Free Wyatt - 03 - Death Deal by Garry Disher

Highway crosses
a channel there. Park your car somewhere, wait for me on the bridge. If I see
anything I dont like, thats it, Im gone.

    They settled on 3 am and Wyatt broke
the connection. He checked the fuel gauge: plenty to get him across the bay. By
two-thirty he was throttling back a few hundred metres from the Chelsea
foreshore. He could see streetlights and occasional headlights. By day Carrum
and Chelsea were parts of an endless strip of sunblighted, low-cost houses and
shopfronts. Wyatt knew and hated the area but right now it had the advantage of
a marina where he could moor the boat without drawing attention to himself.

    Thirty minutes later he was on dry
land and watching the bridge. At five minutes to three a battered white Toyota
van crept across the bridge. The words Food Delivery Vehicle were stencilled
on it and the rear windows had a blackness about them that had nothing to do
with the night. If Stolle used it as his surveillance vehicle, it was a good
one.

    Wyatt waited. He saw the van draw
off the road and into a parking bay. Stolle got out and walked to the centre of
the bridge. He did not look around and he gave no sign that he was nervous or
had brought backup along. Wyatt let ten minutes and a handful of late cruising
taxis and panel vans go by, then stepped out of his cover and onto the bridge.

    Stolle swung around at his approach.
This had better be on the level. I didnt come here to be thumped and robbed
again.

    Shut up, Wyatt said. I hope you
didnt bring those two clowns along with you.

    Mostyns off the case and Whitney cleared
out on me.

    Wyatt said, Good, and walked off
without waiting. Stolle caught up with him next to the van. Where to?

    Your place.

    Stolle said nothing to that. He
unlocked the van, got in, opened the passenger door for Wyatt. He drove in
silence back along the Nepean toward the city. At St Kilda Junction he headed
north along Punt Road and right into the cramped streets of renovated workers
cottages in Prahran. A minute later he picked up a small electronic device,
pushed a button, and light spilled onto the cobblestones from a garage door in
an alley ahead of them. Stolle drove in, pushed the button again. The garage
door clanged, sealing them off from the night.

    Stolle had a little pistol in his
fist. Get out.

    You wont need that.

    Get out.

    Wyatt waited for him at the door
that led to the house. He let Stolle prod him with the gun into the kitchen and
then through to a room at the front. Stolle had spent some time and money on
the place: thick woollen carpets, central heating, expensive fabrics on the
chairs and over the windows.

    Stolles front room had the look of
an underused office. The furniture smelt new; there was dust on the screen of
his Apple. He shoved Wyatt in the back. Have a seat.

    There was an armchair and an
ergonomic desk chair. Wyatt collapsed into the armchair. He realised how tired
he was and a series of tendon-stretching yawns broke out in him suddenly.
Stolle grinned at him, swivelling back and forth on the rotating seat of the
desk chair.

    God knows what she sees in you.

    Who?

    The client. On the run, fresh out
of luck and friends, you dont exactly inspire confidence.

    Wyatt yawned again. I want to see
the five thousand.

    Stolle lost his grin. After a while
he nodded and reached his right hand into his left sleeve. Wyatt heard a snap
of elastic on flesh and then Stolle was throwing him a small packet.

    He caught it with both hands. He
knew at once that it contained less than five thousand dollars. He riffled the
notes with his thumb: ten one-hundred dollar notes, torn cleanly in half.

    This was stupid. He felt too weary
to fight it. He shook his head, dropped the half notes on the floor.

    Stolle reached into an inside pocket
of his jacket. This time it was an envelope with a key in it. Brisbane bus station
locker key. Theres four thousand dollars waiting for you. The other half of
the money on the floor youll get when were on the