Shooting Star Read Online Free

Last time, that’s what happened. They did all their bloody police things. And we almost lost the child. The police didn’t save her. She saved herself. This time, we’re just payin.’
    ‘Give the cops another chance,’ I said.
    Pat shook his head. ‘No. No. They had their chance last time. Afterwards, nothin. They got nowhere. What they ask now, we’re payin. It’s only money, it’s nothin. The child safe. That’s what we want. That’s all.’
    I didn’t want any part of this and Pat Carson saw it in my face. Perhaps he saw other things in me, too, the way I had learned to see things in people, to read their bodies and faces, know their eyes.
    ‘And what you ask, we pay too,’ Pat said. ‘Your rate, forget your rate. When the child’s back, tell Graham the fee. No argument from anyone. Cash, bank cheque, any way you bloody want it.’
    He’d read me. He knew I’d hear the rustle of the money in the packet, salivate over the prospect of its chewy, salty, crispy taste. He’d looked at me and he’d read me.
    But I didn’t want to be readable. Better to spend more time in Footscray fighting with men in plastic neckbraces than be read by rich people.
    ‘For doing what?’ I said. ‘When they tell you what they want, give it to them. What happens after that is anybody’s guess.’
    I looked at Noyce. His eyes were on Pat. I met Pat’s eyes.
    ‘Graham can give it to them, Mr Carson,’ I said. ‘A cab driver can give it to them. Send the girls’ driver. The man’s got an interest in getting it right.’
    The room was silent. I’d said no. Time to excuse myself. Hope it goes well. I could go, but I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t say anyone can do it and then use the word hope. Although hope was what it would come down to.
    ‘Thanks for comin, Frank,’ Pat said. His lips moved, not a smile, some outward sign of a reflection on life, on himself perhaps. ‘Usually, the money talks. Not for you. I respect that in a man. Particularly a man who’s been a policeman. Goodnight. Graham will see you’re paid for your time.’
    I sat. Pat and I looked at each other. His eyes were the colour of first light in a dry country.
    ‘If it goes wrong,’ I said, ‘it’ll somehow be my fault. And I’ll blame myself too. For not having the brains to walk out now.’
    Pat’s right hand went to his throat. ‘All you have to do is give them what they want. No police stuff, nothing. What could go wrong? A cab driver could do it, not so? And blame? Yes. We’ll blame ourselves, blame you, blame the bloody stars above. Graham will give you ten thousand dollars tonight. Cash. An advance on your fee.’
    He looked at Noyce. Noyce looked at Tom, still languid before the fireplace. Something passed between them. Tom’s consent? Did Graham need Tom’s permission to follow Pat’s instructions?
    ‘Of course,’ Noyce said. ‘It’ll take an hour or so, Frank.’
    In my mind, I sighed a deep sigh. ‘A few things first,’ I said. ‘I want to talk to the driver. I’m not even being the bagman here unless I’m happy about him.’
    They all looked to Pat. He nodded.
    ‘Tom, your office line, it’s diverted?’
    He nodded.
    ‘Recording device?’
    ‘All incoming calls are recorded automatically,’ Noyce said.
    ‘Other family children. I’d bring them here till this is over.’
    ‘I think everyone at risk lives here,’ Noyce said. ‘That would be right, wouldn’t it, Tom?’
    ‘There are five houses in the compound,’ Tom said to me. ‘We’re the fucking Kennedys of Australia. The kids who aren’t here are overseas. We can’t bring them back.’
    ‘Okay. Which phone will ring?’
    ‘Next door. Diverted calls will ring next door.’
    ‘The girl’s parents, where are they?’
    A glance between Tom and Barry, between Tom and his father. ‘Mark’s in Europe,’ said Tom. ‘We’ll speak to him in the morning. Her mother’s not well. It’s better that we don’t alarm her.’
    ‘I’ll need to