Peter Corris - Lugarno

It pretty much worked and I was well and truly relaxed when I stepped into the sauna and slopped some water on the heat. I put a towel down on the top bench and stretched out on my back to let the steam do its work. I’ve heard of people fucking in saunas but it doesn’t take me that way, rather the reverse. The sweat was pooling in my grey-haired navel and running off me and I’d pulled the towel out from under and was mopping my face when two men entered the room. I didn’t bother to look at them and couldn’t have seen much through the steam anyway. I was about to roll over when one of the men spoke.

‘Mr Hardy my name is Lewis. I represent the Lord George Social Introduction Agency.’

I struggled to recover something from my soporific surrender to the heat. ‘You left out the word escort,’ I said. ‘Not that I give a fuck who you are or what you do.’

‘It would be very unwise of you to take that line.’

I fanned away some steam and saw that the other man was Baldy. I pushed myself upright but I was sluggish from the spa and the steam and he was quick. He pinned me with an arm like a railway sleeper. He held me down without effort — he had the weight and the strength and the leverage. I lay back and blinked to try to clear my eyes and get a better look at them. Lewis was a thin, stringy type with sparse mousy hair that looked even more undernourished in the steam room. The other guy didn’t have to worry about hair on the head or any other part of his body. He was hairless all over. An alopecia sufferer. He was also packing much more muscle than fat on his big frame. He lifted his arm and stood so that he could hit me with either hand on pretty much any part of my body.

‘Represent,’ I said. ‘What does that mean?’

‘In my case, legal matters,’ Lewis said as he took up a squatting position a level below me. ‘In Mr Stivens here’s case, security. Now you appear to be mounting some kind of surveillance on an important client of ours and we’re interested to know why.’

‘How d’you see it that way?’

Lewis wiped his face with the corner of his towel and looked about ready to faint. ‘Too hot for you?’ I said.

Lewis’s head barely moved but it was enough of a signal for Stivens. That RSJ of an arm came down hard across my chest so that I could feel the ribs separate and bend. I let out a gasp of pain.

‘To answer your question. You were seen by Mr Stivens in Kogarah and your activities at the Price home in Lugarno were reported to us. Mr Stivens and I followed you here from your office in order to have this little meeting.’

He’d told me more than he realised but I wasn’t feeling on top of things as a result. ‘You should talk to the police, Mr Lewis. They’re anxious to know what you already know. You could be very helpful to them.’

Lewis coughed. ‘You’re being very foolish. What is your concern with Mrs Price?’

‘I’m in love with her,’ I said. ‘She’s got beautiful tits.’

Lewis gave his minimal signal again but this time I was ready. My towel was sodden with sweat and steam and I came up off the bench with it in my hand and whipped it into Stivens’ eyes. It hit hard and he yelled and doubled up, clawing at his face. I slid off the bench and brought my knee up under his chin. Something gave, not enough. He roared and came at me but, half-blinded, he was easy meat. I head-butted him solidly on his wide, fleshy nose and he sagged again. You don’t get many chances like that. As he was off balance and shaky I delivered a powerhouse right to his ear. It’s the sort of punch that protects your knuckle and causes a lot of pain. Stivens went down heavily, bleeding from the nose and his mashed ear. He wasn’t unconscious but all the fight had gone out of him. I kicked him lightly in the ribs. ‘You stay right there, Mr Stivens. If I see you again you can say goodbye to your teeth.’

I recovered my towel, wrapped it around me and gestured to Lewis, who hadn’t moved a muscle. ‘You come with me unless you’d like some of the same.’

Mustering what dignity a pale, skinny, potbellied, balding man can with only a towel for covering, he went through the open door to the pool area. The lovebirds were still at it. I shepherded him through to the changing room and pushed him down onto a seat.

‘Touch me and I’ll charge you with assault.’

‘No you won’t. Your kind doesn’t do business in courts, you like to use muscle.’

‘I think I made a mistake.’

‘You did and he did and he got hurt. He was over-confident. But you’re not.’

‘No, not at all.’

‘I didn’t think so. You know, Lewis, I’m not really interested in your operation, not at this stage at least, but I do have an interest in Mrs Price and you don’t need to know why. How did she get involved with your escort agency?’

He folded his arms across his skinny chest. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’

‘No?’ Like me, he had the key to his locker pinned to his towel. I yanked it free, checked the number and opened the locker. Lewis made a move as if to get to the door but I stopped him with a look. I opened the locker and there was a smart suit, shirt and tie, shoes and socks all hanging nicely. I reached inside the breast pocket of the jacket and took out a thick wallet and a small notebook.

A note of panic entered his voice. ‘What’re you doing? Leave that alone. Take the money, but…’

‘I don’t want your money. I don’t even want your dirty little secrets. I want the answer to the question I asked you.’

He thought about it and while he did I started pulling cards and bits of paper out of the wallet and dropping them on the floor. One of the cards had a familiar look and feel and I glanced at it before dropping it — Dr Ephraim Cross. Lewis still didn’t speak so I tore a page from the notebook, crumpled it and flicked it towards him. ‘The next one I tear out I’m going to make you eat for ruining my sauna.’

‘OK, OK. Mrs Price came to us through one of our personnel.’

‘Name?’

He sucked in a deep, wheezy breath and looked at the door as if hoping Stivens would burst in and save him. He knew it wasn’t going to happen though, and he reached out a shaky hand for the notebook. ‘Jason Jorgensen,’ he said.

‘Pick up your stuff!’

Lewis started to gather up his things as I opened my locker and got dressed. I took my time about it and that increased his distress as I’d intended. Everything had gone wrong for him and he wasn’t used to it.

When I was ready I pointed a finger at him. ‘You knew where to find me, but I know where to find you. I don’t think either of us wants to meet up again, do you?’

Lewis shook his head and I took a wire coathanger from my locker and twisted it into something nasty in case Stivens was outside the door. He wasn’t and I was surprised. I thought he’d have a bit more go in him, but you can never tell. The spa room was empty and I opened the door to the sauna. Stivens was sitting on the top bench. He’d mopped up the blood and was getting the benefit of the steam.

‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘Mr Lewis and I talked things over. You can leave now.’

‘Fuck you.’

No marks for originality. I let the door swing back and walked out, thinking that the tough guys didn’t seem to be as tough any more. In the old days men like Rhino Jackson and ‘Haitch’ Henderson went all the way and it’d take a bullet or a lead pipe to stop them. The modern heavies seemed to know when to call a halt. Maybe there’s a TAFE course on it.

The rain had stopped but it was dark now and I exercised some caution in the parking lot. It’s always possible that the muscle you meet and deal with isn’t the only muscle around. But all was quiet. At a guess the gunmetal Saab parked a few spaces from my car was Lewis’s and I was tempted to do some work with my Swiss Army Knife on the tyres. But there was no way to be sure. From habit I made a mental note of the number. I put the twisted coat-hanger on the bonnet; if I was wrong about the car, no harm done, if I was right — message delivered. I was well ahead of Lewis and Stivens on points anyway, and it was definitely time for a drink.