McLoughlin placed the note inside the box, sealed it, addressed it to Major Peter Evans and returned to the post office. On his way back to the motel he was laughing out loud. He was immensely proud of what he’d done. “Yeeeees!” he exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Never let it be said McLoughlin was Mr Fifteen Percent. Those bloody gold bars are gonna get the arse too. Bugger all that. I need to sleep at night. I’ll just stick to me piss-ant salary and me even bigger piss-ant super.”
As he rounded the corner to swing back into the motel he noticed a black Mercedes Benz with darkened windows close by.
That’s the same bastard as yesterday, he told himself.
Immediately the hackles rose on the back of his neck and his laughter turned to a tinge of fear. When he drew to a halt outside his room he watched in the rear vision mirror as the vehicle slid quietly by. He jumped from his car and raced back down the driveway of the motel and cautiously peered around the corner of the building. The Mercedes had drawn to a standstill a short distance away.
Instantly he knew the situation. He ran back to his room, grabbed his mobile phone and dialled the number in Italy of Bruno Formicella.
“I thought you might call,” Bruno said.
“You can call your dogs off, OK! I’ll be leaving here in about twenty minutes. You tell ‘em after I’ve gone to come into the room and look in the fridge. I didn’t pick you as being one to welch on a deal!”
“The deal was $3,000,000. Not my gold as well.”
“I’ll leave the door open.”
“I hoped you’d see reason. Maybe…”
But McLoughlin didn’t let Bruno finish. Instead he pushed the OFF button on his phone. For a few moments he stood motionless, shaking his head in dismay. Were there no ends this man would go, to keep his wealth? McLoughlin knew if he’d played dumb there was no way Bruno could have or would have known he had the gold bars taken from his safe along with the $20,000,000. Like the money he’d just sent off to the Salvation Army, he was also planning the same fate for the gold. He wanted no part of it. To do so would have meant looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. He packed his belongings, stowed the gold bars in the fridge, paid for his room and left.
As he did, he drew alongside the black Mercedes. He motioned for the driver to wind down his window. There was a degree of reluctance on the driver’s part but after a few moments he conceded.
“You bastards better move your arse or the cleaning lady will beat you to it,” he called out.
Quickly the window zipped shut, the engine burst into life and the car sped off into the driveway of the motel. McLoughlin allowed himself a quiet chuckle.
“And it better be a long list of summers before you pricks cross my path again,” he said out loud.
As he drove away, suddenly he felt as if a great load had been lifted from his shoulders. He knew he’d just given up a fortune but was overjoyed at having done so.
“Guess that’s why blokes like me get to be coppers,” he murmured. “Spent my life trying to catch pricks like that. Doesn’t make much sense in becoming one.”
* * *
As he continued to drive towards Sydney after leaving South West Rocks and the showdown with the Weasel, McLoughlin’s mind swung to Kazumi. He reached for his mobile phone and dialled her number.
It was Katie Caplin who picked up. “Oh Ken! Wonderful…just wonderful to hear from you. Where are you?”
“Just out of Sydney. You still got that good lookin’ sheila from Hong Kong there?”
Katie laughed. “Talks about you every day.”
“Bullshit!” he laughed.
“I kid you not…hang on I’ll get her.”
McLoughlin changed lanes and pulled in to the side of the road.
“Hello, Sergeant Ken?”
“Did you think I’d call?”
“Everyday I watch the phone and think maybe it will ring.”
“How would you like to go out to dinner with a tired and grumpy old cop?”
“Oh Sergeant Ken, you coming down, yes?”
“Be there in a couple of days, OK?”
“That’s wonderful. You cook for me, yes?”
McLoughlin laughed. “I’d be delighted to cook for you. But you said I wasn’t allowed in your kitchen!”
“Miss Katie, she say you are and Miss Katie, she the boss lady, yes?”
“I think I miss you a little,” he told her.
“Oh Sergeant Ken. I think of you often. Will you stay long?”
“How long would you like?”
Kazumi giggled, “Could be trouble if I say.”
“What about a week or two?” he asked her.
McLoughlin heard a muffled shriek and the words, “Miss Katie, Sergeant Ken. He come for a week. Maybe!” Then to him, “You here in two days, yes?”
“Probably, but I’ll talk to you again before then. Is that OK?”
“Oh yes, Sergeant Ken. That very OK. I put Miss Katie back on. But you hurry. Yes?”
“I hurry,” he told her.
“A week?” asked Katie.
“I’ve got a few plans,” he replied. “Can Kazumi hear us?”
“No, she’s gone outside.”
“Good. What do you think? You reckon I could be a chance?”
Katie laughed lightly. “A chance? My God she can think and talk of nothing else. What happened with you two the night you stayed here?”
“No. Nothing! Cross my heart.”
“Well, something has happened to her and I’d suggest you are the only one who can fix the problem.”
“Well, if things work out, I want to take her away for a few days. I’d like yours and Gabe’s permission to do that?”
“No need to ask. Of course you can. Good heavens, we’d be delighted if something could happen with you two. And if you have to go away somewhere to do a bit of heavy breathing, then that’s fine.”
“Well I do believe you’ve made me blush a little, Mrs Caplin.”
Katie laughed. “But if you two get together, I wonder for how much longer? Why don’t you go away together for a while? Robe’s nearby. Wonderful spot.”
“I was thinking a bit further away.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll tell you after we’ve spent a bit of time together. And Katie?”
“Yes.”
“You and Gabe got a passport?”
“Er…no. No we haven’t.”
“Better get one. See you soon.”
Katie put the phone down and felt a tinge of excitement run through her body. A passport, she thought to herself. Well that is interesting. Something tells me big things are about to happen here. Big things.
* * *
The following morning, McLoughlin’s mobile phone rang when he was just south of Goulburn.
“Senior Sergeant McLoughlin? Commissioner Jack Rowland would like a word.”
Shit!