Directive RIP

  22

  ‘Freeze!’

  Riley had his gun trained on a bloodied Johnny Condrey, who was stepping out the door of the wrecked apartment with Furn flung over his shoulder; through the gaping hole in the window behind them the end theme to the Elvis Presley film was blaring.

  ‘Don’t shoot,’ replied Condrey. ‘I’m not trying to steal your man. I’m simply taking him to the busted-up cop collection point.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ Furn called out from behind his back. ‘Just a slight headache. And waiting for the feeling to return to my legs.’

  Condrey lowered him onto the cobbled walkway, next to where Nashy was attending to Purvis, plugging the bullet hole in his shoulder with a blood soaked handkerchief.

  Furn rolled back luxuriously. Sometimes a bed could be equally as comfortable as this street. Sometimes but not often.

  Condrey straightened up again to see that he still had Riley’s gun trained on him. ‘So, you know me then?’

  ‘Yeah, I know you,’ Riley replied.

  ‘If you did, you’d be aware there are much better reasons to shoot me than this. I even put his pistol back into his holster. In normal circumstances I would have blown that guy’s head all over the wall and let the pistol sit nice and easy in your unconscious man’s hand. It wouldn’t have even be a frame up ‘cause cops just get promotions for things like that.’

  Riley flicked his gun toward the shattered window. ‘McNaught’s in there?’

  ‘That’s his name? McNaught? Makes sense ‘cause he’s come to naught. He’s in there resting up for his day in court.’

  ‘Resting?’

  ‘Well, not exactly. My method of restraint predates the Iron Age. They didn’t use handcuffs in those days. If they didn’t want someone to move, they clobbered them on the head.’

  ‘Would you kindly bring him out here.’ Riley tossed him his cuffs. ‘This isn’t the Iron Age. Call out if you need some help.’

  ‘Sure. I’d be in breach of my parole if I didn’t fully cooperate with a law enforcement officer. Although I might be already be in trouble if you count what I did in there as associating with a known felon.’

  ‘Do it, will you,’ shot back Riley. He knelt down over Purvis. ‘How’s he doing?’ he queried of Nashy.

  ‘Tell me an ambulance is coming,’Nashy replied.

  ‘Yeah, but we underestimated McNaught,’ Riley rued. ‘I’d have had the ambulance camped on Cumberland Street if I’d known any better. That’s the siren now.’

  Nashy painfully clutched her ribs as she shifted position.

  Riley looked from the eerily quiet apartment to Furn. ‘You put Condrey away a couple of years. Now he’s out saving your butt. What’s the connection? He liked prison that much?’

  Furn stood up as gangly as a newborn giraffe and pulled out his pistol. ‘Let’s find out.’

  He walked into the apartment. Condrey was casually rolling an unconscious McNaught along the floor with his feet. He gave the pistol the barest glimpse.

  ‘Someone should explain to this guy when you throw someone through a window the slower the better. Makes a lot more mess.’

  ‘Why did May send you? How did you know we were here?’

  Condrey toyed with the handcuffs, keeping a foot on McNaught. ‘How about the color coordination in this place. I always wondered what kind of person bought a pink leather sofa, and now I know. He’s flat on his face behind it. If there was another window in this room, I would be of a mind to throw him through it.’

  A howl of siren announced the ambulance onto the scene. Condrey dropped the handcuffs onto McNaught’s chest. ‘You weren’t really expecting a gangster like me to make a citizen’s arrest, were you? I’m going to take a walk before the more serious sirens get here. Saving cops like you is probably a parole violation in itself.’

  Furn watched him leave the apartment. His gun aimed itself at McNaught the way a conjurer’s rod pointed at underground water. He handcuffed him just as he started to rouse. He wasn’t much to look at with a bloody nose, a fat lip and puffed up eyes. Furn hauled him to his feet. ‘Come on, sucker. I’ve got good news for you. Where you’re going you’ll find it’s a living statue’s paradise.’

  ‘You weren’t the one that took me down,’ spat McNaught, ‘so shut your trap.’

  ‘That’s true. But the second best thing was being there to see it.’

  On the way to steering him out the front door, Furn heard stirrings from behind the pink sofa.

  ‘Stay there,’ he called out at the woman. ‘I’ll get someone to look at you.’

  There were plenty of paramedics around Purvis. Furn tapped two that weren’t doing much and alerted them to the collateral damage.

  Purvis was already in a stretcher and hooked up to an IV drip. His hair was soaked in perspiration. His cheeks were sandblasted marble. Looking at him, Furn couldn’t help but feel better in his own condition.

  ‘Leave him with Azu,’ said Riley through gritted teeth. ‘This is her crime scene. You and I are going to Melbourne. You have concussion, so you’re in the backseat with Wragg.’ He grabbed McNaught by the shirt. ‘You’d better look up ‘cause you’re about to lose your sky for a very long time.’ He slapped him out of his comeback at the first word.

  Nashy arrived, taking McNaught’s arm and there was an exchange of handcuff keys with Furn.

  ‘This catch is so rotten even fishers would notice the smell,’ said Furn.

  ‘Do you still have Dr Dae Chul’s phone number?’ asked Nashy of Riley. ‘They’re taking Purvis to Saint George Hospital.’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Riley. ‘With the business we’re in I have him on speed dial.’ He stepped into space, pulling the phone from his jacket. ‘First, I’m going to call in all units. This crime scene is your reward for a job well done, so make the most of it.’

  Furn started towards Wragg Dokomad, though Nashy caught him by the arm and whispered into his ear, ‘There’s another crime scene I enjoyed more than this one. I’m going to miss it.’ Her breath was warm and sweet and then she let go. And that was that. No parting exchanges except for their handcuff keys.

  Furn used his to uncuff Dokomad from the picket fence. Dokomad’s face was more drawn out than in his picture. Dark oily hair and foggy blue blobs of oil for eyes. A slit chin and a cold, pale complexion that showed no affection for sunlight. Its docile expression, however, was just a rouse. The instant his hand was free he exploded to life, putting a tablet into his mouth.

  ‘Get it!’ Riley screamed.

  But it had already been swallowed. The mouth then sneered victoriously.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not a suicide pill,’ he said. ‘Why would I want to do that? I’m a paid up life member of the Sapiens.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ murmured Furn.

  ‘Nice try. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.’

  Furn reset the handcuffs and frisked him; he came up with a mobile phone and a wallet containing a forged driver’s license, someone else’s cash cards and five Sapien calling cards scrawled out in the customary red ink. Furn took particular notice of the calling cards.

  Dokomad chuckled threateningly. ‘That’s what I’m talking about.’

  Riley took them out of Furn’s hand, added them to the three he had found on McNaught. ‘For every one of these there’s a deplorable criminal act left uncommitted. That helps coagulate the blood we have spilled.’ He glared at Dokomad. ‘That wasn’t a vitamin pill either, was it? A global positioning device? Well, your friends are welcome to join us. We’d be happy to meet every last single one of them.’