Blood & Dust (34 page)

This was, he realised, another option for getting into the compound, but it certainly wasn't his
first preference.

The suit he'd seen with Hunter and Mira at the chopper - he felt sure that's who
the young woman was - met them at the front door. From where Kevin slumped, drunk-limp between two
SWAT gorillas in body armour and sub-machineguns strapped across their chests, he could make out a
bullet-proof vest, hair pulled back in a ponytail, tight lips that'd probably make her look pretty
if she smiled. Red eyes.

Mira, her back to Kevin, Hunter next to her, called the ponytail Felicity when she asked if
there'd been any sight of the Night Riders, and Felicity said no, there hadn't, and the person who'd
hared off from the Commodore remained on the run.

Go, Kala! If he could have flipped these bastards the bird, he would've, but he'd have to be
content with the warm inner glow. It made a nice adjunct to the ripping pain in his chest that,
instead of sending him into staked-out bliss, was keeping him infuriatingly awake.

Mira sounded a touch grumpy when she said, 'Get into town, find out if anyone's reported the
noise, make sure the cop isn't concerned.'

'What will I tell him?'

'Tell him I lost an earring and everyone's been looking for it,' Mira snapped, and Kevin smiled
on the inside.

'Pig shooting?' Hunter suggested.

'And get rid of the grease monkey's car.'

That dashed Kevin's amusement. The poor bloody Commodore. He'd done it up himself. Just a bit of
body damage, he reckoned. Shocks, front axle maybe; she was far from written off.

The goons hefted him, changing their grip after the delay, and carted him inside as Mira led the
way. He didn't see much more than the legs of the guys carrying him and the timber floor before he
was dumped on something soft. A piano melody died away, and a woman said, 'take it out', and then
Nigel was looking at him, blocking his view of the ceiling rose and the modest brass chandelier
hanging from its centre. Good ol' Nigel, looking like a fish out of water in his understated penguin
suit. He pulled on the stake in Kevin's chest with a set of pliers. Really tugged. Kevin lifted as
the stake dragged him up, then finally came free. He gasped and fell back, swallowed the urge to
vomit, then looked around at the place he'd seen only in his peripheral vision. He was on a sofa,
one hand and foot dangling on the floor, almost touching a massive rug in nondescript emerald and
cream. Boot prints - someone hadn't wiped their feet. He sat up and coughed, using the action to
hide his search for a way out. Coffee table. Elegant chairs. A fireplace, photographs lining its
mantel. A stake there, wooden and black-tipped.

Some places, only the natural stuff can go, eh

He grimaced in recognition - Taipan's stake. The one his sister had used to capture him, before
the Hunters had arrived and replaced it with something more elegant.

The music resumed, something slow that made him think of mourners leaving a cemetery in the rain.
The piano sat near a window draped in lace, with heavier drapes pulled back to reveal a verandah and
the sterile glare of the lights lining the outer fence. Seated at the piano, fingers caressing the
keys, was a teenage girl - Willa. Taipan's love flowed through him unbidden, so powerful it made him
groan. Beside her stood a colonial matron in white - skirt to her ankles, long-sleeved blouse, hair
in a bun. No makeup. Jasmine Turner, in the flesh.

Taipan's emotions and experiences rushed over him, tumbling him like a leaf in a river. Much of
Taipan's life had faded from Kevin's veins, but the greatest love and the greatest hate remained.
They sat, side by side, playing - Beethoven?
Someone
in Kevin's blood knew the music. Maybe
it was even him.

'Welcome,' Jasmine said, her clipped English accent strangely familiar thanks to Taipan's
lifestream - no doubt about the source of that information. 'Drink?'

He followed her gesture and saw for the first time Mira sitting on the other side of the room,
holding a glass of red
- blood, if his nose was telling him the truth - before her as though she was studying its contents
against the light. Kevin turned to see who was behind him - Hunter, at the door, and Nigel,
carrying a silver tray with the blood-smeared spike and a crystal carafe. Nigel filled a glass
from the carafe and held it out to him.

'Before it's all gone,' Jasmine urged through a false smile as she wrenched her gaze from Mira
back to him.

Kevin sat up, took the drink, sipped. A-grade cow.
Beggars can't be choosers
, he thought,
and the throb in his chest agreed. Hunger scraped at his insides, teased saliva at the whiff of the
drink.

'Where's my mother?' he asked.

'Where's my Taipan?' Mira answered without looking at him. She really was beautiful, he thought,
but like a car - no amount of trim could disguise the fact that it was still a machine, cold and
hard and uncaring. The piano missed a note, almost stopped, but Jasmine motioned for the girl to
continue, and she did, ever so softly.

'Taipan isn't coming,' Kevin told them.

'That wasn't our deal,' Mira said.

'I didn't agree to any deal.'

She looked at him, then. 'Foolish you.'

Hunter took the unfinished drink from his hand.

'I am sorry, young man,' Jasmine said. 'It's not personal, I assure you, but I really cannot
tolerate another home invasion. Our Christopher is quite out of control and must be made to see
reason, before he does someone an injury.' Jasmine's gaze darted to the ugly stake on the mantel,
then back to him. 'I had hoped you might be more forthcoming about his location.'

He stayed silent.

'I was going to talk with you further about the matter, but the lush is most insistent she gets
first bite of this particular cherry. Perhaps we will get to have a chat before you go.' She patted
Willa's shoulders, an action both affectionate and possessive. Willa looked at Kevin with something
like an apology.

Mira sneered and put her glass down.

Hunter motioned Kevin to stand. 'You gonna behave or do I have to ice you?'

Kevin held out his hands. He was totally outgunned. The best he could do was wait and hope. Find
out where his mother was being kept and then…

Hunter grabbed one arm, Nigel the other, and they walked him from the room.

'Introductions are over,' Hunter said. 'Now it's down to business, I'm afraid.'

Behind them, the music wound down to end on two singular notes, like the sound of a church bell
ringing. He'd got it wrong, Kevin realised - the mourners hadn't been leaving the funeral, but
arriving.

They took him through the house to the rear verandah and outside, and for a moment he thought
about breaking loose, running, but that wasn't an option. Even if he could take the two
myxos
, he still had to free his mother and get out of the compound. No, they wouldn't have
allowed him out here if they thought he could get away.

They walked across the patchy lawn. They were on the eastern side of the house. To the south was
the machinery shed he'd seen from the windmill, but now he could see inside
- Nigel's panel van, Kala's Monaro, a farm four-wheel-drive, a tractor. The chopper sat on its
landing pad between the house and the shed.

They stopped at a square building, some kind of tool shed or storage room made from thick wooden
planks. Iron bars covered the window facing them; the door was of solid timber bound in rusted iron.

'Here you go - the guest quarters.' Hunter opened the door. 'Bed's been made.'

An earth floor gave Kevin some hope for a disappearing act, if he could only follow Taipan's
mystical lead, but regardless of whether he was locked in or locked under, the fact was he'd still
be locked. Still, it was something, and he'd grasp at whatever straws he could. He squinted as his
eyes adjusted. Moonlight slanted in through a barred window, striping the room with parallel
shadows. A sturdy single bed with bare mattress, a wooden chair, and a tall table the kind you might
put a telephone on.

'Strip, then lie down,' Hunter ordered, and now Kevin saw the manacles hanging at each leg of the
bed.

'I'd rather stand.'

'Take off your clothes, or I'll cut them off.'

Kevin stripped, keeping his back to the men.

'Throw these rags outside,' Hunter told Nigel, then pointed Kevin at the bed. 'Make yourself
comfortable.'

Kevin laid down, biting back bitter tears as Hunter locked the cold metal around his wrists and
ankles.

'Could use some curtains,' Kevin said. 'Some pictures, maybe.'

Hunter, at the door, shook his head, then gestured to one window. 'Plenty of natural light, saves
on electricity. Sun comes up through that one.' He checked his watch. 'About nine hours from now,
give or take.' And then, softer, almost gentle, 'You might want to consider telling Mira what she
wants to know before then.'

'One thing before you get your barbecue fork,' Kevin said.

'What's that?'

'At the servo, with my old man. What happened?'

'Huh?'

'Did you kill him?'

'Well, I can't really answer that, sport. I came in and your old man was helping Taipan to do a
runner. There was a scuffle, the gun went off. Your old man went down and Taipan clobbered me a
beauty and bolted. Then the fire came and I had to make a choice - you, him or Dave. I chose Dave.'

'I haven't seen him here.'

'He didn't make it.'

Kevin nodded. He was, perversely, almost sorry for Hunter. All that effort and his mate had died
anyway. Another run on the losers' scoreboard.

Hunter paused at the door, waiting for Nigel. 'You coming?'

'I'll keep an eye on him till the main event.'

'Suit yourself.' He handed the surfie the keys and went out. 'I'm going for a smoke.'

Nigel stood close enough for Kevin to see him without lifting his head.

'So what happens now?' Kevin asked.

'One of three things, I'd think. One, they'll torture your mum. Second, they'll torture you. Or
third, they'll do both.'

'How about four: you let me go? I take my mum and we never see each other again.'

Nigel dangled the keys. 'There's a fifth option, but.'

'I'm listening.'

'You tell me where the Night Riders are, them and their boss lady.'

'Why would I do that?'

'Because protecting them is a waste of time. Taipan is just using you, same as he used me.
They'll just chew you up and spit you out. I saw it coming, I got out. You should do the same.'

'Join up with Mira's mob?'

'Could do a lot worse.'

'How do you figure that?'

'I'm going back to the coast. Gonna go surfing again. VS is letting me do that. One more good
trip before I give up the sun for good.'

'Aren't you afraid of that wolfbite?' Kevin asked. 'Sounds pretty nasty.'

'So long as I can still hang five, it doesn't worry me.' He rubbed his face, as though feeling
the pattern of redness there; Mira had been putting him to use outdoors, it seemed. 'A bit of ache
and pain. It goes away soon enough, and it'll be worth it. Can't wait to hit the water.' He gave
Kevin a wink. 'And the women. Can't wait to hit them, either. Nothing like a good fireside shag at
the end of a day in the water. I love a woman in a bikini, don't you?'

Meg, white bikini against her brown skin, nipples pushing darkly through the
saturated cloth, dew dotting her stomach, the shape of her through the knickers and his fierce,
sudden erection. The taste of muddy water on her lips, the lumpy earth of the creek bank pushing
through the towel, the sun blazing on his shoulder blades, then blinding him as they flip and she
mounts him, the loose top flapping around her wobbling breasts as she rides him with her eyes shut
and mouth open; and afterward, days after, over bacon and eggs in the café, she says with a
cheeky smile, 'I had to throw those mud-stained togs out; I just couldn't get them back to white;
never again, black from now on'.

I wonder what Di would've thought, seeing you here with her.

Nigel hadn't noticed his lapse, was still waxing lyrical. Some kind of confessional
with the doomed man or something, just a chance to explain why he was a gutless cur, but that was
really all the explanation Kevin needed.

'I was doing all right, getting up the ranks, my boss was a good sort, gave me plenty of time off
to compete and I had time in the morning to catch some waves before clocking on. I was like you, a
grease monkey, but it was all luxury stuff where we were, dude, the Surfers Paradise chardonnay set,
you know what I mean? The "beautiful people", as Aussie Crawl would say. You probably
never heard of them, eh? Old school, now. Doesn't even get played on the radio out here; it's all
Slim Dusty and that boot-scootin' crap, right? I hate this backwater, man.'

Wanker, Kevin thought. Everyone knew Aussie Crawl, even if it was only
Reckless
; even if
they couldn't understand the words. Why hadn't Hunter taken Nigel with him?

He was still talking. 'Up the coast, just chillin', this little beach where no-one goes, and
there they are. You can't blame me, can you? I mean, that Penny's a right bitch but she's a hot
little sort, and Kala, well, that half-caste skin…'

Kevin runs from the school bus into the garage because Dad's working on a vintage
Chevy for the man up the road who has an old-time museum with a mail truck and a fire engine and a
whole shop of bottles, all different shapes, white and green and even purple, but the Chevy, she's a
real beaut, and he tells Dad as he's passing him ratchets about the new kid in class, from down
south, and how a kid said he was a half-caste, and his father appears out of the Chevy's innards
with a look that freezes the smile on Kevin's face, and says, 'We don't use that term, it's
derogatory', and Kevin asks, 'What's doggatory mean?', and his father says, 'It's what you wish
people wouldn't say to you if you was them', and Kevin says, 'Well, what is he then?', and his
father says, 'He's a young fella at a new school who'd probably like a friend'