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four. the inside man

Continued from here:

https://tomsbytwo.com/2017/05/04/francis-pulls-his-first-string/

Brown was drinking in the bar, when he saw Nick’s reflection in the mirror he put his glass down, swivelled around on his stool and stuck out his hand.

‘Nick.’

‘Les.’

Brown was as squat as a toad and looked as powerful as a bulldog.

‘Here?’

‘No, let’s take a walk.’

They walked to the Parklands, found a shaded bench and sat.

‘Eyes left.’ said Brown.

Two young women were approaching from the north, both in conversation, both wearing summer dresses in the gentle breeze. Nick caught a waft of perfume as they passed.

‘How’s the new job?’

‘Same shit, different office.’

‘This first bloke, what is it about him you want to know?’

‘His shoes.’

‘Meaning what?’

Nick gestured at Brown’s feet.

‘Where did you buy yours?’

‘Slatters.’

‘Branded, are they, like mine?’

Brown nodded.

‘His weren’t, and they look better than yours.’

Another couple of women passed by, one looked at Nick from under her hat.

‘The boss is betting he’s an internee.’

‘They make shoes in those camps?’

Nick turned to the policeman.

‘There might be a suitcase somewhere, we want you to put your hand up when Leane asks for a finder.’

‘Then?

Nick laughed.

‘One thing at a time, Les, don’t want to spoil the plot.’

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