Saving Billie Page 14

‘Do you know a Sarah Marchant-Wallambi? Bloody silly name but there you are.’

  I didn’t respond.

  ‘I can tell that you do. Well, when I heard about you being here, I arranged to have a colleague stationed outside her flat in Campbelltown. I’m told that a young man by the name of Craig Williamson has just left in his Mercedes sports—God knows how these youngsters get the money— and she’s there alone. Her flatmate, one Jenny Timms, a fellow student at the university, is out. My colleague wouldn’t have any trouble getting Ms Marchant-Wallambi under his control. D’you want any more? Like the address, or the registration number of her mum’s VW? Perhaps you’d prefer my bloke to get her on the phone, just to be sure?’

  ‘No. I believe you. Low-life of your sort just love taking advantage of women.’

  ‘That’s the truth, us not being white knights like you, although I suspect you’re just a bit grey at times. Right?’

  ‘You wouldn’t have a clue.’

  He ignored that, detached a mobile from his belt and checked its charge. ‘What’s her number, Jonas?’

  Clement, still not happy, took a notebook from his pocket and read the number off. Thomas tossed me the phone. ‘Make it convincing.’

  I punched in the numbers and Sharon came on the line.

  ‘Sharon, it’s Hardy. I’ve . . . located Billie.’

  ‘That’s great. Where is she?’

  ‘Manly.’

  ‘Manly! What the hell’s she doing there. Is she in a hospital or what?’

  ‘Look, Sharon, there’s no easy way to do this. The people who took her are still in control. We’re not out of the woods. They want you to come here and try to persuade her to tell them what she knows.’

  ‘What kind of shit is this? I thought you said—’

  ‘Listen, these are serious people, very serious, and apparently there’s a lot at stake. You have to come.’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything. Are you in with them? I’m not going to make her talk to a bunch of kidnappers.’

  ‘Sharon, they’ve got someone at Sarah’s flat. She’s on her own.’

  Clement was making a call on his phone. He gestured to me to let Sharon hear what he was saying in a loud voice with his accent at full, menacing strength. ‘That is right. If you hear the phone ring anytime in the next couple of minutes, go right in and grab her.’

  So Clement wasn’t dumb either. I heard a shout of anger from Sharon. Thomas took the phone from me. ‘Ms Marchant, if you do as we ask your daughter won’t be disturbed. She won’t even know what happened. You can ring her when you get here and tell her to get Craig over there, if you wish. Until then my man is standing by.’

  Thomas returned the phone to me. ‘They’re calling the shots,’ I said. ‘I think they’re telling the truth about Sarah. They know the address, Craig’s car, all that.’

  ‘God, this is a nightmare. What do they want?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  ‘All right. I’ll come. Where is it?’

  I told her; Thomas snatched the phone and cut the connection.

  I finished the drink and put the glass on the table. ‘How about letting me see Billie? I knew Eddie Flannery pretty well and he’s supposed to be the source of whatever it is you’re trying to find out. She just might talk to me if I tell a story or two about Eddie.’

  Clement shook his head and yawned but Thomas thought it over and nodded. ‘Why not?’

  I gathered up my things. Clement moved to stop me, but Thomas, still unconcerned, waved him off. We went downstairs to a room at the back of the building. While it wasn’t exactly medical in atmosphere, it wasn’t like a bedroom either. The bed was metal framed and the furniture in the room was functional. The washbasin in the corner, though, gave it a slightly sleazy feel. A woman lay on the bed covered by a sheet and a blanket. Her eyes were closed. I went closer and could see the dark roots starting to get more prominent against the blonde hair. She was pale but with that slight tint to her skin like Sharon. In facial features they were much alike, but this woman had been through a lot more of life’s hoops.

  I looked at Thomas. ‘You said all her vital signs . . . whatever you call them are okay?’

  ‘Check ’em if you like.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know how.’

  ‘I do,’ Clement said. He put two fingers on her wrist. ‘Pulse a bit slow but not much.’ He picked up a device from the table by the bed, placed it near her ear and clicked. ‘Temperature up just a bit.’ He lifted one eyelid in a surprisingly delicate movement. ‘Nothing wrong. The bitch is faking.’

  ‘Billie,’ I said, ‘I knew your bloke Eddie pretty well when he was in the PEA game. Worked with him once or twice. I remember when he fucked the wife of that copper who was giving him trouble. What was her name again? Ruby, that’s it, Ruby Collins.’

  Clement yawned again. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘She twitched,’ I said.

  Clement flicked a cigarette lighter. ‘She’d do more than twitch if I had my way.’

  Billie lay as still as a statue.

  ‘We’ll see what the sister can do,’ Thomas said.

  18

  They put me back in the windowless room after allowing me to take a piss. I was weary and fell asleep on the hard bench, pillow or no pillow. I was awake when the door opened and Clement beckoned me out. ‘She’s here. Looks more human than her sister.’

  ‘What would you know about humanity?’

  ‘Keep it up, Hardy.’

  He herded me back to the sick room where Thomas was standing on one side of the bed with Sharon on the other. The look she gave me would have cut glass.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Did you phone Sarah?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, not looking at me. ‘Craig’s on his way.’

  Thomas rubbed the grey bristles on his face. It’d been a long day for all of us, him included. ‘Let’s get on with it, Ms Marchant. See if you can get a response from her.’

  ‘Is she sedated?’ Sharon asked.

  ‘She was, mildly. It must have worn off by now. My colleague here has some medical knowledge and believes she’s faking. He’s in favour of . . . sterner measures.’

  ‘Torture,’ I said.

  ‘Shut up, Hardy,’ Thomas snapped. ‘You’re not helping. The sooner we find out what we need to know the sooner everyone can go home or into hospital or do whatever the hell they want. With certain exceptions.’

  Sharon leaned closer to her inert sister. ‘She’s very thin in the face, gaunt. She looks dehydrated. She was deep in malnutrition . . .’

  ‘They put her on drips in the hospital and treated the pneumonia with antibiotics,’ Thomas said. ‘She’s functional. Get through to her, lady. Convince her that the best course is for her to talk to us.’

  Sharon shook her head. ‘She’s a burnt-out case. Maybe the best course is for her to die here peacefully and for all you bastards to just fuck off.’

  ‘Sharon?’ Billie said.

  Thomas smiled. ‘Good work.’

  ‘Not for you, bandy legs,’ Sharon snarled. ‘Billie, babe, we’ve really got ourselves in the shit here.’

  ‘I know,’ Billie said. ‘I was hoping they’d just give me a shot of something eventually and let me just . . .’

  ‘You’re finished with shots of something. I’ve got twenty grand to put you in detox, rehab, whatever, and get you back on your feet. Come on, babe, there’s Sammy to consider, and me and Sarah.’

  ‘Sammy,’ Billie whispered. ‘Is he okay?’

  Sharon smoothed sweat-stiffened hair from Billie’s face. ‘Yeah, he is. But these people’ve got a long reach. They threatened Sarah.’

  Billie made an effort and hoisted herself up a little so that she wasn’t just lying flat on the bed. Sharon adjusted the pillow behind her. ‘Jesus,’ Billie said, ‘I don’t know what’s going on. It’s been a blur for a while and, fuck, I could do with a fix now.’

  ‘No chance,’ Clement said.

  Thomas looked as though he wan
ted to hit him. ‘Just possibly,’ he said.

  Sharon shrugged and murmured in tune—‘ “The kids are all right”. Remember that? It applies now. Maybe we should just tell these bastards to get fucked. We’ve provided the next generation. What’s so great about life right now?’

  Clement pushed me aside and moved closer to the bed. ‘Listen, you cunt. I can give you so much pain you’ll tell me where this Sammy is and plead for me to kill him rather than go on doing what I’m doing to you.’

  ‘He’s capable of it, believe me,’ Thomas said.

  The colour drained from Sharon’s face but she stood her ground. She turned away from Clement and addressed Thomas: ‘I’m not going to do a thing while that animal’s in the room. Get rid of him and I’ll talk to her.’

  Clement protested but Thomas overruled him and ordered him out. As soon as the door closed with a well-sealed hiss, Thomas took out a pistol, waved me to a corner of the room and spoke urgently. ‘He’s very dangerous.’

  ‘Who’s to say you won’t just kill us if you get what you want?’ Sharon said. ‘And what if Billie doesn’t know anything?’

  ‘I know plenty,’ Billie said. ‘You sure about that twenty grand, sis?’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Sharon said.

  Billie turned, propped herself on an elbow, and looked at me. ‘Is he any fucking use?’

  Good question. ‘Listen, Rhys,’ I said. ‘I know you’re working for Greaves, not Clement.’

  The look on Thomas’s face told me that I was right on the money. His secret was out; he was in danger and he knew it. The question was how would he react? He could probably afford to kill me, but not Sharon and Billie. He must have been playing a cagey game between Clement and Greaves for some time but he hadn’t anticipated this and it threw him. I had to move quickly to make the most of the advantage.

  ‘Clive McGuinness told me when I put him under some pressure,’ I said. ‘But he’s out of the picture now, on his way to Bangkok.’

  ‘Fucking McGuinness,’ Thomas said. ‘That’s how you got here.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

  Billie’s cigarette and booze eroded voice cut in: ‘Who—?’

  ‘Shut up.’ I pointed to the door and got Thomas’s attention. ‘Young Clement’s nuts, you can see that. You’ve barely got him under control. Get what you want from Billie and I’ll help you take care of him. Then you can play it your way with Greaves and we’re out of here and we’ve never heard of you.’

  It wasn’t ideal, with everything coming down to Billie. From what I’d heard of her, and given her state of health, there was no way to tell which way she’d jump. She’d showed some spirit, but now she was looking dubiously at all three of us about equally. She had no way to know whether to trust Thomas or me and I could sense the history of conflict between the two sisters. She closed her eyes and Sharon grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

  ‘Billie, you can’t flake out now.’

  ‘What about something to get me up and running?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Thomas said, looming over her. ‘But let’s make this quick. Hardy’s right about Jonas. He’s dangerous. He hates me, hates his old man, hates everybody and particularly women who give him a bad time. Here’s what I want to know. It’s likely what got Eddie killed. Don’t you make the same mistake. Where’s Peter Scriven?’

  19

  So that’s what it was all about—Peter Scriven and his missing millions. If McGuinness was right, Clement knew where he was and was blackmailing him and Greaves wanted in on the action. On that analysis, it looked as if Clement Junior was being kept in the dark by his dad and planned to change things in his favour. Poor Clement Senior, betrayed on all sides. ‘It’s always about the money’ someone said, and they were just about right.

  I was absorbing this when the door swung in and Jonas Clement came barging through.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this shit. What’s she saying . . . ?’

  Thomas took a pistol from his pocket and shot Clement twice in the chest at close range. I was never going to get a better chance. I took three long strides and hit Thomas with a haymaker right that caught him on the hinge of his jaw. It had all my weight and forward movement behind it; bones grated and separated and skin split as he sagged, dropped his gun and collapsed in a heap.

  Sharon was standing stock still, and Billie had fallen back on the bed. I shook Sharon hard. ‘Pick her up. She’s just skin and bone. You can carry her. We’re getting out of here.’

  ‘Is he . . . dead?’

  ‘Yes. Move!’

  Thomas had cracked the back of his head on the floor and was unconscious. I bent over Clement, avoided the blood soaking his shirt and flipped open his jacket. The silenced gun slid out of the holster smooth as a snake. Then I picked up Thomas’s pistol. Sharon shook her head, wiggled fingers in her ears to clear them after the loud reports in the confined space, and grabbed a rigid Billie under the armpits. She raised her easily and slung her over her shoulder in a fireman’s lift, taking a sheet with her. She got her balance and looked at me.

  The door stood open and I heard movement outside. Kezza, with a piece of metal piping in his hand, was moving cautiously down the passage. I stepped out and pointed Clement’s gun at him.

  ‘Down. Right down. Drop the pipe and don’t move a muscle.’

  He kept coming and I fired, aiming at the ceiling just over his head. The pistol made a muted pop but a detached chunk of plasterboard showered him.

  ‘It’s Jonas’s quiet gun, Kezza. But I think it’s pretty effective. Want to see?’

  He dropped the pipe and stood there.

  ‘Down!’

  He lay flat on the floor, face down.

  ‘Good. Jonas is dead and Rhys is out of action. What you do next is up to you, but I’m leaving with the women and you don’t stir until we’re gone. Agreed?’

  He nodded, hitting his chin and swearing.

  I leaned back into the room and waved Sharon forward. ‘We’re off. Put Billie in your car and follow me.’

  ‘Where’re we going?’

  ‘I’ll think of somewhere.’

  The traffic had slowed and there was no sign that Thomas’s shots had attracted any attention. Kezza certainly wouldn’t be calling the cops. Sharon’s car was parked ahead of mine and I helped her to load an unresisting Billie onto the back seat. I got to my car and drove past her, moving slowly until I was sure she’d picked me up. I’d shoved both pistols inside my shirt where they sat, cold and slick with sweat, sticky with blood, above my belt. I drove without any thought of a direction while I turned things over in my mind. Who would Kezza contact? Depended what side he was really on and there was no way of telling that, but the odds were he’d get to Clement Senior first to tell him about the death of his son. He’d know from the wounds I hadn’t used his son’s small-calibre silenced gun and that the killer had to be Thomas, but would he and whoever came to help leave it that way?

  And what of Thomas? He could claim I’d flattened him, taken his gun and used it on Clement. That’s if he could talk. It’d be a thin story but Thomas was smart, smarter than Kezza, that was for sure.

  Sharon, almost tailgating, flashed her high beam lights at me, worried about where we were heading. I needed somewhere safe to go to think through this maze. It came to me as I had to decide to turn towards the city or go north. I made the decision, took the turn and raised a fist in a determined gesture to indicate a purpose. Sharon got the message and dropped back to a comfortable position.

  Clement knew where I lived and worked and so, no doubt, did Barclay Greaves. Greaves also knew where Sharon lived and about Billie’s sojourn in Liston. I used to have a good bolt-hole in the Rooftop Motel in Glebe where they’d let me put my car out of sight and didn’t bother about registering me. But the Rooftop was up for redevelopment and was closed. Always best to stick as close as you can to your own turf. I drove on automatic pilot until I pulled up outside Mike D’Angelo’s projected Lilyfield dream ho
me. A single light showed inside. Tommy was doing the right thing, minding the store.

  I told Sharon to wait in the car. I put the guns under the driver’s seat, handling them carefully, and went through the gate that opened easily now that it wasn’t weed-entangled. There was a strong, pleasant smell of slashed fennel and the cat-piss stink of cut lantana in the yard. I went to the front door and knocked quietly. The door opened cautiously.

  ‘Hey, Tommy.’

  ‘Cliff, my man. Watcha doin’ here?’

  ‘A bit of trouble, mate. I need a place to lie low for a day or so. Me and two women.’

  ‘Two women. Wow! I could do with one.’

  ‘Not like that. Okay by you?’

  ‘Sure, there’s plenty of space and I’ve cleaned the place up a bit. Not real comfortable, but.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Thanks, Tommy. I’ll get them.’

  We helped Billie from the car. She was weak but she wanted to walk and managed it with some support, although Sharon practically had to lift her up the steps. Tommy had turned on a few lights and we went into the wide hallway typical of the best Federation houses.

  ‘She sick?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but getting better. Is there a bed?’

  ‘Sort of, a sofa, like.’

  I explained to Sharon about Tommy’s job and how he’d been useful to me out at Liston. She helped Billie onto a sofa in the room Tommy showed us. It was big; polished board floor, high ceiling and double doors standing open led through to the kitchen. I could see that he’d swept the floors and wiped the surfaces. Cobwebs hung thickly in the corners of the rooms.

  ‘I eat in the kitchen or out on the back porch. There’s four bedrooms with ratty mattresses. I’ve only cleaned one out.’

  ‘We’ll manage. Anything to drink?’

  ‘Tea, coffee, coke.’

  ‘Nothing stronger?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I’ve got some brandy in the car,’ Sharon said. ‘I thought it might be needed.’

  ‘It is,’ I said. ‘Tommy, is there any way I can get my car out of sight?’

  He pointed to the dirt and stains on his once-white overalls. ‘I cleared all the shit away that was blocking the gate to the drive this arvo. Fuckin’ hard work, too. You can put it in there. Out of sight from the street.’