by Ryder, H
While we eat, I send a text, not correct table manners I know, apologies to all those Mum's who are horrified, but needs must, anyone this behaviour offends, you know who you are, turn away now:
TC: “Hiya, howzit?” I’m down with the kids, and need to connect with my own people.
HC: “Hey Sis, fine here, did you speak to Mum yet?” Bloody hell, what now?
TC: “No, do I need to call her?” Please say no.
HC: “No Sis, she’s fine her new book is selling well, she’s celebrating” oh god.
TC: “Is there someone to drive her home afterward?” She does like a dry white wine.
HC: “I arranged a car for her, don’t worry” thank goodness.
TC: “Speak soon, love to Mum” that'll do for now.
I swipe my finger across the screen and end the message stream. I miss my Brother, he’s always away.
We sit around the living room enjoying our feast, chatting about our next move. I offer a plan, in which perhaps we should stay here a few days and figure out what happened to the occupant of this home in the middle of the desolate beyond. Before squatters rudely intruded on the serenity of this once home, daring to open a bottle of good Rioja too.
"What do we do with them?" Asks the professor pointing his fork at the three ripening captors tied on the floor behind us, "we can't just leave them here.” He's right about that, and he wrinkles his nose in displeasure, “besides they are starting to smell." He winces as if to add a impatience to his remark. “Badly.” It's putting us off our food for heaven’s sake!
"I’ll call local law enforcement, leave them with the local police." Says Liza, she’s good on the phone, and is brilliant at languages, she speaks fluent Spanish, French and Hindi, amongst other tongues, picking them up easily.
"Ha!!!" Devyn spits, suddenly animated, "I am the local law enforcement.” Of course this news doesn’t please us at all, “you won't get anywhere without me.” He coughs, his whole body vibrates with the exertion, “you'll just be inviting the friends to join, party." He says with a venom and a forced snarl, his teeth really need dental expertise, not sure why that’s important, I have never seen a man so angry, but he has been sitting on a hard floor for nearly fifteen hours. I’d be grumpy too. And he hasn't met my Mother.
That reminds me.
TC: “Hi Mum, hear your Lawrence book is getting the acclaim it deserves?” Throw a bone.
EC: “Hello dear, late night spk latr” still pissed?
TC: “You OK Mum?” Or is it wine flu?
EC: “Chardonnay” thought so.
TC: “Love you” perhaps I’ll take her back a bottle of duty free?
"How much did they give you to betray your friend?” Stan asks calmly once again on his stool, “kill him and take control of this mine?” A calm adversary can often force a frenzied one to make a mistake, it’s just human nature. “Obviously you still believe there's lots of gold down there to mine." Stan asks in a very steady but firm voice. Like a military man taking no crap from anyone, a steady gaze, shallow breathing. Devyn spits again on the terracotta at his feet, how rude, smearing it with his boot as if deciding to say something or keep quiet. Did I see a mop somewhere? I hate spitting, it’s disgusting. But guilty people always want to tell a story, spin the evidence in a way that they believe suits the ear of the listener, give them the chance, they’ll talk. All you have to do is give them the opportunity, and keep quiet and listen.
He has clearly decided to speak, "there is still gold down there, I’ve seen it, so has Mr Graham.” It makes a desperate man greedy that sort of sight, something so easily acquired. “We went down together to see how much." He shakes his head at his story and his eyes first defiant and then expressionless. His lips tighten over his yellow teeth and he bares them in a weak snarl. "Mr Pearce said we should leave the gold in the mountain." He watches his feet fidgeting their bonds in vain.
“Why?” Asks Stan, still cool and quiet.
“He want to leave it for the village, it is poor.” He seems sincere if that’s at all possible.
He looks lovingly over at his daughter, "I say we could take a big chunk, share some with nearby villages,” he lowers his voice and speaks quietly, “but he say no."
"This is his land after all, eh?" Kurt adds, “Mr Pearce's land, his mine, his house.” Counting these things off on his fingers one by one, consciously letting him know with his father likely dead, the land is now his as the eldest son. Devyn nods, and Kurt runs his hand through his tangle of wayward curly hair, closing his eyes in confusion. I feel it from where I stand, and Liza reaches out to him and they hold each other, Daniel looks over to me, confused, glazed, expressionless, lost and empty. I don’t move, and neither does he.
"So what happened?" From Liza, she lets Kurt go and invites the story to continue.
“He, he was underground but not here.” He looks over at his children, at least they know where they’re Dad is, “the villagers patched Mr Graham, when he first came out of the mountain.” Enjoying having our attention, “he was in a bad way, the water down there is bad, poison, iron I think.” Pieces of the puzzle begin to form, the edge pieces at the very least. “He had no water…for days,” He continues recalling what happened. I give him a sip of water from the bottle, his mouth is dry his lips sore, “he said that he owed them great deal.” He looks at Stan in earnest, “they brought him back to life and he…, to repay them.” Stan decides there’s more to the tale and not so gently kicks him in the ankle to continue, “I have debts." His expression is an appeal, “debts.”
"So my Dad did come out of the mountain alive!" Whispers Daniel "all these years we thought he was dead, and he was here all along." And we know where now, don't we? Keeping up?
"This place and the mine belong to you now Daniel, Kurt," says Stan, "what will you do with it?"
“That’s obvious isn’t it?” Decides Kurt.
"Give it to the people who saved Dads life, the village." Daniel says emphatically, and Kurt nods as if what else would they do? I am filled with a sense of loving and pride for this man, a deep emotion is growing inside as I realise my fondness for him is growing, but the Landrover goes with me. Even with everything that's going on I can still find time to fall for him. My head begins mumbling to itself, chattering and arguing, I pour myself another cup of tea and offer water to our new friends.
PFA collected canter.
When I get to Steffi, "why Steffi?" I ask in a hushed tone, crouching down, low on my haunches, "Daniel was your friend?" I appeal with my eyes, woman to woman, does she still love him I wonder?
A, down the centre line.
"Don't you see?" She answers sarcastically, " money, there's tonnes of gold down there, enough to set us up for life." I shake my head in frustration and disappointment, she wanted him for his wealth all along. And when people will do anything for the objects of their desire, in this case money, they really can’t understand those of us who aren’t bent to its will.
My phone vibrates, pleased for a mental distraction. Because I can't figure out how to ride three half-passes 5 metres along the centre line with a flying change. It's why I prefer to jump.
PF: “Hey girl, hope you having plenty…to do” nice.
TC: “I have my moments” true story, and I look over at Daniel, nice.
PF: “Proud of you babes, got to go Jim has sun cream he’s offered to apply it for me, well there are difficult to reach areas” wonder what part of the tropical landscape she’s in with her new lover.
TC: “Safety first” good girl, she’s thinking about factor 35.
Kurt stands tall, a light bulb moment crosses his expression, "how about we drive them a long way out into the desert,” he brushes an invisible piece of fluff from his combat trousers for effect, “and leave them out there to fend for themselves?" That idea suits my own idea of justice, and Nigel clears his throat and cleans his glasses again on a Landrover tea towel, clearly he is uncomfortable with the idea, but says nothing. Old dead and
forgotten things are his expertise, not stinky living ones.
The young man and Steffi’s eyes fly open in fear and surprise, it’s the most animated they have been for hours, the older man slumps and bows his head. We hear the squeal of chair legs as they are pushed across the tiled floor Kurt stands up quickly, "I’ll take them, you coming?" Says Kurt looking at Liza, she’s already standing. "At least an hour’s drive into the nothingness, well leave you with a few bottles of water which is more than you'd have done for us eh?" True story
“No, I’ll go Kurt.” Stan has decided, “You stay with Danny.” He stands, ever the protector, “agreed?”
Stan is suddenly angry, "what happened to my friend?" Stan has his face close to Devyn's. "Answer me truthfully” a sideways tilt of the head, “and I might be inclined to be generous with provisions."
There is a long pause where all we can hear is Stan’s angry breathing. They stare at each other, neither of them moving or making a sound. Stan out stares him, must be the military training. "He died in the mine," the man whispers, "he's gone." He shuts his eyes. A defiant smile spreads across Steffi’s face and it’s the final straw for me at that moment, my anger rises to the surface quickly and leaping up swiftly I slap her across the cheek so hard I leave a red welt on her face. Opening the already healing split in her lip and leaving her satisfactorily sprawling on the floor. Satisfied, and not at all guilty, Daniel looks at me hard, I am sorry for him.
I calmly remove myself from the room, the smell is getting to me anyway, I gather together a small pack of provisions for our guests. Water and a few cheese sandwiches using frozen bread, it'll soon thaw in this heat I muse, and they don’t deserve the good bread, ha, that’ll show them. Strange type of justice eh?
Stan has arranged for them to be picked up by the police of course, he explained that well-adjusted people don't leave prisoners far out in the desert, however they may want to, and however badly they may smell. I had to agree, so did we all...eventually. We don't tell them that though, and scared for their lives we prepare our little masquerade.
When I get back out to the leaving party Stan and Kurt are searching the three of them and confiscating several concealed weapons, luckily we'd tied them sufficiently tightly that any hidden gun or knife couldn't be reached. Because we soon have a small pile of hunting and pocket knives, an assortment of firearms of varying sizes and no additional ammo.
Flying change at G, track to the left.
Each had a mobile phone and Devyn has a satellite phone too, still with signal and charged. Good, that might be handy. I quickly glance at the screen, he was on the phone to his Mum! Bless! I hand the pack to Liza and with the prisoners bundled into the back in the Landrover still tied up they spin off in a cloud of dust, toward a GPS location Stan has programmed in. It's not quite dark but it’s still quite warm, and we watch the silhouette of the vehicle speed away into the stewing sun.
It’d be quite a scene if it weren’t for the text, but I still imagine a ‘the end’ scrawling its way in sky-writing over the bleeding colours of the setting sun.
There’s hoping.
Chapter thirty-five, Tuesday:5thnovember2013 mine
There’s something that my brain just won’t let go, a loose thread of an idea that needs neatening. Where's the scissors? "There must be an entrance to the mine Daniel," my brain won't stop tormenting me with this idea, “it’s got to be close by, your Dad would want it safe." Daniel has missed the point entirely in his anxiety about his Dad. “This house was built over the mine, remember?”
"I still can't believe after all these years I get closer to finding out what happened to Dad, only to discover I missed him alive by only a few years."
I take his hand in mine, "they didn't actually say how long ago, that years’ time-scale was just the impression they wanted you to have.” looking him intently, “I think this might have been a recent event Daniel, weeks or,” I squeeze his hand, “days even.”
“Walk me through it Tharie.” He squeezes my fingers together so hard it hurts. I wince and he lets me go.
“Look at the evidence.” I sit down next to him, our heads close together, “if this wasn’t your Dads house recently how else do you explain how it's still tidy and there's food in the cupboard?" I implore him to join my thoughts with my eyes, I can't explain why I can journey through clues and translate these signals, I just know I’m right.
"OK," says Daniel, "let’s assume you’re right, and these guys killed my Dad for the gold under this house." Daniels voice grows softer and mellow, "where is his body?" At last, the right question. He throws his hands in the air, and tames his hair in exasperation, it’s all a little unbelievable.
I'll leave him thinking on that one.
Glad for the brief reprieve, my phone distracts me with a demand on my utmost attention, and as usual, who am I to deny the tiny slick little slave driver. So acquiescing to its thrumming requests, I swipe the screen, and thankfully the noise of the vibration ceases.
PF: “Can't believe it Tharie, found the most gorgeous guy and he brings me to the back end of beyond” oh dear, this does not bode well. Know your audience, I should have warned him.
TC: “Worse than Southend?” Although we did have a brilliant time as I recall.
PF: “I’ve repressed that trip!” Funny girl. She ended up spending the weekend with a barmaid if I remember correctly.
TC: “So do I mount a rescue operation?” Please say no.
PF: “Kidding? I'm having sex in the back of a Jeep!” God no, that doesn't sound safe!
TC: “You'd have more room in a Landrover!” I think that's funny.
PF: “Knew you'd say that T, love you, see you back home...oh Jim...rub sun-cream on me...” so bad.
I put my phone away giggling to myself, and realise a serious conversation is still going on in here, I miss my horses. Besides too much seriousness can affect your appetite. "Maybe it's still down there?" Kurt offers from the sofa, beginning to spot a plan evolving. "Let's find the entrance of the mine.” Really? “Stan will be gone for at least two hours, by the time he's back let's have discovered the way down into Devils Pit.”
Oh, bloody hell, quite literally.
Suddenly energised and happy we now have a plan. He makes it sound romantic and swashbucklingly fun, does this man take anything seriously I wonder? Just what Liza needs. She of course would be suitably impressed and swish her hair at him, if she were here, it's only natural.
We agree like kids going out to play, and our grown-up has popped out, and remembering the jeans I’m wearing, I suddenly recall something. “There’s something in the kitchen.” I mumble to myself, and my noisy brain is making connections where none were previously. I strip them off quickly, turn them back inside out, straighten the pocket bags and bring them together excitedly.
Satisfied I have in fact seen something I call the professor, "Nigel, will you come here, I want you to see something please." I lay the joined bags flat on the kitchen table, "here, what do you see?" I am hoping he sees something and ask in earnest hoping it’s not a trick of my own making.
"Yes, you're right, that's a symbol for the Demon Pit.” He looks at us excitedly, “the legend says this mine is called,” he starts scrolling through the photos on his camera, “here, that’s the symbol form the book.” He shoves the screen under our noses in his appetite for solving puzzles.
Bet he watches crime drama too.
"Yes, and this?" I point, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice but still sound impatient, my hand is shaking with the denim gripped hard on my fist, my knuckles white in eagerness.
"It's a house, with a bird sitting on the roof." Says Nigel, with a sideways glance, if his brain had audio I’d hear loud ticking and whirring.
"An eagle Nigel, it's an eagle." I can't contain my excitement, "don't you see?" They all look at me like I’m mad except Daniel, he knows what I’m capable of. Frustrated that I’m alone in seeing this I raise my voice, "the entrance is here, at this
house!" Blimey they are so slow, what it must be like to be normal, how wonderful and quiet but so very slow.
"Yes!" Looking over his glasses, the professor shakes his head, "she's right," I take a deep breath and then take a seat, all this thinking has left me feeling light headed. I leave to put the kettle back on of course.
“The mine entrance is here?” I hear Kurt asking as I retreat, he and Liza will be very good together, I’ll wear black to the wedding of course.
NG: “Tharie, hope all OK, please ask Daniel to restart his phone, he’s not answering his messages” blimey, he’ll hate that.
TC: “Consider it done” he’s good that boy.
I wander back into the kitchen, I can hear Daniels phone beeping as several messages arrive at his handset after the restart, followed by several guttural expletives, and a “bloody phone.”
The electricity is on for now, although it does wain and flicker, I put the jeans back on an notice the thing my brain has been trying to tell me all along, but I was preoccupied to listen, the embossed pattern on the larder doorknob is the same imagery from the tack of the jeans. I fold my fingers around the large intricately caste dome brass doorknob. I need a manicure. I pause like they do in all the best thrillers, where the actress has perfect nails and the violins screech away to create a dramatic pause, and turn it clockwise, “here!" I yell, everyone comes pouring into the kitchen, Daniel still looking at the face of his smart phone, and they spot what I’m twisting in my palm. This part is where the music is building into a crescendo.
I open the already oiled door, it howls in protest still and we peer in, its dark, and I close it back up, looking at the faces behind me for further instructions. None come, the knob is still in my hand, I have not let it go, I don't really want to. "All the best stories have a cellar in them somewhere!" Says Nigel, we are all shaking our heads, "what? You don't like thrillers?" We laugh, probably with nerves. “So?” He asks, “We go in?” He returns his clean glasses back to his nose.