Peter Corris - Master's mates

‘Get started, O’Connor. Knock it off, Master. D’you want everybody around to take a second and third look at you?’

O’Connor got the car moving and Master subsided. His mood swings were impossible to anticipate and getting more violent. One minute he was in control, then he was ranting. He was quiet for a short spell and then he said, ‘Well, what did you learn?’

‘Does the name Starcevich mean anything to you?’

I heard the upholstery hiss as he slumped back against the seat and I turned around. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said. ‘I know it.’

I twisted back to make sure O’Connor was headed for the bridge before turning again to look at Master. He was a mess; the drug was working on him but he was fighting it with everything he had.

‘I don’t know where North lives or what boltholes he might have,’ Master said slowly, battling to keep from slurring. ‘But I do know someone who’s involved in getting the shipment to where it’s supposed to go and I know that North and he are friends, as much as anyone could be a friend to a prick like him. That’s Ray Starcevich.’

‘If you knew that, why didn’t you go straight for him?’

‘I did. He’s got a boat at the Watsons Bay marina. I went there but they said he was out on the water. Then Bryce here convinced me you were on the ball and that it’d be worth my while to see you first. Fuck knows that it has been.’

I thought about it as we approached the bridge. Boats had figured generally in this bloody business from the start- Reg Penny’s yacht, the drug shipment coming by boat, Lorrie mentioning that she had a yacht. For no good reason I said, ‘That’s where Lorries boat is.’

Master’s tired head jerked. ‘What? Lorrie hasn’t got a boat.’

‘She told me she has and you didn’t know about it. It’s called the

… some kind of red wine…’

‘Jesus,’ Master said. His pale eyes, red-rimmed now from fatigue and stress, went hard. ‘You’ve seen it? You’ve been on it… with her?’

I kept my eyes steady on his and a fist ready to fire in case he lost it completely. ‘Don’t be stupid. No. She just mentioned it early on, when I was getting the picture about you and her and all this.’

‘What does all this babble mean?’ O’Connor said as he slowed to join the traffic selecting lanes.

‘It means we’re headed for Watsons Bay,’ I said. ‘So make sure you get in the right lane.’

The marina and yacht club were located to the south of Camp Cove, putting them close to Vaucluse. That might have made it more expensive but around here it hardly mattered- a coffee could cost five bucks. O’Connor knew the way because he’d been there earlier in the day with Master when he failed to find Starcevich. Master had fallen quiet in the back and O’Connor was gaining in confidence by the minute.

‘He’s falling asleep,’ O’Connor whispered. ‘If I drive around for a few minute-’

‘Don’t even think it.’ Master could hardly say the words; it wasn’t much of a threat.

The marina had three jetties about twenty-five metres apart with moorings on both sides of each. The daylight was beginning to fade and most of the activity was of the pack-up-and-go kind. Boats again, I thought. I was beginning to hate the bloody things. ‘Where was Starcevich’s boat supposed to be?’

‘Jetty one,’ Master mumbled. ‘Ballina Belle.’

‘Have some more coffee and try to stay with it,’ I said. ‘I’m going to check something out.’

‘What the fuck’s wrong with me?’

‘O’Connor drugged you. Don’t hurt him unless you have to, just keep him here. Back in a minute.’

I got out and walked towards the marina office searching my memory for the name of Lorrie’s boat. Yalumba?. Penfold? Then it came to me- Merlot. The woman in the office looked about ready to call it a day but there were still a few people moving around. I had no idea what security was like at a marina, but I didn’t see any high gates or electronic equipment.

‘Excuse me, is Mrs Master’s yacht, the Merlot, around?’

‘Around? What do you mean around?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with boatspeak. Is it here?’

She pointed to jetty three. ‘She’s moored there.’

‘The thing is, Mrs Master’s thinking of selling it. I’ve got her lawyer here, a Mr O’Connor and the prospective buyer. I wonder if we could take a look at her?’

Suddenly her level of interest went up ten notches. ‘That poor woman. I helped her learn to sail. She caught on quick. Then there was that trial. I read all about it.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘O’Connor. That’s the name of the guy who defended her hubby, right?’

I nodded. ‘Right.’

‘I saw a photo of him. Fatty. He’s here?’

I pointed back to the BMW.

‘He didn’t do such a flash job. I’m surprised she has him as her lawyer.’

I shrugged. ‘They get their claws in. Can we look at the… yacht?’

‘I guess so.’

There was one more bridge to cross. ‘Thanks. I suppose you’ve been busy, nice day like this, long weekend coming up?’

‘Flat tacked. Haven’t lifted my head.’

So with any luck she didn’t know about Master’s escape. ‘Okay. Thank you. We’ll go and take a look.’

She tapped her watch. ‘I’m off in a few minutes. I’ll tell the night guy.’

‘Don’t bother,’ I said. ‘We won’t be long.’

I went back to the car, opened the rear door and helped Master to sit up. I relieved him of the guns and he didn’t protest. ‘You’re going to have to make an effort, Stewie,’ I said. ‘Just a short walk and then you can lie down and sleep and with any luck you’ll be safe.’

His pupils were pinpricks and his pulse was racing. I opened O’Connor’s briefcase, retrieved his mobile phone and handed it to him. Then O’Connor and I got Master on his feet and moving. Luckily, he was light and even two-thirds spaced he was coordinated enough to make it possible for two big men to support him.

‘What’re we doing?’ O’Connor hissed.

‘We’re getting him onto Lorrie’s boat. When we reach the office you give the woman in there a smile. She knows you.’

He did it and we manoeuvred Master along the jetty and down onto the deck of the Merlot. I used the picks attached to my Swiss army knife to pick the lock on the door leading to the boat’s saloon. Master was almost out to it by the time we got him comfortable. I could feel O’Connor getting ready to be the super-professional again and that was the last thing I wanted.

‘Take off his shoes,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘You heard. Do it.’

Doing the menial task deflated him a bit, especially as he made a mess of it.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘This is the way I see it. You’ve harboured an escaped criminal, driven him and drugged him. Your prints’ll be all over the packet, and what you could be doing with a supply of the date-rape drug I hate to think. Your reputation’s about to take a nose-dive.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’m very serious. I can put you deep in the shit or keep you out of it altogether. It’s up to you.’

‘W-what do you want me to do?’

‘Simple. Just stay here with Master until I contact you.’

‘How long will that be?’

‘Hard to say. If Starcevich’s not there it’ll be a matter of minutes. If he is it’ll be longer.’

‘What’re you going to do?’

I looked at Master lying stretched out on the seat in the saloon. His eyes were closed and his features had relaxed and he was breathing easily, innocent as a trout in a pool. In my estimation he’d handled himself pretty well through all this so far and might have continued to do so but for O’Connor’s intervention. Out of prison, with appropriate clothes, money and a gun, he’d had a lot of options, but he’d chosen to check on his kids and try to help his wife. I thought about the sterility and heartlessness of Avonlea and didn’t want to be a party to putting him back there if I could help it.