Black Ice (24 page)

It could, Seren, she told herself, just be this wannabe's change of clothes for the night. He might just be Christian's client.

But there was something about the way Christian had introduced them, about the importance he'd placed on meeting this guy in the lobby, about the tension she perceived emanating from Christian's body.

Another thought occurred to her as they walked down the quiet fluorescent hallway past closed doors on the way to Christian's office. If this was a major drug deal, why would he do it in front of her? But then again, why not? she answered herself. She'd seen him do plenty of deals; he trusted her. And even if he didn't, who was she to threaten him? He was Christian Worthington. She was a parolee.

A parolee with a digital camera.

Seren prayed tonight would be the night.

Byron didn't know what the chick was doing here.

Well, he got it that Worthington wouldn't want this one getting too far away from him on a Saturday night. Just on the way round the block out the front he'd seen two SL600s and a new Bentley. That was 1.5 mil right there. Plenty of money out there to snatch a girl like this right out from under a prick's nose. But surely Christian would make her wait somewhere else while they did the deed? Bitches shouldn't be involved in business: that was Byron's motto.

He let himself fall a couple of steps behind them, imagined himself holding that arse. He smiled – he was going to be imagining that picure a fair bit, he knew, starting later tonight.

Oh shit! Byron dropped his eyes to the floor. Blondie had seen him checking her out. His cheeks flamed. Did she just
wink
at him? Nah, Byron, you silly prick, he told himself. She must have had something in her eye. That is, unless she does know what's in this bag, and wants a little taste.

Just focus on what you're doing here, Byron. One thing at a time. Kasem's waiting at Merrylands, and I've gotta bring him back eighty grand. This is the start of something big. Finally, I'm gonna get some big-time action, he thought. He was getting tired of the looking-around-hands-in-pockets-quick-swap kind of deals done in alleyways. Pockets full of sweaty twenties and wads of little plastic bags.

This is the kind of work I want to do, he told himself. Proper business deals in places like this, with people like them – he watched the backs of the gods walking before him. Byron straightened a little, and then spotted the winking blue light at the end of the corridor and dropped his eyes again.

Knowing how badly she'd regret this later – leaving with nothing – Cassie forced herself again to the office door. She had to go. Right then, Christian's voice approached from the hall outside.

Her heart jumped to her throat. With no idea why she would do such a thing, she dived into the coat cupboard at the entrance to the room. She left the door open just a crack.

She stood there in the semi-dark wardrobe, feeling like a complete idiot. At least she had a few more moments to figure out how this Saturday night was going to play out. Would she wait until Christian left, find her own way out and telephone for a bed at a detox clinic? Or, would the need to quench this anxiety just one more time see her use this cupboard to check her own coat and go out to meet Christian wearing just the boots?

At least it's good to have choices, she thought.

Saturday 13 April, 7.55 pm

Damien left the note for Whitey on his pillow and pulled the bedroom door closed. One thing he would not miss, he decided, would be the stench of this house. He made a face. When he got settled he'd have someone come and clean for him every week, and he'd make sure his place smelled great. He'd been learning about the chemical components and synthesis of scent this past semester, and he'd been thinking that he might try his hand at making perfume. There was money in that too. He smiled. He could make a signature scent just for Erin. Might not get him the same kudos as a handful of eccy, but he figured that any girl would like their own designer perfume, especially if it came delivered with a business-class trip to the UK.

'Hey, uni boy. Nice bag. Is that what the in-crowd carries around these days?'

Damien bolted for the front door, ripped it open and smacked straight into Urgill's chest. The bald man belly-charged him back into his lounge room and he tripped, falling backwards and landing spreadeagled, staring up at the ceiling.

'Where you off to tonight, uni boy?' Kasem Nader stood up from the lounge and prodded at Damien's ribs with a pointy-toed boot.

Damien just lay there.

'Not a lot of work going on around here,' Nader said. 'That's not what a business partner likes to see.' Nader stepped over Damien and walked towards the kitchen. Damien heard the front door close and saw Agassi follow Urgill into his house.

'You see, what you've got here, Damo, are a few mystery shoppers,' said Nader. 'It's a business term; not sure whether you're familiar with it. Anyway, basically, management – that would be me – sends in a couple of people to check on progress when their staff – that would be you – least expect it.' He smacked his hand down onto a large box on the counter that hadn't been there before Damien went to his room to get the necklace.

Prick must've let himself in while I had my head in the roof, Damien guessed.

'Now, I know Whitey's on his way over here,' said Nader. 'And I told Byron to get his arse back here after he makes some deliveries for us. But, you, you're the chef, Damo, and you can't just go clocking off whenever you want. There are no union hours in the drug trade, mate.' He moved back towards Damien. 'You bloody uni students. You're all left-wing unionists, I know.' He smiled widely. 'What are you still doing on your arse, you idiot?' Nader reached out a hand and Damien saw nothing else he could do but take it. Nader yanked him to his feet, and gave him a playful punch to the deltoid. He nearly hit the rug again. Fuck.

Damien rubbed his throbbing shoulder. There was obviously no way he could get out of here tonight, and the longer he stayed in Australia, the closer he was coming to copping formal charges. He didn't know what would happen then about travelling. Could they automatically stop him at the airport when he tried to buy a ticket? He didn't know how these things worked.

'So where were you going anyway, Damo?' Nader wanted to know.

'Just to get something to eat,' he said, his voice reedy and high-pitched. I sound like I've just been castrated, he thought. He stared morosely at the thugs who shared his lounge room and figured he pretty much had been. 'You scared the fuck out of me. I didn't know who you were, sitting there.'

'Yeah? You don't need to be scared of me, Damo.' Nader turned to Urgill. 'Go get some food,' he said. 'What do you want, Damien? Chinese? KFC? What about Lebo?'

'Whatever,' said Damien. As if he'd be able to eat anything. What the hell would happen with the listening device now? Would this mean the cops would say he hadn't cooperated? They couldn't! Detective Jackson said she'd make sure Kasem Nader wouldn't come over here tonight. Great job there.

'What's that?' Damien asked, walking towards the kitchen and the box that took up most of the bench. Nothing he could do about the cops now. He was stuck here with these pricks until they decided they were ready to go.

'Pseudo,' said Nader.

'What,
all
of it?'

Nader laughed. 'You think that's a lot? You toys. I've got a fucking warehouse of this shit. You'll get a box a day for starters until we can get somewhere bigger for a better production run.'

This time Damien laughed. It sounded as though he'd inhaled helium. 'Are you crazy! Where the hell did you get that much? And anyway, I can't cook that fast. We're not set up to turn around that much shit.'

'So we set you up,' said Nader. 'That's another reason that you're where you are, Damien, and I'm where I am. You see an obstacle; I see a solution. You see a problem; I see an opportunity. But that's okay. That's why there are soldiers and generals.' He moved to stand next to Damien and gripped his shoulder. 'I don't even know that I'd call you a soldier, Damo. Agassi, over there? Now, he's a soldier. Urgill, soldier. What are you? Maybe you're in the engineering corps? Is that what they call it? Whatever. You're my little uni boy, and you're finally gonna learn what it means to work.'

Nader turned to face his friends. 'Hey, Agassi, you heard that joke about the uni student who goes for a job in a deli to pay his way through school?'

'Nuh,' said Agassi. He didn't sound as though he especially wanted to.

'The deli owner tells him he's got the job and to go mop out the back. The uni boy goes, "Mop! I've got a Bachelors Degree and I'm studying for my Masters!" So the deli boss comes from around the counter and grabs the mop. "Oh yeah?" he says. "Gimme the mop then and I'll show you how to use it."'

Agassi barked out a laugh. Urgill smiled at Nader expectantly, waiting. 'I don't get it,' he said, after a pause, big, confused smile still in place.

'Nah, you wouldn't, Urgill,' said Nader. 'But that's okay; you'd know how to use the mop, right?'

Urgill turned away, dropping the smile, his face indicating that he was pretty certain he'd just been insulted, but he was not exactly sure how. Damien figured he'd get that a lot.

'What do you pricks want to eat?' Urgill said.

'Are you still here, fuckwit?' said Nader. 'Get some kebabs. Use some initiative. Everyone wants food.'

Damien moved carefully towards his backpack and surreptitiously nudged it under a chair with his foot. He glanced sidelong in Nader's direction. Thank God he hadn't noticed. I've just got to get through tonight, he told himself. I can still be out of here first thing tomorrow.

Oh fuck! Damien dropped suddenly onto the lounge. The goodbye note. He had to get it before . . .

'What's up?' Whitey let himself in to join the party.

Damien put his head in his hands. Again.

This isn't good, Jill thought, trying to appear nonchalant.

'Shove over and let us in, Krystal,' said Ingrid. 'Now you're not going out, you can hang around with us for a change. You've hardly been around here at all lately.'

'Yeah, sorry, come in,' said Jill. She stepped back inside her unit and Jelly bowled through. Ingrid walked straight to her fridge.

'Not much in here,' said Ingrid, pulling out the cask. 'What are we gonna eat tonight?'

'I don't know. I was supposed to be eating out, remember?' she said. She turned to Jelly, who now had his head in the fridge. 'Did Kasem say why he can't take us out, Jelly?' she asked.

'Nope. Just called and said he'd take us another time. There's nothing in here,' he said, his mouth full of ham. 'I say we get pizza!'

'You're looking a little peed off, Krystal, babe,' said Ingrid. 'I reckon your man Gabriel might have something to worry about. Looks as if you might have seen the light, and you're thinking about taking a trip on the Nader train. I wouldn't mind me a ticket on that ride, I can tell you.'

'What are you talking about, Ingrid? Kasem's loss. I couldn't care less,' said Jill.

'Oooh,
denying
it! You got it bad, baby, and I don't blame you.' Ingrid held up Jill's cask and expertly squirted wine into a glass. 'Now me, if I'd been stood up by that man, I'd go find him, I would. See what else I could be doing to keep his attention away from all the other distractions out there.'

Jill forced a smile. 'He's not all that, Ingrid,' she said, wondering how she was going to let work know that Kasem was now unaccounted for. She checked the clock built into the stove. Eight. An hour till they moved in to install the listening device in Damien's house in Merrylands. If they couldn't get that thing in there, the ACC would shut the whole thing down before Jill had what she needed.

Damn, where was Nader?