by Gary Kemble
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘No, it was. . .’
Harry placed his fingertips gently against her lips. ‘No, don’t do that. I’m sorry.’
She looked up at him, then stepped up and kissed him on the lips. He kissed her too, hands on the back of her head, entwined in her hair. Like that, they shuffled into the house. Harry shouldered the front door closed. Jess dragged him to the bedroom.
They kissed again, more deeply this time. He pulled away, took off his shirt and then her singlet. He touched her bare skin, kissed her tattoos, kissing away the pain they represented. Goosebumps rose on her skin.
She tugged at his pants. He eased her down onto the bed. All thoughts of Cardinal, Vessel and everything else were wiped away. And then he was inside her. They writhed against each other, kissed and bit each other, clawed at each other.
His tattoos burned on his skin, like petrol had ignited just under the surface. He cried out, part pain part ecstasy. Squeezed his eyes shut. Below him, Jess mirrored his cries. There was an echo. He opened his eyes. His breath caught. Jess was sheathed in a delicate azure light. Her tattoos burned a deep, electric blue.
She too opened her eyes, and from the expression on her face he could tell that she saw it as well, on him. Then she pulled him down to her, into her, and they kissed. The room spun. Everything that he saw and heard felt doubled up.
In the moment of her release he heard two women crying out, their voices overlapping.
Harry slumped down on top of Jess, whispering in her ear. He didn’t recognise the words. They weren’t his. He slid off her, to the side, the pillow cool against his face.
‘What was that?’ he said.
Jess didn’t answer. Because she knew he knew. Harry drifted, listening to her breathing, and the sound of the wind outside. The pain from the tattoos disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Just the now-familiar ache in his lower back. He thought he was going to drift off to sleep, and then he spoke.
‘I was across the river, at the launch today, staring through the scope at Cardinal,’ he said. ‘Rob was so angry when I didn’t pull the trigger.’
Jess rolled to face him. ‘This morning, I found myself standing by the front door, in a daze. I’d packed a bag. You know, hat, sunscreen, paperback to read on the train, a kitchen knife. . . Kyla wanted to stab him.’
Harry thought about the back-up plans Rob had set in place. If he hadn’t been able to get a sniper’s rifle, he would have wanted an assault rifle. If he couldn’t get an assault rifle, a pistol or a shottie would have done. If not those, then a knife, just as Kyla had been planning.
Harry ran his hand down her arm. ‘Whatever happens, I’m here for you,’ he said.
Jess snuggled into him. Harry kissed the tattoo on her arm.
***
He thought sleep would come easily, but it didn’t. He lay in bed, watching the gauzy curtains billow slightly in the breeze. His eyes roamed the room. Wedding photos of Jess and her husband sat on top of the dark wooden dresser. Suits and shirts hung in the walk-in wardrobe. On the wall beside the bedroom door hung a framed map of Brisbane, commemorating Expo ’88, with clowns and mime artists and mascots cavorting.
You had it all mapped out, ya silly prick. Except the most important part.
Goosebumps rose on Harry’s arm. He stared at the map, but saw Tim in Afghanistan, checking the map and calling in the coordinates of the massacre.
Right around Brisbane’s western suburbs, we’re moving to protect icons that have been allowed to rot for too long.
Harry saw a map of Christmas Island, surrounded by lines, with areas shaded red. Then the Expo ’88 map came into focus, his eyes settled on the clown, waving at the camera.
It’s not exactly a winning hand.
‘Oh shit,’ Harry said. ‘How could I have missed it?’
CHAPTER 46
Jess, Dave and Christine stood around Christine’s kitchen table as Harry rolled out a Quantity Surveying map of Brisbane. It was marked with little red crosses.
Harry flicked through the photos on his phone, until he found the one of Jess’s cardplayer.
‘It never made any sense, right? What sort of hand is this? What sort of game involves holding that many cards?’ Harry said.
Dave started to speak. Harry cut him off. ‘I know there are such games, but in tattoos?’
He zoomed in. ‘And see here, on the third card?’ he said.
Christine squinted. ‘It’s like a full stop.’
‘Exactly. Read the numbers out to me.’
Christine took the phone and read out the numbers. Harry looked up and down the side of the map, at the numbers written there. He picked up his red pencil and a ruler.
‘I’ll have to estimate a bit, because the scale doesn’t go down that far.’
Harry marked each side of the map at the right spot. ‘Grab that piece of string, Dave,’ he said.
He looked up at Christine and shook his head in admiration. Despite his arse-hattery on awards night, when he and Jess had rocked up on her doorstep on Sunday morning she didn’t bombard him with questions. She just said, ‘How can I help?’
Dave picked up the string, held it to the dot Harry had drawn. Harry did the same on the other side, bisecting the map about a third of the way down.
‘Rob was meant to get the other tattoo, the longitude. But they ran out of time. Kyla only managed to get hers because she escaped the bikie raid. It was the last tattoo she ever got. And it represents this line across Brisbane.’
Dave assessed. ‘That’s a lot of ground to cover.’
‘Yeah. Except, we don’t have to. We know that Cardinal developed a penchant for property investment after Rob and Kyla went missing. He’s has been buying up little pieces of property all over the city. Places of significance.’
‘But why?’ Dave said.
‘Because of the last thing Rob said. He told them that the dossier was hidden somewhere. . .’
‘Somewhere special,’ Jess said.
Harry traced the line, until it intersected with one of the red crosses he’d drawn earlier. Dave squinted, trying to make sense of the map.
‘It’s Paddington water tower,’ Harry said.
‘Fuck me,’ Dave said.
‘Rob lived just over the other side from where Cardinal’s dad lived,’ Harry said. ‘It was close, convenient.’
‘Why not a safety deposit box?’ Jess asked.
‘He was worried about it falling into the wrong hands. He knew Cardinal had some powerful friends. Assumed police might be among those friends.’
‘Shit,’ Christine said. ‘Surely they would have searched it. Cardinal’s had his grubby little hands on it for long enough.’
Harry shrugged. ‘If they searched, they didn’t find it. I’m guessing that’s why the big push to restore the tower rather than knock it down. You knock something down, who knows what’s going to come tumbling out of it.’
Dave stood up. ‘Well then, let’s go, right?’
‘He’s got the place under surveillance,’ Harry said.
‘So what? We get the evidence and we take it to the police.’
‘If we get that far,’ Jess said.
‘What? They’ve got people waiting around the corner?’
Jess shrugged. ‘Maybe. Crow is still out there, right? Heathy’s probably checked himself out of hospital. They’re not exactly in Cardinal’s good books at the moment. They’d be looking to make amends.’
Harry took the string away, folded up the map. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be a case of opening up the water tower and “Ta-dah!”’
‘And we don’t know exactly what’s in the dossier,’ Jess said. ‘We need to make sure we’ve got time to sort through it, without bikies after us.’
‘Vessel and Cardinal know that Heathy and Crow failed. They’re going to suspect I had something to do with the attack on the clubhouse.
‘Look, Saturday’s election day. They’re going to be extremel
y busy. They’ll think they’ve won. We can’t make a mistake with this. We’ve only got one shot. We just need to lie low until then.’
CHAPTER 47
Harry and Christine sat at her kitchen table, laptops open. Jess looked over Harry’s shoulder. He was working on two articles, with Jess’s help. One about Rob and Kyla’s murder. The other about what happened in Afghanistan. Harry was flicking between his articles and several news sites for updates. Election-day polling booths were closed; votes were being counted. Pundits were still predicting a Labor whitewash. Harry hadn’t voted. He added it to the mental list of bad things he’d done lately, alongside almost assassinating Andrew Cardinal and demolishing a bikie clubhouse.
After the map revelation, Jess had suggested they write up what they already knew, even though they didn’t have access to the documents that would allow them to verify the story. If nothing else, it had helped the time pass faster in the lead-up to Saturday and eased the frustration of watching Vessel and Cardinal cavorting on national television, as it became clearer that nothing was going to stop them. Christine returned to work on Tuesday. Dave decided it would be too risky going back to the hospital, so had called in sick, as had Jess. Dave and Ellie were hanging out at the granny flat at Simmo’s place.
Christine was writing some pen pictures of Vessel, Cardinal and Swenson, and some other key players. She’d already managed to dig up Keith ‘Crow’ Crowther and Heath ‘Heathy’ Travill’s real names, and write a piece on their involvement with Dreadnorts MC.
Harry checked his watch. It was getting dark. Christine looked up. ‘Heard from Dave yet?’
‘No. I left a message on his phone. Maybe he’s had enough of the insanity.’
It was weird though. In spite of everything, Dave had been there for him. It seemed odd that at the critical moment he’d bug out. Harry picked up his phone for the umpteenth time to check he hadn’t missed a message somehow. He left his computer and went into the lounge room, checking the bag of gear they’d gathered for their water tower visit: torches, a rope ladder, crowbar.
‘Harry,’ Jess called out to him. ‘Your phone.’
She handed it to him. He looked at the screen. Relief ran through him.
‘Dave! Where. . .’
‘Not quite, Harry, although he is here with me. It’s Keith. You may know me as Crow. I’ll put Davey on.’
‘Harry?’ He was terrified.
‘Dave!’
Thunder boomed. The line crackled.
‘Harry. I’m sorry. I went home for my surfboard. Stupid. . .’
There was the crack of flesh on flesh, and then a muffled yell.
‘Dave? Dave!’
‘He’s okay,’ Crow said. ‘Just a love tap.’
‘He doesn’t know anything!’
‘We know he doesn’t, Harry. Me and Heathy were after you and when we saw this cunt rock up, we figured he owed us one.
‘Heathy told me all about what happened at the hospital. You reckon Rob’s inside you? Well, Rob knows where the documents are.’
‘If I knew where they were. . .’
‘Shut it! I want the documents, Harry. Don’t fuck me around. Do whatever mumbo-jumbo seance bullshit you need to do to get Rob to spill his guts. If you can’t, your mate’s gonna be spilling his. You’ve got fifteen minutes.’
Harry’s stomach rolled. The hairs stood up on his arms. ‘Okay. Where?’
‘The old skate rink. I’m guessing you know where it is.’
The line went dead. Outside, thunder boomed again, and rain splattered down. The world closed in on Harry and he wanted to smash it all apart. I should’ve pulled the trigger. I should’ve pulled that fucking trigger. Then he felt Jess’s hand on his shoulder. He sat down on the floor, put this head in his hands and sucked in a deep breath. Let it out and sucked in another.
‘What? What is it?’ Jess said.
‘Crowther,’ Harry said. ‘He’s got Dave. Shit!’ He stood up and rubbed his face. Christine walked into the room from the kitchen, a concerned look on her face.
‘He wants me to try and summon Rob, or something.’
‘Can you even do that?’ Jess said.
Harry looked up, sweat stung his eye. ‘No. I don’t think so. It doesn’t work like that. But we know where the documents are now.’
‘So you’re just going to tell him?’ Christine said.
‘What do you want me to do, Chris? He’s got Dave. This isn’t a fucking movie!’
‘I know it’s not, Harry,’ she said. ‘But you’ve worked your arse off on this. You go down there and give them what they want and Cardinal gets away with it all. Again.’
‘I’ve got fifteen minutes.’
‘Shit!’ Christine went back to the kitchen. Harry could hear her pounding away on a keyboard. ‘I’ll be damned if these fuckers get away with this.’
‘What are you doing?’ He and Jess followed her back to the kitchen.
‘Putting all this stuff in the cloud. And emailing it to Miles, and me, and you.’
Harry shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter, Chris. Without the documents, it’s meaningless.’
‘Bullshit, Harry! That is total bullshit. Don’t you get it? You had most of the story. You got it yourself! Rob didn’t know about the Swenson connection. He didn’t know about the property deals.’
Harry pressed his hands against his eyelids. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s over.’
‘Harry, come on. Do you really think delivering yourself to them is going to save you?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Have you got a better idea?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I do.’
CHAPTER 48
The Paddington skating rink was rapidly returning to the state nature intended. Weeds pushed themselves up from the charred remains of the building where thousands of teenagers once spent their Saturday nights. A couple of young gum trees reached for the open roof. As the wind picked up, chip packets and sheets of old newspaper rustled around in the darkness, looking for escape. Harry peered up through the skeletal remains of the skate rink’s roof. The stars were gone, obscured by clouds. Every now and then lightning flickered through them, followed a couple of seconds later by a boom of thunder. Jess snaked her fingers through his.
They waited. A gentle rain fell. Harry started to think that this was a trap, or that he’d gone to the wrong place and Dave was already dead. Then a car pulled up outside, headlights panning across the open doorway. Car doors opened and shut, and a silhouette appeared in the doorway of the rink. Crow waited, hiding behind Dave, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. He moved forward towards Harry and pushed Dave down onto the ground. Dave’s hands were tied behind his back, his face mottled with bruises and dried blood.
‘Harry, I’m sorry, don’t. . .’
Crow silenced him with a kick, and pointed his gun at him.
‘Harry Hendrick! Or should I call you Rob?’ he said. As he emerged from the gloom, the light fell across his face. He was grinning. He turned to Jess. ‘Strange idea for a date, but whatever floats ya boat, I guess.’
Heathy appeared behind them, took up position halfway between Crow and Harry. He had a big black shotgun. His face was a mess of half-healed scabs.
‘Did you choose this place because of Rob? This is where you killed him, right?’ Harry said.
Crow snorted. ‘Fun times. That’s all ancient history, Harry. He was too nosy for his own good. Just like you.’
Jess stepped forward. ‘Rob and Kyla didn’t deserve what happened to them. They deserve justice.’
This time Crow laughed out loud. ‘And what good would that do? Huh? We’ve all made mistakes. You’ve made mistakes, right?’
‘Mistakes? Is that what you call what you and Cardinal did to those people in Afghanistan? To Ahmed? Rabs? You sabotaged a fucking Black Hawk, for Christ’s sake!’ He peered into the darkness behind Crow. ‘And what you did to Kyla? Rape? Murder? Just a mistake?’
‘Jeez, mate, and you call yourself a journo,’ Cro
w said. ‘I’ll cop it on the chin for most of that but not Kyla. I had nothing to do with Kyla. I was a little busy with Rob. Fingers don’t break themselves, y’know. Kyla was all the Chief’s work.’
‘Andrew Cardinal?’ Jess prompted.
‘It’s one of his specialities. He took her out to Swenson’s new block of land. And she didn’t come back.’
Heathy snorted.
Lightning flashed, gleaming off the dull metal of Heathy’s shotgun. Thunder boomed and for a moment Harry thought he’d pulled the trigger.
‘Where are the documents, Rob?’
Dave looked up. ‘Harry, don’t. . .’
‘Shut it, sunshine,’ Crow said. He knelt down behind him, picked up Dave’s head and slammed it against the floorboards. With his other hand he pressed the gun into Dave’s side, then looked up at Harry. ‘You know what a nine-millimetre round will do to his guts from this range? It’ll fuck him up but won’t kill him. Next time there’s thunder, I’m pullin’ the trigger.’
Harry could feel Rob back there, but if Rob had any answers, he wasn’t sharing. Crow and Dave were a good five metres away, too far to try and rush them. Heathy now had his shotgun up, aiming at him and Jess. He glanced into the darkness. He’d just have to trust Christine.
‘Okay! Okay!’ he said. ‘It’s in the water tower! The documents are in the water tower.’
Crow’s brow furrowed, he turned his head to one side. Harry’s hands shook violently, rain fell into his eyes. Lightning flashed and thunder followed a second or so later. Dave cried out. Crow took the gun away from Dave’s side.
‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘Because we searched the water tower, came away with zilcho.’
‘I swear,’ Harry said. ‘That’s where they are.’ Doubts flew through Harry’s mind. What if his map theory was wrong? What if he’d read the map wrong? What if someone else had found the documents and they weren’t there anymore?
‘If you’re lying to me, you know how this ends, right?’
‘Get on the floor, both of you,’ Heathy said. ‘Hands behind your backs.’