Honorable Assassin (34 page)

The summer was waning and there would not be
much good hunting left in a few short weeks. Rather than ruin the
meat with a shotgun, the two hunters would go out with .22 rifles.
Even though the objective was to destroy the rabbit population,
neither of them could justify killing them without eating them and
both men loved rabbit.

The morning came early and Terry was on hand
with his rifle. He had forgotten the fox tails, however. Junior was
a little slower this morning, but he was ready in short enough
order. The dew was gone from the grass when they reached the woods,
but it would not be hot for a few hours. Both men were accomplished
hunters. Junior knew the land better, but Terry was quieter in the
woods. Between them they bagged eight rabbits by noon and decided
it was time for some food.

The gunshots were more like cap guns at the
cabin, Henry could barely hear them. He had not hunted well while
he was there, the city had dulled his edge a bit and while he had
bagged some game, he had wasted more ammunition than he had used.
He blamed the gun sights on his brother’s rifle, but the truth was
that he had never been a good hunter. He lacked the patience and
that indescribable smoothness that allows some men to become one
with the forest.

The rabbits were skinned and tossed in the
pot. Beth was bustling about preparing lunch for the men. The
rabbit would serve for dinner. She insisted that Terry stay, but he
explained that he had some things to do and promised to return at
dinner time.

Beth put up a good front and let things
appear normal. Truthfully she was angry at her husband for allowing
Henry to occupy the cottage. They had known he was a gangster all
along. His gifts were always welcome, though suspect, and they had
not seen him for years. They never spoke of each other, these
brothers who had chosen different paths in life. It was as if they
tried to forget each other.

Terry stopped back for dinner and, in an
unusually gregarious moment, he began to regale them with humorous
drinking stories. He felt good being among people he did not have
to fear and mistrust; people he had known most of his life. He
relaxed a bit and in relaxing realized how tense he had been.

Terry never saw Henry Cuthbert at Jerry’s
farm and did not know they were related. He never saw Henry that
day either, but he was noted from the tree line. Henry saw him
arrive and rubbed his eyes, not believing what he saw. With the
typical lack of patience he could not wait there until Terry came
back out, but he did come back later, saw that the van was gone and
debated crossing the field to the house. Coming out of the woods
made him feel exposed. What if someone pulled in while he was
standing out there like a bloody wallaby? So he waited until after
dark to make the trip. He was not certain that he had seen his
former associate, Thompson Barber. It was a long way across the
field. Jerry gave him a bit of stew that had been set aside for him
and answered his questions. No, he was told, that was not Thompson
Barber but Terry Kingston. They had known Terry for many years and
he lived in Orange, not Sydney. Henry accepted the answer. He had
no reason not to.

Being in the house after dark meant Henry
was going to spend the night on the couch. The field could be
traversed, but there was the trail to the cabin and he might not be
able to find his way by flashlight.

Morning came and Henry had taken a long hot
shower, grateful for the hot water. He was shaving with his
brother’s razor when he heard an engine pull in the driveway. The
bathroom window looked out on the driveway so that when he pulled
back the curtain, he saw Terry Kingston getting out of the company
van with a bundle of fox tails. He had forgotten to bring them by
the day before and was dropping them off on his way back to Orange.
This time there was no mistake. Henry was looking at the man he had
known as Thompson Barber. The wheels began turning in Henry’s
head.

Evan McCormick suspected his new associate
had something to do with the manhunt that was on for Henry
Cuthbert. He was paying a lot of attention to the structure and
makeup of the Sydney organization. To say he was fully committed is
not totally accurate, for while he liked the idea of being the man
in charge of the entire operation, he did not think it would work
the way it had been described to him. He also had a healthy
suspicion that the man he knew as Thompson Barber would
double-cross him as easily and readily as he had turned on his
current employers. Evan “Saxon” McCormick was already picking out
Thompson Barber’s gravesite.

The meeting was held in a motel room in
Blackheath. Saxon and eight of his higher ranking men rode out and
rented rooms. The proprietor was not happy about seeing the
motorcycles because a different group had trashed the place badly a
couple of years before. The manager insisted that the rooms be paid
for with a credit card so he had some legal recourse if there was a
repeat of prior events.

Terry Kingston got there just after the
women arrived in a couple of vans. Self described biker bitches,
they hung around with whatever bike club treated them right and
they swapped clubs often. They had no loyalty and could be had by
anybody. Their lack of moral standards had a certain appeal for the
men.

Terry paid for his room with cash. He did
not have the look of the bikies and the manager figured he was
probably the only other lodger he would get while the gang was
staying.

Saxon watched very closely while trying to
be nonchalant. He arranged for Rita, a fine looking woman, to
approach Terry with a bottle and a smile. Evan liked to test people
to determine their moral compass and their proclivities. He was
surprised that while Terry drank he did not drink much, and while
he obviously enjoyed women’s company, he was more interested in
business. Most men Terry’s age could not have turned Rita down and
she really poured it on that day. She all but unzipped his
pants.

After a few minutes, once they determined
that they were not being watched, Terry and Evan went into a room
together. Both men were armed this time. Evan was confident enough
to allow Terry to keep his guns. This was not lost on Terry and as
a gesture of faith he took off his jacket and his holsters and
threw them on the bed. Evan did not follow suit.

“All right, Saxon, I must say I like your
choice of meeting places.”

“Yeah, I like the Blue Mountains.”

“What I have will require precision and
coordination. I do not have an exact schedule, but when I do it
will be very time sensitive. If any of the elements show up late
the plan doesn’t work and we scrap it. That’s for the future. For
now, I have something easy and profitable. What we get is a tanker
full of gasoline for your pumps. What we need is a woman you can
trust, some GHB and a good driver. Your servo tanks hold how
much?”

“30,000 liters.”

“Damn big tanks.”

“It used to be a truck stop. I had the
diesel tanks pulled out and scrapped but kept the petrol
tanks.”

“All right. There is a regular run of
gasoline from the Petroleo depot in Sydney. The driver’s name is
Wally. He is not the full quid but he is a man of habit. He pulls
out of the depot for whatever run he is making and his first stop
is the Silver Spoon restaurant where he has breakfast. There is a
motel next to the Silver Spoon…”

“I know the place.”

“Good, then I won’t need to explain that the
trucks park behind the restaurant and you can’t see them from the
windows of the motel. What I propose is that we have a competent
sheila grab this galah and drop him some GHB. He’s out snoring and
we nab his truck, pump your tanks full and then bring it back to
him. He wakes up, don’t know what happened and goes on his way. He
won’t say anything until they notice he’s a few thousand liters
short but he won’t have anyone to blame.”

“Is this every morning?”

“Five days a week. Sometimes he works
Saturdays but he doesn’t have the time to stop on Saturday. So it
won’t work on the weekend. Remember though, the woman must be good.
She needs to allay his natural suspicion, dope him and get him to
the motel without arousing his suspicion. The only way that’s going
to happen is if he’s convinced it is his idea. And he’s not too
sharp.”

“Well then, do you think Rita could do it?”
Evan watched closely to see Terry’s reaction. He did not trust men
who were too easily swayed by a woman but he also detested poofs.
He had killed homosexuals on general principles when he was young.
He did not expect Terry to be such a man but the test was not
over.

Terry deliberately wiped his hands on his
blue jeans. “Yes, Rita could probably make a priest forget the love
of God.”

“Yet you blew her off to talk to me.”

“This is business. Business always comes
first. Women will always be there but opportunity does not always
wait.”

“Wait here.” Evan McCormick walked out the
door but he was not gone long. Terry heard a motorcycle fire up in
the parking lot, a few seconds later it left. Evan returned and
tossed Terry a liter of rum. Business was concluded and it was time
to party. The door had barely closed behind him before a woman
entered with a pair of plastic cups full of ice and a bottle of
cola. She was not Rita. She locked the door behind her and
proceeded to pour them both a drink.

Henry Cuthbert did not call Jimmy Cognac.
Jimmy had not been in charge long enough and did not have the
credibility Henry required. Henry called Abel Troy.

The receptionist claimed that Mr. Troy was
out but she took a message as was usual. Abel Troy called Henry
personally two minutes later.

“Henry, what have you done now? There is
nothing I can do to save you. You know this, don’t you?”

“Well, that’s not quite right. You can
provide me with passage to China and some funding for
survival.”

“Henry, this leaves me open to aiding and
abetting a killer. Tell me what would cause me to take such a
risk?”

“I know who your snake is. I know who has
been doing all the damage.”

“What are you referring to?”

“The man who hit the money van, the
American. I know who is feeding him the information. Get me out of
the country and provide me with some cash. I will tell you who he
is and where you can find him if he runs. But I can’t tell you till
I get in the vicinity of Thailand or Burma. I will not take the
chance of ending up strapped to a chair.”

“Henry, we would never do such a thing to
you.”

“Bullshit. You’ve done it to better men than
me and you’ll do it to whomever you like for as long as you think
it will advance your cause.”

“Henry…”

“Don’t give me that shit. I know what the
story is. What I need to know is do we have a deal?”

“Of course. Whatever you want. You have been
nothing but an asset to us. Where do you want to fly from?”

“Oh, no. You won’t catch me with that old
line. I need a passport to get out of the country. You will send it
to a Post Office Box in Canberra. When I am out of the country you
will learn who your spy is. Send the passport and enough cash. I’ll
contact you.”

As Henry would have expected, the Canberra
Post Office was watched carefully. The package that was sent was
forwarded from there to a private company who forwarded it to a box
in the Molong Post Office. One of Henry’s nephews picked it up from
there. Working with the Troy organization had inspired no trust in
Henry Cuthbert but he had learned to cover his tracks.

“Well, that went off like clockwork. We got
us a tank full of free petrol. That’s worth a bit.” Evan McCormick
was smiling broadly.

“Glad I could help,” Terry replied.

“Was your night good?”

“Most enjoyable.”

“Glad she could help. She had some good
things to say about you as well.”

“Once again, glad I could help.”

“What’s next?”

“First one’s free. I expect to get a bit of
a return off the next.”

“I think that’s only fair.”

“The next operation will take four men. You
will need one in a Spartan Security uniform. One experienced
checker and two fork truck drivers. I will need them on call within
a moment’s notice, and I will call you with the details.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure I can find the
talent. They will be ready. I will wait for your call, but make
sure you say nothing over the phone. If you do, that will destroy
our agreement. If anyone else answers at my number, hang up. I
don’t trust the telephone.”

“Righteous, mate. I’ll tell you what, then,
no matter where I tell you to meet me, it’ll be Cardigans. You know
the place?”

“I don’t like it.” Evan was not the sort of
clientele that frequented Cardigans.

“No worries. You name the spot.”

“The Camshaft Grill next to the
raceway.”

“That does it then. Look, I’ve been gone a
few more days than I should. I’ve got to get back. I know they miss
me.”

Saxon smiled for the first time Terry had
ever seen, then his face went flat again. It still looked like a
sign. Terry checked out of the motel and headed back toward Sydney.
Much of the way there he had a motorcycle escort.

Jimmy Cognac was hot under the collar. He
wanted to know where Terry had been and what he had been doing.
Terry was not supposed to disappear like that and leave Jimmy
running the show when Henry Cuthbert was on the run. Nobody else
had run off. Terry closed one eye and looked at Jimmy out of the
other while he slowly fished out a cigarette and lit it. They were
sitting in the office space of a warehouse that dealt in legitimate
items.

“Jimmy, what happened?” Terry’s voice
sounded like he was addressing a child.

“What happened, that idiot cocksucka shot
two cops, on film no less. Then he leaves his driver’s license and
registration in the cop car. What a fuckin’ idiot. I’d kill him
myself if I could.”