Wyatt - 06 - The Fallout (13 page)

* * * *

Eighteen

The
safe house was a boxy weatherboard perched on a steep slope above a creek in
Warrandyte, in the ranges north of Melbourne. Raymond felt claustrophobic, shut
in by the dense overhang of trees, the squabbling birds, the gullies and hills.
You could see for miles from his balcony in the city. Here all you could see
was the fence through the trees in the garden, then more trees. If you were
lucky you got a glimpse of the sky. Otherwise there was only the house and the
driveway and his Jag.

And Denise Meickle, waiting stonily
outside the front door. Raymond nodded, approached, not liking what he saw. He
was supposed to spend a few days with this, help her bloke get out of remand,
hang around afterwards and help both of them get out of the country? For
fifteen thousand bucks? Jesus. He wouldnt be listing this on his CV.

Raymond got closer. Denise Meickle
was a real sadsack, okay clothes but gloomy in the face, with the kind of skin
that is permanently red and chapped around the mouth and nostrils. Hefty jaw,
broad forehead, slight body, as though her head and her trunk belonged to
different people. It was inevitable that Raymond would think about Allie Roden
and begin to count his luck. Steer had to be really hard-up.

Made it, he said.

The Meickle woman looked at her
watch. I was expecting you an hour ago.

No wonder Chaffey hadnt wanted to
be in on their first meeting. I got lost, Raymond said.

Hed taken a winding route through
Doncaster and Templestowe, gazing unbelievingly at the crass houses, the
evidence of vulgar new wealth, a lot of it acquired dishonestly. Thered been a
story going around a few years ago that Wyatt had tangled with a crime family
out here, raided their compound for the money they owed him. Nerve and vision.
Raymond felt a kind of envy and resentment stir inside him. Why would Wyatt
want to help him lift a collection of paintings, especially if he had a million
bucks worth of stolen jewels hidden away? There had to be cash stowed away,
too, over the years. Wyatt could pick and choose as he liked. One day theyll
say the same about me, Raymond thought.

Tricky place to find, he said now,
tucked away back here in the hills.

Meickle grunted. You might as well
come inside. Bring your bag with you.

Raymond followed her into the house.
It smelt of treated baltic pine, wood stain and a stale trace of cat. It
belonged to friends of Denise Meickle. They were overseas for a year. Meickle
had a key, but wasnt expected to do more than water the garden every few days.

They came to a poky loungeroom with
a glass wall that faced a stand of spindly tall gums. Raymond waited, content
to let Meickle take the lead. According to Chaffey, she used to be a
Correctional Services psychologist at Ararat prison, where she met Steer. She
might be a gloomy, box-faced cow but Raymond knew that a psychologist is
someone who reads your mind, so he intended to keep his trap shut as much as
possible.

Sleeping arrangements, she said. Im
in the main bedroom, youre through here.

She led him to a tiny bedroom. There
was a single bed, a nursery frieze around three of the walls, a zoo poster
taped to an inbuilt wardrobe, a window that looked upon more fucking trees. Uh
huh, he said.

If you dont like it, theres the
sofa.

This will do.

When youre ready, we can start
work.

Raymond unpacked. He found her in
the kitchen, watching moodily as an electric kettle boiled. She poured weak
coffee and they sat at a chrome and laminex kitchen table, 1960s kitsch. Raymond
stretched the kinks out of his back and shoulders, yawned, and said, I suggest
we start with

It was clear that Denise harboured
all of the disappointments of her thirty years in her face and her voice. The
face was pinched and disapproving, the voice, too: You start by getting a few
things straight. First, youre here to help out, not take charge, not do your
own thing, just do as youre told, okay?

Thats cool.

The plan is Tonys and mine. We

It was odd hearing Steers first
name. Big Tone, Raymond said, then wondered why hed said it.

None of this is a joke. You come
recommended by Chaffey, but Ive yet to be convinced. You dont impress me. You
dont make me laugh. You dont turn me on. Im not going to cook or clean for
you. Got all that?

Delivered with a low, uninflected
voice full of authority. Raymond saluted. Yes, sir, maam, sir.

She waited. She might have been
counting to ten. This is an awfully small house, Raymond thought, to be holed
up in with a whaddaya call it, femo-nazi.

The plan, Denise Meickle said, is
that we get him out on Sunday.

Bit soonish, Raymond said.

It happens to be a long weekend.
The benefits are as follows. First, the remand centre in Sunshine is
understaffed anyway, but even more so when we factor in the long weekend.
Secondly, hes in a unit looked after by female officers.

Raymond clicked his tongue
approvingly. Theyre not likely to try it on. Pushovers.

In other circumstances, Denise
said, Id take exception to that. But youre right, theyll be easier to
control if anything goes wrong for Tony on the inside. Just two female officers
in charge of a unit of twenty inmates.

What time?

Six in the evening. Just getting
dark out. Inside theyll be finishing dinner, heading off to watch TV. Everyone
milling around, relaxed, a fair bit of noise and orderly confusion.

Raymond gazed out at the thick
trees. Trees for miles. Houses and towns, too, and hills and paddocks, but this
house was set fair in the middle of a fucking forest, it seemed like. Hed go
mad if he didnt go out occasionally. But what really burned him up was the
thought that if he didnt come up with some big money as a deposit soon,
Vallance would sell the last syndicate share to someone else. The fifteen grand
from this job would only appease Vallance for a while. What he really needed
was to find Wyatt and convince him to help out with Chaffeys art theft.

He turned to Denise. You havent
said how.

Wait here.

She came back with an architects
drawing, which she rolled out on the table, weighing both ends down with their
empty cups. She had short fingers with unflattering nails white flecked,
poorly trimmed. Raymond liked a woman who looked after her hands. Allies slim
hands on his back, Denise Meickles little hands on Steers back. He shook the
image away and tried to concentrate.

This is the wall facing the alley
that runs off Craigie Street. Its all administration here on the first floor.
This she tapped a small rectangular shape is an air-conditioning unit set
in the wall. It looks as if it cant be moved but in fact it will slide right
out once Tony undoes a bolt holding it to the wall.

Hows he going to do that?

Every air-conditioner in the
building was serviced recently. Tony was on the work detail because hes good
with machinery and electrics. When he replaced this particular unit he made
sure it looked finished off but in reality it will slide right away from the
wall, leaving a gap he can climb through.

So we park in the alley and pick
him up.

Yes.

Stolen car?

We steal two cars, and two sets of
plates for them. One car to pick him up. We drive it a short distance to the
first change-over car, somewhere near the start of the Hume Freeway, then
somewhere half an hour out of Melbourne we change cars again, using my car to
head across back here to Warrandyte. Theyll think were heading north, into
New South Wales.

I steal the cars, I drive?

Its one of the things youre
supposed to be good at.

Im good, Raymond said simply. Where
do you come into the picture?

Ill pick you up on the Hume. Ive
also been shopping for the gear.

What gear?

Denise slid a sheet of notepaper
across the table. Shopping list.

Jesus Christ, Raymond said.

Stun gun, mobile phones, camping
gear, camouflage net, police scanners, Victoria Police radio codes, handcuffs,
bolt cutters, three pistols, three shotguns, ammunition, food, petrol and
water.

How we supposed to get all this
stuff?

Most of it Ive taken care of already.

Stun gun?

Mail order from the States. Arrived
a couple of days ago.

Jesus.

Raymond thought: This is how the
hard boys operate. Look and learn, Raymond, old son. Why all the outdoor
stuff?

If something goes wrong well head
for the bush.

Christ, Raymond thought. Mosquitoes,
rabbits, foxes, sleeping with a rock in the small of your back, wiping your
arse with a bunch of leaves. A lot of stuff to buy.

I need you to buy some of it, like
the phones, camping equipment, etcetera. The rest is taken care of.

Must have some cluey mates.

Youll be told what you need to
know, Ray. Dont worry about it.

For all her mousy ways, she was
pretty confident. Im not worried, Raymond said.

Good. She looked at him, and he
could see that she was looking for a way to make him feel that he was just as
much at the centre of the operation as she was. Um, how will you get the cars?

Raymond thought, stupid bitch, then
leaned back in his chair. We want cars that wont be missed until several
hours after we break Steer out. Were looking at people who take a train to the
city mid-Sunday afternoonoff to a movie, maybe a part-time job, concert,
whatever.

Good thinking.

Raymond nodded.

Make sure one of them is a
four-wheel-drive. Tough. Good tyres.

How come?

In case we have to leave the Hume
and head into the bush.

Always a step ahead of him. Raymond
pushed back from the table. No time like the present. Got any cash?

Meickle frowned. Chaffeys given
you fifteen thousand.

My fee, Raymond said. It doesnt
go on expenses.

Grumbling, she counted five hundred
dollars into his hand. I want receipts.

Raymond took the Ruger automatic and
a suppressor, stowed them in the glove box of the Jag and headed down to the
city to go shopping. He started with the camping shops in Elizabeth Street. It
felt good buying the best, peeling off fifties and hundreds of Denise Meickles
hard-earned cash.

By six oclock hed bought
everything on the list. Meickle was expecting him back at the safe house, but
she could wait. Raymond let himself into his flat at 6.15, showered and shaved,
and was ready for the voice on the intercom at 6.30.

Come on up.

He opened the door naked. It wasnt
something you could do with every bird, but somehow he knew that Allie Roden
wasnt likely to scream and run.

She didnt.

* * * *

Nineteen

By
6 oclock on the eighteenth, the two escape vehicles were in place. Raymond,
armed with an automatic pistol for himself and another for Steer, and wearing
gloves and a balaclava, nosed a stolen Fairmont into the alley next to the
remand centre and waited. Shortly after 6 oclock, Steer came feet-first
through the wall and dropped lightly to the ground.

Those aspects of the plan were
faultless. The first thing to come unravelled was the drive away from the
remand centre. Raymond was barrelling the Fairmont out of the alley, braking
for Craigie Street, when a taxi drew in to drop off a passenger and he braked
but slid smack into the side of the cab.

Get out, Steer said, waving his
revolver at Raymond.
Move.

The Fairmont was undrivable, the
bumper and wing folded in against the right front tyre.

The taxi, Steer said.

Raymond followed him. The Fairmont
had smashed in both passenger-side doors of the taxi, so Steer headed around to
the drivers side. Raymond found himself matching Steer move for move. Steer
opened the drivers door and hauled out the cabbie; Raymond opened the rear
door and hauled out the passenger, who waved a wallet at him angrily.

Stop daydreaming, Steer screamed. Get
in, for Christs sake, and drive like the clappers.

Raymond followed Steer into the
front of the taxi. He felt a kind of elation, a kind of decisive,
get-out-of-my-way competence. It was the feeling he got when he walked into a
bank with the shotgun. He yanked the lever into drive and peeled away.

Raymond was soaring now. He slipped
the taxi rapidly through the sluggish Sunday traffic and onto a broad, deserted
avenue. Here his exhilaration broke. Ha! he shouted, punching the wheel. Yes!

Steers big hand seemed to float
free of his lap and suddenly swing like an axe against Raymonds upper lip. His
head rocked back. The pain was intense and blood spurted from his mouth.

Theres a certain bone in the nose.
Hit a certain way, it gets driven into the brain. Not a good way to die. So dont
fuck up again. Fuck up again and youre history.