Overdue Item

by Peter Menadue

  She'd never seen a pistol up close and had certainly never had one pointed at her. Fear slashed through her system and made her bones vibrate. She felt as if the floor was electrified. "N - n - o."

  He stepped forward and wrenched the book from her grasp. "Thank you, and have a nice day."

  Her frustration at having been so comprehensively duped made her explode with rage. She kicked out at his shin, and missed. His lips writhed like a snake and he pointed his pistol at her forehead: "Don't move, you silly bitch."

  Her eyes focused on his trigger finger, rather than the muzzle, and her heart-rate went off the scale. If he didn't shoot her soon, she'd have a cardiac arrest.

  Victor Markov barked something in a Balkan tongue.

  Robert Markov lowered his pistol and nodded. "OK, let's go."

  She struggled for breath and tried to control her heart-rate as the Markovs turned and strode across the reading room to towards the front entrance. They were half-way there when Detectives Cochrane and Dryden, and several uniformed policemen, rushed into the library pistols drawn.

  Holy shit. Julia's legs went weak and her heart-rate spiked again.

  Cochrane pointed his pistol at the Markovs and screamed. "Freeze, now."

  Instead of obeying, after a brief hesitation, Robert Markov snapped off a couple of shots, which missed, and ducked behind a caravel. Victor Markov swore loudly, pulled out a pistol and dodged behind a pillar.

  The police dove for cover and several patrons - until now spending a lazy morning in their community library - screamed and grabbed the floor. A couple more sprinted out the entrance.

  "Wow," the little boy said, without a trace of fear.

  Julia realised she was squeezing his hand very hard. She swept him up and leapt behind a large pillar, heart pounding. She knew she should stay right behind it. However, curiosity and excitement made her peek around the corner.

  The two detectives poked their heads above the borrowing counter and blaze away at the caravel behind which Robert Markov huddled. He popped up and returned fire.

  The crack of pistols and smell of cordite filled the air. Philip exclaimed: "This is just like TV."

  Actually, the gun-shots weren't as loud as on TV, but the sound of the bullets buzzing past and thudding into walls was frightening. She imagined one hitting her flesh and cringed.

  Victor Markov screamed something at his son in the same tongue as before; his son screamed something back.

  Victor Markov stepped out from behind the pillar and fired off half-a-dozen shots to keep the police busy while his son, holding the Codex Durham, dashed past him towards the fire exit at the back of the library.

  He'd almost reached it when someone leapt from behind a large bookshelf and knocked him over. They both disappeared behind some armchairs and grunted loudly as they rolled around.

  Victor Markov yelled again and sprinted towards his son. However, a uniformed police officer popped up from behind a desk and fired a couple of shots that made him scream and topple over.

  Cochrane yelled "get moving" and the police dashed forward, pistols extended.

  The uniformed officers raced over to the prostrate Victor Markov and one scooped up his pistol. Cochrane and Dryden sprinted towards Robert Markov and his attacker, still rolling around behind the armchairs.

  Cochrane pointed his pistol at someone on the floor and screamed: "Let go of your pistol now! Good." He reached down and picked up a pistol.

  Julia glanced down at Philip, who'd stuck his fingers into his ears. "You OK?"

  A big smile. "Yeah, that was loud, but good."

  Dryden pulled out some handcuffs, reached down and applied them to someone on the ground. Then he dragged a sour-looking Robert Markov to his feet.

  Cochrane looked down at the tackler. "You OK?"

  "Arm's a bit numb, but I'll be fine," the guy said in an unmistakable voice. A few seconds later, Gary climbed to his feet, slowly rubbing his shoulder. Despite the pain, he looked pleased with himself and scowled at Markov. "Always knew you were a dickhead."

  "Fuck you." Robert Markov looked over at his father. "How's my dad? He OK?"

  Everybody looked over at Victor Markov, lying on the floor, holding his blood-soaked left shoulder, with a couple of uniformed officers standing over him. His loud whimpering proved his grip on life was strong.

  Cochrane looked at a uniformed officer. "Get the ambos in here, now." He pointed at Robert Markov. "And get him out of here. Take him back to the station."

  Markov said: "I want to stay with my father."

  "Shut up."

  As one uniformed officer scurried out the entrance, the other two grabbed Robert Markov and hustled him in the same direction. Julia wanted to say something nasty as he passed by, but he made no eye contact and the opportunity disappeared.

  Cochrane looked at her. "You OK?"

  She remembered the pistol pointed at her forehead and her stomach flip-flopped. "Yeah. That was a bit scary."

  "Agree."

  Julia sat Philip in a chair, told him not to move, and approached Gary. "You OK?"

  He flexed his arm and smiled. "Yep, though my arm's a bit sore. Not my best tackle. Felt good though. I told you he was dodgy, didn't I?"

  She would obviously hear that refrain many times in the days to come.

  "Yes. But tackling him wasn't smart. In fact, it was frickin' stupid."

  "Why?"

  "You could have been killed."

  Gary looked at Cochrane for support, but the detective shrugged. "I'm with her. Frickin' stupid. You should have let us do our job."

  Gary frowned. "Just trying to help."

  Patrons tentatively emerged from their hidey-holes, looking dazed. "What the hell is going on?" a chubby guy in a cardigan said.

  Cochrane turned towards them and spoke loudly. "I am a police officer. You are all safe. But you must vacate this library immediately - no exceptions. Please wait outside and we'll talk to you as soon as possible."

  A couple of male ambulance officers carrying large red packs rushed into the library and dropped down next to the wounded man, still groaning, and started sticking tubes and needles into him.

  Cochrane stood behind the ambulance officers, observing their activity. Eventually, one glanced up. "He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll survive. It’s the quiet ones who don't make it."

  Cochrane turned to Dryden: "Tell the Pom to come in."

  Dryden strode out the entrance and returned with a distinguished-looking man in a well-cut light-blue suit. Julia was shocked to see he was Ralph Finetree, the ancient historian she first saw at an Author's Talk. Shit. What on earth was he doing here? Her head started to spin.

  Finetree strolled up to Cochrane. “What happened? I heard a lot of shots. Anyone killed?”

  “No, though Victor Markov was wounded, as you can see.”

  Finetree glanced down at the wounded man. “Will he survive?"

  "Seems so."

  A sigh. "Too bad. You have the codex?"

  Cochrane suddenly remembered what the shooting was all about and looked surprised. "No." He looked at Julia. "Do you know where it is?"

  She forced her brain into gear. "Yes. The little boy, Philip, gave it to me about five minutes ago. Then Robert Markov grabbed it. He still had it when he tried to escape, so it must be around here somewhere."

  Cochrane and Finetree hurriedly searched the floor near the fire exit. Finally, after about twenty seconds, Cochrane bent down and picked up a leather-bound book. "This it?"

  Finetree took the book, glanced at a few pages and smiled broadly. "Yes, and it's still in good condition. Fantastic. Thank you very much for your help."

  "Pleasure." Cochrane whipped a plastic evidence bag out of his pocket. "But I'm afraid you can't run off with it just yet. Pop it in here. You can take it later, after you've signed all the relevant paperwork."

  Finetree frowned and reluctantly slipped the book into the evidence bag.

  Cochrane sealed the bag and wrote
on the label. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of it."

  "You'd better. It's a national treasure, worth at least US$25 million. If we don't get it back, my country will declare war."

  "We've got the same queen, you know?"

  A laugh. "She loves us more than she loves you."

  Cochrane passed the evidence bag to Dryden. "You heard that? Don't lose it."

  Finetree looked at Dryden. "Until I get my hands on it, we're as good as married."

  "Understand."

  Julia stared hard at the Englishman. "What on earth is going on? Who are you?"

  A watermelon smile. "Let me introduce myself: my name is Eric Adams, from the British Library."

  She felt like she'd been smacked on the forehead with a hammer. Was she in the middle of a weird dream? If so, how could she wake up? "You're kidding me?"

  "No."

  "But Robert Markov - the guy they just arrested - said he was Eric Adams from the British Library."

  "If he did, he was impersonating me. My name - my real name - is Eric Adams. I'm the head of the security department at the British Library. You see, for several years, we've been trying to locate Louis Barker and the Codex Durham. A few months ago, an underworld source informed us that Barker, who was working at a Sydney public library under a false name, had contacted Victor Markov to offer him the codex for $2 million. Markov agreed on that price. Then Markov and his son, Robert, headed for Sydney to make the exchange. I followed them out here to recover it.

  "However, when they arrived, Barker told them he'd lost it. Victor Markov obviously didn't believe him. So he got Robert to pretend to be a librarian to keep an eye on him. Subsequently, Robert pretended to be me to extract information from you about the codex."

  Those revelations really twisted her head. She needed a white-board to sort them out. She turned to Cochrane. "Is he really from the British Library?"

  "Yes, Scotland Yard has confirmed his identity."

  She turned back to the real Eric Adams. “Then why did you call yourself Ralph Finetree and pretend to be an ancient historian?”

  “That was my cover while I poked around. After Barker was arrested, I asked these detectives to help me recover the codex. We decided to keep the Markovs and this library under surveillance in case it turned up."

  She frowned. "OK, I'm starting to get the picture, though it's a crazy one. It seems Robert Markov lied to us twice."

  Gary said: "He didn't fool me - I never believed him."

  "Quiet."

  The real Eric Adams looked down at Philip. "What I don't understand is how Barker lost the codex and this boy got hold of it."

  Julia quickly explained how Philip saw 'Mr Cheshire' hide the codex in the air-conditioning duct and then stole it. When 'Mr Cheshire' found it was missing, he blamed the old vagrant and strangled him. "Philip brought the codex back to the library this morning and gave it to me. Then the Markovs turned up."

  "I see. Barker obviously hid it in the duct because he feared - quite rightly - that the Markovs would double-cross him."

  Phillip pursed his lips and looked sad. "I shouldn't have taken the book - I'm sorry."

  Julia said: "We're glad you did. You kept it safe so it can be returned to its real owner."

  Philip said: "Really?"

  Eric Adams smiled. "Yes. Because of you, we've recovered this beautiful book."

  "It is beautiful, isn't it? Did one man do all the writing and drawing?"

  "Yes, a long time ago. It took him many years."

  "I bet he got a sore hand."

  Adams laughed. "I bet he did. But he wanted to make God happy, so he didn't mind." He patted Philip on the head. "Now, umm, out of curiosity, where's your mother?"

  Cochrane said: "Good question!"

  As if on cue, a woman at the entrance yelled out: "What the hell's going on? What are you doing with my son?"

  Everybody turned and saw a Chinese woman holding two heavy shopping bags.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Outside the library, the small pack of hard-core agitators became increasingly annoyed at the group of middle-class wankers chanting to save the library. What did they think this was: a garden party? The power elite only understood violence. Time to up the ante. They started their own chant. "Fuck the pigs, fuck the pigs ..."

  The wankers stopped chanting and looked askance at the hard-core protesters stirring up trouble. The three cops leaning against their police car picked up the new vibe. They straightened up and fingered their batons. The two mounted cops tightened the reins of their horses.

  The hard-core element and the cops gravitated towards each other and were only a few metres apart when a couple of police cars squealed around the corner and slammed to a halt in front of the library. A couple of guys in suits and three uniformed police officers bailed out, waving pistols and raced into the library.

  Within seconds, shooting erupted inside the library and there was an outbreak of screaming. While everyone looked on, stunned, a couple of terrified elderly patrons ran out, yelling for help.

  Many of the middle-class protesters dropped their placards and raced off along the pavement. However, the Trotskyites and Anarchists stood their ground. One yelled: "Awesome man - totally awesome."

  The police outside drew their weapons and edged towards the front entrance; an ambulance came around the corner, siren blaring.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As the ambulance officers lifted Victor Markov onto a gurney and wheeled him out to their vehicle, Detective Sergeant Cochrane explained to Felicity Yam that: a librarian at the British Library murdered a colleague and stole a priceless manuscript bible before fleeing to Sydney; her son stole the bible off the librarian and saw the librarian murder an old vagrant; and, her son gave the bible to Julia that morning.

  It wasn't easy for a woman, who had left her son at the library while she went shopping, to comprehend what she was told. Her mouth was open almost the whole time. "Wow. You're kidding?"

  "No."

  "Why was there shooting?"

  "Some rare book thieves turned up and stole the bible off Julia. We tried to arrest them and there was gunfire. Fortunately, Julia looked after your son."

  The whole time, Philip sat quietly on a tiny chair, jiggling his legs and looking slightly bored, as if there was a TV show he wanted to watch.

  When Cochrane finished, Mrs Yam glared at her son. "Philip, why didn't you tell me you stole a book? You should have told me."

  Philip stared at the patch of floor between his small bouncing feet. "I thought you'd get angry."

  She scowled. "Of course I'd get angry. You shouldn't steal things. I've told you that many times."

  Philip hung his head. "Sorry Ma."

  Julia decided he really was an adorable kid and looked at his mother. "Don't be upset. Without his help, we wouldn't have recovered the bible."

  The mother scowled at Julia. "I'm also angry with you, and this library."

  "Why?"

  "I left my son here because I thought it was safe. But he got involved in a lot of shooting. You were supposed to look after him."

  Julia's annoyance with Felicity Yam bubbled over. "Actually, we're not supposed to look after him. We're librarians, not child minders. You're not supposed to leave him here, unsupervised."

  A deep frown. "Are you blaming me for what happened?"

  "Of course not. It was nobody's fault - it just, well, happened."

  Felicity Yam burst into tears. "I didn't want to leave him here. But I'm a single mother and I can't afford after-school care. I try to be a good mum; I can't work miracles." She used the back of her hand to wipe away a couple of tears.

  Detective Sergeant Cochrane frowned. "I think we're getting off topic. The important thing is that your son is safe and has a great story to tell his grandkids. I want you to bring him to the police station in a few days' time so we can have a chat - with you present of course - and get a written statement from him."

  A nervous glance. "You
won't report me to Family Services, or anyone like that, for being a bad mother?"

  "Of course not - definitely not."

  A big smile. "Good."

  During their chat with Felicity Yam, Eric Adams - the real one - had sat in a chair, on the far side of the reading room, making calls on his mobile phone to various people in England. Julia had listened, with half an ear, to him happily announce that he had recovered the Codex Durham and that the two Markovs were under arrest and heading for gaol. His tone only darkened a little when he warned that there would be "some unavoidable publicity".

  Now, he strolled over, introduced himself to Ms Yam and explained his role in the affair. That took him a while, because she still hadn't fully digested the information Cochrane gave her. Nor, from the way her forehead writhed and buckled, did she digest a lot of what the Englishman said.

  Finally, he said: "So, you see, you should be very proud of your son. Without his help we would have lost one of the great treasures of English culture."

  Felicity Yam pursed her lips. "The book is valuable?"

  "Extremely."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Is there a reward?"

  A smile. "Not right now, but I'll let you know if that changes."

  Several crime scene technicians in white overalls entered the library, lugging heavy suit-cases.

  Detective Sergeant Cochrane noticed them and stood up to address everyone present. "Alright, I think we'd better clear out and let the techies do their jobs. I understand there are quite a few reporters and cameramen outside. I suggest you let me do the talking, at least today. So, you're all free to go. We'll let you know when we want you to provide written statements." The detective looked at Eric Adams. "Alright, I'm going to talk to the press. Do you want to come along?"

  "Of course."

  As they headed out the door, Gary, who'd been sitting quietly, said: "What about Bronwyn? Where's she? I haven't seen her."

  Julia said: "Shit, nor have I."

  Bronwyn's office door was closed.

  Julia said: "I think she's still in there."

  "You check."

  Julia wandered over to the office door and knocked. "Bronwyn, are you in there?"