Approaching Zero (12 page)

      The cornflake card was now on the car seat beside her and Kathy was well on her way to the airport. For the moment, the constant rambling in her mind was being silenced by the Corrs album playing in the vintage tape player. It sounded ropey even to her biased ears, but it was an album that had accompanied her though life and she could forgive the fact that it was now on its last legs. ‘Only When I Sleep’ belted out of the speakers and Kathy wished that she could sing; she always felt that life would be different if she could sing, as if singing powerful ballads like this was a cleansing and refreshing experience that left the singer renewed in some way. Her voice was so bad that she didn’t even sing when she was alone, but she could feel the emotion saturating every word and it was soothing the nerves that were now creeping in. Even her mum had told her that she should invest in a car CD player or even something to play an MP3 on, but she was quite happy with the tape. After it had played on repeat more times than Kathy could count, the airport crept onto the horizon and Kathy crawled along with the traffic into the darkened car parking area; she hated places like this and trying to find a space and back into it successfully, but she had too much on her mind to pay it much attention today and slid the car in far easier than she had expected. Before she got out of the car, she took a look at herself in the mirror to see if she was presentable, knowing that it was a bit late to do anything about it if she wasn’t. However, with half of her face caved in from her ‘accident,’ whether or not she had a few hairs out of place seemed irrelevant. Her only real concern was arriving at the terminal late, so she grabbed her bag, threw the sign under her arm and made her way, skipping through the corridors and walkways that led into the main airport.

The airport was alive with bodies rushing in all directions, the stress of people, like Kathy, fearing a missed plane, the dull hum of goodbye and the joyously erupting hellos; a gauntlet of wheelie bags and trollies, imposing advertising boards and cafes, endless signs to direct the human traffic; chaos on the ground, a spacious vacuum above with room enough to land the planes indoors. Kathy was usually far more excited at airports, knowing that there was somewhere hot fixed to the end of the journey, but despite her lack of excitement, her natural inclination toward punctuality kept her feet moving. And then she was there, waiting with a small handful of others of all shapes and sizes, some with boards—mostly men of a taxi-like persuasion—most with expectant faces. Kathy let the sign hang at her side and watched the walkway intensely as if she might blink and miss the surge of arriving passengers as if the walkway itself might collapse in on itself before transforming into a corridor-shaped robot and trampling them all to death. And then a smiling woman appeared in her immaculately pressed skirt, blouse, waistcoat, and scarf, with a tiny corner hat pinned precisely to the front of her meticulously-styled blonde hair. She was instantly likable, despite her appearance, in a way that only air hostesses managed to achieve. The passengers obviously appreciated the personality of this woman and the contribution she had made to their journey, as they filed past her and all either nodded and bowed their appreciation or shook her hand with zeal.

With the plane emptying, Kathy held the cornflake card in front of her and scanned the face of each female passenger, determining which would be her mystery Suri. She was still examining every tired eyes and weary smile emerging from the passageway when she heard a tiny voice by her side.

“Mrs. Smith?” it said quietly.

Kathy was tempted to ignore it and continue the search for her new sister in arms against evil, but she had to respond to her name.

“Yes, can I…?” What she saw when she turned around shocked the words from her.

“I am Jenny Grace,” the voice said, and Kathy took in the full sight of what could only be described as a little girl. She was a full foot or more smaller than Kathy and had the most petite features that Kathy had ever seen, like a porcelain doll with lightly darkened skin and hair so black that it almost shone blue in the light. She was clearly exhausted from her journey, but she gave Kathy the widest, beaming smile that anyone had ever given her. In fact Kathy couldn’t remember another single person in her life being as happy to see her as this young girl. A young girl though! A child! Suddenly the ‘LOL’ in Brady’s email made sense. Kathy pictured her on the other side of the world in this moment, killing herself laughing at the idea of her best friend coming face to face with this minor export.

“Suri?” Kathy whispered, double checking.

“Yes, it is me, Grace, and it is so good to see you, Auntie,” Suri said in a broken English that made up with joy for anything it lacked in accuracy and hugged Kathy around the middle in the way that she had probably been briefed to do when she left home.

Kathy was so surprised that her body froze and it would look to anyone who cared to observe them as if Suri were hugging a complete stranger or that her cuddles had turned the woman to stone. Then Kathy relaxed into it a little and patted the young girl’s back before breaking suddenly and holding her at arm’s length.

“Your face, Mrs Smith,” Suri said, reaching out to touch the bruises and Kathy moved her head away from her touch.

“It’s nothing really. Shall we go?” she asked and Suri nodded excitedly. Kathy got the feeling that there was nothing she could say or do that would dampen this young girl’s spirits.

As Suri dragged her single wheelie suitcase in the direction of the car, her head darted around in all directions, taking in the colour and atmosphere of this new country and its inhabitants. She looked far from out of place in her skinny jeans and T-shirt, but there was a wonder in her eyes that gave her away, as if she had just woken up and was seeing life for the first time. Kathy saw none of this, a few paces ahead of the young girl. She was hunting through her bag for the parking voucher so she could find the car, and devising an email in her head responding to Brady’s ‘LOL.’ She would have to edit out the swear words and insults before she sat down at the laptop to send it, but the essence would remain.
What the hell am I supposed to do with a child?!

“Mrs. Smith,” Suri eventually called when the gap between them was becoming worryingly wide and she feared being left behind. “Please wait, Mrs. Smith.”

Kathy turned back to the young girl skipping behind her, the case now looking awkward as she tried to catch up, and slowed down a little, still searching in her bag for the elusive ticket. When she found it, she turned her attention to the signs to find the corresponding car park. She had paid little attention to where she left the car on the way in. Now she was racing off again, and Suri was trailing behind but the enigmatic smile still remained as she shifted gear to keep up.

They made their way into the car-parking chamber, which was far duller and cooler than the main airport, and Suri was almost completely out of breath by the time they had marched to the car but still her spirits remained intact as Kathy pressed the button on her key and her car lights flashed.

“Oooo! A Mini!” Suri beamed. “A good little car. One of my favorites.”

This finally got Kathy’s attention and she couldn’t stop herself laughing. “You like my car?”

“I do,” smiled Suri. “It’s very good car. Like The Italian Job,” Suri said as she deposited herself in the passenger seat. “
You are only supposed to blow the bloody doors off
.”

This made Kathy laugh even harder, but she composed herself quickly and started the car. As she reversed out of the space, the Corrs began to play again, but she quickly flicked the tape out of the player and said, “So how old are you, Suri?”

“I am sixteen,” Suri answered proudly. There was still nothing but joy in the young girl’s voice.

“And where have you come from?”

“I am not supposed give many details, Mrs. Smith. I am from Malaysia. I am from small fishing village near Kuala Lumpa. I am very happy to be in your country.”

“I bet you are,” said Kathy and didn’t really understand why she couldn’t bring herself to extend any kind of warmth toward her new arrival.

“I have not been in England before. But I have dreamed it many times. Will we see Big Ben and Buckingham Palace?”

“Erm, wrong city I’m afraid, but I could drive round in circles for hours then show you a homeless person—make it feel like London.”

“Okay!”

“I was joking, Suri.”

“Oh.” Suri was quiet for a few minutes after this, perhaps finally picking up on Kathy’s vibe, but she was unstoppable once again when they were on the motorway and they passed a Volkswagen Beetle. “Ha!” she erupted. “It is Herbie.”

“Never mind that,” Kathy began and then seemed to change her mind. “Actually, how do you know about that film? It’s older than you are.”

“It is a wonderful film. I have seen many times.”

“But how do you see films.”

Suri thought for a moment then said, “With my eyes.”

“No, I meant –”

“I know. I make joke, too. I have video and go to cinema sometimes, but it is far away. I have seen Internet, too. Do you like film, Mrs. Smith?”

“It’s Kathy, and I don’t really have time for films. I have important work to complete.
We
have important work to complete, Suri. You know why you’re here, right?”

Without changing expression, Suri nodded and said, “To help you with list.”

“And what is my list?” Kathy opened both windows as they sat waiting for the traffic to creep forward. The evening was draping shadows over the cars, but it was still warm. It was an evening for beer gardens and BBQs, not sitting on the motorway in a queue that was showing little sign of movement.

“Your list is bad mans,” Suri replied, absently moving her face to the open window with her eyes closed. “I can help you get ridden of bad mans and keep children of England safe.”

So light and airy was the answer that Kathy turned to look at her new companion to find any trace of the magnitude of the task ahead of them. She was smiling into the fresh air without a care in the world.

“So you know that this is serious, Suri. We—well, you—are going to kill these men with your powers.”

“This I know, Kathy. I have been thinking about it. Like a film. We are good guys, no? We have… erm… opportunity?”

Kathy nodded.

“We have opportunity to make better.” Suri shook her head as if she couldn’t quite find the right words.

“We’ll be saving lives,” Kathy told her seriously, and Suri beamed a glowing grin at her. As if the smile was constructed of something magical, at that exact moment, the cars in front of them began to creep forward before gathering momentum and they were soon cruising along at speed. The open window now forced a gust into Suri’s face, which made her giggle uncontrollably as she moved her head in and out of the breeze. Kathy snatched glances at her ward and couldn’t find it within her to smile at the innocent fun that she was experiencing. There was no joy in what they were going to do together and she couldn’t dispense with this thought long enough to concern herself with the fact that a window breeze may be pleasurable. As long as there were paedophiles in the world there was nothing to smile about. As long as there were nine children missing, presumed dead, no one should be allowed to smile. Brixton O’Neal would never smile again, so why should she?

Chapter 12

Aisyah was eight months pregnant and enormous, but there was work to be done. There was always work to be done and Mustapha wouldn’t be able to do it without her. If they didn’t work, they wouldn’t eat that day; that was how their world worked and how would they feed their two-year-old daughter, Suri? She loved her food and didn’t mind at all that it mostly consisted of fish and rice. Their situation would improve when she grew a little and her tiny fingers could be put to use, but for now she could be nothing more than a passenger, even though she seemed delighted by the sight of the fish coming in on the nets attached to their little boat. In fact, a happier child in the world just didn’t exist. Suri could be cold, hungry, wet, and ailing and she would manage a smile. On this day she was sitting in her usual spot at the back of the narrow, long sampan, giggling to herself at the glowing patterns the world was painting on the water surface on a day that was far too hot to work, while her parents labored over the nets. The boat was a simple, sparse, bamboo affair, the construction of which, along with the equipment, had changed their lives, following years of backbreaking labor in the rice fields. They were essentially self-sufficient and when the fishing was good they could make a considerable profit or trade their bounty for other essential items. When it was not so good, as it had been for the last few weeks, they prayed for a miracle and worked ten times harder than they ever had to in the fields. But even as the punishing sun beamed down onto their task, adding weight to every manoeuvre, Aisyah and Mustapha laughed and chatted in their native Malay. By the middle of the day, however, when the sun was at its cruelest peak, Aisyah sat down suddenly, breathing heavily and holding her enormous bump. Even with the strain of the dire heat and the sudden pain, Aisyah was a beautiful, youthful woman with flowing black hair and a kind face that Mustapha had fallen in love with the moment he saw it. He had always said that Aisyah was too good for him—his queen—but he was as handsome as she was pretty, with his deep, brown eyes that made women melt to honey.

“Aisyah, what is it?”

“It is nothing, Mustapha. I just need to sit for a while. Carry on and I will be able to help again in a few minutes.”

“But you do not look at all well, my love.” Mustapha tenderly dropped his arm around his beloved wife and lowered himself beside her. Her flesh was burning against his, yet she was trembling at the same time. As he comforted her, her body contorted with pain and she gripped her belly tighter. “Is it the baby?”

Aisyah couldn’t answer for a few moments. “I don’t know. It feels different to Suri.”

They both turned to look at their tiny child, still amusing herself at the back of the boat without a care in the world.