Дональд Уэстлейк - Forever and a Death

Nodding, Brevizin said, “It might. But we’re a long way from you and Robert Bendix and industrial espionage.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go along with him,” Manville said. “I told him I didn’t want Kim to die.”

“Kim. You knew this woman?”

“We met this week, after the event. What happened was, Mr. Curtis and the people investing with him in Kanowit Island — that’s where we were — they helicoptered off on Wednesday. Wednesday night, I found out from the ship’s captain that he’d been ordered to slow us down so we could go past Moreton Island late at night, so some people could come aboard to kill the two of us. We managed to get away, and now Mr. Curtis is afraid we’ll go to the authorities, so he made that charge of his own first. Ruin my credibility before I say anything.”

“It should work,” Brevizin said. “I don’t suppose you have any evidence, any proof, any signed confessions?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Manville said, and sounded as though he really was. Too worried, in other words, to have much sense of humor.

Brevizin said, “Well, do you have anything that would serve to substantiate your story?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Manville said. “I don’t have much. I have my own reputation, over the years. Kim and I both tell the same story, and we never knew one another before this week. And the Mallory , the ship we were on, might still be in harbor here. It lost a launch as a result of the business with us, they won’t be able to sail until they replace it.”

“The Mallory ,” Brevizin said, and made his first note of the meeting.

“Since I don’t know this man Bendix,” Manville said, “I can’t think why he’d say I tried to sell him anything.”

“He and Curtis could be friends,” Brevizin said, dismissing it. “That aspect doesn’t bother me.”

“Tell me what bothers you,” Manville said. “If it’s something I know anything about, I’ll tell you.”

“I believe you’re probably accurate about Curtis’s finances,” Brevizin said, “and I can make a few calls after this meeting to confirm. I find it hard to believe that any businessman, legitimate businessman, would send out killers to murder two people. Hard, but not impossible. I believe, if I check into it, a ship called Mallory will be in harbor here, missing a launch. I believe it is possible you were framed, for the purpose of shutting you up. I believe it is also possible that everything you’ve said is the invention of a desperate man who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

“It could look that way,” Manville agreed, “I know that.”

“Unfortunately,” Brevizin said, “if I choose to believe your story, then I must also believe you don’t have the answer to what’s still most troubling me. Which is, what does Curtis plan to do that’s illegal and dangerous, and when does he plan to do it? And, come to think of it, where? Here?”

“You’re right, that’s the part I don’t know,” Manville said. “I’m sorry. I get the impression it might have something to do with Hong Kong, but only because those are the people he blames for his troubles. And even if that’s right, I don’t know what the plan is.”

“And it must be intended to happen fairly soon,” Brevizin pointed out, “if it would be before Planetwatch got over the legal embarrassment of negligently causing the death of one of their own divers.”

“Oh, yes,” Manville said, “I’m sure it’s soon. I don’t think that house of cards of his can last very much longer.”

“All right,” Brevizin said, “conditionally I believe you. I should probably advise you to turn yourself in to the authorities, to let me begin the legal process, but that would leave your friend Kim alone, and if someone has tried to kill her before they might try again.”

“I think so, too,” Manville said.

“Do you want to tell me where you’re keeping yourselves?”

“Down on the Gold Coast.”

“Good God. Can you stand it?”

“For a while,” Manville said.

“Then you’ll have to stand it for the weekend,” Brevizin told him. “There’s nothing more to be done today. I’ll talk to some people, look into the situation. Assuming I don’t run across anything that suggests you’re a really accomplished liar and fantasist, you should ring me Monday morning at... eleven o’clock.”

“I will. Do you want to meet Kim? She’s three blocks from here, in one of the street cafes on the Mall.”

“Monday will do,” Brevizin told him. “I’ll probably want you to bring her with you then.”

“She wanted to make a phone call of her own,” Manville said. “To this guy Jerry Diedrich, from Planetwatch. They have an office down in Sydney, she thinks she can find him through there. I said I’d ask you, and she’ll call him if you say okay.”

“I don’t see why not,” Brevizin said, “if only on the concept that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Diedrich is unlikely to betray either of you to Richard Curtis.”

“Very unlikely,” Manville agreed.

“And Planetwatch,” Brevizin went on, “no matter how much they might irritate my clients and me in other contexts, they do have an organization and they might be of help to you.” Brevizin rose, and reached across the coffee table to shake Manville’s hand. “Keep out of sight over the weekend,” he advised, “and ring me Monday.”

“I will. And thank you, Mr. Brevizin, you’ve given me hope.”

“Not too much hope, please,” Brevizin cautioned. “Not yet.”

Kim sat over her second cappuccino, now long cold, and watched the pedestrians surge endlessly by. It was as though two giant machines, just out of sight, one at each end of the Mall, kept spewing these people out, in their amazing diversity, and sent them striding or strolling forward along the Mall, finally to be gobbled up again by the machine at the other end, altered into new sizes and shapes, and pushed back out to do the same thing the other way.

The Mall was two long blocks of Queen Street, here in the heart of Brisbane, where motor traffic was not permitted. Stores and restaurants filled the buildings along the way, upstairs as well as down, and spilled out into open-air cafes like the one where Kim sat and waited for George to finish with the lawyer. Shoppers and tourists and simple strollers filled the Mall from end to end, as crowded and noisy and lively as the streets of the Gold Coast, but more upscale.

Kim wondered how much longer George would be. He’d left her forty Australian dollars, so she could go on ordering cappuccino forever, but that lost its charm eventually. Also, the Ace bandage, around her torso again, was beginning to feel too tight, and starting to itch; she’d love to be back in the little room in Surfers Paradise, comfortably naked. With George. She sighed, looked around at the people at the other tables here in the cafe — couples or families, she the only single — then looked out again at the schools of passersby, and saw the killer.

It was him. He walked with two other men she’d never seen before, he in the middle, talking intently, they listening intently, and she recognized him at once. She’d never forget that man, or how he’d looked when he’d taunted George, asking if he could shoot a human being, saying George couldn’t do it, and then George did it.

Of course he’s here. Brisbane is where the Mallory was coming, and the Mall is where everybody in Brisbane walks sooner or later. But why now ? Why not half an hour from now, when I’m gone from here?

Kim looked down at her trembling hands in her lap, hoping to seem like someone searching in a handbag for a tissue or change or whatever, hoping the man would just keep moving by, keep on with his intense conversation, pay no attention to the world around him, and when she looked up she stared directly into his eyes. The three of them had stopped out there, like a rocky island in the sea of pedestrians, and they were all staring at her.