'Perhaps you would like a quill pen and a pot of ink, Miss James?' The instructor's voice had dripped sarcasm. 'Or are you thinking of joining the rest of us in the late twentieth century?'

  He punched in the code.

  'I can't,' Cassie said. 'I just can't.'

  Dunlop moved the receiver so the sound of pouring the drink wouldn't carry. He needed it for this call. 'You have to see him just this one time. Things are moving too fast. I can't stall on this.'

  'You promised me.'

  He sipped. The scotch helped. Definitely. 'Listen, I'm doing what I can. You just have to be in the court for a while. That's all. I'm not going to let him talk to you. That's not going to happen, but he'll freak out completely if he doesn't see you tomorrow. The psychologist reports that he's on a knife edge. It'll only be once and not the way he wanted. I'll tell him I couldn't swing it and he'll have to believe me.'

  'I'm scared. What if he . . .'

  'He won't. He's a very controlled guy with a lot of pride. He'll give me hell afterwards, but I can handle him.'

  'It sounds almost as if you like him.'

  'No, but I love you. That's what this is all about now.'

  'How long away is it? After the trial?'

  'A month at the most. Maybe less.'

  'I want to see you tonight.'

  'We can't. We have to be careful. I've got a lot to do.'

  'And I just have to wait? Won't you be at the trial?'

  Dunlop sipped his drink and laughed.

  'Why're you laughing?'

  'I'll be in the bunker. I'll see you on closed-circuit TV. I'll be one of those thousands of guys lusting after you on TV.'

  'Luke, darling, don't laugh. Don't joke. I love you. I want to see you. I want to talk to you and find out things. Oh, shit . . .'

  'We'll do all that. We'll do everything.'

  'You know how it'd be if he found out about us, don't you? He'd kill us both.'

  Cassie was talking from the studio. He'd activated the electronic sweep and was confident the phones were secure. He confirmed with Cassie that he'd be at her Coledale beach house on Saturday as they'd arranged.

  'Why not Friday?'

  'Saturday. I'll explain. Goodbye, love.'

  He rang off and let out a long sigh. The house was quiet. Then a plane roared low overhead and a trickle of plaster spilled from the ceiling. Dunlop smiled. What the hell. You'd chuck it all away for one more night with her. You know you would. He took his glass with the half inch of whisky in it to the kitchen and added water until the colour was a light amber. He raised the glass, toasting the blank white wall.

  'Sorry, P46.' He drank and the thought struck him that, in more ways than one, he'd changed places with Kerry Douglas Loew.

  Dunlop's Laser had developed an irritating rattle. As he drove he cursed whoever it was who'd broken into his car and stolen his golf clubs. He remembered his hole-in-one and made a mental note to pick up his trophy. Normal thoughts on a normal summer evening drive. He drove around Newtown and Erskineville until he was sure he wasn't being followed and then headed for Neutral Bay. He parked in Military Road and went on foot towards the water and Cassie's block of flats.

  She was due back from a filming session for an updated version of her workout video at nine o'clock. Dunlop was in the shadows in a strip of parkland opposite the entrance to the flats at eight-forty. Cassie didn't drive and travelled by cab. He told himself that he was there to see if she was under surveillance and he knew that was partly true. He'd see if she had a tail. He'd watch and wait, do a sweep of the streets looking for a bugging vehicle or anyone taking an unnecessary interest in the flats.

  But that was only part of it. Would she arrive on time? Would she be alone? Would she go to bed with a book as she'd said, or do something else? He'd had advanced training in suspicion and knew no other way to behave. Was it professional caution or sheer jealousy? He didn't know and he didn't care. His electrician father, Henry Carter, normally a mild man, became irate on the subject of people who did their own home wiring. He lacked sympathy even with those who electrocuted themselves. 'Playing around with the most dangerous stuff there is—bunnies!' To Dunlop's mind, love and betrayal were equally as dangerous as electric current and he wasn't going to be a bunny.

  The taxi pulled up at seven minutes past nine. Cassie got out and walked quickly to the security door. She was wearing a white tracksuit and Reeboks and carrying a sports bag. She went past the sign advertising one of the units for sale, moving like a cat. Dunlop was tempted. All clear, he thought. I could call out to her now and we could be fucking in ten minutes. He clamped his jaw shut and didn't stir, concentrating on the taxi as it drove away. When he looked for her again Cassie was gone. Lights were on in several of the apartments and there was loud music coming from a corner one on the second level. The light came on in the fourth floor window but the curtain remained closed. Dunlop watched for twenty minutes, then he moved quietly away, slipping between the trees, towards the street. He didn't want to see her on the balcony. He thought of her showering. Thought of showering with her. Thought of the feel of the hot water and soap on their bodies. They'd showered that way at his place before she left. He almost turned back.

  Then he was on the street and professionalism took over. He began a slow tour of the neighbourhood, checking the parked cars, watching the moving vehicles to see if any were in a pattern. Back at the flats and Cassie's light was still on. He watched the entrance to the underground car park of the flats for fifteen minutes. He checked telephone booths and bus shelters.

  Eventually he returned to the pocket handkerchief park. People laughed and smoked on the balcony of the second floor flat. The party had got going. The light went out in Cassie's window. Dunlop drew a deep breath and waited. The evening was warm and his prowling had made him sweat. A breeze from the water cooled and soothed him. Cassie did not come out.

  'Tell us in your own words, Mr Loew, what Rennie said about the threat from Davies.'

  The trial was taking place in a different courtroom. Here witnesses sat behind a low rail and armed security officers sat slightly below and behind them. Mr Justice Hambly, looking pale and fragile, was seated slightly further away than formerly and he had to strain sometimes to hear a response. This had not helped his temper and he had clashed several times with the prosecutor, Parry. Every person in the courtroom had passed through a metal detection screen and the commencement of proceedings had been delayed, further exasperating His Honour.

  'Mr Loew?' the judge prompted. He remembered the silent exchange between them previously and was inclined to give Loew more sympathy than he would usually have extended to an informer.

  But Kerry Loew had not even heard the question. As Professor Hollows had determined, his vision was excellent and each eye was as good as the other. The patch over the right eye didn't stop him seeing everything he needed to see, although he was suffering from periodic headaches. He hadn't told the doctors about that. He didn't want to make any waves this close to the finishing line. He had seen Cassie in the gallery. At first, not expecting her, he wasn't sure. Only the experience of being shot at had caused him to look the audience over carefully in the first place. He answered the introductory questions easily enough. But now he was sure. It was her! Wearing shades and with a scarf over her glistening black hair. Paler than when he'd last seen her, but Cassie. His Cassie!

  Parry looked worried. 'Mr Loew?'

  The effort of switching his attention from Cassie to Simon Parry seemed to Loew like one of the hardest things he'd ever done. The deal, he thought. Got to stick to the deal. 'Yeah. Phil said Fats was cleaning up and that he was off.'

  'Mr Parry?' The judge was leaning forward. 'Did I hear correctly? I'm at a loss, and I doubt that the jury is any the wiser.'

  'What does it mean when a person says that he is "off", Mr Loew?'

  'It means he's dead, or as good as.'

  'But Mr Rennie was in custody.'

  Loew stared out at her. Nobody else in the court seemed aware of her presence. Blue dress, brown jacket. Scarf. Is she looking at me? What's she thinking? Take off the shades, Cassie. Please take them off!

  Parry's voice was insistent, more impatient than the judge had been. 'Mr Loew?'

  Loew forced himself to look away from the gallery and in doing so he locked eyes with Fats Davies. The obese union official was sitting more comfortably in a bigger chair. He wore a benign, tolerant air but he was staring at Loew as if trying to induce in him a failure of nerve. Then Davies' head moved slightly and Loew panicked. He mustn't see Cassie.

  'If you think it's a safe place, Long Bay, you're wrong,' Loew said. 'For some guys the trick is not doing the time, it's staying alive. It's not getting raped, not getting the shit beaten out of you.'

  'Rennie believed that Mr Davies was threatening his life, even though he was in custody. He said so specifically?'

  'M'lord,' Carstairs said. 'I must object. Counsel is leading the witness into hearsay upon hearsay upon hearsay . . .'

  'A little leeway is acceptable, Mr Carstairs,' the judge said. 'Allowing for . . . cultural difference. But I think we have the flavour of the evidence, Mr Parry. Is there a great deal more?'

  'No, m'lord. Could you answer the question, Mr Loew?'

  Loew focussed his single eye on Davies. The fat man gazed up at him, apparently unconcerned now. Spencer fidgeted nervously and seemed to be drawing away physically from him. 'Fats could get you killed in there, no risk. He could do for me today if I wasn't protected. He's done it before and . . .'

  Carstairs threw a pencil down on the desk in front of him. 'M'lord . . .'

  'Mr Parry, I must instruct you not to lead the witness into . . . melodramatic speculations.'

  Loew took a drink of water. He looked at Davies for a while longer, then at Parry as he answered a few more questions. He heard a fatigued sigh from the judge. A pain began to build in his head. He risked a glance into the gallery. Cassie had gone.

  14

  'Talk about a beautiful rollover. He was great,' Kimonides chortled. 'Faded a bit towards the end, but great. The jury believes him. What did I tell you about the eye patch?'

  'Don't get yourself in a lather,' Dunlop said. 'You might not be so happy with him in a few minutes' time.'

  They were in the interview room. Because of the change of courtroom, it would take a little longer for Loew to be escorted there. Dunlop had asked Kimonides to be present and the policeman had agreed. He judged it was time to give Loew some of the details of what had been arranged for him as an incentive for a final good performance when he was cross-examined by Carstairs. Kimonides lit a cigarette with a gold lighter. He wore a gold wedding ring and gold watch.

  Probably a neck chain as well, Dunlop thought. 'He's quit smoking,' he said. 'Might be better if you didn't smoke, Inspector.'

  Kimonides seemed about to protest but he shrugged, took a long drag and stubbed the cigarette out. 'You think I should swallow the butt?'

  'Suit yourself.' Dunlop was on edge. So far, things had gone to plan. No-one had recognised Cassie in the courtroom except Loew and he'd kept himself well in check. But what was coming up was tricky and he was going to have to perform well.

  Kimonides said, 'He can't complain. The bitch was there, wasn't she? Close enough for him to see what he hasn't had yet. She's a fucking good-looker, I'll say that. Must've made a bundle when she was a pro.'

  Dunlop didn't respond.

  Kimonides laughed, felt for his cigarettes, then remembered. 'Anyway, has to be better than his last time in court, eh? You don't think he's going to clam up?'

  'I don't know.'

  'Nah,' Kimonides said. 'Not this close, not even a dumb bastard like him is that dumb.'

  The door opened and Loew entered warily. The two guards came in with him and waited to be dismissed. Dunlop allowed Kimonides to do this. He nodded at Loew instead. Loew's expression was hard to read with the covered eye, but he showed no obvious disappointment at not seeing Cassie, nor at seeing Dunlop and Kimonides together. He moved quickly to the third chair and sat down.

  'It was the best I could do, Kerry,' Dunlop said. 'They wouldn't let me bring her in here.'

  Loew shrugged. The action hurt his eye and he winced. He looked at a point a few centimetres above Dunlop's head.

  'How're you doing?' Kimonides said.

  Loew continued to stare at the wall. 'How does it look?'

  'You got the flowers?' Dunlop asked.

  'Yeah. "Love from Cassie". What the fuck's going on, Dunlop?'

  'She's afraid.'

  Loew put his hand up to touch the dressing under the patch. The pain was still building and he wasn't due a pill for another hour. He didn't know whether he'd be able to wait. Christ, it hurts. But I'm not going to show these cunts. He massaged the damaged eyebrow ridge gently.

  'How about that?' Kimonides said. 'A guy takes a point blank shot at you and misses completely, then you get clobbered in the gym.'

  'I was told it was a message from Fats.'

  Kimonides leaned forward. 'Could be. Well, that's why we're here. It's your last day up on Monday and I wanted to give you the good news.'

  Loew ignored him and looked at Dunlop. 'You've seen her how many times?'

  'Twice.'

  Loew didn't want to beg, not to coppers. He couldn't ask what she'd said, how she'd looked and smelled, all the things he was desperate to learn. But it was all right, it had to be. The sunglasses were to keep her anonymous. She's scared. 'And?' he said.

  'Listen to the Inspector. Your wife's heard what he's got to say. She agrees. Can I get you something? You don't look so hot. Is the eye hurting? D'you want a doctor?'

  'Fuck the doctor. Let's hear it.'

  Kimonides cleared his throat. As he did so, Dunlop switched on the miniature tape recorder in his pocket. He kept very still as Kimonides described the processes, complete with dates and places, that would transform Kerry Douglas Loew, criminal, into Arnold Crane, honest citizen.

  'Two weeks,' Cassie said. 'Jesus, can't you slow it down?'

  We're having more telephone conversations than fucks, Dunlop thought. 'No. For some reason they're speeding everything up. I wish I knew why. How is it down there?'

  'Beautiful. I can see the water through the Norfolk Island pines. I want you here.'

  'Tomorrow,' Dunlop said.

  The tape recording was like a grenade. He transferred it from shirt to trousers and back again, felt for it constantly to make sure he still had it, patted the pockets. It represented several possible solutions and about as many problems. There were ways to indicate to Burton and his masters in Canberra that the plans for Loew were insecure. The tape, or parts of it, could be used to substantiate this. A delay, possibly a long one, could be secured. But how could the existence of the tape be accounted for? Either Loew, Kimonides or himself, or possibly one of the guards, would have to be the source. At a pinch, it could be claimed the room was bugged. Very tricky.

  The tape could be leaked to connections of Davies, Spencer, Parkin or Rennie, with fatal results for Loew. But when would the hit occur and how and with what danger to others? And who among Loew's enemies was likely to be his most efficient executioner? Dunlop rejected the first option and its corollary—find some way to renew or extend Loew's sentence. With Loew alive he and Cassie would never enjoy a peaceful moment. He smiled at the thought. They hadn't had one yet.

  Dunlop had parked in the Domain by the Boy Charlton swimming pool and walked through the gardens to the court. Now he sat in the car with the window down having used the mobile phone to call Cassie in Coledale. The afternoon was warm; the pool was filling up with serious lappers as office work for the day finished. People strolled along the path and sat under the trees. A party of Japanese tourists snapped photographs of the big, grey naval vessel at Woolloomooloo dock. Dunlop envied them all, envied their normal occupations, their mundane problems.

  He was startled by a rap on the car roof. Kimonides' face appeared at window level. 'You shot through pretty quick. Got something on?'

  The tape recorder was like a hot coal in his pocket. Have to get rid of it soon. 'No. Feeling a bit crook. Needed the air.'

  Kimonides straightened up, grunting with the effort of moving his excess weight. 'Good spot, this. I'm parked down a bit. Feel like a drink?'

  Dunlop shook his head. Kimonides shrugged and walked on. Dunlop watched him get into a silver Commodore and drive away. From force of habit he memorised the registration number. It occurred to him that Kimonides had probably done the same. Had he been followed? Was a communications scanner being deployed? His hand shook as he started the motor. He needed a drink.

  Loew swallowed three Panadol tablets on the sly as well as taking the prescribed analgesic. His head was thundering. He lay on his bed and waited for the pain-killers to kick in. He wanted to work up a sweat in the gym, pound the bag, feel the flow of blood through his body, but the doctors had told him to wait. An exercise addict, he was suffering withdrawal pangs as well as his physical pains and mental anguish. Two days before an inmate had offered him a cigarette and he'd accepted. Now he was back on them. A packet a day. He lit one and lay back, letting the smoke drift up and hang in the warm, still air. I'll quit again when I get out. But I need them for now.

  Well, it wasn't going to be the way he'd hoped. No going off into the sunset with Cassie on his arm. But, now that he faced it squarely, that had always been a dream. She was a TV star; she wasn't going to turn into a suburban housewife. And, to be honest, he wouldn't want that. He lit another cigarette from the stub. Too many, but what the hell. The pain's still there! After many years in prison, he'd learned to handle things in order. It was time to think straight. Monday. That bastard Carstairs, trying to trip him up. A bit of a worry, especially with the head pain. He'd had to fight hard today to keep things straight. He reviewed the evidence he'd given. Pretty simple. Shouldn't be a problem. He hadn't liked to betray the anxiety, but he'd asked Dunlop if Cassie would be there on Monday. Dunlop had said he didn't know.

 

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