A Dark Place to Die

by Ed Chatterton

  The following day, they break camp and drive west once more, seeing fewer and fewer vehicles. Zoe realises they've crossed the vast Nullarbor Plain, something she'd hoped to do with Koop.

  At Norseman they turn north and drive to Menzies. Zoe senses they're reaching their destination. North has been consulting his map more frequently. She was wrong about Perth.

  After Menzies, North turns off onto a dirt road and drives for almost an hour. The sun is setting as he swings the truck down a small incline and Zoe sees the salt flats stretching out in front of her. In the glow of the setting sun the white of the salt is a gleaming orange glare. It is incredible. North pulls the truck onto the salt lake itself and Zoe worries that the surface will crumble beneath them. She wonders where he's going. It's time to camp but tonight North seems to be looking for something.

  And then she sees it; in the far distance a figure, wobbling in the heat haze. As they approach she sees it is skeletal, black, hard against the flaring orange sky. She glimpses other figures and knows where she is.

  73

  Koop doesn't tell Eckhardt or Collins where he's going.

  There's no point. They'd only do one of two things: stop him, or slow him. He can afford neither. He also knows in his heart of hearts that if he tells them where he thinks North is heading, he'll be branded a grieving fool. It is, at best, a half-chance that he's right. No, not even that. But there is a chance, just a chance. The police wouldn't act on such a vague and ill-thought-out possibility. Not when North is still – on paper, at least – simply a tourist.

  Koop gets into his truck and heads north for Coolangatta and the airport. He's called ahead and booked himself onto the next flight west.

  It was Eckhardt who accidentally tipped him off. North was going to send Koop a message. Where Eckhardt was wrong was that the message has already been sent. It was – at least once Koop saw it for what it was – clear as a bell.

  Mel was the message.

  She was sliced in two not out of sadism, although Koop has no doubt he's dealing with a full-blown sadistic psychopath in Declan North, but to tell him something.

  The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living. It's a great title.

  The Hirst shark.

  The shark sliced in pieces and placed in a tank.

  The image Zoe was using for the GOMA BritArt show.

  Koop knows that North is telling him where he's taking Zoe. Doing it this way is sadistic. Koop knows North wants to kill her – if Eckhardt is on the money about North suspecting him of scamming him – and wants him to know about it. Wants him to know that this is a killer with some artistic flair.

  But Koop is gambling that the man who killed Stevie has made a mistake by assuming he won't make the connection; that it'll all be over by the time they find Zoe's body. On his iPhone he flicks through the images on Google and there it is: Antony Gormley's Inside Australia, the mirror piece to his iron men in Liverpool. Fifty-one skeletal iron figures on the salt flats of Lake Ballard.

  As Koop races for the 5 pm flight out of Coolangatta his mind sees an image: a burning figure against the desert sky.

  74

  'This is it, Zoe,' says North.

  Zoe shrinks back against the car interior. It's the first time North has used her name. For some reason it makes it more frightening.

  'Don't be stupid,' says North. 'Get out.'

  Zoe has absolutely no doubt he's going to kill her.

  Koop, Koop. Koop.

  North stands at the open door of the truck and looks in at her. He beckons, the gun held loosely in his right hand. Behind him the sun is flattening itself against the horizon and North is surrounded by a flaming blood-red halo.

  'Fuck you,' says Zoe. Tears run down her face. 'Fuck you!'

  'Come on, woman.' North is outwardly calm but Zoe can see his eyes jerking. He's been coming unstuck for days now. Four thousand kilometres on cocaine. And God knows what other demons inside that grotesque skull. He's suddenly screaming at her. Spittle flies from his mouth. 'Now, you fucking whore!'

  Zoe moves slowly towards the door, her eyes on the gun.

  Come now, Koop. Please.

  'Don't,' says Zoe.

  'Shut up.' North reaches past her into the back of the ute and she flinches.

  'Here,' says North. He flings a spade at her feet. 'Dig.'

  'What?'

  'Dig.'

  Zoe picks up the spade and pushes it into the dirt. Fat tears roll down and splash on the salt surface. He's making me dig my own grave.

  North sits on the bonnet of the ute and watches. The sky grows dark and Zoe keeps digging. When she begins widening the hole, North stops her. 'No,' he says. 'Just dig down.'

  Down?

  North switches on a torch and places it on the roof of the cab.

  After another half-hour Zoe is up to her thighs in the hole, her arms and legs aching.

  'OK, that's enough, Get out.'

  Zoe climbs out and North ropes her to the truck. He takes a scaffolding pole from the ute and places it in the hole. He releases Zoe.

  'Hold this.' North places Zoe's hands on the pole. He grabs a bucket from the rear of the cab and a bag of cement. North mixes the cement using a ten-litre container of water and pours it around the base of the pole.

  'Hold it steady.'

  North puts the bucket back into the cab.

  'What are you doing?' says Zoe. She speaks slowly and carefully, anxious not to tip North into a rage.

  'You think speaking like that's going to help, eh? Don't upset the loony,' North snorts. 'Jesus.'

  'So what are you doing?'

  'Hold it steady, woman.' North begins to strip. He takes off all his clothes and puts them in the cab. He walks around the pole and looks at it and Zoe. 'Fucking beauty.'

  'What are you doing?' Zoe is shaking.

  North stops and raises his eyebrows. It's happening and he feels the familiar tug of the earth shifting underneath him. He gives a low chuckle and rubs his fingers over the track marks on his torso.

  'You should know, Zoe. I'm sending a message to that thieving pikey of a husband of yours. The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree, eh? First the son and now the father. Both of them tried to steal from me. One's gone and I'll do the other one after I've done you.'

  'Steal? Koop didn't steal from you!' What is this lunatic talking about?

  'Is that right? Well, in that case I'll let you go.' North smirks. 'Now move away from the pole and start filling the hole.'

  Zoe pushes the dirt around the pole and North stamps it down. When he's certain it's solid he backs away and looks at Zoe.

  'You know what to do,' he says. 'Take your clothes off.'

  'He hasn't stolen anything,' she says. 'If this is about money or drugs you have to know that Koop had nothing to do with whatever this is. Nothing!'

  'Clothes. Off.' North lifts a knife from the car. 'Or I'll gut you right now.'

  Zoe can feel her breath coming fast. Tears are welling in her eyes. She slides out of her jeans and t-shirt and faces North. He takes a length of rope from the cab and nods towards the pole. 'Go kneel down and put your hands around the back.'

  'Please,' says Zoe. 'You don't have to do this.'

  'I know I don't. It's just that I want to. Now kneel down.'

  Zoe kneels against the pole and puts her hands behind her. North wraps the rope around and jerks her arms back against the pole. Zoe gasps and North locks her off with quick, measured movements. He stands and cleans himself from the big water container. When he's finished, he hoists it onto his shoulders and pours it over Zoe. The water is cold in the desert night and she feels her skin tingle. Her nipples harden, involuntarily. He spends longer cleaning her this time, his touch lingering as he washes the desert from her hands and body.

  'I like things clean,' says North and it sounds more like a mantra than information.

  He puts the water container back in the cab and approaches Zoe, a smile on his face, his penis erect
.

  'Ready?'

  Two hundred metres away, Perch's hired Serbian adjusts the settings on his night-vision goggles and tweaks the sight on his rifle.

  This looks like it will be worth watching.

  75

  Koop drives out of Perth and into the night heading east on 94 along the Great Eastern Highway. Near Southern Cross a large kangaroo crashes into his offside fender, sending the car skidding in the dirt at the edge of the road.

  Fuck it. There'll be plenty more kangaroos and Christ knows what else coming up.

  Zoe.

  He presses the accelerator on the hired 4x4 and races across the Boorabbin National Park without seeing another driver. He swings north at Coolgardie and hits Menzies less than three hours after leaving the airport. He's been signposted to the Gormley sculptures since the turn-off and has no problem locating the deserted visitor post.

  Koop rolls the car to a halt next to a post-mounted map and gets out. With the engine off, he's struck by the complete sense of isolation. There are buildings in Menzies less than thirty kilometres back along the Sandstone Road, but out here on the edge of the salt flats he could be the only man on earth.

  For Zoe's sake he's hoping he isn't.

  Koop gets back in the car and drives out onto the white salt lakes ignoring the signs that prohibit vehicles. He hopes this is a warning to protect the lake bed, and not a prediction that the surface will crumble beneath the wheels. Koop has visions of the ground opening up and him plunging down into some volcanic fissure. The land feels alien.

  About two kilometres from the road is a conical hill poking somewhat surrealistically out of the flat earth. Koop can see it clearly – a blacker triangle set against the blue-black of the night sky. He switches off his lights and idles slowly across the salt. If his hunch turns out to be correct, the last thing he wants to do now is to alert North. With the headlights out, the ground seems to glow in the moonlight, doubling the effects of the rays.

  Koop reaches the small hill and climbs, his feet scrabbling on the loose dirt and rock.

  Once at the summit he calms his breathing and scans the area, taking care to let his eyes move slowly; he doesn't want to miss anything.

  On the first rotation he sees nothing and a flutter of panic races through him like electricity. This has been a ridiculous headlong dash across the continent based on nothing more than an instinct.

  He starts turning once more and again draws a blank.

  There's nothing out there.

  Koop thinks about calling out her name and then stops himself. No. Be patient. Think like a cop.

  He decides to do one more rotation and this time catches the dimmest of glows in the west. Koop peers at it for so long his vision starts to betray him. He makes a mark in the ground at his feet and continues turning.

  He's reached about three-quarters of the way round the rotation when he hears the screaming in the distance. It sounds like an animal caught in a trap; a hellish sound from an unimaginable world of pain. He can't tell where it's coming from. The screaming lasts for almost a minute and then there's silence.

  Koop stares into the night.

  Another minute passes and then, at a slightly deviated angle from where his gaze has been, Koop hears another scream, this time a woman's.

  Koop can hardly breathe. He scrambles back to the car and careers towards the sounds.

  76

  No-one is coming.

  Not Koop, not the police, not the man in the moon. She's out here on her own.

  'Ready?' North says.

  Zoe lets her head hang, defeated. This is simply not bearable. She thinks of Menno, of Mel, of past girlfriends. Most of all she thinks of her dead Sarah.

  She feels North approach, looming over her in the glow from the torch.

  'No,' she says, her voice calmer than she thought it'd be. 'Not tonight. It's not happening.'

  North laughs. 'You think you have a fucking choice? Jesus. Look around, you dumb bitch! Blame your thieving husband for this. Not me.'

  Zoe shakes her head. 'Don't talk about my husband, you fucking repulsive psycho.'

  North smacks her hard across the face and Zoe feels her vision shift. Her jaw hurts more than she'd have believed possible. It isn't like the movies.

  North comes closer and shoves his stiffened cock at her.

  'I saw you and that Jap bitch in the tub. I watched what you did, so don't come the auld innocent with me.'

  Something knots up inside Zoe. 'I loved her!' she screams. 'Have you any idea what that feels like? No? You wouldn't, would you, you fucking cockroach!'

  'Enough,' North snaps. He takes Zoe's face in one hand and pushes his cock into her mouth. 'I like it rough.'

  Zoe closes her eyes. North pushes his penis as far back as he can and she gags.

  'You fucking love it, don't you?'

  Not tonight, thinks Zoe. Not happening. Not now.

  She opens her eyes and looks up at North. Her gaze softens. He's just a man. He feels pain just like everyone else.

  'Good girl,' he says.

  Zoe bites down hard and wrenches her head sideways in one sudden movement, her teeth clamping together. She feels North's flesh part in her mouth and he screams, a loud screeching, keening wail that doesn't sound human. She feels his hand hammer down hard on her head and still she grinds her jaws together with renewed determination, feeling his tissue shred under her sharp white teeth, his veins rip, warm metallic blood pulsing into her mouth as she jerks from side to side like a rottweiler with a rabbit. A blow hits her on the ear and she almost passes out.

  And then he rips loose from her.

  She gags, her mouth full of blood and flesh. Zoe spits and several teeth fall out.

  Along with a large part of North's penis.

  The Irishman drops to the floor, his screams increasing in panicked intensity. Blood is pouring from his groin and running out between his cupped fingers in thick gouts. He looks down disbelievingly at his crotch, the blood and mangled flesh glinting black in the moonlight.

  'You fucking cunt!' he screams.

  He staggers to his feet and punches Zoe hard in the face. The effort drops North to his knees and sends a fresh wave of searing pain through his torso. 'You fucking cunt! Look what you've done to me! Look!'

  Zoe can't hear a thing. North's blow has broken her cheekbone and popped an eardrum. Her head lolls and she feels blood trickle down her chest. She thinks she's screaming but she can't tell.

  North staggers upright again and moves painfully to the car. Sobbing, he reaches inside and pulls out the gun.

  Zoe raises her head. It feels like it weighs a hundred kilos. It feels like the connections have been broken. The universe is foggy.

  She is going to die. Zoe knows that. It was worth it.

  She breathes in the night air and thinks about Koop and about Sarah.

  'You won't make it,' she says, forcing the words out through her injuries. 'You'll bleed out before you can get help. And even if you did get help, do you really want to live like that? You're as dead as me, you stupid fuck.'

  North grips the gun with some difficulty, the grip slick with his blood.

  'You bitch. You fucking bitch.' His voice is teary, disbelieving, the frightened tone of an adolescent boy, his Belfast accent unadulterated now. Zoe fixes her eyes on him and smiles a dreadful bloody smile. North steadies his gun hand and points it at her face. His finger curls against the trigger and he squeezes.

  Koop slams into him like a stampeding buffalo as the gun goes off, missing Zoe's head by centimetres. North hits the salt flats hard, and feels his skin tear as he's crushed into the ground under Koop's weight. Koop rolls up and headbutts North savagely, feeling the man's nose shatter.

  Menno Koopman doesn't exist.

  In his place is a natural force of white-hot hatred and he slams punch after punch into North as the man bucks beneath him. Their bodies are greasy with the Irishman's blood.

  'MENNO!' screams Zoe.

&nbs
p; As if in slow motion, North's gun is coming round, the barrel turning towards Koop's back as North's blood-slicked fingers grope for the trigger. The bullet rips a shallow path through Koop's flesh as he twists away. Ignoring the flash of red pain he places North's gun arm in the crook of his elbow and breaks it. Blood bubbles in North's mouth as he screams. He's bitten through his tongue. Koop staggers to his feet and stamps hard on North's groin. This time there's no scream from North, just an awful dull groan. Covered in blood and caked in salt, Koop slips, staggering momentarily away from the wrecked figure writhing on the white surface of the flats.

  Before he can recover his equilibrium, Koop sees North twist the gun out of his smashed fingers and point it at him left-handed. Through a mask of blood, North's eyes show white. There's a feral gleam of ultimate triumph as he squeezes the trigger.

  A bullet rips through the night and takes out the top of North's head just as his own gun barks. For a millisecond his confused eyes catch those of Menno Koopman before North slumps sideways, blood pooling darkly around him.

  Disoriented, Koop jerks his head in the direction of the shot, but sees nothing. Instead his eyes focus on a silent Zoe, her head slumped, a thick line of blood running through her blonde hair and splashing onto the ground, where it joins North's blood and forms one slowly growing black lake. With a strangled sob, Koop rushes to Zoe and falls to his knees.

  A hundred metres away, Dragoslav Bregovic stands, deliberately gathers his kit into his rucksack and shoulders his rifle. He turns away from the scene and starts to retrace his steps back to his vehicle, feeling glad that he waited to fulfil his contract on the Irishman.

  That shit had been worth seeing.

  77

  'Come.'

  Keane glances at Em Harris before he pushes open the door to Perch's office. He wrestled with it before phoning her. She made the wrong choice siding with Perch but it wasn't a bad shout. In another life it might have been the call he'd have made. Pointless to rub it in any further; he and Harris have too much history to throw it away. Besides, knowing Harris, she might still end up C of C one day and Keane doesn't need any more enemies than his current abundant crop.