Peter Corris - Taking Care of Business

We hired an Avis Commodore and drove to Hawthorn, where Charlie said Rog was working as a waiter while finishing his law degree.

‘Stayed in touch, has he?’

Charlie nodded. ‘In a manner of speaking.’

It must have been a strange manner because when we walked into the smart cafe, all potted plants and smoked glass, the tall young man with the curly fair hair wearing a long apron dropped the tray he was carrying. Glass shattered and a fat man emerged from the back of the place to make angry noises in Italian. The people at the three occupied tables looked up interested, as if it was a floor show.

Charlie went into action. He shepherded the man, who had to be Rog, towards me.

‘Don’t let him run off,’ he said. He took out his wallet and laid what had to be at least a hundred dollars on the fat man. They negotiated.

‘You’re Roger, right?’ I steered him to a table and pressed him down onto a chair.

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’m working for Charlie.’

‘What does he want?’

‘He wants you to come back to Sydney and help him with some legal problems.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘He is, and so am I.’

Rog was a transparent type and I could almost see the cogs turning and the gears engaging. He’d been frightened at first, that was clear. Now he was calculating. Charlie joined us.

“lo, Rog.’

‘Charles.’

‘Charlie, Rog, I’ve loosened up. I’ve made it sweet with your boss. No problems.’

Rog didn’t speak.

‘I could use your help. Stefan’s on the warpath.’

Rog shook his head. ‘I like it here. Plus I’m enrolled at Monash and-’

‘I’d make it worth your while. Consultancy. You could transfer to Macquarie, say, and you wouldn’t have to wash dishes.’

‘Fuck you, Charles.’ Rog sprang up and walked away. I made a move to go after him but Marriott shook his head.

‘What did I tell you? He’s terrified of Stefan.’

‘I could do with a coffee. You?’

‘Latte.’

I went to the counter. A young punk woman was attending the espresso machine and she was wide-eyed at the goings-on, though trying not to show it.

‘A latte and a flat white.’ I slipped out one of my business cards and passed it across with a ten dollar note.

‘Give the card to Rog when you get a chance, would you?’

She loved it. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, and put some extra zip into flying the machine.

We sat over the coffees longer than they deserved. Charlie said there were business things he could attend to in Melbourne for a couple of days and that being out of reach of Stefan and Rudi had to be good. I agreed.

‘Get to know the town, Cliff,’ he said. ‘I’ll book us into the Lygon Lodge. You might want to open a branch office one of these days.’

He was taking the piss and I didn’t like it but I let it pass.

Melbourne had improved since I’d last been there. It looked and felt better-more light, less shade. The people looked happier.

Rog rang me on my mobile on the second night.

‘Are you alone, Mr Hardy?’

I was tempted to use the Jack Nicholson line from Chinatown but I resisted. ‘Charlie’s off schmoozing to some people about digital something or other. You can talk to me, Rog.’

‘Can I?’

‘You must want to, and I know there’s something wrong about Charlie.’

‘Can I trust you?’

‘I could give you some numbers to ring, but why not take a chance?’

‘Zoe liked you and she’s a good judge of character.’

‘So?’

‘He’s a very dangerous man.’

‘Yes?’

‘Obviously, I don’t know what he’s told you, but I think he’s responsible for the death of one of the partners in Solomon Solutions.’

‘That’d be Steve?’

‘Stephen Lucca, yes. What’s Charles said about that?’

‘I can’t discuss it, Rog. He’s my client, but I’ll be interested in whatever you have to say.’

His laugh was bitter. ‘That’d make a change. Neither Mark nor Stefan listened to me. Oh, they both knew that Charles was mad, but he was brilliant at what he does, still is I suppose, and they needed him more than they needed Steve or me.’

He was sounding a bit panicky and I was anxious not to lose him. ‘I’m listening. Look, have you got any evidence for these suspicions?’

‘You sound like a policeman.’

‘I’m not. I’m struggling to understand what goes on in this computer business and I need some help. Did you know Solomon Solutions is going to be floated?’

‘Everyone knows that.’

Like all closed societies, the computer buffs and their satellites had the belief that everyone knew what they knew and that what they didn’t know didn’t matter.

‘Charlie seems to think that his partners are trying to squeeze him out.’

‘I doubt it. I think I’ve said all I have to say.’

‘And I appreciate it. One more thing, the cop question again-evidence?’

He sounded tired and wrung out. His sigh was like a final gust of wind as a storm dies. ‘Only what Steve told me. He said that Charles was having him followed, tracking his movements. That’s it. Goodbye.’

He hung up. As always when a problem looms, the first thing I thought about was a drink, and the Lygon Lodge did a good mini-bar. But these days I fight the urge up to a point, and instead I went for a walk through Carlton. It was cold and windy but there was no rain and the strollers and diners and tourists were out in force. You could eat food from the four corners of the world in a couple of blocks and fill a house with ornaments and paintings and books. I kept my hands in my pockets and just window-shopped, like a lot of the other people on the street.

When I got back to the motel, Marriott was waiting for me with his door open. He was pale and agitated as he beckoned me in.

‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Walking.’

‘You’re supposed to be my bodyguard.’

‘You said you’d be safe down here in Melbourne.’

‘Safe? Shit! I’m not safe anywhere.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ve had threatening phone calls. I know they’re from Rudi. We’re booked to fly back tomorrow. I think he knows when.’

‘How could he?’

It appeared that he’d been at the mini-bar, well and truly. I could see two empty Johnnie Walkers and two Beefeaters and at a guess he had a slug of Stoli over ice in the glass he was waving.

‘You don’t know anything! There’re ways. You just have to know the codes, and Stefan would. We’ll go back via Adelaide. That’ll throw them.’

I shrugged. ‘You’re the boss.’

Suddenly, his bad-teeth smile was smug. The threatening phone calls were apparently forgotten and I had to wonder if they’d ever happened.

‘That’s right. I’m the boss. But we’re mates, too, right? Sorry I was stroppy, Cliff. I’m under pressure.’

Aren’t we all? I thought, but I just nodded and moved towards the door.

He took a step closer to the bed and picked up the TV remote control. ‘I think I’ll watch a movie. Goodnight, Cliff. It’s nine thirty from Tullamarine. Pretty civilised. Hop into your mini-bar, why don’t you? It’s all on Solomon bloody Solutions.’

I gave him a thumbs-up, clinked my keys in my hand and left the room. Charles Marriott might have been a computer wizard and an ace birdwatcher, but he was no actor. No one who’d drunk what he appeared to have drunk, judging from the empties, could have moved as he did when he skirted round the bed and picked up the remote control.

You’re a dangerous man, Charles, I thought as I headed for my room. But dangerous to who-or was that whom?

We flew back via Adelaide and Charlie spent a lot of time on his mobile during the break between planes. He didn’t tell me who he was calling and I didn’t ask. On the flight to Sydney, he got stuck into the complimentary champagne. When I thought he was sufficiently loosened up, I asked him whether I ought to talk to Stefan and Mark.