Sold to the Devil

by Blair Denholm

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Of course I was. Don’t be ridiculous.’

  Tracey filled the kettle, ignited the gas ring. Fussed about with cups, saucers, spoons. ‘Let’s discuss this over a cuppa. About the most nutritious thing around here. Now, do you think the world will be a worse or better place without Ed in it?’

  ‘Hang on.’ Gary reached across the table for his pouch of tobacco and papers. ‘You nearly shit yourself when I told you what Ed wanted me to do. You hoped I’d told him to, and I quote, “piss off”. Now you’re proposing murder yourself?’ He flicked the lighter. ‘I can’t believe you’re serious.’

  ‘I’ve had a good think about this, babe. Our lives are in a fucked-up holding pattern. Not counting the win you had, we’re up shit creek. No prospects for you. My motivation’s at rock bottom.’

  Gary nodded. ‘I can’t argue with that.’

  ‘Now, this…this monster, a man who raped you, don’t forget, wants you to kill so you can get your own money back. That’s totally fucked up.’

  Another nod from Gary.

  ‘I say we take it off him, don’t wait for it to be returned. Ed is scum. If anyone should die, it’s that bastard, not Nugget.’

  ‘Dammit, Tracey. I know you’re right.’ Gary stood, began to pace back and forth. ‘But still, not sure I’d ever get a good night’s sleep again if we went through with it. What if we get caught? Have you thought of that?’

  A huge laugh erupted from somewhere deep inside Tracey’s skinny frame. ‘You’ve been on the run for how long? Have you been caught yet? Someone up there is looking after you, sunshine.’

  Maybe she’s right. But how would they do it? ‘Don’t suppose you have a plan, do you? I’ve got nothing.’

  ‘No, I don’t. But let’s hit the pause button. We’re gonna be stuck in the house for a while. Maybe we’ll come up with some ideas.’

  After a cup of weak tea made with a thrice recycled teabag, a depressing silence fell. Neither Gary nor Tracey could summon the energy to tidy up, or even speak to each other. They sat staring at the windows, almost catatonic.

  Outside, dark clouds hid the sun; the wind sounded like cattle lowing; snow-burdened wattle branches swayed to and fro. To break the monotony, Gary picked up his phone. Maybe a game of Candy Crush would help pass the time. Tracey glared at him, stood and yawned.

  ‘If my company’s not good enough, I’m going to watch TV.’

  ‘Hm? Sure.’ He didn’t lift his eyes from the screen. A tricky bit was coming up. He had to concentrate or he’d fuck up and lose ground.

  His phone rang. ‘Shit, nearly got that level.’ He flipped the screen to show Tracey. ‘Look. It’s Jordie. He might be able to help us.’

  ‘Jordie? Are you kidding? He’s thicker than two beer kegs.’

  ‘Yeah, but his brother isn’t. Handyman of the year. As you know.’

  The phone buzzed insistently. Tracey inclined her head. ‘Go on, answer it. Put him on loud speaker.’

  ‘Hi Jordie.’

  ‘How’d you know it was me?’

  ‘Your name displayed on my phone. Don’t callers’ names show on yours?’

  ‘Uh, yeah. Forgot about that. Hey, I’m bored shitless. Wanna go hunting?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s the coldest day in history. Doesn’t sound like a smart idea to me.’ Gary had never fired a real gun in his life. Came close once, in a filthy Kings Cross doss house. Stared at a psychopathic thug down the barrel but couldn’t pull the trigger.

  ‘C’mon. We’ll be fine. Steve’s lending me his Land Rover Discovery. Betsy can handle anything. Got meself a second-hand rifle. Lee Enfield .308. She’s a classic. Bought it off a bloke in the pub. The $200 Nugget paid us come in handy. You can use me other one. It’ll just be for a cuppla hours, before it gets dark.’

  ‘Go with him,’ Tracey whispered, her eyes sparkling. ‘See if he’s a good shot.’

  Gary made a clicking sound with his tongue. ‘OK Jordie. Anything I need to take?’

  ‘Waterproof clothes, boots and your durries. I’ve got all the supplies. And some extra goodies. I’ll be there in an hour or so.’

  ‘Oh, one more thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Bring some food over for us, will ya? We’re out of everything.’

  ‘Bread, eggs and instant noodles sound okay?’

  ‘I love you, Jordie!’ Gary’s guts grumbled at the thought of sustenance being delivered.

  ‘Oh…um…okay. See ya soon.’

  Click.

  ‘Didn’t expect to be going on a hunting trip when I got up today. I’ll be all right, won’t I?’ He offered a thin smile of false bravado.

  Tracey wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.’

  Gary wasn’t sure but thought he detected the tiniest hint of sarcasm in that statement. Is her plan to hit Ed first part of a scheme to be rid of Gary? Surely not. She could simply leave if she wanted. Go back to Sydney. Nothing to stop her. No. Something else was keeping her around. The only conclusion he could come to was that she genuinely gave a shit for him. But he was bad for her in every conceivable way, he knew it.

  Maybe he should accidentally get in the way of a bullet from Jordie’s gun.

  Best for Tracey.

  Best for him.

  Best for everyone.

  ‘I’ll be careful, don’t worry.’

  Chapter 23

  Wielangta Forest. One of the most beautiful, serene and rugged parts of Tasmania. The rough ride getting there almost cost Gary a couple of fillings. Ruts half a metre deep in places, random rocks, big and sharp, scattered here and there. Only a vehicle like Steve’s could negotiate this so-called road. Reinforced inner springs for the suspension helped.

  Gary opened the car door and immediately regretted his decision to come on the trip. A blast of icy wind felt like a second-degree burn to his face. The car door barely cleared the snow in the deserted car park. How deep would it be elsewhere? This couldn’t end well.

  ‘You sure this is a good idea?’

  Jordie beamed back at him, confidence personified. ‘Mate. Me and Steve been shootin’ here since we was kids. Know the place like the back of me hand.’

  ‘Even in this snow?’

  ‘Well, maybe a little bit harder to get about, but we won’t wander off too far. If we don’t bag anything, we can come back here, crank up the fire. I brung some bread. If we get a roo or wallaby, we can have a steak sanger.’ Jordie jerked his head in the direction of a stone barbecue, a pile of wood and kindling left there for visitors. ‘Be kinda romantic.’

  ‘Mmm. Not my idea of romance, mate.’

  Jordie rubbed his paunch and laughed. ‘You ain’t my type, neither.’

  They grabbed backpacks from the rear of the Land Rover.

  ‘There’s a whole bunch of amazing critters in this forest.’ Jordie hefted a hunting rifle over his shoulder. Handed the other to Gary, who wasn’t sure which end was which. ‘Lots of ‘em rare. Swift parrot, spotted quoll, wedge tailed eagle. We won’t be shootin’ them, but. Gotta respect nature. You’ve used a rifle before, right?’

  ‘Absolutely. Plenty of times.’ At the Ekka in Brisbane he won a giant fluffy teddy at the shooting gallery. Maddie said he was her sharp-shooting cowboy hero. ‘But it was a long time ago.’ Old lying Gary was bubbling to the surface like a reliable geyser. ‘Used to go to the rifle range at Belmont up in Queensland now and again. Had to stop, but. The noise nearly sent me deaf. ’

  ‘They’ve got ear muffs at the ranges, don’t they?’

  ‘Hey, look. Over there.’ Gary pointed over Jordie’s shoulder. ‘Something’s hopping about near that big old blue gum.’

  Jordie spun around. ‘Where?’

  ‘Damn. It’s gone.’ Gary tried to look disappointed. ‘Hey, you know what? How about I come along for the company and you can do all the shooting. Not in the mood for killing animals tod
ay. Targets are more my thing.’

  ‘That’s okay. We can have a contest. Pick targets in the trees. Knots in the wood, shit like that.’

  Bloody hell, Jordie’s got an answer for everything. And people thought he was simple.

  ‘Yeah, nah. Not feeling it today, mate.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘Don’t fucken push it!’

  ‘Orright, Dylan. Don’t bite me head off.’

  Gary took two deep breaths. ‘Sorry. I’ve been having some trouble with a bloke. It’s affecting my mood something shocking. Didn’t mean to go off at you.’ He’d ease into the story about Ed’s proposal, and his counterplan. Have to dress it up a bit though. ‘C’mon, lead the way. I’ll be right behind you.’

  Jordie turned out to have a sixth sense in the forest. They picked and ducked their way through scrappy bush to a tree-rimmed clearing. In the middle, a mob of six wallabies scratched around for something to eat under the snowpack. ‘They’re Bennetts wallabies. Poor bastards are starvin’. Look how skinny they are,’ said Jordie in hushed tones. ‘If I pop one, I’ll be doin’ it a favour.’

  The animals were emaciated. Even from a distance of 40 metres, Gary could count the animals’ ribs.

  ‘Yeah, I guess,’ Gary whispered.

  ‘Get behind that.’ Jordie waved the rifle butt at a massive fallen eucalyptus to the left.

  Jordie raised the weapon to his shoulder, closed one eye and looked down the barrel with the other. Hands steadier than a surgeon’s. It seemed an eternity. What was he waiting for?

  BANG! The crack echoed through the forest. The beast dropped on the spot. A clean shot to the head. The other wallabies fled in a blind panic. One struck a boulder, shook its head and bounded through a thicket. The rest were gone before Gary could blink.

  Jordie dropped his rifle and trudged through a knee-high drift to retrieve the wallaby. The ground squeaked under his feet. He grabbed the animal by the tail and hoisted the carcass over his shoulder.

  ‘What are we going to do with it now?’

  Jordie pulled a hunting knife from a deep side pocket of his jacket. ‘Skin him and have him for lunch, I reckon.’

  To Gary’s surprise, lean fresh wallaby meat wasn’t the worst thing he’d tasted. That dubious honour lay with a rank stir-fry consumed at a roadside stall in Bali. The meat in that dish, he suspected, was dog. However, the wallaby fillets were almost as revolting. Too gamey for his palate.

  Jordie flipped a piece of sizzling meat on the metal plate. ‘Nothing like the great outdoors, hey Dylan? Want another bit? It’s nearly ready.’

  ‘I’ll pass on that, mate. But you can give me one of those cans.’

  Jordie reached into an Eski and tossed Gary a can of Jack Daniels and cola. The sensation of the can on his lips was an electric shock. Ice chunks floated inside the tin. ‘Shit, I can’t drink it. Never thought I’d say that. Have you got some tea, coffee?’

  ‘Better ‘n that.’

  Was that sound a wild beast rumbling in the depths of the bush? No, it was Gary’s heart juddering. ‘Don’t tell me it’s that poppy tea again? Last time I had hallucinations.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. It was a bit too strong. This one’s okay. Watered down. It’ll help warm you up on the inside. Trust me.’

  Trust me, trust me, trust me. How many times have people said that and he wound up in the shit? Not this time. No way.

  ‘Sorry, Jordie. Rain check.’

  ‘Wassat mean?’ A blank stare.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ Gary took the plastic cup Jordie was holding. Reason it out, mate. The little bloke’s never intentionally led you down the garden path. Been a rock, helped out with no complaint. Jordie wouldn’t bullshit. ‘Pass it here.’ The steamy brew smelled much less offensive than last time. Almost pleasant. Gary drained half the cup in one go, and smacked his lips. ‘Not bad.’

  ‘Flavoured her up with some dried dandelion flowers.’

  ‘It’s a vast improvement on the last batch.’ Gary stomach growled. ‘Fry off a couple of pieces of bread for me, will ya? I can’t come at that stinking wallaby meat.’

  Fried bread dunked in dandelion-infused poppy tea in the middle of a frozen forest. Only six months ago, Gary was selling houses on the Gold Coast and loving the glitz, the pressure of the rat race. He took another sip, glanced over at Jordie who pushed spattering meat around the hotplate. His mate whistled a melody, tuneless but with an innocent joy, and shuffled on the spot to keep the circulation flowing. Gary’s heart ached as he watched the man do a little uncoordinated jig, gormless but happy with his lot.

  Gary turned his gaze upwards, between towering majestic blue gums laden with sparkling snow. The sky parted slightly and a ray of bright sunshine illuminated the picnic area. Life could indeed be beautiful, even in these ball-freezing conditions. All you needed was the right company, loyal friends…

  ‘Like me.’

  ‘You reading my mind, Jordie?’

  ‘No. It’s me. Down to your right.’

  It was that blasted animal. Harrison Devlin. Surely not the poppy tea working its magic again? It was supposed to be diluted.

  ‘What do you want?’ Gary turned to where Jordie had been standing at the barbecue. Gone. Must have wandered off for a leak. Gary cupped his hands and called, ‘Jooordie! Come here quick. I need you, mate!’

  ‘Shhh. You’ll cause an avalanche in the hills. Jordie’s fine, don’t worry.’

  ‘What the hell do you want with me?’

  ‘A little chat. About your future.’ Devlin leapt onto the table. He gobbled a piece of bread, licked the dregs of the tea from the plastic cup. ‘Yum. Your mate makes a tasty brew. Bread’s a bit ordinary.’

  ‘Unless you have something positive to contribute, bugger off.’

  The foul brute scratched its belly with a hind leg. ‘If you recall, last time we met I told you to stay away from Nugget. Did I not?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gary admitted sheepishly.

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘You know what happened. Nugget paid us the money as agreed. End of story.’

  ‘No. Not end of story. It’s led to something much worse. You should have listened to me.’ The vermin bastard was delighting in Gary’s misfortune. ‘Now an even more dangerous man wants you to put your own freedom at stake. Eliminating Nugget might be a gift to the world and normally I’d encourage it. That drug he’s created is set to wreak havoc on the health of millions. Just so he can make a few bucks.’ Devlin’s whiskers twitched. He gave a growl from deep in his stomach. ‘But I’m here to look after your interests. What’s the point of committing murder? To obtain a small sum of money? Hardly worth it.’

  ‘Small sum? Are you off your fucken rocker? It’s a shitload of money. Enough to see me ‘n Tracey right. It is so bloody worth it.’

  ‘Compared to 30 years in Risdon prison for murder, I think not. Some nasty types in there, I can assure you.’

  Gary mulled that over for a minute. Yep. Good point. Nobody wants to end up in jail. But Devlin wasn’t going to win the argument that easily. ‘Fair enough. But what about revenge? I’d gladly kill him because he…sodomised me…without my consent.’

  ‘Is that right? I reckon there’s at least one witness who’ll say otherwise.’ Devlin waddled up and down the table a couple of times, cocked his leg and urinated on the last piece of bread. A jet of sulphurous steam rose in the air.

  ‘Hey, I was going to eat that, you prick.’

  ‘Now, now. Don’t use bad language. Very uncultured.’

  ‘Uncultured? But you pissed—’

  The beast launched into the air. Its hind legs landed on Gary’s chest, front paws gripping the collar of his puffer jacket. Its hideous maw slowly opened, needle-sharp teeth inches from Gary’s nose. The animal’s breath singed the hairs inside Gary’s nostrils. ‘Shut up, fool. You need to treat me with respect, or I’ll rip your fucken face off. Understand?’

  Gary’s entire body shook. His eyes expanded, breath gre
w ragged. The power of this compact monster was palpable, the creature could tear him to pieces in minutes.

  ‘Yes, I could.’

  Christ, he is a mind reader.

  ‘Okay. I’m listening,’ Gary whimpered. ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Good boy. I knew you’d see sense eventually.’ Devlin jumped onto the table. ‘Now, first things first. We are going to kill Ed. And when I say we, I mean you. With Jordie’s help.’

  ‘But you said…’

  ‘I was laying down the reality of the situation. Various scenarios could unfold. If you aren’t careful. However, if you do exactly as I say, you won’t get caught and nothing bad will happen to you. Or Tracey. Speaking of whom, I know she even suggested such a course of action herself. N’est-ce pas?’

  Gary shrugged. ‘What about Jordie?’

  ‘It may be necessary to sacrifice him.’

  ‘Nah. Forget it. Not interested.’

  No way could he drop Jordie in the shit.

  ‘Why not?’ Mind reading again, the bastard. ‘Didn’t Jordie leave Tracey alone with his handsome brother? Tell you the poppy tea was harmless, watered down? Yet here we are again. You talking to a mirage marsupial in the forest. Maybe Jordie’s not all he pretends to be, either. Ponder that for a minute.’

  The more this Devlin talked, the more sense he made.

  ‘Think carefully about what you have to gain. Financial independence until you can get another job. I can help you out with that, too by the way. Ed dead and buried means revenge exacted. Like you said, that alone makes killing the man worth it.’

  Gary stood, turned his back to the creature. Perhaps it’d be easier conversing with Devlin if he didn’t have to face him.

  ‘Okay. It’s a deal. What do I have to do?’

  Chapter 24

  The air became still again after Devlin’s furry backside squeezed between a couple of bracken shrubs and disappeared into the bush. As if in a corny stage play, Devlin’s exit was matched by Jordie’s entrance from the other side of the picnic area.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been? I was starting to worry,’ said Gary.

  ‘Mate, you were right saying no to eatin’ the wallaby. Meat musta been rotten. My guts were about to explode, had to duck into the woods for a dump. Toilets are padlocked.’