‘They have an Initiation Department? What next? Birthdays and Anniversaries Department? Wait – Leather Britches sympathised with you after they blotted out the memories of your parents? She went all soft and cuddly?’
‘She let me know that she understood what I was going through, and that she didn’t like it.’
‘Ah. Sharing something personal?’
‘That’s what it sounded like. And after that, she was always the one who advised me to keep an open mind on all matters concerning ghosts, but counselled me to have patience, as well.’
‘I’m hearing a mess of contradictions here. Hard and scary on the one hand, and thoughtful and understanding on the other.’
‘Sometimes, I think she’s playing a long game. That’s why I think that if we can get to the bottom of this Rogue issue, she’ll be prepared to accept that I’m capable of staying here.’
‘And you won’t need to be shipped off for re-education?’
‘Re-training. No.’
‘She won’t be angry that you lied to her?’
‘I’m not saying that, but she’ll understand. Later. Necessities of the situation and all that.’
‘So where do her loyalties lie, then?’
‘With the Company. There’s no doubt about that. But that doesn’t necessarily mean loyalty to the current board of the Company and its direction. I think her view of the Company is larger than that.’
‘I love it when something complicated becomes even more complicated.’ I took a right-angle turn, conversationally. ‘I’m guessing, though, that your parents aren’t totally over the moon about your independent stance.’
‘Not totally, but they’ve acceded to it.’
‘I guess they have to, otherwise it’s goodbye river of gold.’
Rani’s hands turned into fists really, really quickly. ‘It’s not like that. They’re good people. They’re just worried about me.’
I held up my hands, not as fists, but palm upwards in a placating gesture that worked on dogs and small, rabid children. ‘Okay, sorry, I withdraw that slur. They’ve got your best interests at heart and no one’s good enough for their girl.’
‘Like just about every parent ever.’ She unclenched her fists. ‘People think it’s hard being adopted, but I don’t know any different. I do know that it’s hard being an adoptive parent. So many doubts, so much wondering about where love comes from and where it goes.’
‘Same goes for step-parents,’ I said, thinking about Judith.
I get on well enough with Judith, and Dad has been a whole lot brighter since they hooked up three years ago. She spends a lot of time away at conferences – medical – too, which could be a good thing, could be a bad thing. She’s a neurologist, smart, kind enough, had been some help with my studies (especially chemistry), but hadn’t really had an impact on my life – except in the way she made Dad happy. I have to like her for that.
Their marriage had lasted this far, and that was evidence of something, right?
‘I think it’s the same for people. Full stop.’ She yawned, covering her mouth. ‘It’s late. Early. Whatever. I need some sleep.’
‘Good idea. We can leave Bec and Dad working away and hope they’ll come up with something while we get some rest.’
Rani looked away. ‘You can stay here, if you like.’
Okay, so I’ll explain in detail how I felt at that. It was as if a gremlin had secretly planted a whole lot of high explosive charges throughout my body, and then tied invisible ropes to my wrists and ankles with the other ends attached to high-speed winding devices. Winches. Capstans. Whatever. I’m imagining this as I go along, right?
When Rani made her tentative offer, all the explosives went off at once and all the high-speed winders went into action simultaneously. So I was jolted by dozens of conflicting impulses and torn in many directions, all at once.
I might have been reading too much into Rani’s overture, but that’s what it felt like.
‘I beg your pardon?’ I managed to say.
‘There’s lots of spare bedrooms.’ She caught sight of my face, and she rolled her eyes. ‘Not in a month of Sundays, you plonker.’
I blushed, tried to backtrack and babbled unconvincingly about how I hadn’t been thinking what I’d obviously been thinking until she turned me around and propelled me towards the gate. ‘Go.’
I wandered home, pretty dazed, as if I’d run a marathon and then taken part in a casual mixed martial arts bout. I was glad to be in the commuter rush, when no one asked any tourist questions or anything. To tourists, I have an approachable, harmless and knowledgeable face, apparently. I’m always being asked directions, for help with ticket machines, or for opinions about the weather by people who are clearly from elsewhere.
Anton, Friend to Tourists, that’s me.
I got home, made some Anzac biscuits, tidied up a little, had a shower, and went to bed.
When I woke at around eleven, Dad was at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. His old Gladstone bag was on the floor at his side.
‘I had someone at the shop today,’ he said.
‘That’s good,’ I said, yawning and desperate for a coffee myself. ‘Business must be looking up.’
‘Diane Gatehouse.’
My coffee hunt came to an abrupt end. ‘Get a feather and knock me over with it.’
‘Surprised that she called in to the shop?’ Dad asked.
‘That, and that her first name is Diane. What time was this?’ ‘About three.’
‘She must have gone straight to you after leaving Rani’s parents’ place.’
‘She said she’d seen you, but she didn’t say where. I think it’s time for a report of a rather different kind, don’t you?’
I wanted to know about this Commander Diane (Diane!) Gatehouse bookshop drop-in, but Dad could be incredibly stubborn when it came to reports. I gave him the edited low-down about the tense little meeting between Gatehouse, the Crosses, Rani and me. He didn’t scribble away, though. He just made a few notes.
‘And that’s it,’ I concluded. ‘Your turn.’
‘You’re not going to take notes?’
I tapped my temple. ‘It’s all up here.’
‘You can imagine my surprise when Diane walked into the shop,’ he said. ‘Rebecca had just left…’ He paused. ‘I’ll wager that Diane had been observing the shop and waited until Rebecca had gone.’
‘Rani said she’s a pro. She fights the war in a different way from us, though.’
‘I recognised her straight away, and after I got over the shock of seeing her I had a fleeting moment when I thought she’d come to eliminate me.’
‘Are you saying she’s an assassin or something?’
‘She’s many things. An assassin is only one of them.’
‘This Company of the Righteous is one mixed-up enterprise.’ I stumbled to the bench. Our coffee grinder is an old manual one. Dad insists it gets the best results, and grinding away with it gave me something to do with my hands. ‘So why would she want to kill you?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Dad said.
‘I get the feeling that there are a whole lot of long stories that I need to get hold of. They might explain a few things.’
‘They might help keep you alive, too.’
‘There is that.’ I filled the espresso maker with ground coffee, and added water. ‘But how about the short version of the story about why she might want to kill you?’
‘It’s nothing personal.’ He frowned for a moment. ‘It might have something to do with what my ancestors took with them when they left the Company so abruptly, of course.’
Okay, so more mysteries to follow up. Not now, though, Anton! ‘Which means that she might want to kill me too?’
‘This is all possible, which is why I was a touch anxious when she came through the door. But eliminating Marins isn’t on her agenda, at the moment, anyway. She has other fish to fry.’
‘Busy, busy, busy.’ I lit the stove top and
settled the espresso maker on it. Next, juice. ‘But it wasn’t just a social call, was it?’ ‘She wanted to talk about the Trespassers that seem to be descending on Melbourne.’
‘Yeah. They seemed to be on her mind.’ Pine orange. Good. ‘You haven’t told me much about these Trespassers, though. What is it? Some sort of collective term for nasty, evil ghost hunter types?’
He rubbed his forehead and I was abruptly taken by how old he looked. How old was he, really? Forty-eight? Forty-nine? Something like that. ‘It’s been difficult, Anton, with your hesitation about entering the family business. You only agreed to do the job for a year, so I didn’t want to burden you too much. Besides, if you’re not in this business, there are many things it’s better not to know.’
‘Ignorance is bliss, right?’
‘It’s more of a “need to know” situation.’ He fiddled with a waistcoat button for a while. ‘The ordinary people out there, the ones we protect, they don’t know about our doings, and they’re better off for it.’
‘Mmm…been meaning to talk about that. It might be the wisdom of the ages, but what about transparency and a right to know rather than a need to know?’
Dad drooped. ‘Not now, Anton, please.’
‘Let’s table it.’ But not forget it. ‘So Commander Diane was all antsy about some of these guys blowing into town and taking over the joint?’
‘Huh. Antsy. I can’t imagine Diane ever getting antsy, but she was concerned.’
‘It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there in ghost-hunting land.’
‘You’re right, though. “Trespassers” is a name that’s used to cover a range of unsavoury ghost hunters. Some of these Trespassers are quasi-military orders, like an evil version of the Company of the Righteous. Others are quasi-religious. Some are small family groups bound together by blood ties. There are even those who are organised as a collective with shared decision-making and responsibility.’
‘All shapes and sizes, hey?’
‘They all have their own reasons for hunting ghosts. None of them are good.’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘They wouldn’t just congregate by coincidence.’
‘Trouble at the mill.’ Coffee was ready. I poured myself a cup of bliss. ‘One of the crossbeams gone askew on the treadle.’
He smiled, catching the reference for once. ‘Trouble at the mill, indeed, but just who is the Spanish Inquisition? Them or us?’
‘I hope it’s us, and I get to wear those stunning red robes.’
‘With all this increase in movement among the dark set, Diane wanted to warn me. Warn us. Off the record.’
‘Not in her official capacity as Grand Poobah of the Company of the Righteous?’ Coffee, juice. Now, I wouldn’t mind porridge, but the Weet-Bix were ready-made. I pawed around in the pantry.
‘As an old friend.’ Something about the way he said that made me look over my shoulder.
Dad was blushing. He rubbed his face with both hands, but he couldn’t hide it. It crept up his neck and under his beard.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Tell me it isn’t so.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ he said, but he smiled at the memory.
‘I don’t want to know,’ I said.
‘Many, many years past. Before your mother.’
‘I’m going to stick my fingers in my ears, I tell you.’
‘We were young. Not much older than you.’
‘I’m dying a little inside.’ I found a bowl and emptied a few slabs of wheaty nourishment into it. ‘Wait, was this after Aunt Tanja and her or before?’
His eyes went distant. ‘Before. I think. Yes, definitely before.’
Milk from the fridge. ‘Speaking of stuff that it’s better not to know.’
‘That wasn’t the point of telling you that, but I’m happy you see the relevance.’
‘And otherwise you were telling me just to see me squirm?’
‘It’s the sort of background detail that might be important one day.’
‘That you and your sister dated the same person? Important? Can’t see how.’
‘It shows that the Marins and the Company of the Righteous haven’t always been on the outer with each other.’
‘I’ll keep it in the back of my mind at all times.’ I started in on the Weet-Bix. They didn’t taste great. ‘So, after her ominous warning, she scarpered?’
‘“Scarpered”? Too many nineties British police dramas there, Anton.’ He crossed his arms on his chest. ‘She didn’t leave immediately. We had coffee.’
‘Cosy.’ I wondered if he’d tell Judith about this. I guessed he would. They were pretty open, Dad and Judith. She knew about the ghost-hunting business, and it’s a sign that she really likes him that she didn’t flee when he told her.
And, with that, I spent a moment or two contemplating the many and various forms of human relationships in all their glory, as you do, in between shovelling spoonfuls of breakfast cereal into my mouth.
Dad reached into his old Gladstone bag on the floor. He passed me a folder. ‘Rebecca said to give this to you. She’s found some possibilities.’
I scanned the printouts. Newspapers, some columns of figures, some maps. ‘And how’s she been going otherwise?’
Dad brought me up to speed on Bec’s progress on the archive (outstanding) and on his research into Rogues (slow) before he finally headed off to bed himself.
I love my dad. He’s frustrating sometimes, and irritating, and confusing, but I was starting to understand that I may have been all that as well – and he put up with it. His patience was maybe his greatest strength and it meant that after sailing through some stormy seas we looked as if we were reaching calmer waters, where I could appreciate him a bit more than I did when I was younger.
And that’s another notch on the maturity belt, I’d say. Excuse me while I buff my fingernails.
So now it was back to business as usual – finding a homicidal phasmaturgist while keeping an eye out for evil ghost hunters with an agenda all of their own who wouldn’t blink at snuffing out Rani and me.
Sounded like easy street.
CHAPTER 18
I heard Rani’s car coming so I grabbed my backpack, my dark green blazer, my flat cap, my green scarf and my long black wool overcoat. Not the greatcoat. I had a feeling we might need to be nimble.
‘What’s in the folder?’ Rani asked as I jumped into the car. She was in a black night-time-ninja-raid outfit. Black coat over black sweater and black pants. She looked like a panther.
‘Stuff from Bec.’
‘She’s a treasure,’ Rani said. ‘How long have you known her?’
‘All my life, more or less. We’ve grown up together.’
Rani made a job of adjusting one of the control knobs on the dashboard. ‘You seem very close.’
‘I hope you’re not one of those people who think that men and women can’t be close friends without being romantic.’ Hold on a second. ‘Of course, if a man and a woman would like to be romantic that’s okay too, and friendly in a different way.’
Rani got out of the car and extracted her sword from the rack by the car seat. She slipped her phone out of a pocket and studied it, smiling slightly. ‘Any leads on the one-eared barrister?’
‘Stacey Evans’s target?’ I flapped a hand. ‘Not yet.’
‘Bec has discovered that he lives in a Docklands apartment. She’s sent me the address.’ She held up her phone so I could see.
‘You two are collaborating behind my back.’
‘We have an understanding.’
‘So I see.’
‘Anton, Stacey Evans isn’t going to let things lie. She tried once and failed, but that won’t stop her from trying again.’
I kicked that one around for a second or two. ‘How can we know that?’
‘Perhaps we can’t, but rather than patrolling aimlessly, we should drive by and see if anything is happening.’ She opened the car door. ‘So, which direction is this Docklands?’
It was an unusu
al time in Melbourne – we were between festivals. This city, over the years, has grown festivals the same way a beach picnic sprouts seagulls. Comedy festivals, fashion festivals, food and wine festivals, writers’ festivals…Melbourne seems to roll from one to the other without a break, so to find ourselves in the middle of the city at night with no festival crowds making merry was a bit strange.
We cut across the top of the city, around the market, and then, following my directions, down Dudley Street and Wurundjeri Way.
All Nite Parking was all night. We parked.
Like most modern car parks, this one was a concrete monster, largely open to the world to save on lighting bills. Rani went to the balcony/retaining wall and scanned the jumble of corporate headquarters, giant hotels, retail outlets and apartment complexes that made up this newish corner of the city. Lots of water around, with Victoria Harbour and, out past that, the Yarra. Once upon a time this was a busy working place, ships berthing from all over the world, cargo being unloaded by sweat and muscle power, nothing fancy at all. Lots of history, though.
Well past midnight made it like a bit of a ghost town (heh), especially with the wind whipping off the water. I wrapped my scarf tightly around my neck, jammed my cap on and made sure my coat was buttoned, wishing that I’d brought gloves.
Rani had. They were black, naturally, leather. She’d also found a hat, round, narrow brim. A toque, like 1920s flappers would wear? Very cool.
We turned a corner. The cold air slapped my face and I pointed. ‘There. That’s the one.’
The apartment block wasn’t far from the cluster of hotels that overlooked the north end of Victoria Harbour. It was another steel and glass slab, with nattily quirky balconies that swooped and curved along the flanks of the building.
‘We watch and wait, I suppose.’ Rani had gloves, true, but she kept her hands in the pockets of her coat. The wind was that wild.
I followed her lead and rammed my hands further into the pockets of my coat. ‘We could use that trained monkey to do that, if we could afford the banana bill.’
Rani scanned the area. ‘If only there was a warm bar we could sit in around here, one that overlooked the place we’re meant to keep an eye on.’
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