Turtle Island (44 page)

Georgina looked up. ‘I think I need some help down
here.’

‘My son has already called the police.’ Jo-Lynn said with
pride before emotion overwhelmed her. Jo-Lynn pulled away from the
opening and began to cry. At first silently, then with
rage.

Georgina began to move back down the tunnel. She knew that
Jo-Lynn needed time by herself with her son. Jo-Lynn’s sobs echoed
down the tunnel. She cradled Ray, kissing him, making his face wet
with her tears, and slowly the rage she felt turned to joy. Joy
like she had never experienced before, not even when he was born,
and the tears and sobs finally merged into a laugh of relief. Ray
sat on his mother’s lap, confused, tired and in a state of
shock.

Prentice Fortune sat propped against the wall of the sewer;
the fluorescent tube above flickered on and off waiting to expire.
Georgina looked up at the open hatch and called.
‘Jo-Lynn?’

Jo-Lynn Montoya crawled to the edge of the hatch.

‘Did you find Rick?’

‘He’s up here with me…’ She could see Prentice Fortune propped
against the wall. ‘Is he dead?’

Georgina took a deep breath and shrugged.
‘Hopefully.’

Jo-Lynn’s turned, searching for her son and was chilled to the
bone when she heard the malevolent rasp of her husband’s
voice.

‘Lose something?’ Rick towered over Jo-Lynn holding their
child.

Cold abhorrent fear consumed every ounce of Jo-Lynn’s
body.

Rick swayed unsteadily in front of her, clasping Ray to his
body. ‘I can’t let you leave, not knowing what you know now.’ His
arm held Ray securely.

‘What…what are you doing? Surely we’ve been through
enough.’

‘I can’t let you go.’ Rick repeated.

‘Don’t be stupid Rick, everyone knows. The police are on the
way. It’s over, Rick. Everything’s over.’

‘No.’ Rick threw Ray as though he was a rag doll, not even
stopping to watch as his son bounced hard against the wall. The boy
collapsed into it with a sickening thud and slid down to the floor
unconscious. The pain and confusion inside Rick matched the rank
picture of evil in his eyes. Rick lunged at Jo-Lynn. She took a
step back and fell through the open hatch.

‘NO!’ She screamed as the ground disappeared from under her
feet and suddenly she was falling through the air uncertain of if
her son was alive and if she would live through the
fall.

Georgina heard the cry echo through the tunnel, followed by
the sight of Jo-Lynn falling through the air. She hit the water
hard.

‘Jesus.’ Georgina ran to Jo-Lynn, wading through the water and
pulled her to the side. She rolled Jo-Lynn over so she was face
up.

Jo-Lynn was still conscious but barely. Behind her came the
sound of another person entering the water. A heavier much
splash.

Georgina realised that it was detective Rick Montoya, though
the man that hauled himself upright from the water bared no
resemblance to the man she once knew. She also was aware that she
was no match for him when dragging a half conscious woman through
knee-deep effluent. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go.’

‘The knife…get the knife.’ Jo-Lynn tried to stand and though
half conscious was still smart enough to remember the knife she
plunged into Prentice Fortune. She pointed to the knife, now deeply
embedded in Fortune’s neck. Georgina swam the short width of the
outlet and with all of her strength yanked the knife from Fortune.
Jo-Lynn was already moving as fast as she could up the sewer
outlet. Fortune rolled forward face down into the water, his body
becoming engulfed in a sea of waste. Georgina moved fast to catch
up. She had no compulsion about Fortune. Lights above flicked on
and off as they moved down the tunnel. Georgina soon caught up with
Jo-Lynn, both of them knowing and hearing the manic demented
screams of the detective pursing them.

‘We’ve got to keep on moving. We’ll be out of here soon.’
Georgina didn’t want to look behind, she could hear the sound of
water splashing and knew that Montoya was on his feet and closing
the gap between them. Jo-Lynn stumbled, Georgina was unsure if she
had passed out or whether her legs just gave way, but suddenly
Jo-Lynn was a dead weight and dragging them both down to the
surface of the water. The demented rage f Rick Montoya echoed down
the tunnel. The chill from his angler like a cold breath on the
back of Georgina’s neck. He was closing fast and she was stumbling
along the passage, her feet trying desperately to find purchase in
the watery environment. Georgina dragged Jo-Lynn as best as she
could but knew that if either of them was to survive she would have
to let her fall to the water. Georgina could feel the cold blast of
night air rushing to greet them. The exit from the sewer tunnels
was only yards away. The sound of water being displaced by the
rushing angry sound of Montoya approaching made her briefly look
over her shoulder, an act she instantly regretted. The fury of the
man was made all the more evident by a loud voracious scream.
Georgina put her arm around Jo-Lynn and dragged her onwards.
‘C’MON’ She shouted in Jo-Lynn’s ear. The sound of Montoya
approaching grew louder. Georgina imagined that she could feel his
very presence upon her and was too paralysed to turn this time for
facing the truth. She had no gun, just the knife, which she
clutched onto desperately. Georgina heard the familiar sound of a
gun being cocked, ready to fire. Paralysis once more slowing her
movement as she imagined Rick Montoya steadying himself to aim and
fire a bullet directly into her. The sound of the gun engaging in
the tunnel clear and succinct over the rushing water and ensuing
pandemonium. Georgina’s legs began to betray her, slowing down,
becoming molten lead. The bullet exploded through the tunnel like
an express train roaring past her head. Instinctively she grabbed
Jo-Lynn and dived head first into the water. She swam forward, not
knowing or seeing her destination. The muted sound of gunfire rang
out again. She swam forward as far as she could until her lungs
gave out. Finally gasping for air, she surfaced, dragging Jo-Lynn
with her. They were at the entrance to the flood
chamber.

‘Stand to the side.’ The order was bellowed to Georgina and
Jo-Lynn from the bank. Confused, Georgina acted on instinct and did
as directed. They pushed themselves as hard as they could to the
riverbank.

Leroy LaPortiere tried to stabilise himself. He raised his
pistol again and fired off a third round. He watched the projectile
thunder down the tunnel, followed by another, then another and
another. Leroy kept on firing until the clip was empty, until there
was no reason or need to fire anymore. Nothing came out of the
tunnel but silence, then eventually, the floating body of Rick
Montoya. The already ravaged face was pulped by three direct hits,
leaving impacted craters where his features used to be. There was
no doubt that detective Rick Montoya was dead, but Leroy gingerly
entered the water, reloaded a clip and fired another three rounds
into the head of Rick Montoya.

Leroy pulled Jo-Lynn Montoya out of the water first and then
Georgina O’Neil. They both lay on the muddy riverbank, exhausted by
the night, by the cold, and by the events.

Jo-Lynn got to her feet first. ‘My baby.’

Georgina noticed blood staining Leroy’s trouser leg. ‘You’re
hurt?’

Jo-Lynn moved to the mouth of the tunnel, breathed deeply and
shouted with all of her might.

‘WILL?’

Barely half a second passed before Ray’s voice roared back.
‘MOMMY.’

‘
Are you okay baby?’ Her voice echoed down the
tunnel.

Ray’s voice came in sobs, no longer able to be strong. He just
wanted to be hugging his mother. ‘Help me, Mommy.’

Jo-Lynn fell to her knees. ‘We’re coming, baby…we’re
coming.’

A hand rested on her shoulder, Jo-Lynn turned to see Georgina
smiling at her. ‘I’m sure he’s fine, a fighter just like his
mother.’

A helicopter swooped past. The bright halogen lamps set around
the house were triggered illuminating the area. Somewhere in the
near distance was the sound of approaching emergency response
vehicles. Leroy sat down on the muddy grass and returned his gun to
his holster. Blood continued to soak from his wounded leg through
his trousers.

‘You want me to apply some pressure to that.’ Georgina said,
indicating to the thigh wound.

‘Yeah’ Leroy tried his best to smile. ‘I always knew you were
dying to get inside my pants.’

Georgina hunkered down and pressed the palms of her hands
firmly onto Leroy’s bleeding thigh. ‘As long as you know, I am not
making a pass.’

Leroy sat down on the ground and lay back, looking at the
black night and the falling rain.

The hours that followed were, in Georgina's mind,
unnecessarily excessive and tortuous on top of the ordeal they had
encountered but she was often part of that procedural team herself
on many occasions and understood the reasons why, even if she
couldn't sympathise with them. Wynan O’Neil stepped from the
helicopter and made his way to the house. The door was wide open
now. The FBI director found Leroy, Jo-Lynn, Ray and his daughter
sitting in silence in the kitchen, too exhausted to talk. Ray had
scouted around the house and produced some quilts and blankets;
Jo-Lynn had turned the televisions off that were hooked up to the
computers in an attempt to disconnect from the real world and gain
some much needed privacy. She sat cradling her son, rocking back
and forth both of them still shell-shocked. It would be a long time
before the healing process would begin. Georgina sat on the floor
in the kitchen still applying pressure to Leroy’s leg wound. He
would survive, there was a lot of blood but the bullet was a
through and through, missing the femur and artery. Eventually the
paramedics arrived for Leroy and another ambulance followed for
Jo-Lynn and Ray.

‘I just want to thank you. I know that sounds inadequate but…’
Jo-Lynn stared deep into Georgina's eyes. Georgina felt like an
impostor, in her mind she hadn't done anything.

‘It’s…it’s more than adequate.’

‘You know, I really can't believe that Rick could do
this.’

Georgina looked at Jo-Lynn hugging her son, who was now
sleeping standing on his feet. Jo-Lynn lifted the child and rested
him on her hip and walked out into the rain and the waiting
ambulance.

‘I'll visit you tomorrow.’ Georgina called after Jo-Lynn. Her
voice echoed through the hall and rattled out of the building, out
into the rain sodden night, where it was lost amongst the black sky
and the white halogen lights of the assembling television
crews.

‘Ready to go home Georgie?’ Wynan O’Neil took of his long coat
and draped it around his daughter’s shoulders.

‘The impending inquiry will of course give you chance to
redress any question or matter you feel is warranted. I can’t begin
to tell you what a god-awful mess this whole affair has been. We
have no choice but to suspend you on full pay pending the decision
of the enquiry’

Georgina sat in the large office, staring through Director
Ebbley, out beyond the reinforced glass walls of his sixth floor
office. Her father, Wynan O’Neil, sat next to Ebbley. Remaining
silent for the entire hearing. He listened to the proceedings with
interest, only showing signs of detachment and professionalism.
Georgina’s finger ran over the small scar on her forehead, it
itched from the removal of the stitches and promised to leave an
angry red line which, ‘would diminish with time.’ or so she was
assured. Harold Ebbley had given the same speech at least once a
month for the past fourteen years in his post as Director of the
behavioural science unit. He had given it so many times it sounded
flat and said with little heart or conviction.

‘It has been three weeks and there is still no sign of Captain
Frusco even being charged.’ Georgina replied in an equally flat
tone. The passion in her own voice lost, stranded somewhere else,
wrapped up in bureaucracy and politics.

‘The situation there is delicate, and as you know complicated
by recent events.’

Events, Georgina knew what recent events were, and in her mind
gilded an already poisoned chalice.

‘The photos you gave us were fake doctored digital images. As
far as we can tell, Prentice Fortune and Rick Montoya were both
responsible for manipulating images, as was Andy White from the TV
station. Rick was getting Andy White to doctor the video images.
From what we can gather, Montoya, Fortune, Kiers, Dalton, England
White and Fleisher were the only people involved in the affair that
we have any credible incriminating evidence for. And some of that
evidence went up in smoke in the fire.’ Ebbley let the sentence
hang in the air. ‘Maybe we will never know the full
story.’

Ebbley’s voice drifted away inside Georgina's head, once more
an incoherent mumble. She picked up one of the colour photos from
Director Ebbley's Birchwood desk. The television station was almost
raised to the ground, now nothing more than a pile of smouldering
black ashes. Littered amongst the skeletal walls and empty
doorframes was the molten videotapes and images White was working
on. White was still missing. The case was a mess and far from ever
being truly solved.