CHAPTER FIVE
––––––––
* * * *
I was in the public bar of The Waterloo by 5.45 p.m. I needed something stronger than a beer, so I ordered a bourbon and took it over to a high table with two bar stools. The Waterloo had been a working-class pub renovated to attract the yuppies, and there was a mix of clientele from tradies to hipsters and businessmen. An ideal place in which to conduct shady business; no one would stand out.
I scanned the faces around me, trying to find a match with the voice on the phone. I had $5000 in hundred dollar notes stashed in a money belt under my shirt. I was wary of Jimmy's setup being a scam—expecting me to arrive with cash, and he and his associates (because he might not turn up alone) could somehow force me into a quiet corner, rob me and take off. At lea
