Noel and Brett looked at each other and then without a word moved toward the unused second office, where there was another door leading into the back hallway and the fire stairs. Andy and Dave stood still. With Bec not there to field whoever it was, Justin strode over and opened up.
He knew the detective, MacDonald, standing there grinning. There was no shouting, no guns, no battering ram. Just MacDonald, who said, “Gooday, pal!” like a postie about to ask him to sign for a package. “Coming in, mate, alright?”
And then the room was full of men and women. Andy on the floor, the Stooges back in the room after being ambushed at the other door. Justin was whisked into the back room. Dave into Justin’s office. But still not much noise.
Everyone knew the drill. Cops asked first if there were any guns, then asked each one to hand over the drugs, while in the very act of thoroughly searching each one of them. The boys had too much form to break down or blather — say nothing, they knew that — but there was despair on every face. Andy looked at Noeclass="underline" So what about your fucking mate, wasn’t he supposed to warn us about shit like this? Noel’s return look: I don’t fucking know. Ask Timmy.
The packets of drugs they’d just so carefully weighed out were lined up on the reception desk. Appreciative whistles from the cops. Next to them the pocket scales, nearly as important as the dope itself, which would help prove the intention to supply. The cops miffed, though, that there was no money.
The whole time MacDonald was friendly, conciliatory, like a favorite uncle who’d dropped by unexpectedly to take the kids to the pictures, but maybe had to clear up this little misunderstanding first.
It all went on for an hour. The boys were separated, then all brought back together in the reception area. Justin, Andy, the Stooges all in a line, handcuffed, forlorn. Except for Dave, who was still being questioned in Justin’s office.
Then pairs of cops took each one of them in relays to the cars downstairs. Here in Edgecliff the cops knew to keep it low-key.
Di watched it all, half hidden behind the palm in New Beginnings. Her heart beating fast, even though it was not her business (really not her business).
When the mob of jacks had come pouring out of the lift and off the stairs, gathering silently outside Good Bloke, they’d barely glanced her way. Except for the blond girl, the one she’d seen talking with Bec, who gave Di and her salon a good, long look. But then Justin had opened up, and the blonde turned quickly away and marched into Good Bloke along with the others.
Di had immediately rung up and canceled the next two appointments, sent Maddy and Kim home for the day. She was shaky enough to want a cig, although it was five years since she quit. She stayed on, busied herself with admin tasks as best she could while she kept an eye on the bust. Should she ring Chris the lawyer? No. Justin would do that soon enough. But still she waited, watched Andy and the Stooges being taken away. Then finally Justin, handcuffed, with the older cop next to him, not even holding his arm, walked to the lift.
She could feel Justin aware of her there, but he didn’t look her way — gallantry, maybe, keeping her out of it. But MacDonald, who was now holding the Fitness First bag, turned her way and knew exactly where she was in the salon. He caught her eye, shrugged sadly, said, “Sorry, love,” or something. He and Justin disappeared into the lift. The doors closed.
She let the lift go, then said to herself, Fucking jesus, just go! and ran down the stairs. Got there as Justin and MacDonald were stepping onto the footpath, into the roar of New South Head Road. So casual that you wouldn’t even notice it was a bust unless you looked closely. She ran around, stood in front of them. MacDonald paused, for the first time unsure, and annoyed.
“Ring Chris?” she said.
Justin nodded quickly. “It’s federal. Not state. Tell him I’ll be in Goulburn Street. Federal.”
“Got it.”
MacDonald had recomposed himself. “Now, now, now. Better leave this alone, Diane. That’s right, isn’t it? Diane? We know you, don’t we?”
That rattled her.
He leaned over, beaming kindly now, and whispered, “So bugger off, dearie, or we’ll fuck you from here to Christmas.”
She took a step back, said to Justin, “Ring Tony?” His recovery sponsor. Justin pulled a look, nodded.
She watched them get into the dull green car in the side lane — she knew shit about cars, but it was so obviously a cop car. Up the street she could see the blond cop at the driver’s seat of another car, dull blue — also obviously police — chatting with Bec in the passenger seat. Was Bec being questioned? Was she one of them? Another young male cop came out of the food court carrying takeaway coffees, handed a cup to the blonde, one to Bec, and off they drove, laughing. Yes, one of them.
Ten minutes earlier, upstairs, in the Good Bloke office. MacDonald, Dave, and another cop, all sitting around Justin’s desk.
Mac smiled, nodded slowly. “Went well, boys, no doubt about it,” speaking softly so not to be heard in reception, where a handcuffed and mournful Justin was waiting with a junior constable. “They pinched the Koreans half an hour ago. Pounds of piss, goods in custody. Gone for a row of shithouses.” He looked directly at Dave. “And you,” he went on, grinning broadly now, “you’ve done well, Dave. Bloody well. Best I’ve seen. Best anyone’s seen. All that time and effort. It’s been noted at the highest echelon, you get me?” Then, looking more closely at Dave, “You alright?”
“Yeah, first rate boss, no worries.”
Mac stood up. “Show’s over now. Consider yourself back home. You won’t be needed in court, they’ve got enough. But obviously, don’t let any of those cunts see you, not just yet.”
Dave nodded.
The other cop said, “They’ll know what’s up when Dave doesn’t show up in remand.”
MacDonald shrugged. “No matter.” To Dave he said, “You’ve seen enough of the inside of Long Bay, eh?”
Dave nodded again, grinned uncertainly.
Mac walked to the door, patted Dave’s shoulder as he passed. “Give us a minute while I take this prick out here away. You blokes follow up later. No rush,” and he was gone.
Dave and the young cop looked at each other. Mac had conspicuously not asked Dave to front up the sandwich bag still stuck in his pocket. Mac never overlooked anything. His idea of a reward? No rush, he’d said.
The cop grinned at Dave. “So?”
Di arrived back upstairs, saw the lights still on in Good Bloke, shadows moving around in there. She went quietly into New Beginnings, stopped the fountain, turned out the main lights, sat there at her stool, and called Tony the sponsor. She finished, looked up to see Dave step out of Good Bloke, then a detective. Dave’s hands were free.
Dave pulled the door shut until it clicked, turned to the cop and nodded. Job done.
The cop was about Dave’s size, his age, even his build. He and Dave walked to the lift and the cop pressed the button. Dave rolled his shoulders. He said something and the cop guffawed.
Di stared. Dave and the cop still joshing with one another while they waited. Old friends. Dave’s voice sounded different. The laugh too. The shakiness gone.
The door opened and the cop stepped in.
Dave suddenly looked back down the hall, straight into New Beginnings. He saw her there staring back at him. His smile went. They held the look. This time Dave let it out, let it show. Maybe he just couldn’t hide it: he was drowning. She had nothing to throw him.