Hard Yards Page 5

  ‘Sounds like the Waco crew.’

  ‘Very much like the Waco crew – and many other Doomsday-type outfits sprouting across America. This particular sect – Seed of God – seems to be an offshoot of the white supremacist Christian Identity movement, which has strong links to the KKK. Naturally it takes a tough line on Jews, a race they believe comes from a union with Satan, and blacks and Asians, who are called ‘mud people’, because they have no souls. Seed of God is extremely hard line and committed. They have a compound, a barricaded ranch, deep in the Colorado badlands, and enough firepower and fanaticism to start a civil war, which is what they’d love to do. As far as they’re concerned, the National Rifle Association and the Ku Klux Klan should be governing America. Charlton Heston is leftist, according to them. Because he comes from Hollywood, he’s in bed with the Jews, the Satan worshippers, the sexual deviants, even the crack dealers. He is tainted by California. They also believe … well, a lot of stuff, most of which doesn’t seem to have anything to do with religion. But the bottom line is that planet Earth is headed for extinction because mankind has fucked up big time. This is destined to happen on Khormitch’s sixtieth birthday.’

  ‘How old is he now?’

  ‘Fifty-nine. So, they’re in the middle of gearing up for the transition to eternal life, and they don’t take kindly to anyone trying to screw their program, especially an African-American judge. Which is exactly what happened. You see, one of these survivalist maniacs, the one who was arrested, is Khormitch’s son, Carter Khormitch IV. He was given two consecutive life sentences, no parole. And the judge in the case was Julius Delfranco, Bunny’s old man. In his summing up, Delfranco said he would have put a bonfire under Khormitch if he’d had the power. He condemned Khormitch to death, but the sentence was commuted.’

  Barrett had caught the connection. ‘I think I can see where this is going now.’ But – interesting as this was – what did it have to do with him?

  Clasping and unclasping his hands, Langley said: ‘Khormitch Senior has sworn and declared on his grandson’s head he will even up the score by having Bunny Delfranco snuffed out during the Olympics – a son for a son. He claims Carter Junior suffered from Gulf War syndrome, and was exposed to dangerous chemicals when Saddam torched all the oil wells. He was a Marine, in the front line against Saddam’s Republican Guard. Personally took part in the liberation of Kuwait City. Earned citations for common and uncommon valour – got himself a Silver Star. Then his life went to pieces when he got home. Gulf War syndrome, they call it.’

  ‘Familiar story,’ Barrett said. He was thinking of an earlier conflict, a much earlier one now – a syndrome by another name, and one he knew intimately.

  Formosa said, ‘The hit man – or men – could easily be in Sydney right now, posing as tourists. Might be hidden in a group, a family, whatever. The authorities’ – and here he gave a knowing little smile – ‘have no idea what the hell they’re looking for. According to FBI sources, it’s more likely they’ll use a professional trigger man, possibly recruited from the Mafia, or an ex-soldier, rather than sect members, who would be willing, but could be more readily identified.’

  ‘Do you believe the threat is real?’

  ‘The FBI’s information is that the contract has been let. That’s good enough for me. Word is, there’s a million-dollar tag on Delfranco. You get a top-notch assassin for that price.’

  One million bucks. A sensation of intense dread was starting to expand in Barrett’s chest. He knew precisely what Langley was going to say next – read it clearly in the serious set of his face, his hand movements, the way he shifted forward in his chair.

  ‘We would like you to help look after – bodyguard – Bunny Delfranco, Barrett. Get him through these Games, send him home in one piece, and not in a coffin. After that, he’s someone else’s problem.’

  Watching Langley’s moist lips, Barrett experienced one of those critical, frozen-in-time moments: a sudden twisting of the heart, like a hooked trout leaping; an echoing in the ears, the feeling that his number had come up – again – and that there was little he could do to avoid it. He had felt this way three times before, and on each occasion the ensuing events had changed the course of his life. ‘It’s a big ask,’ he said, his own voice thin as tin in his head.

  ‘We understand that,’ Langley said quickly.

  ‘Why can’t he bring his own people from the States?’

  Formosa said, ‘That’s what his family wants, and it’s an obvious move. But Delfranco’s not an obvious man. He doesn’t want to be surrounded by guards everywhere he goes.’

  ‘He’d rather be dead?’

  ‘He’s young. Maybe he believes he’s bulletproof. He’s also expressed serious doubts about the alleged threat. Believes it’s a media beat-up. The lives of famous people are threatened all the time by all kinds of whackos, and in ninety-nine per cent of cases nothing ever comes of it. So he’s right about that.’

  ‘What about the police?’

  ‘No dice. I spoke to the Deputy Commissioner, and he as good as told me the police don’t provide a bodyguarding service for private individuals, unless the circumstances are exceptional, such as a state visit. In any case they don’t have the spare personnel. They have the big picture to worry about, and their rosters are firmly in place. Every cop in town is accounted for.’

  Barrett said, ‘There are going to be … what, more than five hundred thousand extra people here soon. It’s like a permanent rush hour in Manhattan now. Assuming the threat is on the level, how can you hope to protect one man against those odds?’

  ‘As you suggest,’ Langley said. ‘With a high degree of difficulty.’ Formosa was fingering the black folder.

  Barrett lit a cigarette. ‘Do the Olympic officials know about this?’

  ‘Both the IOC and SOCOG have been informed.’

  ‘And?’

  Langley gave one of his we-both-know smiles. ‘Mate, their plates are full to overflowing. After Salt Lake City, the fall-out from the bribery allegations, the Phil Coles affair, the marching bands controversy, the ticketing foul-ups … It’s been one damned thing after another. When I raised the matter to a senior official recently, do you know what his response was? He said, “Mate, I’ll pretend you didn’t tell me that.” He did, however, point out that security at these Games is a top priority, the heaviest it’s ever been in the history of the Olympics, which is certainly true. The Homebush Bay Village is patrolled around the clock, and the army flyboys have the stadium precinct stitched up tighter than a fish’s arse. It’s away from there we’ve got a problem. SOCOG can’t be responsible for an individual athlete’s safety once he leaves Homebush Bay, as much as their hearts might bleed for him, and the cops can’t come to the party. Does that answer your question?’

  ‘It does. It’s not very encouraging, however. Why can’t he stay inside the perimeter?’

  ‘For two weeks? You can’t make him do that. The sectional manager or his coach can impose restrictions, I guess, but otherwise if he wants to come and go, what’s to stop him? He’s an adult, an elite athlete. He’s interested in winning medals, and having a good time.’

  ‘But … what does he think about being bodyguarded?’

  ‘As I said, he doesn’t believe it’s necessary.’

  ‘He thinks it’s a fairy story.’

  ‘He thinks it’s a fairy story. But he’s about the only one who sees it that way.’

  Formosa picked up the spiel. ‘There’s something else you should know. Bunny Delfranco has a reputation for being … difficult. He’s only nineteen, but he’s onto his third coach and has recently fired his manager. He is supremely arrogant, and very secretive. It’s been suggested he doesn’t want a whole bunch of people trailing around after him, watching his every move, because he’s into steroids big time. We don’t know if that’s true or not, but it’s a factor. But we do know he threatened to beat up a reporter in Sacramento for putting it to him at a press conference. He was also arr
ested once for carrying a pistol in his car. In the States that’s a serious felony, but no charges were ever laid. Seems Daddy had a word in someone’s ear, or maybe he threw some cash in the right direction.’

  Barrett exhaled a lungful of thick smoke, then cupped his chin and gazed down at the space between his feet.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Langley said.

  ‘I’m thinking, this has all the hallmarks of a … a security nightmare. Christ. Athletes will be coming to town at all hours. They’ll want to see the bright lights and blow off steam. You know what Olympic Games are like. It’ll be total, disorganised chaos. And now you tell me he’s a drug-abusing, gun-toting egomaniac. You expect a boxer to pack a pistol in his car, but a track star? If what you say is even half true, he’s got flaws you could drive a fucking Humvee through. An experienced shooter with the right equipment could pick him off anytime. Not to mention the risk to anyone who happens to be near the target. What if your hit man’s a fanatic or an extremist of some kind? What if he doesn’t care who he kills? He might decide to walk into a crowded bar and open up with a machine-gun, or throw some grenades. It could end up a bloodbath à la Rome Airport, Oklahoma City or Munich. It’s not such a far-fetched scenario. No-one can prevent a catastrophe on that scale. Bin Laden, for instance, has sworn to hit America anywhere it hurts, and he’d know about this supposed contract on Delfranco. Not to mention the World Trade Center terrorists, who are said to have established themselves in Sydney in preparation for an attack, or that Japanese sect. Any of them could be targeting the Games here. You would have to put the subject in a secure building for the entire period, whether he liked it or not. Lock him up, only let him out when he’s training or competing. Chauffeur him around in an armour-plated vehicle. And he’s not going to agree to that, is he, even if we had one. He should at least wear protective clothing.’

  ‘He’s going to find it hard to break any records in a Kevlar jacket.’

  ‘Ah, Christ al-friggin’-mighty. He’s not going to agree to anything, is he?’

  ‘I strongly suspect not. He’s his own man. But those rather grim scenarios you’ve just painted are a police and government responsibility. Our concern – thankfully – is for individual security, like Bunny Delfranco’s.’

  Barrett shook his head. ‘You just said he doesn’t want to be protected, and that he’s shifty. There’s your second major hurdle. He’ll be his own worst enemy.’

  Langley said, ‘Barrett, we – Dolphin – have a monumental job on our hands. Frankly – and I don’t mind telling you this – I am wetting myself. You’ve given us a pretty bleak picture, and yeah, sure, anything’s possible, but we can only hope and pray that we don’t have another Rome or Munich or whatever. Experts are predicting a bio-terrorist attack in the near future. There are reports that the Russians have produced anthrax, plague and smallpox in huge quantities, and some of their bio-weapon scientists are being lured to countries like Iraq and North Korea. It’s pretty scary stuff. Yeah, I do know what Olympic Games are like. The eyes and ears of the world are on us. There’ll be upwards of thirty thousand media personnel, every mother of them hungry for a sensational story. This will be the biggest media smorgasbord in history. We screw up and our reputation’s right down the toilet. Our resources are going to be stretched to the limit as it is. No-one said it would be easy, but we have a major contract and we intend to honour it and see it through all the way to the closing ceremony.’ He shifted in his seat, then added, ‘The benefits are there, career-wise, to be shared around if we can come through the next month unscathed. Needless to say, the opposite applies if not. And, incidentally, if it’s any incentive, Judge Delfranco has offered Dolphin a bonus of two hundred thousand dollars for the safe return of his son. Half of that would go to you.’

  ‘Incentive? Jesus, man, Daddy’s money’s not going to solve this problem. Anyhow, why me? I’ve bodyguarded some, but I’m no expert. You need a younger, fitter guy. Yellow Pages are full of them.’

  ‘There aren’t many expert bodyguards in this country, of any age, simply because – fortunately – we don’t have that level of demand. And the Yellow Pages are full of cowboys, nightclub bouncers and crowd controllers who like getting into a stoush. We’re not interested in steroid-pumped pinheads. Don’t worry, we did all the necessary checking and double-checking before coming here. We compiled a short list, and you’re on top. Your CV stands out. In particular I refer to the Melvyn Platt case.’

  Barrett played his last card. ‘That’s all very well, very flattering, but … for a start, I don’t work for myself. I work for Lance Hoy, remember. I’d have to clear it with him, and he’s in Europe. Wouldn’t have a clue where.’

  Formosa said, ‘Cap d’Antibes, France. We’ve already contacted Lance by e-mail. He said, up to you entirely. Your call, Barrett.’ He withdrew a sheet of paper from his folder and gave it to Langley, who passed it to Barrett. It was indeed an e-mail from a five-star hotel in Cap d’Antibes, and it unequivocally stated what Formosa had told him: Barrett’s call.

  He read it through before returning it to Langley.

  ‘Titus “Bunny” Delfranco,’ he said, half to himself. ‘Fastest man ever. But not even you can outrun a sharpshooter’s bullet.’ And more to the point, nor can I.

  ‘A hundred thousand?’ he said to Langley.

  ‘That would be your share, yes.’

  Barrett sucked his teeth, and slowly shook his head. ‘It’s not enough.’

  Langley and Formosa fleetingly glanced at each other, then returned their gaze to Barrett.

  ‘Well …’ Langley said, frowning as he massaged his jaw. ‘There might be a little room to move on that …’

  ‘Hundred and fifty, or forget it.’

  ‘Christ,’ Langley said.

  ‘Look at it this way. It’s not your money to begin with, and you’re still copping fifty grand for doing nothing. Plus, Dolphin gets the credit, which will be good for business, as you say. Seems fair to me.’ And I could sure use the stake. I’m gonna need digs when Lance comes back.

  ‘Hundred and fifty,’ Langley said, and whistled soundlessly. Clearly he hadn’t expected this – but he’d made the mistake of telling Barrett how much the good judge was prepared to part with. ‘All right. Hundred and fifty it is. Are we agreed?’

  ‘… Agreed.’

  ‘Seed of God has a website,’ Langley said. ‘We’ve downloaded key sections of it for you. That’ll tell you where they’re coming from. Profile on the subject is also in there. He too has a home page.’ And he offered Barrett the black plastic folder.

  ‘Who hasn’t these days,’ he said, accepting it. ‘Matter of fact I’m thinking of getting one myself.’

  6

  Mai Ling waited a judicious ten minutes to make her entrance. She had showered and squeezed her black hair back and tied it in a red satin scrunchie. It was a fetching look. She wasn’t wearing Lance’s PJs, but a white, monogrammed dressing-gown Barrett had put out for her.

  ‘Good morning, Mai Ling,’ he said.

  ‘Good morning. What time is it, please? My watch has stopped.’

  ‘Twenty past nine. Did you sleep okay?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I did. But I must go. I have been a … a pest. I feel so stupid and embarrassed.’

  ‘Embarrassed? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not a pest, Mai Ling – you’re a guest. And anyhow, you can’t go yet because you haven’t had breakfast. I am about to make pancakes.’

  ‘Pancakes?’ She seemed to find the idea faintly amusing.

  ‘Yes, pancakes. Do you like them?’

  ‘Of course, thank you. But I feel … I’m intruding.’

  ‘Mai Ling. We have breakfast, I drive you to the clinic to get your lip fixed, then I take you home to Bondi Junction – or wherever you want to go. It’s no big deal. Then you’re free. Is that fair?’

  Abashed, Mai Ling gave Barrett the first real smile he had received from her.

  ‘Fair. Yes, of course. More than fair
.’

  ‘Good. Now if you want to be useful you can make a fresh pot of coffee. Can you do that?’

  ‘Coffee? No problem.’

  ‘Filters are on the bench. Coffee’s on the shelf. There, the Lavazza.’ He had poured some milk into a bowl and picked up three eggs from the wire basket next to the sink when the cordless phone went. Had to be Geoff – and it was.

  ‘Can you talk, or are you … compromised?’ the voice said.

  ‘Yes and no,’ Barrett said. Mai Ling was getting busy. He cradled the phone in the crook of his shoulder, wandered off towards the view and cracked the eggs into the bowl. ‘Did you find his lordship?’

  ‘Negative. Been up half the bloody night staking out his rat-hole. Got sick of waiting for the filthy little particle. Guess he had the sense not to go home. This merely confirms his complicity in my estimation. He’ll fucking keep for another day soon. I’m gonna shove a big stick up his date and roll him inside out like a leech.’

  ‘Did you report the incident to the cops?’

  ‘Cops? Don’t make me fucking laugh. Cops in this city would go through the place to see what they could pilfer. My Mont Blanc meistershtick and my CDs would go missing, and if I kicked up about it they’d come back and find a plastic bag full of pink rock or a crate of Kalashnikovs. But I know, I know – I’ll need to for the insurance.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘I’m at the Hyatt. Thought I deserved a special treat. Right now, I’m going to ring up a house-cleaning service, after which I’m into the full cooked breakfast. Then I am crashing out. Boom Crash Opera. You’ll feel the foundations shaking from your place when I hit the bed.’

  ‘The Hyatt? How in the fuck did you get a room there?’

  ‘Business, old son. These swanky hotels might say they’re booked out, but they always keep a couple of rooms free in case, you know, the Sultan of Brunei decides to turn up. All I had to do was call in a marker – the management happens to owe me in a big way.’

  ‘You sound like crap, Tex. Sound as if you’ve been chewing glass or something.’