Follow the Money

'That crazy junkie bitch.'

'Didn't look crazy to me.'

'She is. She's been in and out of institutions since puberty. Nearly killed a man once. I know what I'd do to her if I…'

'What?'

'Never mind. Where is that bloody Chang?'

'That was May Ling calling, wasn't it? So Gretchen's on the loose? You should warn Habib, but you can't unless you impersonate me again and, frankly, your last effort wasn't that good.'

He was so close to the edge that he didn't even bother to reply. He took out his phone and looked at it.

'You've got no one to call,' I said, 'no one you can trust. I'm almost sorry for you.'

The doorbell rang. I opened my mouth to shout but, again, Ali was too quick for me. He pulled the gag back into place and hit me with another of his paralysing blows. He picked up the. 22 and headed down the passage.

Tasting and breathing dirty tea towel, I closed my eyes. I heard a scuffle and a series of thuds after the door opened but no gunshot. When I opened my eyes Stephen Chang was handcuffing Ali to the stair banister. Ali was fighting for breath; Chang wasn't even puffing. He went down the passage and returned with the small pistol.

'You could get in big trouble for this, Hardy.'

I'd recovered movement enough to nod. Chang untied the gag. He spotted Ali's knife and used it to cut the tie around my feet. Ali stood helplessly and Chang felt in his jacket pocket for the handcuff key. He unlocked the cuffs.

'Stand up slowly,' he said, 'let the blood return to where it belongs.'

I did what he said. 'Traditional Chinese advice.'

'That's right, and this prick copped a traditional Chinese heart punch.'

'How did you know?' I said.

Chang sat and crossed his legs. 'Well, we had our suspicions, didn't we? And when I fished around a bit I found out things I should've noticed before. Just small stuff in his reports; some unexplained gaps in his diary. But what saved your arse was May Ling. I was set to come over here although your voice sounded a bit off. But given your health problems… Anyway, May Ling called me and said she was sure someone was impersonating you. She's got a trained ear. A singer, apparently. So I was ready.'

I told Chang about the conversation Ali had had with Habib and the signs of tension between them.

'Any indication of where he is?' Chang asked.

'Not really. When Ali noticed my ears were flapping, he switched to Lebanese.'

'Not really isn't no.'

'I caught a word. It sounded like "fairchild". Mean anything to you?'

Chang shook his head. 'Not a thing. Are we talking about a person or a place?'

Ali's laugh was a hysterical screech. 'You won't find him. He's much too clever for you and the whole fucking-' He was cut off by my phone ringing again. I answered it. 'Cliff Hardy.'

'Cliff, really you?' May Ling said. 'Really me. I have to thank you-'

'No time. I've just heard from Gretchen. She says she's going to kill Malouf.' 'How? Where?'

'She says he's at a wharf in Fairmild Cove.' 'Where the fuck's that?' 'Mortlake somewhere. I'm going there now.' 'May Ling, don't. Wait. I've got Inspector Chang here. We'll get police there-'

'No, no, you don't understand what she's like. I have to get there first. I'm going. I just wanted you to know.' She cut the call.

29

I told Chang what May Ling had said. As I did, I grabbed my car keys from a hook in the kitchen.

'What d'you think you're doing?'

'I'm going there. That woman saved my life and yours. And if that's where Habib is that's where I have to be.'

Chang pulled out his phone. 'I can get a unit there quicker than you…'

'She says her sister's unstable. Ali here told me she almost killed someone once. A howling siren could set her off. Deal with what you've got here, Inspector, and come along when you're ready.'

'Fuck you, Hardy.'

I left with Chang still swearing and Ali laughing.

The Falcon looked as though half of it had been sitting out in a hailstorm. The passenger side and part of the roof were pitted where the pellets had struck and the windows were chipped. It started perfectly though and I got going. I was tired but adrenalin charged. I had a rough idea of how to get to Mortlake, and I decided I'd search for Fairmild Cove once I got there.

I headed west through light traffic towards Strathfield and picked up the road that went close to the Concord golf course where I'd once had dealings with a client, and on to the outskirts of Mortlake where my sense of direction cut out. I stopped and consulted the Gregory's. Fairmild Cove was adjacent to the Mortlake ferry and the way there was well signposted.

I got moving again and things came back to me. Just before I joined the army I decided to get myself super fit so as to be a star recruit. I'd been told that rowing was the best aerobic exercise of the lot, so I joined a rowing club. There were a lot of chaps from private schools but one or two roughies like me. I was put through my paces in a gym first, and I just qualified to be allowed in a boat. I rowed in fours and eights on the Parramatta River for a couple of months. I'd never done anything as strenuous before and never since, including basic training. A hard row takes everything out of you, breaks you down to your fundamental physical capacities. I remembered the area around Mortlake-a complex of jetties and wharves to do with some industrial concern-coal, or was it gas? It then looked, if not derelict, neglected. I wondered how it looked now.

The suburbs were quiet; the residents of Concord and

Mortlake went to bed early or were glued to their flat-screen TVs. Hilly Street took me to the ferry. A sign said it ceased operation at six fifteen pm. Two cars were parked in front of the locked, three-metre high gate. One was May Ling's silver Peugeot; the other was the red Mercedes I'd seen in the garage at the Nordlung house. The ferry was drawn up to the dock and there was no sign of movement.

I had my answer to the changes since I was last here. Where the industrial operations had sprawled, there were blocks of townhouses. One set flanked the river and on the opposite side of the street, with a less expensive view, another was in a late stage of construction. Fairmild Cove was a small sandy beach beside the ferry wharf. A boardwalk ran away to the left, between the townhouses and the river. The moon was high and bright and I could glimpse a jetty poking out into the river a hundred metres away. A sign at the beginning of the boardwalk announced that it was on private property. The public had access, but the sign listed all the things that were banned along its length-almost everything. You could walk a dog on a leash. Forget the dog and it was Habib's milieu all right-waterfront residence with boat facilities.

The boardwalk was well lit but I grabbed a torch from the glove box before setting off-a big torch with heavy batteries. A useful weapon if needed. There were lights on in some of the townhouses and in the warmer months there would probably have been people out on the balconies sipping drinks and taking in the moonlit view. Not tonight, with a cold wind. The water slapped against the rocks at the base of the boardwalk and spray hit the chain that served as a handrail. It had a cold, clammy feel.

I rounded a bend and saw a series of jetties arranged in a rough H pattern. A few boats were tied up, not many. It looked like a perfect place for a marina but as if the idea hadn't yet occurred to anyone. Or maybe the money wasn't in the right pockets yet. I moved forward straining to see or hear anything that might tell me what was happening. The dull pulsing in my damaged ear that I'd grown used to was sharper, affected by the wind.

You're too old for this. Who'd said that? I couldn't remember.

'Hardy!'

May Ling rose up from a crouch near a point where the jetties branched and there was some kind of sculpture providing cover. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down as she pointed.

'They're on that boat,' she whispered. 'I don't know what to do. Help me, help her.'