Garry Disher - Death Deal

Not if we have good reason to believe youll tip off your accomplices, Vincent said.

He turned the other photograph over. Wyatt was still indistinct but clearly holding her shoulders on the South Bank on that Sunday afternoon a week ago. Stolle, Anna thought. Who else apart from the police had the know-how to run a surveillance like that? He saw what we were up to and got curious and greedy.

Is he good, Anna? Clyne breathed, reaching over to tap Wyatts face. Give you a good time, does he?

Vincent leaned back, folded his arms. Hold onto your memories, sweetheart. Hes the last bit of dick youll have for a long, long time.

Attractive woman like you, Clyne said, all that lovely hair, unmarked skin, good education, nice manners, proper way of speakingyou know how long someone like you will last in here?

Anna said nothing. Shed been wondering exactly that but she said nothing.

Dont talk, dont trust, dont feel, thats what its going to be like from now on. But that wont save you. Theres an element in here that hates what you represent. The merest hint that youre waving your tits or arse around, theyll shaft you.

Or maybe theyll pussy-tame you. You might even get to like it, Vincent said.

Shed be better off not flaunting it, though, dont you think?

Oh, absolutely.

Anna tried to let the words run off her back and sink into the hard floor. It was cruelty and gutter talk from a couple of people who looked like adherents to a fundamentalist church and she would not let it get to her. She closed her mouth in a thin line and did not speak again.

Clyne said, Come on, Anna. Who is he?

Are you scared? Maybe we could arrange something, some protection, Vincent said. What do you think, Lesley?

The woman at the door wore the nastiest suit Anna had ever seen. It was electric blue, a vampish 1950s film star outfit in polyester. She came and sat near Anna and smiled a smile of hard falsity at her.

Vincent stood up, stashing the photographs in a vinyl briefcase. DC Clyne and I are going now. Youll be seeing us again.

They left the room. After a while, Anna forced herself to look at the woman in the blue suit. The name on the ID pinned to her lapel was Lesley Van Fleet. She wasnt government: she was employed by the corporation that ran the prison. What happens now?

You and I have a little talk.

Why should I talk to you? Youre not a cop.

Dont make it hard on yourself, Van Fleet said. Talk to me. She leaned close. Start with the money.

Anna didnt talk. Finally Van Fleet said, Youll be sorry you didnt, and went out the door.

A custodial officer took Anna down long corridors, past a methadone dispensary, a television lounge, a library, a room for table tennis and chess. It was recreation time for the inmates and she got assessing looks, a cool challenge, one or two grins. They knew all about her and what had happened. What a bringdown, someone called.

She passed cells on the long walk. They looked bright and lived-in, books and candles on shelves, posters and cuttings on the walls, tie-dyed scarves over lampshades, the intimate indentations of the owners body on bedclothes and pillows. The cell she was shown to was small and bare.

The custodial officer shoved sheets, blankets and a pillowcase into her hands and began to walk away. Anna said, What happens now?

The officer stopped. Evie will show you the ropes. Evie, come here.

An Aboriginal woman emerged from the next cell along. Young, large-framed, intensely shy, she stared at the floor until the custodial officer had left.

Pleased to meet you, Anna said. She held out her hand. Evie touched her fingers briefly, then snatched her hand away. She kept her eyes averted, smiling a little.

So, Anna said. She shifted the bedding from one arm to the other.

Evie looked up, unable to hide her curiosity. You done that bank?

Thats what they say.

Your feller got away?

I hope so.

Evie nodded.

They stood there like that for a while. Anna sat on her mattress, foam, the cover new-looking. She pointed to a plastic chair in the corner. Have a seat.

Evie sat and looked around at the walls. Ill have to start decorating tomorrow, Anna said.

I got some pictures. Till you get your own stuff.

Thanks.

Evie came back with a slippery bundle of magazine clippings: Madonna in a bra and jeans, grinding a microphone; Demi Moore naked and pregnant; a woman with windswept hair on a wild stretch of coastline; a sleeping Labrador bitch with a tortoiseshell kitten curled against her teats.

Thanks.

Evie was wearing a tracksuit top and fished in the pockets. Sticky tape.

Thanks. Thats great.

Anna smoomed Madonna over her knee. What are you in for? Is it all right to ask?

Killed me old man.

Really?

He come home drunk and wanted to put it up me tail and bashed me when I said no. I had enough. Five years of it, so when he flaked out I stuck him in the guts.

He used to hit you?

And the rest, Evie said. Five years.

You should have got a protection order. You could have gone to a shelter.

Evie shrugged. No-one told me.

How long?

They reckoned I meant to do it, Evie replied, so I got twenty-five years.

God.

Well, I did mean to do it.

The doorway darkened. The two women looking in at Anna wore amiably mocking expressions but underneath it they had a keen, hard interest in her. They were big, lithe women, one black-haired, the other tawny, hair that was cut brutally short everywhere except for long patches along the crown. Blue-black tattoos ran the length of their bare arms, from shoulder to wrist. Silence and power; Anna was reminded of a panther and a leopard and she went tense on the edge of the bed. She wondered if Evie would protect her.

The women came in. The fair one sat next to her on the bed. A grin split her face. My names Blaze.

The panther leaned on the wall and laughed. She burns.

Anna nodded at one, then the other. Anna, she said.

We know, the panther woman said. She uncoiled from the wall and held out her hand. Im Lauris.

Anna shook hands warily with both women.

Then Lauris pointed at the clipping of Madonna on Annas knee. Evie! What are you giving her that crap for?

A giggle shook Blaze, seeming to pass through her entire body.

Femming it up, showing her tits off. Get rid of it.

Anna glanced at Evie. Evie had drawn back into herself, shy again, looking at the floor. Anna began to sort through the clippings. A sheet of notepaper fluttered to the floor. She picked it up, saw broad, round handwriting, a few lines of verse that expressed a lament, an aching in the heart.

Evie snatched it from her, furiously embarrassed. Didnt know that was there.

Anna said, Did you write it?

Lauris took up a stance on the cell floor. The grin had left her face and she pointed her finger at Anna. Theres one thing youd better learn right now, lawyer lady. There are people in here who use things like that against you. Inmates, screws, they like to find personal stuff so they can twist the knife. Know what I mean?

Anna knew it would be a mistake to lose face, let herself be cowed. She got to her feet, her eyes on a level with Lauriss. And youd better learn right now that Im not one of them.

Lauris was expressionless. Then she shrugged. I guess well find that out.

Blaze said, keeping the peace, You write to keep yourself from going crazy. I was in solitary for ten months. All I could see was this star and Id look out at it and write.

Ten months?

Stress showed on her face. They said I was uncontrollable.

Lauris approached the younger woman, held her head to her stomach briefly, ruffled her hair. Blaze closed her eyes and the strain vanished from her face.