Wyatt - 06 - The Fallout (23 page)

Then Gosse went still, his eyes far
away. Get her on the blower.

Sir?

Do it, ring her home number.
Now!

Shrugging, rolling his eyes at the
other sergeant, the man at the desk referred to a list and punched in Liz
Reddings number. They waited. The seconds mounted.

Answering machine.

Shes done a runner, Gosse said. I
can feel it. Right. Find her. I want her brought in. Quick as you can.

Right, sir.

Gosse was high in colour now, the
blood pounding in his head. You, he said, pointing to the other sergeant. Get
hold of whoever weve got attached to that shipwreck protection outfit, get him
or her over here at the double.

Yes, boss.

Then Gosse gathered himself,
counting slowly, and made his way to the interview room where Allie Roden was
being held.

He stepped in quickly, pleasantly, a
busy, efficient man with a job to do. He studied her file, letting the silence
work on her, then looked up. Well, youre in the poo, wouldnt you say?

She was bored. Would I?

There were times when Gosse hated
the games you had to play. They played their side of the game, you played
yours. His head started to pound again. He decided to fight dirty. Were
filing a procurement charge. Mr Christou said that he was being offered sex as
an incentive to invest in a shipwreck syndicate.

She flared. Thats not true!

By far the more serious charge is
theft from a shipwreck. According to Vallance, you have him in tow so that he
can impress the mugs with his knowledge of diving and shipwreck history. Its
your scheme, though, all the way, he says. You do all the heavy talking. And
heavy breathing, if were to believe Mr Christou. And, frankly, I do.

I dont know anything. Im just
along for the ride.

Gosse pushed his face close to hers.
Mr Christou said that four investors were involved, fifty thousand each. Did
you have sex with the other three? Well find them soon enough. They have
security videotapes at the casino. All we have to do is identify who youve
been seen with.

She pouted. Dont know anything.

She pronounced it
any think.
The
pout spoiled her looks. Her hair was dank and smelt of cigarettes, alcohol and
expensive perfume soured by sweat. Breathing shallowly, Gosse sat back in his
chair. He regarded her for some time, then went back along the corridor to
Vallance.

Miss Roden is quite upset. She says
you made her have sex with these investors and one of them gave her herpes.

Vallance went white. His hands
flashed to his groin. That bitch.

Is it true? Did you make her have
sex with them?

There was only one guy interested
in investing. Young bloke. Not Christou, whatever his name is.

Gosse said patiently, Okay, only
one prospective investor. Ill ask again, did you or did you not oblige Miss
Roden to have sex with this investor so that hed fork out fifty thousand
dollars?

Vallance snarled, No. Look, I asked
the bitch to be friendly, okay? Make the coffee, be around to answer questions,
make hotel bookings, that type of thing. I certainly didnt ask her to sleep
with this guy. Bloody hell, shes my bird. Id like to throttle the bitch.

You didnt know?

I had my suspicions. Vallance
wriggled in his seat, as though his trousers were tight. She could have taken
better care, got him to wear a rubber at least.

Youre infected for life if its
herpes.

Vallance began to scratch and tug. Fucking
moll.

Gosse said, Look at it this way.
Youll do time, two, maybe three years, but the herpes will protect you from
the hard men of the yard, keep them off you in the shower. You know, tell them
youre infectious and theyll leave you alone. Of course, some of these guys
have AIDS, so diey wont care one way or the other.

You lousy bastard.

Make it easy on yourself. Get a load
off your chest. Maybe the judgell be lenient.

Vallance was staring at his hands,
wiping them on his suit coat and tie. The tie was glossy black silk, patterned
with tiny silver diamonds. A lovely tie, now yanked free of the neck, the knot
as tight as an almond, bunched up in Vallances fist.

This young bloke who was going to
invest, he began.

What about him?

He told Allie a few things. Boasted
about them.

What things?

Vallance smoothed the tie. Still his
hands offended him. He rubbed them on his thighs. Understand that wed decided
we werent going to have any more to do with him. I mean, this salvage thing is
legitimate, I dont want some crim investing in it.

Gosse was interested. Hes a crim?
Whats his name?

* * * *

Thirty-five

As
they drove west from the airport at Wynyard, something she said penetrated the
recurring fog in Wyatts head. You tipped off CIB?

Yes.

About me? About Raymond?

Liz Redding wound down the window a
little. Some fresh air for your poor head. I said I tipped them off about
Vallance.

Oh.

I saw Vallance and his lady friend
with your nephew a couple of times. It didnt look right to me. I thought with
Vallance removed from the scene, you and Raymond would abandon whatever it was
you were up to. I wanted to save you from getting caught.

Vallance had nothing to do with the
paintings.

I know that now. I didnt at the
time.

There was Bass Strait on the right,
a range of mountains on the left, but here the country was featureless, the
kind of place where you nodded at the wheel and your speed crept up to 130,
140. Liz, Wyatt noticed, was driving at the limit, her eyes flickering between
the road ahead and the rear-view mirrors. She didnt once look at him.

How do you know about Vallance?

I was attached to the Maritime
Heritage Unit for a while. My job was to safeguard shipwreck sites from looters
and track down looted goods. Vallance was working there, doing research,
charting wrecks, that type of thing. He was given the sack. We couldnt prove
anything, but we think he was stealing artefacts that were awaiting
classification.

Wyatt was silent for a long time. He
fished out the silver dollar that Raymond had given him. Artefacts like this?

Liz slowed the car, pulled on to the
shoulder of the road. A semitrailer-load of wood ploughed past, storming the
little rental car with a gust of wind.

Let me see.

She turned the coin over and over in
her slender fingers. Did Vallance give you this?

He gave it to Raymond, Raymond gave
it to me.

Did he say where it came from?

Wyatt said wearily, Apparently from
a wrecked ship called the
Eliza Dean.
Vallance had found the ship. It
was carrying garrison pay to Hobart when it went down some time in the late
1820s. Raymond went out to the site with Vallance. Said he saw coins just lying
on the seabed.

Liz shook her head. I remember when
Vallance found that ship. He really did find it, it does exist, but there was
never any garrison pay. A cargo of timber and sheep, from memory. Its not an
important site. Its tucked out of the way and not even scuba divers or looters
are interested.

Wyatt was putting a picture together
in his head. This coincould it have come from another shipwreck?

Yes.

It could be one of the things
Vallance stole from the Heritage Unit?

Yes.

Wyatt took the coin from her
fingers. A traffic policeman slowed, stopped adjacent to them, but nodded and
sped off when Liz smiled and waved a road map at him.

Wed better move on, she said.

This is a Spanish dollar, right?

On its own its proof that Vallance
was lying to Raymond about the
Eliza Dean,
Liz said.

How?

In 1813 the English government
shipped forty thousand Spanish dollar coins to New South Wales. The Governor
knew they wouldnt last, there was a coin shortage, so he stamped out the
centre portion of each Spanish dollar and created two coins from one. The holey
dollar, and a coin of lesser value called a dump.

I know all this.

What you may not know is that by
the 1820s the coin shortage was over and in 1825 the British government passed
a law that only English sterling currency could be legal tender in the
colonytwo years before the
Eliza Dean
was sunk. Foreign coins, holey
dollars and dumps were recalled from circulation. That coin youve got there is
unlikely to have come from the
Eliza Dean.

So what about the coins Raymond
saw?

Vallance must have dived ahead of
Raymond and salted the wreck. Its a not uncommon scam in the Caribbean,
involving Spanish Main vessels.

Salted was an unfamiliar term to
Wyatt but he guessed what Liz Redding meant by it. There was no treasure on the
Eliza Dean.
Vallance had stolen old coins and scattered them near the
wreck in order to attract cash investors, and Raymond had fallen for it.

He groaned. Bloody fool.

Raymond?

Yes.

What will happen when he finds out?

Wyatt shrugged. Right now hes
probably desperate because he doesnt have the cash he promised Vallance, and
Chaffey is unlikely to give him any. He probably thinks he can use the
paintings to buy into Vallances syndicate, but if Vallances under arrest and
Raymond cant find him, he could do anything.

You think Raymonds in danger?

Wyatt said, He was in danger from
the moment he was born.

How do you mean?

Look at the family he was born
into.

Youre being too hard on yourself.
He had choices.

Wyatt thought about Raymonds
choices: Whether he should burgle houses or steal cars. Whether or not he
should betray his uncle. Whether he should shoot Denise Meickle or slap her
face to shut her up.

Wyatt, will he come after you?

Wyatt said, I would put money on
it.

* * * *

Thirty-six

It
was an odd sensation, knowing that she was in the house. Wyatt went for a prowl
of the creek and nearby gullies and trees, tracing in his mind the useful
landmarks: traps, places where they could hide, places of ambush. All the while
he felt the pull of her, back there in his house.

When Wyatt walked back through his
door a wall of heat enveloped him. Coals glowed in the open grate and freshly
split logs had been tumbled on to the hearth. He looked around. He was not an
untidy man, so hed not left much that needed attention, but it was clear to
him, from the aligned edges of an old newspaper and footprints showing against
the raised weave of the carpet, that Liz Redding had cleaned and vacuumed the
house.

Finally, as he advanced on the open
fire, Wyatt made a swift appraisal of Liz herself. She was sprawled in an
armchair, looking well-scrubbed and serene in a black tracksuit, with thick
socks on her feet, her hair bright in the firelight, alive with static
electricity. A cup and saucer on the end of the hearth held the dregs of weak
black tea. He bent to kiss her.

Her cheek was cool. She made a sound
in her throat. But, as he straightened, her composure cracked a little. She
shifted self-consciously in the armchair, as though aware that shed created a
warm domestic cocoon but was in fact far from home and far from secure.

She turned away, fixed her gaze on
the grate. Wyatt crossed to an ancient sideboard and cracked the seal on a
bottle of Scotch. He poured a couple of fingers into a glass and left it on the
mantelpiece while he swung the two-seater sofa to the opposite side of the
hearth. But he stumbled, the room yawed, the sofa tipped with him to the floor.

All he wanted to do was lie there,
in warmth and security, until the buzz and fog was gone from his head, but Liz
was cupping his face in her warm hands. You shouldnt make sudden movements.
Do you want a doctor? Her palms tensed. She began to slap his cheeks. Wake
up!

Wyatt rolled onto his side, levered
himself to his feet and righted the sofa. He collapsed into it, then remembered
his Scotch.

Liz pushed him back. Stay there. Ill
get it.

Wyatt let the Scotch burn him into a
state of relief from his trials. Liz, hovering uncertainly, sank into her
armchair when she saw him smile thinly at her, saw the vulnerability rather
than the customary chill in his hooded eyes.

She stared at his head. You need a
doctor. When he didnt respond she sighed. At least get some rest.

Right.

After a while she said, a little
sadly, I cant see you wanting me here with you.

Wyatt said nothing. Beyond sleep, he
didnt know what he wanted. He felt secure and warm, another chapter over.
Then, as the Scotch burned a little more, the thought came unbidden into his
head that he did want her there.