Abacus

the north the city.”
    Glanc ing down, Randall could see the large sandstone walls of Long Bay Jail. He could also see the majority of the outdoor exercise areas. “Yes, it looks perfect. Could I just trouble you for a bit of privacy for a minute while I speak with my girlfriend on the phone about the unit?”
    “Sure , Mr. Simpson, sure, take your time, there is no rush at all,” the agent said, walking back inside.
    Randall looked over his shoulder, before reaching into his jacket pocket and removing a small riflescope. Aiming at the jail, he squinted as he focused through the scope. From his vantage point he could clearly see a number of inmates playing basketball on a court. He could see just about all of the outdoor recreational area. He saw groups standing around talking, others sitting and smoking, as well as games of cards being played. Randall aimed the cross hairs of the scope onto the heads of the basketball players as they ran around the court. He easily followed their every move with the cross on their foreheads and pretended to pull an imaginary trigger. He smiled as he visualised their heads being blown clean off with each shot. Putting the scope back into his pocket, he again looked down onto the prison. This shouldn’t be too hard. I should be able to get a nice clean shot from here, I reckon.
    * * *
    Later that afternoon, Randall checked in on the listening post, which had now been up and running for a few days.
    “What do you mean we’r e getting nothing on the devices? Surely there must be something? We’ve been here for almost three days now,” Randall ranted impatiently.
    “No , boss, nothing at all, not talking about the victim, not talking about us, just screwing like a couple of rabbits,” Hobbs replied calmly, pulling his headphones back on.
    Randall brushed his moust ache downwards with his fingers and looked out the window towards the Enmore Road house. “What about the newspaper we left? Did they talk about the article?”
    “Nothing,” Georgie G replied. “I don’t think they even read it, the paper is still sitting near the letter box.”
    Rand all shook his head in disbelief. “Maybe they can’t fucking read. What do we have to do? The story has been on the radio, the television and even the local newspaper. We even delivered the paper to their bloody letter box. Next we’ll have to send the town crier down the street to read the headlines while ringing a fucking bell.” After his frustrated outburst, he poured himself a glass of water from a nearby water jug and drank. Once finished, he pointed at Georgie G with his empty glass. “All right, Georgie, get another local paper and get it tossed against the bloody front door. Maybe if they trip over the fucking thing, they might decide to have a read of it.”
    “Sure , boss. I’ll look after it on my way home.”
    “Who is rost ered on the listening post tonight?” Randall snapped.
    “I’ ve just come on and I’m doing the late one again with Leanne,” Hobbs replied.
    “Well, tell Leanne t o have tonight off. I want to have a listen myself, so I’ll be on it with you.”
    * * *
    The listening post was located in a small disused room at the rear of a local Catholic Church, which was across the road and a few doors down from the house which the suspects shared. It had another small adjoining room used as a makeshift kitchen. In order to use the toilet the officers had to go outside to an old style timber outhouse, which was out of view from the street.
    The church had a line of sight of the house in which the listening devices had been covertly installed while both occupants were out at work. Randall arrived at eight P.M. to find Hobbs seated in the small room with his headset on. Sensing someone had entered the room, Hobbs turned and waved to Randall. “Much on?” he asked.
    Hobbs took off his headset and turned up the volume on the loudspeaker, which allowed the live recording to be heard throughout the room. “No, but the cat’s back.”
    “What cat?”
    “You’ll see.”
    Randall took up his seat next to Hobbs and pulled on his headset. As he did, almost on cue, a loud purrrrrrr sounded down the line. Randall screwed his face up in pain as he pulled off his headset. “Shit, is that a cat or a Bengal tiger. It must be right up against the bloody microphone.”
    Hobbs broke into a snicker . “Get used to the cat, it’s been harassing us for two days. One of the devices is behind the lounge and it