By Garry Disher
Wyatt snatches the money simply sufficient. He bypasses the alarm process, eludes the law enforcement officials, makes it accurately again to his bolthole in Hobart. it is the diamond-studded Tiffany brooch - and maybe the lady - that brings him undone. Now a few very challenging humans are looking to positioned Wyatt and that brooch out of move. yet this can be Wyatt's video game and Wyatt units the foundations - whether it capability a reckoning someplace faraway from domestic. Port Vila Blues is Wyatt's 5th heist. it really is quicker than ever, racing towrads the inevitable war of words on a clifftop above the deceptively calm waters of Port Vila Bay. In a murky global the place the police officers are robbers, old-style crim Wyatt definitely shines. transparent taut writing - no longer a note wasted. Marele Day ...tough, violent, relentless and punctiliously convincing Stuart Coupe
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Extra resources for Port Vila Blues: A Wyatt Novel (Allen & Unwin Original Fiction.)
They worked quickly. Riggs repacked his bag while Niekirk stepped into the vault and began to empty it. Their first job, back in February, had involved hitting the safety-deposit boxes of a bank in suburban Brighton, seizing bonds, cash, jewellery; this time the orders were cleartake the money only. The money was in small plastic containers similar to margarine tubs, stacked neatly along a shelf. As Niekirk piled them outside the vault, Riggs carried them away to the rear door of the bank, next to his tools.
A word dropped here and there by real estate agents, chauffeurs, taxi drivers, bank clerks, casino croupiers, clubland boasters. Wyatt watched for another five minutes. It was the variable in any situation that kept him on his toes. Without the habit of permanent vigilance he knew that hed lose the edge, and that might mean a final bullet or blade or at the least steel bands manacling his wrists. There was always the unexpected change in layout or routine, the traffic jam, the flat battery, the empty safe.
De Lisle would find him in five seconds. Mansell went tense suddenly. He was in the drivers seat, a headset clamped to his ears, a police-band radio in his lap. He fine-tuned the radio, listening intently. Im getting something. Neither Riggs nor Niekirk spoke. If they had something to worry about, Mansell would soon tell them. Even so, they relaxed visibly when Mansell grinned. Kid ran his car into a tree near Yarra Junction. Niekirk nodded. That was good: a car smash would tie up the local boys in blue for a while.