An Unholy Union by Peter Ralph

Author:Peter Ralph [Ralph, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime fiction - The Mob, Crime fiction - The Unions, Crime fiction - Political, Crime fiction - Thrillers, Crime fiction - Suspense, Crime fiction - Whiite-Collar, Crime fiction - Finance
Publisher: Peter Ralph
Published: 2018-05-16T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

It took Ratsy and Cas less than a day to cover the twenty-five miles of coast between Coolangatta and Southport after stopping at Currumbin, Burleigh Heads, and Broadbeach. As they drove along the Gold Coast Highway, Cas said, “I know why Luke bought us a minivan, but why dark blue?”

“It’s obvious, Cas. He doesn’t want us seen at night.”

“Of course.”

“There’s not much to see, is there?” Ratsy said. “Sand, waves, and high-rises.”

“You have no appreciation of beauty,” Cas replied. “We better get you some sunscreen in Southport. You’re as white as a ghost. If you’re not careful, this sun will fry you.”

“Says he with the olive skin. Whatta we gonna do now?”

“Let’s head up into the hinterland and find somewhere we can get a cold beer.”

“Hold that thought, Cas. We’ll have a look at the hills, but let’s go to Brisbane for that beer. The faster we get that out of the way, the faster we get on with what we’re here to do, and the faster I get home.”

“What are you talking about? You promised Luke you’d stay for a year.”

“Yeah, I know, but he’s not gonna need us for that long. After we’ve finished, no one’s gonna give him any trouble. Follow the sign that says ‘Mount Tamborine, Brisbane.’”

Two hours later, Ratsy said, “There’s hardly anyone on the streets. It’s a dead city. If it weren’t for the girlie bars and pubs, no one would be here.”

“Do you want to go for a walk? Have that beer?”

“Nah, keep driving, Cas. It’s only a mile or so to Fortitude Valley. We’ll have a drink there.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Hey, that place will do.” Ratsy pointed at an old, three-story hotel. “Shit! Who calls a pub The Elephant?”

There were a handful of drinkers in the bar, and Cas ordered two beers.

“What will it be, mate? Middies, schooners, pots, or pints?” the barman asked.

“Whatever’s the biggest,” Ratsy snapped.

“That’s pints,” the barman said, filling two large glasses. “What part of America are you from?”

“Illinois,” Cas said.

“I don’t think I know it.”

“What about Chicago?”

“Of course. If you had said Illinois was part of Chicago, I would have known where you were talking about.”

“Of course, you would’ve.” Ratsy grinned, knocking the froth off his beer. “I needed that.”

“You prick,” Cas said.

“Just having some fun with the natives,” Ratsy replied. “This is not a bad drop.”

“Yeah.” Cas yawned. “Are you ready to head back?”

“Let’s have another beer. Hey, barman, another two pints.”

As the barman poured their beers, Ratsy said, “Is it always this quiet? It’s like a morgue.”

“Like a morgue, aye?” the barman replied. “It’s Tuesday night. What do you expect? Why don’t you come back on Friday or Saturday night? You won’t be able to move.”

“We might just do that,” Ratsy said.

As they climbed back into the minivan, Cas said, “Where now?”

“Let’s check out the other pubs. One with a large adjoining parking garage or an alley nearby would be ideal.”

“Okay. What’s the plan tomorrow?”

“We’ll tell Luke we’re a week ahead of schedule and want to start at the foundry on Thursday.

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