by J J Cooper
He took up a stool by the front windows that allowed him a view of the road and his room. The bowl of chips arrived with a practised fake smile. He was halfway through his unconventional breakfast when the rain began. He rolled back his sleeve to check the time. Greeted again by the rose tattoo. It had scabbed over and he wondered whether it was a cruel reminder from the little girl in his dreams. He removed his watch from the other hand and placed it over the tattoo, with the face of the watch on the inside of his wrist to cover the evil rose.
The rain increased in volume and he could barely make out the main road through the haze. A set of headlights caught his attention as they pulled onto the side of the road. The passenger side door opened. A figure hurried out and slid down an embankment. Jay leaned closer to the glass and watched the car pull away without its passenger.
Instinctively, Jay reached for the Browning, remembered the barmaid and pulled his hand away. He watched the person's head bob up and down as he or she moved slowly through the gully, paralleling the road toward the hotel.
The rain eased, as if the eye of the storm had reached the hotel. The person's head came up again.
He watched Warren Primrose run the copper comb through his thinning hair.
The wind picked up and the rain began to fall again. Jay's heart pounded above the noise of the water gushing through the hotel's gutters. Primrose became a blur behind the deluge.
His immediate thoughts were of Sarah. Only the two of them knew of the hotel. Primrose must have gotten to her. God only knew what the little psychopath had done to make her talk. Jay clenched his fists and slammed the benchtop. Chips flew high above the bowl and scattered onto the floor. The bowl slid from its spot and shattered, shards of china flying everywhere.
The broken china squealed under his boots as he made his way to the back door, his jaw locked tight in determination. The barmaid said something but he ignored her. He wanted to round up Primrose and kill him. A burning desire he had never felt before. An animal instinct overcame him as he began to stalk his prey.
He kept tight to the outside balcony and made his way to the back of the building. After vaulting the rail, he removed his jacket. The rain pelting against it was too loud for the hunt. He took hold of the Browning and flipped the safety to fire. Holding it by his side, he crouched and moved forward to the edge of the building. An empty paddock the length of a football field was to his immediate right, between him and Primrose.
Water gushed from his hair and into his eyes. His focus didn't waver. He breathed in hard and ran to another building ten metres directly in front of him. The eaves provided some shelter from the storm as he edged along the back of the building. At the far end, he stuck his head around and noted Primrose's position.
Jay ran hard for a tree-line no more than thirty metres away. He prayed that Primrose wouldn't look over his right shoulder toward him, but instinct told him that Primrose would remain fixed on the hotel room.
The large pines provided ideal cover as he slid into the mud and lay facing Primrose, now more than the football-field distance away. He caught his breath. Primrose sat waiting in the gully. Jay didn't know what Primrose was waiting for and at this point didn't care.
He pushed up off the ground with his free hand, ducked into the gully and began stalking Primrose through the tree-line. Water cascaded down the sides of the gully and quickly filled the trench. He rolled his ankles to the side with each step, careful not to collect mud on his boots. They were heavy enough with the rain. He pushed through patches of knee-high grass. The pines and shrubs provided enough cover. They also shielded Primrose. Jay lost sight of him until he rounded the corner near the road.
The wind picked up as he hit the bend. The rain pelted his face and body, stinging his exposed skin. He came to the last of the pines and propped himself against a tree. Their scent reminded him of Christmas. Of happier times.
Jay wiped the rain from his eyes and looked ahead. Primrose sat in the ditch with his back toward him. There was no longer any cover between them. If Primrose turned, he would see him. Jay hoped he wouldn't turn. He put his hand on the pine tree, optimistically using it as a lucky charm. Here's hoping we both live through this, Dad, he mumbled to himself.
Rising from the cover of the pine tree he commenced the final leg of his pursuit. He held the Browning in front of himself with both hands while he continued to roll his ankles with each deliberate step. He dared not blink and concentrated on his target. The gap slowly closed as the rain continued to fall. Primrose remained seated and occasionally pulled the copper comb through his hair. The gap continued to narrow and the rain picked up, thick drops that pummelled Jay's face. He pushed forward.
A truck's airbrakes suddenly drowned out the thunderous roar of the rain. Caught off guard, Jay flung his head around as the truck passed.
In an instant, he realised his mistake and turned back toward Primrose.
THIRTY-SIX
Primrose stared at Jay in shocked recognition. As the front of the truck drew level beside the little psychopath, he reached behind his back. A grin appeared and he brought a weapon to his front. But reaction time was against Primrose.
Jay steadied and let two rounds fly from his Browning. A double tap aimed at the centre of the seeing mass. The first round struck the left side-middle of his chest. The second round hit to the right, just below his shoulder. After firing, Jay dropped to one knee and watched in surprise as Primrose continued to raise his weapon.
Primrose staggered back a step, lowered his weapon and raised it again. On his face was that same sadistic look that Jay had seen before.
Jay fired another two rounds in quick succession from his kneeling position. He didn't wait to see where they landed; instead, he dived to the ground and rolled to his right.
He couldn't see Primrose when he raised his head. Careful not to expose too much of a target, he slowly lifted himself to his knees. His heart pounded hard and the veins in his arms looked like they were trying to shed his skin. Yet his hands remained soft around the pistol. With his trigger finger extended outside the trigger guard, he took a purposeful breath and inched forward until he came to his target.
Primrose lay sprawled out. He coughed and attempted to pull himself to a seated position. Jay bent and retrieved Primrose's weapon. Another Browning pistol. Probably the same one Bowen had used. The weapon was hot. Primrose must have let off a round that Jay hadn't heard. The rain and the truck had drowned out the noise of the gunfire.
A gurgling laugh escaped Primrose's lips.
Jay stood over him. 'Where's Sarah? Where's my father?'
Primrose mouthed, 'Fuck you.'
Jay placed a boot on Primrose's chest. 'Where are they?'
Primrose shook his head.
Jay pressed his boot down.
Primrose coughed and spat out blood. He made as if he wanted to say something.
Jay released some pressure. 'Where are they?' he shouted.
A whisper and a final grin from Primrose. 'Sub Rosa.' His eyes rolled back and he went limp.
Jay dropped to his knees and shook the lifeless body. 'Don't you die on me yet, arsehole.' He continued to shake Primrose until he realised the futility. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. The rain had started to ease and visibility had improved. He had to get out of the gully.
He tucked his weapon into the back of his pants and, after making the other weapon safe, stuck it down the front. He grabbed Primrose by the arms and dragged him back to the cover of the pine trees.
After taking a mobile phone, wallet, the copper comb and a multi-tool from the body, he gathered foliage to cover it from view. Exhausted, he crouched beside the pine tree he had earlier touched for luck.
Jay noticed that the tree had splintered. He leaned in to examine the damage. A piece of bark was missing and what remained sent a shiver through him. A small hole with singed outer edges. A bullet hole. He looked toward the spot where Primrose had stood and lifted his weapon. The trajectory passed over the spot fro
m where Jay had fired. The change of positions after firing had saved him. He lowered his head against the tree and ran his hand over the bullet hole.
He turned and sat with his back against the trunk. The shooting had been in self-defence, he told himself, yet he had hunted his prey. Primrose was the only person he had ever wanted to kill. He felt justified in his reasoning, but couldn't shake the feeling of being robbed. Still no closer to finding his father. To add to his woes, he didn't know what had happened to Sarah.
Primrose's phone started vibrating in Jay's pocket. He took it out. A new message appeared. A message from Catherine.
He instinctively checked his surroundings. The rain had eased to light droplets and the wind had dropped off. Primrose's body lay under the glistening foliage. Miniature tributaries formed around the body as the rainwater searched for a home at the bottom of the gully.
He opened the message: R u finished. When do u want me to come and get u.
It sounded to Jay like Primrose had intended to kill him, although it didn't explain why he had waited in the gully. Catherine would know, he figured, and he replied to the message.
Come now. Park at rear far end of hotel accom.
He hit the send button and got a reply within the minute.
OK.
With a last check to ensure the body was sufficiently hidden from view, he turned and started circling back to his room. He stopped to pick up his jacket and made it to the room without needing to explain to anyone his muddy and dishevelled clothes.
Not knowing how long Catherine would be, he quickly showered, changed, and placed his saturated clothing in a plastic bag.
It wasn't until he'd finished packing that he realised Sarah's bag and laptop had gone. She must have taken them with her, yet he swore the items had been there when he'd woken up. He didn't dwell on it and, after a final check of the room, made his way outside to wait for Catherine.
The sun had broken through and a rainbow stretched over the paddocks to the rear of the hotel. He leaned on the side of the building, smoking a cigarette. Before he finished, he heard a car pull in. He dropped the cigarette and waited for the engine to die before stepping around the corner, the Browning in his hand and by his side.
He took a few paces toward the car and raised the pistol. Catherine gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. Jay opened the passenger door, threw his bag in the back of the BMW and stepped in.
'Hello, Catherine. Surprised to see me?'
She moved her hand to her cheek. 'Where ... where's Warren?'
'More importantly, where's Sarah?'
'What . . . who . . . where's my husband?'
He pushed the pistol into her side, causing her to jerk back in the seat. 'I'm sick of your fucking games, where's Sarah?'
She shook her head. 'Who is Sarah? I don't know who you're talking about, Jay. I'm not playing games. I don't know any Sarah. Just tell me where Warren is. He told me to come and pick him up. I'm not lying. I dropped him off here. Tell me where he is. I don't know any Sarah.'
Jay eased the pressure of the pistol at her side. 'Start the car. I'll show you where your husband is.'
'Where are we going?'
'Drive!'
Catherine turned the key in the ignition. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the steering wheel and accelerated through the driveway and onto the main road. She barely managed second gear before Jay directed her to stop off the road, just in from where the body lay covered.
'What are we doing here?' she asked.
'Turn off the car, give me the keys and get out.' He kept a neutral, authoritarian tone.
'You're not going to leave me here? Where's Warren?'
'You'll see. Get out!'
Catherine obeyed and scurried to Jay's side. He indicated for her to walk into the gully toward the pine trees. She stumbled twice in the mud and needed a push to keep moving. As they hit the tree-line, Jay grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with his free hand. She tensed and tried to scream. The noise muffled as Jay held tight. She kicked out and fought against his grip. He let her waste energy. She stopped fighting against the grip and Jay frog-marched her forward. He stopped as they came to her husband's body. Jay had concealed it well; Catherine didn't react.
Jay kicked a branch away from the body. The pale look of death stared up at them and Catherine tried to scream again. She kicked and lashed out longer than Jay had expected. He dropped his weapon to hold on as she thrashed about. She fought until she went limp and started to choke. He let go and picked up his pistol.
Catherine collapsed beside her dead husband, coughing and dry-retching. She brushed away the remaining foliage from his face and wiped away some of the mud. The sobbing seemed genuine to Jay, and surprised him. He didn't think a husband who pimped his wife deserved such loyalty. He half-expected her to thank him. He started to feel sorry for her.
Catherine buried her face in her husband's neck and continued to sob. Jay let her have her moment and sat down against the damaged pine tree. He marvelled at how someone could love a psychopath. A woman with Catherine's looks could have just about anyone she wanted.
'Where's Sarah, Catherine?'
She moved some leaves away from Primrose's hand and held it before turning toward Jay. She wiped her face with the back of her other hand. Mascara had run down her cheeks and her eyes were red. 'I don't know who the fuck you are talking about.'
Jay lifted the pistol and rested it on his knees. The barrel pointed at her. 'You now know what I'm capable of.'
'You killed my husband, you sick fuck.'
'I killed a psychopath who was about to kill me. The same lunatic who tortured me and took great pleasure in pissing all over me. He wasn't human; he was an animal and deserved to die.'
Catherine shook her head and glanced from Primrose to Jay. 'You didn't know him like I did.'
'I'm glad I didn't get the chance. Tell me why this misunderstood angel came out here with a weapon in wait for me?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know much, do you, Catherine? Little Miss Innocent who simply whored herself at her dead husband's request.'
'It wasn't like that. We did what we did because we had to.'
'You had to tattoo people, you had to screw other men, you had to torture people, and you had to kill Bowen. You had to do all of that? You had to kidnap my father too?'
'You're wrong. Warren and I had nothing to do with your father going missing, Jay. That was Bowen and whoever he was working for. You've got to believe me – I don't know where your father is.'
It was conceivable that she was telling the truth. Maybe. 'You really don't know, do you?'
'No.'
'Where's the document?'
'The interrogation report?'
Jay nodded.
Catherine turned back to the body and moved toward Primrose's legs. She reached into the foliage, brought out one of his boots and undid the laces. A clear plastic bag fell out as she removed it. She threw the bag across to Jay before replacing the boot.
He felt like a goose for not checking them. Under different circumstances he would have. He opened the bag, took out the document and unfolded it. It was the interrogation report he'd produced years earlier. He returned it to the bag and placed it in his pocket.
'This Sarah,' Catherine said. 'Is that the girl who has been with you? The one Bowen mentioned?'
'Yes.'
'Why isn't she still with you?'
'That's what we're going to find out.'
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jay instructed Catherine to drive toward Brisbane. They'd been travelling for around ten minutes before he spoke. 'It's over, Catherine. I want to know everything. This time, no rubbish. How the hell did you get involved?'
She took a deep breath. 'My father was a public servant for the Prime Minister during the day and an abusive drunk by night. He drove my mother to suicide.' She let the statement hang in the air before continuing. 'Once she was gone he turned on me. I wasn't stayin
g around like my mother had. I wasn't going to be his new punching bag. She stayed because of me and I hated myself for it. I figured she knew I was old enough to fend for myself when she . . . well, I guess you know how she died.'
'Yeah.'
'I ran away and found my freedom.'
'The hippie life?'
'Yeah, the hippie life. My best years.'
'If it was so good, why did you leave?'
'The hippie life or my abusive father?'
He shook his head. 'The hippie life.'
'I needed more. I got tired of zoning out and being bored. I wanted adventure. I wanted something different and it was time to move along. Then I met Warren. Right place at the right time, I guess. I didn't love him at first and I didn't think it would last, but deep down I knew he only wanted the best for me. He took care of me and I fell in love with him. I wasn't lying to you when I said he changed because of the Iraq thing.'
'Because I went instead of him?'
She nodded. 'He just snapped.'
'So everything you told me was true?'
'You know it wasn't all true. But he did go off the rails and forced me to sleep with the politician and to recruit Lazarau.'
'But he needed someone to sell the documents to, right?'
'Yes. He knew of my father but hadn't met him. And I hadn't talked to him since I'd run away. Still haven't. But we needed the money and Warren contacted him. I'm guessing my father saw this as an opportunity for revenge against the Prime Minister. He wanted information about the build-up to the war in Iraq. Warren got Lazarau to steal the documents and then sold them to my father.'
'Why was your father so interested in those types of documents for revenge?' Jay already knew the answer but wanted Catherine to tell the story. To test her honesty.
'He had advised the Prime Minister before the war that there was no evidence of Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq and that Australia should not support the invasion. He was very vocal in his assessment.'
'And he was forced to resign. Did Primrose know any of this?'
'Not at first. My father was paying us good money for the documents and Lazarau kept producing them, so it was a profitable arrangement for a while.'