The Inheritance

by Gabriel Bergmoser

  ‘And the Scorpions get away with everything,’ Maggie had said.

  Carlin’s smile was bitter. ‘Welcome to the game, girl.’

  One day, as Carlin set out to get a better sense of where everything stood, Maggie had asked him if he could do her a favour. He’d bullshitted and said predictable things about having done enough for her, but in the end agreed to check in on Ness.

  The memories that had come flooding back upon her return to Melbourne had lingered for a while now. Memories of that brief post-school attempt at a normal life, of the moment in that alley with the rounders bat, the moment that had reappeared at the forefront of her mind standing over Aaron in the lakebed. With Elliot, she had been interrupted. With Aaron she had chosen not to finish him, although given Aaron was dead now anyway, that seemed essentially pointless.

  When Carlin returned, it was with the news that Ness had married Elliot and was pregnant with his child. After that, whatever was left of Maggie’s idea of a normal life quietly slipped away.

  All of which left her . . . where?

  As she sat on that front porch with her almost-finished beer, the questions of where she had been turned fast to where she would go next. And there was no satisfactory answer to be found. Nowhere that made sense, no purpose to fulfil.

  If she had hoped the swaying trees and billowing clouds might spark some inspiration, she was to be disappointed. The wind was rising now; what had started as small gusts was picking up, rocking the forest and threatening to become a gale. Still, Maggie didn’t move. She liked the blasts of cold. Liked the feeling that each one was taking something away with it.

  Movement behind her. She finished her beer as Carlin sat and handed her another. Cracking his own, he leaned against one of the posts beside the stairs and watched the angry sky.

  ‘Cooper mentioned your daughter.’ Maggie didn’t look at Carlin.

  For a moment, he said nothing. When he did, his voice was level. ‘And what did he say about my daughter?’

  ‘Not much. He implied she was troubled.’

  ‘Troubled how?’

  ‘Drugs, I guessed. Like Aaron.’

  Carlin snorted. ‘Drugs are the least of it.’

  Maggie glanced sideways. Carlin’s expression as he looked to the sky was somewhere between annoyed and deeply sad. ‘In the end, I think Morgan’s biggest problem is herself.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Probably hard to explain without you meeting her. And if you asked Morgan, she’d lay a lot at my feet. Some of it valid. But at a certain point, parenthood becomes the cruellest type of punishment. You put everything into trying to do right by the person you created, or at least, right as far as you can see it. But in the end, they’re not there to be shaped by you. They’re going to make their own choices. And eventually you have to realise there’s only so much you can do to influence them.’

  Maggie’s eyes had returned to the trees but she could feel Jack’s gaze on her.

  ‘Which, by the way, goes for being a cop as well,’ he said. ‘You can try to help people, but if they don’t want to help themselves, then you have to ask yourself if it’s really something you can keep doing. ’Course, asking that of yourself doesn’t mean you have a choice. Some things are ingrained.’

  ‘Like?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘I guess I’d point to Aaron Cooper. When you told me he was in with the Scorpions, I wasn’t surprised at all. Harrison Cooper wasn’t a bad guy, not really. But he was weak. He wanted the easy way out. His heart was never really in being a cop, not enough to do the hard yards. Rook Gately offers Aaron something he wants, something that probably looks too good to be true; he was always gonna take it. He was his father’s son.’

  ‘And Morgan?’ Maggie asked. ‘Is she her father’s daughter?’

  ‘Through and through.’ A note of something strained and hard-to-read had entered Carlin’s voice. ‘And maybe that’s the problem.’

  ‘Or maybe what our parents give us, we don’t have to keep.’

  Carlin didn’t reply. They both drank. In the distance a flash of lightning lit the sky and was gone. The rain hadn’t started yet.

  ‘Will you still try to bring down Rook?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘If I see an opportunity, I’ll take it,’ Carlin said. ‘But in the end, I’m one person. The hard drive might have helped. A little. But without it, I’m not sure.’

  A rumble of faraway thunder.

  ‘And if you had help?’ Maggie asked.

  Carlin laughed. ‘Two isn’t much better than one, especially when one of the two is a fugitive and the other not far off that. The Scorpions have been careful for years. They might have made a couple of mistakes recently, like the lawyer’s office and letting that Nipper fuckwit join up, but with all the heat now they’re going to be making sure they don’t give any potential enemies anything to grab onto.’

  ‘Depends on the enemy. And on what they’re looking to grab onto.’

  ‘Well, that’s a bit fucking cryptic. But ultimately useless. Look at me.’

  Maggie did.

  Carlin smiled. ‘I like you, girl. But believe me when I say that sometimes you need to turn away before that thing you’re eyeing becomes an obsession. What I’m saying is I’ve fucked up enough times to know when a cause is lost. I’m hoping you’re smart enough not to arrive at the same conclusion from the same mistakes.’

  Maggie said nothing. Carlin stood, considered the sky for one more moment, then turned and went inside.

  Maggie stayed where she was as the rain started.

  In Queensland she had sought peace and quiet. Briefly she had found it and, in doing so, the old fantasy of normality had crept back. But she knew now that it was just a fantasy, and not a particularly worthwhile one.

  She could never escape her childhood. Not really. There were wounds that would always hurt, things about her that would forever be different and dangerous. Things that, to some, would look abhorrent. But being shaped by where she had come from didn’t mean she was defined by it. Maybe there was a way to take the jagged, broken edges and turn them into something with purpose. Something that, in some small way, could do good.

  She stood, still watching the rain. There was an idea turning over in her mind, an idea that grew bigger and more powerful by the moment. And as it grew, so did Maggie’s grin.

  EPILOGUE

  He needed time to process it all. Time and quiet. But the music was loud and The Pit was packed. The low lights might have hidden the grime, as if any of them cared, but they also made it difficult to make out expressions in the mass of people. He’d wanted to hold the wakes at the clubhouse, but they’d had too many of those recently and the boys wanted a change of scenery. And they wanted to bring their girls.

  The smell of sweat and petrol was heavy in the air. Not an uncommon aroma among bikies, but tonight it was giving Rook a headache.

  Then somebody was yelling something and the bar went quiet, except for Ryan’s sobs. Even the music was turned right down. Eyes were turning to him.

  Silence in the bar. The speech.

  Rook stood. Cleared his throat. Looked down into his drink. ‘It hasn’t been the smoothest run for us lately. But this is the life we’ve chosen, boys. Even freedom comes at a cost. And the hunt for freedom is what we embrace and what we are. The open road, the wind in our hair, the fact that the laws of a piss-weak government mean nothing to us.’ As he spoke, he thought of twisted, bullet-riddled bodies, of years in jail, of the constant simmering fear of your door being kicked in or the bursts of gunfire that could come from anywhere. That and the fact that they wore helmets and very rarely felt the wind in their hair.

  ‘Those young blokes knew that,’ Rook went on. ‘They knew it and they loved it. That doesn’t make what happened to them okay. They should have had long lives as part of our brotherhood. Nipper should have got his patch.’ And, Rook knew, Aaron shouldn’t have. In fact, he was avoiding bringing up the cop’s son because he was sure that th
at particular mistake was the one being most muttered about by his men. He couldn’t blame them. Letting Aaron effectively skip being a prospect had been pure strategy, a way to get the kid onside and ensure his loyalty. What it had actually done was foster in him a dangerous combination of arrogance and insecurity. Aaron had known the men resented his quick rise but had told himself that he had earned it. That left him believing both that he had to prove himself and that he was smart enough, special enough, to strike out on his own and wow everyone else with his genius.

  Aaron’s botched plan itself, in essence, had merit. Rook had never considered the idea of framing Cooper, but when he heard later that Aaron had spoken about it among his mates, Rook had to admit there were parts of it that made perfect sense. That it could and maybe would be the answer they needed to throw Olivia Dean off their scent. But Aaron had gone about it all wrong, so desperate was he to impress. Consequently, here they were.

  ‘Anyway,’ Rook said. ‘We’re all still standing. And we’re gonna stay that way, you hear?’

  A rumble of assent. Rook had hoped for a cheer. Once he had known exactly what to say in any situation, had excelled at speeches that got his boys revved up and bloodthirsty. But now he was tired. He was sick of the smell, of the floor wet with spilled beer, of this garbage music.

  ‘So drink up.’ He lifted his glass. ‘Drink up and remember them. Nipper and Aaron.’

  Low voices and raised glasses. ‘Nipper and Aaron.’

  The music returned. Rook sat again. He lifted his drink just as somebody slid into the chair across from him.

  She was young, dressed in a leather jacket. Her hair was dark. For maybe a second Rook assumed she was somebody’s girl, but the gashes, one above the left eye, two below, curving and swollen and only recently stitched, said otherwise. Even if one of the men had got a bit shitty with his missus, he certainly wouldn’t bring her here looking like this. Not least because they all knew how Rook felt about raising a fist to women.

  ‘Rook Gately,’ the girl said.

  Maybe she was a hooker thinking she could make some cash with the sad old bloke. If so, she was shit out of luck. He’d never cheat on Wendy. ‘Look, love, it’s been a long day and I’m sure there’s someone more fun to chat to.’

  The girl said nothing.

  And then Rook realised. The sharp cheekbones. The thin mouth. The simmer of something dangerous in those eyes. He’d seen those all before, years ago, in a different face.

  ‘Maggie,’ he said.

  A single nod.

  He should have had his gun out straight away. She had killed several of his men. But he also knew that they had tried to kill her, and beyond that, she was Eric’s daughter. And after what he had done to Eric, part of him felt he owed her.

  So, simply and directly, he said, ‘I think you’d better get out of here.’

  ‘First we’re going to talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Everything. Aaron. Cooper. My father.’

  ‘I don’t think you understand,’ Rook said. ‘Every person in this room would kill you if they figured out who you are.’

  ‘No, they won’t.’

  There was such certainty to the statement that Rook felt a crawl of worry in his gut.

  ‘My father drove himself mad trying to find a killer you covered for,’ Maggie said. ‘Who was it?’

  Instinct told Rook to deny. Common sense told him there was no point. This girl was more of a wanted fugitive than he was. Besides which, she clearly knew too much to be put off by lies. And Rook was sick of lying.

  ‘He was a kid. Mal. Young. But troubled. His dad was bad news. His mum had been on the receiving end of it for too long. Nobody ever stood up for him, until us. But . . .’ Rook shrugged. ‘Sometimes the damage goes too deep. Sometimes you’re too broken for anything to put you back together. And sometimes when you’ve been hurt too bad, the only thing you know is hurting. So he did.’

  ‘And you protected him,’ Maggie said.

  A rise of defensive heat in his chest. Rook knew he had fucked up there. Knew it because even now, years later, the ripples of his choice continued to spread. ‘When you join the gang, you become family. I don’t give up on family. I tried to help Mal. It worked for a while, then it didn’t.’

  ‘Then Cooper told you to deal with him.’

  Harrison Cooper. The most malleable of the three cops he’d bought. Until he wasn’t. Until Rook understood the extent of his mistake.

  ‘So you killed Mal,’ Maggie said.

  Cut brakes. A late-night ride together. A sharp swerve and a tree.

  ‘Yeah,’ Rook said. ‘Yeah, I did.’

  The pounding music seemed almost faint now. But the smell of petrol was worse than ever. Rook’s head swam. He raised his drink but his hand was shaking. He put it down again.

  ‘Why not earlier?’ Maggie said. ‘Why not the moment you realised what he was?’

  ‘Like I said. You don’t give up on family.’

  Maybe he’d put too much emphasis on the last word. Too much for just another gang member.

  ‘His mother,’ Maggie leaned back. ‘You were seeing his mother?’

  Wendy. Back home now. She never came out anymore. Barely had since that night. Barely did much of anything.

  Rook drank despite the shakes. Talking about this, finally, was like a long-avoided release.

  ‘I think that there’s a part of every man that’s desperate to be a father. I never had my own kids. Couldn’t.’ Once, he’d been ashamed of the fact. Now it seemed irrelevant. He couldn’t help what he was. Nobody could. ‘But, see, that didn’t mean the instinct wasn’t there. And when you get the chance. To guide someone, to shape them, to be there for them . . .’

  ‘You end up with this.’ Maggie’s expression had turned faintly disgusted as she looked around the room.

  ‘Some of the boys here were on bad paths before they found us.’

  ‘And you put them on a better one?’

  ‘Yes.’ The girl’s incredulous expression was pissing him off. ‘Just because you don’t understand—’

  ‘Harrison Cooper, dead,’ Maggie said. ‘My father, abusive, drunk and dead. Aaron, Nipper – how many others? On balance, how many of your “boys” have seen their lives demonstrably improved by joining you?’

  Rook’s drink was finished. His jaw clenched. He was sick of this conversation. He looked over towards the bar. Byrne was still there, talking to a couple of the others. If Rook caught his eye, he could have this girl dragged off and dead in minutes.

  ‘I think you’ve heard what you came for,’ Rook said. ‘And I think it’s time you left.’

  ‘Aaron Cooper,’ Maggie said. ‘You bought his debt. Won him over. Manipulated him into hating his own father.’

  ‘Harrison did that himself,’ Rook said.

  ‘And you capitalised on it. Just like now you’re planning to capitalise on Aaron’s idea.’

  Barely any change to her expression. The sounds of the bar had become unbearable, just like the petrol smell and this stupid bitch sitting across from him, needling. Under the table, Rook reached for his gun.

  ‘I think you’ve been clever, Rook,’ Maggie said. ‘Moving in the shadows, preying on people’s need for leadership and parenthood. Ensuring loyalty by pretending to provide what the wayward are looking for. But it’s smoke and mirrors, really.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Rook said.

  ‘Yes.’ Maggie nodded. ‘Yes, I do. I’m not blaming you for my father’s choices. Or mine. But I am blaming you for targeting weaknesses and then making them worse. I am blaming you for letting murderers operate with impunity. And I’m blaming you for doing it all in the name of some twisted, bullshit conception of family.’

  ‘ENOUGH!’ Rook roared.

  The voices stopped. All eyes were on them. Maggie didn’t even react as from the bar, Byrne yelled, ‘Her!’

  Rook and Maggie didn’t look away from each other, but he was aw
are of hands all around them flying to weapons, of barrels levelled at Maggie as his brothers, his family, took up arms and prepared to drop the last threat standing against them.

  Rook smiled. ‘I gave you a chance. I told you to walk out of this. For your father’s sake, I was going to let it slide. But you had to stay. You had to push. And now you know too much.’

  ‘Sure,’ Maggie said. ‘But you’re not going to do anything about it.’

  ‘I think you’ll find you’re surrounded by blokes who are more than willing to do something about it.’

  ‘Yeah. But they won’t.’

  Maggie lifted a lit zippo lighter.

  A smattering of laughter. It looked pathetic. But . . .

  Rook caught Byrne’s eye. Realisation struck them both at the same time.

  The petrol smell, heavier by the second. The wet floor. The cold fury in Maggie’s eyes.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘I’d say it’s in your best interests if everyone puts the guns down.’

  Rook shook his head. ‘You’d burn with us. You won’t drop that lighter.’

  ‘Try me.’ Her voice was hard and dangerous and absolute.

  For the first time in years, Rook’s heart had started to race. Because as he looked at this girl, he knew that there was no way to predict what she might do. Anything was possible. In all his years, he had been up against plenty of enemies whom he could anticipate or reason with, enemies who wanted the obvious and whose want could be used against them. But that wasn’t the case here.

  Rook gave a nod. The guns went down.

  ‘Now,’ Maggie said. ‘You’re going to send the women out of here. And the bartenders.’

  ‘The prospects too.’

  ‘No. They signed up for it.’

  The fire danced from the lighter. Rook wondered if he could reach it. But the risk was too great.

  ‘Send them out,’ he said.

  A rush for the door. He saw Ryan heading for it and nodded to Byrne, who caught the young bloke by the arm and pulled him back. The door swung shut as the last girl left. The bar was now maybe half as full as it had been. Even in the low light, Rook had a clear sightline to the petrol can over near the door, to the puddle spreading from it. She must have punctured the bottom then let the moving feet of the party do the rest, spreading it across the bar, the smell building by the second but nobody noticing because it was too commonplace for them. She must have slipped in and placed it while everyone drank and talked and paid her absolutely no attention.