Ecstasy Lake (13 page)

19

Next morning I walked into Tasso's office, closed the door and went to switch on Goldsworthy's jammer, but it was already on.

‘What's up? You look serious.' Tasso was behind his desk, writing something longhand on a cheap notepad. He put his pen down.

‘I want to see it,' I said.

‘See what?'

‘The honeyhole.'

Tasso grinned. ‘I think we need another code word. My mind always wanders when you say honeyhole.'

‘Do we even need a code word now? Everyone seems to know about it.'

‘You're probably right.'

‘Why don't we just call it Ecstasy Lake? Like Hiskey wanted.'

‘Sure.'

‘I want to go up there.'

‘Why?'

‘So I can do this application properly. I just want to see what it is I'm writing about. I need to see the site.'

‘I'll arrange it.'

‘Good.'

‘We'll go tomorrow.'

‘Alright.'

Tasso called Fern and asked her to book us a plane and to phone ahead to Parakilla.

‘There's only one hotel,' he said to me. ‘When I went up there with Hiskey I spent more money in one night than they'd seen in a year. For entertainment we watched the dust blow down the main street. There were sheets of iron flapping in the wind and nobody there to give a damn. Things aren't great in Parakilla.'

‘It's on the cusp of a mining boom, though.'

Tasso laughed. ‘You ought to be a politician, Steve.'

‘So goldmining hasn't revived the place?'

He shook his head. ‘No. Challenger's a fair-sized mine, but it's too far away. The workers just fly in from Adelaide or Sydney or Perth and fly out when they've done their roster. They don't drive to Parakilla. Why would they? Anyway, you'll see for yourself.'

I told him about my encounter with Sonia the previous evening.

‘She's a piece of work,' said Tasso. ‘And you were right.'

‘About?'

‘Telling her I'd tell her to go to hell. I will never do a deal with her.'

‘She could be dangerous.'

‘Do you think I'm scared of her?'

‘No.'

‘Do you think she's smarter than me?'

‘No. She might be more cunning, though.'

Tasso had been scrutinising my face as we talked.

‘You okay?'

‘Sure.'

‘You seem pensive.'

‘No, I'm fine.' I made an effort to de-pensify my face.

‘You need to get laid.'

‘Getting laid is not the answer to every problem.'

‘Isn't it?' To Tasso this seemed a radical idea. ‘Maybe it doesn't solve every problem, but at least it takes your mind off them. It releases tension. I find if I go more than a week without a screw I get irritable.'

‘I think there's a medical term for that. Irritable dick syndrome. IDS.'

‘How long since you had a good screw, Steve? Let's go hunting tonight. Fern's staying at her parents' place for a couple of nights. I need to get laid, too.'

I looked at the jammer. ‘Thank god we've got that thing. You might be in trouble, otherwise.'

Tasso laughed for a third time. He didn't seem irritable. ‘The thought had occurred to me. Maybe she helped herself to Goldsworthy's bag of goodies the other day. I'd better watch myself.'

Late in the afternoon my cell phone rang. It was Melody.

‘Are you angry with me?'

‘Not really.'

‘You know I had to be like that at Harlin's place. He might have killed you.'

‘I can take care of myself.'

‘No you can't.'

‘What do you want, Melody?'

‘Meet me.'

‘Alright.'

‘Oh, that was easy.' She giggled. ‘Much easier than I thought it would be.'

‘Where?'

‘Same place. Eight o'clock.'

‘Alright.'

‘And cheer up. Don't be gloomy.'

‘I'm not gloomy, just irritable.' IDS, I thought to myself when I hung up. I had it. I called Tasso to tell him I was standing him up. He didn't mind; he could hunt just as well, or better, without me. We arranged to meet at his hotel at five the next morning, and Bert would drive us to Parafield Airport.

The Mexican restaurant was less than half full. I chose a booth as far as possible from other diners and waited. The little ordering flag was at half-mast. I picked out a pencil from the box and started filling in an order for two margaritas. She arrived in jeans with her black hair tied up and her skin pale. As soon as our eyes met I knew I was in trouble because I wanted her tonight and there would be no more inhibitions. I shuffled out of the booth and kissed her cheek.

‘Are you okay?'

‘Yes.' I held her by the shoulders for a moment.

‘Let's sit down.'

‘Alright.' We sat in the booth.

‘You do understand why I was like that at Harlin's, don't you?'

‘Sure.'

‘I didn't like it. But he had already hit you. It could have got worse. Your poor nose. Does it hurt?'

‘Do you think he believed you?'

‘I think Harlin is the most suspicious, jealous guy in the world. I don't think he believes anything I say.'

‘But he's obsessed by you.'

‘No, I don't think so. Not obsessed. He just wants to own me. He doesn't love me.'

I finished the order and raised the flag. The waitress was in no great hurry tonight.

‘You seem different,' she said. ‘Something's changed.'

‘Maybe.' There was a moment of silence. I think we both knew what had changed and were thinking about what it meant. We stared into each other's eyes. Then hers were diverted; they looked past me and widened.

‘Oh, Jesus,' she said.

I looked behind me. Harlin was striding towards our booth. Behind him came Numbat and Tiny. I tried to stand, but Tiny shoved me back.

‘You fucken slut.' Harlin was looking only at Melody. ‘You fucken slut whore bitch cunt.' He hit her, an open-handed slap that made a sound like a rifle shot across a canyon. He grabbed her by her tied-up hair. It became untied. He yanked her out of the booth and dragged her by the hair toward the door. She was screaming, trying to keep her feet. She fell, but he kept dragging her. I tried again to stand, but Tiny punched me in the side of the head. Harlin dragged Melody outside, smashing her against the doorframe as he did.

‘He warned you,' Tiny said to me. ‘You stupid dick.'

I was still holding the pencil I'd used to write out the drinks order. Tiny was standing with his leg thrust towards me like a fighter. He was snarling when he should have been thinking. His hit had knocked me sideways and I sat up slowly. I straightened my arm and swung it hard, driving the pencil point-first through Tiny's jeans into the fleshy inner part of his thigh. It went in deep. I thought I felt it hit bone and I jerked it down, snapping the end of it. Tiny screamed. It wasn't a tiny scream. His hand went to his thigh, but the pencil had disappeared into the flesh. He staggered away. Numbat didn't know what had happened, and he stared at Tiny just a little too long. I picked up the flag, stood, and smashed the base of the stand into the side of Numbat's head as it turned my way. The base was only plastic but it was solid enough and it connected hard with his temple. His eyes rolled back, and he fell. Tiny was still screaming, but Numbat was out cold. By the time I reached the car park, Harlin and Melody were gone.

20

I supposed Harlin would take her to his fortress in Globe Derby Park. There were only a few cars in the restaurant car park. One of them was a black dual-cab utility, the same sort I'd seen in Harlin's compound. Maybe it was the same one. I went back to the restaurant. Tiny was lying on the floor, whimpering, and Numbat was still out. The diners were sitting in stunned silence, except for a sobbing child. The manager stepped towards me, looking sick. He wore overly large spectacles.

‘Call an ambulance,' I said. I gestured towards Numbat and Tiny. ‘They need help. And call the cops, too, if you like.'

‘It was self-defence. I saw it.'

‘You saw the guy drag the girl out?'

He pushed up his spectacles. ‘Everyone saw it. By the hair. It's the sort of thing you notice.'

‘Tell the cops. Tell them the guy with the pencil in his leg hit me first.'

‘I will. It's true.' I ran my hands through the pockets of Numbat's jacket and found his keys. ‘Where are you going?' said the manager. ‘Shouldn't you wait for the cops?'

‘I'm going to get the girl.'

I glanced at Tiny, still on the floor. He had pulled out his phone and was trying to dial. I stomped on his hand, smashing the phone. I nodded to the manager as I left; his spectacles looked surprised.

The night was dark. The ute started with a roar. I was about to leave the car park when another thought struck me. I searched the cabin and found what I wanted under the driver's seat. I didn't know much about handguns and had never fired one, but I liked the feel of this one. It sat nicely in my hand. It was black, and that was about as much as I knew about it. I pushed a button and the magazine fell out. I picked it up and looked at it. It was heavy, which I imagined meant it was loaded. After a couple of tries I got it back into the gun. There was another button, but I couldn't tell its purpose. I flicked it a few times and nothing happened. I put the gun back under the seat and drove off.

It was a thirty-five minute drive to Globe Derby Park, which gave me time to come up with a basic and probably very bad plan. There was no way of knowing how many men would be in Harlin's compound. The place was big enough for a dozen or so to live there, but most of the gang probably had places of their own. Maybe only Harlin would be there, and maybe he wouldn't be there at all. I thought about the big fence and the sliding metal gate. Close to Globe Derby Park I pulled over and searched the cabin again. I found a remote-control device in the cup holder and thought it might do the trick. I took the gun out and put it on the seat beside me.

Fifty metres from the compound I pointed the remote at the gate and pushed the button and the gate started to slide open. There was no movement beyond it. Several outside lights were on, and two windows were lit from within. I drove into the compound; no one stopped me and no one called out. Harlin's Mercedes was parked in front of the house, and there were two bikes. I did a U-turn so the ute was facing the gate. One of the dogs put his front paws onto the sill of the car door and seemed surprised I wasn't Numbat. He barked at me. I reversed the ute into the French windows of Harlin's office, and the frame and glass gave way with a smash and a scrunch. I drove forward again and got out of the car, taking the gun with me. The night air was clammy with the smell of horseshit. Both dogs were barking now and wagging their tails, and someone yelled from behind the house. I walked into the house through the broken window. The taillights of the ute were still on, and the room was red in their glow.

The hallway beyond was dim. I still hadn't seen anyone. To the left was the front door and to the right, down the hallway, was the poolroom, where Harlin and Melody had been lounging when I had visited the previous day. Straight ahead was a closed door. I opened it and stepped back and to the side. Nothing happened. I stepped into the room, closed the door and switched on the light. It was a bedroom, with a neatly made queen-sized bed. There was a door at the far end, probably to the en suite bathroom. I switched off the light and opened the door to the hallway.

I almost collided with Harlin. He was unarmed, bare-foot and bare-chested, and I smashed his head with the butt of the gun. He hit the floor and didn't move. Just another guy I'd knocked out tonight. I heard voices from inside Harlin's study. There were at least two men, I thought, and no doubt they were wondering why Numbat's ute had been backed through the French windows.

‘Numbat, where the fuck are you?' one of them called. He had a voice like an orc out of
Lord of the Rings
.

‘Numbat, you high?' called the other.

I grabbed Harlin under the arms and dragged him into the empty bedroom, closing the door behind me. There were footsteps and more yelling.

‘Numbat, you're a fucken idiot,' said the orc. He was just outside the door. I held the gun ready, although I wasn't sure what I would do with it if the door opened. I didn't even know if it would fire if I pulled the trigger. The footsteps receded—down the hallway, I guessed—and then came back.

‘The fucker must have passed out somewhere,' said the other one, who was less orc, more goblin.

‘If Harlin's not worried, I'm not worried,' said the orc. ‘He'll have Numbat's arse in the morning, though, silly fucker.' They both laughed, and the footsteps faded again. Perhaps they had returned to wherever they'd come from, somewhere out the back of the house or Middle Earth. I waited a couple of minutes and switched on the light. Harlin hadn't stirred. I had hit him above the temple and a big lump was growing on the side of his head. His pulse was strong.

I found Melody in a large bedroom out the back. She was lying on the bed, her jeans still on and her shirt unbuttoned. She was wearing a black bra and looked sleepy. A shaded lamp in a corner was the only light.

‘Steve?'

‘Are you alright?'

‘What are you doing here?'

‘Rescuing you.'

‘That's nice.' She was speaking slowly.

‘Are you on something?'

‘Where's Harlin?'

‘We have to go. Is there a back door?'

‘Of course there is, silly. Where's Harlin?'

‘I hit him.'

‘Hard?'

‘Fairly hard.' She was sitting up now. I reached out and buttoned her shirt. There were marks on her chest and bruising on her face. She was smiling, but it was a crooked, dopey smile. I took her hand. ‘We need to leave.'

I led her out the way I had come, through the shattered French windows. She wasn't steady on her feet, and she was holding her side. Soon the two dogs had joined us. They weren't barking anymore. Melody put an arm around my neck.

‘Can we bring Chad and Kane?' she whispered.

‘Who?'

‘My cute little doggies.'

‘No, we can't bring Chad and Kane. And they're not cute.'

She didn't want to move. ‘We'll get them next time,' I said. ‘Now we have to go.' I put her into Numbat's ute on the passenger side, with only a little help from her, and clipped her seatbelt around her. I pushed the remote to open the gate and climbed in on the driver's side. Then I had a thought. I found the ute's tyre lever and ducked back into the house. It took only a few moments to do what I wanted to do. By the time I got back to the ute, the gate was wide open. I started the engine and we drove out.

No one followed us, but I zigzagged through Mawson Lakes anyway. Melody had fallen asleep, her head slumped forward. I pulled over and tried to make her more comfortable by leaning her against the window. I sat for a while and thought about what to do next. In the end I called Bert and told him what had happened.

We met on a dirt road near Dry Creek. He was driving a nondescript Holden I'd never seen before, and I guessed he kept it handy for dirty jobs. He was wearing dark overalls, ditto.

‘How bad is she?'

‘I'm not sure. I think she took something. She's bruised.' Bert scanned the road. There was a streetlight about fifty metres away, casting a gloomy light.

‘Put her in my car.'

We manhandled Melody out of the ute and onto the back seat of Bert's car. Bert fastened her seatbelt for her and grabbed a plastic bottle of water from the front seat.

‘See if you can get some of this into her.'

I roused her enough for her to open her mouth; most of the water dribbled down her chin, but she took a couple of little swallows. Bert opened the car boot and took out a fuel can and a knife.

‘Give me the keys to the ute.' He was putting on a pair of gloves. I gave him the keys. ‘Get in the car. Drive down the road and wait.'

I produced Numbat's pistol from the floor of the car. ‘What should I do with this?'

‘
Jesus
, give it to me before you shoot your foot off, or mine. I can tell from the way you're handling it you've got no idea.' He took the gun and inspected it. He released the magazine and put it in his pocket. Then he did something with the top part and a cartridge jumped out, which he caught and put in his pocket with the magazine. ‘She was ready to fire. Jesus.' He grabbed a cloth from the car boot and used it to wipe the gun.

I drove the car down the road a little and watched Bert at work. He opened the driver's door of the ute and put the gun on the floor. He spent half a minute or so with his knife; it looked as if he was cutting the upholstery. He did the same on the passenger side. Then he emptied most of the contents of the can into the cabin and, opening the hood, the rest of it onto the engine. He used the empty can to smash the passenger window and walked to the driver's side and smashed that window as well. He wiped the can with his cloth and put it in the cabin. Then he pulled a small object from his pocket, did something to it, and tossed it into the cabin. He strolled back to the car.

‘What was that?'

‘An incendiary. It takes a moment. Let's see what happens.' For a few seconds, nothing. Then there was a sudden glow in the cabin, a flash, and the car was in flames.

‘That's the moment when the arsonists orgasm,' said Bert. He dug around in the pocket of his overalls and pulled out the single round he had taken from the gun. He loaded it into the magazine.

‘I might hold onto this,' he said, hefting the magazine. He took off his overalls, revealing a dark T-shirt and jeans, and rolled them into a bundle that he put into the car boot. As we drove I told him in more detail what had happened.

‘You should have called me earlier,' he said. ‘You had almost no chance of pulling off that stunt on your own. It was stupid, quite frankly.'

‘I was angry.'

‘Fine.'

‘And I had to act quick or she could have got hurt more. She could have been raped.'

‘Yeah. Well, it was a brave thing to do.'

‘Thank you.'

‘And stupid.'

It was garbage night in Para Vista, and outside each house were two wheelie bins with different-coloured lids, one for general waste and the other for recyclables. Bert stopped the car.

‘Get her phone, if she has one.'

I found her phone in the front pocket of her jeans and gave it to him. He got out of the car, wiped the phone with his cloth, removed the SIM card and put the phone on the pavement and stomped on it several times. He did the same to the SIM card. He picked up the pieces and put them in the nearest general waste bin. He opened the car boot and took out his rolled-up overalls, which he also put in the bin with his gloves.

‘They might have been using her phone to bug her, or track her,' he said.

We drove on. ‘Where are we going?' I said.

‘She needs a doctor. I know one. Two, in fact.'

The doctors lived in a large house on the edge of the badlands, in Windsor Gardens. Bert had phoned ahead. When we arrived, one of the three garage doors was open and we drove in alongside an ancient Commodore. The door rolled down behind us. We were greeted by an elderly man with half-glasses, a red face and white hair. He was holding the garage remote.

‘This is Steve,' said Bert. ‘Steve, this is Paul. Paul's a quack.'

I shook the old guy's hand. He put the remote in its holster on the wall.

‘Let's have a look at her,' he said. He opened the back door of the car, gently, to prevent her from falling out. He lifted both her eyelids and looked at her eyes using a pen torch, and he felt her pulse. He noticed the bruising on her neck and followed it down, unbuttoning her shirt. He probed some of the bruised flesh and rebuttoned her shirt. Then he straightened and looked me up and down. ‘You strong enough to carry her inside?'

‘I think so.'

‘Be gentle. She may have broken ribs.'

I lifted Melody in my arms and followed Paul into the house. He led me down a wide hallway and we stopped outside a door.

‘Put her in there,' he said. ‘I'll be in soon.'

The room would once have been a bedroom but now it was fitted out like a doctor's consultation room, with an eye chart, scales and an examination table. There was a contraption on wheels that might have been an X-ray machine. I put Melody on the examination table; she was still comatose. An elderly woman came into the room. She bore a close resemblance to Paul, red-faced and white-haired. She even wore the same kind of half glasses. I must have looked puzzled.

‘I'm Paul's twin sister,' she said. ‘Christine. You may call me Chris.'

‘You also a quack?' She was taking Melody's blood pressure.

‘Yes. We're both doctors. Retired now, but we still do private work for special friends, like Tasso and Bert. And now I want to examine the patient. You may wait outside.'

‘I think I'll stay.'

She looked up sharply. ‘That won't do. I will have to undress her.'

I pointed to a corner of the room, diagonally across from the examination table. ‘I'll sit there. I won't be able to see much. She's in my care and she's unconscious. I'm staying.'