Pike's Pyramid. Michael Tatlow
over the world. It’s top-class stuff. Marvellous value.’
‘I suppose on top of Argo’s product profits, the high rollers with networks in Prague, including you now, Richard, take thirty percent from product sales there. As you do here.’
‘You don’t know that,’ the professor declared bluntly. ‘It’s privileged information. Never, ever peddle that to your downline.’
Yes, master. Pike nodded his head in mock adulation. He had seen proof of the secret thirty percent. ‘And then there were the bloody Czech registration charges. We didn’t know a damn thing about that when we left Australia. A lovely little bloke called Pavel was our first Czech downline. He found out about the registration and taxes, and came back to me stunned.
‘He’s about forty, owns a little shop selling cakes his wife and mother make. You’ll love them. The future of Pavel’s family depends on us.
‘Pavel simply didn’t have the money to pay that rego tax and he was upset we hadn’t told him about it.’
Looking concerned now, De Groote nodded. Pike finished his cider. He pined for a cigarette.
‘Alex and I will keep faith with our Czechs,’ Pike said. ‘Pavel and Elishka have even got that article about you in Argo Life stuck up on the wall in their shop. They have five young kids, living in a four-room flat in a grey building that looks like a bloody great concrete brick. We want to give them the chance to get out of it!’
De Groote sipped his riesling, gazing out at the city lights through rain on the window. ‘Jerry happened to ring me after you called from Melbourne. He sends you and Alex his love. And he told me about Jack Sussoms’ death.
‘A horrid business. Abe Harbek’s top boys have had a good look at it. There’s no way that Argo people are involved.’
What else would they officially decide? Pike asked himself. ‘I’m not so sure,’ he replied. ‘Old Jack reckoned there’s a gang of network crooks who stood to lose millions, and go to jail, if he scuttled them.’
‘A random thief killed him, Blarney.’
‘So why take Jack’s pad of notes? Why leave behind a stack of travellers cheques? Why torture him?’
De Groote laughed dismissively. ‘There are no crooks in Argo. Old Jack had lost it.’
‘I saw a bit of Jack’s dossier about it, Richard. It’s missing.’
‘Jack was a master salesman, Blarney. He conned you.’
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Pike allowed. ‘What a dream vehicle Argo is for peddling dope and washing money! People travelling everywhere. Cargoes paid for in cash, going all around the world. There are cut-throats in Prague who’d…’
De Groote looked pained. He knew manifestly that Jack Sussoms’ throat had been cut.
‘Sorry. There are crooks there,’ Pike hammered, ‘who’d kill you for a Starbucks voucher. And Argo’s ready-made for distributing weapons coming out of Russia. Jack was going to present his evidence to Abe Harbek.’
De Groote buttered a bread roll, looking further affronted. ‘If Abe’s team found any filth…’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Splat!’
‘And no publicity,’ Pike observed. He wondered to himself if Bell, and now De Groote, knew about the punch-up at Prague’s airport. He decided not to mention it.
‘Yes, Abe kept most of it out of the media,’ De Groote said. ‘Did you expect him to hold a news conference about Jack’s murder?’
The professor refilled his glass, aggravating Ned. ‘Today Jerry instructed that under no circumstances is the matter of Sussoms’ death, or anything less than positive achievement at the Czech Republic opening, to be reported to the downlines in Tasmania. Any violation will put the offender’s business in dire jeopardy.’ The blue eyes hardened. ‘Understood?’
Pike bleakly considered his empty glass. He felt like a kid in the headmaster’s office. This was not his main game tonight. ‘Gossip about the Czech mess and Jack’s killing would be damaging, I agree,’ he said lamely. ‘Spreading negativity would flatten our own business. You can tell Jerry the order will be obeyed.’
De Groote grinned triumphantly. ‘Splendid! Now, let’s order some food.’
A waiter took their orders. Entrees of Tasmanian oysters in their shells with locally farmed Atlantic salmon. De Groote’s main was to be roast venison. Pike was in near-salivating anticipation of a change from the salty fries of Czech cafes. He chose a baked Tasmanian rock lobster.
They dined agreeably. De Groote urged his charge to stay the night at the De Groote mansion half a kilometre away, by the beach.
After a moment’s consideration, Pike accepted. With his mounting lassitude and jet lag, the drive to Stanley, at night in the rain now splattering the window, would take six hours. Doing that would be foolhardy.
Ned was galled at the presence of the nearly half-full bottle of Richard’s Riesling, on the table, abandoned in favour of a bottle of local pinot noir. ‘Light body and fully flavoured,’ De Groote said, gazing into his glass. ‘A floral character of violets. Brilliant. Try some.’
‘No, thanks.’ Pike remembered it fondly. He’s trying to get me back on it. Why? He soberly sipped at a fourth glass of cider. It was time to pounce. ‘You know Jerry forged your signature in Prague to license you with the Government as an enterprise?’ he said.
De Groote stared at him.
Pike laughed. ‘He stupidly told me it’s not forgery if the person whose name you are forging wants you to do it.’ Knowing this, he had the power to report his master, present Richard or Bell with a criminal conviction. But doing that would prevent his coach from going to the republic, or get him jailed, away from the Pike recruits, once he was there.
De Groote finally smiled. ‘That’s our secret,’ he said.
He’s proud of it, the rogue. Pike’s exasperation sharpened. ‘Look, what I’ve flown to Hobart for is to get your firm commitment to keep your promise and go to Prague, Richard. And soon.’
De Groote nodded encouragingly, startling his weary inquisitor. Was it the wine? Pike wondered. Was Richard getting a little smashed?
Here goes. ‘So, when are you going?’ Pike challenged.
De Groote raised his hands, cuff links of gold, palms out. I’m on your side, they said. ‘Very much between us, Jerry is also worried,’ he said quietly. ‘It will be attended to. Promptly.’
Pike grabbed at a headline, a legacy from his years as a newspaper sub-editor. Casino Miracle. Rock Turns to Rubber. ‘Thank you.’ He reached both hands across the table and gripped De Groote’s, suddenly feeling foolish. ‘When?’
‘When Jerry tells me.’ De Groote inspected his manicured nails.
Pike despaired again. ‘Are we talking about next week, or next bloody month?’
‘I don’t know,’ the professor replied quietly. ‘A few months or so, I suppose.’
‘What! Bloody hell, Richard!’ Pike boomed. ‘A few months? Or so?’ An image flashed before him of Pavel and Elishka having to close down their cake shop. ‘I won’t accept that.
‘It’s fraudulent to our Czechs. Alex and I took their money on the promise that you would continue their training. It was you who got us to go there. We saved long and hard for that trip. I’m not going to see it go down the gurgler. What’s your real reason for delaying it? Afraid of the thugs?’
De Groote said nothing.
Pike considered the empty goblet by his right hand. He was pleased the hand was not sore from that airport lavatory chopping. ‘I still insist that you go there damned soon.’
De