Wyatt - 05 - Port Vila Blues Read Online Free PDF

fingertips over an imaginary organ keyboard. He
gulped when he saw the two men. He moved to cut the song and yelp into the
microphone but Riggs moved first, smashing the edge of his gun across the DJs
throat.

    It was hard and vicious and
unnecessary. Steady, Niekirk said.

    That was all he said. He had
electrical tape in his pocket. He bound the man to his studio chair, then
tipped man and chair onto the floor. The song finished. Both men froze. But it
was an album. Another song started.

    Songs had been short in the sixties
and seventies. Niekirk guessed that he and Riggs had about two and a half
minutes. He put his mouth to the radio: Come and get us.

    Mansell backed the Telecom van onto
the radio stations forecourt. Parked like that it obscured the foyer doors
from the street. The three men worked quickly, forming a chain, Riggs passing
the money to Niekirk at the doors, Niekirk passing to Mansell, who stacked the
containers in the rear of the van.

    Another song started, Sky Pilot,
droning from a speaker mounted to the wall above the reception desk. Good, a longish
song, seven minutes at least. Niekirk kept the money moving, knowing there was
no guarantee that the DJ wouldnt free himself. There was no guarantee that
loyal listeners wouldnt investigate when 3UY went off the air soon, either.

    Then they were loaded and Mansell
was driving them out of there, Riggs in the passenger seat, Niekirk with the
money in the rear of the van, just as Sky Pilot ended, nothing following it,
only a speaker hiss like a mute presence at the end of an open phone line.

    Mansell turned left onto the main
street, accelerating smoothly. A late cruising taxi cut in around them but
otherwise the town was dark and deserted. Voices murmured on the police band: a
domestic in Eltham; suspected prowler in St Andrews.

    Theyd parked the Range Rover at the
rear of a used-car lot in Warrandyte, sale stickers plastered across its
windscreen. The entrance to the yard itself was a simple driveway with a hefty
padlocked chain across it. Niekirk picked the lock, waited while Mansell drove
in, looped the chain across the driveway again, and followed on foot to the
rear of the lot.

    Mansell parked in shadows next to
the Range Rover. The three men got out and then stopped still and stared at one
another. There was always this moment of uncertainty. If there was going to be
a cross, this was the time and the place for it. They each carried guns and
they stood with their gun-hands curled ready to snatch and fire, a standoff
that could collapse into pain and blood.

    Mansell broke it. He moved next to
Niekirk and said, looking levelly at Riggs, the risky one: Weve been paid. Its
time we werent here.

    Riggs studied both men narrowly,
then suddenly grinned. Moving carefully, he took out his gun and handed it to
Mansell, butt first. Mansell was the quartermaster. The gun hadnt been fired;
he would issue it again, issue it for job after job until the time one of them
fired it, and if that happened he would dump it in a river.

    Then Mansell collected Niekirks gun
and after that they loaded the money into a pair of small gym bags. Finally,
still watching one another warily, the three men stripped off their overalls,
gloves and balaclavas, Mansell bundling the clothing into a garbage bag, ready
for burning. The clothing was evidence against them. When you went into a place
you left part of yourself behind, and when you left a place you carried part of
it with you. The forensic boys knew that, too.

    The job was done. Mansell and Riggs
were ready to leave but still Niekirk was wary. If Mansell and Riggs had the
opportunity to drive away with half a million, why should they be satisfied
with the twenty-five thousand dollar fee that De Lisle had paid into their
accounts?

    The silence stretched between them,
Niekirk at ease with it, Mansell beginning to show signs of strain. It was
always like that. There didnt seem to be an end point to Niekirks eyes, only
darkness,