mind for his name — Reynolds? Rawson? Rogers, that was it, but it was one of those useless, irrelevant thoughts that come along at times like these. I should have been thinking about how to get his gun and put it down his throat.
‘I know what I’m doing,’ he said. ‘I’ve come here to ask you a few questions. If I’m satisfied with the answers I go away. If I’m not people start getting hurt.’
‘Ask away,’ I said.
‘Who are you working for?’
‘No comment.’
‘Where is Warwick Baudin?’
‘I wish I knew.’
He sighed. He was a bit stagey in his role but still efficient. ‘It looks like some pressure is needed.’ He held the gun very steady, pointed it at my belly, and hit me on the ear with a short, hard left hand chop. He knew how to hit. I went back and heard a harsh ringing start up inside my head. He moved around the bed, reached down and grabbed one of Kay’s breasts and twisted. She screamed and he slapped her hard, twice.
‘You won’t use the gun,’ I said. ‘Too much noise.’
He flexed the fingers of his hitting hand and pointed the pistol at my groin. ‘You’re wrong there. I’ve done it before. I really don’t mind doing it, you know. A private detective and a journalist, dead in bed, who’d care?’
Kay covered herself again and massaged her breast. ‘Cliff, I’m scared.’
‘So you should be,’ he said. ‘That was just a start, the possibilities are endless.’ She drew in a breath and Rogers moved a little closer to her.
‘If you scream,’ he said softly, ‘I’ll knock out a few of your teeth.’
My mind was racing trying to think why Keir Baudin had need of this animal. It had to be Keir; Rogers acted like an instrument — he was Keir’s malevolence and cruelty put into action. He had good control but he seemed to like uttering the threats and inflicting petty violence a little too much to be first class at his trade.
‘I’ll ask you again Hardy — who and where?’
I said nothing.
‘I think you’re going to have to come along with me Miss Fletcher,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’ll be more reasonable.’
‘Touch her again and I’ll kill you.’
He gave a short laugh and reached for Kay’s neck. I pushed up off the bed and went for his wrist with both hands. I got it and twisted my whole weight against it; he yelled and dropped the gun but his recovery was quick. He hit me hard in the ribs as I came flailing to my feet naked and vulnerable. His eyes searched for the gun and I swung a roundhouse punch that got him high on the head and didn’t hurt him much. He chopped at my neck and I took more of the weight of it than was comfortable. I hit him again, low down but it was too light to bother him. Then he spotted the gun and bent for it; I rushed him and jerked a knee up under his chin. He grunted, went down and got a hand to the gun but he was hurt; I took hold of his arm, twisted it round and broke it. The snapping sound was nearly as loud as his yell and I clapped my hand hard over his mouth. He sagged down with his good arm on the bed. Little moans ebbed from his mouth along with spittle.
Kay was sitting up with her knees drawn up protectively in front of her. She was looking at me but there was terror in her eyes and I knew that things wouldn’t be quite the same between us again. I grabbed a handful of tissues and crammed them into Rogers’ mouth, then I pulled off his jacket and wasn’t gentle. Blood was seeping through the sleeve of his elegantly striped shirt. I ripped the sleeve from cuff to shoulder: the bone had broken a little above the elbow joint and a white splinter was showing through the skin which was discoloured, Rogers turned his head to look at the injury, his eyes wide in shock. I removed the tissues from his mouth.
‘Hospital,’ he croaked.
‘Yeah.’ I picked up the gun and put it on the bedside table before pulling on my pants. Kay crawled across the bed towards me and I put my arm around her and stroked her hair. I lowered the sheet; a big purple bruise spread around the nipple of her breast. The whisky bottle wasn’t far away, and I reached for it and took a swig. Kay shook her head when I offered it to her and I ignored the plea in Rogers’ eyes.
‘Get dressed, love,’ I said. ‘We’re going visiting.’
‘I need medical attention,’ Rogers yelped.
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘That’s a nasty wound, gangrene’s a distinct possibility. You might bump it too. I’d say you could lose that arm.’
‘Christ,’ he moaned.
I got into my clothes; some of them were tangled with Kay’s and we exchanged smiles as we sorted them out. I was dressed and just taking another slug of the whisky when the early morning call came through. We all jumped and Rogers’ face contorted with the pain of the movement. I answered the call and then bent down close to his ear.
‘Listen you bastard, you’re taking us to Keir Baudin and you’re going to be happy to do it. One wrong move from you and you can forget about your arm. Understand?’
He nodded.
‘We don’t have to break in now Cliff?’ Kay’s voice was shaky but she was pulling herself together fast. I considered persuading her not to come, or trying to, but decided against it. She’d had some of the pain and deserved some pleasure; I also thought it might be useful to have a member of the fourth estate along.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Change of plan. Are you up to it?’
‘Yes.’ She straightened her crumpled clothes and moved around towards me, taking care to keep well clear of Rogers. ‘I’m worried about him though. That arm looks bad.’
It did, and Rogers was showing strain and the effects of shock. He probably didn’t have very long before the injury would crumple him mentally and physically. I remembered his face when he hurt Kay though and I was all out of sympathy.
‘He’s a tough boy,’ I said. ‘He’ll last until we do what we have to do, then I’ll get him to a hospital. Come on, let’s go.’
I put Rogers’ gun, a business-like Harrison amp; Richardson Defender, in my jacket pocket and we went out as a threesome. A white Honda Civic was parked handily in the motel drive. Rogers stumbled and swore as we walked across the dark, quiet parking strip to the Falcon. I opened the back door and he scrambled in cradling his arm and muttering quietly. I asked Kay if she thought she could drive the Falcon.
‘Drive anything,’ she said.
I got in the back next to Rogers, pushing aside the clothes, tools and other junk I keep there. I got out the Defender, broke it and checked it. It was clean and fully loaded.
‘Nice gun,’ I said. Kay climbed into the driver’s seat and tugged at the seat adjustment lever.
‘Shit,’ she said.
‘Sorry love, it hasn’t been moved in ten years, you’ll just have to reach a bit.’ She shuffled her feet and jiggled the gearshift.
‘Not much,’ she said. ‘Give us the keys.’
After a few blocks Kay and the Falcon sorted out and she handled it well through the empty crescents and avenues. The dark blue of Rogers’ stubble showed against his white face as if it had been applied with burnt cork; he winced and swore with the movement of the car and his hair was wet and matted from sweat.
‘I could get an infection from this shit-heap,’ he said.
‘Could be,’ I said. ‘But for now just shut up and do what you’re told if you don’t want to drive that Honda with special fittings for the handicapped.’
Forrest was quiet and still under a bright moon; the road outside the Baudin house shone under the moon and street light like the centre court at White City. I told Kay to drive a little further to where some trees on the nature strip gave us some cover. She stopped and opened her door.
‘I think you’d better stay here.’
‘I’m coming,’ she said sharply. ‘You might need a witness.’ She put her hand on the front of her dress and pressed. ‘I’m involved, remember?’
I couldn’t argue with that. I held the door open for Rogers and we made our way slowly back to the house. Rogers took a step on the path that led up to the front door but I jabbed him with my finger.
‘Around the back,’ I whispered.
