I don’t know how long I lay there, but it was long enough for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. I was in an infirmary or clinic. I could see the outline of a sink; the faint light gleamed on polished chrome and the smells were of disinfectant, rubber, bleach. Not reassuring, especially for a hospital-hater like me. I could see heavy gauge pipes overhead indicating that I was well below the surface in a large building. The air-conditioning whispered, the pipes hummed slightly and there were occasional muffled noises coming from far away.
My stiff shoulder and the arm that had been coshed screamed to be eased; prolonged nose breathing was becoming difficult and I was a mass of itches and tics that needed attention. The panic started to rise again and I tried to chew at the tape across my mouth. I pushed at it with my tongue and turned my head, attempting to rub it against the hard surface I was lying on. No luck. All I managed to do was get a foul taste in my mouth and sink a tooth into my bottom lip. I wriggled my fingers and toes and didn’t seem to be getting much wriggle at either end. Sweat broke out on my forehead and ran down into my eyes. Things ere getting worse and it was all my own doing. I struggled for breath and for one second I thought I was going to swallow my tongue. I also thought I was going to shit myself and lose control of my bladder. Couldn’t have that. I’d never done that, not even in Malaya when the bullets were shredding the undergrowth around me.
Dook, Dook, Dook…
The door opened and two men walked in. I recognised one of them-Runty-before the light came on. The light blinded me for a few seconds and I recognised the second man by his voice.
‘I wish I could just slide him into the fucking water, just the way he is.’
Ken Galvani. I blinked and looked at him- a porker, black receding hair brushed back, aftershave on his blue jowls, tuxedo.
‘Yeah, you know me, Hardy. You fucking nuisance. You interfering prick. What did you have to stick your nose in for? You could have told Gina to forget it. Hysterical bloody woman. I told Scott he was a fucking idiot for marrying her. Women belong at home, in the house, in the kitchen, in the fucking bedroom!’
He was working himself up and I hoped it wasn’t to do something I’d regret. I closed my eyes.
‘Christ, what’ve you fuckwits done to him? He’s not going to fucking die, is he?’
The most hopeful sounds I’d heard in how long? Minutes? Hours? Days?
‘Nah,’ Runty said. ‘We never touched him hardly. Just shot some dope into him. He’s all right. Supposed to be pretty tough.’
‘Rip the tape off. I have to talk to the bugger.’
Rip it he did, taking some skin with it. The pain brought tears to my eyes.
‘I dunno about tough,’ Galvani said. ‘Looks to me like he’s crying.’
‘Untie me, get rid of Runty and let me get my circulation back,’ I croaked. ‘Then we can see who’s tough.’
‘What did you call me?’
Galvani thumped the smaller man’s shoulder with a meaty fist. ‘It’s as good a name as any, unless you reckon Fuck-up would be better. Get him some water, I can hardly understand what he’s saying.’
Galvani undid the straps holding me to the trolley, still leaving me tied hand and foot. Slowly and painfully I lifted myself up and swung around so my legs were hanging over the edge. The blood rushing to places where it hadn’t been for a while caused shooting pains and jumping nerves but the movement was still a relief. Runty went to the sink and came back with a plastic cup of water. I tipped my head back and he poured it in, too fast, but I got it down in a couple of gulps.
‘That’s the first nice thing you’ve done for me,’ I said. ‘But I’ll still beat the shit out of you if I get the chance. Where’s your bald-headed mate? I’d like to have a go at him too.’
‘You’re not having a go at anyone, Hardy,’ Galvani said. ‘What I’d really like to do with you is stick you in a barrel and slip you into the harbour somewhere.’
I grinned at him and felt the blood on my mouth from where I’d bitten myself and from where the tape had been ripped away. ‘But you can’t, because if the casino loses two security men in a couple of weeks questions are bound to be asked and you don’t want that.’
He looked at me disgustedly. ‘Christ, you’re a fucking mess. How could someone who’s supposed to be smart like you get yourself so screwed up?’
‘It’s a talent, also Scott was a friend of mine.’
A silence fell in the grey-painted, soulless room. Runty leaned against a wall and looked bored. Galvani took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one with a gold lighter. ‘It was an accident. A bloody awful accident. Should never have happened.’
‘Yeah. What about Clark, the architect?’
‘He jumped.’
‘After someone scared him shitless.’
‘He was shitless, gutless and everything else. I suppose you’ve got it all worked out?’
‘Not by a long way. How about some more water?’
Galvani waved at Runty who complied, but this time I collected a mouthful and sprayed it over him. He got ready to hit me but Galvani stopped him. This was getting better and better all the time, now I was protected property. Any minute he’d be untying me and offering me a real drink.
‘In a way, Hardy, I blame you for getting my brother killed. But we won’t go into that. What I will do is try to keep you alive. You want to stay alive, don’t you?’
I didn’t answer.
‘You do nothing for a month, understand. You just do your job here and that’s all. Plus whatever other shitty little business you’ve got on the side. I don’t care. But you don’t talk to anyone about this-not to your copper mates or your lawyer mates or your journalist mates. No one!’
‘Why would I agree?’
‘Because if you don’t, Gina is dead. As far as I’m concerned she’s a stuck-up northern bitch who’d be no loss. My family’d take care of the kids better than she can. So, you get it? Do fuck-all for a month and she lives, interfere and she’s dead.’
‘Why a month?’
He dropped his cigarette on the highly polished floor and stood on it. ‘No more talk. No explanations. I won’t say take it or leave it because you can’t fucking leave it, can you?’
He was right there. My mind was teeming with questions but I could tell I wasn’t going to get any answers. I’d only learned one thing-he’d said I was to do my job ‘here’, meaning we were somewhere inside the casino. Not much help. I stared at him, trying to think of something to threaten him with, something to exert some leverage. And I didn’t have a cracker. Galvani would have Scott’s notebook and the tape and transcript for sure. If Julian Clark had really jumped there’d be no hard evidence of a connection there. They could patch up the Commodore and I still didn’t know what lay behind it all.
Galvani must have seen the defeat in my face because he smiled. His jowls wobbled a bit and he relaxed his body, letting his belly sag forward. He was a long way from being Pavarotti-shaped, but getting there. I would have liked to swing a couple of punches into his flab. He said something in Italian to Runty.
‘Sorry, I only talk Australian.’
‘Shit,’ Galvani barked. ‘Get the needle. This fucker’s going back to sleep.’
21
When you wake up from a bad dream, you’re relieved to find that everything you were dreaming about has gone. This was the reverse. I came awake in my own bed and knew instantly that it was all true. The physical evidence was clear-the sore arm, chafed wrists and ankles, dry throat and mouth and a listless feeling, something like a hangover, something like heat exhaustion. My clothes were neatly folded on a chair. Sitting on top of them were Scott’s notebook, a cassette tape and a set of car keys. My watch was on the bedside table-it was 1 p.m. I’d lost about twenty out of the last twenty-four hours. Realising this made me feel weak, as if I was losing control of everything.
I struggled out of bed and picked up the notebook. The pages dealing with Scott’s investigation of his
