They had been waiting for him on Sunday night. Intercom system, security locks, first floor apartment with alarms and barred windows and balcony, and they were in his lounge room waiting for him. Lovell hadnt seen the black limo parked outside so it must have been around the back somewhere. Mr Bone, he said.
Bone was grey, long-faced, with the balding look of a sly monk or scholar. Lovell had never seen him without his charcoal grey suit and black tie and the only time hed seen the man alone was twelve months ago, when Bone had hailed his taxi and heard his story and made him an offer he couldnt refuse. At all other times Bone was with his driver, a big-jawed man who liked to bounce on his toes and keep his hands curled at his sides.
Lovell had kept a wary eye on the driver, dumped his bag in the corner and gone to the drinks cabinet. Get you something?
No thanks. But you go ahead, Bone said.
The situation had called for something with a bit of bite, like Jack Daniels. Lovell kept the neck of the bottle away from the rim of the glass, not that his hands were betraying him much.
Yet.
Hed sat opposite Bone. The driver had edged around and after a while Lovell heard the guy breathing behind him, long regular intakes and exhalations. The whisper was, it was the driver who knocked people that Bone wanted knocked. There were two that Lovell knew of, dealers whod become addicts, a big no-no as far as the organisation was concerned. I can explain, he said.
Bone picked a speck of lint off his knee and smoothed the expensive cloth. That would be a start. My partners and I, we ran a few possibilities past each other. One, your courier was arrested. Two, your courier robbed you. Three, your courier was robbed. Four, you robbed us. He looked up. Not necessarily in order of importance.
Lovell had known then that Bone had been speaking to Rice, the Drug Squad detective. It was a courier problem, he said.
And youve taken care of it?
I have.
Good. That still leaves us with a shortfall, though, doesnt it?
Ill make it up.
Of course you will. Youre obliged to, for a start, and we dont doubt your ability. The problem is, we may have lost valued customers as a result of last weekend.
Mr Bone, theyre a dime a dozen down there.
Im glad to hear it. Bone got up. Because weve started losing business to some Lebanese outfit. He showed some emotion. Quite mad. Kill their own mothers if there was a dollar in it.
Its not my fault what happens at street level.
It is if you cant fill orders and we lose buyers as a consequence.
Ill get you your cash.
Bone and the driver were at the door now. Bone said, Thats not the point. What this organisation depends on is regular cash from regular clients. He paused. And your New Guinea trips? Everything clockwork there?
Lovell swallowed. Of course.
Bone had smiled. Fine, Ian. Well speak again. You have forty-eight hours.
They had left Lovell with a headache like a steel band around his skull.
He slept badly. Then, at two oclock on Monday morning hed woken up thinking: Why not a second loan?
Banking hours were ten till four, but Lovell got to the TrustBank in Logan City at nine-twenty-six. Catch Nurse while the guy was still half asleep and easily persuaded. If Nurse needed extra persuasion, Lovell had it, his. 22 target pistol, the shape cold and sculptured like some sort of ray gun.
He rapped his knuckles on the glass.
A minute later, when nothing happened, he rapped again. A minute after that he wondered if maybe it was a public holiday. In his line of work, public holidays didnt mean much. No, all the shops were open. The post office was open. Bank staff worked nine to five; they had to be in mere, thirty minutes to opening time, having coffee, putting cash in the tills. So why were the blinds still closed? How come the place looked so shut up?
Lovell had gone around to the rear of the building. There was Nurses silver Volvo. The boot lid was up. The back door was propped open.
So the bastards were there. They just werent answering the front door. All right, in through the back.
And now the doorway was darkening and a man wearing a suit was coming through it, moving fast. A box thudded into the boot of the Volvo; the car shook with the weight of it.
The thing was, the bloke had a balaclava over his head. Lovell blinked. If this was a snatch, that was his cash they were taking.