Fay went straight to work. She slipped the jacket from her shoulders and marched up to Sione, all ‘teeth and tits’ as Mike Carlton said of Rose Hancock.
‘Why, Sione, what’re you doing here?’
She distracted him just long enough. Montefiore was right behind her, but he didn’t go into his kick-boxing routine. He reached into the overnight bag and took out a pistol which he pointed at the bridge of the Polynesian’s wide nose.
‘Want something, cunt?’
‘You.’
‘Not this time.’
Montefiore had had the time and space to get nicely balanced and sighted. He feinted with his left and Sione’s eyes followed it just long enough for Montefiore to crack him across the temple with the solid weight of the pistol. He caught him sweetly and the big man went down in a heap. Montefiore kicked him viciously in the ribs and he didn’t move. He swung his foot back again but I stopped him.
‘That’ll do it. A cracked rib can puncture something else and you’re up for murder. Let’s get on with it.’
Fay was ahead of me. She dashed up the steps, worked her key and was into the flat in seconds. Montefiore followed and I stayed with Sione after making sure he had a strong pulse. There were only two other flats in the block and no activity around as the night got going. It wasn’t a place where old folks sat around watching what went on.
It seemed longer, but it was probably only a couple of minutes until they came down the steps. Fay was wearing jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers and carrying a bag, and somehow she seemed all the more formidable without the glitz.
‘I’m burning my bridges here, Cliffy’ she said. ‘You better have that fuckin’ money’
‘He’s got it,’ Montefiore said. He was suddenly very confident and almost relaxed, carrying his bag in one hand and the pistol in the other. I had both hands free and I’d never have a better chance. I moved quickly, gripped the gun hand and twisted hard and down, slamming his fingers against the metal of the steps. The gun fell away and I grabbed it after one bounce. A Smith amp; Wesson. 38 revolver. Good gun, knew it well. Oiled and loaded.
‘You dumb fuck!’ Fay shouted.
‘Shut up! This can all go down okay for you, but I’ll be buggered if it’s going to happen with this thing floating around. Get him in the car. We’ll drive to the dock. You’ll get your money and I’ll take it from there.’
Montefiore hated losing face in front of her but I hoped he could tell I’d use the gun if I had to. He gave it a few beats and I sweated.
‘She can run you, Jay, if you like,’ I said. ‘But she’s not going to run this whole bloody thing.’
‘Fuck you,’ Fay said.
I patted the money belt. I was sure Montefiore knew about it and that he’d told her while they were whispering in the back seat. I held the pistol steady. ‘Jay?’
‘You win, Hardy.’
‘Keep it cool and we all win. I’ll stick to the deal. Get him to the car and you can drive, Fay.’
She said something uncomplimentary I couldn’t quite catch, but that’s how it worked. We manhandled the unconscious Polynesian into the car. Fay, tightly strung, drove with me beside her and Montefiore and Sione in the back. She drove well and we were at the marina in quick time. I told Montefiore to fetch Penny.
‘He wants his money too. Fay stays here.’
‘Smart bastard, aren’t you?’ Fay said as Montefiore walked away with a bit of a limp.
‘Fay,’ I said, ‘I hate to think how differently you would’ve choreographed this.’
She smiled her showgirl smile. ‘You’re right. Very duffrent.’
There was a certain amount of activity going on at the marina but nothing about what we were doing would attract attention. Penny and Montefiore returned and I got out of the car keeping the pistol held low.
‘I told you to be careful,’ Penny said. ‘I told you he looked like a goer.’
Fay climbed out and stood beside Montefiore. ‘You still haven’t got the photo.’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Let’s be sensible about this. You want your money and I want the photo and to go in peace.’
‘You wouldn’t shoot here,’ Montefiore said.
‘Right. So do I just chuck it in the water?’
‘Shit, no,’ Montefiore yelped.
‘Might not be a bad idea,’ Penny said.
‘Shut the fuck up, you two,’ Fay said. ‘I think he’s trying to play it straight.’
I undid my shirt and lifted the flaps on several of the pockets of the money belt. I’d taken the precaution of putting precise amounts together in the compartments so I knew how much was where. I fished out the equivalent of four thousand and laid it on the bonnet of the car. ‘That’s yours, Reg. Nine all up.’
‘You said ten.’
‘There’s a deduction for cooking up some scheme with Jay here to take me down.’
Penny shrugged and grabbed the money. I focused on Fay, who’d lit a cigarette. ‘Photo.’
She produced it from the hip pocket of her jeans and smoothed it between her fingers.
‘Show me.’
She held it up so that it caught the light. I could see a clear male image against a light background. ‘Okay. What about twenty for you for the photo and the name and you walk away from these pricks here and now?’
I heard Montefiore gasp and Penny give a low, emphysemic chuckle.
Fay dropped her cigarette and stood on it. ‘No.’
‘Fair enough. Fifteen for the photo and twenty-five for the name and the other info in Sydney’
‘What’s this?’ Penny said.
‘Shut up.’ Fay slid the Polaroid across the bonnet and I did the same with the bundles of notes. She scooped them up and handed them to Montefiore.
‘We’re almost there,’ I said, putting the photo in my shirt pocket. ‘Got the boat ready, Reg?’
Penny nodded.
I gestured for them to move away and they obeyed, even though they knew I wouldn’t use the gun. Guns are like that.
It was airless and warm down there in the port, and with the activity around the marina diminishing, our cluster would soon look noticeable. I was tired and stressed and sweating and wouldn’t be able to keep this level of concentration up much longer. Also, I didn’t know how close Sione might be to regaining consciousness.
I opened the driver’s door and made sure Fay hadn’t palmed the ignition keys. Sione hadn’t moved. I nodded to Fay.
Best I could do. Dry-mouthed I said, ‘See you in Sydney.’
‘The gun,’ Montefiore said.
I opened the cylinder, spilled the shells into my hand and tossed them to Penny. I flipped the pistol towards Montefiore and didn’t care whether either of them made catches or not. I started the engine and drove slowly away.
There really wasn’t much to think about. I drove to the hotel, parked as close to reception as I could and brought one of the flunkeys out to attend to Sione. While they were moving him and fussing about, I shifted the car. I raced up to my room, phoned the airport and was able to get on a plane leaving for Fiji in an hour and a half. I packed and quit the place with my bag slung over my shoulder, using the side steps, keeping out of sight. I figured Pascal Rivages could shout me a couple of breakfasts and a dinner.
The run to the airport was smooth at that time of night and I made it in forty-five minutes. I explained that I had to get to Fiji quickly and that my travel insurance would take care of the forfeited Noumea-Sydney flight. They looked me over fairly carefully and I sweated a bit, wondering how far Rivages’ influence ran. Not far enough evidently, or he hadn’t been put in the picture yet, because I caught the plane with a couple of minutes to spare.
The plane was half full and I had an empty seat next to me. My shirt was a damp rag and my feet hurt. The money belt itched. I took it off and stuffed it in my bag. I took my shoes off and spread myself, trying to relax after the high-adrenaline couple of hours I’d been through. I didn’t think about Lorraine or Stewart Master, just about getting myself levelled out. It was a no-frills flight, no free French plonk this time. I made do with a couple of furtive, nerve-calming nips from the scotch in my cabin luggage.
I got out the Maugham stories and settled into a couple of my favourites-’Red’ and ‘The Fall of Edward Barnard’. Below me the mighty Pacific ocean was a blank stretch of nothing and when I’d calmed down I wondered how Jay and Fay and Reg were getting along out there on the good ship You Beaut.