‘I was cooked on the ice down here when I tried to take over the Business, but if I hadn’t been cooked, I would’ve succeeded!’ Fuck, they must’ve been getting to him – he’d never admitted that out loud. ‘That’s why they kicked me out of town, that’s why my big brother gave me a belting, that’s why he ruined my name and told me never to come back. Because he knew I could do it. I did do it. Went up to Queensland and fucking proved it.’

He drank another swig of whisky.

‘If you can win people over, charm them, that’s how you establish a sustainable operation as a drug dealer. You think I haven’t thought about joining Blackbeard? Of course I have. If I started my own operation, I’d make sure I was moving enough product, and then I’d reach out. But I’d be different from the rest of the minnows trying to get his attention – I know how to make a drug business sustainable, that’s where they all fall over. Criminals don’t know shit about good business and good people management.’

‘Yeah? And what drugs would you be selling?’

‘Ice is where it’s at, here in Tasmania – crystal meth, if you don’t know what that is, Fiona.’

‘I know what ice is,’ said Fiona. ‘I am a lawyer, Mackerel.’ She leaned back in her chair. She was literally looking down her nose at him.

‘So you’d cook ice?’ prompted Shelby.

‘Me?’ He scoffed. ‘Of course not. Blackbeard only deals in the really good quality stuff. He doesn’t touch the gear from the shitty homecooks. So I’d have to get a good cook and make good product. And those are pretty fucking hard to find.’ He looked over the ocean, the twinkling lights of the marina, thinking of all the shipments out over the horizon, just waiting for Dempsey Abalone workers to come and collect them. ‘Davey never made the drugs, he just imported them. But that’s no good. If Blackbeard’s taken over the Business, he’ll be importing it himself. So yeah, cooking would be the way to go. You just need to find a good cook . . .’ His voice trailed off.

Looking at Shelby now, he had a fresh memory of back when they’d first met. She’d first been introduced to them at a party. Mackerel would have been eighteen, Davey twenty. Mackerel had been Davey’s wingman, as usual, even though Davey was always surrounded by chicks without even trying.