Wyatt - 01 - Kick Back Read Free

the
ceiling.

    So, Ivan Younger said. Goall
right?

    Wyatt regarded him bleakly. He had
worked with Ivan Younger before. Ivan believed in diversity. For a fee hed
provide false papers, explosives, guns, plastic surgery, floor plans, maps of
security systems, a legitimate set of wheels. He had contacts in Telecom who
set up telephone diverters in his SP joints. He gave twenty cents in the dollar
for hot televisions and home computers. He was a middle man in insurance scams,
negotiating a cut of the victims refund or, as in tonights job, the reward
money. He had insurance clerks in his pocket, along with cops and magistrates
probably. And just lately there were rumours hed bought into the vice
operations of a Sydney syndicate expanding its Melbourne base.

    Now he was staring at Wyatt. Wheres
the stuff?

    Keeping well clear of him, Wyatt
stood where he could watch the door to the alley and the door through to the
showroom. He did it automatically, in the way that he also avoided lifts, call
boxes and other confined spaces, stood back from a door once hed knocked on
it, used crowds for protection, avoided unlighted areas. It was like breathing.

    Ivan said again, Wyatt? The stuff?

    Wyatt watched him warily. Ivan
Younger was older than Sugarfoot, about forty; cleverer, less belligerent, more
assessing. His bald head gleamed in the storerooms meagre light. He
compensated for baldness with a bushy, grey-streaked moustache. He wore baggy
linen trousers burdened with fussy pockets, and a bulky, brightly coloured
pullover. His tasselled Italian shoes snapped on the cement floor. He reminded
Wyatt of some sleek predator.

    Ivan folded his arms across his
thick chest, and leaned back against the bench. Is something wrong?

    Wyatts narrow face seemed to
sharpen. What do you fucking think?

    Tell me.

    Straightforward job, experienced
lookout, right?

    Right.

    Except theres this hidden agenda,
Wyatt said. We have a young punk who wants to learn a few tricks so hell be
useful to his older brother, and the older brother thinks, why not send him out
on a job with a pro?

    Ivan Younger shifted uncomfortably. Thought
it would do him good, he said, his high voice a register higher. What did he
do?

    Later, Wyatt said. Give me my
fee.

    Ivan pointed at a corner safe. Its
in there. I want the stuff first.

    Havent got it.

    Ivan stared at him. Did you get
into the place?

    Oh, we got in all right, Wyatt
said.

    Dont fuck around. How come theres
no stuff?

    My fee.

    No way. You deliver, you get paid,
that was the deal. If youre holding out for more, you can just fuck off.

    Wyatt stood lightly on the balls of
his feet, his fists ready. He kept half an eye on the alley door. He said, We
left the stuff behind.

    What the fuck for? You

    Sugarfoot Younger stepped in from
the alley. He was carrying a painting, another small one, a plain wooden frame
this time. Hey, Ive? He tell you what happened? Got cold feet and left the
stuff behind. I snuck this out, but. He began to cross the storeroom towards
them.

    What do you mean? Ivan said. There
were no paintings on the-

    He stopped. Wyatt had stepped behind
Sugarfoot and was jerking savagely on the ponytail. He had the pistol in his
other hand. He motioned at Ivan with it. You move and Ill blow his brains out

    Sugarfoot struggled. He had the
blockish body of a weightlifter but his large limbs lacked flexibility, his
arms bowed out at the sides and he was a head shorter than Wyatt. Get him,
Ive, he said, grunting the words.

    Wyatt ground the pistol barrel under
Sugarfoots jaw, cutting off his voice. The pressure on the ponytail forced
Sugarfoots head back. The painting clattered onto the floor.

    You want him tolearn
things? Wyatt said. He tugged hard on the ponytail in punctuation. Here are
some basic lessons. One, obey orders. Two, know your part. Three, no guns
unless the job demands it. Four

    He released the ponytail, stepped
back, and raked the pistol across Sugarfoots face.

    Stay out of this,