I could almost see the brain wheels turning. I still didn't like him, but there was no denying his smarts. No nervous gestures from him though; he was still in control as he weighed the odds. 'Out from under,' he said. 'Strange expression. I don't have any problems. What makes you think I do?'
'I've been told you're smuggling drugs in from Indonesia.'
He threw back his head and the laugh that came from him was genuine and full-hearted, perhaps with a touch of relief in it. 'Me? Smuggling drugs? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Every link in that chain is compromised. More money changes hands for information and corruption than ever gets made by anyone involved. It's a high risk business, too high.'
'Sounds as though you've considered it.'
'Oh yes.'
'I've got that from two sources.'
'Well, I might've given some people that impression. Look, if I tell you what I'm on about, or give you an idea of it, will you tell me what I want to know?'
'I guess. If you'll contact your mother, confirm that you've spoken to me and that you're alive and well.'
'Protecting your arse. All right. I don't like it but all right.'
'Unship your mobile and do it now.'
He didn't like that, but he'd painted himself into a corner. He rang the hospital and asked to be put through to the ward. 'Mother?' he said.
I came around the desk and heard Catherine Heysen's distinctive voice, perhaps less confident than it had been previously. 'William, is that you?'
'Yes, Mother. I'm talking to your private detective with the split lip and the aching back-Mr Hardy, in his Newtown office. Here he is.'
He was full of tricks. I took the phone, said a few words and then busied myself making coffee. The conversation obviously didn't go well for either of them, but it met my stipulation. He closed off the call as the coffee maker began its geriatric process.
'Satisfied?' he said.
'Yeah. So what's your game?'
He put the tiny phone back in his jacket pocket and I wondered if he'd used it to take a photograph or record the conversation or do any of the hundred and one things they're capable of doing these days. From his smug self- satisfied look it seemed possible, but he was still the one who had had to ante up first.
'I suppose you could say I'm into immigration facilitation.'
18
People-smuggling,' I said.
He shook his head. 'That reeks of leaky boats and sleazy types fleecing ignorant peasants. I deal at the top end of the market.'
Add conceit to the list of his unpleasant characteristics.
'Which means?'
'Mr Hardy, I speak Arabic, Indonesian, Urdu, Tamil and a few other languages. When I apply myself, I can pick up a working knowledge of a language in a matter of weeks. As a consequence, I have contacts in many places- consulates, embassies. Anyone who arrives in this country under my auspices arrives in comfort with convincing documentation.' He laughed and did a very fair imitation of the bleating voice of John Howard. 'I will decide who comes to this country.'
'For a price.'
'Naturally, but with full value for money.'
'I wouldn't say I was totally out of sympathy with that, but it's still an illegal activity and the penalties are heavy.'
'There won't be any penalties. Now, suppose you enlighten me about my paternity.' His good-looking face was suddenly less attractive wearing a sneer. 'I'll tell you one thing-it wasn't a virgin birth. She… never mind.'
Referring to my notebook, I told him the story without the names. He listened closely and I had the feeling that he was committing every detail to memory. The coffee machine went quiet and I took two polystyrene cups from the desk drawer and held one up.
'No,' he said. 'So he was crooked anyway, whether or not he set up his partner's death.'
I'd expected him to comment on his mother's doubt about his paternity and I said so. I poured the coffee and sipped it. Bitter as usual-perhaps more bitter than usual.
He waved a hand dismissively. 'Couldn't care less. Almost certainly a fantasy of hers to draw this bloke into her web. She's done similar things before. Anyway, the nature or nurture debate doesn't interest me much. If the nature includes a criminal doctor or a policeman it doesn't matter. The nurture was lousy. All pretence on both our parts. I consider that I made myself what I am.'
'That's very arrogant.'
'Depends on your standpoint. I'm more interested in this idea that an aggrieved client from the past could want to shut you both down. That's intriguing. How do you plan to handle it?'
'Not sure why I should tell you, but I will. First, make sure she's safe. I was told to drop it, but I'm going to persist in the hope that it draws the person out.'
'A Judas goat?'
Somehow you don't expect the young, brought up on television and video games, to know about such things, but William Heysen was a surprise package.
'Something like that.'
'Might work, or you might get yourself killed.'
'So might you unless you get out of the business you're in and take yourself off somewhere.'
He stood and stretched. 'When do the results of the paternity test come through? I noticed there was some stuff missing from my room.'
'I don't know. But the man I spoke of is willing to help you whatever the result.'
He flashed a smile. 'Oh, Jesus, he's in love with her, is he?'
'No.'
'Probably is. Wouldn't be the first. She always had a thing for uniforms. Well, that's very big of him and he might come in useful some day. I suppose I can get in touch with him through you?'
'That depends.'
'On what?'
'On whether I decide you're worth helping.'
'Good point.' He pulled his car keys from his pocket and put them on the desk while he adjusted the sit of his pants. 'Don't try to follow me, please. That'd be very annoying.'
He strolled out and I let him go having the last word. If I'd responded he would've just come back with something smart anyway. I checked his DOB in my notes. He was twenty-four. Too old to be called precocious, too young to be called wise except in the American sense-a wiseguy. He might have considered that he'd made himself and downplayed nature and nurture, but he was his mother's son to a tee. The same conceit, arrogance and composure, the same quick grasp of what was going on and how to turn it to advantage.
He wasn't quite as smart as he thought, though. His car keys had a tag with the registration number on it. I'd memorised it and now I wrote it down. I scribbled notes on the encounter, catching some of his expressions-verbal and physical. It was easy to see the schoolboy athlete in him, and easy to believe that he could learn a language at the drop of a hat. For all that, there was something missing in him, some lack. He was cold, but it was more than that. I couldn't put my finger on it and registered the feeling on the page with a large question mark. One thing was for sure, though-I knew I'd be seeing him again.
Somehow, someone had been keeping an eye on me. There were ways to find that someone, strategies. I could walk or drive to certain places; there were people I could contact to watch me being watched and take action. Unless the watcher was super-professional and very experienced these strategies would work and I was
