Peter Corris - Master's mates

I slept soundly for a couple of hours and then was wide awake with a mildly buzzing head from the whisky. I dressed and crept around the familiar house in my socks. I drank several glasses of water with three aspirin and sat by the living-room window watching the day come to life. I opened the window and heard the seagulls on the beach and the hum of early morning traffic. I wondered where Lorrie was and what she was seeing and hearing. I knew she was tough, but confinement does strange things to the mind and some people never recover from it.

It had been a mistake to take her to the Balmain meeting. My judgement had been affected by the attraction I’d felt for her. The mistake had made her vulnerable, but North could probably have taken her from wherever she was. I wasn’t going to rack myself about that, but I wasn’t going to give myself good marks either. Again, I considered O’Connor’s role in the scheme of things. Had he been complicit? Had the guard at the hospital backed off too readily? That made me think of Hank Bachelor and his stun gun, probably now in police possession. Like the rest of Jay and Fay’s money. I could use some of that money now. I’d told Frank money was available but I hadn’t thought it through. Another thing for O’Connor to sort out.

The daylight had won the battle with the dark and the water and aspirin had put the headache to rest. I was thinking about eating when I heard the unmistakable sound of someone else in the house trying to be quiet. Frank came into the room wearing a dark blue nightshirt that reached just below his knees. He stopped when he saw me at the window.

‘Looks good on you, Frank,’ I said. ‘No buttons, no cord to lose.’

‘Hilde likes ‘em. Peter takes the piss of course. What’re you doing up this early?’

‘Raking it all over, what else? This could end badly, mate.’

‘Coffee?’

I nodded and went back to worrying. When Frank returned he handed me a mug and the warmth and smell of it lifted my mood a fraction.

‘One thing I forgot to tell you last night,’ Frank said. ‘Carmichael and Hammond are okay. You could bring them in.’

‘Thanks, Frank. That’s good news. Any tips for dealing with Black Andy?’

‘I understand he’s a lot smoother now, married to a judge and with all those legal connections.’

‘Hold on. He was married to some politician’s daughter. A fashion designer or something.’

Frank shook his head. ‘She finally left. No, he’s married to Mary Pappas. She’s-what’s wrong?’

The name had hit me like a short left hook. When I’d told Frank the story I hadn’t given him all the names. ‘Frank, tell me about these legal connections.’

‘Oh, his daughter from the first marriage, she’s married to John L’Estrange, the barrister, and-’

‘Jesus Christ. You’ve just named the judge and the prosecutor at Master’s trial. Black Andy must be in this up to his neck.’

‘I’ve never heard that Pappas is… flexible, but… She’s a hardliner, sure, but I don’t know about corrupt.’

‘She doesn’t need to be. It was mounted as a legitimate undercover federal and state operation, except that there was another agenda.’

Frank absorbed that as he stroked his grey bristled chin. ‘No wonder Black Andy wanted to talk to you. This puts a different slant on it. If he’s in on it with North and the others.’

‘What was your impression?’

‘It’s hard to say with those bastards. Like I said, I thought they were worried about this uncontrolled shipment, but now I’m not sure. Let me think for a minute. I’m hungry. Want something to eat?’

‘About four slices of buttered toast.’

‘Brain food. Come on.’

We went out to the kitchen and Frank loaded the toaster and topped up the coffee mugs.

‘I hope you’re thinking,’ I said. ‘This just about stymies me.’

The toaster popped and he buttered the toast. ‘I recorded the conversations. Let me just play a few of them back and I’ll listen to them again with this stuff in mind.’

He went off with his plate and his mug and I sat there and played with the coffee and the toast. I would have liked to listen to the tapes as well, but Frank was running that part of the show and I had to abide by his judgement. He was still a cop, and a cop’s instincts are different to anyone else’s.

After a few minutes I realised I’d emptied the mug and all the toast was gone and I hadn’t tasted any of it. I stretched and went out into the small back yard where the dew on the grass was just beginning to dry out. I did a few knee bends and flexes and worked the shoulder. It was stiff but not too bad.

Frank rapped on the doorframe and I went back inside. I could hear Hilde moving around in another part of the house and the radio playing the classical music she liked to listen to in the morning.

‘It’s just a feeling,’ Frank said. ‘But I get the impression someone’s pissed off at the way it’s gone ballistic’

‘Hope you’re right.’

I thanked Frank and promised to stay in touch. He looked worried. I felt worried. The early morning traffic was thick and I had to concentrate on my driving. My clothes felt musty and my unshaven face itched. I hit the horn too often and had some narrow escapes from drivers who were as ill-tempered and impatient as me.

My mobile rang as I turned into my street and I swore as I answered it and shuffled the car into a tight parking spot.

‘Hardy.’

‘This is Bryce O’Connor. Have you heard the news?’

‘What news? How’d you get on with Master?’

‘Stewart Master has escaped.’

The car hadn’t quite come to a stop and I had to stand on the brake to stop it bumping the one in front. I swore again and O’Connors voice sputtered in my ear.

‘Is that all you can say?’

‘Sorry. I was driving. When was this?’

‘They don’t know. He was missed this morning.’

‘Did you talk to him yesterday?’

‘Of course I did. I tried to get him to tell me anything he could about this Eastman. He said nothing and he hung up on me. I tried to call back and he refused to take the calls. What the hell am I going to do? The police are coming to talk to me this morning.’

‘For God’s sake, don’t tell them anything about Lorrie. Just be your above-it-all self. Everything between you and your client is confidential, etc’

‘I’m not sure that’ll do under the circumstances.’

‘It’ll have to do. I’m working on this and I’ve got some help. That’s all I can tell you.’

‘What if Master contacts me?’

‘Not likely, but if he does just tell him what I’ve told you and give him my mobile number. I’ll meet him anywhere, any time. But say as little about me as you possibly can to the police.’

‘They’ll know you visited him and they know you’re working for his wife. Oh my God, they’ll try to contact her.’

‘They won’t succeed, will they?’

I rang off and sat in the car thinking about it. I wished I knew more about Warren North-how he thought, how long his fuse was, how he’d react to this news. Was it good or bad for Lorrie? Would Master know where North was likely to take her? And would he intervene on his own and, if so, with what resources? How would this affect Piper and the people he was associated with? Lots of questions, no answers, as usual.

I went inside, stripped off, showered and shaved, and put on fresh clothes. The light on the answering machine was flickering and I pressed the button.

‘Hey, Cliff. You know the voice and you’ve got the number. Call me if you need me.’

Hank Bachelor, boy detective, still sounding cheerful. I had hours to kill before the meeting with Piper. I put my mobile on the charger and cleaned and oiled my pistol. The chamois shoulder holster was creased and dusty from hanging in a closet and I wiped it down and smoothed it out before strapping it on. It felt uncomfortable as it always had, but it sat flat and neat under my armpit and didn’t sag under the weight of the gun.