02 Heller's Revenge - Heller

by JD Nixon

  Maria came out about five minutes past the starting time to a polite round of applause. She wasn’t the one the audience had come to see. She spoke eloquently for a short time about Meili, his life and achievements and then introduced him to the stage. The applause was thunderous, and he came out modestly, waving vaguely to the crowd, completely endearing. He was dressed casually in jeans and a light blue button-up shirt, but he had left his hair loose, possibly a strategic decision because I could see every female around me eyeballing him lustily.

  I knew he had notes with him, but he didn’t seem to refer to them once. He entertained us with a light-hearted and extremely amusing talk for an hour and thirty minutes, speaking mostly about his adventures. As he did, he showed a various assortment of hair-raising, heart breaking and downright personally embarrassing slides along the way. But he finished his talk with a sad silent series of disturbing shots showing animals being maimed and tortured in the name of science, rivers and fertile land across the world being permanently despoiled by big business and humans in the most abject poverty and misery you could possibly imagine.

  “Most speakers prefer to end their talks on a high note. But I prefer to end with the brutal reality of what is happening on this planet right now as you sit here congratulating yourselves for being so righteous and liberal for coming today to listen to my little talk.” He stared at the audience, a burning intensity in his eyes, and there was complete silence across the theatre. I swear nobody was game to fidget or cough. I know I wasn’t. “I say to you today, don’t just be a listener. Be a doer. We can all do our bit to help. All of us. No matter how small.” He raked us with his burning eyes again, before smiling congenially, taking a little of the sharpness from his words. “Peace be with you all. Good afternoon friends, and thank you for coming.” And then he was finished and the entire lecture theatre collectively released their breath and burst into spontaneous applause that lasted for a good couple of minutes.

  He was detained on the stage for another hour afterwards, a crowd wanting his attention. He answered questions, signed autographs, fobbed off a few eco-groupies. I hung around patiently, not getting in the way. He noted my presence with a wry smile, before returning to the crowd to answer a question about what it was like to see a whale being slaughtered.

  “What’s it like?” he repeated, staring at the stupid girl who had asked the question, his face hard and uncompromising. “It makes you diminish as a human being to watch the last thrashing movements of such a beautiful and intelligent animal. It makes you wonder which of us is truly the animal and which is the higher being.” That shut the poor girl up quick smart and she slunk away, red-faced.

  There were a lot of questions on whale hunting. It was a big topic of concern in this part of the world as it happened directly in our neighbourhood, against the wishes of most of us. He was patient and friendly with everyone, even when I could see that stubborn or ignorant people were testing his temper. Eventually though the admirers and the curious petered out and left, only Maria, him and me remaining in the vast lecture room.

  “So,” said Maria, getting straight to the point, her eyes flicking between us, “are you two going out?” She seemed hopeful.

  “No Maria,” Meili told her in a serious voice. “Tilly’s with me to bear witness.”

  Maria stared at me, her optimistic smile collapsing. “Oh,” was all she was able to say. “I’m sorry to hear that. I thought . . .”

  “You thought incorrectly,” he said gently, squeezing her shoulder. I threw her a ‘weirdest-thing-I’ve-ever-done’ kind of look and shrugged apologetically.

  When Meili went off to refresh himself, we chatted casually for a while before I decided to speak openly.

  “You looked so pleased to think that Meili might be dating again. Am I right?” I asked her bluntly.

  “Tilly, you have no idea how happy I would be to hear that. Inge’s death was such a devastatingly cruel blow to him. They were made for each other. Absolutely perfect. Soul mates. It was almost as if he died alongside her, because he hasn’t been the same man since she was murdered.” She blinked rapidly, her eyes teary. “I loved Inge. Everyone did. She was so warm and caring and beautiful. Meili absolutely adored her – you could see it in his face. His eyes lit up when she was around. He couldn’t hide it. He was desperately in love with her.” Another fierce bout of blinking. “But I would be thrilled to the core to know he was in love again, wanting to embrace life, instead of all this fucking ‘bear witness’ crap he’s got into his brain. It’s as if he’s just waiting to die!”

  She turned away, too upset and angry with her friend to continue.

  I rested my hand on her shoulder and pressed lightly. “I’m so sorry, Maria. It’s a very difficult situation, even for me as a stranger, but I want to do the best that I can for him. He’s a wonderful man. I can see that and I only met him yesterday.”

  “Thanks Tilly. He’s so afraid of dying alone like poor Inge. She must have been terrified. The man, or men, who killed her . . . assaulted her first. The police thought there might have been more than one person involved. She knew what was going to happen to her. After they . . . used her, they played with her, shooting her in the leg and then in the arm, before killing her with a shot to the forehead. Meili can’t forgive himself because he wasn’t there to protect her. He was on an anti-whaling ship when she died. In the middle of the ocean somewhere, nowhere nearby. He blames himself for everything.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes determinedly. I felt like wiping a few from my own.

  Meili rejoined us and Maria forced a smile onto her face and brightly suggested that she take the two of us for coffee. She led us to one of the campus’ cute little coffee shops.

  It was full of lounging students who seemed in no hurry to go to classes, but we managed to find a small table and dragged an extra chair over to seat the three of us. We chatted generally for ages, having a few refills, Meili approached a few times by students for his autograph. Maria stood up reluctantly after checking her watch, needing to leave for a meeting. I shook her hand, and she and Meili exchanged another affectionate hug.

  “See you in a few days,” she reminded him and we watched her rush away.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested, so I agreed and we left the campus and made our way back to the harbour again.

  “That was a great talk, Meili. I really enjoyed it,” I said sincerely.

  “Thanks, Tilly. It always amazes me how many people turn out to hear me speak about myself. It’s quite humbling, really. I’m not that interesting.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re probably the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

  “There’s that famous Chalmers’ charm again,” he teased and I smiled up at him.

  We walked aimlessly for a long time. He admitted that he was always full of nervous energy after a public speech and liked to work it out through exercise. When he mentioned the word ‘work’ though, I immediately thought of Heller. I stepped to one side, guiltily whipping out my phone to ring him, looking around anxiously for his personal SWAT team, hoping they weren’t about to besiege us.

  “It’s me,” I said redundantly.

  “I know. How’s it going?”

  “Touching, emotional. What did you expect?”

  “Matilda, don’t become personally involved,” he warned, his voice hard.

  “Too late,” I told him and hung up.

  Chapter 21

  “Problem?” Meili asked.

  “Nope, everything’s fine,” I replied with a smile, resolutely cheerful.

  “Good,” he said, equally cheerful. “Maria told me about a great place for us to eat tonight. I hope you’re hungry.” And surprisingly, I was.

  After our long walk, we made our slow way back to the hotel. We had time to shower again and lounge around for a while, me reading my thriller after checking my texts and emails, and him spending a long time chatting on the phone in Norwegian to a friend. Then we readi
ed ourselves and headed out to dinner.

  He took me to a lovely little French restaurant, hidden down a narrow arcade, probably the most romantic place I’d ever eaten at. It was small and intimate, no more than ten tables, plenty of space between them all, lights low, candles on the table tops, seductive music playing softly, the plaintive vocals sung softly in French. We looked at each other when we stepped inside.

  “Um, Meili, Maria might have recommended this restaurant to you before she realised we weren’t dating?” I suggested after I’d been attentively tucked into my chair by the maitre d’, who then fussed around, placing my napkin on my lap, filling up my water glass and handing me a menu with a flourish.

  He pondered for a minute, glanced around and pulled a sheepish face. “I think you’re right, Tilly. Sorry. I’m not trying to seduce you or anything. Frankly, after the warning Heller gave me, I wouldn’t dare!”

  “Don’t worry about it. As long as the food’s great, I’m okay,” I assured.

  And, by God, the food certainly was great. In fact it was sensational, every mouthful a gift from the gods. I never wanted that meal to end. I ate so much garlic that night that no man on earth would have gone anywhere near me, not even for money. He did the same though, so I wasn’t worried about offending him with my overpowering breath.

  Afterwards, heading back to the hotel, I exclaimed for the millionth time over the meal, and thanked him heartily for paying for me yet again. He brushed my thanks away and tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. I was more than glad to hang onto his arm for the rest of the way home, having consumed more than one glass of the wonderful red wine.

  We did the bathroom shuffle again on our return and both were happy when our heads hit our pillows. I gave Heller a quick and perfunctory phone call before I did though, to let him know I was still alive and okay. I didn’t chat but hung up as soon as possible, yawning my head off.

  Next morning was a repeat of the previous. We jogged, showered and ate breakfast in the restaurant. He was due at court that day to answer to charges of trespassing and vandalism following his little stunt at the cultural centre, so dressed appropriately in a charcoal suit, pale green shirt and darker green tie. He tied his hair back neatly. I dressed in an emerald skirt suit with a crisp white blouse, hair up neatly as well.

  He was meeting his lawyer at the courthouse fifteen minutes before the trial. On the walk over, he told me that he intended to plead guilty.

  “But you might go to jail!” I said, worried.

  “I don’t think so. I’ll probably receive a fine or community service or both. Jail would be okay though. Great publicity for me,” he responded casually. I shot him a disbelieving glance, but before he could respond, we had turned the corner to the block where the law courts were situated, to find a barrage of media lounging around the front of the court, waiting for someone or something.

  “For you?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Possibly. It’s a fairly high profile case. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  And he was right because the very second one of the reporters spotted him walking towards the court, he came running down the street to us, his camera crew hastily trailing after him.

  “Dr Eriksen? Meili? How do you intend to plead today?” he shouted, instantly alerting the other reporters. And soon Meili and I were mobbed by the media, microphones and cameras shoved in our faces, people pressing against us, jostling us. We struggled slowly through the scrum, pushing our way towards the courthouse. In their eagerness to snatch a sound bite from him, they were less than considerate of me. One rude reporter, with big blonde hair and a hard face, actually pushed me away from him, her palm in my chest, so that she could take the advantage of standing right next to him to ask him some pointless question.

  He noticed we had separated and stopped suddenly, causing a minor media pile up behind him, and waited for me to catch up, grasping my hand firmly. We pushed through together until we reached the door of the courthouse and Meili’s lawyer joined us. Then Meili turned to the media and gave a short statement in a confident, clear voice, still holding my hand. In his enchanting accent, he politely apologised to everyone who had been inconvenienced by his actions. He advised the media that he intended to plead guilty, but didn’t regret what he had done as it brought public attention back to the fate of the whales. And with that, we headed inside the courthouse.

  Inside, Meili introduced me to his lawyer, Alex Landry, a handsome, well-dressed man in his late forties, with neat salt and pepper hair and large liquid chocolate eyes. He cut me a curious look and a brief smile as we shook hands, and I stepped aside as the two men discussed their strategy. We were approached by a small group of people and I was introduced to Meili’s co-defendant in the charges, a small, dark man, who had his lawyer in tow as well.

  The whole hearing was over surprisingly quickly, as both men pleaded guilty to all charges. Each was fined $10,000, placed on a twelve-month good behaviour bond and ordered to reimburse the city for the cost of the cleanup of the centre. Leaving the courthouse, the men were set upon by the media again. Meili’s lawyer gave them a few words and we sped off as fast as possible, chased for only a couple of blocks before the press gang gave up. Meili took Alex and me to a stylish restaurant for lunch.

  “What are you doing tomorrow, Meili?” Alex asked as the waiter scattered freshly grated Parmesan on his lobster pasta.

  Meili looked at me. “Nothing planned. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be in court so kept it free.”

  “Good. Sali and I are taking the run-around out on the ocean tomorrow, maybe stay overnight, do a spot of fishing. Interested?”

  “Only if Tilly’s invited as well? I take her everywhere with me.” He smiled at me. “We’re inseparable.” I smiled back at him.

  A long, curious glance from Alex. “Of course. Tilly, you’re most welcome to join us.”

  “Thanks Alex. Sounds fun.”

  “Excellent. We’ll pick you up from your hotel at ten tomorrow morning.”

  “Done,” said Meili and we left the restaurant, farewelling Alex and walking back to the hotel. Meili’s phone rang and he took the call. While he did so, I gave Heller a quick ring to let him know the outcome of the court case.

  “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?” he asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Whatever Meili wants to do. Probably something fun. Talk to you later.” My phone calls with him were becoming shorter and shorter.

  What Meili wanted to do was hire some bikes and go cycling, but he told me that his phone call had been from the country’s only serious current affairs program, shown on the national broadcaster. They wanted Meili to do a pre-recorded interview for the night’s show.

  “Should I?” he questioned.

  I shrugged. “I guess all publicity is good publicity for you, isn’t it?”

  He rang them back and agreed to be interviewed. They asked him to come to the studio straight away, so we hailed a taxi and directed it to the station’s studio.

  It wasn’t a hostile interview, the show’s host, a renowned journalist, obviously sympathetic to Meili’s goals but asking a couple of tough questions about the vandalism. Meili calmly repeated what he had said outside the courthouse. He apologised again for the inconvenience and any damage, but didn’t apologise for doing it in the first place. I stood to the side and watched, impressed with his confidence and poise. He made a great impression on the host.

  There was still time after the interview to fit in a bike ride. We quickly changed at the hotel and hired some bikes and gear from the same booth we’d used the day before. I led him to a great bike path that stretched the entire distance of the harbour, from the city to the bay. It was a long ride there and back, taking several hours, but it was a good release from the rest of the day’s activities. The sun was shining, it wasn’t too hot and I enjoyed the afternoon and the view.

  That evening we dined casually in the hotel restaurant.

  “What
do you live on, Meili?” I asked him, my curiosity getting the better of me as usual.

  “I’m sponsored by a few conservation groups, which gives me a small regular income. Then there are donations from the public and some large bequests in supporters’ wills. I earn a little money from public speaking on occasion, although I mostly give my talks for free, as I did yesterday. I’m offered some academic work now and then and also grants for ecological research. I manage to scratch by.” He smiled as he sipped on his wine. “I freeload off my friends a lot too. In fact this trip, including the cost of your services, is being paid for by some local benefactors who wish to remain anonymous. You’d be surprised where my financial support comes from. It’s often very rich people, including a lot of celebrities, who need some salve for their consciences at earning so much money for doing so little.”

  After dinner we returned upstairs to watch the broadcast of his interview. He came across very well, not fanatical in the slightest, but rational, caring and intelligent. He answered the interviewer’s questions calmly, with an attractive dose of self-deprecating humour. Nobody would have judged him as an eco-terrorist on the basis of that interview.

  He suggested we catch a movie that evening and we spent the next couple of hours goggling at the latest Hollywood action blockbuster, riveted by the explosions, car chases and beautiful people in terrible trouble. We argued good-humouredly about whether the movie had any deeper meaning the entire walk back to the hotel. It was quite late by the time we returned. I reassured Heller of my continuing survival in a five second phone call, cutting him off to hang up and hit the sack immediately, not wanting to read even a single page of my book. Meili was already fast asleep by the time I hung up and turned off my bedside lamp.

  The prospect of staying overnight on a small boat was incredibly exciting for me, as I’d never had the opportunity before. My sole seafaring episode had been a weeklong cruise on a huge liner with my girlfriends, where I’d spent half the time in the bathroom battling an unpleasant gastro bug I’d picked up from the buffet. When I finally found time to ring him the next morning, Heller wasn’t thrilled with the idea of the excursion at all because I couldn’t assure him that there would be any mobile coverage outside of the harbour. I didn’t know what to say to him, because I simply didn’t know if I could keep in touch. Probably not, I thought, trying to ignore the tiny surge of relief I felt at possibly being freed for twenty-four hours from the burden of continually contacting him.