Wyatt - 06 - The Fallout (5 page)

Heneker shrugged. Wyatt? Was that
his name? Cant say I know it.

Gosse said, Lets go back to the
phone call. What did the caller say?

Wyatt? He

Not necessarily Wyatt, Montgomery
said. There could be others.

Gosse threw down his pen again.
Henekers eyes opened wide. You mean theres a gang?

Just tell us what the caller said.

He said straight out that he had
the Asahi Collection.

And?

Well, naturally my ears pricked up.
I mean, there was hell to pay when those stones got lifted. Phone calls from
Japan all hours of the night and day. Quiet word from the Japanese consul. You
name it, I had to take it.

Your company wanted the stones
back.

Sure.

You told the caller that youd meet
him?

Yep.

Did you suggest the parking
station?

Heneker was getting agitated. He
did. You know all this.

So youd never seen this man
before?

Never. I told you that.

Liz leaned forward. What did he
say?

Wasnt much of a talker.

She knew the truth of that. Shed
spent seven days with Wyatt and in that time had learnt almost nothing about
him. His
body
had told her things, communicating desire, even affection
and regard, and hed relaxed enough to smile readily, if tiredly, but he had no
small talk and he imparted no secrets, even though he was full of secrets.
Timea lot of it-might have helped. Time, and stepping over the line. What
would it be like, leading his risky life with him? Would he have stepped over
the line for her? Shed never know now.

He must have said something to you.
Didnt he offer proof that he had the stones, for example? Didnt he ask how
much the reward would be?

Nope.

Gosse snarled, He was observed
handing you something, Mr Heneker.

Heneker shifted in his chair. He
reached inside his coat pocket. All right, all right, he gave me this.

A necklace spilled onto the table.
For a moment they were silent in the face of the soft glow, the winking hard
stones.

Liz said, Youre not a trustworthy
man, are you, Mr Heneker? Do your superiors know that?

I get results.

What were you going to do with the
necklace? Sell it?

Montgomery looked pained. Mr
Heneker is not suspected or accused of anything, Sergeant Redding. What we have
to focus on is this man Wyatt.

Yes, sir.

Gosse leaned forward. Did he have
the other pieces with him?

Heneker shook his head. Didnt see
them.

Did he tell you where you could
find them?

Nope.

You didnt warn him?

Inspector Gosse, Montgomery began.
Mr Heneker is

Gosse ignored him. You didnt
arrange to meet this man later?

Heneker was outraged. What do you
take me for? You called and said he might contact me. He did, so I let you
know. Ive done my bit. If a dozen of you are not capable of catching one man,
then thats your problem, not mine.

All right, all right, Mr Heneker. Im
sure Inspector Gosse doesnt mean any offence. Is there anything else you can
tell us about the man? He didnt say where he was staying? Didnt give you a
number to call? Didnt mention any names. Nothing like that?

Not a thing.

Then you may go.

What about the necklace?

Well need to hang on to it for the
time being, Gosse said, pending further investigation.

Heneker shuffled out, scowling,
putting plenty of outrage into the tilt of his head. Heneker smelt wrong. Liz
didnt know how, but knew that hed held something back, some fiddle.

She was lost to these thoughts and
didnt register the hard stares of Gosse and even Montgomery until it was too
late. Gosse said, Nice tan, Liz.

Liz stiffened. Here it comes, she
thought.

So, you decided to go to Vanuatu
and arrest Inspector Springett.

Yes.

Yes,
sir,
Gosse said.

Liz shrugged.

An unauthorised trip to a country
over which the Victoria Police have no jurisdiction. You came back with
Springett and this man Wyatt, only Springett drowned in yesterdays storm and
Wyatt gave you the slip, the Asahi jewels in his pocket. Correct, so far?

Sir, you have to take into account

I hope to God the press dont get
wind of this, Sergeant, said Montgomery. Theyd have a field day.

Gosse said irritably, Sergeant, you
can understand that we have a problem with your story. The jewels. Your
relationship with this Wyatt character, Springetts convenient death.

Liz struggled against the fog in her
head. There was a blowfly buzzing against the glass above the chair in which
Heneker had been sitting. Why had Wyatt thought it necessary to drug her? Why
had he run? Such contempt and calculation after their seven days together. She
felt incomplete and grubby, as if shed had no say at all in their . . .
encounter. As if hed had all the power. And hed had the Asahi jewels all
along.

She felt muddled and dreamy.
Montgomery and Gosse talked around her, talked about charging her, pending
suspension and an inquiry. Liz let them talk.

Shed been seven days on the open
sea in the stolen yacht before she saw the change in Wyatt. It had happened as
they neared the eastern seaboard. Shed been expecting it. He was a hold-up
man, after all. Their days together in the briny air and mild sun were simply a
respite from the running that was mostly his life and the hunting that was
mostly hers. Then the first land birds and rusty coastal freighters had
appeared to remind her that she had a job to do, just as she supposed Wyatt was
reminded that he had a fortune in jewels in his possession and a cop for a
travelling companion.

God, was it only yesterday
afternoon? She remembered that he had checked the compass bearing, referred to
the chart, made a slight adjustment to the wheel. Rough seas had been forecast,
and for Liz that was the precipitating factor.

Shed stood at his elbow, staring
down at the chart, then used her finger to trace the coastline of Victoria from
Wilsons Promontory to the rip at Port Philip Heads, and up into the bay toward
Port Melbourne. How big a storm? shed asked.

I wouldnt want to be tossing about
in it.

So what do we do?

Put in somewhere until it blows
over.

Where?

She loved his hands. Wyatt had
pointed with a finger as slender and worn as a twig weathered by the wind and
the rain. Westernport marina at Hastings. We can be moored there by about four
oclock in the morning.

Liz remembered saying, to gauge his
reaction: I could call CIB detectives to come down and collect us in Hastings.
No need to wait for the storm to blow itself out.

Wyatt had said nothing, his face
settling into an impassivity that he wore like a familiar shoe. He could not be
read, and that annoyed her.

Wyatt? We have to talk about this.

But he stared out at the sea, sombre
and cryptic, a hard alertness under it. Impatiently she said, Do you want to
spend the rest of your life running and hiding? Ill bring you in. I doubt if
youll do any gaol time.

She squirmed now, remembering this.
He must have thought her either naive or devious. But shed gone on, pestering,
cajoling. Your testimony will help me clear everything up.

I had nothing to do with Springett
or his operation.

Not directly, maybe, but

So I cant help you.

You mean you wont help me.

I wont help you put me in gaol,
certainly.

A wave had heaved out of nowhere and
they breasted it, tilted, hung there in space, and returned with a crash to the
horizontal. Liz had felt her teeth snap together. Wyatt fought the wheel until
they were pitching and butting through the surface chop again. They could see
coastal towns in the muted light of the approaching dusk. Darkness fell rapidly
after that; the sea grew rougher; their running lights burned in the seaspray.

Then the yacht yawed violently. When
it was stable, Wyatt said, Youd better release Springett or the cuffs will
break his wrist. Also he could be useful to us up here.

She had done that, and Springett had
stepped on deck and straight into a foaming wave that washed over the bow and
took him with it. Shed been sad and appalled. Wyatt had registered no emotion
at all and, once hed found calmer waters in Westernport Bay, had gone below
and laced her coffee with Mogadon.

Did you hear me, Sergeant Redding?
Your suspension will take effect from Friday. In the meantime I want you
available for further questioning.

Liz blinked out of her daze. Yes,
sir.

They all left the room. Outside, in
the corridor, cleaners had been splashing disinfectant around. Shoe-black
streaked the floor and the bottoms of the walls. Lizs head felt heavy, heavy.
Before she could stop herself, she veered toward Montgomery. Their shoulders
touched. They sprang apart.

Go home and rest, Sergeant.

Liz made him stop and face her, in
this building that was never still, phones ringing, doors opening and closing. But
I stopped Springett, sir. I arrested him. A bent policeman, a senior officer.
Surely that counts for something?

Gosse was hovering behind them. He
shoved forward. Sergeant, if we had the jewels, if we had Wyatt, we might be
inclined to go along with your story.

He shrugged. As things stand now,
youre history.

* * * *

Seven

Steers
jaw dropped. Pentridge?

Yep.

How come?

Because youre a piece of shit, the
Correctional Services officer said.

They were waiting at a reception
window in the new, privately operated remand centre in Sunshine. Steer had been
remanded on a charge of aggravated burglary, bail denied, and as he understood
it you got sent to one of the remand centres pending trial, so why was the
system stuffing him around today, turning him away, sending him to Pentridge
prison?

Youre joking, right?

Someone came through from an inner
room with a form on a clipboard. The Correctional Services officer signed it
and turned to escort Steer out to the police van again. Steer said, I mean,
how come? Tell me youre joking. Im on remand, mate. I havent been to trial
yet.

The officer said wearily, Can it,
okay? The paperwork says Anthony Steer, remanded to Pentridge.

But its a fucking gaol, mate. Its
full of blokes thatd slit your throat because they only got one egg for
breakfast.

Youve done time before. You can
handle it.

Steer could handle it. The problem
was, Denise and Chaffey were lining someone up to spring him out of
remand.
Escaping
from Pentridge was a whole other ballgame. Hed have to get Chaffey to do some
fancy footwork with Correctional Services, slip someone a few bucks to alter
the paperwork.

They bundled Steer into the rear of
the police van. Steel floor, walls and ceiling, tiny reinforced glass window,
plenty of steel separating him from the driver and the drivers offsider. He
was the only prisoner. He heard the bolt slide home on the door of the van. He
heard the Correctional Services officer tell the driver, Remands full. Theyve
got room for him in Pentridge.

Doesnt make sense, the driver
said. Youve got remanded guys in Pentridge and sentenced guys in remand.
Doesnt make sense.

Tell it to the Minister.

The van braked and spurted fitfully
through the western suburbs of the city. At Pentridge, in Coburg, the world
seemed to darken, all light and goodness swallowed up by the bluestone walls.
They were waved through. Steers escort parked the van against an inside wall
and disappeared for an hour. Steer grew jumpy in his metal tomb. When the doors
of the van were finally opened, he said, Morning tea, right? Your boss know
you boys bludge on the job?

Shut it, arsehole.

They took Steer in to be admitted. A
prison officer said, Name?

The driver of the van checked a
sheaf of papers in his fist. Steer, first name Anthony.

Anthony,
wacky do, the prison officer said,
ticking something. Right, hes ours now.

Steer watched his escort walk back
across the industrial-grade carpet and out through the door to the van. He
swung back to the prison officer. Look, I shouldnt be here. I should be in
remand.

Every remand centre in the city is
full, pal. Thats why youre being remanded here, in D Division.

Thats better than H Division,
right?

Steer had spent gaol time in Long
Bay, Beechworth, Ararat and Yatala. But he knew all about Pentridge. H Division
was high security. It held killers, gunmen, escapers, men with a history of
violence toward the prison guards, let alone other prisoners. Some inmates were
handcuffed whenever they left their cells, even to have a shower. Others were
kept in separation for months at a time, with only two hours out of the cell
each day.