Hindsight (27 page)

‘Sorry, we … ah, camped out,’ Ben said rather sheepishly. ‘What did it say?’

The Beetle scuttled against the kerb, the driver’s door squeaked and slammed, and the matron’s distinctively different shoes pattered a rubber-vinyl beat as she jogged to their table as nimbly as anyone whose legs were naturally the same length.

Their table rocked as she leaned against it and stooped to whisper. ‘You’re being followed.’

‘Oh, that,’ Mira said.

‘We know,’ Ben added, sounding just as relieved. ‘But how did you?’

‘Freddie warned me. Or I should say, Fredarick. He’s writing another play in Braille. Know what that means?’

Mira gulped and nodded. The last time Freddie wrote a play in Braille, he’d done it to reveal how much he knew what was going on around them, while also writing it in a way that ensured those involved would react the way he wanted.

Ben’s fist thumped the rickety table. ‘If he’s writing again, it means that someone has said something to upset him.’

Or will,
Mira thought, but she didn’t dare to say so with military ears trained on them. ‘Did he hear the going away party? Or did Petal tell him?’

‘Nobody’s been allowed anywhere near him, aside from me,’ Sanchez assured them. ‘He’s back in isolation. The less he knows about what you two get up to, the better, even if I have to confess eventually that you’re out on a few “day trips”.’

Ben laughed cynically. ‘If he’s writing about us being followed, he’s heard that already. If it’s not from you or Petal, and it’s not us, then I dare say he can hear further in —’

Stop!
Mira said with her hands.
Don’t forget who’s listening!

‘All the way out here?’ Sanchez asked. ‘Honey, he has the same distance limits as the rest of us.’

‘She means the two following us,’ Ben explained. ‘Nothing to worry about. Just our friendly neighbourhood general, making sure none of Colonel Kitching’s old associates come looking for her. You can wave, if you like. That’s them up the street.’

‘Oh?’ Sanchez made the table rock as she looked around. ‘Pretty girl … Oh, and isn’t that the young man who worked security for the two doctors?’

‘Not any more. Look, he’s shifting now.’

‘He looks pissed!’

‘You upset him?’ Mira asked. ‘Is that wise?’

‘I was just wondering the same thing,’ Sanchez said. Then a waitress arrived. ‘Is that coffee?’ she asked as Mira took her first sip.

‘Yes, and delicious!’ A glob of cream clung to her nose and she licked it off.

‘But I thought I made it clear: your system is still flushing out medications.’

‘Tastes too good to be bad.’ Mira ate the soft ball of ice cream with a spoon, then drained the rest of the glass in one go.

Alone again with Ben in his car a few minutes later, Mira noticed her hands shaking. At first, she thought it was only vibrations from the road. Then he stopped at a crossroads to give way to a noisy truck, and still both hands were trembling. Fear, she thought — but she didn’t really feel frightened. Not that much, anyway.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Ben said as if he’d noticed too. ‘I won’t let anything hurt you, not even the boy scout.’

Mira chewed on her lip, feeling more confident in Lockman’s ability to protect them both — a thought that continued to perplex her. Did it unsettle Ben too? He certainly seemed colder and brusquer to Lockman than anyone else.

‘Are you nervous?’ she asked.

‘I must admit, yeah. We could have another turncoat on our hands.’

‘He’s still listening, right? Why do you keep baiting him?’

‘Just testing our limits, Mira. You should understand that. You’re an expert at it.’

‘Well, please don’t. I’m fast approaching my limits already.’

‘I suspected as much. You’re doing that thing with your hands. And you look flushed. Do you need me to stop?’

‘Another delay? No way.’ The cool breeze through the window seemed to ease her growing queasiness as much as she could hope for, and her seatbelt served nicely in holding her upright. She didn’t dare to tell him otherwise since the nearest medics for her now were over the bridge at Serenity.

B
odies littered the purple sand. Mira noticed them all slicked with tanning oil as Ben eased into the parking lot. Young women. Nearly naked. Topless men lounged among them too, while heads of various sizes and hairstyles bobbed about in the placid waters of Moreton Bay. All of them ghosts of yesterday’s beach party.

‘Perfect,’ Ben said. ‘There’s nobody here. Just an old man walking his dog. You still look flushed,’ he added as he cut the engine. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

Mira nodded, wringing her hands. Every nerve in her body felt wound up and ready to spring. ‘I just need to stretch my legs. Josie too, probably.’

Climbing out with the joey, but keeping one hand on the invisible Camaro, Mira steadied herself and listened to the breeze, trying to catch wind of Lockman’s truck — and couldn’t. She heard only the yap of a small dog and the chink of a leash as the old man strolled past them, shuffling his own beat on the cobbled path to the beach.

From the mouth of the makeshift wallaby pouch, Mira felt the tip of an ear twitch. Such a terrifying sound a dog must make for a joey that had lost its mother to such a similar beast. Mira soothed the little marsupial with her voice, wishing she had the benefit of such long sensitive ears — all the better to keep track of Lockman, who was still nowhere to be heard.

‘Is he here?’ she asked Ben, feeling increasingly unsettled.

‘He pulled in ahead of us. Overtook us back there. Must have thought we were headed over the bridge. We’re about four parks away.’

‘Then get him, please. Call his sidekick over, too. I can’t stand it any more.’

‘It’s best if we don’t. The whole idea of covert surveillance is for them to stay out of sight.’

‘Fine, if Greppia wants me, let them get me through
him
.’

‘Mira?’ Ben sounded hurt. He tried to talk her out of it, reminding her of how far she wanted to keep herself from all things military. ‘You have to consider all the benefits of keeping them under cover!’

‘I am, Ben, and I’d much rather him getting in the way of the next bullet than you. Besides, I’ve never gone anywhere in the last ten years, without people escorting me, watching me, guarding me!’ Her head spun to think of it. ‘I can’t stand it! If they must be security, they can hang close as if they’re friends. I mean, it can’t hurt to pretend, can it?’

‘I’m here,’ Lockman said, coming over to her anyway. ‘Sorry, ma’am, if you prefer us to hang closer, we will. It’s my preference too.’

‘Are you in uniform?’ She hid her hands behind her back to hide how much she was shaking.

‘Jeans and a t-shirt actually. I was on leave, but Sei’s casual now too.’

‘Keep it …’ Mira swayed in the heat, feeling faint, ‘… that way. Call her …’

‘Ma’am, are you okay?’

Mira nodded as she slid down the side of Ben’s car.

Four hands caught her.

‘I’ve got her!’ Ben insisted, and hazily, Mira felt the two strongest hands withdraw from her.

Sei jogged over, lifted Josie’s pouch away from her and helped Ben and Lockman to prop Mira in the shade against a palm tree, with a picnic blanket rolled up to support her back and the joey’s bundle on the ground against her leg. Then many hands began to rub and hold ice packs all over her.

‘Back off,’ Ben warned. ‘I told you I can handle this!’

Lockman gripped Mira’s wrist anyway with his strong fingers. ‘Her pulse is racing,’ he said as he released her hand gently back to her lap.

‘Is it any wonder, after what she’s been through with you people?’

‘She had coffee,’ Lockman said. ‘What medication was she on?’

‘None of your business,’ Ben argued.

‘A lot,’ Mira said, weakly trying to keep their hands away from her chest and face. ‘I don’t know … Weeks ago.’

‘What precisely?’

Mira shrugged. ‘Some tablets … needles.’ To her at the time, it had seemed like a little of everything, and the staff never told her which medicines specifically. She was expected to trust them.

‘Don’t look at me!’ Ben said. ‘I never administered anything.’

‘She didn’t have a chart?’ asked Sei.

‘I was her social worker, not a nurse. I can’t remember what she was on, just a vague mix of anti-depressants, a few sedatives, painkillers, vitamins, hormone suppressants; whatever she needed from day to day.’

‘I’m on it,’ Sei said, and jogged away.

Lockman’s truck gunned to life nearby, and tyres skidded, then accelerated towards the bridge.

‘No!’ Mira complained, trying to stand. ‘I’ll be fine … in a minute.’

‘You will,’ Ben promised, ‘so long as you sit still.’

He kept a light touch on her, shifting the ice packs, but they didn’t need to weigh her down. Her strength was barely enough to sit up straighter.

‘I’m not … not … going back there!’

‘You shouldn’t need to, ma’am. Only it’s faster to fetch oxygen and anything else you need from there instead of hailing an ambulance.’

‘I should have remembered,’ Ben said, dabbing her forehead. ‘It was only an iced coffee. More cream than anything.’

‘Kick yourself later, mate. It’s all about her now.’

They stopped talking for a long moment, and Mira heard Lockman pacing. Against her leg, she felt the joey wriggle as it wormed its way out of the pouch.

‘Josie?’

‘She’s grazing,’ Lockman said. ‘Stretching her legs. Don’t worry about it.’

Mira chewed on her lip, remembering the dog and worried that it might come back before she did what she needed to do on the beach. Within minutes, she heard his truck return at high speed and brake sharply nearby, making Mira cringe, first from a shower of small stones and then from the smell of oiled leather.

She rolled her eyes and bumped her head against the trunk of the palm tree, cursing her luck. Of all the staff at Serenity, Sei had to fetch the crankiest who’d sparred with her the most.

‘Hi, Neville,’ Ben said. ‘She had coffee, sorry. I forgot, and now her heart’s racing.’

‘Rusty already? Hold still, lass,’ he replied, ‘and swallow this.’ She could hear him laying things out on the ground beside her and opening a jar.

‘No drugs!’ She blocked her mouth with one hand, and struggled feebly to stand. ‘I won’t take … anything!’

‘You took caffeine, so it’s either this or the stomach pump.’

‘No!’

‘She’s coming down herself,’ Lockman said, a short distance away. ‘Her colour is returning and she’s stopped shaking.’

‘You a medic?’ Neville asked. ‘Good, grab a handful of disposable electrodes for me and open her blouse. I need to check what her heart’s doing.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Sei said, already crouching at Mira’s side.

‘Don’t!’ Mira complained. ‘I just need to sit …’

‘You can,’ Sei assured her. ‘These are only monitor tabs to check if you really do need to swallow anything. Or not, if you choose. Nobody’s going to force you, unless it’s to save your life.’

Reluctantly, Mira lowered her guard while keeping her lips clenched. She cooperated long enough for them to attach sticky monitoring clips to her chest and fingers to confirm that her pulse, body temperature and oxygen levels were indeed easing gradually back towards normal, then she tugged at the sticky monitor tabs, which made her feel as if she was leashed to Neville Kenny.

‘Make way,’ she said, struggling to her feet — and teetered. Ben and Lockman grabbed an arm each to steady her, but she pulled away from them both. ‘I can do it!’ She fumbled to find the palm tree and steadied herself against that instead, feeling crowded, bullied and self-conscious. ‘Can’t you all just give me some space?’

Neville and Sei obliged her, but not the others.

‘She needs water,’ Neville warned. ‘Lots of it, and rest and …’

‘Down!’ Lockman shouted.

Mira heard a whiz and a thud, then two bodies rammed into her at once, driving her flat to the ground on her back. Leathery skin pressed hard against her shoulder — leaking. More whizzing and thudding splintered the palm tree. She recognised the smell of blood on her face before she noticed how warm it was, and sticky. Pushing against the heaviest body, she found a bony head, with short wiry hair — and jagged wet bone above his eye where his forehead should have been.

‘Ben!’ she screamed, fearing the worst, although she knew it wasn’t him. She could smell the final release of rum-scented breath. ‘Stay down,’ Lockman warned as he pulled the body off her.

‘Ben?’ she called again, and from somewhere far away, she thought she heard his mother scream out for him too.

‘Sei’s got him,’ Lockman whispered hoarsely beside her. Another bullet whipped overhead and splintered into the palm tree. A small piece of it struck her cheek.

‘This ain’t no bacon tree!’ Sei shouted.

‘It’s a ham-bush,’ Lockman replied. ‘Crossfire,’ he whispered to Mira. ‘Let me get you out of here.’

‘Mira?’ Ben called.

She heard Sei whisper something to him too, as another two bullets smacked into the palm tree above Mira’s head.

‘Keys!’ Lockman called.

‘Mine’s closest,’ Ben shouted, then metal rings chinked as Lockman caught them.

Hauling Mira to her feet, Lockman swept her up and ran with her, hugged against his chest, while behind them, she heard Sei open fire.

Three rounds slammed through the side door of Ben’s car, shattering glass and burying noisily into the console and seats, causing Mira to worry who Sei was shooting at, but Lockman didn’t hesitate. He set her down and hustled her into the passenger seat — no time for seatbelts — and within seconds, he was around the car and behind the wheel himself, furiously cranking the engine until it gunned to life.

‘Wait, wait!’ Mira cried. ‘We can’t leave without Ben!’ Then glass shattered again and something that felt like a brick struck the back of her head. Numbly, she reached up to explore her hair, but she felt woozy, drugged. She felt blood, and as the car jolted over a kerb, she was thrown back into her invisible seat, into nothingness.

A bucket of cold seawater splashed Ben’s head and chest, waking him aboard a yacht. With a throbbing headache and one eye swollen shut, he could make out the shape of the sails billowing above him, but it took a moment longer for him to realise he was sitting in the rear corner of the vessel with his arms tied so tightly behind his back, they’d gone numb — as had his legs, which were doubled up beneath him.

Four men loomed around him, three of them lifting him upright, while the fourth — a bald cop in uniform — eyed him maliciously, then stripped Ben of his shirt.

Ben recognised him at once as the one who’d fabricated evidence to help frame him for the robbery. ‘Douggie Moser …’ He cursed and spat at his face. ‘You’re even uglier than I remember.’

Moser grinned and patted Ben’s cheeks. ‘And you’re looking pretty for someone who spent six years in the clink. Come back for more, did you?’

Ben sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘I’d rather be there than here.’

‘Yeah, I’ll bet.’ Moser punched Ben’s shoulder, scoring a direct hit to his bullet wound and forcing a wail out of him. ‘Still don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, I notice.’

Ben tried to laugh, but a second fist to his stomach made him cough instead. Moser had spread the same rumour among the inmates — that he was a mole for the police and couldn’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut about anything he might hear behind bars, which resulted in alienation — or worse — each time the guards turned their backs.

‘Why didn’t you just kill me?’ he asked.

‘More fun this way, Benny. I owe it to you for Chloe.’

Ben shook his head tiredly. ‘Man, how many times do I have to tell you? We were just friends, okay? When she broke up with you, it had nothing to do with me.’

Moser hooked a heavier fist into Ben’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. ‘Nicest guy she’d ever met — her words exactly.’

Ben coughed, shaking his head and gasping to recover his breath. He couldn’t argue with that but it had a lot more to do with the kinds of men she normally hung out with. As kind-hearted and generous as Chloe had always been to him, despite her foul mouth, she’d been attracted to the worst kind of men for longer than he’d known her, and inadvertently dragged him into their circle.

Grabbing a fistful of Ben’s hair, Moser lifted Ben’s head and punched him square across the jaw.

‘Don’t mess me up too bad,’ Ben said, spitting up blood. ‘I won’t be so pretty for gaol.’

‘Oh, we ain’t sending you back there, mate. Greggie wants what’s in your head, and then you’re dead.’

‘Then you might as well kill me now,
mate
, ’cause there’s nothing in my head. You just knocked it out.’

‘Funny.’ Moser screwed his knuckle into Ben’s wounded shoulder, harder and sharper, until he couldn’t hold down the pain any more, and cried out. ‘Better start remembering, Benny-boy. You know how the blind bitch works, how she does what she does and knows what she knows, and Greggie wants in on the big secret, seeing as his father has already coughed up so much cash for it.’

‘Nothing to tell,’ Ben argued. ‘Even
she
doesn’t know how she does it. She just does, and even then it’s not reliable. Less and less every day.’