by Nick Hawkes
Benjamin nodded. “Archie gave me your message. You wanted to see me?” He looked at her for a moment. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m having a good day,” she smiled. “Thanks for coming, Benjamin. Phoebe’s got your passport. Collect it from her before you go.” She pointed to the chair beside her. “Now tell me, how was your trip?”
“Surprising…disturbing…and liberating,” he said, sitting down. “I’m glad I went.”
“It was time you did.”
Benjamin nodded. “And is it time you told me what’s wrong with you?”
“I have cancer. Terminal. I’ll be in Melbourne having a canula put into me while you are in Sardina.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
A butterfly fluttered between them untidily as if it had forgotten where it was going.
After a moment’s silence, Benjamin said, “You’re a remarkable woman.”
She acknowledged his compliment by inclining her head. “Death is a door we must all pass through at some stage. It holds no fears for me.” She raised her chin. “Do you believe it is a door, Benjamin, or simply nothingness?”
Benjamin lowered his head. “No blackfella thinks his ancestors are ever truly gone. They watch.”
“Hmm. But it’s not just a question of cultural beliefs is it? It’s a question of what is true.”
Benjamin waited for Marjorie to elaborate.
She liked that about him—he gave time. She eased her head back. “Any spiritual claim concerning humanity needs to make sense of why we live and why we die. To be careless of these two great mysteries is a culpable folly.”
She saw him smile and shake his head. Perhaps she was being too strong. Better ease back.
“It seems to me,” Benjamin said slowly, “that we humans are either obsessed with death or we hide from it. We refer to it in hushed tones with euphemisms.”
“Silly, isn’t it?”
Benjamin nodded.
“Why is it, do you think, that we have this innate compulsion to avoid death and survive for as long as possible? Is it just a useful instinct we’ve developed to help us propagate our species?”
Benjamin said nothing. Marjorie glanced at him, trying to gauge how he was feeling.
He was fine. His silence was making space for thought, not disengagement.
She continued. “It’s interesting, isn’t it, that this instinct doesn’t switch off once we’ve performed our biological duty and had children. We don’t just surrender to death, calm in the knowledge that we have done our job. Instead, we become social burdens, clog up supermarket queues, and use up more than our fair share of medical resources.”
Benjamin smiled, then lowered his head again. “Death is not nice. It ruptures bonds of love. I hate it.”
“But surely death is a good thing. It clears the stage of old organisms and makes space for new ones to develop. Death drives the whole engine of biological evolution. It has resulted in you.”
He looked at her. “But you don’t believe that.”
She smiled. “No. It’s a cold, empirical answer that, whilst partly true, doesn’t address the full mystery of why life exists.”
“So, does the answer get warmer?”
Marjorie acknowledged Benjamin’s question with a nod. “I think it has to do with a man who overcame death, whose love took him to a cross.” She smiled. “That’s a story that warms things up a lot—and finding your place in it will introduce you to an eternal cosmic adventure.” She reached out and patted his arm. “Pop inside, dear, and see Phoebe.”
Evening had fallen by the time Benjamin took his leave of Phoebe and Marjorie. His time with them had been surreal. Marjorie, in particular, had taken him places with her thinking that he’d never been before. She’d ripped apart the lazy, safe place he’d hidden himself away in.
He felt the passport in his top pocket. It was an odd sensation to own one. He had read the words inside it: ‘…requests all those who it may concern to allow the bearer, an Australian Citizen, to pass freely without let or hindrance…’
Belonging. The idea caused him to think again of Felicity. He had seen almost nothing of her since his return. Archie had encouraged her to spend as many daylight hours as possible with a friend to help ensure her safety. She had chosen to spend her days either with the workmen at the building site or with Gabrielle.
The moon moved behind a cloud. Benjamin looked up. Most of the Milky Way could still be seen. Centaurus, half-man and half-beast, was in mid-leap across the southern sky. Benjamin wondered which he was.
His phone rang. It was Marcus.
“Hello, oh destitute one,” said Marcus brightly.
“I’ll get cutlery and plates for your next visit.”
“Hmph. I’ll believe that when it happens. Now listen. I’ve been getting the goss on Khayef. I’ve gotta tell you, you wouldn’t want to mess with these guys. They’re big…and getting bigger. One of their blue ribbon projects is that huge Sydney harbor development. It’s been in the news for most of this year. There’s a bit of scandal regarding CFMEU union bosses getting backhanders for awarding contracts and ensuring industrial peace. It’s even washing up on the shores of some government ministers.”1
Marcus paused before demanding, “Ben, are you listening?”
“Yep.”
“Seriously, Ben. You want to be careful around these guys. The word is, they’ve got the Saracens doing some of their stand over work. There are all sorts of sweetheart deals going on between them and Khayef. Just be careful, okay?”
“Thanks Marcus, I will. By the way, I’ll be out of town for the best part of a week.”
“You’re heading off for some well-deserved truancy?”
“Sort of.”
“Where are you off to?”
“To a place that’s well away from nosy people.”
Marcus ignored the rebuff. “Come on.”
“I might send you a holiday snap.”
“Hmph. Well you’re probably due for some dull time after all the excitement of your break-in.”
“Yeah, a break would be good.” I’m actually going overseas to find a treaty of massive historical significance that will stop me from being killed…and I’ll be in the presence of a woman I can’t stop thinking about…and I’ll be accompanied by a trained killer who suffers PTSD.
“I’ll see you when I get back.” Benjamin rang off.
He could smell wood smoke in the crisp night air. The delicious realization came to him that some of the wood smoke was probably coming from his own chimney. A warming fire would be waiting for him at the workshop. He wished, with all his heart that Felicity could be with him to share it. As it was, he was sharing it with Archie. It was his turn to cook tonight. “The food will be fairly light,” Archie had warned, “Nothing spicy. You need to sleep and be ready for tomorrow.”
Chapter 14
Felicity watched as Archie fiddled with a yellow, hand-held scanner. A cable led from it to the backpack strapped on his back.
“Is it working?” she asked.
Archie was chewing a matchstick. Felicity could see it nodding somewhere between his blonde mustache and beard. “Just checking it now.” He placed the scanner on the floor and moved it from side to side while looking at the small screen above the handle. “Hmm. Cagliari’s builders seem to have done a fair job putting the reinforcing rods into the concrete floor.”
“You can see them?”
“Yeah. Pretty clearly, actually.”
“Impressive. How does it work?”
“This little baby is a subsurface imaging radar. It uses unmodulated continuous-wave signals to find listening devices embedded in concrete walls.” He grinned. “It’s ASIO’s best.”
She chewed her lip. “But will it be able to find a cavity in a stone elephant?”
“Probably.”
“Probably!”
Archie shrugged and returned his attention to the scanner.
Felicity spun around in exas
peration.
They had booked a family suite in a hotel on the edge of the ancient city of Cagliari in Sardinia. Benjamin and Archie were sharing the main bedroom; Felicity had her own room to the side. The rooms were basic but comfortable enough. The best feature was the large balcony. Felicity walked outside to join Benjamin who was leaning on the balustrade.
Below her, in the tangle of narrow laneways, the café waiters were busy laying outdoor settings in readiness for the evening trade.
Benjamin was staring at the old city that rose up the hill in front of them. The evening light played on the orange terracotta tiles of the rooftops. Typically, he didn’t say a word. His silence seemed to invite her to join in his stillness. She looked out at the ancient buildings and tried to see what he was seeing.
The domes of Cagliari’s churches dotted the city. Felicity resisted a compulsion to count them. Everything in Sardinia was so different. Nearly all the buildings were adorned with ornate Romanesque corbels and had shuttered windows above tiny balconies. Geraniums could be seen spilling from pots behind the decorative, wrought iron rails. Some balconies still had the day’s washing hanging out on clotheslines. It was enchanting.
Benjamin pointed to the sky just above the horizon. “Can you see them?”
Felicity searched the sky until she saw some tiny black dots where Benjamin was pointing. She watched as the dots resolved themselves into a flock of flamingos. The sun burnished their pink and black wings as they flew overhead, trailing their impossibly long legs behind them.
Benjamin smiled. “Mario, the porter, tells me they fly over almost every night. Evidently, they feed in the salt pans during the day and roost at night in the headwaters of the estuary.”
“Why am I not surprised you know this?” Felicity had aimed at levity but was unable to hide a catch in her voice.
It was not lost on Benjamin. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
Felicity lowered her head. “Oh…I suppose I’m a little apprehensive about what we are attempting.”
Benjamin put a hand on top of hers on the balustrade. “You are resourceful, you speak the language, and you are very bright.” He cocked a thumb. “And we’ve got Archie. I’d say that’s a pretty good hand.”
She wanted to say, “…and I’ve got you,” but she didn’t.
Benjamin turned around. “Archie, will it be okay if Felicity and I head into the old city this evening?”
Archie joined them on the balcony. “Yeah, you’re safe enough here. No one knows you…and you’re way overdue some time on your own. Enjoy the evening together.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll probably head down to Poetto Beach. They’ve got live music and beach cafés there.” He grinned. “It doesn’t really get going ’til late, so don’t wait up for me.”
Benjamin nodded and took Felicity’s arm. It was such an innocent action but its significance for Felicity wasn’t lost. “Let’s take the map and wander up to the elephant tower. We’ve got time so see it before the light fades if we leave now. Then we’ll have a better idea of what our options might be.”
Felicity delighted in the simple pleasure of being with Benjamin as they walked through the narrow streets. Most had cobbled drain-ways running down the middle which, she thought, must present a fair hazard to the motorbikes and scooters that hurtled down the laneways. They also learned quickly to duck into a doorway whenever a car drove by—the wing mirrors passing dangerously close.
There seemed to be a church every one hundred meters along each road. Felicity pulled Benjamin inside one of them. He trailed behind her. They gazed around at the extravagantly ornate décor—the gold, the carvings, the paintings, the icons.
Benjamin didn’t stay long. He edged toward the door.
“What’s the matter?”
“Don’t know. Wrong feeling. Need to leave.”
Back in the laneway, Benjamin breathed deeply. He looked at Felicity apologetically and shrugged, “Don’t ask. I don’t understand either.”
She took him by the arm. “You are a strange fellow, Benjamin Bidjara—but fortunately, fairly nice.”
They continued deeper into the heart of the old city. Many of the stone houses lining the laneways had huge wooden doors, some of which had metal knockers cast in the shape of a hand holding a ball.
Benjamin paused to point out a small green lizard warming itself on an ancient wall in the last of the sunshine. Felicity smiled. Benjamin saw very different things from most other people. She stole a glance at him. I’d love to understand your world, Benjamin. Please let me in.
The city was busy. Everyone seemed to be getting ready for the festival of St Efisio. The streets were bedecked with flags, and police were everywhere. It seemed to Felicity that the Sard police were either dressed in extravagant finery as if about to go on parade, or wearing flack jackets and toting machine guns as if ready to storm a building. She gave a wry smile. Despite the heavy police presence, the worthy denizens of Cagliari continued to park their cars with a singular lack of regard for any road rules. It seemed the cramped streets of the old city bred a certain tolerance. Felicity approved.
She held on to Benjamin’s arm as they made their way up Via Universita toward the Elephant Tower.
“What’s the story with this elephant tower?” Benjamin asked.
“It was one of three towers built in 1307 to bolster the city walls surrounding Castello Hill.” She pointed to the tower’s parapet as it began to peer over the rooftops. “The Aragonese from Spain were occupying the island—and the Sards hated them. The tower had originally been built on three sides without a rear wall. But the Spanish organized for the northern wall to be enclosed when they decided to turn it into a prison.” She began pulling at Benjamin’s arm, unable to contain her excitement at being so close to the tower they had traveled so far to see. “As you might imagine, it didn’t do much to endear them to the locals.”
As they strode up the hill, the tower disentangled itself from the surrounding buildings and began to soar higher and higher above them. Soon, Felicity could see its grim portcullis. It seemed curiously at odds with the limestone walls that glowed pleasantly in the evening sun.
The stone elephant was immediately visible. It was about sixty centimeters long and sat on a plinth above one side of the gateway.
Benjamin shook his head. “That’s bizarre. I can’t imagine there were many elephants trotting around Sardinia in medieval times.”
Felicity squeezed his arm. “That’s precisely why it needs investigating. There are just too many coincidences for us not to investigate.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just wish we could do it without making ourselves public to the authorities in the museum. It could all be a complete fizzer.”
Benjamin pointed to the rooftop balcony of the house abutting the tower. “A medium-sized ladder would get Archie and his gizmo up to the elephant easily enough—if we had access to that balcony.”
“I don’t like your chances. It looks to be a private house.”
Benjamin rubbed his chin. “Maybe…” He gazed around him. “Maybe there’s a chance.”
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” demanded Felicity.
Benjamin smiled. “I think we should buy some ribbon.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later. But first, let’s get something to eat.”
The light began to fade as they made their way back into the labyrinth of alleyways.
It seemed to Felicity that almost every building was in need of repair. She smiled to herself. The locals wore their rich historical heritage as casually as the jumpers they threw around their shoulders. The Carthaginians, Romans, Spanish, and Italians had all left their mark. The result was a delightful jumble of history. Certainly, none of the repairs done in the last two hundred years seemed to be more than temporary. Live and let live. Leave the repairs to another generation—another millennium.
The locals were beginning to spill into the streets and seat themselves at the pavement cafés. Th
e old men had such interesting faces. They dressed badly, talked loudly, and gesticulated extravagantly.
The young men were in stark contrast. They were full of hubris, carefully coiffed, and expensively casual. A group of young women, most as small in stature as Felicity, were close by. They looked beautiful…and conspicuously ignored the young men. They were playing the oldest game on earth.
Felicity looked up at Benjamin. What sort of game am I playing?
Felicity and Benjamin stepped off the narrow pavement to make way for a young man escorting an elderly priest dressed in a black cassock and a wide-brimmed hat. As she did, she caught sight of a sign on the wall. It read, Cucina Sarda tipica—”typical Sard cuisine.” “This’ll do,” she said, and towed Benjamin through the doorway. They walked down the steps into a room with a vaulted stone ceiling. Groups of people were sitting at long trestle tables. Felicity gazed around, intrigued. There was history here that she knew nothing about.
Once they were seated, a waiter poured some local red wine from an earthenware jug into glass tumblers.
Benjamin looked up at her from under his dark eyelashes and smiled. “This is very different from anything I’ve ever experienced, or expected to experience.” He took a sip of the wine, coughed, and pulled a face. “I’m afraid there’s a lot I’ve yet to get used to.”
“Including me?” Damn. She’d said it before realizing.
Benjamin was silent for a while, then reached over and placed a hand over hers. “You, I never want to get used to you.”
“Oh,” she said weakly.
The wall lights threw dark shadows across the vaulted ceiling.
What now?
She replayed what she had heard. There had been no hint of levity in Benjamin’s voice. She studied his face. Composed. Soft…yes, soft eyes. “Umm, you do realize that a girl might take that to be a romantic overture, don’t you?” she said carefully.
“It was fully intended to be one.”
She put a hand to her breast, “What? You…me…?”
Benjamin nodded.
“Then…”
