A Conundrum

by P. J. Peacock

  After leaving the office, they had tried all Justin’s old haunts, bookshops they knew he should have visited if he’d really been looking for an antique book, but he had not been seen at any of these in the last few weeks, let alone days. He obviously didn’t want to be found easily.

  Gabriel brought his thoughts back to the present, and looked across at this brother, a slow smiled dawned. ‘You would think in this day of immediate communication that Justin would at least answer an SMS, but the bastard hasn’t changed one bit. I’ve been trying since I left London to get an answer from him.’

  Martin grinned in return. ‘I’m looking forward to catching up with the old reprobate. He will probably be pissed as usual, but that has never affected that razor sharp mind of his.’

  Gabriel pulled himself from his reverie with a suggestion of food. Neither of them had eaten since leaving the airport that morning. They had been moving too fast, so now they contemplated the dubious menu chalked up on the board. There was always the possibility that the standard had improved over the intervening years, but looking around at the few actually dining, it didn’t look hopeful.

  Martin grinned at him again. ‘Maybe we could get a sandwich at least.’ He signalled to the waitress then the two of them settled down to wait.

  Chapter Five

  The Waterhole

  The two girls wandered outside. It was a beautiful morning, clear and cool, but the day would heat up very quickly. Bede headed for the shed, running. ‘Let’s go for a ride. Now!’

  Suddenly, she was anxious to be away from the homestead, away from Meredith and her fears and anxieties, into the open spaces that she loved so much.

  Hera called, ‘Wait for me!’ And they were both running, laughing joyously toward the open shed where their old battered trail bikes lived. This had been their escape from the time they were big enough to manage the controls.

  Bede sat for a moment looking toward the hills in the distance. This was the wheat belt. It was flat and beautiful, and the colours had always fascinated her. The air so clear and clean, not a lot of bird sounds at this time of the day, but the horizon shone in the distance. It was possible to look from horizon to horizon. It was so flat, so clear one could see the curve of the earth. The hills in the distance were almost purple with the reflection from the brilliant blue sky. Bede drew a deep breath and allowed herself to relax at last.

  No matter what Meredith feared, or thought she feared, she was at home on her trusty steed, heading toward the horizon fast on a straight line. This was the equivalent for her of following the reflection of the moon straight out to sea.

  Hera shouted and whooped. She had her companion and best friend back. They could explore, laugh, drive fast and dangerously, and recapture some of the exuberance of carefree youth. Hera had missed Bede dreadfully. It had been essential that Bede take over the offices in Perth and Sydney. She had the best head for figures and business, while Hera’s strength lay in the propagation of the various plants, but they had always been very close. Meredith needed help running the business here, and keeping all the staff on track. So now, Hera spent most of her time on the property, while trying to finish her master’s degree online from Curtin University in Perth.

  They both missed their wonderful father. He had been the one with enormous reserves of energy and drive, never too tired to help with a word of encouragement when needed. Now, they seemed to be on their own, struggling to find an anchor point from which to function effectively. Not able really to reconnect with that solid reality of family. Perhaps, it was the lack of a strong male to balance out the three strong females. Whatever, it was great to have Bede back home if only for a few days.

  Today, they would leave the anxiety behind and head out to the hills, swim in their favourite waterhole, build a fire, and sit and talk, as they had always done in the past. Some of Hera’s dreams had been really disturbing, and she hadn’t shared all of them with Meredith. There was a strange sensual element to them, but definitely not sexual in content. It was more an awareness of the sensual elements of colour and texture, heat and cold, open spaces, and strange plants—species she had never seen before—but the details were engraved on her mind. She could still see some of them, and even knew somehow within herself the possible medicinal properties of each new plant. Talking to Bede would help her sort out whether these dreams were an extension of her research, or something else entirely.

  Hera felt they had to protect Meredith from the other-worldly elements suggested in both hers and Bede’s dreams. There had to be an explanation for the alien elements of her thought processes lately, and she didn’t think it was the ‘Dr Who’ complex Meredith accused her of. There were no other world monsters in her dream world, not even other world places. It was always so familiar. It was difficult to convey this in words, but whether it was really communication from another sphere, nudges from their subconscious of something observed but not processed, or just weird longings buried for too long. Hera knew she and Bede needed to talk, to discuss impressions, and basically look at it objectively, then probably just let it go because what could they do with the strangeness of the thoughts and images until, and if, they became concrete?

  This other element of the Family Meredith had introduced into the mix just added more confusion and seemed to muddy her thoughts. At the moment, the day was perfect, the air clear, they could strip, swim, and relax knowing there was no one nearer than the farm and that was many kilometres west.

  They swam and talked not about the dreams, but about the past, the fun and challenge of their early school days, the trips they had made overseas with their parents in the long summer breaks. They talked about their gap years overseas, and their various romances when they were young, putting the anxiety about the last few weeks behind them.

  Relaxing in the shade of her favourite River Red Gum, and watching the bees busily working away, Bede thought she could lie there forever. It was so peaceful. She allowed her thoughts to drift back to those early trips; there hadn’t actually been many white Christmases. There had been skiing for Hera and herself, clumsy on their first slope, and only one year with the family with many cousins speaking French, German, and Czech.

  The family was the reason given their schooling had to encompass languages, but for them, it needed only be French and German. Bede remembered their mother laughing at their inability to pronounce the incomprehensible Czech. Then suddenly, they had stopped going overseas, but French and German had still been an essential part of their education. At home, for as long as she could remember, there had been the ‘French days’ and the ‘German days’ when they were only allowed to speak in the respective language.

  Hera lazily turned on her side. ‘Do you think the strange guy in your dreams could have been one of those obnoxious cousins we met that one time we spent in Paris with seemingly endless relatives? I can’t remember how old I was.’ She rolled back onto her back. ‘They stayed with Aunt Helena and were scathing about our accents. Do you remember what they looked like?’

  ‘No, I remember one was darkish and one had fair hair, I think, but they were so snooty. They were a fair bit older than us, both at high school, and were the most arrogant of all the cousins there. There was something arrogant about the guy in my dreams that’s all, the same sort of arrogance.’

  Hera surged suddenly to her feet. ‘Time for another swim, last one in’s a rotten egg,’ and shrieking wildly, she ran for the water.

  Chapter Six

  Tretters

  Gabriel glanced up quickly as Justin walked through the door. He was a handsome devil, this uncle of theirs, with his lean frame, silver hair, and patrician features. He exuded a refined elegance. Amber and gold rings gleamed on his long tapered fingers. One had to look hard to see the dangerous edge beneath the surface. There was magnetism about him that women found irresistible, Gabriel thought, even now.

  Justin saw them immediately, waved, and
headed for their table. His thoughts were running chaotically through his mind. He took a long breath to remain calm, and fixing a smile of welcome on his face, moved across to join them. They had been summoned immediately, Stefan lost track of him. Justin knew they had been looking for him—his brother’s only children. He loved them both, as if they were his own. He really didn’t want to involve them in this—the latest of the Family’s folly.

  The Family, he fumed. It was so huge, scattered, and corrupt with more tentacles than an octopus. There was no continent where it could be said there was no representative, no major multinational company without a senior member of the Family high in administration or sitting on the board. The Family, so secretive and deadly, the name still spoken in whispers, was like a combination of European monarchy and the Sicilian Mafia. They kept the bloodlines pure and encouraged hubris in all, particularly the males. All were instructed early in secrecy and concealment. They kept the mystery of whom and what they were from all outsiders. They managed to keep a low profile, nothing in the newspapers, or the underground press; and mostly, they drew a line at murder, mostly. But there had been that time recently in Berlin when they had killed one of their own, and now, there was a question about what had really happened to James on his boat.

  James was too good a sailor to have been careless with the maintenance on his beloved ‘Penelope’. He still had nightmares about the Berlin execution even though it had obviously been necessary. Fabien was a homicidal maniac. He had been totally out of control and had endangered several family members before being finally tracked down and eliminated.

  Fabien was a cousin, and there had been many who had advocated a private sanatorium, but that had already been tried and he had escaped. A more permanent solution was needed. The maniac had killed three young girls, but was far too clever to leave any clues, and the police were useless. Besides, the Family would never have countenanced his arrested. The Family took care of their own ‘dirty laundry’, and this was not the time to appear weak or vacillating. It had been done quickly, but now, he was not happy. There were rumblings within the Family, and he worried about the repercussions. There had always been an assassin in each generation, but now, in the twenty-first century, that knowledge was strictly need-to-know. The patriarch or the executive were the only ones to issue the directives.

  The training was secret, extensive, and no one knew exactly who was chosen. He thought that at the moment, there could be as many as three fully trained. They were a fit healthy lot, and the Patriarch was only seventy. So there could well be someone from that generation, plus two more, with the youngest being in his early twenties. It was a little chilling to meditate on. He wondered if they compared notes, or had some sort of support group going, it would make a sort of macabre sense.

  He drew a long breath. He must be totally out of his mind with worry to be speculating on that aspect of the family business. He was ‘the fixer’, or rather, he had been the fixer. Anything that came to the notice of the patriarch likely to cause a scandal of any sort, any negative aspect that might get into the newspapers, or even any family squabble that was getting out of hand, Justin was called in to mediate or to send in the heavies if necessary. Lately, though, he was aware that his nephews were called in first. He was near retirement, if one could ever retire from the Family. This latest problem didn’t fit into any of his normal areas of expertise. Not something he could smooth over with charm.

  A book had surfaced, an antique book that apparently had information about the origin of the Family in Europe in the early seventeenth century. He speculated that there were references to current members that could be dangerous. They had been a ruthless lot, and in truth, if you scratched the surface, not much had changed. But their historians had always made sure they acquired everything that even mentioned the Family, so where had this book come from? And who had it now?

  He was tracking rumours, and he realised he’d made a mistake not keeping the patriarch in the loop, so now, the two boys had been called in. Stupid, short-sighted, and arrogant of him, both Gabriel and Martin were too intelligent and knew him too well not to start asking questions as soon as they found him. He had known they would be at Tretter’s, drinking beer, and waiting for him to arrive. There was nothing he could do to prevent their involvement now, but perhaps he could keep it minimal. He needed to tell them enough to assuage their curiosity, but not enough for them to grasp the disastrous implications. He did need their help. They both had contacts from their time at university that could be extremely useful.

  It was late and cold, and he was hungry and tired. Now, he looked at the two of them sitting there across the room with grins on their faces. He felt a surge of pure possessive pride when he saw them. They were his brother’s sons, but they could easily have been his own. He too had loved their mother, but she had rightly chosen Dominik, much more stable, honourable and reliable. He had never managed to find a permanent replacement for her though; she still occupied a very special place in his heart.

  They were tall and lean, a family trait, Gabriel with the dark chestnut hair so prevalent in the family, and Martin with the fine fair classic features and the soft blonde hair of his mother.

  Gabriel was the first to spot him, and his harsh dark face lit with a smile of pure mischief. Gabriel looked across at their father’s identical twin. He was, in many ways, the complete opposite of his brother. He was grinning at them, his eyes sparkling. There was something of the gypsy in him, a family trait, thought Justin sourly.

  He felt his heart lurch. He knew they both possessed the same strength and stubborn determination that ran like a fever through all the members of their impossible extended family. He feared for them. He plastered a welcoming smile on his face and moved toward their table with the effortless grace of a younger man. He schooled his features into one of open delight to see them. He would keep them safe at all costs, and that meant that for tonight, he would wait. He was very good at waiting, waiting to see what they would reveal about what they knew. He hadn’t seen the boys, men, he corrected himself, for two years and was not sure exactly what role they played now. He had a sudden premonition that it would turn out to be more than he would like or even approve of.

  Martin grabbed his outstretched hand, pulled him into a bear hug, while Gabriel was slapping him on the back. They were delighted to catch up with him finally.

  ‘Where the devil have you been you, old reprobate,’ Martin asked, while grasping his shoulder and almost shaking him.

  ‘Hands off you two, and let’s sit down.’ Justin looked closely into their eyes and had a moment of intense fear. They had changed in the last two years. There was hardness about the two of them now that hadn’t been there two years ago.

  He drew a long, slow breath and kept his features relaxed and smiling. He would have to be very careful; they would not appreciate his trying to muddy the investigation. Gabriel, in particular, was looking at him with those piercing eyes of his. He had always been the more sensitive of the two of them, and was also the more perceptive. He used his intuition as well as his powerful intellect in most situations. This was probably a legacy of being so badly devastated all those years ago by Kamila. Still, it had been a lesson well learned. He took nothing for granted now, and his speculations were always tempered with facts.

  Justin allowed himself to be pressed into the vacant chair at the table. He grinned at them, but avoided eye contact and demanded a beer immediately. ‘Well, I have to say you both seem larger than the last time I saw you. Have they put growth hormones into the beer in London and Istanbul?’

  ‘No, Uncle Justin, we just appear to be larger because of the anxiety and frustration building within caused by a recalcitrant uncle who seems to be not only trying to avoid us, but now seems to be trying to obfuscate the investigation of whatever it is we are investigating,’ he paused and raised one eyebrow.

  Justin looked at Martin. ‘Ahh, I see. Now I be
come Uncle Justin. Martin, I apologise, let’s start again. All right, I admit I have been avoiding you both. I was hoping to find the bloody book before you two were called in or at least actually arrived. I strongly advised against it to both the committee and to the patriarch. I wanted you kept out of it.’

  ‘Explain the bloody book, Justin. And also, what exactly are we to be kept out of? We have been given a lot of guff, told nothing that makes any sense, told to find you. “It’s a matter of the utmost urgency, Justin will explain.” Now explain!’ Gabriel growled in frustration.

  ‘A please would be nice,’ Justin glanced at the two of them, sighed, and accepted the inevitable. ‘Okay, the bloody book is apparently an embarrassment, or a possible embarrassment to the Family. It’s very old, dating from around the early seventeenth century, hence, my sudden interest in antique books. It’s supposedly a record of the Family beginnings written by the first patriarch. I don’t believe in either the supposed age or the provenance of the book. But there is a mystery, and it is potentially dangerous. It’s a particularly sensitive time at the moment, given the disaster of both Australia and Berlin. I take it you both know what happened? Do you have any idea of the potential disaster it would be if either of those two girls in Australia realised their father had been murdered? And by whom?’

  Gabriel growled, ‘That was the most arrogant and unnecessary piece of mismanagement I have ever heard of. James was not a threat, and the patriarch knew that, so did most of the executive, so who actually sanctioned the assassination?’