baxter said fiercely.
‘We want him alive, not dead!’
‘What about half and half?’
‘Nix to that, champ,’ Latham said tightly. ‘Stay right away from Campanelli, or you might end up the next one sleeping with the fishes. We’ll nail him soon enough.’
‘You hope. What about Liz Drew? Julie says she’s terrified.’
‘I can understand how you feel. Just hang fire for a little while and we should be able to put Campanelli out of circulation for quite a few years.’
‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Baxter said, a chill in his voice. ‘People like him always appear to have an escape alley.’
•
Baxter didn’t have long to wait. A cream-coloured, half-cabin launch drifted in and tied up about fifty metres on the upriver side of Baxter’s jetty, and not long after its arrival Latham’s disreputable panel van pulled up beside the house.
The detective walked down to wait with Baxter and Chief beside the jetty, while his colleague—a sharp-eyed, grizzled man named Mal, whom Latham described as a forensics expert—inspected first the jetty (‘No footprints!’) and then the Flora Jane.
After only a few seconds, Mal climbed out and up onto the jetty. The grim smile on his face told Baxter that he’d been right to call Latham.
‘You should give your dog a feed of steak tonight,’ Mal said. ‘There’s a bomb inside the engine cover.’
Shocked, Baxter shot Latham a look, and saw that the detective didn’t seem to share his surprise.
Mal continued, ‘It’s wired up to explode when the ignition is turned on, and there’s enough explosive there to blow your boat to Kingdom Come. More than enough.’
‘Can you defuse it?’ Latham asked.
‘Of course,’ Mal said, looking offended. ‘And do you want to try for prints, Ian?’
‘I certainly do. We can’t pass up the chance to nail the bugger.’
Mal nodded and headed to his launch, returning with a small case of tools. He called out to Latham, ‘You’ve been undercover too long, mate. Get that civvie and his pup out of here!’
Latham and Baxter grinned at each other, then headed back to the house with Chief. They sat on the verandah, drinking coffee and watching Mal at work.
Baxter spoke about his suspicions. ‘I reckon they wired my boat after they were told the police were letting me go. Sounds like inside information to me.’
‘Yep, sounds that way. They tried to make you the number one suspect, and when that failed, they opted for the bomb. They want access to this property and they know you’re out to make things as difficult for them as possible.’
Baxter’s hands clenched, his knuckles white. ‘I can face anyone head-on, but this underworld stuff is tough. These fellows have no ethics—they’re just grubs.’
Latham nodded grimly and sipped his coffee. ‘Tell me about it.’
Emerging from the boat, Mal put his fists in the air and called out, ‘Victory!’
‘Glad you’re still in one piece,’ Latham called back. He and Baxter had a chuckle and the mood lightened a little. They went down to the jetty and stood yarning while Mal attached a towrope to Flora.
‘Until you blokes have sorted all of this out,’ Baxter said, ‘it looks like I’ll have to stay put here with Chief. They could plant a bomb in my car next.’
‘That might be the safest course for the time being,’ Latham agreed. ‘You and Chief ought to be able to handle anything here. Keep that old shotgun handy and your eyes skinned. And maybe you could arrange for someone to bring out your tucker.’
‘I’ll talk to Julie,’ Baxter said. ‘Assuming it’s all right for her to know the story?’
‘That’s fine—but she’s as far as it goes, all right?’
Mal gave the signal that he was ready to head off, and they called out thanks before he zoomed upriver, Flora swinging back and forth a little in his wake.
‘We’ve got a shed in town,’ said Latham. ‘We’ll go over your boat there.’
‘For as long as it takes, Ian. And thanks.’
‘Be seeing you, champ. You did the right thing calling me.’
When Latham had left, Baxter phoned Julie Rankin, who was quite agreeable to bringing out his meat and groceries when he told her about the bomb. In fact, she was uptight about it. He could hear she was genuinely concerned for his safety—and despite the real danger, it gave him a nice feeling to know that she was worried about him.