Trojan Gene

by Meg Buchanan

  Ela nods like I’d know about that. “I don’t know what to do,” she says. “I’m cold and wet, and smell like a dog and still don’t know what’s happening.”

  I know the feeling. “Will you be all right for a moment? I’ll just go into the pub and see if Mum knows anything and ring the cops.”

  *

  When I get back, Ela’s still standing in the rain facing the road. She watches an undamaged car go by. “They look safe, like they’re in a nice warm cocoon.”

  “Yeah.” The lights of the car are dipped. Behind it, red and yellow tracks reflect the streetlights.

  Then she looks at her Com and checks it.

  “You got texts?” I ask.

  “Yes, heaps of them.”

  “Amon?”

  She nods, then hits delete without reading them, and turns off the Com. She glances back at her mum’s Eco. It looks despondent sitting there on its wheel rims. The tyres all flattened, like puppies’ feet.

  “Mum says to put your Eco and the Land Rover in the garages at the back of the pub. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” Ela nods. “Get in and follow me around.” Ela nods again and gets in her mum’s car.

  We drive round the back. Nick’s there, sitting in his ute in the parking area waiting for us. I pull up beside him.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  He looks at the damage on the Land Rover. Then at Ela’s car.

  “Bloody Willises,” I say. “Give us a moment.” We get the vehicles into the garages while Nick waits. Then we all run to the back door, go inside to get out of the rain.

  “You really think the Willises did the damage?” Nick asks.

  “Yeah.” I tell him how my day has gone.

  “Bummer,” he says.

  “Why are you here?” It’s late. Nick must have been working in the rain all day. He’s probably as cold and tired as we are.

  “We got to do something about Vincent,” he says.

  “Yeah.” I push through the doors to the private bar. It’s empty.

  From the public bar, Arthur calls us over. “The Willis boys were asking about Ela earlier. I thought you’d like to know,” he says.

  “What about Ela?”

  “They said they’ve seen you with her a couple of times.”

  “Did they want anything?”

  “Nah, just seemed interested in who she was and who the car belonged to.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “That Vincent guy turn up?”

  Arthur nods. “And his mate.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Bed, I think.”

  Nick, me and Ela go upstairs. “What now?” asks Nick. I sit down at the computer, turn it on.

  Ela comes into the office. “Yesterday you ask your mother to spy on someone who kills people. Now you’re going to do another search on him?”

  “No, no search.” We wait for the old computer to fire up.

  “What then?”

  I try to figure out another way to learn something about him without raising an Alert. Then realise Mum said he sounded Australian. I have contacts in Australia. “I know who might help.” I flick onto email icon. “I’ll see what Yvette and Dad know about Vincent.”

  “Who’s Yvette?” asks Ela.

  “My stepmother. She’s a cop.”

  “You said you thought your father left because of Jacob’s thing.”

  “Must have got lonely,” I say.

  “Why them?” Nick watches the screen.

  “If Vincent’s Australian, like Mum says, they might have heard about him.”

  In the email I say I’ve met Carlos Vincent and wonder if they know anything about his background. I read it through, decide it will do, send it.

  *

  Just before dawn, there’s a chill in the air and I wake up. I’m not sure if I really heard Ela yell out, or if I dreamed it. Then I hear it again. I pull on some jeans and go and see what’s wrong. Floorboards creak. I reach around the door frame and feel for the switch. The light comes on and there’s Ela sitting way up the bed. She moves even further up pulling the sheet with her. All the covers are on the floor.

  “Are you all right?” I reach down and put the duvet back on the bed.

  “Just a bad dream.”

  I go over to the bed, sit down, put my arms around her. It’s familiar like it was in Nick’s ute. I’ve been here before.

  About a year before Dad left, our dads took me and Ela on a camping trip. We were all in the bush in tents. At night time, my dad and Ela’s would leave me looking after her while they went and did stuff.

  They always said it would only be for a few hours and it usually was. But once they were away for a long time. When it was nearly dawn, I woke up suddenly. It was that murky half-light you get just before sunrise.

  Dad wasn’t in the tent, but Ela was. She had crawled in, snuggled up with me and gone back to sleep.

  Dad and Ela’s dad didn’t come back the next day either. We were on our own all night again. We didn’t say anything about it, just looked after each other.

  They arrived late the next morning. Dad was injured, cuts all over him and a broken arm. Said he’d fallen and got hurt, and that was why it had taken them so long to get back.

  *

  “Can you stay?” Ela asks this time. “I keep dreaming I’m being chased and can’t move.”

  No surprise there. “Trapped in a glasshouse too?’ I ask.

  She nods. “And someone’s wrecked my Eco.” I feel a bit guilty about all that.

  “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.” It seems okay.

  She nods again and moves across to the side of the bed and lifts up the duvet, so I can get under it, and lies down facing the wall. I curl up around her and put my arm on the duvet near her waist.

  Chapter 15

  NEXT MORNING, I get up early again. I need to go to the farm, do the basics, feed the dogs, check the glasshouses, and fix the fence. Me, Mum and Ela go outside and check the vehicles. I stand in the garage looking at the damaged Land Rover with my hands shoved into my jeans pockets.

  “Can it be fixed?” asks Mum.

  “Rob thinks he’s got a windscreen and windows he can use. He’ll come and pick it up later.”

  Mum nods and looks at Ela. “What about your Eco?”

  “I rang Mum and she rang the insurance company this morning. They’ll pick the Eco up tomorrow,” says Ela.

  “What about until it’s fixed?’

  “They are giving me a courtesy one.”

  Mum nods. She’s going to let me keep using her car until the Land Rover is at least waterproof.

  I go to the kennel behind the garage and let Monsanto out. The dog runs a few loops around the car and then sticks his nose in Ela’s hand. She’s in a tiny skirt and the red boots. No running gear. She pats Mon’s head, trying to keep her distance. I guess she doesn’t fancy smelling like dog.

  “Get over here,” I tell Monsanto and open the boot of Mum’s car. The dog knows the routine, jumps in, circles once and then lies down with his head on his paws. I slam the boot shut.

  “Is he all right in there?” Ela asks getting in the passenger side of the car.

  “He’ll be fine. It’s just until we get to the farm.” I put my rifle on the back seat, open the driver’s door and get in, start the car, wave to Mum, and pull out onto the road. It’s still early, but the cool of morning is beginning to burn off, and the sun is sitting like a white ball in the sky. Cicadas are buzzing at full volume in the trees by the river.

  *

  As we pull into Jacob’s driveway a silver ute goes down the road. We’re hidden by the trees lining the road but can see enough to know it’s the Willis brothers again. I don’t know if they’ve seen us. They won’t recognise Mum’s car anyway. She keeps it in a garage at the pub. At least we know the Willises aren’t in the house at the moment. I’m still just guessing they’re causing the trouble, but they’re the most likely suspects.

  We go into the house. It’s th
e way we left it. No more damage.

  Ela’s given up on trying to tidy the place. She goes to the hot water cupboard by the range and gets out an old pair of jeans and a shirt. The shirt might even be a cast-off of Jacob’s, it’s so faded.

  “I’ll get changed.” She wanders off. Comes back into the dining room in jeans, fluffy socks and the old shirt.

  “You look different,” I say.

  “I’ve got boots and a Swanndri too. They’re in the laundry.” Now she tells me. She wanders out there. Comes back wearing the Swanndri, carrying the boots.

  I’m looking in the fridge for something else to eat. “Do you want to come and see what the Willises are up to? We could take the bikes and check the property at the same time.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “I’m going to feed the dogs first. Want to help?”

  She nods. We go to the garage to find the dog food. On the way, I fetch the rifle from the back seat of the car. She looks at the gun doubtfully.

  “Still the same vermin around.” I lean the rifle against the wall.

  Ela opens the fridge. “I guess you’re right. I saw that vermin go down the road.” She takes the roll of dog food out and cuts it into pieces.

  “You bring the rifle.” I pick up the dog food.

  We feed the dogs, get the bikes out, load the fencing gear into the panniers, and we’re ready to go.

  The three dogs run around sniffing each other and peeing on the gateposts.

  *

  Ela and I ride to the boundary fence.

  The sun’s getting warmer. There’s still the odd puddle around from the rain.

  The dogs race ahead.

  Jacob was right. Ela still manages a bike fine. I don’t have to help her start it, and she knows where to stop to open a gate, so she isn’t in the way. And she looks pretty comfortable in the old farm clothes. She’s still hot.

  We take turns opening and shutting gates. Everything is fine. Nothing disturbed or damaged.

  I get to the final gate and hear something.

  “Look at that,” I say over the noise of the bikes.

  Ela follows where I’m pointing. A helicopter is coming over the mountain towards us. It has a piece of equipment like a rotary clothes line dangling underneath.

  “What is it?” She comes to a stop beside me.

  “It’s a HoistEM. It’s used to map an area.”

  “I was expecting some sort of tripod.”

  “This is different. A tripod is used to drill for samples. The HoistEM is used to find promising places to drill.” The helicopter passes almost above us and then makes a turn and goes back to the left of where it’s come from. “Dad was involved in a project to find deposits of uranium. He used a HoistEM to detect underground channels and ponding. It finds artesian water because you find uranium in the ponding areas.”

  “They are looking for artesian water?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does that mean they didn’t find it at the other place?”

  “Probably, if it’s the same people doing it.”

  “Wouldn’t they be more secretive than this?”

  “Maybe they know Jacob is away.” I shrug. “Anyway, an airborne survey like this is done by flying at a low elevation. By coming over the mountain, they avoid being too conspicuous.” We wait for the helicopter to return, but it doesn’t come back. “Must have finished.”

  “Why would they be looking for underground water here?” says Ela. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Don’t know. We’ll find the Willises and have a talk. See if it’s them.” I start my bike, take the rifle off my back and lay it across my knees. Ela shakes her head as if she can’t believe I’m doing it, but she doesn’t comment.

  She follows me to the boundary fence and we see the empty ute sitting at the end of the road by the bush line.

  I get off my bike, call the dogs back. “Are you coming?”

  Ela nods and gets off her bike too.

  *

  We creep through the bush.

  I’m moving deliberately, keeping low and being careful where I put my boots, so I don’t make any noise.

  Ela follows close behind. She’s being pretty quiet.

  Suddenly, two shots ring out.

  I drop down, kneeling on one knee, keeping low, and wave to Ela to do the same.

  She copies me, staying close. I hear voices in the distance.

  “How did I do?” says one of the voices.

  “I’ll check.” It sounds like the Willis brothers. I motion for Ela to follow, and we creep nearer to where the shots came from. We stay in the bush at the edge of a clearing and watch the action.

  Across from us are two large pieces of white paper with crosses drawn on them. They’re nailed to a couple of trees, one about one hundred metres and the other about a hundred and twenty metres away. Henry walks over and looks at the first one. Charlie stays lying down, his rifle resting on a fallen log. Henry’s rifle is leaning against a tree.

  He calls to his brother. “Not bad, Charlie. Two clicks up and one to the right should get it.” He turns around, sticking his thumbs in his belt, making the jeans sit even lower.

  Charlie takes a screw driver out of his pocket and tightens screws on the top and side of his scope. Henry steps way back from the target, and his brother aims and fires again. He walks across to the target, examines it and gives his brother the thumbs up. Then he goes back to where his rifle is and picks it up. He holds it steady and aims at the target. He doesn’t shoot, just looks through the scope then adjusts the screws with the screwdriver until he’s satisfied.

  When he seems happy with what he can see through the scope, he takes Charlie’s place lying behind the log resting his rifle on the Swanndri. He aims carefully, fires, then moves enough to see how accurate he’s been.

  “Do you want me to check?” asks Charlie.

  “Not yet. I can see through the scope.” Henry makes a slight adjustment on the top and side of his rifle and then fires again. After four shots he’s happy with how he’s shooting, turns his attention to the target further away and goes through the same routine.

  Charlie examines the second target. “There’s a couple of shots up in the left-hand corner.”

  “Yeah, felt those pull. What about the others?”

  “They’re good.” Charlie gives him the thumbs up.

  Henry leans his rifle against a tree and goes to check. “It’s good.” He looks up at the canopy. “I haven’t heard that chopper for a while. Huey must be finished.”

  “Yeah.” Charlie rips the target off the tree. “Vincent is going to be pissed off if we don’t find anything again.”

  “We just need more information. We know it’s here. I remember Dad talking about it,” says Henry. “Huey said the gear will map the area for us, and we’ll be able to pinpoint likely sites. It’s a bit more scientific than just looking around.”

  “More information,” Charlie says, “and then we can nail it.”

  “It better work. It’s costing Vincent a bomb.” Henry takes the other target down and examines it again. He seems satisfied. Charlie is wandering around the clearing picking up spent cartridges. “If we don’t find anything, we might just have to talk to Jacob Hennessey when he comes out of hospital.”

  I motion to Ela and we creep back along the track. We reach the bikes without anyone following. The dogs have stayed, but are all standing, looking alert. They would have heard the rifle shots too. Monsanto crawls under the fence, runs over to me and does circles around us.

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen Henry and Charlie out of their ute,” says Ela.

  “What do you think?”

  Ela laughs. “Their mum and dad made some bad gene choices.”

  “No gene choice there.” I go to kick the bike into life. To me they looked the same as they always do: tall, solid, heads shaved bald. “They’re Naturals, like me.”

  Ela puts her foot on the kickstart. She sits there on the bike ni
bbling at the side of her lip, thinking. She looks over at me and pulls a chain out from under her jacket. “And me,” she says.

  “Can I watch it yet?” I ask. For a while she runs her finger along the join where the cover fits on then tucks the chain inside her shirt again.

  “Why are the Willis brothers sighting their rifles in here?” Obviously, a lot like that granddad of hers, trust issues too.

  “Probably just filling in time while Huey did his job.” I run my hand through my hair. “Now we know it was them who hired the chopper. They might have been the ones doing the core samples too, and we know where they’re getting the money.”

  “We still don’t know what they’re looking for. Water seems unlikely. It’s not like there’s a shortage of it.”

  “Would have been good if they kept talking, given us a bit more detail, drawn some maps, given us notes.” I sling my rifle across my back.

  Ela looks at the rifle. “Your gun looks different to theirs.”

  “It is. Theirs are flasher than mine. Ruger 308s, probably only about three years old, stainless steel action, synthetic stocks and floating barrels. The stainless means no rust, and the synthetic stocks won’t warp. It makes them accurate.”

  “How can they have rifles that new?”

  “Some Elite must have brought them in for them.”

  “What about yours?”

  “Mine belonged to Dad. It’s a Bruno 270, It’s eighty years old, and is still accurate, but the action can rust, and the stock can warp in wet weather. The stock’s walnut and the barrel’s steel.”

  “Yours is better looking. It looks like a real one. Theirs look like toys.”

  “They’re deadly toys and that was accurate shooting. Henry and Charlie shoot as good as I do.”

  “And me,” she says.

  “Can you still shoot?” I ask.

  “Of course. I never forget how to do anything,” says Ela.

  “Yeah, right. It takes practice to stay good.”

  Ela shrugs as if having to practice doesn’t apply to her. “Why didn’t you talk to the Willises? I thought that’s why we’re here.”

  I shrug too. “Like I said, they’ve got great rifles and are good shots.”

  Ela starts the bike. “That’s reassuring,”