The Bat(114)

54


A Good Ear


A METALLIC VOICE came through the telephone loudspeaker.

‘His signal’s coming through on base stations 3 and 4.’

Yong pointed to the map of Sydney spread over the board. Numbered circles had been drawn to show the areas of coverage for the various base stations.

‘Pyrmont, Glebe and a chunk of Balmain.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Watkins swore. ‘Much too big an area. What’s the time? Has he tried to ring home?’

‘It’s six,’ Lebie said. ‘He’s dialled the number of his flat twice in the last hour.’

‘He’ll soon twig there’s something amiss,’ McCormack said, getting up again.

‘He hasn’t yet though,’ Harry said quietly. He’d been sitting still on a chair tilted against the back wall for the last two hours.

‘Any news on the weather warning?’ Watkins asked.

‘Only that it’s going to get worse,’ Lebie said. ‘Gale-force winds, hurricane force tonight.’

The minutes ticked by. Yong went for more coffee.

‘Hello?’ It was the telephone loudspeaker.

Watkins jumped up. ‘Yes?’

‘The subscriber’s just used his phone. We have him in base stations 3, 4 and 7.’

‘Wait!’ Watkins looked at the map. ‘That’s a bit of Pyrmont and Darling Harbour, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Shit! If he’d been in 9 and 10 as well, we’d have had him!’

‘Who did he call?’ McCormack said.

‘Our central switchboard,’ said the metallic voice. ‘He asked what the matter was with his home number.’

‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Watkins was as red as a beetroot. ‘He’s getting away! Let’s sound the alarm bells now!’

‘Shut up!’ came the stinging response. The room fell silent. ‘Apologies for my choice of words, sir,’ Harry said. ‘But I suggest we wait until the next beep before we do anything hasty.’

Watkins looked at Harry with his eyes popping out.

‘Holy’s right,’ McCormack said. ‘Sit down, Watkins. In less than an hour the block on the phones will be lifted. That means we have one, maximum two, beeps left before Toowoomba finds out it’s only his phone that’s still cut off. Pyrmont and Darling Harbour are not large areas in geographical terms, but we’re talking about one of Sydney’s most populated central districts at night. Sending a load of cars down there will only create the kind of chaos Toowoomba will use to escape. We wait.’

At twenty to seven the message came over the loudspeaker:

‘A beep has been received at base stations 3, 4 and 7.’

Watkins groaned.

‘Thank you,’ Harry said, disconnecting the microphone. ‘Same area as last time, which suggests he isn’t moving any more. So where can he be?’

They crowded round the map.

‘Maybe he’s doing some boxing training,’ Lebie said.

‘Good suggestion!’ said McCormack. ‘Are there are any gyms in the area? Anyone know where the bloke trains?’

‘I’ll check, sir,’ Yong said, and was gone.

‘Other suggestions?’

‘The area’s full of tourist attractions which are open in the evening,’ Lebie said. ‘Maybe he’s in the Chinese Gardens?’

‘He’ll be staying indoors in this weather,’ McCormack said.

Yong returned, shaking his head. ‘I rang his trainer. He wouldn’t say anything, so I had to say I was the police. Toowoomba’s gym’s in Bondi Junction.’

‘Nice one!’ said Watkins. ‘How long do you think it’ll be before the trainer rings Toowoomba’s mobile phone and asks what the hell the police want him for?’

‘This is urgent,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll ring Toowoomba.’

‘To ask him where he is?’ Watkins asked.

‘To see what’s happening,’ Harry said, picking up the receiver. ‘Lebie, check the tape recorder’s on and everyone keep quiet!’

Everyone froze. Lebie cast a glance at the old tape recorder and gave Harry a thumbs up. Harry gulped. His fingers felt numb on the keys. The phone rang three times before Toowoomba answered.

‘Hello?’

The voice . . . Harry held his breath and pressed the receiver to his ear. In the background he could hear people.

‘Who’s that?’ Toowoomba said in a low voice.

There was a sound in the background followed by children’s exuberant cries. Then he heard Toowoomba’s deep, calm laugh.

‘Well, if it isn’t Harry. Odd that you’re calling, because I was just thinking about you. There seems to be something wrong with my home phone, and I was wondering if you had anything to do with it. I hope you don’t, Harry.’