Wyatt freed his. 38 from his belt. The men wore boilersuits and stocking masks and everything about them looked well-oiled and effortless. One man stepped up to the boot lid of the Camira and jemmied it open. The other stood outside the drivers door in a shooters stance, aiming a big. 45 through the glass at Wyatts head. The intention was plain: stay put.
Wyatt didnt want to risk a shot. If he fired through the door the slug would lose itself or be deflected by the lock and window mechanisms. To shoot through the glass hed have to raise his gun arm, but a movement like that would invite a bullet to the brain.
So he shifted into first and planted his foot. The Camira leapt forward and the front tyres hit the low concrete barrier separating the parking strip from the hockey field. One tyre climbed the barrier, slewing the Camira a few degrees to the right. There was a yelp as the flank of the car slammed into the man with the gun, knocking him to the ground. The rear tyres were spinning, looking for purchase in the gravel. Wyatt kept his foot planted. Slowly the other tyre mounted the barrier and the front of the Camira was over. Wyatt heard the bottom of the sump tear away. He wouldnt get far with a seized engine.
Far enough was all he wanted.
He looked back as the back wheels climbed the barrier. The first man reached a hand into the boot, neatly plucking out the strongbox as the Camira finally surged free of the barrier. There was now a squat blue-metal automatic in the mans other hand. Wyatt half turned with his own gun. For a moment the two men locked eyes. A kind of signal passed from the man with the strongbox to Wyatt: I will shoot you from here in the time it takes you to swing around on me. Just go. Then he turned away from the car, straddled the man on the ground, and shot him in the head.
Wyatts jaws snapped as the rear tyres bit in and the Camira accelerated. The distance from the concrete barrier to the white, single rail fence around the hockey field was six metres. He felt a hesitation as the radiator grill tore free a section of the rail. The impact was enough to swing the car to the left. Before Wyatt could correct with the steering wheel, the Camira ploughed into a massive turf roller. The machine was stationary, gathering rust, but it was as big as a boat and heavy enough to flatten kinks in the earth. Wyatt jerked in his seatbelt, the back of his head flipping against the whiplash support.
The engine cut out. Wyatt wasnt going anywhere in the Camira now. He got out. Exactly two minutes had passed and it had been two minutes of screams and gunfire, yet the only witnesses were a groundsman on a tractor far away and a clump of cyclists on the ring road. The cyclists slowed, saw that Wyatt was all right, and sped away again.
But somebody would be calling the university security patrol soon. The groundsman would want to know why someone was churning up the field he was paid to keep close-cropped and flat. Wyatt figured that he had about one minute to get out.
He started to move. The black Range Rover was pulling away, leaving plenty of rubber behind. In the drivers seat of the Commodore, Phelps was waking up, rolling his head on his neck.
He was Wyatts ticket out. Wyatt began to run.
But a look of panic twisted the big mans face. He fumbled, started the engine, backed out. Wyatt reached the car, beat uselessly on the side panel, fell back as Phelps accelerated away from him.
All he could do now was get an answer to a question. He knelt. The man on the ground was dead, blood seeping from a wound in the temple. Footsteps sounded behind Wyatt. Using his body as a shield, he peeled off the mans stocking and pocketed it.
What happened?
Wyatt stood, pushing his hair back from his forehead and hooking the black-rimmed glasses on his face again. He turned. Four or five students. Loading distress into his voice he said, It was terrible. Hit and run. This man was knocked down and I was run off the road. They just took off like animals.
Animals, someone said.
Anyone get the number?
We should get an ambulance.
He looks bad. Anyone here know first aid?
Youre not supposed to move them.
Anyone a med student?
They were dealing with it. Wyatt stepped back. Hed recognised the dead man. It was a face from three weeks ago, on the Victorian/South Australian border. Mostyn, who worked for Stolle. Meaning Stolle had the money now. Stolle and Anna Reid.