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Brian waited until they were on their way down to greet Osaka before he whispered, ‘We should hit them for an advance.'

‘Are we in that much trouble?'

‘Miller's owed us a lot. Even if we do get forty percent of what they owed us, it'll be months, maybe years before we see it.'

Daniel whispered, ‘We already got the first instalment. They'll think we're hicks.' Then he beamed, ‘Mr Osaka. Delighted to see you again.'

The Sheridan bigwigs were admiring the new wallpaper in the lobby by the lifts.

‘Beautiful,' said Johnson, the American.

Brian, all smiles, said, ‘The pastel colours you've chosen are very warm, very charming.'

McClusky was the bean counter. ‘And this hotel will be completed?'

Daniel said, ‘Ready for painting in one week, and the final fretwork.'

‘You can have your staff back in within a fortnight,' chimed in Brian.

Nods all round except Osaka, who picked at invisible dust on a door jam.

McClusky asked, ‘And Rockingham?'

‘On schedule. Daniel?'

‘On schedule, as agreed.' They were looking at his arm. Daniel said, ‘Fortunately, I oversee the work now and no longer need to be quite so hands-on.'

‘Thankfully, this means Daniel will be sparing us his golfing talents this visit.' Brian to the rescue again.

Smiles. Daniel happy to wear it. He was an angry golfer.

Osaka whispered to Johnson who said, ‘Mr Osaka asks after your family hotel.'

Daniel smiled. He couldn't help bowing ever so slightly to Osaka. He said, ‘Very slowly. A labour of love.'

Osaka nodded wisely. He said something else in Japanese.

McClusky said, ‘Sheridan's offer still stands.'

Osaka had made a number of offers to buy the old hotel. Daniel was having trouble finding polite ways to say no. He could feel Brian's restlessness as everyone waited on Daniel's response. Daniel smiled and said, ‘Mr Osaka and I have the same tastes.'

Osaka smiled for the first time. He bowed. The bigwigs went into the nearest room to inspect the refit.

Brian whispered, ‘They love us.'

‘And we love Sheridan.'

Daniel stood at the deli counter waiting for his change. He was in his favourite overalls, nicely plastered and paint-impregnated. The chicken roll and drink were in his sling, like a carry bag.

The owner said, ‘Home, mate?'

‘Nah. Do another run tonight maybe.'

‘Business must be good.'

‘I wish.'

Daniel took his dinner back to his ute and headed back to the workshop. He'd let the guys go at knock-off time, not knowing if they could cover overtime under the present circumstances. Brian was at dinner with the Sheridan mob and other contractors and hoteliers. Daniel figured he could turn out the moulds to finish drying overnight and get another load on before he headed off.

When he got to the side door, it was already unlocked. He twisted the handle a couple of times trying to remember if he had locked it before he left for dinner. He was tired. It was possible.

He put the Coke and roll on a bench and touched the nearest plaster. It seemed firm. When he straightened he noticed a blue glow from one of the upstairs offices. Someone had left a computer on. He grabbed the roll and wound down the foil and munched on it as he went up the steep stairs. His office was empty but his computer was on. He turned on his office light and went in, reaching for the mouse to close things down. It was parked on the Sheridan page. He scrolled down. It wasn't
just Sheridan. It was Brian's overview of all their current accounts.

Daniel turned towards Brian's office but the lights weren't on and all Daniel could see was a reflection of himself in the glass divider. ‘Brian?'

Daniel looked the other way. Reception was dark. He closed his computer and grabbed a heavy metal T square from the drawing desk. He turned out his office light.

‘Brian?'

He went to the top of the stairs. The workshop floor was still down to a third lighting where he had left it when he went for food. Upstairs was darker but seemed empty.

He heard movement and looked down. A figure was running to the door.

‘Hey!'

They scrambled for the handle.

Daniel threw the T square. It spun like a boomerang and boomed loudly on the large metal wall before clattering onto the empty concrete floor.

They had the door open and were gone.

Daniel clambered down the metal steps, slowed by his bad arm, and ran out into the darkness. He stopped, just outside the door, scanning the yard. Like other factories, they had high security lights aimed at doors and gates but with lots of darkness in between. He heard an engine start. He saw the car up at the road. A four-wheel drive. It went past the gate. Blue.

Daniel headed for the ute, but dropped his keys, managing to kick them under as they fell. The blue car was long gone.

Helen woke alone but with a feeling someone was downstairs. Daniel's clock showed 2.14.

She put on her dressing-gown and went along the hall, the nightlight a dull blue. Frances was asleep, her night-light on too. Sam was in bed, his covers fallen to the floor. The air conditioning was on, but the night was warm and his curtains moved slightly. He liked his window open. She went in and folded his doona at the end and pulled the sheet
over him. He didn't stir. He slept with a smile of perfect beauty and Helen wanted to stroke his face, but heard noise downstairs.

A light was on. It was Daniel's home office. Helen went halfway down the stairs. ‘Daniel?'

She could hear his voice.

‘And I woke you?' He listened. ‘You had to get up to get the phone anyway. Sorry. No, his mobile was off. Sorry. It'll wait till morning. Goodnight Rosemarie.' Daniel sat in his leather chair holding the telephone. He was dressed in his filthy overalls. He had his work boots on, in the house.

He saw her in the doorway and put the phone down. ‘I woke you too.'

She sat in the chair inside the door. ‘Big order on?'

‘Oh, you know,' he said standing.

‘No, I don't know. I got the sack from Hearth & Home when I got pregnant.'

‘You didn't get the sack. You got promoted. I better get some sleep.' He went to the door but she stayed sitting, seeing if he needed to or would share.

‘Come on, mate. It's late,' he said, patting her on the shoulder as he went out.

She followed him up, aware in spite of herself that he was leaving dusty boot tracks on the carpet of the stairs.

He sat on the end of the bed unlacing his boots expertly with one hand.

‘Mate!' she said.

He looked up, blinking.

‘Well matey, I'll catch you tomorrow, mate.' She hung her dressing-gown on the hook behind the door.

‘What?'

‘Mate is what you call someone who hands you a hammer. Mate is the name of someone in a bottle shop.'

‘Ahh. Darling.'

‘And don't bring your work boots into the house.' She picked them up off the floor and took them into the ensuite.

He had moved over to his side of the bed when she came back. He was struggling to get out of his overalls with his back to her.

‘Is there trouble at work?'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘You don't usually give Brian nighty-night calls at two a.m.'

‘His mobile was off. Otherwise I wouldn't have woken Rosemarie.'

Helen considered his non sequitur.

He seemed to realise it because he said, ‘Nothing. Usual stuff. Deadlines. Banks.'

‘Now that wasn't so hard was it?'

He didn't turn around. He kept working on his overalls, managing to get them down.

‘Is that all?'

‘Sure. Just late and tired. That's all.' He turned and smiled. Yes, tiredly.

She climbed into bed and said, ‘Well thanks, mate.'

He'd gone into the ensuite. She wondered why she hadn't helped him with his overalls.

They met at the bank where Bradley had called them to a mysterious meeting. Daniel told Brian what had happened at the factory the previous night as they waited amongst the customers.

‘Did you phone the cops?'

‘I tried to phone you, sheriff.'

‘I died with my boots on. By the way, Rosemarie is pissed at you.'

‘There's no way you could have left our accounts up on the computer?'

‘Not on your computer. Our accounts would make pretty slim viewing. Was anything missing?'

‘Not that I could see. Have to check when we get back from this.'

Bradley shook hands but without a smile. When they settled across Bradley's paperless black desk he said, ‘So, there's nothing you'd like to tell me.'

Brian said, ‘Could you give us a clue?'

Bradley ignored him, looking pointedly at Daniel. ‘Did you think my seeing your old hotel would mitigate things?'

Daniel asked, ‘Mitigate?'

Bradley looked at his computer screen with a frown.

Brian said, ‘What?'

‘Mr Longo, are you still under the terms of bankruptcy provisions?'

Daniel didn't understand. Perhaps it was his lack of sleep.

The banker repeated the question, ‘Are you an undisclosed bankrupt?'

Bankrupt? Daniel turned the word again.

Brian said, ‘Mr Bradley, as Mr Longo's accountant for ten years and business partner for six, I can assure you that Daniel has never filed for nor been declared bankrupt.'

Daniel found his voice. ‘What's going on?'

Bradley was nodding to Brian. ‘I'll go through the credit rating details. Institute searches in the bankruptcy declarations. It may be a computer error.'

‘You bet it's an error,' said Daniel, getting angry now.

Brian put a hand on his arm. Asked the banker, ‘Our line of credit, Jeff?'

‘On hold. Not withdrawn, mind you.'

‘But effectively frozen?'

‘My hands are tied. Until we can sort this out.'

‘I've always paid my bills. Always,' said Daniel in Brian's car.

‘I know Danny. Shit. Could it have been your father?'

‘What! How?'

‘No, I mean was he ever bankrupt? You know so they've confused the info with the same surname.'

‘No,' said Daniel quietly. The truth was he didn't know.

‘It could explain the glitch is all.'

‘Have I ever let you down?'

‘No man. That's not what I'm saying.'

‘I'm sure.'

‘Shit!' said Brian at the next lights, banging on the steering wheel.
Daniel gathered all the men from the workshop. They knew something was up. Daniel's mouth was dry. ‘The half-pay should only continue until we get the second payment through from Sheridan. Or if the bank fixes up their fuck-up.'

He looked around to find an encouraging face or even one that was not grim. Only young Nadif looked hopeful. Everyone else started looking at their feet, probably doing sums in their heads.

‘Look, I won't let you guys down, okay?'

Brian was in his office working the phone. ‘Ron, it's not alarm bell time! I only want it taken out to ninety days. We've got a big one on. You know the big outfits take their time in paying their end.'

Brian looked at Daniel, grimacing as he tried not to scare one of their main suppliers.

Daniel visited. He wished Merry Christmas and dropped off wine and whisky and hampers that they probably couldn't afford but didn't share the offered beers. He showed a couple of the bigger joints the figures concerning Sheridan, as an act of good faith, he said, but only because the Miller's problem had spooked folks.

Daniel had got to Sheridan's Rockingham site before knock-off time. He drove home late, making the lists in his head, of what Rockingham would need to start, of the next stage of the city, of what could be done at the factory to generate short-term cash.

When he turned into his street, he nearly hit a car. It was a stupid place to park so close to the corner but he had started to relax too soon, in sight of home. He looked in the rear-view mirror, annoyed, but realised the car was familiar. It was a blue Land Cruiser. Like the one at the factory and maybe somewhere else too.

Daniel turned into his driveway. The bedroom lights were off. It was after ten. He put the ute in reverse and backed out, his headlights sweeping the little picket fence that separated his driveway from the one next door and then picking up the blue Land Cruiser, still parked at the entrance to Daniel's street. Daniel drove back towards it, suddenly turning his headlights to high beam to see the number plate. It lurched forward and drove past, heading into the dead end.

Daniel slammed on his brakes but he smiled as he did a three-point
turn at the entrance to his street. He could see the Land Cruiser at the other end, its headlights now on sweeping at the bottom of a semicircle of Christmas lights. It was trapped in the dead-end street.

‘Got you now, you fucker.' Daniel drove slowly down the centre of the street towards the Land Cruiser as it came back towards him. But the other car wasn't slowing. It sped up and moved to the middle of the road. Then high beams came on, dazzling Daniel. He turned his steering wheel instinctively away and to the right and hit the brakes. He saw grass and a birdbath in the next door neighbour's front yard. He veered left and smashed through the side picket fence and into his own front yard before the ute stopped.

Helen watched the neighbours and the police. They'd finally turned off the flashing blue light so that the Christmas reds and greens and whites could glow brightest again. Haggis had refused to stop barking until Helen locked him in the laundry.

Daniel was standing near the shattered pickets adjoining the Hoseys talking to the young policeman. ‘It was the same one.'

‘But you didn't report this ... burglary?'

‘I am now.' Daniel was talking loudly.