Prophets and Loss (A Johnny Ravine Mystery)

by Martin Roth

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I woke up lying on the floor and feeling like a character in one of those Hong Kong arthouse movies, with wavy soft-tone pigments stretching to the edges of my field of vision, and all movement a kind of juddering semi-blur. Briony was watching over me. She offered me a glass of water from a tray next to her on the floor.

  “I don’t think it was such a good idea to attack that guy,” she said brightly. “You came off a lot worse than he did. Though come to think of it that was only because he called in a few thugs to drag you away. Up till then I thought you were winning.”

  “I’ve been in worse shape.” I sat up with caution as grenades exploded in my head, and slowly maneuvered my body so that I was supported by the wall. I took the water with a shaking hand and sipped at it. I knew Melbourne water was good, but seldom did it refresh like this.

  It felt as if every part of my body was damaged. At least one finger wouldn’t move properly and my face felt puffy. A couple of teeth seemed loose. Remarkably there was little blood. My assailants had kept it clean.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “Still in the house. They put us in another room with no windows. They said they don’t think we’ll be here long. I don’t know what that means.”

  I finished the water. “How long was I out of it?”

  “You’ve been out all night. It’s Wednesday morning. I thought it was going to be days. They really gave it to you.”

  “What about you? Are you okay? They didn’t try and do anything to you, did they?”

  “Let them try.”

  I sank back against the wall. Then we heard the door being unlocked. It opened and in walked Alberto. His face was marked with cuts, and his left eye was turning purple. He threw a quick glance and sneer in my direction, then turned to Briony. “You come me,” he said to her with menace. Then he looked again in my direction. “You watch?”

  “That’s your style, isn’t it?” I said. “Raping women in front of their husbands. The militias in Dili were famous for that.”

  “Raping whore in front boyfriend,” said Alberto. “Not same.”

  And that was when it was Briony’s turn to get really mad. She slapped Alberto so hard that he recoiled in shock. Then she grabbed his hair and tugged. In his weakened condition he stumbled to the ground, almost falling on top of me. Enraged he stood back up and flung Briony against the wall. She screamed as she fell to the ground.

  It was my chance.

  Ignoring the jackhammer inside my skull I threw myself at Alberto in a rugby tackle. We both fell to the floor and started wrestling. I felt his big hands trying to take a grip on my throat. I punched him hard, and blood appeared on his lip.

  “Run Briony,” I shouted, but she had picked up a chair from a corner of the room and was trying to get a clear swing at Alberto.

  “I’ll take care of him,” I said to her. I didn’t want anyone to interfere. This moment was mine. I had my knee in his face and was trying to gouge out his eyes. “Run. Just get out of here.”

  She looked confused. She really wanted to smash the chair on Alberto. “Run,” I screamed at her, as I smashed my fist into Alberto’s face. “He’s all mine. Just get away.”

  She dropped the chair and went for the open door, but was too late. In walked Tom, holding a gun. He grabbed Briony and with surprising strength propelled her hard against the wall. Then he pointed the gun at me, and indicated that I should stand against the wall with her. With reluctance I loosened my grip on Alberto, who took the chance to smash a fist into my face.

  “Oh dear, trouble in the lower orders,” said Tom.

  Alberto stood awkwardly and walked with menace towards Briony. She spat in his face with great precision. He slapped her, and then pushed his body against her.

  “Down boy,” said Tom. “Down boy.” He looked at me. “Sorry. When you work with animals...” He shrugged his shoulders. “No wonder you wanted to come to Melbourne. Civilization.”

  “He was going to rape her,” I said.

  “Without paying? Dreadful.” He looked at Alberto again. “Out,” he said, pointing to the door with his thumb.

  Alberto looked at Tom, venom in his eyes. Then he pulled Briony to him. “She come me,” he said.

  “She no come you,” said Tom. “She stay here. You go back your cage.”

  But Alberto grabbed Briony and pulled her to him again.

  “Stop,” shouted Tom, waving his gun in the air. “Drop. Drop pretty lady.”

  Alberto, a look of fury on his face, walked to the door, dragging Briony. Tom pulled his arm to stop him, but Alberto shook himself free.

  “Little creep,” said Tom, and pushed Alberto hard. “I’m looking after these two. Now get out.”

  But Alberto made another attempt to leave with Briony. Tom pushed him hard, and Alberto retaliated with a swing at Tom.

  Both Briony and I saw a chance. She pushed Alberto hard against the wall, and at the same time I lunged for Tom’s gun. It spun out of his hand to the ground. I picked it up, managed to punch Tom in the face twice, then grabbed Briony’s hand.

  “Come on, run,” I shouted. “Before the other men come.”

  We had been confined in a room right at the head of the stairs. We fled down, and out the front door, into a narrow street of old brick houses. We ran to the end of the road. I realized that I was limping a lot more than usual. In the next street was a small park, where a dozen or more young mums had gathered with their pre-schoolers.

  “They’re not going to risk a shoot-out near a group of mothers and children,” I said, though I wasn’t so sure.

  We ran into the park and crouched behind the largest tree, a towering pine. None of the mothers seemed at all curious about this badly injured half-Asian man and his blonde companion. I felt fortunate to be in undemanding, uninquisitive Melbourne.

  Both my legs were in pain. I doubted that I could run much further. I opened the barrel of Tom’s Smith and Wesson, and found only one cartridge inside. That was a surprise. I recalled Tom saying he’d served in the Guards, so he had to be familiar with weaponry. But not to worry. One bullet was all I needed for Alberto. I was an excellent marksman.

  Suddenly Briony cried out: “Look, over there.” She pointed through some trees.

  It looked a lot like the large white van that had transported us from La Rue. It was driving slowly, and I could see a figure in the passenger seat peering out. I wondered if it was Alberto, and if I shouldn’t just run over and pump my bullet into his skull. But the van drove slowly away.

  “They’ll be back,” I said. “But I’m not sure if they’re up to trying anything. They know I have a gun.”

  “I’ll call the police,” said Briony. “One of these ladies will have a cell phone.”

  “No,” I said.

  “No? Johnny, what are you talking about?”

  “Not the police. Not yet.”

  “What do you mean, not yet?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “They’d better be good.”

  “Look Briony, I’m an illegal immigrant in a public park with a gun and a prostitute and I’m wanted for suspected murder. The police are going to be pretty dubious about anything you or I tell them. Get Rohan. At The Age. Tell him to drive over here right away. He’ll help us. And he has good contacts with the police.”

  I was rambling, making it up as I went, but Briony didn’t question me. I watched as she walked over to the mothers and chatted with them. One pulled out a mobile from her handbag and Briony placed a call, then she walked back to me behind the tree.

  “He said he’ll drive right here.”

  “Where did the women say we are?”

  “We’re in Coburg.”

  “What’s this park called?”

  “Fitzherbert Reserve. Rohan said he’ll find it.”

  Fitzherbert Reserve. I locked that into my memory.

  Rohan arrived quickly. “Mate, you look dreadful,” he said as soon as he saw m
e. “And Briony, my angel, you look nearly as gorgeous as ever.”

  “Shut up, Rohan,” said Briony. “Just get us out of here. And you’re going to have to go to the police. In the car I’ll tell you what’s been happening.”

  Rohan’s Mitsubishi was parked near the park edge, over by an empty tennis court. We walked over. When we came to the car I pulled out Tom’s gun. I pointed it at Rohan.

  “The car keys please.”

  Rohan’s eyes widened. “Mate, what’s this all about?”

  “I want the car keys. Hand them over.”

  “Johnny, don’t be stupid,” said Briony. “You’re cracking up. You’re not going to have problems with the police. We’ll look after you.”

  “We’re not going to the police. I’ve got unfinished business with Alberto. Give me the keys. I need to go somewhere.”

  “Come on Johnny, lad. Relax. This is Australia.”

  “Quick,” I shouted, holding the gun at his stomach.

  “He means it,” said Briony. “I didn’t understand what they were talking about in there, but it was pretty intense.”

  Rohan remained calm. “We’re not going to argue with a guy with a gun. But you’re making a mistake Johnny. We’re your friends. We want to help you. We don’t have to go to the police. We can go somewhere if you like. Have some coffee. Some beef noodles…”

  I pushed the gun hard into his stomach.

  Rohan displayed no fear, just disappointment. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled the keys from his pocket. He handed them to me.

  Then he and Briony watched as I climbed into the car and sped off.