Two blocks from home, the phone Frank had given him buzzed in his pocket. He pulled over on the side of the road, in front of a house with lights blazing in every window and TV noises blaring out. It sounded like a fight scene, with lots of banging and shooting.
‘Hullo!’ he said briskly to cover his nerves.
‘Well?’ Frank said.
‘She didn’t show.’
Silence. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. We stayed until after seven. Checked the car park thoroughly.’
‘So what do we deduce from that? That she’s given it up the night we plan the operation? Or that you’re not on the level with me?’
‘You know I’m on the level. Anything could have happened – she might be sick. Or her kid might be. Or she might have had a social engagement. Or...’
‘Shut the f**k up. Meet me at the Bulimba Soccer Club. Midday Sat
