Hindsight

by AA Bell

  Shivering at the thought of Ben deliberately keeping her socially crippled like that, she fumbled to find the controls on Lockman’s CD player, hoping to distract herself with his lively music. Instead, she switched on something that filled the cab with the voices of Patterson and Pobody.

  ‘How does she find her mouth with her fork?’ Pobody asked, and strangely his voice seemed to be outside the car at the same time. ‘It’s a wonder she doesn’t have poke marks all over her face.’

  ‘How do you get a blind woman to burn her ear?’ Patterson replied, speaking inside and out at the same time too. ‘Call her when she’s ironing.’

  Pobody laughed. ‘How do you drive her crazy? Ask her to read stucco. Or bird seed. Or rice.’

  ‘Or maybe glue doorknobs to her walls.’

  ‘Okay. So why does she masturbate with one hand? … She needs the other to moan with.’

  ‘That’s deaf, moron. Blind people don’t speak with their hands … This is bullshit, Jo, I had my own team until this. I was headed overseas for some real action.’

  ‘This ain’t so bad. Working close to home I get to see my kids on the weekend — and I’d rather secure a convenience store than be driving Miss Crazy.’

  ‘You should try keeping your dick in your pants. Or hanging it out more often. Either way it’s more time with your offspring.’

  ‘Nah, I’m shooting blanks nowadays. Eileen talked me into the big snip right before she sprang the divorce papers. Evil bitch. So take heed, mate. You married her sister.’

  ‘Hey, my gun’s clean, mate. I don’t stick it anywhere it’s not meant to be.’

  The driver’s door burst open, and Lockman switched off the audio link before he climbed back in. ‘You don’t need to hear that,’ he said, dumping a bundle of silky soft material into her lap, ‘and even if you do, it’s best not to switch on the loudspeaker.’

  ‘Loudspeaker? What loudspeaker?’

  ‘It’s under the tray.’ He gunned the engine and skidded back onto the road. ‘It’s my secret weapon for beach parties; my truck also doubles as a stage.’

  Mira sighed, able to picture it well enough, even though she knew she’d never fit into that kind of scene. No doubt, he’d have all kinds of beach girls clamouring after him. ‘I’m sorry I ruined your break, Lieutenant.’

  ‘Nah. Postponed is all. Now I get to look forward to it twice.’

  ‘It really doesn’t bother you?’ She couldn’t hear any trace of a lie in his voice. ‘Driving Miss Crazy?’

  He laughed. ‘Ignore those fools. My grandmother was blind. Macular degeneration. She had Alzheimer’s too by the end. Was rarely without her charm though.’

  ‘Charm? Yeah, right. Very charming broadcasting that smut back there outside a restaurant. No wonder I’m failing at independence. I’m socially incompetent.’

  ‘Competent comedienne, though. That was hilarious. I should bring you back tomorrow so you can see the looks on that crowd in the beer garden.’

  ‘Oh, too embarrassing!’

  ‘Only for Pobody. Idiot should know to keep his mouth shut around an open channel, but you know the problem with sergeants? They think they’re invincible. Catch too many bullets in their teeth, and occasionally one gets through a cavity. Not that it makes much difference. Hard to tell when a sergeant has brain damage.’

  Mira smiled. She tried not to, but it didn’t last long anyway. Ahead, she caught a glimpse of their destination.

  ‘Block secure,’ Patterson reported as soon as Lockman pulled up across the street from Greppia’s store. ‘Detectives Moser and Symes en route. ETA twelve minutes.’

  ‘They’re bringing the search warrant?’

  ‘Air mail. ETA four minutes.’

  ‘We need police?’ Mira asked. In the distance, she could hear the buzz of a helicopter.

  ‘Only if we want charges to stick,’ Lockman explained. ‘The beach was public property, but here you’ll need authority to gain access.’

  Mira glanced to the front door of the shop and saw it was closed, despite the lights on inside. Same time last night, at least. Yet she couldn’t hear any sounds of customers to suggest that tonight was any different. Leaning closer to Lockman, she whispered, ‘Why is it closed when that sign says it’s a 24-7?’

  ‘Vending machines. Rural stores can get away with closing after hours by having vending machines out front for milk, bread and other staples.’

  In seconds, Mira was out and bounding over to investigate, drawn by the thought of food and an ache to fill her stomach.

  ‘Hey, stop!’ Lockman grabbed her arm. ‘Security camera.’ He tugged her back a step. ‘Give me a second. I’ll disable it.’

  ‘On it,’ Uno said, jogging past her. ‘I know this system.’

  ‘Just temporary,’ Lockman ordered. ‘You break it, you bought it.’

  ‘How’s Josie?’ Mira called.

  ‘Ah, she’s, ah … doing fine,’ Uno replied, but it was so obviously a lie that Mira could have picked it as a four-year-old. ‘Vet needs her to stay a few days.’

  Code for died, Mira guessed. No doubt they wanted to keep her happy long enough to get the job done for General Garland. ‘Can I visit?’ she asked as a test.

  ‘First thing in the morning,’ Lockman promised. ‘For now, I take it you’ve got your appetite back?’

  ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘Okay, go,’ Uno called. ‘I just fixed the cams by the pick-n-pays, so you’re invisible.’

  In seconds, Mira was led to the front door, beside which was a bank of four large pick-n-pay vending machines. First thing to catch her eye was a carton of iced coffee, but she decided that was a bad idea. She asked for fruit juice instead. ‘Any kind.’

  ‘Milk is kinder on an empty stomach,’ Lockman suggested. ‘Or better yet, chocolate.’

  ‘Chocolate?’ Her mouth watered and she scrambled across the four machines in search of it. ‘Oh, chocolate!’ She hugged the glass, wishing both hands could simply reach through it. ‘Who’s got change? I’ll IOU a hundred times over!’

  ‘No need.’ Lockman jiggled coins out from his pocket. ‘No more than two, though. Most chocolate has caffeine.’

  Soon her mouth was full of it, washed down with a carton of chocolate milk, just as the helicopter landed. Mira expected to hear Garland’s voice, but instead she heard enough during the handover of the warrant to figure out that the chopper was piloted by a cop.

  ‘Delayed,’ he reported of the two detectives who she’d expected to arrive with the warrant. ‘They were on a stakeout and had to wait for replacements. ETA now only ten minutes.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lockman replied, but Mira didn’t understand why she had to wait, if Lockman had the search warrant now. Through the shop door, she had a clear view of the last two banks of cash registers and the memorial sign for Gregan’s brother, Theo.

  As the pilot buzzed away, Mira adjusted her sunshades until the memorial disappeared. Customers came and went in a blur between dawns and dusks, yet within minutes of fine-tuning, the appearance at night of two men in dark clothes and ski masks caught her eye.

  ‘I see the robbers,’ she whispered to Lockman. ‘Two of them. Can you please make the others give us space so we can discuss it?’

  In reply, he issued orders for Uno, Cinq, Patterson and Pobody to about-face and stride out to secure the perimeter, which wasn’t too far since the store and car park were the only things on the block. No traffic, and no discernible threats from the tractor sales or irrigation warehouse across the street, so Mira kept her voice down to prevent them from overhearing her.

  ‘They were inside the night Theo Greppia died,’ she whispered, reporting also their descriptions. ‘Both medium height with dark hair, balaclavas and wearing dark jerseys with matching football team logos. I didn’t see them come in from the front. Must have been a back door job.’

  ‘We can check that soon, but …’ Lockman flipped through a few pages of the police report. ‘Says here, the front door loc
k was busted.’

  ‘Well, I’m looking at them in there now and this door is fine … Hey, when did you get a chance to get so familiar with those reports anyway?’

  ‘Garland left them with me overnight. I read some this morning while I was feeding the joey and the rest while you were out with that konk on your noggin. How is it, by the way? You nearly ready for a painkiller?’

  ‘Pain is an old friend. Reminds me I’m alive and kicking.’

  He chuckled. ‘I can think of more fun ways to achieve the same thing. You said they appeared inside? Can you see any vehicles?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She walked around the building until she had a better view of the street and parking lot. ‘There’s one truck at the loading bay. Looks like a freezer van. It’s running.’ She couldn’t hear it but she could see the continuous thin cloud of exhaust. ‘But the loading bay is closed.’ She walked deeper into the car park until she could read the number plate off the truck for him.

  Adjusting time backwards a little more, she found Shelley turning in from the side alley, driving Chloe’s Jaguar XKR — the wrong way through the exit. Braking abruptly behind the building, Shelley twiddled her thumbs at the wheel while her two balaclava-clad passengers scrambled out and raided the trunk of the XKR for a bundle of harnesses and ropes that Mira had glimpsed earlier while trailing Chloe with Ben. Mira wondered if that meant the gear had been in her trunk all the years in between the robbery and Chloe’s death, even though it didn’t seem likely.

  Taking care to organise and lay out their lines and ropes in preparation for a leap over the short fence and down the cliff, the two slim men worked with no signs of any communication, not even a glance or nod to Shelley before she left the way she’d come in.

  ‘Is there a security camera on the exit into the side alley?’ Mira asked.

  ‘No, but there are two out the front and one dysfunctional on the loading bay. Perhaps they expect all thieves to come in the right way?’

  ‘What do the cameras look like?’ Craning her neck, Mira couldn’t see anything obvious.

  ‘They’re part of the floodlights.’ He turned her around by the shoulders until she faced the longest side of the building, then lifted her chin gently until she was staring up at the eaves. ‘If you can see that one aimed at the loading bay, that little grey cylinder at the base is the camera housing.’

  ‘Oh, I see! The truck was parked conveniently to hide their arrival in Chole’s XKR.’

  ‘They had inside help? I guess that would explain all the other discrepancies, except maybe the busted door lock out front.’

  ‘We’ll soon see.’

  Leaving their harnesses laid out in the shadows of the weedy flower garden along the fence, the two men scurried across to the loading bay, where the door rolled up as if expecting them.

  ‘It’s Greggie!’ Mira said. ‘He’s inside, letting them in.’

  ‘That can’t be right. He had an air-tight alibi that puts him elsewhere, at a party that night.’

  ‘Well, he was here. Wait, wait! They’re talking …’

  Your uncle was supposed to meet us, Dean said. We left some tools here, and he was going to write out that final cheque he still owed us from May.

  You missed him, Greggie replied. Must have slipped his mind. He asked me to lock up, but I guess it’s a good thing for you I’m running late, hey? Come on in. He may have left an envelope for you on his desk.

  ‘This is weird,’ Mira said, watching intently. ‘Greggie seems virtually innocent at that stage.’

  ‘Innocent men don’t need alibis.’

  ‘Hang on, now the truck is rocking.’

  The shadow-lurker waited until the others were fully inside the shop before emerging, and as he turned to sneak in after them, Mira recognised him from the memorial photo. ‘It’s Theo Greppia! And he’s got a gun! I can’t believe it. It looks as if he’s going to rob them.’

  ‘Rob his own store?’

  ‘More likely them. He looks really angry … Come on; they’re going in.’

  ‘Hang five. This warrant doesn’t apply to military personnel. It’s for civilian detectives only, so if you want your friend back with his name cleared, you have to play by the rules strictly.’

  ‘Another leash?’ She wrinkled her nose, but she couldn’t get into the shop by herself anyway. ‘Have I told you people how much I hate you?’

  ‘Not today.’

  She kicked the bitumen and waited, but not for long before she heard a car skid to a halt near the driveway entrance and Davit Uno asking for ID, then permitting admittance.

  ‘Senior Detective Sydney Symes,’ said the first man to get out beside Mira. He shook hands with Lockman, making a soft slap that sounded like passing a wet fish, and Mira sidestepped behind Lockman to avoid catching the same thing. ‘Thanks for meeting us, Lieutenant. It’s rare to get military assistance on a case like this.’

  ‘Detective Clyde Moser,’ said the second, and the slap of hands sounded more like a smack. ‘So where’s the care package?’

  ‘You’re looking at her.’ Lockman sidestepped slightly, making Mira feel more exposed, and in thanks, she dug him in the ribs with her knuckle, causing him to flinch more than she intended. ‘Ow, hey …’ He took her hand, raised and patted it, presenting her more like royalty. ‘General Garland sends her compliments, along with her most unique asset, Miss X.’

  Mira frowned, resentful of being treated as such a thing, but kept silent, afraid that two professional detectives would be smart enough to figure out her secret from the smallest hints or slipped conversation.

  ‘So what is she?’ Moser asked. ‘A snitch or a mole?’

  ‘Neither,’ Lockman replied. ‘You can’t use any of her testimony in court, because technically, she doesn’t exist. General Garland wishes to remind you that the goal of collaboration here tonight is to identify leads worthy of follow-up investigation. If you’re later called upon to report on how any of your leads were seeded, you’re to attribute your lines of investigation to your own gut instincts.’

  ‘She’s the proverbial little bird,’ Moser said.

  ‘Little birds can be made to sing for a jury,’ Lockman argued. ‘That won’t be happening.’

  ‘She’s a ghost,’ Symes said. ‘I get it.’

  Mira laughed.

  ‘Something funny, Miss X?’ asked Moser.

  Shaking her head, she headed for the building.

  ‘Take your time,’ Lockman said, walking beside her, ‘and shout if you need anything.’

  ‘Wait, you’re not coming in with me?’ The thought of relying on complete strangers to prevent her from tripping repulsed her far more than confiding in Lockman. Military or not, at least she knew him and trusted him that much.

  ‘The warrant isn’t for military personnel,’ he reminded her. ‘You’re their consultant. Just do what you do and report.’

  ‘So if I do shout, you can’t come in anyway?’

  ‘Ah, no, that would be different.’

  ‘Then I’m shouting now, Lieutenant. I don’t mix well with strangers.’

  ‘They were both sergeants before they made detectives. Remember what I told you about sergeants?’

  ‘Yeah — brain damaged.’

  ‘Invincible,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘You’re in safe hands, ma’am. Trust me.’

  ‘Trust you,’ she muttered, turning for the shop. ‘If I don’t come out smiling, you’re going to need your whole army to defend you — and don’t think I didn’t notice you’re calling me ma’am again!’

  ‘She’s been ill,’ Lockman said apologetically. ‘Best stay close, gentlemen, in case she trips or faints. General Garland requires that she’s returned to us in the same condition she goes in.’

  One of them hooked her arm in arm; suit coat, slim arm and classy aftershave. Symes, she guessed, having seen their ghosts and remembering Moser to be the bigger and beefier of the two. She wrenched away from him. ‘No touchy!’ she snapped. ‘Unless I’m falling.�
�

  ‘That can be arranged,’ Moser whispered.

  ‘I heard that,’ Mira said, ‘and I know all about your weird little tattoo, so you just keep your distance.’

  ‘What tattoo?’ Moser asked, still behind her.

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s Symes with Duck Dodgers on his nipple. You’re the one with that big mole on your rump.’

  Neither of them replied, so she could only imagine their faces.

  ‘She’s good,’ Lockman said, accompanying her as far as the roller door. ‘Grumpy, but good.’

  Garland braced herself inside the cargo hold of her airborne command centre as the Galaxy hit turbulence.

  At the ‘office end’ of the cargo hold, it was business as usual inside the two inter-connectable shipping containers that contained all the staff and equipment she needed to keep track of military and civil defence assets around the country, along with a number of operatives currently working overseas. Her predecessor had burned out in three years, but as the seventh child of nine in a family of over-achievers, she’d been born multi-tasking and managing crib siblings. And as the only daughter among so many sons, she’d been raised to play smart and rough while messing it up with the bigger boys. Next month marked her seventh anniversary and the job still excited her; each victory a landmark, even though each mission against an adversary took years of painstaking tracking, planning, preparation and execution — often thwarted at times by well-resourced and cagy enemies based in enclaves overseas. Nobody aside from herself and a few key ministers would ever know about the differences she’d made and the lives she’d saved over the years in a job that technically didn’t exist except in times of war, but it was those kinds of results which drove her, not any shallow desire to reach the limelight. Each success served as its own reward, quite literally, by gathering technology, experience, tactics and often also the intel and networking contacts she needed to tackle the next mission — networking contacts that she was relying on heavily today for a range of missions all over the country — all in support of the current primary goal with Mira Chambers.