I was asleep in the Garden House, in a big bed in the middle of a large room, dreaming a dream of childhood, when the call came. My unconscious tried to work the mad-bird sound into its story but quickly gave up, let the noise wake me.
‘Mr Calder?’ A woman.
‘Yes.’ I was sitting upright, swung my legs out of the bed, put my feet on the floor, the warm floor, heated from inside.
‘It’s 12.14 a.m. The subject left the dwelling a few minutes ago, alone, in his vehicle.’
‘The casino.’
‘No. Travelling south-west on Sturt Street. The operative has him in view but the traffic isn’t heavy so there is some risk. Not great. We have two vehicles. Do you wish them to continue?’
‘Yes. Can I speak directly to your people?’
‘Certainly. I’ll instruct them to call you direct.’
I took the phone into the bathroom, wet my face, brushed my teeth, admired the stained-marble appearance of the whites of my eyes. Then I went back to the bedroom, opened a curtain and stood in the dark looking across the garden, misty rain around dozens of concealed ground lights. No lights showed in the main house, but, above the walls of what I thought was Pat Carson’s study courtyard, a faint glow coloured the wet air. A security light or perhaps Pat was sitting there, drinking the single malt and thinking the dark thoughts. Thoughts of Anne, of little Alice, who saved herself from slaughter but could not be healed; of Christine, who loved him like a father and heard voices, slashed her wrists, her throat, plunged sharp objects into her concave belly; of Jonty Chadwick, who must once have looked like an ornament to the family and ended up as Dr Happy, running a shooting gallery.
The dark thoughts. And those were only the ones I knew about.
There was a lot of darkness inside this family.
Mad-bird ring.
‘Calder.’
‘Mr Calder, time’s 12.36 a.m., subject’s driven into premises in Port Melbourne, a converted factory, the old Bonza Toys factory on Conrad Street.’ A male voice, hoarse, the voice of someone who sat in parked cars smoking cigarettes, breathing shallowly. ‘Opened roller doors from the vehicle. Either that or someone inside opened them. Door to the house in back righthand corner. There’s another vehicle in the garage.’
I was still looking at the main house, the glow where the old man might be sitting.
Please God, a people-mover, a Tarago.
‘Any idea what kind of vehicle?’
‘Guessing. New. Squarish back, I’d say Alfa Romeo, maybe Honda. Red, so maybe Alfa.’
‘The building, what can you see?’
‘The renovated part of the factory’s on the corner of Conrad and Castle, front door’s on Castle. There’s three lights in that, one’s a bathroom, toilet. The garage entrance is on Conrad. I’ve given the office the address, they’ll give you some ratepayers’ info pretty quick.’
‘Any way to get a look?’
‘There’s a building going up across the road, four floors, might be vision from there. We risk trespass.’
‘Risk it.’
‘I’ll have to have that authorised, I’m afraid. Be back to you.’
The waiting. You have to learn how to wait, how to let time drift by without nagging at it. I sat in the chair beside the window, steepled my fingers in front of my chin, closed my eyes. No Tarago in the garage. Why should it be there? How did the voice of hate on the phone fit in? Scripted?
The phone.
‘Mr Calder, the address in Port Melbourne, it’s in the name of a company, Tragopan Nominees. I have the directors’ names. Mr and Mrs E. J. Lamond of 27 Kandara Crescent, Rockhampton. Mrs Cairncross asks me to say that she has authorised the request from our operative on the understanding that the financial liability is yours. Are you agreeable to that?’
Call waiting pips.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
I ended the call and the mad bird warbled.
‘Calder.’
‘We have vision of two windows.’ Urgent voice. ‘Subject’s gone into curtained room with female. She appears to be handcuffed or hands tied behind back with something metallic.’
My heart filled my chest cavity, I felt the thumping pulse in my head, my arms. ‘Description?’
‘Blonde, shortish hair, youngish, he says.’
‘On my way. Where in Conrad Street?’
‘Park in Otway between Conrad and Jessup. I’m in a Yellow Cab just before Conrad.’
I got dressed, dark clothes, went across the hall to Orlovsky’s room, opened the door.
‘What?’ said Orlovsky, wide awake.
‘I think we’ve got her. Dark clothes, quick.’