Joe limped over to the damaged wheel. The tread on the ruined tyre could not have been more than a few months old. What could have caused it to fail? he wondered. A rock? As more thoughts descended through his mind, dropping like coins down a stairwell, his eyes were drawn to something.
Something that triggered a siren in his head. ‘Get down! Get down!’
Noah and Morgan immediately dropped onto their stomachs, responding more to the tone of his voice than the instruction itself. And for the second time in a week, all three men were face-down on the ground. ‘What is it?’ Noah called out.
Joe glanced down again at a sliver of brass embedded in the wheel arch. ‘It wasn’t an accident. The tyre was shot out.’
L’Ange de la Mort.
Joe raised his head and searched the bush in front of them. Was Xavier still out there, waiting for a clean shot? he wondered. Waiting to pick them off? Or was this just another part of his game? Another warning? Joe crawled around the front of the vehicle until he shared an eye line with both Noah and Morgan. ‘He must be on this side,’ he said softly, pointing behind him. Both men nodded and drew their guns. As one, they scurried into the tall grass and searched the area immediately ahead of them. Joe could feel his heart pounding against the soles of his feet. If Xavier was in an elevated position, which was almost certain, there was a very good chance he was still able to see them. Probably through the scope of his rifle. The thought made Joe’s skin itch. Using a combination of tree branches and ant heaps as cover, they probed deep into the bush, doing their best not to expose themselves.
But after more than half an hour of searching, the danger seemed to have passed. Not one to agonise over decisions, Joe made up his mind. He took a deep breath and straightened to his feet, his face coated in sweat. Noah hesitated and then joined him.
‘He shot out our tyre because that’s what he was aiming at,’ Joe said, his eyes scanning the treetops. ‘He wasn’t trying to kill us. Not right now, at least. Not yet.’
Noah dusted the front of his shirt, his eyes searching trees of his own. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Can’t you see what’s happening here?’
‘Any man with a rifle could take us out at any time. We chose this life, remember?’
‘Noah, with respect, there is a train coming and for some reason you can’t see it. Worse, you’re not even looking for it.’
‘Scare tactics. That’s all this is.’
‘You’re wrong. It’s more than that. Come on, you have to wake up to this.’
Noah’s voice flattened out. ‘With respect,’ he said, repeating the words deliberately, ‘I don’t really care what you and your people do on your side of the fence. But around here we don’t find ways to justify murder. We’re not vigilantes.’
‘Take it easy, you two. We’re all on the same side here,’ Morgan said.
Ignoring Morgan’s words, Joe continued. ‘So what are you actually saying here? If you knew for sure that these men were planning to put a knife in your back, you wouldn’t do anything to stop it? You wouldn’t even turn around to face them?’
‘Nothing … justifies … murder.’
‘Rather murdered than a murderer? Is that it?’
‘It’s been good having you here, Detective,’ Noah replied, and then turned away. ‘But any time you want to leave is absolutely fine with me.’
Morgan looked up at the burnt sky, then whistled to himself. ‘The Devil’s kites.’
‘Excuse me?’
He thumbed up at the heavens. ‘Raptors. I once read a book in which the author described them as the Devil’s kites. It’s always stuck in my head.’
Joe managed a smile and then looked down at the stubborn wheel nuts which, so far, Morgan had been unable to budge. ‘Then this must be his truck.’
‘Amen to that.’
‘Want me to have a go?’
‘No, I’ll get it. I just need to catch my breath.’
Joe nodded and then glanced across at Noah who was leaning against a tree on the opposite side of the road, arms folded, lost in thought.
‘Why the hell does it always look like he’s just stepped out of a bath? An hour ago he was crawling through the bush on his stomach and still there’s barely a mark on him.’
‘I don’t know how he does it, but I’ll tell you this,’ Morgan offered. ‘He’s a very good man. The best I know.’
‘You’re not going to break into song are you?’ Joe asked, and then shook his head. ‘He’s full of shit.’
‘I agree with you there. Can be stubborn as a tree.’
‘Closed-minded.’
‘Sure.’
‘Arrogant. Thinks he knows everything.’
‘Sometimes.’
Joe slipped his hands into his pockets and noticed an odd look on Morgan’s face. ‘What? Say it.’
‘All that aside though, he’s still the best man I know. Honourable. Fair. Loyal to a fault. Always tries to do the right thing. And I mean always.’
‘Well, the best man you know is going to become the best man you knew if he doesn’t open his eyes to what’s happening.’
‘Have you ever considered that you might be wrong about this? That maybe they are just trying to scare us?’
Joe frowned. ‘No.’
‘You don’t think that’s a little arrogant?’
Joe shrugged.
‘A little closed-minded? Stubborn, maybe?’
‘I get it, Morgan. I get it. But there’s one big difference between Noah and me.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘If I’m wrong about all this, we still get to live.’
‘I hear you. But if you’re wrong and we take the fight to them, then that makes us murderers. For someone like Noah, that’s unacceptable. I think he’d rather face the alternative.’
Joe leaned back against the hood of the truck. ‘Just change the goddamn wheel, will you?’
‘Sure,’ he smiled. ‘I’m just a lowly officer. You’re the detective.’
As Morgan resumed his battle with the truck, Joe began to unbutton his shirt. It felt as though they were standing in the mouth of an open furnace. He was so distracted by the heat that he failed to notice Noah striding towards him.
‘Look, Joe,’ he began, picking his words carefully. ‘I need to apologise for what I said to you. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.’
Joe’s own resolve quickly wilted. ‘No. If anyone’s owed an apology, it’s you. I’m sorry. You’ve been very kind to me and I’ve stepped out of line more than once. I just have a really bad feeling about all this.’
‘Look, as much as I don’t want to admit it, you might be right about everything. But even so, can you accept that I can’t do what you’re asking of me?’
Joe folded his shirt and tucked it into the side of his trousers. ‘That’s just what our mechanic here was trying to tell me. You know, you’re really quite something, Noah. There’s a good chance that two deeply disturbed men will be coming for you in the next few days and you’re willing to just sit back and wait for them. Even turn your back.’
‘It’s not quite as clear as that and I’d obviously defend myself – or any of us, for that matter – but I just don’t see much of an alternative.’
‘There are always choices.’
‘That depends on what you’re willing to do.’
‘Are your principles really worth dying for?’
Noah took a moment to consider his answer. ‘They’re worth living for.’
Joe stared intently at the young detective. ‘A realist and an idealist are both at a graveyard. Suddenly there’s a cloudburst and the realist quickly reaches for his umbrella, desperate not to be soaked by the downpour. He complains about the weather, curses his bad luck and wishes he were somewhere else. But he remains dry. The idealist does nothing. Do you know why?’
Noah shrugged. ‘Because he never packed an umbrella? Never considered that it could rain?’
‘No. He does no
thing because he’s the one in the ground.’
Noah looked down at his feet, slowly nodding. ‘So I’m the dead man? The idealist?’
‘You don’t have to be.’
‘Enough!’ Morgan blurted out, cursing and then tossing the spanner into the sand. ‘Can one of you detectives be so kind as to help me change this goddamn wheel? The sun is skinning me alive.’
‘All right, keep your dress on,’ Joe said. As he walked over to lend a hand, Noah noticed a faded elephant tattoo on his chest. ‘Hell, you really are obsessed with elephants. Where’d you get that?’
Joe glanced down at the tattoo as if he’d forgotten it was there. ‘Army. I was young and there was some drink involved.’
‘I’ve always wanted to get one.’
‘What … a tattoo? Really?’
‘Yes. What’s so surprising about that?’
‘Wouldn’t it break one of your holy commandments?’
‘Funny,’ Noah smirked.
‘What would you get?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘I do,’ Joe replied. ‘More than is reasonable, actually.’
‘I can’t really explain it, but I’ve always wanted … a man on a cross. Not Jesus, just an ordinary man.’
‘Oh, I get it.’
‘What? You couldn’t possibly.’
‘It’s obvious, actually. Especially for a detective of my calibre. It’s an image of pain and sacrifice. A martyr, perhaps,’ Joe answered, and then knelt down to address the wheel. ‘Another self-portrait, really.’
48
‘You have a name?’ Xavier asked, pulling up his zip.
The young woman lay curled up at the bottom of his bed, her trembling arms wrapped around her exposed breasts.
‘I asked you a question,’ he whispered. ‘Quite an easy one.’
‘Vicky,’ the girl sobbed.
‘That your real name?’
The girl nodded. ‘Yes. Can I go now?’
He stretched and then yawned as though he had just woken from a peaceful doze. ‘But I haven’t paid you yet. Don’t you want your money?’
‘I just want to go,’ she replied, her voice barely carrying to him. Her long black hair was bonded to the side of her face with a mixture of sweat and blood.
Xavier picked up her dress and handed it to her with a tenderness that had been absent in the preceding hours. ‘Wait here for a moment.’
He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. He then strolled out onto the deck with all the demeanour of a man at a loose end, someone with a few hours to kill. Scanning the bush, he searched for the silver kiss of a rifle, any sign that he was being watched. Finally satisfied, he turned around and sauntered back inside. Opening the door, he leaned over and wrapped a hand around the girl’s wrist. He then forced her hand towards his groin. But instead of placing it on his genitals, he pressed her fingers against the revolver wedged in his belt.
‘Can you feel that, mademoiselle?’
The girl nodded, her eyes wide and alert.
‘When you leave here, some police might catch up with you. They will ask you about me. If you tell them that I hurt you in any way, I promise I will find you. Do you understand?’
‘Y–Yes,’ she replied, her voice fracturing. ‘I won’t say a thing. I won’t. I promise.’
‘I am just a man who you met in a bar. You don’t even know my name. Say it to me.’
‘I don’t know who y–you are. I just met you in a bar.’
‘When?’
‘Last night?’
‘That’s right. Good,’ he said, winking at her. ‘And how did you hurt your face?’
Her eyes searched frantically for the answer. ‘I fell?’
‘Of course, but where?’
She hesitated. ‘Coming up the stairs … it was dark?’
‘Oh, yes … that will do,’ he clapped. ‘Well, Vicky, now we’ve both made promises. I hope for your sake that you keep yours, because I think you know that I will keep mine.’
With that, he released her arm, kissed her gently on her forehead, and opened the door. ‘Vicky, it was truly a pleasure having you as a guest. Be sure to come visit again very soon.’
She was out the door before Xavier had even finished speaking. She ran as hard as she could, barely stealing even a sideward glance at her surroundings. The sooner she could put any meaningful distance between herself and the hellish red cabin, the better. As Xavier watched her disappear into the bush, Requin emerged from his room.
‘Give her a few minutes,’ Xavier instructed. ‘I want to know if those policemen are following her.’
‘And if they’re not?’
‘Then I don’t care,’ he sighed, the girl’s face already fading from his mind. ‘Just make sure you get rid of her. And make sure it is nowhere near here.’
After tracking her for more than an hour, Requin was finally convinced that they were alone. Stalking around a bank of small trees, his nostrils flared as he got his first tantalising smell of her. It was a perfume cocktail of sweat mixed with sex mixed with fear. For a hunter of his particular tastes, it was an alluring combination, all but irresistible. Spurred on by how close he was, he rushed down a narrow trail and up an embankment. He then carefully turned his head around a run of dense shrubbery.
There she was.
She was standing only a short distance ahead of him, her hands clamped to her knees. He watched as she snatched her head around, trying to both catch her breath and get her bearings, desperate to make sense of where she was.
Requin felt the tendons in his jaw – and the muscles in other places – begin to harden.
The girl was a fragile deer, lost and alone in the woods. And just as her instincts told her, she was being hunted. Taking cleansing and steadying breaths, Requin restrained himself for a few more moments, savouring what was to come. When he could no longer bear it, he burst out into the open and charged at her. The girl screamed and tried to turn and run, but it was too late. He tackled her and immediately pinned her arms to the ground. He could already feel his erection swelling up against her. And then, without warning, without offering a single word, he punched her hard in the face. A single blow that snapped her head into the ground. Her world shuddered, faltered and then faded to black.
When she woke up, she was being carried on his shoulder, her mouth gagged and her hands bound. She tried to speak, but couldn’t.
‘What’s that?’ Requin asked.
More muffled words.
‘You know what I’ve been wondering?’ Requin continued. ‘Why you’re so light! It’s like you’re made of bird bones.’
Requin knew that he should do what his brother had instructed, but he also knew that this girl was special. He needed more time with her. Just another day or so and then he would dispose of her. Wiping his face with the tail of her dress, he made his way due west, towards a place that only he knew existed. It was a secret haven where he was free to do as he pleased, away from Xavier. Away from the world. It was a refuge where he could make all the decisions and everyone had to obey him.
Especially the whores.
‘Vicky, I’m taking you to my special place. You’re a really lucky girl,’ he said, gently rubbing the back of her legs. ‘You don’t have to worry about my brother hurting you anymore.’
As he marched with her slumped over his shoulder, blood from her cracked lips running down his shirt, he began to hum a tune. It was the spine of a song that had been playing in his head for as long as he could remember. He had no idea what it was, or when it had come to him, only that it had never left.
By the time they finally arrived, the sun had slumped over the horizon. Dropping her down as though she were a load of firewood, he admired his special place. It was an abandoned stone house built into the side of a hill. It was so overgrown with shrubs and vines that if you weren’t looking for it you would almost certainly mistake its walls for a pile of rocks.
He reached down, grabbed he
r by her feet and dragged her to the entrance.
Inside, the stone house was barely more than an empty shell. Lying on the sand floor was a lantern and a length of rope. Requin scooped up the rope and hurled it over a large wooden beam in the middle of the partially collapsed roof. Still humming the nameless tune, he tied Vicky’s hands to the rope and hoisted her up onto her feet. ‘Are you feeling better, my little bird? Are you ready for me?’
The girl tried to reply, but the gag again blocked her words.
‘Forgive me,’ he said, shaking his head as though he had forgotten his manners. He carefully removed the cloth from her mouth.
‘Please …’ she managed, a string of saliva trailing from her chin.
‘What is it?’
‘… don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. I promise …’
Requin rolled his eyes, as if considering her request. But then a look of confusion clouded his eyes. ‘Can you hear that song? Can you hear it, baby bird?’
49
Joe tried to ignore the writhing termites at his feet which were gradually reclaiming the dying hut back to the bush. Plump specks of orange and black were slowly devouring the cabin and had formed an industrious chain gang under his legs. He lifted his head and again peered through a small gap between the slats. Xavier was sitting on a chair in the middle of the main room, in almost complete darkness. The glow from a sickle moon painted him a faint grey as though lime, rather than blood, were feeding his body.
Joe had been watching Xavier for a long time already and the man had hardly shifted an inch. The only movement he could distinguish was when he reached for what looked like a whisky bottle wedged between his legs. In a different context there would be nothing particularly ominous about a man having a drink in the dark, listening to and appreciating the night calls of the bush. But in this case, and knowing what he did about this particular man, it was deeply unsettling. What was going through his mind? Joe kept wondering. What do killers think about in the dark? He knew he should probably have told Noah and Morgan about what he was doing but, given Noah’s obstinate views on their situation, he had opted against it. He was mulling over his decision when the sound of an approaching truck caught his attention. It was a faint drone at first, but quickly grew louder. He lay down flat on his back and watched as a yellow light filtered through the tall grass around him, painting the wood above him. The truck then turned sharply around the hut and skidded to a halt outside the front door.
Journey from Darkness Page 18
