I arrived early at Kirribilli to see if I could spot the man Marinos had put on Claudia. It wasn’t easy. The cars parked along the street were either empty or occupied by people going about their ordinary business-a man was listening to a stock market report on the radio in an Audi; a woman was behind the wheel of a Corona station wagon waiting impatiently for someone to come out of a house, probably her husband; a man was working on the engine of a Hiace van and the sweat on his face and anger in his movements couldn’t have been anything but genuine.
Eventually, I located the watcher and I had to give him high marks for ingenuity and agility. He’d climbed a fence opposite the apartment block and taken up a position, well-concealed behind shrubbery. One long step up would put him on the brick pillar where the dividing fence between two properties ended and a manageable jump would leave him on the footpath just across the street from the security gate. I had to assume that one of the cars parked nearby was his. I only spotted him when he swatted at an insect. I’ve done a fair bit of shrubbery sitting in my time and my guess was a fly somewhere near the ear-no man alive can withstand that.
I strolled up and leaned against the post. ‘My name’s Hardy,’ I said. ‘I asked Pete to put you on. You can knock off now. I’m going to be spending the next few hours with the lady myself.’
A voice came from the foliage. ‘Right. I’ll just wait until you’re in there and then I’ll disappear.’
‘Been having fun?’
‘I’ve got a Walkman. Been listening to the races.’
‘Good luck. Many callers over there?’
‘I’ll report to Pete, Mr Hardy. Check with him.’
‘You’re a pro.’ I went across the street and pressed the button for the Fleischman apartment.
‘Yes?’ The almost-lisp.
‘It’s Hardy.’
‘So it is. Come on in.’
I hadn’t realised, but should have known, that Julius would have good security-closed-circuit television giving the resident a good look at the caller. Essential. I went through the garden and pressed another button to gain admission to the building. Halfway up the stairs I realised that I’d come empty-handed- no flowers, no wine. Living without a woman had eroded my sense of gallantry. Just have to rely on the good old Hardy charm. I rang the bell beside the door and there was a pause after I heard the approaching footsteps. I guessed she was looking at me through the spyglass. That made three levels of security Julius had installed between them and the street and I wondered how she felt about that.
The door opened wide and welcoming. Claudia stood there in a tight black dress with a short skirt. She wore high heels and dark stockings and her hair was piled up with some wisps free and hanging down. At that moment I thought I understood Julius’ strategies-I’d have wanted to give her Fort Knox style protection too, if she’d been mine. She examined me as if I was a painting on a wall.
‘You’re all right? You’re not hurt?’
I shook my head. She reached out and took me by the arm, drew me inside. ‘It was on the TV news. They showed a picture of your car and I nearly died. Come and have a drink and tell me what happened.’
We went out onto the balcony where she had a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label, ice, soda and low- calorie ginger ale. The air was still warm after a warm day but the light breeze was fresh. Good drinking conditions. I had a generous whack of the Scotch over ice while she had half my amount drowned in ginger ale. We sat, pointing ourselves towards the bridge. I told her about the grenades and how by good luck I’d managed to keep my arms and legs attached to the other bits.
‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘Does that sort of thing happen to you often?’
‘No. And not lately. I’m not working on anything else important, Claudia, and I don’t have a backlog of desperate enemies. It has to be to do with you.’
She sipped her concoction. I realised how much I’d needed a drink when I saw that most of this one had gone. I swirled the ice cubes.
‘I suppose you feel you have a right to ask me anything now that you’ve risked your life for me?’
‘I wouldn’t put it like that.’ I reached for the bottle, poured myself a judicious measure and added a little soda water. ‘But I’ve done a little preliminary work and all I’ve come up with is questions, about you, about Wilson Katz, about Judith Daniels. I’ll be needing answers and you must have some of them.’
‘I’m sure I do. I’ll tell you everything I can, but can we go out for a while first? It’s been so long since I’ve done anything normal like going out for a meal.’
‘Of course we can and let’s keep it normal. I won’t ask any questions while we’re out.’
She stood up and plucked at a few of the hanging wisps, making them wispier. ‘That’s good, because you’re in for some surprises, Cliff.’
‘I like surprises,’ I said.
7
We went to the Malaya restaurant in North Sydney. Claudia said the other similar establishment in Broadway was one of her favourite places when she was a student and she wanted to try the north-of-the-harbour version. I’d been there once or twice and liked it well enough although South-East Asian food isn’t the delight to me that it is to some people. We sat on the mezzanine floor where we could look down at other diners and out a big window towards buildings where the lights were just beginning to show up as darkness spread over the city. Claudia had put on a white silk jacket over her dress. Now she slipped it off and arranged it carefully on the back of her chair so it wouldn’t crease too much. It looked like the gesture of a person used to taking care of her clothes rather than one who had so much money it didn’t matter.
‘I want short soup, prawn sambal and boiled rice,’ she said.
‘I bow to your expertise. What d’you want to drink?’
She shrugged. I noticed how smooth and shapely her shoulders were, not bony, not fleshy, just right. It’s rare to see perfect shoulders. ‘Doesn’t matter. Any dry white wine with mineral water to dilute it.’
‘Okay. I can remember when we used to order a couple of bottles just to save the waiter the trouble of coming over again. Now we have to think, what is it? Two standard drinks per hour or whatever?’
‘You can drink as much as you like. A couple of spritzers’ll do me. I can drive the Camry. I’m not sure about that Falcon of yours. Was it a manual?’
‘Yeah. It was.’
I put the. 38, which I’d oiled and cleaned, in the pocket of my jacket. I took the jacket off and hung it on my chair like Claudia. The lightweight harness I slid round further under my armpit. At a glance it wouldn’t look much different to a pair of rather unusual braces. Claudia watched but said nothing.
The drink waiter came and I ordered a bottle of Chardonnay and the mineral water. Claudia ordered the food and she added mixed vegetables. The wine arrived. Claudia gazed around the room and down below. She took her first drink and it seemed to relax her. She smiled, or maybe just relaxed her mouth and the forward thrusting teeth did the rest.
‘What are you looking at?’ she said sharply.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I broke up with the woman I’d been with for a few years not so long back. I was probably staring at you. It’s so good to have such attractive company.’
‘Thanks. I’m glad to be here with you, too. You’re holding together pretty well. You’re what-late forties?’
I nodded. ‘Fairly late.’
Peter Corris
CH19 — The Washington Club
‘Good bones,’ she said. ‘And hair. They’ll see you through.’
The food came in bowls and dishes and an insulated bucket along with chopsticks at which I’ve never been a master. We worked our way through it, communicating well it seemed to me, but talking about nothing in particular. About halfway through Claudia reached across the table and touched my arm. I’d rolled up my sleeves-the sambal was having an effect on the sweat glands.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘It’s Malcolm Turnbull.’
