his hair. His lubricous ex-wife wanted him back, so he must be adequate in the sack. The Fleischman corporate structure might be in trouble but Katz was only an employee, albeit a highly-paid one, so he wasn’t liable if the thing came crashing down. Why, then, for a second time, was he acting so terribly worried?
Third time lucky. Gatellari answered.
‘Mr Hardy, good. I’ve been trying to reach you but I think this phone’s on the blink. I’d better talk fast. The house belongs to someone named Angela Tawney. No one around seems to know what she does. She’s almost never there. Here’s the bad news-no phone.’
A true retreat. I groaned. ‘Are you sure Mrs Fleischman’s still there?’
‘Ninety per cent sure at least. I haven’t been able to keep every ferry and water taxi under scrutiny because I’ve been ducking in here and there checking on things. There’s a chance she slipped by but I don’t think so. Pete said to take my instructions from you. What d’you want me to do next?’
I considered. I could ask Gatellari to deliver a message, ask Claudia to ring me. But there was no guarantee she’d do it and a phone call wasn’t the answer anyway. Besides that, she could react very badly to a strange man walking up the garden path to her hideaway. No help for it.
‘I’ll have to come up,’ I said. ‘I’m in Northbridge. It’ll take a good hour or more to Palm Beach. Are these water taxis available all the time?’
‘Pretty much. I can book one for, say, seven. An hour and a half from now.’
‘Thanks. Do that, would you? I’ll see you on the wharf. And I’ll tell Pete you’re doing a great job.’
‘Better make sure she’s there before you do that.’
‘There’s no other way in or out?’
‘Not really. Something like a ten mile hike through pretty rough country to a road. Is the lady a bushwalker?’
‘I don’t think so. Look, I don’t like to ask you, but could you have a sandwich or a hamburger or something on hand for me? I’m going to be famished by then.’
‘Sure. No problem.’
‘And a couple of cans of beer and a decent bottle of white wine.’
‘Prawns? Oysters? Caviar?’
‘Don’t be a smartarse. I’ll see you soon.’
‘What if she takes off before you get here?’
‘Jesus, don’t say that. In that event we’ll just have to pray that bloody phone of yours works.’
21
The Nissan was equipped with a copy of 200 Kilometres around Sydney, and I took a look at it when I stopped for petrol. Bluefin Bay was across Pittwater from Palm Beach and slightly to the north. The peninsula was part of the Kuringgai Chase National Park, but there were a couple of tiny settlements tucked away, little bits of highly desirable and expensive freehold and leasehold that predated the declaration of the park. I was familiar with such enclaves in the Royal National Park to the south. The better heeled residents have their own boat docks and resent tourists and newcomers. As I pushed the car along the Pacific Highway, I wondered idly who Angela Tawney might be and why she didn’t spend any time in her retreat. If I had such a place… fat chance.
Gatellari was waiting for me at the ferry wharf. We shook hands and I thanked him for his good work. He described the house to me and explained exactly where it was-there were no street names or numbers. The house was called Ecco.
‘That means “Here it is” in Greek.’
I looked at him and he shrugged. ‘Italian father, Greek mother.’
‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘A true Australian.’
He laughed and handed me a soft-pack cooler holding two bottles of white wine and three cans of beer. He gave me a plastic bag which held a steak sandwich in a styrofoam box, a container of coleslaw and two sachets of tomato sauce.
‘You think of everything,’ I said.
‘Tell it to my wife. The lady certainly hasn’t left since I last spoke to you and a few discreet enquiries suggest that she’s still there. Is there anything else you need?’
I shook my head and signalled to the water-taxi operator that I was coming.
‘Pete said to tell you the job offer’s always open,’ he said.
‘Tell him thanks but no thanks, and not to pad the bill.’
The trip across the water took less than twenty minutes. A wind had got up and the crossing was fairly rough, but the fast, light boat danced over the waves and I’ve never been subject to seasickness. The thought didn’t even occur to me as I ate the steak sandwich and coleslaw and drank two of the cans of beer. I gave the third can to the boatman, who said he’d drink it when he got back to Palm Beach.
‘Suppose I want to come back in an hour or so,’ I said. ‘What’s the drill?’
He didn’t answer and I thought he hadn’t heard me in the high wind. After a minute he nodded and turned his head towards me. ‘Sorry, mate. Channel’s a bit tricky just here. Have to concentrate. You can phone from the wharf over there. Cost you, though. This’s forty bucks. Be sixty to come over and get you.’
‘Okay. I hope I’ll be staying.’
‘Good luck to you, mate.’
It was getting dark when we docked at the small wharf in Bluefin Bay and a few of the houses had lights showing. I lugged the cooler up the rough track, which was longer than Gatellari had led me to believe. The wind buffeted me and I was sweating slightly by the time I got to the dirt road that fronted the scattering of houses running along to a point about five hundred metres away. The land rose sharply behind them and I could just catch a glimpse of tin roofs and windows on the hill. The view east past Barranjoey Head would be really something from there.
The water taxi pulled away from the dock and the wind carried the sound of its motor to me until it disappeared around the point. Ecco was the eighth house of the dozen or so with nothing between them and water but grass and trees. It was up towards the back of a sloping, bushy block and designed to harmonise with the surrounds and the conditions-cream-painted weatherboard, lots of glass, timber deck, double-pitch tin roof, louvred shutters to all the windows. There was a bougainvillea hedge in front and the path leading up to the front verandah had been built from old railway sleepers long before recycling was heard of.
I was suddenly nervous, the quintessential uninvited guest, but I told myself I had important business that couldn’t wait. The truth was, I had an urgent need to see the woman and the business was only a part of it. I snagged myself on the bougainvillea as I went through the opening. The thorns caught the back of my right hand and ripped the skin. I swore and sucked at the bleeding wound but not before some of the blood had got on my jacket. Fine way to go calling on a lady.
The front garden was badly overgrown, with weeds and blackberry threatening to take over the lawn, flower beds and shrubs. Someone had taken a bit of a hack at the mess recently with a scythe or bush knife but had given up without making much headway. Weeds poked up through gaps in the sleepers and the wooden steps leading up to the verandah. Still, the place wore its run-down air lightly, like an out-of-work actor who might suddenly land a big part and be very spruce again. I flicked at a buzzing mosquito and went up the steps.
The solid front door had stained-glass panels making it difficult to see in, but I was pretty sure I could detect a light towards the back. I put the cooler down. I thought I heard music far in the distance but it might just have been cicadas or all the other singing and croaking things out there having a good time.
I peered through the panel. Maybe I was mistaken about the light. I tried the handle and the door opened. Terrific security. I swore under my breath. I held the door a few inches open and went inside. The door swung back and I caught it before it closed. Was she here? Was anyone else here? Were there any guns about? I ignored the mosquitoes but wiped sweat from my eyes and palms. I had the. 38 in a dry hand.
‘Claudia,’ I said firmly, not too loud. ‘Claudia, it’s Cliff Hardy. Are you there?’
