FINDING THE RIGHT house was not easy. It's true there were a million McMansions around these days, usually with a BMW or Range Rover in the garage, but most of them were mortgaged to the hilt. Cutter and his crew had learned that most of these owners didn't have a spare dollar to save their lives.
Some of the fibro houses in Cabramatta were another thing altogether. One family had thirty grand under the bed for fucksakes. Cutter couldn't believe that Mouse, one of his crew, had given up his own aunty on that one. But when he'd cut off the aunty's thumbs to help her calm herself down a little, Esterhase had had to take Mouse out the back. See, you could never figure people out. Why did he put his aunty in it in the first place?
Cutter liked the garage entry best. Kept everyone real quiet until they were all inside. You had to know the house a little: look for one with an internal entry from the garage through to the house. Good thing Esterhase did furniture deliveries for his day job – he got to see these things. Then, wait near the garage, slip in with the car when they come home, and stay quiet till the door goes down. Let them get out of the car. Then they're all yours until morning. Do anything you want, go anywhere you need to go.
Nosy neighbours could be a problem. He tried to stay away from townhouses – connecting walls. It was true they had done one townhouse, and no one had come running. But they'd had to use duct tape to keep her quiet. Cutter preferred it when there was a little screaming room. Houses that backed onto a reserve, a school, an industrial estate; those that had a high brick fence, a busy road, a pool in the yard, just a bit of space around were best.
When Esterhase showed him the house with the guns at Capitol Hill, he'd been in heaven. The Capitol Hill estate was all two- to five-acre blocks. Double brick castles. Pool houses, guest wings. Still a new development, there were vacant blocks everywhere, next to half-finished houses, skeletal in the night. He'd be back for this place. Shit. Maybe he'd do another two here.
Almost time. Cutter couldn't wait.
Esterhase waited in the dark near the garage. The target rarely got home before one a.m. Owned some factory where they worked through the night.
Cutter sat in the van. The rest of the crew sat with him in their balaclavas, wishing Cutter would put his mask on too. They looked everywhere but at him.
Cutter stared out the window of the van into the night, grinning, rocking backwards and forwards in his seat. He kept his hands pressed down tightly into his lap.