The Watsons Bay dead end didn't depress me. Felicity had said it did her some good and the same was true for me. I'd enjoyed her company and her resilience struck a positive note with me. Too many of the people I've dealt with professionally have been diminished by their experiences. Felicity was a refreshing change. Money helps.
I had a quiet night and slept well. I woke up stiff, but forced myself to go to the gym. As often happens, I felt better once I started. I put in a solid workout and after a splash around in the spa I felt good. Good enough to face a solid breakfast at the Bar Napoli and shoot the breeze with the barista and some customers. As usual, it was sport and politics, although they're increasingly coming to look much the same.
The Balmain Tigers were offering a hundred grand commission to anyone who could find them a major sponsor. 'How about you, Mario?' a customer shouted, holding up the headline at the owner who'd drifted in as he did at whatever time pleased him.
'Ugly game. Nessunagrazia, nessuna competenza.'
I looked at Fortunato, known as Lucky, by the coffee machine. He shrugged. 'Means no grace, no skill.'
Not the place to argue with that. They went on to discuss the axing of the annual Norton Street Italian Festival by the local council. Not enough sponsors. It was something Lily and I had enjoyed. I missed her and I'll miss it.
I drove home feeling clear-headed, but without any fresh ideas about locating Richard Malouf. As it turned out I didn't need any. My mobile was ringing when I got through the door. I answered it.
'Hardy.'
'Mr Hardy, this is Richard Malouf.'
My hand tightened around the phone. ' Yes? Go on.'
'You'd be sceptical, naturally. You don't recognise my voice?'
'I only spoke to Malouf a couple of times. I don't remember anything about his voice.'
He went on to describe our meetings in Perry Hassan's office in precise detail, down to what we talked about. It was hard to see how anyone else could have had that information, but I wasn't buying it just yet. I asked a series of questions based on things Rosemary had told me and drew on some of the things Gretchen had said. I threw in a curly one about Felicity Pargetter and he fielded it neatly.
'OK,' I said. 'Suppose I believe you, what's the purpose of this call?'
'You've gone to a lot of trouble to find me. I'm impressed by your efforts. I thought you might want confirmation of my existence.'
'You're talking to yourself. If you're Malouf you're a target for people much more dangerous than-'
'Oh, I know that only too well. That's why I need your help. I siphoned off quite a bit of your money. It was only an exercise in proving to myself and others that it could be done, but still I can understand that you'd want it back. I can give you the precise figure if you like.'
I was convinced now. I remembered Malouf's cocky, self-satisfied manner more than his voice.
'So you're sitting somewhere on your boat tapping the keys with everything at your fingertips, is that right? I want the money back, sure, but there're two people dead and a few others very distressed and it all stems from you. You're the shit that hit the fan, or the fan itself, I'm not sure which.'
He laughed, still pleased with himself. 'Very graphic. I admit we've got a tangle here, but in my experience tangles can be… untangled. I think there's a way to do that.'
'Get you off the hook for killing the man who was identified as you?'
'Certainly. I admit I gave Selim the idea of pressuring Rosemary, but the detail's not important. That's not what I mean. I'm talking about a deal with the police to… absolve me of my…'
'Massive embezzlements.'
'If you want to put it that way, but believe me there's something very much bigger behind all this. Something global that would be of concern to every level of government in this country.'
Big talk, and probably rehearsed, but the trouble was he sounded as if he knew what he was talking about and I had just enough information to put flesh on the bones of what he was saying. I needed more, though.
I said, 'You've set up something big, got the ducks in a line, why not just run with it?'
No answer. I waited. 'Malouf?'
'Ah, good, you believe I'm who I say I am.'
'Fuck you. From everything I've heard, you're a lying, egotistical arsehole, so, yes, you've convinced me.'
I heard a sigh. 'Run with it, you say. I've been running with it. You can't imagine how hard I've worked. I'm tired.'
'You've done the dirty on Wong and Houli. You thought you could get away with that but now you have your doubts. I'm inclined to let you stew in your own juice.'
'That won't help you get your money back or stop your city from turning… cancerous.'
'What d'you mean?'
'That's the point-what do I mean? Talk to your principals. Talk to Inspector Chang and Sergeant Ali, talk to May Ling, but I'll tell you this-if Wong and Houli don't get a result soon they're going to feel some pressure and they'll destroy everyone in sight. I mean you, Standish, May Ling, Gretchen, Rosemary, Felicity, everyone! I'll be in touch.'
I didn't have the equipment set up to record phone calls any longer-I'd dismantled it some time after losing my PEA licence. I missed it now. I scribbled down as much as I could remember of what Malouf had said and wished I'd put some more questions to him. One would have been-how do you know so much about what I and others've been doing? There are ways of course, electronic methods, and it looked as though Malouf would be well up to speed on those, but the best method is to have someone on the inside keeping you informed.
I made a list of all the people Malouf had called my principals and scribbled notes beside the names-dates, brief details of character, attributes, meetings, likely motives. I had a lot of questions: were Chang and Ali all they appeared to be? Were Standish and May Ling consummate actors, playing both sides against the middle? What about Yusef Talat and Lester Wong? Could they be double-crossing their bosses? I didn't feel confident of these suspicions-too many gaps, too many breaks in the traffic. I looked at the list again and realised that I'd left one name off it-Richard Malouf. Maybe he wasn't sequestered on his high-tech boat; maybe he was out and about, monitoring all our activities. It was a thought, but I couldn't decide whether it was alarming or encouraging.
I needed an ally, someone to bounce ideas off and suggest strategies; someone to help. In the old days I would've turned to Frank Parker but I'd got him into trouble too many times before. Hank Bachelor was out; Megan had made it clear I wasn't to involve him in anything sticky. I looked at my list again-Sabatini. Why not?
I emailed Sabatini, setting out most of what I'd learned recently and telling him that Malouf had spoken to me. I knew that would hook him; no journalist can resist a Lazarus story. I implied that there was more to be said, and that I needed his expertise and possibly his hands-on help. A rock climber is a risk taker by definition, and Sabatini struck me as an ambitious type who probably had his mind on bigger things. Rosemary was definitely not a widow now, but there was a question as to whether she'd been legitimately married at all. I hinted at this. If their relationship was going full steam, what was more natural than that he'd want to be involved in dealing with the man who'd put her in danger?
I got an answer just an hour later. Sabatini didn't say where they were, but he'd been thinking about the Malouf business all the time and when he'd told Rosemary about my email she'd encouraged him to go back and help. I was reading the message when my mobile rang.
'Hardy, it's-'
I cut in. 'Be careful, there's a chance someone we know could be listening.'
'Shit, all right. She's safe with friends. I'm coming back. I'll be-'
'You'll be where you say you are when you get there.' 'OK.'
'Thanks. Think hard, we need ideas.'
'Can you give me anything more now? More to think about?'
'Yes, what is it that you most worry about?'
'Jesus, that's no help.'
'I know,' I said. 'Hurry back.'