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Arranged along the back boundary were piles of pavers and bricks, small mountains of gravel,
sand, bark-chips and sugar cane residue - everything anyone could possible require to create the
garden beautiful. We leaned nonchalantly on the picket fence.
Try not to be obvious, but what do you see over there in the long grass?
An old mango tree and a shed rotting away beneath it.
A cottage. Probably the old farmhouse.
Your eyes must be better than mine.
Worth a look?
Tonight?
Tonight.
The woman was still on the phone, so we smiled, displayed our empty hands and drove away in
search of somewhere to park, make a meal and rest until nightfall.
It s not rotting. Some of the stumps have sagged, but it s sound.
As far as we can tell by torchlight.
And dry.
As far as we can tell by torchlight.
And the power s connected.
And there are no neighbours.
Everything doctor Rory ordered.
It was filthy, stank of rats, possums and snakes, most of the windows were broken and the
chimney had collapsed, but apart from that, it was perfect. I phoned Rory, telling him we d have it
ready in a couple of days. He said it would take him that long to prepare his stuff, so we agreed to
meet in forty-eight hours.
We slept the rest of the night in the back of the ute in the park where we d had breakfast, and the
following day bought three sheets of hardboard, a bucket, a broom, paint, detergent, and a set of
tools. Under cover of darkness we drove up to the house, unloaded, drove back to a busy section of
the road, parked and walked back to the house, making sure we were unobserved.
By the light of low wattage bulbs we painted rough black shapes on the boards and screwed them
to the insides of the windows of the largest room. From the road they would look like the shadowy
interior. After sweeping and cleaning we repaired the locks and hinges on the outside door at the
back that opened into the kitchen, and screwed the front door to the jambs. The last job was to make
sure no window could be opened, and to screw shut all internal doors except the one between the
kitchen and the large room.
The sun rose, the road became busy, and we collapsed into sleeping bags on the newly cleaned
floor, worrying about things we might have forgotten, and arguing about the best way to trap our
prey.
Before I give MacFife my impersonation of Smith, I ll have to ring him to make sure he hasn t
got a cold or died.
Why not ask him to phone for you while you re at it?
You think he ll recognise my voice?
Anything s possible.
I ll disguise it.
What re you going to say?
No idea.
Mrs Smith answered. Yes?
Is Bill there?
No! William is not here! Why do you want him?
To buy a painting.
Which one?
Can I speak to him?
No!
I must.
Then go to Canada!
How long has he been there?
Who are you? I know your voice.
I disconnected.
One good idea ruined. The man s not even in the country.
Good thing. It would have been too easy for MacFife to contact Smith and check. We have to be
more subtle.
You mean this place ain t subtle? I looked around. If someone told you your enemy was hiding
here, would you approach at night?
Not without a small army.
Exactly, it s an obvious trap. We ll have to meet him somewhere he won t be suspicious, then
overpower him and bring him here. Where would he feel secure?
Somewhere public?
Getting warm.
Sauna bath?
Not that warm.
Pass.
A hotel?
Excellent! We ll meet him in the Hilton Starlight Lounge.
Nope he s used to class.
Then you ve got me. Under the Storey Bridge is the nearest I got to class in Brisbane.
Do you know that mansion by the river? The one they made into a boutique hotel?
No.
Well, that one.
And what s the lure?
We ll make him a tempting offer. He ll come to our hotel suite to check the goods. We nobble
him, bring him back here and torture him until he agrees to confess all to the cops. Simple.
We argued over the details all the details.
Rory, when he pulled up with Lida at the park the following morning, thought it a better idea than
the first, but baulked at being the bait in the trap. I know nothing about drugs.
Neither do we. All you have to do is make the phone call, meet him in the foyer of the hotel in
Brisbane, smooth-talk him up to your suite without his body-guard, and leave the rest to us
commandoes waiting inside.
He ll bring his body-guard inside.
We re three to two.
He ll be armed.
We ve got a .22 and a shotgun.
He s sure to have another silenced handgun. Rory pulled a face and turned to Lida. What do
you reckon?
We ve done more dangerous things.
Not in Australia.
She shrugged thin shoulders. Someone s got to make it safe for Peter to return home. She said it
simply, as though impatient with our procrastination, then turned to me. We ll both need new
clothes, then I ll go to the gallery to find how to contact MacFife. How much money can we
spend?
Whatever it takes. I gave them my card and pin number, knowing they wouldn t waste a penny.
After a quick cup of coffee we left Rory and Lida to turn themselves into believable members of the
underworld, and set off for Brisbane to check out the hotel. We d return the same evening to
prepare the house for a guest.
Parking the ute as near the service entrance of the hotel as we could manage, we sauntered down
the ramp in new overalls, tool kit slung casually over shoulder.
Yeah? Whaddaya want? The man s shaven, sunburnt head merged into a matching thick neck
and disappeared into dark blue overalls a size too small. Tufts of red hair sprouted from nostrils,
ears and neck. He was tall, wide, suspicious, and our first setback. I d imagined that, dressed as
repair men, we would be able to saunter in unopposed, case the joint, decide on a plan of action,
and&
Sink blockage on the second floor. How did Jon come up with such brilliant ideas?
Who are ya?
Sunboy s Plumbing. A woman rang. Said she couldn t get the usual bloke.
What woman? What s her name?
Who?
The woman who phoned you?
Didn t ask.
Mrs Robinson?
We shrugged in unison.
Hang on while I phone her. He turned towards his telephone.
We scuttled, and drove a couple of blocks.
Plan B?
Plan B.
I changed into my by now slightly rumpled white suit, Jon into casual trousers, crisp white shirt
and discount-store designer cap. The guests part of the hotel was even more splendid than I d
imagined. Creamy stone balustrades, polished brass, liveried footmen, polished wood, a stretch limo
in the driveway, elegant patrons sipping wine and coffee on elegant furniture under the elegant
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