by Bowes, K T
Logan turned to go, inwardly furious for reasons only he and Pete knew, but then he stopped. “What was the actual debt? What did you lose?”
Pete threaded the five dollar note self-consciously through his fingers and back again. “Just over five hundy.”
“What did they take?” Logan’s voice was dangerously sharp.
“Couple of thousand,” Pete said, his eyes fixed on the paper money in his hand as though it was also partly to blame. “It was doubling and I couldn’t keep up. It scared the crap out of me. It’s like, you get in and then can’t get out.”
“How did they take it?”
“Cash,” Pete’s voice was a whisper. Then he looked dreadfully ashamed, as though anticipating the next question. He decided to confess before Logan asked. “Henrietta met them outside the Gordonton Arms. She wouldn’t let me go, said it would complicate things. I feel really bad about that. I should have gone, not her.”
Logan nodded sagely. Hell would freeze over before he screwed up and sent his wife to go sort it out. But Pete was Pete and had probably reasoned the enormous Henrietta was more than capable of taking care of herself. Logan acknowledged Pete with that funny upward tilt of the head that he did to mere acquaintances and turned to go. Pete had betrayed a very old trust and he knew it, even before Logan disconnected their friendship with the telling movement.
Pete desperately sought the cathartic urge to come clean and somehow make it right. “Hey, bro...”
Logan looked back to see Pete twisting and turning the money in his hand so hard that he was in danger of tearing it in two. Logan stopped with one hand on the door handle, his face a picture of confusion and anger.
“Bro...I feel bad because the guys who collected the money drove off in a black BMW. I think they’re the ones who keep going after Hana. I should have told you before, I know that. I’m sorry. I feel awful.”
Logan gritted his teeth and blinked slowly before answering him, “You should feel bad. On two counts now. Stay away from me Pete. For good!”
Logan taught for two more periods after lunch, using the mental gymnastics of switching from year group to year group - Shakespeare to creative writing - to rid himself of the feeling of annoyance that consumed his brain. He had pieced it together even without Pete’s details. But even so, surely a mate was a mate! He felt cross enough to put Pete in the hospital bed next to Boris, but what would that achieve? After school, he drove over to the police station to sign in, only to be told Detective Sergeant Odering wanted to see him. “I don’t have time. Can I sign in anyway?”
“No,” the officer at the front desk told him. “I’ve got a message that he wants to see you.”
Logan swore. Odering didn’t answer his office phone and time was too tight to play games. He knew why Odering wanted him and the answer was still ‘no.’ Unprepared to wait around for the policeman when Hana was about to start receiving the stall holders at four o’clock, Logan declined to stay. “Tell him I came in willingly to sign. I wouldn’t want my non-compliance to come back and bite me later.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone and the desk officer ignored it, having seen worse. “Oh and make sure you write this down, won’t you? About the other thing he wants from me; tell him he can go screw himself. Do you need me to spell any part of that for you?” Logan spoke with irritating slowness so the officer could write it down. Then he left.
Odering could come and find him for a change. If it wasn’t too much trouble, that was. On his way out of the front door, Logan did a rude gesture for the benefit of the overhead security camera and took a quick phone snap of the desk sergeant sat underneath the clock. It helpfully showed the time and date in blocky digital numbers; his evidence, in case something brown and sticky should hit the fan. ‘Be careful,’ Liza had said. So this was him being careful. He had turned up to sign in; this was his proof.
Logan made it back to school in record time. He had lost his parking slot so pinched someone else’s. Other staff would be leaving for the day and hopefully not returning. There were some staff members whose parks he wouldn’t want to pinch. It would be an outright act of war like invading a small country and Logan wasn’t in the mood. He hustled into the building via the back entrance, locating Hana fairly quickly. She was in the main hall, pointing like an air hostess at various pitches already set up with extension cables and signs sellotaped to the parquet floors. The head groundsman ran around tutting loudly, swapping the sticky plastic for blu-tack and complaining about the varnish coming off. “Bloody women!” he hissed through his teeth and Logan stared him down until the man paled and decided to check something in another part of the building.
Hana looked stunning in her new clothes. The smoke grey contrasted beautifully with the mahogany colours in her hair and the outfit closed snugly around her body. She felt Logan watching her from across the room and sought him out with her stunning green eyes. Then she pointed to her dress and gave him a smile and the thumbs-up and he felt gratified.
Logan stood and drowned in his admiration for her, kicking himself when the moment for approaching his wife was lost. Hana was hijacked by another arrival and hurried the two burly men over to a marked-out rectangle near the stage area. The ground floor of the building was a hive of activity as data projectors were connected up, screens assembled and interesting brochure stands erected. There seemed to be people everywhere.
Silently, Logan moved around wherever Hana was, helping out with small jobs but careful not to take on anything that would keep him caught up and unable to shadow his wife if she left the room. He watched her closely and kept an eye on the entrances and exits. Unfortunately, the fire doors were wide open for presenters to unload their vehicles and carry their gear in, so it meant he continually swivelled on the spot to monitor what was happening.
“Excuse me. Please could you help?” The presenter from a Northland college indicated her intricate stand leaning jauntily at an angle. “I don’t think I’ve put it together right.” She simpered and smiled seductively through bright, glossy pink lips. The display stand was a complicated thing full of awkward poles, bolts and washers. Logan figured perhaps it was a low budget affair, as the other organisations had apparatus which assembled itself as soon as it escaped from the bag.
The woman was in her mid-twenties, dark haired and appealing and she flirted with Logan shamelessly. She seemed completely unfazed by the wedding ring on his finger and to his surprise it irritated him. He knew what it felt like to be on the end of a cheat and even the thought caused Logan to recoil. The girl leaned down right next to his face so he practically looked into her padded bra. Her nametag said ‘Kerry’ and the teacher figured she would be a great hit with the hundreds of spotty, drooling teenage boys about to visit her in the next two hours.
Logan saw Hana disappear rapidly out of the fire exit alongside a broad, bald headed man bearing a large oblong case. He planted the stand roughly on the ground next to the table the woman was using. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
Kerry fluttered her eyelashes at him and looked put out, not used to being abandoned half way through a flirt. Spotting a prefect roaming around aimlessly, Logan called him by name.
The student was dressed in his best uniform. It was the familiar black and white jacket with white shirt and school tie. Logan had always thought it made the boys look like English Humbug mints or some horrible black and white minstrel troupe. Numerous gold badges decorated the boy’s lapels, telling his personal success story, Prefect, Captain of Arts, House Leader, Student Council member. They glittered as he quick-stepped over to Logan, his face full of enquiry. Logan indicated the stand and the unfinished banner. “Please could you help this lady?” he asked the boy. “It’s nearly done but you’re bright. You’ll work it out. The other poles need to fix in here and here.” Logan’s eyes roved towards the open doorway which accentuated Hana’s absence.
The woman’s gaze flashed between the fresh-faced young man and the teacher, who looked like a rancher. His work trousers wer
e expensively tight fitting and he had black cowboy boots poking out from underneath. He was athletic and capable. He didn’t seem as though he might be gay but it was unusual for her to flash her assets and get no reaction. Kerry thanked Logan woodenly as he smiled politely and strode off across the room to the exit. Turning back to the young man, Kerry was gratified by the flush which made its way quickly across his cheeks when she turned her hundred watt smile onto him. Now that was more like it.
Logan grabbed a brochure from the table next to the door and opened it furiously. He kicked himself mentally for not getting one sooner and familiarising himself with the various classrooms being used for the different presenters. Hana had chattered away for weeks about the problems with rooming and how a number of the guests had switched at the last minute due to lack of power or problems with capacity. He wished fervently he had paid attention and done more than nod in the right places. Logan’s grey eyes intently scoured the pages and risked waiting a few minutes in the hall, in case Hana settled her guest and returned to the hub of activity. He didn’t want to miss her by running around the corridors like an idiot. When she hadn’t returned within a few moments, he mentally carved up the rooms into possible places she may have gone and then set off at a jog. His heart pounded and he pleaded inwardly, Oh God, oh God!
The event was widely advertised both through the school network of parents, teachers and students and the local paper. It had also been emblazoned on a huge board outside the school front gates for weeks. Determined to make a name for the school in careers advisors’ circles, Sheila had invited all the local schools to attend. Take-up would not be of hideous proportions as it required students and their families to come in the evening from six o’clock until eight and many of them would let it slip by without a second thought. But the last event recorded a steady throughput of almost three thousand. It would be a perfect opportunity for someone to enter the property and take a good look around without raising any suspicion whatsoever. Hana was more vulnerable than she had ever been.
Logan shoved his head through each classroom door on the ground floor of K Block as he passed. A huge sign on one of them said ‘Dairy NZ’ and a life-sized cow greeted him inside the doorway, complete with udders and grass in its mouth. A model of a milking machine was being erected on tables nearby. The presenters were certainly taking it all extremely seriously. “Sorry, just looking for Hana,” Logan said as the men looked enquiringly at him. They hadn’t seen her in the last half an hour.
As he pulled his head out of the door and made to move off, Logan heard his name called from the other end of the corridor. He whipped round, gratefully recognising Bodie. He jogged down towards him and Bodie reprimanded him playfully, “Don’t run in the corridor!”
Logan’s body language was urgent and he didn’t smile. “I can’t find Hana!” he said, panic edging his voice.
Bodie rolled his eyes. He was dressed in his everyday uniform, but his shoes were much shinier than usual, aware that hundreds of hopeful applicants to the NZ Police Force would stare critically down at them. He wore his heavy, navy blue protective vest over his shirt, complete with a tool belt containing Taser, pepper spray and night stick.
“I just looked in all these rooms,” Logan continued, “and I saw her leave the hall. I can’t find her.”
It was so unusual to see Logan panic, Bodie became spooked as well. Another head poked out of a door towards the end of the corridor and looked around urgently. It had a smart uniform hat on it and as the rest of the body followed, it could be seen wearing police full dress uniform, complete with a lapel full of medals. “Johal,” the police officer called in a commanding voice, “it’s all about to start.”
Logan’s eyes grew round as he realised Bodie would be shut inside a presentation room for two hours and absolutely no use in finding and guarding Hana. Bodie looked like a man caught between a rock and a hard place. Logan touched him lightly on the arm. “It’s ok man, I’m probably panicking over nothing. I’ll find her.”
Bo still looked conflicted and turned slowly as Logan jogged away in the opposite direction. As Logan put his hand on the double doors at the end, he heard Bodie shout him and turned. “Try the office,” he suggested. “Text me when you find her.”
Logan gave him a grateful thumbs-up. Bodie was right; she might have gone back for something.
Logan took the stairs three at a time. At the top of the landing, he paused to look out of the window, dialling Hana’s mobile number again. Voicemail. Dusk had come at five thirty and night, shortly after. The sky wore its darkest navy outfit and lights blazed throughout the school. Q Block was visibly in use as families poured onto the site. Already people milled around, peering in external windows, glancing at programmes and deciding which speakers to go and listen to. There seemed to be significant groups all over, pulling their winter clothing more tightly around them as they hovered outside classrooms. Logan whipped round and ran to the office. He tried both doors. They were locked and he didn’t have a master key. He dashed through the staffroom and out the other side to the ladies’ toilets. He took a deep breath and opened the door, calling out first before sticking his head in the doorway. “Hana? Are you in here?”
There was no one at the sinks and the cubicles all faced the door, empty. Logan backed out quickly and used the rear stairs, looping round to the Great Hall again. He saw one of the lab assistants coming out of the toilets downstairs by the back door.
“Is Hana in there?” he asked, blocking her path. She shook her head,
“Sorry, no. I haven’t seen her for a while.”
There were people everywhere, the place was heaving and more poured in, filling every single inch of floor space. For the school, it was a resounding success. For Logan, it was a nightmare.
The school bell sounded abruptly, a single quick, deafening blast cutting across the voices and the sound of hundreds of people moving around. It was as though a plug had been pulled. The crowds swirled and dispersed, filing into the hall, down the corridors, outside towards Q Block, heading to the talk they most wanted to hear. Logan needed to wait until everyone was settled. Then he stood more chance of being able to use his six foot, four inch height to locate Hana, once everywhere was still. Each presentation took thirty minutes, repeated three times, leaving half an hour for general exhibiting and questions.
Logan felt overheated with all the moving bodies and pushed his way out of the door near the toilets. Calm! He forced his ragged nerves to respond to the command. The back of the site was not in use for the Expo apart from as an emergency exit point, or for those who had parked on the road behind the school. Logan’s tall frame spewed out into the night air, standing on the steps with light flooding around him while his grey eyes adjusted to the darkness, punctuated only by spotlights housed on high buildings. He exhaled deeply and then filled his lungs with welcome cold air.
A line of wooden benches surrounded the area, fixed to the walls of the buildings as seating at interval and lunchtime, if boys didn’t want to play sport on the field or Astroturf. Logan’s eyes raked the area, sifting through the family groups moving slowly towards the doorway and the little knots of students using the open grounds as somewhere to ‘hang.’
A flash of something different caught his keen eye, over near the path leading down to the gully. Logan walked towards where the light reflected what looked like fabric, breaking into a run as he recognised Hana sitting on the bench alone. Her face was white in the dim light and the reflected glint was the scarf he bought her at lunchtime. Logan thumped down next to Hana, making the wooden slats bounce. He grabbed her in a hard embrace that communicated all his fear and exasperation to her. “Geez woman! I’ve been going out of my mind!”
“Sorry,” she said, her voice muffled in Logan’s warm jacket. She sounded sad and distant. “I took the engineers to their room and then came over a bit faint. I thought the fresh air might help. It was getting terribly stuffy inside.” She pushed hard at Logan’s strong chest
as the cloth of the jacket hindered her breathing. Through the strength of his crushing hug, Hana felt her husband unmistakably trembling. Logan let go, but only slightly. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing, it’s fine. Nothing.”
“I don’t have pockets for my phone and the midwife told me off for putting it down my bra. I put it in this little bag, but I can’t hear it then. The midwife thinks putting it down your bra is why breast cancer is becoming more common...” her voice trailed off.
Hana felt her husband’s pounding heartbeat and knew she prattled out of guilt. Logan nestled her into him, saying nothing, running his fingers through her curls which rebelled in the night air and splayed out over her back. He took a handful and held on to it until the panic subsided. “Are you done now?” he asked hopefully after a few minutes. “Can we go home?”
He felt Hana shake her head. “No. I have to walk around taking photos, directing any lost parents and then at eight o’clock, there’s a supper in the staffroom for the presenters. I have to heat the savouries, serve drinks and clear up afterwards. Then we can go.”
Logan groaned inwardly. One hour and fifty minutes until all the students filtered off, then another hour for the supper and the clearing away to get through. He let Hana go and sat back on the bench to think, his jacket shifting noisily against the brick wall. The idea came to him. “Let’s go up to the balcony! It’s a great vantage point to take pictures from.”