Flank Street Read online

  ‘We? What do you mean, we? I didn’t smack the bar with his face.’

  ‘Someone needed to and I was closest, that’s all. Now tell me about Kurt Reed. What do you know about him?’ I poured shots and handed her one. She slammed it in one hit. I followed and poured again.

  ‘Shit!’ She shuddered as the second shot hit her stomach. ‘Okay.’ She paused and lit up. ‘There are three of them.’ She dragged hard. ‘Kurt, Loretto, and I think the other one is Martin, but I’ve never seen him. Just heard his name mentioned. They run clubs and drugs out west—’

  ‘Where out west?’

  ‘I don’t know—just past West Bumfuck. I don’t know where they are, Micky. Just out west is all I know.’

  ‘You never went out there with him?’

  ‘No way; I wasn’t with him that long. It just seemed like forever. It’s hard to explain simply. There are three... gangs, I guess you’d call them. There are the Reeds, who are small-time.’ She flicked ash, exhaled smoke through her nose. ‘Do you remember a few days ago, there was a big, well dressed guy in here with Ray-who-looks-like-a-bulldog?’

  ‘Sure. He seemed to be Mr Big of that mob.’

  ‘He is. That’s Gary Mitchell, Ray’s boss, and a kind of freelancer, from what I know. He’s like Mr Logistics for shady underworld types. He’s often around the clubs, and I’ve seen him with Brookes a few times in places like Ronnie’s, which is where a lot of the heavyweights hang out.’

  ‘So does he work for Brookes?’

  ‘I dunno. He’s got his own guys, like Ray and those two Islander boys, so I guess he’s like a contractor.’

  ‘Brookes?’

  She crushed the butt of the Camel. ‘The King. He owns or controls lots of the clubs and bars, probably including this one. The drug distribution is his too. He controls heaps of bent coppers, cabbies, hookers, slots. You name something around here that turns a buck and his hand is on it.’

  I poured two more shots, slid one across to her, and tossed mine down. She followed, shuddered, and lit another smoke.

  ‘The Cross is full of stories about him, and what he’s done or had done, most of it bullshit... probably.’

  ‘How do we find out if he owns this place?’

  ‘Don’t go asking questions that’ll get you compacted. Leave it alone.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  The look in her eyes said bloody liar.

  ‘Why do you think Ray comes in every week for a few hours?’

  She sighed heavily. ‘Maybe he’s thirsty.’

  ‘Maybe he’s collecting?’

  ‘You’ve been watching too many movies.’ She tucked her legs up on the sofa. ‘Look, I’ll tell you this just so your curiosity’s satisfied, and then leave it alone. Okay?’

  I gave her a broad smile, sat beside her, pulled her right foot onto my lap, and started massaging the story out of her.

  She gave me a sardonic forced grin. ‘Lenny only owns this place on paper. He’s a clean front for Brookes. Although Brookes controls lots of clubs, he only legally owns a few of them. He’ll buy a place, or take it as payment for a debt, then put a Lenny in as front man.’ She stopped and looked at me to make sure I was following.

  I was way ahead.

  ‘Once a week, Ray comes in to collect. Sometimes Sonny comes for him, but Ray likes to be hands-on.’

  ‘I bet he does. Who does the handover?’

  ‘Usually me. Lenny’ll do it if he wants to talk with Ray.’

  I wondered why I’d never seen it. I guessed I hadn’t been looking. I swapped feet and asked, ‘Who’s Pinklips? Is she part of it?’

  ‘She’s new. She only came on the scene about the same time as you did. I guess he’s just fucking her. Poor choice, though.’ She laid back, put a pillow under her head, and waggled her toes for more. ‘He had this good-looking woman before; classy sort of escort, I think she was. God knows why he swapped her for that slapper.’

  ‘Men are fickle creatures.’

  ‘Most are fickle arseholes.’

  ‘Unless they give great foot massages, right?’

  ‘Hmm, keep going; I’ll let you know.’

  I did, and so did she.

  Lenny called the following morning. He said he’d sorted it, at least as far as the bar was concerned. Neither Fish nor Kurt Reed would come and make trouble there, but I was to watch my back on the street. It was a fair warning, and one I took seriously.

  Stella came in at eleven. When she was set up, I left and took a cab to the boat. The air inside was musty. It was weeks since I’d been there and I felt guilty for letting her get that way. I picked up the switchblade I’d always kept by the chart table. When I slid the safety off and pressed the button, the blade flew forward and locked with a satisfying snick. The edge was still razor sharp and clean. I closed and locked it, and stuffed it into my back pocket. I found some anti-chafe leather in the back of one locker, some fishing weights in another, and used them to make a sap. If Fish or his mates came for me, I would at least be prepared.

  Carol

  When Ray walked into the bar the following Friday, I took up a position at the gate so I could easily see Meagan coming and going.

  As usual, Ray sat at a table and another guy, who I hadn’t seen before, came to the bar. I watched as Meagan served him, but there was no handover, nothing said other than ordering and serving drinks. He was a tough-looking guy with a long scar running down his face from eye to chin. His expressionless eyes appeared to take nothing in. Most guys flirted a bit with Meagan, but not this one. He took the drinks and sat at the table with Ray. Neither man spoke; they just sat and looked as if waiting for someone.

  They left half an hour later after two drinks. Meagan hadn’t left the bar. I looked at her quizzically. She grinned back triumphantly.

  I went and stood beside her as she took glasses out of the washer. ‘Did you?’

  ‘Aha.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Look more closely next week,’ she said with a self-satisfied grin.

  I let it go. I knew she wouldn’t tell me then, if at all.

  I was getting close to making some kind of contact with the underworld. There were at least two guys I was getting to know, and one woman about my age who was growing friendlier as time passed. I’d seen her talking with Ray and the Islanders, who, were clearly part of the core underworld. She also looked the type, if that makes sense. Smart, confident, and sexy; she’d always come in on her own, which said something about her in an area like The Cross. I didn’t think she was on the game. She dressed and spoke well, and had the air of somebody who was used to managing others: not bossy, but self-assured. She drank Jameson on ice and smoked B&H Gold.

  She came in that night after eleven, sat at the bar and lit up. I made her usual and stood it in front of her.

  ‘Thanks, Micky.’ Her voice was soft and smoky.

  ‘You’re in late tonight. Movie?’

  She hesitated, took a sip of her drink, and then pulled on her cigarette.

  ‘Yes. How’d you guess?’ She fiddled with her gold lighter, sliding it back and forth through slim fingers topped with perfectly manicured blood red nails. ‘Have you seen any good ones lately?’

  ‘I don’t get time nowadays,’ I said. ‘I’m always in here.’

  ‘Lenny doesn’t give you a night off once in a while?’

  ‘He’s a hard boss.’

  ‘Maybe you need a new boss. That way you could have a social life as well.’

  ‘You know, I’ve been thinking that same thing. I like it here, but—’

  ‘But there’s more to life, or some other old cliché. Right?’

  I laughed. ‘Right.’

  ‘So what else do you do, Micky?’

  Her voice was low and suggestive, or that’s how I read it. I didn’t know if she was giving me the come-on, or if that was just her way.

  ‘I do what pays well and interests me. If you hear of anything local that might suit me, let me know and I’ll owe y
ou dinner—or a movie.’

  She held my eyes, making me feel awkward.

  ‘What did you see tonight?’ I asked to break the silence.

  She gave me a timid grin from below seductive eyes. ‘Dances With Wolves—and don’t laugh.’

  I did, and then so did she.

  ‘It was that or Miller’s Crossing, and that was... well, not the right thing for tonight.’

  ‘You know, if I’m taking you out to dinner, I should at least know your name.’

  She looked at me as if trying to decide whether to tell me or not, and then pushed her glass towards me.

  ‘Same again, Micky.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘It’s Carol,’ she said to my back.

  I poured her drink, turned to face her, and she avoided my eyes.

  ‘I heard that you pissed off Kurt Reed.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’

  ‘I just overheard it.’

  I laid the glass in front of her. ‘One of his louts was out of line, so I threw him out. It was nothing.’

  ‘So you didn’t bash his face on the bar?’

  I could see Meagan throwing glances at me from the other end. I ignored them, knowing I’d cop it later.

  ‘What else did you hear?’

  ‘Just that.’ Her voice was soft and, somehow, sad, as if mentioning it had brought back bad memories.

  There was nothing to be gained by dragging it out, so I changed gear. ‘Why does a classy looking woman like you come into a dump like Frankie’s?’

  ‘Maybe I come in here to see you.’ Her face held a faint smile. I didn’t know whether it was affectation or amusement. ‘Tonight I did come in to see you. To warn you that it’s not over between you and Kurt Reed. You need to watch your back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it will come: sooner rather than later.’

  ‘I meant, why warn me?’ She sipped her drink and looked down the bar at Meagan.

  ‘She fancies you, you know. That’s something else to be careful of.’

  I started to wonder if she was playing me, whether she was a honey-trap sent in by Reed to lure me to some apartment or alley where I’d taste a length of pipe instead of her lips.

  ‘Is it just my welfare you’re interested in, or is there something else on your mind?’

  ‘Both. But this isn’t the place to talk about it.’

  ‘You want to go upstairs where it’s private?’

  She looked at me without speaking for several seconds, then slid a card from her purse and laid it on the bar.

  She left without another word, her drink unfinished and her cigarette still burning in the ashtray. I palmed the card as I picked up the glass, hoping Meagan hadn’t seen it. There was no loyalty issue. I just didn’t want questions about a thing I knew nothing about. The card had just a phone number below her name, ‘Carol’.

  I called her the next day, after Stella arrived and took the bar. The call was brief, just long enough to agree to meet at a café on Circular Quay later that afternoon. My curiosity was piqued by what she said and didn’t say the previous night. The card screamed high-end prostitute or escort, and it fitted in with what little I knew about her, which was that she hung around goons and frequented bars in a red light district. Moreover, she had that air about her. She knew the power of her looks and sensuality, and I got the feeling she was used to using them to get want she wanted. Part of me said rip the card and forget her. Serve her drinks if she comes in and that’s as far as it goes. The other part of me had other ideas.

  I changed into half-decent clothes, pocketed the sap and switchblade, and headed to town. There were still three hours before we were due to meet, but I was edgy and suspicious, and wanted to get away from work and have time to scope out the café.

  The Quay was packed with people milling around looking for ferries or somewhere to eat lunch. I soon found the café and walked past a couple of times looking for anything that didn’t fit. To kill time, I walked round to the Opera House and looked out across the harbour. The eighteen-foot skiffs were racing in a light northeast wind. I wished I was on the water instead of waiting to meet Carol Noname and looking over my shoulder for Kurt Reed and Fish. Fish I could handle; I’d just bash his face a few more times. Kurt Reed had a reputation and I didn’t even know what he looked like. He could be close to me now and I’d only know when it was too late. I kept walking and checking for a tail.

  Our meeting was at four o’clock. I sat at a table in the back corner of the café at three-thirty. I could see everyone come and go from there and nobody could come in behind me. I ordered a coffee and blueberry muffin from the waitress and sat back watching the crowd. I felt awkward sitting there alone doing nothing, and wished I’d at least bought a newspaper to read. I could also have hidden the sap in it, which was jammed into my front pocket.

  The waitress brought my order and laid it on the table with a polite smile. As she turned to leave there was the sound of a chair scraping across the concrete floor. I thought she must have caught it, but when I looked up, I saw Carol about to sit down. She’d got the jump on me.

  She touched the waitress’s arm and ordered mineral water, then turned to me and said, ‘You’re nice and early.’

  ‘I hate to keep a lady waiting.’ I tried to keep the sarcasm out of ‘lady’.

  ‘It’s always busy here,’ she said.

  ‘Is that why you choose it?’

  ‘Partly. I like it and I thought somewhere public would make you feel more secure.’

  ‘What do you want, Carol? You didn’t get me out here to enjoy the crowd. Say what’s on your mind.’ She looked at me, raised her eyebrows, and then took a sip of my coffee.

  ‘I want you to do a job for me. Is that straight enough?’

  I tried to read her face, but she gave nothing away: a natural poker player. What could this attractive, probably well-off woman want from me that she couldn’t get elsewhere?

  ‘I’ve already got a job. I work for Lenny.’

  ‘It was Lenny that suggested you. Look, Micky, Sydney might be a big city, but The Cross is a small community. You might think you’re anonymous, but you’re not. You come into town and work as a bar manager for ten bucks an hour, everyone knows you’re on the run or illegal.’

  ‘Maybe I’m just cheap.’

  ‘Maybe you’re full of shit too.’ She leaned forward, broke off a piece of muffin, and ate it with obvious pleasure. ‘Mmm. I love a good muffin.’ She looked me dead in the eye and dabbed her lips with a paper napkin, took a sip of water and said calmly, ‘No, Micky, you weren’t cheap. You were desperate for work and you chose The Cross to find it. That tells me, and others, that you are used to that environment. You sought out what was familiar, where you could survive, where you could make moves. Am I right?’

  ‘More muffin?’

  She didn’t answer, but slid a gold cigarette case out of her bag, removed two cigarettes and lit them together between pouting lips. She handed me one. The tip bore her red lips, which I could taste as I brought it to my own.

  ‘And there’s the incident with Fish who, by the way, is a total prick. You were quick to act. Decisive, and that’s what I need.’

  ‘I’m not muscle for hire. Anyway, I bet you can find plenty of that without coercing cheap barhops.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Let it drift. Tell me what you want, Carol.’ I leaned back and drank some coffee, waiting for her to speak. After eating more of my muffin, she said in a conversational tone, ‘I want you to steal something for me.’ I didn’t speak or react at all, just continued sipping coffee and waiting. ‘There’s no risk. I’ll tell you everything you need to know and pay you five thousand.’

  ‘And if I say no?’

  ‘Come on, Micky. If you really don’t want to do it, then we part and that’s that.’ She watched the passing crowd for a while and then turned back to me. ‘Lenny’s a friend of mine. When I said I needed a little job doing, he suggested that I
talk to you—’

  ‘Why not one of the hundred criminals you know?’

  ‘This has to be very discreet. I didn’t want to use someone who’s part of a local crew. If you take this on, nobody else will know.’

  ‘Just you, me, and Lenny: sounds real cosy. No thanks.’

  ‘Will you at least listen? Come on, Micky, indulge me.’ She had those pouty red lips again. I raised a hand to the waitress to get the bill.

  The first night that I went to The Cross, I was looking for an in, a way of earning big money without breaking my back. Working for Lenny was only ever a stopgap, a way to make underworld contacts. I just didn’t expect it to be a good-looking dame, and it was making me jumpy. I decided to hear her out.

  We left the café and walked towards The Rocks, an old tourist area beside the Quay. As we were passing the last ferry dock, I took her arm and guided her to the ticket booth. She didn’t protest when I bought two returns to Manly and steered her onto the ferry. I waited until we were underway before asking her what she had in mind. She seemed to be enjoying the ride. It was a fine day with a warm, gentle wind from the north-east; under any other circumstances, I’d be enjoying it too.

  ‘This was a good idea’ she said. ‘I haven’t been to Manly this way for years.’

  ‘The ferry ride is thirty minutes. Start your sales pitch.’

  ‘This isn’t a trap, Micky. You can relax.’

  ‘I’ll decide that. Who do you want to steal from? Is he one of your underworld friends? Because if he is, the answer is no.’

  ‘No. He’s ... a lawyer, a wealthy lawyer. All I want is a box that he keeps in his safe.’

  ‘Oh, that all? Why didn’t you say?’ I looked at the looming cliffs of North Head as we approached, buying time to think. ‘Carol... I’m not a bloody safecracker. Did Lenny know this is what you wanted?’

  ‘All Lenny knows is that I need a favour and it isn’t legal. I’ve told him nothing. And you don’t need to be a safecracker—’

  ‘No? So do you want me to beat it out of the poor schnook?’

  ‘He’s not poor, not a schnook, and I have the combination.’

  I looked at her, trying to reconcile what I saw and what I was hearing. Here was this woman, seemingly intelligent, externally attractive, but internally corrupt.