When We Have Wings

by Claire Corbett

  ‘Job’s going as well as can be expected,’ said Taj when I got in and slammed the door. ‘You might notice I’ve sustained damage. Little thugs broke off my side mirror, scratched my side—whoa, dude, you okay? Drive you to hospital?’

  It became clear, as I caught my breath over a cup of tea in the Naxos Cafe in Pandanus ten minutes later, why Chesshyre needed me as well as a Raptor to pursue Peri. No flier, and certainly not a heavily built military- trained flier like a Raptor, could do anything in RaRA-land without standing out like a beacon. He couldn’t walk down the street, let alone question anyone, without every single person within a two-hundred-kilometre radius knowing about it. Such a creature was no use out here.

  I showed Peri’s photo to the elderly man behind the counter. He shrugged. She did look familiar, but no, he had no idea who she was, who she might turn to for help.

  The waitress blanched when she brought me my order, her gaze snagging on my bloodied head and cheek, which were stinging badly and which I hadn’t cleaned up too well, to judge by her expression. It wasn’t just Raptors who were out of place around here. My idea of dressing down—jeans, clean T-shirt, light jacket—was hilariously wide of the mark and being roughed up hadn’t improved this at all. The way I looked now would hardly inspire trust in Peri, if I found her.

  Taj alerted me again. He was even more on edge than I was. I looked across the street to where I’d parked him and was not pleased to see three young men, local toughs to judge by their swagger, inspecting him.

  I paid and headed for the car. One of the men—a boy, really, for all that he was wiry, rat-tough and packing some sort of weapon—came over and looked me up and down, balled-up fists deep in the pockets of his black jacket. I glanced at his shoes. Predictable. His type always sported shoes that cost about a week’s average wage.

  ‘He’s the one,’ Ratboy, clearly the leader, said to the other two. ‘Heard you had a bit of trouble,’ he said, turning back to me. He grinned, jerked his chin at the car. ‘Nice. Dog’s balls round here. Shame you let him get banged up like that.’

  ‘Hey. I heard that.’

  ‘Shut up, Taj.’ This was good. This guy was a local enforcer or he wouldn’t have been alerted to the incident in the Venice. Now he was checking out what was happening on his turf.

  ‘I was hoping to speak to you,’ I said.

  Ratboy took half a step back. He had no way of knowing how much, or little, I knew about him.

  ‘You’re not a cop,’ he said, testing the waters.

  ‘No. No cop would wander around out here on his own. The thing is, I’m looking for someone. If I find her, it’ll mean a lot to me. Plus prevent this whole place swarming with coppers.’

  ‘Her?’ Ratboy grew a fraction more interested. He’d picked up my hint that any information was valuable. Maybe he was calculating whether he could give me a lead without angering whoever he worked for.

  ‘You’d be doing this whole place a real service,’ I said. ‘Local hero. Keeping away a whole taskforce of City cops. They can be a bit . . . what’s the word? Indiscriminate. Hit or miss. Usually hit. Always so pissed off, aren’t they, when they have to come out here? Take it out on everyone.’

  ‘That right?’ said Ratboy.

  ‘Can we talk? Just for a minute?’

  ‘We’re talking.’

  I looked up at the sky. Storm clouds were piling up over the sea. I ran my finger down Taj’s polished side, felt the scratches. ‘It’s confidential.’

  Ratboy jerked his head at the other two, who moved further off.

  I showed him the Little Angels photo of Peri.

  Ratboy’s eyes widened. Jackpot. Quickly, I showed him the other photo of Peri, the one with her wings.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Ratboy exclaimed. ‘She actually did it. Always thought the bitch was crazy. She actually fucking did it.’ He looked up, eyes dead as pebbles. ‘Haven’t seen her.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t have thought so. Look, she’s not in trouble. But if I don’t find her, she will be. She’s made a mistake and I can help her fix it so that the cops aren’t all over her. And all over this place.’

  Ratboy shrugged.

  ‘She could even lose her wings.’

  ‘Told you, haven’t seen her.’

  ‘Anyone else in this town she knew? Who would she go to for help?’

  ‘Who were you looking for?’

  ‘Her foster mother. Bronte Shaw.’

  Ratboy snorted. ‘Her. ODed.’

  Well, that was interesting. Wonder who in the Venice was now defrauding the department by claiming her payments?

  Ratboy looked over his shoulder at the other two men. Suddenly he yelled, ‘Look, I’m not telling you nothing!’

  He pushed me hard against Taj. ‘Now, fuck off!’ But under his breath he muttered, ‘Cody, Fig Tree Road.’

  The streets on the way there were a wasteland of closed roller doors and dusty, broken windows but Cody’s SeaChange Nursery was one of the few bright spots in Pandanus. It sported a broad lawn planted with new turfs to look like a patchwork quilt: squares of fluoro purple, blue neon, acid lemon. And there was a man who must be Cody himself, waiting for me on his electric lawn. A breeze sprang up. Ratboy must have called him in the five minutes it’d taken me to find the place.

  A cloud passed overhead, dulling the colours, then moved on. ‘Quite nice,’ Cody said doubtfully, waving a sun-freckled hand over the now painfully bright grasses. ‘Spectacular but you have to look after ’em. Can’t make them too hardy, you know. Don’t want to be making more Superweeds, heh, heh. These are called Accents. Contemporary Accents, some nonsense like that.’

  Who around here would be buying from Cody? Couldn’t see Ratboy investing in Contemporary Accents. The only real trade must be with the pharmers up in the hills. The bulk of his business would be under the counter, off the books, supplying locals with pirated crop strains.

  Cody pulled his bucket hat, the colour of dirty sea-foam, down over colourless eyebrows and started along a sandy pathway between potted citrus trees. ‘So, Ryan suggested I help you. If I know what’s good for me I’ll do just that. Still, how should I know where Peri would go? She just worked for me for a couple of years, that’s all. Look around all you like, she’s not here.’

  ‘There must be someone else she knows, someone else who’d help her?’

  I explained what she’d done, emphasising that if I couldn’t find Peri, then the police would be after her. ‘Hugo’s parents are rich and they won’t give up,’ I said. ‘They can make things uncomfortable for people out this way for a long time.’ I gazed round the nursery, at the dark-leaved citrus dotted with bright fruit, the flowers, the herbs. ‘Turn the place upside down.’

  Cody scowled, scratched his head. ‘Well, Peri’s foster mother had a sister,’ he said finally. ‘Janeane Shaw. Up in the hills.’

  ‘Bet she’s bought a fair few things from you over the years.’

  Cody looked at me.

  ‘That’s for you. And make sure Rat—Ryan gets this,’ I said, handing Cody cash folded into a bag I’d scavenged from inside Taj.

  ‘Don’t worry. Ryan’ll make sure he gets what’s his.’

  The road climbed steeply, winding around banana plantations. Weeds by the road tangled more densely. If Taj broke down or I was bitten by a snake, I’d be lucky to find help out here. The banana plantations were proof the locals had to be pharmers. Cody had given me Janeane Shaw’s address: The Owls, Upper North Trunk Road. Now, mate, you’re not gonna mention me. Right?

  ‘You should know,’ said Taj after time had passed with the only sound being the crisp of grit and dirt under his wheels, ‘that we’re now in a communications black hole.’

  ‘Satellites?’

  ‘No. Blocked, jammed or signal’s not relayed. Intel sugge
sts the locals access some old cable infrastructure but it’s no use to you.’

  How convenient. The lack of satellite services might be a nuisance to the locals but it also shielded them from surveillance. Even if relay facilities were set up, they’d soon be disabled. By now I was on edge. If I disappeared out here, I’d never be found.

  ‘I must advise you to turn back.’

  ‘Must you?’ This day was exposing Taj to situations that were revealing behaviours I’d never seen before. Crucified eagle must be bothering him.

  As I was thinking seriously about following Taj’s advice, a fenceline started up along the roadside. After a few minutes the fence ran to a wire gate topped by a metal cutout of an owl with glass eyes. That was as good a clue as I was going to get. I stepped out and opened the gate as Taj drove through, then shut the gate. Once inside Taj again, I set my slick on my professional emergency frequency, though I knew it wouldn’t do any good out here, and slid my gun back into its leg holster.

  The track cut through thick bush. A few hundred metres along, it ran down into a creek. Further up the hill I glimpsed an old grey single-storey house through the trees. The track continued towards the house on the other side of the water.

  ‘I’ll stop here,’ said Taj, slowing almost to a halt.

  ‘I don’t want to leave you this side of the creek, Taj, so close to the road.’ Also, I hated approaching a house like this on foot—these people always had dogs. ‘Aim for the centre—see those wheel ruts on the other side?’

  ‘I must formally lodge a protest. My warranty will not cover this.’

  ‘I’ll take it on advisement, Taj. Now move. Whoever lives here drives through the creek all the time.’

  Taj rolled forward, splashed, spun his wheels, found traction. My spirits lifted. Despite the fuss, Taj was having no trouble; we were nearly through.

  A sickening thunk. Taj’s nose banged down heavily. A hole in the creekbed and Taj had to find it. The engine died.

  Fuck fuck fuck. Damn it to hell.

  I tried to start the engine. Nothing. I opened the door and stepped out. Now the creek was flowing into Taj. Water was banking up inside so I opened the passenger door. Un-fucking-believable. Now the creek was running through Taj. He was silent. I felt sick. Stay shiny, dude.

  Can’t turn back now. I climbed onto the opposite bank and squelched towards the house.

  Click. I froze.

  ‘Hands up. Turn around slowly. Swear to god, you try anything, I’ll blow your head off.’

  The voice was dry, angry but controlled. I turned slowly, hands up. My worst fears about this job were being realised, one by one. Remember, things can always get worse.

  She stood only just clear of the crowding trees, rifle at shoulder height, pointed at me.

  ‘Janeane Shaw?’

  She was lean, with short grey hair under a rabbit felt hat, her long legs encased in stained moleskin trousers over shabby walking boots. A reddish cattle dog, very small, looked up at her, back to me.

  The woman moved a little closer, her rifle aimed dead centre on my chest. At least she looked like she knew how to use the thing. I felt sure this was where Peri would come for help.

  ‘Your weapon,’ she said. ‘Very slowly. Show me.’

  I pulled up my trouser leg.

  ‘Undo the holster. Kick it over there.’

  When I did, she retrieved the gun, opened it, tipped out the cartridge, stowed the empty weapon in one pocket, cartridge in another.

  She craned to see past me, to where Taj was bogged in the creek, and shook her head. Trees creaked in the strong afternoon wind. The storm brewing over Pandanus must be heading this way.

  She looked back at me, slitted her eyes. ‘See you’ve been making friends round here already. Talk.’

  ‘I’m looking for Hugo Katon-Chesshyre and Peri Almond.’

  A startle. ‘You the dad?’

  ‘No. Hugo’s father hired me to find him. Well, his mother and father.’

  ‘What?’ The woman, it must be Janeane, looked poleaxed.

  ‘Hugo’s parents,’ I said, ‘have hired me to find him. Peri’s taken the baby and fled, we don’t know why. Look, Janeane, you wouldn’t just be helping Hugo’s parents; you’d be helping a vulnerable baby and Peri. You don’t want Peri in trouble for kidnapping. You don’t want to be in trouble for that. You can see I’m not a cop but if I don’t find Hugo . . . ’

  Janeane looked briefly at her dog, then back to me. Was the dog a puppy or a scaled-down version like Frisk? Or one of those new Perpetual Pups? My mind was racing. Why bother with the dull adult animal when you can have a cute, frolicsome kitten or puppy for the term of its natural life?

  ‘So Peri Almond is here?’

  ‘Didn’t say that.’

  ‘You’ve seen them.’ I leaned over slowly, holding out my slick to her.

  Janeane studied it for a moment, flicked past my details to the photos of Peri and Hugo and the Chesshyres, handed it back. ‘Jesus. Better come with me.’

  Janeane stormed ahead of me towards the house. She was so angry it made me wonder what Peri had told her. She wouldn’t’ve been too keen to tell Janeane she’d taken someone else’s baby.

  Janeane paused at the bottom of the steps to the house.

  I pressed my advantage. ‘There’s a big difference,’ I said as I came up to her, ‘between helping a young woman on the run with her baby and helping a kidnapper.’

  ‘Yeah, I fucking get it,’ hissed Janeane. She walked up the steps, turned. ‘Wait here. You can’t go anywhere anyway.’

  A moment later Janeane came flying out of the house and down the steps, more enraged than ever.

  ‘What?’

  She turned on me. ‘She’s taken all her stuff. Looks like she’s gone already. You probably frightened her off.’

  No. Please no. You can’t be saying I’ve just missed her.

  A moment. ‘One place we could look. We’ll have to be very careful, very quiet.’

  I nodded.

  ‘You can’t force her into anything,’ said Janeane. ‘You know she can fly so all you can do, if we find her, is talk. Don’t forget you need my help to get your scrap metal out of my creek.’

  Oh god, Taj. How long was he going to be left with the creek running through him? What state was he going to be in by the time I got back to him? How the fuck was I going to get away from here, back to the City?

  Janeane skulked along the bush track, rifle in hand, dog trotting to keep up. I followed, as quietly as I could.

  We climbed down to a wild stretch of creek, well away from the house. After following it for a quarter of an hour, we came to where it joined a river pooling into bowls of deep green, water crackling like cellophane over low falls of rock. We crossed to the other side of the river over a trail of flat stones under shallow water. Janeane looked down at the sand, paced the riverflat, frowned.

  ‘She was here.’

  Printed on white sand: feathers, edge of a wing, a tiny foot.

  Janeane scouted around in the brush and trees leading up from the riverbank, then waved me over.

  ‘Bad news. She’s headed up towards Moss’s Bluff. Looks like she’s flying away on us.’

  Emerald-blue glinted in Janeane’s hand. A feather.

  Now Janeane was running up a track leading steeply away from the river. Despite my daily run I was in agony, chest heaving, stitch in my side. I stopped to catch my breath and my calves cramped. The pup shot past, gambolled back; it was having a fabulous time. Wind gusted, shaking trees.

  Janeane slowed, held up her hand.

  We moved forward, the wind covering our approach.

  Janeane patted the air: stop. She darted ahead, out of sight around a curve in the track.

  I heard a sho
ut and then I was racing forward to see Janeane running ahead of me after a young woman. The track ended in front of them, and beyond and below rolled a green valley. The security footage of Peri had been brief but there was no mistaking her height or the rich red-brown wings.

  Those huge wings were opening as she ran, the rising wind was catching them, Peri was already a metre or two off the ground without even flapping them, the cliff was about to fall away beneath her.

  ‘Peri!’ screamed Janeane, scrabbling to a halt. ‘Peri, stop. Come back!’

  Peri hovered above the cliff edge. She called out something I couldn’t hear but Janeane, closer to her, reaching up almost to drag down on the chestnut wings, shook her head wildly.

  ‘I didn’t bring him here,’ Janeane shouted. ‘You did!’

  A gust of wind caught Peri, blew her sideways. She sheared round, slightly higher but still dangerously close to the cliff. Now I could see the startling flashings of light green-blue along the undersides of her wings. And I could see the baby in his sling, strapped to Peri’s chest. Hugo, so close.

  ‘Just talk,’ Janeane shouted into the rising wind. ‘I’ve disarmed him. You’re safe. You can’t fly in this weather. Please.’

  Peri faced into the wind, wings wide, still just a few metres above the clifftop.

  I’d come all this way and there she was, there Hugo was, and they might as well be on the moon. No way to reach them. No way up there at all.

  Peri half folded her wings and dropped till she balanced on the cliff edge. The wind caught her and she stumbled. No, no, no. Just what we needed, for the girl to plunge off the cliff in front of me. With the baby.

  Janeane held out her hand. ‘Just talk. No-one can make you do anything.’

  Peri walked towards me, stopped, chin up. Defiant.

  Better to drop my gaze. I took my sunglasses off to look at Hugo. Hard to believe he was right here. I’d studied his image so intensely that his dark hair, his calm eyes, were imprinted on my mind’s eye. His legs were strikingly long and elegant for a baby, as if he already carried his grown man’s shape in his baby body.