Mira sounded a touch grumpy when she said, 'Get into town, find out if anyone's reported the noise, make sure the cop isn't concerned.'
'What will I tell him?'
'Tell him I lost an earring and everyone's been looking for it,' Mira snapped, and Kevin smiled on the inside.
'Pig shooting?' Hunter suggested.
'And get rid of the grease monkey's car.'
That dashed Kevin's amusement. The poor bloody Commodore. He'd done it up himself. Just a bit of body damage, he reckoned. Shocks, front axle maybe; she was far from written off.
The goons hefted him, changing their grip after the delay, and carted him inside as Mira led the way. He didn't see much more than the legs of the guys carrying him and the timber floor before he was dumped on something soft. A piano melody died away, and a woman said, 'take it out', and then Nigel was looking at him, blocking his view of the ceiling rose and the modest brass chandelier hanging from its centre. Good ol' Nigel, looking like a fish out of water in his understated penguin suit. He pulled on the stake in Kevin's chest with a set of pliers. Really tugged. Kevin lifted as the stake dragged him up, then finally came free. He gasped and fell back, swallowed the urge to vomit, then looked around at the place he'd seen only in his peripheral vision. He was on a sofa, one hand and foot dangling on the floor, almost touching a massive rug in nondescript emerald and cream. Boot prints - someone hadn't wiped their feet. He sat up and coughed, using the action to hide his search for a way out. Coffee table. Elegant chairs. A fireplace, photographs lining its mantel. A stake there, wooden and black-tipped.
Some places, only the natural stuff can go, eh
He grimaced in recognition - Taipan's stake. The one his sister had used to capture him, before the Hunters had arrived and replaced it with something more elegant.
The music resumed, something slow that made him think of mourners leaving a cemetery in the rain. The piano sat near a window draped in lace, with heavier drapes pulled back to reveal a verandah and the sterile glare of the lights lining the outer fence. Seated at the piano, fingers caressing the keys, was a teenage girl - Willa. Taipan's love flowed through him unbidden, so powerful it made him groan. Beside her stood a colonial matron in white - skirt to her ankles, long-sleeved blouse, hair in a bun. No makeup. Jasmine Turner, in the flesh.
Taipan's emotions and experiences rushed over him, tumbling him like a leaf in a river. Much of Taipan's life had faded from Kevin's veins, but the greatest love and the greatest hate remained. They sat, side by side, playing - Beethoven? Someone in Kevin's blood knew the music. Maybe it was even him.
'Welcome,' Jasmine said, her clipped English accent strangely familiar thanks to Taipan's lifestream - no doubt about the source of that information. 'Drink?'
He followed her gesture and saw for the first time Mira sitting on the other side of the room, holding a glass of red - blood, if his nose was telling him the truth - before her as though she was studying its contents against the light. Kevin turned to see who was behind him - Hunter, at the door, and Nigel, carrying a silver tray with the blood-smeared spike and a crystal carafe. Nigel filled a glass from the carafe and held it out to him.
'Before it's all gone,' Jasmine urged through a false smile as she wrenched her gaze from Mira back to him.
Kevin sat up, took the drink, sipped. A-grade cow. Beggars can't be choosers, he thought, and the throb in his chest agreed. Hunger scraped at his insides, teased saliva at the whiff of the drink.
'Where's my mother?' he asked.
'Where's my Taipan?' Mira answered without looking at him. She really was beautiful, he thought, but like a car - no amount of trim could disguise the fact that it was still a machine, cold and hard and uncaring. The piano missed a note, almost stopped, but Jasmine motioned for the girl to continue, and she did, ever so softly.
'Taipan isn't coming,' Kevin told them.
'That wasn't our deal,' Mira said.
'I didn't agree to any deal.'
She looked at him, then. 'Foolish you.'
Hunter took the unfinished drink from his hand.
'I am sorry, young man,' Jasmine said. 'It's not personal, I assure you, but I really cannot tolerate another home invasion. Our Christopher is quite out of control and must be made to see reason, before he does someone an injury.' Jasmine's gaze darted to the ugly stake on the mantel, then back to him. 'I had hoped you might be more forthcoming about his location.'
He stayed silent.
'I was going to talk with you further about the matter, but the lush is most insistent she gets first bite of this particular cherry. Perhaps we will get to have a chat before you go.' She patted Willa's shoulders, an action both affectionate and possessive. Willa looked at Kevin with something like an apology.
Mira sneered and put her glass down.
Hunter motioned Kevin to stand. 'You gonna behave or do I have to ice you?'
Kevin held out his hands. He was totally outgunned. The best he could do was wait and hope. Find out where his mother was being kept and then…
Hunter grabbed one arm, Nigel the other, and they walked him from the room.
'Introductions are over,' Hunter said. 'Now it's down to business, I'm afraid.'
Behind them, the music wound down to end on two singular notes, like the sound of a church bell ringing. He'd got it wrong, Kevin realised - the mourners hadn't been leaving the funeral, but arriving.
They took him through the house to the rear verandah and outside, and for a moment he thought about breaking loose, running, but that wasn't an option. Even if he could take the two myxos, he still had to free his mother and get out of the compound. No, they wouldn't have allowed him out here if they thought he could get away.
They walked across the patchy lawn. They were on the eastern side of the house. To the south was the machinery shed he'd seen from the windmill, but now he could see inside - Nigel's panel van, Kala's Monaro, a farm four-wheel-drive, a tractor. The chopper sat on its landing pad between the house and the shed.
They stopped at a square building, some kind of tool shed or storage room made from thick wooden planks. Iron bars covered the window facing them; the door was of solid timber bound in rusted iron.
'Here you go - the guest quarters.' Hunter opened the door. 'Bed's been made.'
An earth floor gave Kevin some hope for a disappearing act, if he could only follow Taipan's mystical lead, but regardless of whether he was locked in or locked under, the fact was he'd still be locked. Still, it was something, and he'd grasp at whatever straws he could. He squinted as his eyes adjusted. Moonlight slanted in through a barred window, striping the room with parallel shadows. A sturdy single bed with bare mattress, a wooden chair, and a tall table the kind you might put a telephone on.
'Strip, then lie down,' Hunter ordered, and now Kevin saw the manacles hanging at each leg of the bed.
'I'd rather stand.'
'Take off your clothes, or I'll cut them off.'
Kevin stripped, keeping his back to the men.
'Throw these rags outside,' Hunter told Nigel, then pointed Kevin at the bed. 'Make yourself comfortable.'
Kevin laid down, biting back bitter tears as Hunter locked the cold metal around his wrists and ankles.
'Could use some curtains,' Kevin said. 'Some pictures, maybe.'
Hunter, at the door, shook his head, then gestured to one window. 'Plenty of natural light, saves on electricity. Sun comes up through that one.' He checked his watch. 'About nine hours from now, give or take.' And then, softer, almost gentle, 'You might want to consider telling Mira what she wants to know before then.'
'One thing before you get your barbecue fork,' Kevin said.
'What's that?'
'At the servo, with my old man. What happened?'
'Huh?'
'Did you kill him?'
'Well, I can't really answer that, sport. I came in and your old man was helping Taipan to do a runner. There was a scuffle, the gun went off. Your old man went down and Ta
ipan clobbered me a beauty and bolted. Then the fire came and I had to make a choice - you, him or Dave. I chose Dave.'
'I haven't seen him here.'
'He didn't make it.'
Kevin nodded. He was, perversely, almost sorry for Hunter. All that effort and his mate had died anyway. Another run on the losers' scoreboard.
Hunter paused at the door, waiting for Nigel. 'You coming?'
'I'll keep an eye on him till the main event.'
'Suit yourself.' He handed the surfie the keys and went out. 'I'm going for a smoke.'
Nigel stood close enough for Kevin to see him without lifting his head.
'So what happens now?' Kevin asked.
'One of three things, I'd think. One, they'll torture your mum. Second, they'll torture you. Or third, they'll do both.'
'How about four: you let me go? I take my mum and we never see each other again.'
Nigel dangled the keys. 'There's a fifth option, but.'
'I'm listening.'
'You tell me where the Night Riders are, them and their boss lady.'
'Why would I do that?'
'Because protecting them is a waste of time. Taipan is just using you, same as he used me. They'll just chew you up and spit you out. I saw it coming, I got out. You should do the same.'
'Join up with Mira's mob?'
'Could do a lot worse.'
'How do you figure that?'
'I'm going back to the coast. Gonna go surfing again. VS is letting me do that. One more good trip before I give up the sun for good.'
'Aren't you afraid of that wolfbite?' Kevin asked. 'Sounds pretty nasty.'
'So long as I can still hang five, it doesn't worry me.' He rubbed his face, as though feeling the pattern of redness there; Mira had been putting him to use outdoors, it seemed. 'A bit of ache and pain. It goes away soon enough, and it'll be worth it. Can't wait to hit the water.' He gave Kevin a wink. 'And the women. Can't wait to hit them, either. Nothing like a good fireside shag at the end of a day in the water. I love a woman in a bikini, don't you?'
Meg, white bikini against her brown skin, nipples pushing darkly through the saturated cloth, dew dotting her stomach, the shape of her through the knickers and his fierce, sudden erection. The taste of muddy water on her lips, the lumpy earth of the creek bank pushing through the towel, the sun blazing on his shoulder blades, then blinding him as they flip and she mounts him, the loose top flapping around her wobbling breasts as she rides him with her eyes shut and mouth open; and afterward, days after, over bacon and eggs in the café, she says with a cheeky smile, 'I had to throw those mud-stained togs out; I just couldn't get them back to white; never again, black from now on'.
I wonder what Di would've thought, seeing you here with her.
Nigel hadn't noticed his lapse, was still waxing lyrical. Some kind of confessional with the doomed man or something, just a chance to explain why he was a gutless cur, but that was really all the explanation Kevin needed.
'I was doing all right, getting up the ranks, my boss was a good sort, gave me plenty of time off to compete and I had time in the morning to catch some waves before clocking on. I was like you, a grease monkey, but it was all luxury stuff where we were, dude, the Surfers Paradise chardonnay set, you know what I mean? The "beautiful people", as Aussie Crawl would say. You probably never heard of them, eh? Old school, now. Doesn't even get played on the radio out here; it's all Slim Dusty and that boot-scootin' crap, right? I hate this backwater, man.'
Wanker, Kevin thought. Everyone knew Aussie Crawl, even if it was only Reckless; even if they couldn't understand the words. Why hadn't Hunter taken Nigel with him?
He was still talking. 'Up the coast, just chillin', this little beach where no-one goes, and there they are. You can't blame me, can you? I mean, that Penny's a right bitch but she's a hot little sort, and Kala, well, that half-caste skin…'
Kevin runs from the school bus into the garage because Dad's working on a vintage Chevy for the man up the road who has an old-time museum with a mail truck and a fire engine and a whole shop of bottles, all different shapes, white and green and even purple, but the Chevy, she's a real beaut, and he tells Dad as he's passing him ratchets about the new kid in class, from down south, and how a kid said he was a half-caste, and his father appears out of the Chevy's innards with a look that freezes the smile on Kevin's face, and says, 'We don't use that term, it's derogatory', and Kevin asks, 'What's doggatory mean?', and his father says, 'It's what you wish people wouldn't say to you if you was them', and Kevin says, 'Well, what is he then?', and his father says, 'He's a young fella at a new school who'd probably like a friend'
'…a camper van, one of those old Vee Dubs that just never say die, and it's getting on to sundown and we're talking the talk and they're stoking the fire and I'm thinking I'm in backpacker heaven, and then, suddenly, Taipan's there. Got no idea where he came from - one minute I'm making pretty with the girls and the next there he is, shaking sand out of his hair and saying, what's this then, and Kala says, he's good with cars, and Taipan says to me, can you fix that heap of junk? Of course I can, right? I get the old clunker to the next town where they can trade up, so to speak, and the very next night the gang's all there and I'm in.
'They're on the road all the time, the Night Riders. They need a good mechanic, more than anything, and I was - am - a bloody good mechanic. But I never got Kala and I never got Penny, just cups of brew. For months. Years. Just brew.
'And then Taipan turned up at that farmhouse doing that shadow walk shit and said he'd got a new fang coming in, a mechanic - that'd be you, dude - and that's when I knew my time was up.
'I had to pick a side that'd pick me. So I made a call. You were the straw that broke this camel's back, man. I just wanted you to know that.'
Nigel leaned closer, a hint of desperation in his eyes.
'So how about it? Tell me where the Riders are and I'll put in a good word with the boss. Because at the moment, you haven't got any friends at all; you're just bait.'
'If you think they're coming for me, you're wrong. I left 'em. I came here for my mum and none of them would help me. So it's all been for nothing. But thanks for the story, Nige.'
'I heard you had Kala with you. They're out there now, hunting for her.'
'They've already had their shot at her and it got them nothing. She's got no more idea where Taipan or Danica is than I do.'
'That's too bad.' He poked Kevin's chest, making the freshly puckered scar of the stake wound pain. 'The Strigoi sure put a hole in you, didn't she? Taking its sweet time healing, too. You must be one hungry dude right about now.' He looked at the window. 'She'll probably put a few more holes in you before sunrise.'
Nigel slumped back into the chair.
'You ever wonder why Taipan didn't just shadow walk in there the first time? Maybe straight into his sister's brain, even? I'll tell you. Coz he wanted to get caught. He wanted an end to it. He's suicidal. Too much sun. That's why I reckon he's gonna come after you. Revenge is a great excuse for suicide. Noble sacrifice and all that.'
'I think you're giving him too much credit.'
Nigel snorted. 'Maybe.' He stroked his chin. 'So what's she like, that Kala? You must've bagged her if she came with you.'
Kevin turned away, not wanting to give the surfie the pleasure of seeing just how much he wanted to tear his heart out.
'Bet that pissed Taipan off, her running off with you. Got a real problem, hasn't he? First his sister, then his moll. Yeah, I bet he's real pissed. Maybe enough to do something stupid. Something heroic.'
'You'd better hope he isn't, because I figure the guy who sold him out will be right on top of his shit list.'
'Maybe. I wonder if that puts me before or after you?'
The surfer cackled and Kevin turned back to the wall, and after a bit, Nigel took an mp3 player from his pocket and plugged in.
'Just wiggle a toe if you change your mind about saving your hide,' he said before turning up the volume. In
decipherable warbling hissed from the headphones.
At least Kala had got away. Kevin prayed that Meg had listened to him and was already on the road to somewhere safe, too. He had to hand it to Taipan, though; he'd had his doubts about Nigel the whole time and turned him into a self-fulfilling prophecy. He'd needed a new mechanic and, even there in the servo, with a stake in his chest and Hunter holding a gun on him, he'd been planning ahead. Too bad it had all come to a dead end.
FORTY-SIX
The door opened. Mira. Now he was for it. She signalled with a toss of her head for Nigel to leave. The door slammed shut. The lock clunked home. Mira whisked her hooded 'Bone from her shoulders and folded it neatly on the chair. She'd exchanged her armour for a long skirt and singlet, too flat to need a bra but shapely just the same, and excited, too, if those headlights she was high-beaming were any gauge. Kala's earring dangled in her left lobe. She swaggered over and stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers. She smelled fresh, lush. He saw himself in her eyes - a corpse in a television cop show, waiting to be sliced open.
'Have a good chat with young Nigel there?'
Kevin kept his mouth shut.
'He didn't hurt you? I'd be upset if he had.' Her fingers trailed across his chest. 'You are way over-dressed, Grease Monkey.' She snapped the pendant from his chest. 'So out of date. Here, have you seen mine?' She reefed down one side of her singlet to reveal a five-pointed star inside a circle tattooed on her left breast. The tat had the same silvery-iron colour as those of Bhagwan's offsiders. The ink seemed to move, like coolant through a clear hose. 'Traditional pattern put to a new use.' She traced the shape with a fingernail.
Kevin looked her in the eyes.'Your tits are quite small.'
'I don't think you're the man to be making size insults.' She smoothed her singlet to cover the ink and tucked his pendant into her slight cleavage, then leaned over him.
'Of course, it's not what you've got but how you use it.' She stroked the wound her stake had left in him, like trailing her fingers through water. 'Does it still hurt?'
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