Scrublands(112)

‘Okay. I’ll see she gets it. And this means we’re square, right? No more defamation threats?’

‘I guess. But no more about me in the paper, okay? Nothing. Good, bad or indifferent, I don’t want to see my name in your shit sheet again.’

‘And not your photo either,’ says Martin.

Snouch’s eyes bore into him, the alertness back. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Well, someone might recognise you. Terry.’

Snouch smiles knowingly, not thrown off balance in the way Martin might have expected; instead a sly grin concedes the point. ‘Very clever, Martin, very clever.’

‘So tell me, Harley: why did you ring Avery Foster from ASIO headquarters and tell him you knew that Byron Swift was really Julian Flynt?’

Snouch blinks at that, as if calculating how much more Martin might know. But when he replies, he does so with confidence. ‘That prick Goffing been telling tales out of school, has he? You should tell him to back off, or I’ll let his boss know what happened.’

‘Fine by me,’ bluffs Martin. ‘Do what you like to Goffing; he’s not my concern. But I still want to know why you rang Foster.’

‘Or what?’

‘Or I tell Mandy Blonde all about Terry McGill. And it becomes the next cover story for This Month.’

Snouch shrugs, as if unbothered by the threat. ‘Mate, I’ve got nothing to hide. I rang Foster to get Swift to back off, to leave town before the spooks and the coppers got him. I wanted him away from Mandy.’

‘Why?’

Snouch’s voice loses its untroubled tone and turns earnest; Martin hears an undercurrent of passion. ‘You know the answer to that—the guy was a predator. He was rooting her, he was rooting Fran Landers, he was into a widow down in Bellington and was grooming more. Mandy might not be my daughter, but her mum once meant a great deal to me. I wanted him out of town and out of her hair.’ He pauses, shakes his head. ‘But I was too late, wasn’t I? That boy of hers, Liam; he’s Swift’s, isn’t he?’

It’s Martin’s turn to smile. ‘But you didn’t need to ring Foster. You knew who Flynt was, what he’d done. And thanks to you, so did the authorities. The police would have arrested him soon enough.’

‘Don’t be so sure. We’re talking Canberra here. Bureaucrats and arse-covering. They’d already convened a meeting to work out how to minimise the damage. I wanted to make sure.’

‘No. I think you wanted to make sure Swift was gone, but the dope-growing operation wasn’t endangered. You wanted Swift gone, Foster compromised and the money still flowing. That’s how I see it.’

Snouch pauses, but doesn’t deny the allegation. ‘Who cares how you see it? It hardly matters now.’

‘Listen, Harley, I don’t know if you realise this, but you’re a great story. A cracker. The conman who conned ASIO, even as he helped run a hydroponic dope operation. That’s a yarn for the ages. It’s also a yarn that would make life very difficult for you, so you don’t want to piss me off.’ Martin scrutinises his adversary’s face, seeing residual defiance but also comprehension: Martin has him where he wants him. ‘But it doesn’t have to be like that. We can help each other.’

Snouch is receptive. ‘Go on.’

‘I’ll see Mandy undertakes the DNA test. But I want some information in return. First, was Swift a paedophile? You told me he was. You followed him around, spied on him, knew he was sleeping with Mandy and Fran and some widow in Bellington. Is the child abuse allegation accurate?’

Snouch considers his options before replying. ‘No. I didn’t see any evidence of that. Make no mistake, I wanted the guy gone, I wanted him away from Mandy, so I’ve got no reason to defend him. But I saw no evidence of that.’

Martin thinks it has the ring of truth to it. He knows the conman wouldn’t hesitate to lie if it helped his cause, but also that lying would be risky when Martin has him at such a disadvantage.

Now he and Landers have both exonerated Swift.

‘One more thing. You were the invisible man; you saw things others didn’t. Do you know why Swift shot the men at the church?’

Snouch shakes his head. ‘That I can’t tell you. I never saw it coming. It’s batshit crazy. But he did the same thing in Afghanistan, you must know that by now. Sometimes things don’t need a reason; they just happen.’

He smiles and offers his hand. Without thinking, Martin shakes it.

‘Thanks for coming, Martin. I know you don’t like me, I know you don’t trust me, but believe me, I have Mandalay’s best interests at heart. Whatever I’m doing, I’m doing for her. Please don’t publish what you know; it could end up hurting her more than it hurts me.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Trust me, Martin. When the DNA results come back, when she learns I didn’t rape her mother, she won’t want me turned into fodder for your shit sheet. Let it go.’

Martin nods, but looking past Snouch, the angle-poise lamp catches his attention. It seems somehow incongruous, here in the machinery shed. The desk, the computer, Harley Snouch’s spotless hands. Terrence Michael McGill. Five years. Master forger. ‘What’s on the desk, Harley?’

‘House plans. Some rough ideas about rebuilding.’