The Dunbar Case(20)

You bastard. I'll expect more.'







There was a hamburger joint near the motel and we settled for that. Neither of us felt social. We took the food into our own rooms. I watched the news on television and read for a while. About 10pm I knocked on Twizell's door. He was in pyjamas, watching television.



Let's make an early start,' I said. Eight?'



He groaned. I saw several beer cans and miniature spirits bottles on the table. Nine.'



Eight-thirty then. Goodnight.'



I went back into my room and listened. If I'd been in his shoes and was planning to sneak away, I'd have made it look as though I was ready for bed and it wouldn't have hurt to have pretended to be drunk, but I doubted Twizell was playing games. He had nowhere to go and he was getting a free ride from me. I could still hear the TV half an hour later. Then I heard it go off and silence descended apart from the buzzing and humming-traffic and electronics-that seem to be with us no matter where we are.



I slept poorly and woke early. I killed time by Googling the Humpback Range so as to know a bit about where I was heading. There wasn't much information and it didn't surprise me that there were vineyards in the area. It's hard to go anywhere these days without vineyards.



The day had dawned fine. The breakfast I'd ordered for 7.29 came on time. The coffee was hot and the toast wasn't soggy. No sound from next door, which surprised me. I'd picked Twizell as a morning TV viewer.



At 8.20 I knocked on his door and got no answer. I swore and tried the handle. The door was open. The room was a mess. There was no sign of Twizell or his bag. No toiletries. I swore again and left the room. I stood there fuming for a few minutes, then a Nissan Patrol pulled in from the road and up to the slot for Twizell's room. He jumped out and greeted me cheerfully.



Can't go where we're going in that rattletrap Falcon of yours, Cliff. I hopped over to Mayfield by cab and picked up my car. Then I went for a swim.'



He showed no signs of the night's drinking.



Why did you take your stuff if you knew you were coming back here?'



He grinned. Just wanted to give you a fright.'



Were you followed?'



That took the wind out of his sails a bit. What?'



I told you Hector wouldn't just give in.'



Yeah, funny thing is, I thought I was being watched the other day. I suppose that was Hector or one of his blokes. No, I kept an eye out this morning and I don't think I was followed. Tell you what, you can pay for the gas. Ready to go?'



I wasn't and I said so. He took out a tissue and rubbed at a spot on the gleaming duco. I was annoyed at his game-playing and I don't like petrol being called gas, but I couldn't help smiling. One to you, Jack.



We got going with Twizell driving. Like me, he was in country clothes now-jeans, boots, windbreaker-except that his were new. I wondered where the money for the clothes, the squash gear, rent for the serviced apartment and the car had come from. I didn't ask, I had a feeling he'd lie. But it was something to think about.



The route was north-west and the distance about a hundred kilometres. We rolled through the Newcastle suburbs into the lush Hunter Valley country where they can pursue almost any agricultural and pastoral activity. The web had told me that the area had been hard hit by the floods of the year before and I could see some signs-dead grass woven into wire fences, fresh paint on new fence rails and deep gullies in paddocks where flash floods had run through.



He turned on the radio and we heard the news about the killing of Osama Bin Laden. We listened in silence to the long report.



When it finished Twizell said, Raghead bastard. Good riddance. What do you reckon?'



I'm not sorry he's dead, but I don't much like the sound of the way they went about it.'



Only way, mate.'



What would you know?'



He laughed. I've done a bit.'



Where? When?'



Best forgotten.'



That made another thing I didn't know about him. It was an uncomfortable feeling. He was a volatile type, a mood switcher. I reminded myself not to take him lightly.



Vineyards and a township and then we were in scrubby country and on the upslope. The range ahead was blue in the distance and took on the typical grey-green colour of the bush the closer we got. We left the tarmac for a dirt road that had been reasonably graded and gave the big 4WD a smooth ride. Then it was off on a rougher road and onto what was really just a track through sparsely wooded country cut by a succession of shallow streams, some of them little more than linked puddles. Twizell enjoyed splashing through them and using the squirter to clean the windscreen.



Way to go,' he said. When we came here last it was in an old ute. Jolted us and I got bogged once. What are you doing?'



I'd hit the window button and was staring out. Trying to see if any vehicle has passed by recently. What do you think?'



I'm no bushman, mate. The bush is just somewhere for me to have fun in. Get me underground and I can read the signs like an Apache; up here I'm just a tourist.'



I wasn't a bushman either, but I fancied I could see tyre tracks in spots and there was a sheen of oil in one of the ruts made by a vehicle spinning its wheels after crossing a stream. It looked fresh. The climb got steeper and then levelled out.



Twizell pointed to some rusted machinery on a concrete slab, all overgrown by creeper. Used to be an army training camp of some sort out here. Fair bit of equipment left behind the way they do. Wasteful buggers. The cottage was for the caretaker. All gone now.'



How far to go?'



About one k.'



Stop. We don't want to advertise ourselves.'



Why not? Oh, Kristie's tough guy. You're scared of him, aren't you?'



No, Jack, I feel the same way about him as I do about you.'



He stopped the car and worked his shoulders loosely. And how's that?'



I hadn't formulated it fully but I did now. I don't trust him and I don't want him to get the jump on me.'



Fair enough,' he said. I feel just like that about you.'



I nodded. Always good to know where you stand.



Give me the keys,' I said.



What?'



Jack, you're the chauffeur and guide on this trip, but you're not the boss. Give me the keys.'



Fuck you,' he said, but he tossed me the keys and I locked the Patrol and pocketed them.



Got your gun?'



Don't worry about it,' I said.



Anyone who doesn't worry about guns is an idiot.'



You're right there.'

 
 

  19





We walked along the track keeping as quiet as we could, although I doubted we'd be walking into serious danger. After a while Twizell gestured to me and I followed him into a clearing roughly the size of a tennis court. The area had been excavated but not levelled, and it had been scoured by the flood. The surface was rocky with boulders sticking up here and there. At the end of the clearing a huge rock jutted up abruptly. The face looked smooth in spots and, while it wasn't anything like fifty metres to the top, it was high enough and I'd have said impossible to climb.



That's the fucker,' Twizell said. A cunt of a climb. I pity those poor bastards of army trainees who probably had to go up it before breakfast, lunch and dinner.'



Did Kristie climb it?'



He laughed. She tried. Got stuck two-thirds of the way there. I had to go up and around and throw her a rope.'



Game of her to try.'



She was game all right, and a very good root.'



We rejoined the track and moved forward. Twizell kept to the edge and the tree cover and I followed. I had the .38 in a shoulder holster under the denim vest I was wearing and I hoped it'd stay there, warm and cosy. Twizell was enjoying himself and exaggerated his watchful movements as we drew closer to where he said the cottage was. Still, he seemed to know the rudiments of a covert approach. He pulled back under the branches of a spreading eucalypt and pointed.



The cottage is just around this last bend. What do you want to do?'



Stop playing Hollywood heroes and go and see if they're there.'



You're no fun.'



A helicopter passed over and Twizell looked thoughtful. Probably interested in chop-chop out here. They hide it in vineyards. Nice business to be in if you've got the protection.'



Business at hand, Jack,' I said, not your entrepreneurial future.'



We rounded the bend and walked into a large clearing in front of a green-painted fibro cottage with a brick chimney. I was reminded of the derelict Tanner house at Dudley, except that this showed signs of constant maintenance- weeds slashed, cement paths swept and windows intact. A big white SUV stood near the cottage with its rear hatch wide open.



Nice wheels,' Twizell said. Kristie's riding high.'



We walked towards the cottage.



What does this guy do?' Twizell asked.



I didn't reply.



The cottage door opened and Templeton stepped outside.



One of the things he does,' I said, is stay alert and we'd better do the same.'



I raised a hand. Gidday, Rod.'



Hardy,' he said. And this must be Johnnie Twizell.'



Jack,' Twizell said. He moved forward and stuck out his hand. I could tell he was measuring Templeton for height, weight and capability. At that point I would've put my money on Rod, but Jack was tricky.



Templeton shook his hand casually while looking at me, evaluating. Come to see Kristie, Hardy?'



That's right.'



Templeton was wearing cord trousers, boots and a flannie over a Newcastle Knights T-shirt. He hadn't shaved for a few days but his eyes were clear and he had the look you saw in some boxers, like Ali, and some AFL players, like James Hird-perfect balance. How about you, Jack?'