The night before was a wasted effort, Peta decided, but that still left two nights from now. According to what she’d heard on the tape, there was an informal meeting due to take place in a back room at the John Barleycorn. All she had to do, she figured, was get to the pub ahead of the couple she’d met when their friend was shot, and accidentally-on-purpose meet them again.
Peta wasn’t quite sure how the conversation would go after that, but she wasn’t too worried. If there was one thing that the student life had taught her, it was how to improvise.
That just left her with two days to fill. No classes, all her assignments complete, and nothing better to do than watch the teev for all her waking hours. One day, she’d pay off her overdue fines at the library and they’d let her borrow stuff again, but right now, there wasn’t much else to do but turn on the news.
The news was remarkable.
* * *
The news was horrible.
Even with Drysdale’s warning, McEwan wasn’t prepared for just how much heat the latest (and, undeniably, the greatest) exploit of the Brunswick Street Irregulars brought down on him and his co-workers.
But there was the Premier, and the Lord-Mayor of the City of Melbourne, and several state and federal politicians, and all of them on the news and the current affairs shows, talking about how this unprecedented outbreak of criminality was not their fault, but the fault of Victoria’s long-suffering police force.
McEwan toyed with the idea of calling in sick, but then realised that he’d only be deeper in the shit when he returned to work if he did.
On the plus side, as far as he was concerned, this confirmed the link between their dead body and the Brunswick Street Irregulars. Time to call his witnesses in for another round of questioning, he thought, and grinned like a predator.