Read Online Wyatt - 06 - The Fallout by Garry Disher - Free Book Online
Authors: Garry Disher
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stories
that surrounded Wyatt, making them add up to something more than the truth,
until hed asked, at the wake: Can I live with you, Uncle Wyatt?
What have you been doing? Wyatt
said now.
This and that. Then, slyly, Not
checking up on me, are you?
Wyatt said nothing. He searched deep
behind the open face. If Raymond was a user, his body would betray him. The boys
eyes were clear. No twitches. If Raymond were somehow wrong inside, like the
man whod fathered him, that might reveal itself as well. Wyatt needed to know.
The waitress came with their
coffees. For a moment, Wyatt wondered if hed seen something in Raymond, but
now it was gone. He blinked, and saw Raymond sitting across from him, cool,
very collected.
For the next thirty minutes, they
talked, Wyatt keeping the conversation away from himself, away from questions
about the past, always shifting the focus back onto Raymond. He had no use for
small talk and an abhorrence of the world knowing anything about him. If he had
to be the focus, he stuck to an abbreviation of the present. But Raymond was
equally withholding. To cover it, he sometimes made absurd wagers. Bet you
five the woman drives, he said, nodding at an elderly couple crossing the car
park to their car.
Finally he said, So, Uncle Wyatt,
lets cut the crap. What are you doing here?
Going home.
Home? No point asking where that
is?
Wyatt didnt reply.
As if to say, Im a better man than
you are, Raymond fished out a pen and scribbled on the back of a coaster. This
heres my address and phone number. Look me up next time youre passing through
Melbourne.
Wyatt nodded.
Look, no more bullshit, Raymond
said. Colour and embarrassment showed on his face. Those country banks? The
bush bandit? Thats me.
Wyatt waited for it to sink in. He
felt faintly shocked. After a moment, he said flatly, The bush bandit.
He supposed that it could be true.
Raymond wasnt boasting, just stating who he was now. Wyatt had no wish to
offer advice or warnings to his nephew, and there was nothing at risk for
himself, so he decided to leave it at that.
Never been caught, never even been
a suspect. I work alone. If I pick up something I cant offload, theres a guy
wholl do it for me.
Maybe I know him.
Chaffey. Lawyer in the city.
Wyatt shook his head. He was out of
touch.
Chaffey knows you, Raymond
said. I mean, he said hastily, catching the stiffening of Wyatts face, he
knows youre my uncle, thats all, knows all the stories about you, knows we
dont have anything to do with each other. He hasnt sent me to track you down,
if thats what youre thinking.
Good.
Although, Raymond said, he did
mention a job to me.
Wyatt waited. He could see now that
Raymond had been working up to this. I see.
I more or less turned it down,
Raymond said. Its an art collection, outside my field, plus Id need a
partner and I dont know anyone I trust enough to work with.
Wyatt felt a stir of interest,
almost an itch. What sort of art collection?
Raymond outlined the job swiftly. Worth
a hundred grand, he concluded. Chaffeys got a buyer already lined up.
Wyatt kept stony-faced. A hundred
thousand dollars, split two ways.
Think about it, Uncle Wyatt. This
is right up your alley. I wouldnt know a print from a poster.
Wyatt felt his nerve endings stir.
He looked around the marina, looking for the trap. You sure youre not
following me?
Raymonds face darkened. Fuck you.
For fifteen years I havent known where you were. How could I follow you? Pure
coincidence.
Okay, okay.
So, you interested?
Ill let you know.
Gloomily Raymond began to shred a
paper napkin. Dont suppose you need the money. You must have stashed a fair
bit away over the years.
Wyatt couldnt tell his nephew about
the big jobs that had gone wrong, the stuff hed left behind, the pissy jobs in
the past couple of years. A kind of sadness settled in him. If hed stepped in
all that time ago, he could have saved Raymond from a world in which the only
men he
that surrounded Wyatt, making them add up to something more than the truth,
until hed asked, at the wake: Can I live with you, Uncle Wyatt?
What have you been doing? Wyatt
said now.
This and that. Then, slyly, Not
checking up on me, are you?
Wyatt said nothing. He searched deep
behind the open face. If Raymond was a user, his body would betray him. The boys
eyes were clear. No twitches. If Raymond were somehow wrong inside, like the
man whod fathered him, that might reveal itself as well. Wyatt needed to know.
The waitress came with their
coffees. For a moment, Wyatt wondered if hed seen something in Raymond, but
now it was gone. He blinked, and saw Raymond sitting across from him, cool,
very collected.
For the next thirty minutes, they
talked, Wyatt keeping the conversation away from himself, away from questions
about the past, always shifting the focus back onto Raymond. He had no use for
small talk and an abhorrence of the world knowing anything about him. If he had
to be the focus, he stuck to an abbreviation of the present. But Raymond was
equally withholding. To cover it, he sometimes made absurd wagers. Bet you
five the woman drives, he said, nodding at an elderly couple crossing the car
park to their car.
Finally he said, So, Uncle Wyatt,
lets cut the crap. What are you doing here?
Going home.
Home? No point asking where that
is?
Wyatt didnt reply.
As if to say, Im a better man than
you are, Raymond fished out a pen and scribbled on the back of a coaster. This
heres my address and phone number. Look me up next time youre passing through
Melbourne.
Wyatt nodded.
Look, no more bullshit, Raymond
said. Colour and embarrassment showed on his face. Those country banks? The
bush bandit? Thats me.
Wyatt waited for it to sink in. He
felt faintly shocked. After a moment, he said flatly, The bush bandit.
He supposed that it could be true.
Raymond wasnt boasting, just stating who he was now. Wyatt had no wish to
offer advice or warnings to his nephew, and there was nothing at risk for
himself, so he decided to leave it at that.
Never been caught, never even been
a suspect. I work alone. If I pick up something I cant offload, theres a guy
wholl do it for me.
Maybe I know him.
Chaffey. Lawyer in the city.
Wyatt shook his head. He was out of
touch.
Chaffey knows you, Raymond
said. I mean, he said hastily, catching the stiffening of Wyatts face, he
knows youre my uncle, thats all, knows all the stories about you, knows we
dont have anything to do with each other. He hasnt sent me to track you down,
if thats what youre thinking.
Good.
Although, Raymond said, he did
mention a job to me.
Wyatt waited. He could see now that
Raymond had been working up to this. I see.
I more or less turned it down,
Raymond said. Its an art collection, outside my field, plus Id need a
partner and I dont know anyone I trust enough to work with.
Wyatt felt a stir of interest,
almost an itch. What sort of art collection?
Raymond outlined the job swiftly. Worth
a hundred grand, he concluded. Chaffeys got a buyer already lined up.
Wyatt kept stony-faced. A hundred
thousand dollars, split two ways.
Think about it, Uncle Wyatt. This
is right up your alley. I wouldnt know a print from a poster.
Wyatt felt his nerve endings stir.
He looked around the marina, looking for the trap. You sure youre not
following me?
Raymonds face darkened. Fuck you.
For fifteen years I havent known where you were. How could I follow you? Pure
coincidence.
Okay, okay.
So, you interested?
Ill let you know.
Gloomily Raymond began to shred a
paper napkin. Dont suppose you need the money. You must have stashed a fair
bit away over the years.
Wyatt couldnt tell his nephew about
the big jobs that had gone wrong, the stuff hed left behind, the pissy jobs in
the past couple of years. A kind of sadness settled in him. If hed stepped in
all that time ago, he could have saved Raymond from a world in which the only
men he
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