Garry Disher - Crosskill: A Wyatt Novel

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Cross Kill

[Wyatt 04]

By Garry Disher

Scanned & Proofed By MadMaxAU

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One

Thestranger appeared just after lunch on day one of Wyatts operation against theMesics. He was driving a red Capri, soft top down, and Wyatt watched him parkit against the kerb, unfold from the car, stride to the compound gates and bendhis face to the intercom grille in the brick pillar. MESIC was spelledout in shiny red tiles above the intercom and Wyatt saw the stranger touch thename as though to draw luck from it. Then the gates jerked, swung open, and theman stepped through the gap. He was about thirty, and he had the raw-nerved,hole-and-corner look of a man who exists on coffee and whispers. Wyatt put thattogether with the car, the costly jacket and jeans, and speculated that herewas someone who made a profit for the Mesics and profited by them.

The Mesics were small-scaleracketeers with ambitions, and Wyatt was watching their place through the rearwindow of a rented Volvo. The Volvo was a good touch. Hed faced it away fromthe compound gates and was sitting in the back seat so this wouldnt look likea stakeout to casual eyes. But the car looked right anyway, so he wasntexpecting trouble. The citizens of Templestowe, crooked and otherwise, ran toVolvos, Saabs, cars like that.

This was Wyatts second stakeout ofthe Mesics. Ten months ago hed sat outside the compound gates like this, burningto hit the place, but hed been a marked man at the time, with every gun-happyhoon and policeman in Victoria after him, so hed fled the state. Then, in Queensland,hed robbed a bank and killed a man and given up a small fortune to helpsomeone run for her life, and it had all added up to ten months ofhand-to-mouth waiting.

But now the heat was off and he wasback in Melbourne again, watching the Mesics. The place still looked brash andnew, a hectare of land that had been stripped bare and turned into a familycompound: raw landscaped terraces, young trees, shiny lockup garages and acouple of blockish cream-brick houses that could have featured in a travelbrochure from some sunny, dusty spot on the Mediterranean coast, the whole lotprotected by a wire and girder perimeter fence three metres high.

Wyatt saw a door open in the firsthouse. A young woman appeared at the top of the steps. She looked expensive anddissatisfied, restlessly touching herself hips, thighs, chest, sleeves,collar, the hem of her dress. Thick auburn hair was piled over her head andshoulders, catching the sun as she explored her body. As the visitor approachedher up the steps, she seemed to relax. She touched his arm and led him into thehouse.

There was no one else around. Acontract cleaning service called Dustbusters had come and gone before lunch,but so far Wyatt had not seen any guards, children or servants who might get inhis way. He didnt want to have to send in an army against an army.

So the place looked easynot that ithad ever been a question of whether or not Wyatt would pull this job. He wasonly interested in the how and when. After all, the Mesics had his money inthere. They didnt know they had his money, but that was no consideration ofWyatts. A little over ten months earlier hed been putting together an easypayroll snatch in the red dirt country of South Australia, only to be cheatedof the take by a man who owed a lot of money to the Mesics. There had been afew deaths and a lot of aggravation because of it and Wyatt wanted his moneyback. It was big money. Over three hundred thousand. It would set him up again,enable him to buy a place, live in comfort while he concentrated once more onthe big jobs, the way it had been for him before it all went sour.

Wyatt rolled his head a few times toease his knotted muscles, then reassessed the Mesic place. The advantages wereclear. First, it had more than one exit. He never hit places where he ran therisk of boxing himself in. Second, the big houses of Templestowe sprawledbehind hedges and trees, meaning a lower risk of snooping neighbours. Third,the streets were broad and fast, and the freeway was easy to get to. He couldbe well clear of the area before the local law showed. Thats if they did show.It wasnt likely. The Mesics were crooked. They didnt want the law pokingaround. Their security system wouldnt be wired to the local cop shop.

Wyatt went still. Something washappening. The electronic gates were swinging open again. Just then a shadowpassed across the Volvos side windows and he sank in his seat as a black Saabturned into the Mesic place.

He raised his head to watch,thankful that the creeper being trained along the security fence was stillsparse and patchy. He saw the gate close and heard a faint snarl as the Saabrounded the curving gravel drive and stopped outside the first house. As if oncue, the front door opened and the woman and her visitor started down thesteps.

Two men got out of the Saab. Wyattcould see a facial resemblance between them and guessed that they werebrothers. Other than that, they were not alike. The passenger, dressed in jeansand running shoes, was a tall, solid, slow-moving man of about thirty who hungback as the driver walked fast toward the house.

The driver was about forty, andslighter, shorter and sharper than his heavy younger brother. Draped in adouble-breasted bone-coloured suit over a tieless black shirt buttoned at theneck, he was a Hollywood version of a new-wave Mafia hood. His hair was thickand black, curling to his shoulders, and Wyatt saw it toss as the man began adance of anger, pointing, shaking his fist and apparently yelling at the woman.Her visitor seemed to laugh in his face. The woman scowled.

Wyatt turned away. Who ran the Mesicoperation? Who would give him the most trouble? Where were the weaknesses? Hecouldnt plan this job until he had that kind of information.

Rossiter would have the answersthatsif Rossiter felt inclined to help him. Rossiter had once been his go-between,but now there were good reasons why Rossiter might wish him dead. When everythinghad gone wrong for Wyatt the year before, others had been affected too,including Rossiter.

Wyatt peered out at the Mesic placeagain and what he saw made him duck in his seat. He messed his hair with hisfingers, tugged his shirt out of his waistband and pulled down the zipper atthe front of his trousers. He reached for the Scotch bottle on the floor anddrank deeply from it. He splashed a little around the inside of the car anddown his chest. Finally he rubbed his face hard with his hands, reddening theskin, and sprawled out along the back seat.

Even with his eyes closed he sensedthat someone had come to stand next to the Volvo, blocking the light. The doorby his head opened. A hand smacked him hard on the cheek.

Get out.

Wyatt blinked his eyes, grunted,tried to turn over on his side. He recognised the solid character from thepassenger seat of the Saab.

The hand smacked him again. Comeon, pal, move it.

Wyatt opened his eyes and kept themopen. He sat up by degrees, exhaling over the big man.

The man jerked back. Jesus Christ.Come on, out.

Im over point-oh-five, Wyattslurred. Let me sleep it off.

Bullshit, the man said, reachingin a massive arm.

Wyatt let a drunken look of cunninggrow on his face. They cant book you if youre sleeping it off in the backseat and youve got the keys in your pocket.

Dont fuck with me. I dont knowwho youre working for but you can tell them the Mesics are not for sale.

Wyatt blinked and frowned. What?

The big mans face twisted. He hadshort hair that kinked like wood shavings on his overheated scalp and Wyattcould smell fury and perspiration on him. Spittle sprayed onto Wyatts face asthe man said, Tell your boss the Mesics are reorganising. Were not rollingonto our backs for anybody.