plastic seat that was bolted to the floor and intercepted him as he approached the lockers. He didnt say anything, didnt move. She had nearly killed him three months ago and he wondered if death was part of this deal.
Fifteen
Wyatt backed away a little. It was a bad place to be plenty of exits but he was underground, in a city he didnt know, among people who would profit by his being dead.
Anna Reid seemed to sense this in him. She stood well clear, her hands where he could see them, and said, Wyatt, its okay, as if shed backed a risky dog into a corner. He stopped, his eyes restlessly scanning the crowd thronging the terminal.
Mr Stolle, Anna said. She smiled and shook Stolles hand.
Wyatt watched them closely. He saw Anna stand centimetres from Stolle and hand him a buff-coloured business envelope from the bag over her shoulder. The envelope disappeared somewhere inside Stolles coat. The transaction was quick and neat. No-one else saw it. Its all there, she told him.
The grin was wide on Stolles face. I trust you. Listen, now Im here, how about dinner one night?
He waited. Anna Reid stared at him. Then she said distinctly, You must be joking.
Stolle flushed. He said, You lousy cow, and backed away.
Anna watched him go. She wore a sleeveless cotton dress, olive green, and black sandals. Her hair, black and straight and fine, was drawn back behind each ear. It gave her a poised, challenging air. When Stolle was gone, she turned back to Wyatt. Give me the key.
He handed it to her. The number 226 stencilled on the locker door was chipped and faded. She opened it, took out an Ansett bag, and gave it to him. He slung it over his shoulder wordlessly. It felt light, but the bag had been padded out to give it bulk, probably with balled-up newspaper. She said what shed said to Stolle: Its all there.
Wyatt said harshly, Whats this about?
She ignored him. Have you had lunch?
Forget it.
He wanted to get away from her, from this place under the street where no natural light ever penetrated. He turned to leave, and as he did so she caught his arm. Her grip was strong. Ive got a job for you.
The low voice, the pressure on his arm, made him remember her, and at once some of the tension went out of him. Anna Reid had embroiled him in a chain of disasters but he remembered the heat of her, the kind of energy that spelt danger and risky rewards. They had acknowledged one anothers lawlessness and there had been a time when hed believed they could work together. Then it had all gone wrong. Hed had the chance to kill her, just as hed killed Harbutt, but he had not done it and, since then, whenever she had surfaced in his mind, hed been glad that he hadnt. Hed mostly put her out of his thoughts but sometimes an image of her lurked in the recesses of his mind. At those times a melancholy would settle over him.
But he didnt trust her. He trusted only himself, a fact that had kept him alive and on this side of the barred windows and the razor wire.
Wyatt? She shook his arm. Hear me out?
He looked at the ground. Someone had stepped in chewing gum, a streak of it stretching from the heart of the wad. He wasnt used to her and he wasnt used to this.
Have lunch with me? Listen to what I have to say?
He nodded. It was the warmest he could get.
She took him into the mall, turning right toward the river. A hundred metres down, in the centre of the mall, was an open-air bistro. Anna led him to an umbrella-shaded table set flush against the waist-high enclosure that separated the tables from the tourists and the shoppers. The cover was good for the things they had to say to each other. A Madonna clip blasted out from an adjacent Just Jeans outlet and a kid with a squeezebox was busking for coins on the opposite side of the mall. There was also a catwalk nearby, a man in a tuxedo squawking into a microphone as young women paraded in bathing suits. Wyatt watched the people watching the parade. Japanese tour parties, a couple of backpackers with peeling noses, students, shoppers. Almost everyone wore shorts and sneakers, so he forgot about watching for the kind of body language that said someone was packing a gun and meant him harm.
They ordered club sandwiches and a jug of water. Anna Reid also ordered wine in a small carafe. Wyatt didnt touch the wine. He said, What are you doing here?
She knew what he meant. I grew up here, remember?
Yes.
So after the fuck-up in Melbourne I packed it in down there and came back here to live.
The fuck-up didnt ring true. Shed forced it, as if she hoped it might establish a common ground between them, something hard and streetwise. She saw the shutter close over Wyatts face, and went on quickly: I walked straight into a good job.
She paused and searched his face for some encouragement. Wyatt didnt help her. There was no expression in his eyes, no softening, only a kind of hard summary.
You know, she said, that time in Melbourne… I didnt mean
She stopped, but Wyatt was still focused on her, a force complete and silent.
She said rapidly, I slept with you because I wanted to, not because it would make the job go smoother.
He continued to watch her.
I didnt know in advance what would happen with you. Surely you can see that?
Wyatt maintained his hard silence. He didnt eat, didnt touch his glass.
Sometimes I think of you, Anna said. I didnt mean for things to go wrong.
Wyatt leaned toward her and his directness was unnerving. You set up a scam that was intended to make you a lot of money. You put the money ahead of me. Know that about yourself.
She flushed. That pretty well makes us alike, wouldnt you say?
He didnt answer and he didnt let his face show anything. The truth was, she would have killed him then if he hadnt stopped her; hed had the chance to kill her and he hadnt taken it. That fact lay there between them and he hated it. He said, The past is a waste of time. Its only good for reminding you that it repeats itself. What do you want?
She was still angry and showed it. Not to kill you, if thats whats bothering you, and certainly not you for yourself. As I said, theres a job youd be good at. The moneys big, up to a couple of million, all large denominations so itll be easy to bundle.
What happens if I say no?
She looked tired suddenly. Youre free to go. The five thousand is yours, no strings attached.
People hurried by a few metres away. Just down from the bistro the fashion parade MC was inviting the gawkers to give his girls a great big hand. Wyatt tried a smile. Once it started, it was genuine. Tell me about it.
Anna nodded and some of her anger drained away. I work in the head office of an insurance company, run of the mill legal work. Several weeks ago a memo came across my desk from TrustBank, asking for a ruling on liability in a one-off matter affecting one of their branches. She leaned forward, dropping her voice. Between here and the Gold Coast theres a sprawling development called Logan City: new low-cost housing, down-market shopping centres, blue collar and lower white collar workers, young families, mortgages, high unemployment. TrustBank has a main branch there and two smaller branches. On Friday week the two minor branches will be closed for a security upgrade. The work will be carried out over one weekend and all their funds will be transferred to the main branch. As I said, up to two million, all in one place.
She sat back. I want you to hit that bank. I think its possible.
On Friday week?
She smiled apologetically. For a while there I didnt think Stolle would find you in time.
Rob it all by myself, Wyatt said.
I know people. I used to run with some hard cases when I was young, people my father used to defend
