Michele Bravo Playing With Fire, Chapter 14

Six miles northeast of downtown Sydney is the affluent suburb of Dover Heights. In preparing for her “gaslighting” of Gus Keller, she had devised a scenario in which their (her and Keller’s) apparent employers lived in an upscale home in a secluded location.

Janasz had suggested that a home in Dover Heights would be just the thing. He would find one with a private beach, surrounded by an acre or so of woodlands, and rent it for three weeks, as per her instructions.

Before committing to the rental, he had sent her photos of the house and grounds, and she had sent him back her approval. Now, as they drove up the long driveway to the home, she recognized it, and saw that it was even more beautiful – and more secluded – than she had gathered from the photographs.

The house was three stories in height, situated at the crest of a hill with a beautiful view of the ocean beyond. A spiral iron staircase led down to the white sandy beach below. The driveway on which they had driven to the house had rambled through countryside that seemed to have been planted deliberately, on the left hand side of the road the woods were thick, on the right hand side, scattered sparsely. She could just barely see the difference between the two sides with the full moon providing silvery illumination.

Janasz pulled the Caravelle into a two-car garage, and he and Adams got out of the front seat while Michele and Keller stepped out of the back. The other space was filled by a bright yellow convertible. It was gorgeous. Keller had to force himself to stop salivating at the thought of it.

“Through here,” said Janasz, opening an inner door that led into the house itself. “Shoes, please,” Jansasz said, and they all took off their shoes and left them by the door.

He led them in their stocking feet through the hallway into a large, luxuriously furnished living room (the house had been rented furnished) with ocean-blue pile carpeting and white leather furniture, looking like tiny icebergs bobbing on the seas.

“Drinks?” asked Janasz.

Keller looked at Michele, who didn’t speak. “I’ll have a whisky,” he said gruffly. “Neat.”

“Just water for me,” said Michele.

Janasz handed glasses out to them, then fixed drinks for himself and Adams.

Once they were seated, Janasz said, “Well, here we are.”

“Indeed,” said Michele. “Ready to hear your proposition, Mr…Janasz.”

“Well, this is it. There’s an opal mine, out at Lightning Ridge. I own it, with my partner. And …I want to own it all alone. It’s as simple as that.”

Michele nodded. “Sounds simple enough.”

“He’s here in town, now. But he’s heading out to Lightning Ridge in another week or so. I want you to do the job there.”

“Why there?” asked Michele. “Why not in Sydney? He’s walking along, late at night, he gets attacked and knifed by a mugger, he dies. Easy.”

“Alain…that’s his name…Alain Pretorius….doesn’t walk along at night. At least, not without half a dozen mates. And you’d have to see Pretorius….he’s….” Janasz sketched his dimensions. “Six feet six, and built like a brick wall. No, Lightning Ridge is the place to do it. Or not even at Lightning Ridge, but on the way there or on the way back.”

Michele raised up her hands. “We’re the professionals here, Mr. Janasz. Suppose you let us decide were we do it. We need to research the man thoroughly. Put together a dossier on him. Where is he right now?”

“Well…” Janasz smiled warmly. “As a matter of fact he lives just the next house over. We bought all this land together, back when we were…more friendly than we are now. Divided it into two and built two houses. We share the beach and the back grounds. He stops by quite often. In fact, he’ll be here tomorrow night. I’m having a cocktail party.”

“We’ll want to attend that,” said Michele.

“Of course. As a matter of fact, I was thinking, why don’t you two put up here? There’s plenty of room. There’s a gym in the basement, there’s private swimming off the beach, plus you could get in some skeet or trap shooting if you so desire.”

“I like that idea,” said Michele. “We will take you up on your offer.”

Keller looked at her sharply. What the hell?

“Separate rooms, of course,” Michele told Janasz with a smile. “Mr. Largo and I are colleagues, nothing more.”

“Of course,” said Janasz. “Indeed, why don’t I show you through the rooms, and you can take your pick?”

As Keller followed Michele and Janasz through the tour of the upstairs bedrooms – and they were all luxurious – he was thinking furiously. Whatever plan Taran Tula had for her assassination of this Praetorius fellow, surely it was a mistake to be seen in close company with the men that were actually doing the hiring of the hit! What could she be thinking!

Slow down there, cowboy, Keller told himself. Don’t go thinking you’re actually going to kill this guy. You’re going to stop this assassination. So don’t go trying to think how you’re going to kill him, think about how you’re going to keep from killing him. And at the same time, you get to live in this really swank joint for a few days.

“Suitcases.”

“What was that, Mr. Largo?” asked Michele.

“Our suitcases are still at the hotel,” Keller told her.

Michele turned to Janasz. “You have a car you can put at our disposal, don’t you?”

“Of course. You saw that yellow convertible in the garage. Feel free to use it.”

“Very good. Well, I will go back to the hotel and pick up our bags and check out. Mr. Largo, would you mind staying here and start putting together a preliminary dossier on Mr. Praetorius?”

“Sure,” said Keller.

“Then I’ll excuse myself, and be back in an hour or so.”

Michele walked out of the room.

Keller turned to face the two men…looking into their friendly faces…hiding black hearts.

“Another whisky,” he said.

“Of course, Mr. Largo, of course,” said Janasz obsequiously, hurrying back to the bar.

Hmm… thought Keller. Janasz certainly was afraid of him. He found himself liking that…liking the fact that his mere presence caused fear in other people…even if they were black hearted bastards…