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bank’s money but decent and understanding, a man who never failed to count that air shot on the golf course that no-one saw. He pointed to the client’s chair.
    ‘Early for you. Reforming your habits?’
    I didn’t sit down. I went close to the desk, loomed over him.
    ‘Cynthia.’
    He frowned. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Cam thinks you might be the one.’
    Wootton’s hand went to his collar, fingers inserted above the tie knot, four fingers, not much room there.
    ‘Fuck, Jack,’ he said, ‘are you…?’
    I didn’t say anything, just kept looking into the brown eyes of Corporal Wootton, a corporal of stores. There wasn’t much to see.
    ‘Jesus,’ he said, emotion in his voice, ‘he can’t be bloody serious. Jesus, Jack, he’s not serious? Don’t tell me Harry…’
    ‘Cyril,’ I said, ‘if you are the one, say so now. I’ll give you two hours to arrange to give the money back, plus a hundred and fifty grand for Cynthia’s pain and suffering. And that’s letting you off lightly. You then disappear. Forever. I’ll try to keep Cam from coming after you. Try, that’s all I can do.’
    He looked at me in despair, mouth opening and closing. ‘No, Jack,’ he said, ‘no, no, no. You can kill me but no, never, I don’t know anything about it, she’s a friend of mine. I would never… Cam’s mad, I’d never ever do anything…’
    He tailed off, closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, shook his head like a dog with a grass seed in an ear.
    ‘Say so now, Cyril. You don’t want to wait for other circumstances. Hanged through the Achilles tendon from a meat hook, those circumstances.’
    ‘I swear. I swear. No. Jesus, no.’
    I sat down. ‘I’ll take your word on that,’ I said. ‘I hope that’s not a foolish thing to do.’
    Cyril opened his eyes, blinked rapidly, straightened his pinstriped shoulders, regained some composure. ‘Don’t take my word,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to take my word. Tell Cam to check me out, every last thing.’
    ‘I’ll tell him I believe you when you say you had nothing to do with it.’
    Cyril looked away, stroked his tie, a regimental tie, though certainly not the tie of his regiment. ‘Do you?’ he said.
    ‘For the moment.’
    His head turned. ‘I should bloody well hope so,’ he said in a cub-lion growling tone, recovering rapidly. ‘This your idea of fun?’
    ‘Of kindness, more,’ I said. ‘It was me or Cam. Or worse. Both. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy your snivelling.’
    ‘Christ,’ he said, sniffed, ‘threatening me, you’re supposed to be a lawyer.’
    ‘Things not always incompatible. I’m going to tell Cam I don’t think you need shaking. That’s an act of faith. If I’m wrong, Cyril, I’ll be there to see you dropped into that compactor in Hopper’s Crossing. They say it makes a noise like a dog chewing chicken bones.’
    ‘Jack.’ He cocked his head in pain.
    ‘Moving on then. I can’t look for this Colburne prick on what you’ve given me. What’s the story?’
    Cyril composed himself in an instant. ‘In that matter, your services are no longer required.’
    I shook my head. ‘What’s this, revenge? Don’t be petulant, Cyril.’
    He pointed to a copy of the
Herald Sun
on his desk. ‘Page five,’ he said, an expression of distaste on his face.
    I opened the paper at the page. The first item in a single-column collection of briefs had the headline:
Body in garage
.
    The story said:
A man was yesterday found deadin a car in a garage in Rintail Street, Abbotsford. Police identified him as Robert Gregory Colburne, 26, a casual barman
.
    The story went on to say that police were treating the death as accidental but were keen to talk to anyone who had seen Colburne recently.
    ‘There endeth the lesson,’ said Wootton, cold as the widow’s lips. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. People depend upon my understanding the concept of urgency.’
    I saw no reason to prolong this encounter or to