Wyatt - 03 - Death Deal (24 page)

With the help of a fifty dollar
note. Theyre not well paid here. Management told them theyd get rich on tips
but the big spenders dont like to tip.

What story did you give her?

Anna laughed, twisting her head
around to look up at his face. I got the idea from Stolle himself. I said I
was a private detective hired by his wife to gather proof about his level of
income and spending for a divorce settlement.

Some expense account, accommodation
at the Flamingo.

They had less than a thousand
dollars left of the money that Wyatt had pocketed in Nurses vault. They had
left Brisbane with three thousand and spent one thousand quickly buying a
haircut for Anna and the kinds of luggage and clothing that would get them into
the Flamingo. And a thousand for suite 506, two floors directly above Stolles.
The balcony looked out on cliffs, marinas and curving yellow sand, but they
werent there for the view.

Wyatts hand was ceaseless, down her
long, supple spine to the backs of her thighs and slipping between them. Anna
raised her rump and arched her back and reached under with her hand to find
his. She clamped it where she wanted it until their hands were moving together,
a ten-fingered hand pressing and probing. She said she wanted him inside her,
straightaway, as she was, and he moved around on his knees, then forward and it
was easy, a kind of gliding release.

She was the first to speak
afterwards, leaning over him on her elbow when he was close to sleep: He doesnt
keep it in his room.

He snapped awake. She saw his open
eyes and went on: The hotel provides safety deposit boxes. The girl on the
desk said Stolle was always going to his to buy more chips. Are you up to
another raid, guns blazing?

He shook his head.

She flopped onto her back, fitting
her flank to his. How are we going to do it, then?

They drifted into sleep. Wyatt woke
again and this time he was clear and focused. We get him to take the money out
for us.

She mumbled. Her eyes were closed,
her lips parted slightly. Not all of the strain had left her face, and her hair
was very short now, like a cap on her skull, so that she looked small and
drawn. He showered and dressed, letting her sleep.

She awoke while he was examining the
lock. What are you doing?

He didnt answer. He poked his head
into the corridor, saw that it was deserted, and began to work at the mechanism
with his locksmiths picks. He gave up. The Flamingo had installed tricky locks
in its doors, a deterrent to hotel thieves. It would take too long to break
into Stolles room. He shut the door, Anna watching, thinking it through with
him.

The balcony.

He nodded.

It was almost 5 pm, the sun sliding
toward the hinterland horizon. They took a bus several kilometres to the Oasis
Shopping Resort in the most garish part of the Gold Coast and bought leather
work gloves, latex gloves, one pair of overalls, rope and a climbers harness.

At the hotel again, Wyatt waited in
their room while Anna talked to her informant. She came back. Stolles in the
International Room and has been most of the day. Apparently thats been the
pattern all week. Hell stop for dinner at eight, and resume playing again at
nine.

Dinner, a few drinkshell be
sluggish by nine.

What now?

He picked up the phone. We type the
note.

Ten minutes later there was a knock
at the door and a maid delivered a portable typewriter in a carrying case. Anna
typed while Wyatt dictated.

You bastard, he said. I saw
Mostyn before he left and he told me what the deal was. We need to talk. Im at
the Sunset Strip, on the Esplanade in central Surfers. Room 101. Whitney.

Her fingers clacked over the keys. Will
this work?

It will seem plausible. Mostyn and
Whitney used to work together, then Whitney cleared outStolle told me so
himself. Hell think Whitney followed Mostyn up here, saw what happened, and
decided to put the squeeze on him. Stolle pulled a chancy hijack that happened
to pay off, but he left too many loose ends behind and now hes losing and he
feels far from home. Im betting hes skating close to the edge. Hell run.

Three hours. Wyatt took Anna out
onto the balcony and showed her how to use his picks on the sliding glass door.
When she was proficient she said, Enough, stripping him and taking him to the
bed.

At nine oclock she rang the desk.
Stolle had returned to the International Room. They dressed and Wyatt opened
the balcony door. A quarter moon and heavy cloud cover. He leaned on the
railing and looked down the black wall. Spotlights illuminated other hotels and
apartment blocks in the area but the Flamingo didnt draw that kind of attention
to itself.

He turned back into the room. Anna
had drawn the overalls on over a black cocktail dress and was shrugging her
shoulders into the harness. He tightened the straps for her, tied the rope to
the metal rings.

Got the picks?

She patted the pouchy front pocket
of the overalls.

Lets do it.

She climbed over the balcony and
waited while he wound the rope between the bars of the railing and fastened the
other end. Then he took up the slack, braced his foot and said, Okay.

He played the rope through his
gloved hands half a metre at a time. Within two minutes the rope went slack. He
tugged, felt a return tug, and looked over. Anna was waving to him from Stolles
balcony. A minute later she tugged again and he hauled in the rope hand over hand.
The overalls and his set of picks were bundled at the end of it. She was in.

He took the stairs to the third
floor. Outside Stolles door he knocked three times, then once. Anna opened the
door and he slipped by her into the room. Her colour was high, her eyes alight.
It was easy.

He took an envelope from his pocket.
The words Mr Macarthur Stolle were typed on it. Now you deliver this.

Wyatt searched Stolles room while
she was gone. Some clothing, a suitcase, little else, confirmation that the
money was in the safety deposit box downstairs.

Anna knocked, their prearranged
signal. Wyatt let her in. Okay?

Very posh. A young man in a white
tuxedo delivered it on a silver tray. I stayed long enough to see Stolle come
out and go straight to his safety deposit box.

Wyatt flicked off the light. Not
long now.

Where do you want me?

Behind the door.

And when hes on the bed, I tape
his wrists and ankles.

Wyatt said, Yep.

His tone sounded wrong to her. Wyatt,
is that what you want me to do?

Thats what I want you to do.

She was silent. They waited. Less
than a minute later, Stolles key scraped in the lock. The tumblers fell inside
it, the door opened, and Stolle came in, an odour of tension and expensive
cigars clinging to him. He was carrying a leather slipcase and Wyatt grabbed
it, kicked the door shut, and dug the end of his .38 under Stolles jaw. The
force of it bent Stolles head up and he choked.

Wyatt stepped back from him, easing
the pressure. Without taking his eyes from Stolle, he held the slipcase behind
his back, felt Anna take it from him.

Sit, he said, propelling Stolle
back toward an armchair. He punched the man hard, doubling him over into the
chair.

Wyatt, Anna said, a warning note.

Wyatt ignored her. The killing was
quick. While Stolle fought for breath he was virtually helpless. Wyatt fitted
his gun into Stolles right hand, angled it between Stolles teeth and pulled
the trigger. Stolle jumped once and his legs trembled for some time as he died.

* * * *

Forty-three

Anna
pulled on Wyatts arm. You didnt have to do that.

Yes I did.

Wyatt stood looking at Stolle,
seeing him with a cops eyes. Wyatt had got powder residue on his own hand but
there would be enough on Stolles. The angle indicated suicide. He turned, took
the slipcase from Anna. The money still had the TrustBanks paper bands around
it. He took out a bundle of fifties, removed most of the notes from it, dropped
the rest in their paper wrapper on the floor by Stolles feet. There were question
marks but a suicide explained away most of them. Stolle had lost almost all of
the stolen money at the gaming tables. Then hed lost heart and shot himself.

Wyatt turned to Anna. We cant stay
here. Lets go.

She was holding herself for comfort,
staring at the body. You meant to do that all along.

Hes a killer, Wyatt said.

What does that make you?

He took her arm. Come on.

They went back to their room. She
wouldnt let go of the shock. You didnt have to kill him.

Wyatt cupped her small head in his
hands. He found me when nobody else could. He would have found me again. You
too.

She dropped her eyes. He felt her
warm cheeks move in his palms as she nodded acceptance. He released her. Lets
see what weve got.

They sat on the bed a metre apart
and Anna tipped the money into the gap between them. He watched her count it,
the tendons working in her slender fingers and knew a sense of loss.

She said, avoiding his face, How
much did you say you got away with?

One strongbox, about a quarter of a
million.

Theres less than half of it left.
A hundred and five thousand.

They looked at the money, not each
other. After a while Wyatt heard Anna say:

They want you but they dont know
who you are and they dont have prints to tie you to any of this. Methey have
my picture, my prints, theyre in a frenzy out there because I walked out of
their precious prison.

Yes.

Theres nowhere I can go, is there,
Wyatt? Not here, at least. Id always be looking over my shoulder. Id be a
liability to you.

Her hand closest to his was
restlessly sifting and sorting among the banknotes. He closed his big fingers
around it and at once it went slack and boneless.

You got me out of prison but Ill
never know exactly why. Do you know exactly why?

He couldnt go on holding that dead
hand. He let it go and for a while she left it on the coverlet between them.

Ive always led a chancy life.
Never the straight and narrow. Id always thought I had your kind of nerve and
calculation. She shook her head. I dont.

Then she was looking at him, a sad
face. Ill learn it now, on the run. The thing is, you never learnt it, its
what you are, so Id never be like you.

Wyatt tried one last useless thing. Well
build you a new identity, the person youd like to be, with interests youd
like to have. Ill disappear two or three times a year for a week, a month, and
come home again and you need never know the details.

She laughed; she gripped his hand. Wyatt,
the little wife? No. She went sombre again. No. Always looking over my
shoulder. I cant stay here.

He knew she meant more than that she
should get out of the hotel. Where?

Europe. There are people who can
get me that far.

Then she was pumping his arm for
emphasis. Wyatt, let me have the money. Ill need all of it.

He looked away and shortly after
that he said, Leave me five.

Five thousand dollars in the world.

A couple of days later, when she was
gone, somewhere in the Coral Sea aboard an islands steamer, he took the five
thousand dollars into Jupiters, a delay of his run south. Wyatt didnt believe
in good or bad luck but he thought that surely things had to get better from
this point.