by Jen Cole
Marilyn found herself responding automatically, spreading a magazine on the couch for Jo to sit on and offering to make tea, but the girl’s large eyes, under-smudged with fatigue in the elfin face, had struck a familiar note and she suddenly realized why.
“Rick, come and help with the cups please,” she said, and noticed his backward glance at the girl on the couch before he joined her in the tiny offset kitchen.
Under the clatter of crockery and running water, Marilyn found herself hissing. “What the hell are you playing at Rick? That girl on the couch is the fugitive, Kylie Marshall. I’ll bet the roadblock I just came through is for her. Well, is it?”
She seemed to have caught him by surprise. Had he forgotten she would have seen the photo and prints he’d sent in earlier? But now he was straightening and speaking firmly.
“It’s true the roadblock is for Kylie Marshall, but Marilyn, I swear to you the girl out there is Jo Warrington. I know Jo. I dealt with her father for months and she is Bill’s daughter.”
“The photo and prints you sent were hers?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does the police database say they’re Kylie Marshall’s?”
“Kylie is a construct. Someone has managed to set up a false identity for Jo on the police database… You know the H Group has that kind of power.”
She frowned. “But why would they do it? It would cause no more than a temporary inconvenience. Jo can surely gather sufficient documentation to prove who she is, quite apart from the statements of family and friends.”
“True but such things take time to organize from a jail cell, and while locked up she’d be vulnerable to attack.”
Marilyn regarded him thoughtfully, wondering what had happened to him and Jo. Had they really been attacked by the H Group? Their dishevelment was certainly more extreme than the after-effects of a romp in the hay.
“The H Group has never operated this way,” she said, in a last appeal to get to the truth. “Why should they start now?”
“If not them, then who?” he threw back, and that she couldn’t answer.
“What exactly is your plan Rick?” she finally asked. “If the girl won’t accept assistance from BEAM and mystery assassins as well as the police are after her, what can you do to help?”
“My plan is to keep her moving and away from complications with the police, while BEAM investigates Brooks and Blatman. I believe they are key to this, so it’s vital the investigation into them continues without a hiccup.”
She sighed. “And what do you want from me?”
“I bribed Mikey at the Welcome Inn to let me borrow the motel’s van, on the promise I’d have it back before eight am, when they’ll need it for collecting supplies. I was hoping you’d return it for me, stay the night in my room and then take a rental car or train back to Melbourne in the morning.”
“And my Veloster?” Though only a recent acquisition, in keeping with her new image, it had already become her baby.
“I’ll take the best care of it, I swear. I just need to get Jo to Melbourne. When you arrive home you’ll find it sitting contentedly in your garage, gleaming quietly.” He finished with a grin and Marilyn shook her head.
“It had better be, and I’ll want a proper explanation when this is all over.”
“I owe you big time, Marilyn.”
Yes, you do, she thought, but I wonder if you mean it.
They carried the steaming cups over to the sitting room, where Jo had replaced the champagne with an opened packet of peanuts from the bar fridge.
“It’s not much,” she said, addressing Richard. “And I know you promised me a meal when we arrived, but with everything that’s happening, we should keep a low profile here. My pannier pack has some cheese, fruit and a chocolate bar we can add to this.”
Richard slurped some coffee and put his cup down. “I’ll get the panniers out of the van, along with the rest of our gear.”
Marilyn watched his retreating back. He was seldom so obliging for her.
~~~~
CHAPTER 39
When the door closed, Marilyn turned to Jo. “My boyfriend’s a sucker for helping people in trouble. You’re not his first lame duck and you won’t be his last.”
Jo met her gaze. “I’m grateful he’s willing to help.”
“How exactly has he been helping? You two look like you’ve been in a war together… or something.”
“I feel like we’ve been in a war,” said Jo. People are after me. If Richard hadn’t stepped in I’d probably be dead by now. He thinks the H Group is involved.”
Marilyn blinked. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Maybe a protestation that Richard was just a friend, which she now knew wasn’t true. She’d seen the way he’d looked at Jo tonight, and that had fired her determination to make it clear to this girl Rick was taken. She felt a jolt of surprise at her own reaction. Just minutes ago she’d been toying with the idea of looking for a new boyfriend and now here she was, overwhelmed by feelings of possessiveness for Rick. Giving someone up and having them taken away were two very different things.
As though reading her emotion, Jo blushed. “I realize this is an awkward situation,” she said. “We don’t know each other, and yet Richard has asked you to help me. I’d understand if you prefer not to.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have asked unless you were in real trouble,” Marilyn heard herself saying. That was true. Richard’s passion for righting wrongs had been what had drawn her to him in the first place. And what if Jo were nothing more than a damsel in distress? But no, looking at the blush still on the girl’s face, Marilyn knew her first instinct had been correct. Jo had fallen for him.
That didn’t mean once he’d got her to safety and all the excitement was over, things would stay that way. Most likely Rick would come to realize he had nothing in common with this simple farm girl and he’d return to Marilyn. That is, if she didn’t blow it right now, by refusing to help. Her wisest strategy was to do her best for them, putting Richard in her debt.
Having come to that decision, she studied the girl thoughtfully. Jo looked exhausted. She smelt strongly of oil, and all manner of filth clung to her stained clothing. Though she’d obviously been through hell, she was keeping her cool, and Marilyn could not suppress a trickle of admiration.
“How are you planning to get through the roadblock?” she asked.
Jo seemed startled by her new attitude. “We haven’t figured that out yet,” she admitted. “Richard thought you might have some ideas.”
“What did I think?” The door had opened and Richard stood there, laden with luggage. He dropped the gear on the floor and brought the pannier pack over to Jo.
Marilyn answered. “Apparently you thought I’d have some ideas for getting through the roadblock.”
Richard looked sheepish. “You’re a great ideas person, Marilyn.”
Yes, she thought. You should feel guilty for what you’re putting me through. He headed off to the kitchenette for plates and a knife and Marilyn wracked her brains for an idea that would impress him.
Jo pulled three oranges, a wrapped block of cheese, and a chocolate bar from the pannier bags and when Richard returned with the plates, laid them out.
“The photo on the police database,” Marilyn said, looking at Jo. “It shows Kylie Marshall with shoulder length hair, so your short style will help. They’ll expect you to be travelling alone...”
“Alone or with a man,” said Richard, bringing Marilyn’s narrowed gaze upon him.
“They know you’re helping her! If BEAM’s been compromised…”
“They don’t know anything,” he said quickly. “But given that she’s been so hard to track down, they might easily surmise she has an accomplice, and who would a young drug addict most likely have helping her than a boyfriend?”
Marilyn considered the statement. “In that case, Jo will have to travel with a woman. And the two women will have to look as far removed from street drug life as possi
ble.”
Richard’s jaw dropped. “I can’t ask you to do that Marilyn. If you’re caught you’ll be charged with aiding a fugitive.”
She warmed to this sign of his concern for her, and smiled. “Then we’d better make sure I’m not caught. And as far as aiding a fugitive, such a charge would have to be dropped after Jo proved she wasn’t Kylie Marshall, would it not?”
“True, but before then…”
“Things could get sticky, yes, so let’s maximize our chances of sailing unchallenged through that block.”
“How?” Jo said.
Marilyn spoke decisively. “You’ll be my sister. We’re a similar size and I have an outfit with me that will look very cute on you. A little makeup to cover that pallor and something to darken your hair and we could easily pass for relatives.”
“You’re right,” said Richard. “This could work!”
So much for his concern for me, Marilyn thought, and ignoring him, turned to Jo. “Toning down that blonde hair will be tricky.”
“I could get some mud from the lake,” Richard suggested.
She and Jo just looked at him.
“Okay, you two work out the details. I’ll pack our gear into the Veloster.”
As Marilyn tossed him her car keys, Jo jumped up and headed for the kitchenette. “I have an idea. How about a coffee rinse?”
“That could work,” said Marilyn, joining her. “Let’s see how many sachets they’ve left us.”
By the time Richard returned, she was stirring a cup of concentrated brown sludge, surrounded by a flurry of opened coffee sachets.
“Jo’s taking a shower,” she told him. “I’ll go and help her with this rinse in a minute.”
“Will it do the trick, do you think?”
“Hope so. I’m tempted to add a little mascara, but anything that looks fake will only draw attention. I think we’ll stick with this.”
“Marilyn, about the logistics of this operation…”
“What logistics?” she said, having thought of a way of keeping Rick and Jo apart while he was packing the car. “I’ll drive Jo to Melbourne. You can return the van to Shepparton yourself and come down by train in the morning.”
He shook his head. “Too dangerous. Someone does want Jo dead and anyone with her will be in the firing line. All you need to do is get her through the roadblock and into Nagambie. Once there, turn into a side street. I’ll follow in the van and we can swap over. You return the van to the Welcome Inn as we planned, and I’ll take Jo on to Melbourne.”
“You seem very keen to be the one with Jo.”
“Marilyn, I am the field agent.”
She laughed. “Come on Richard. We both know the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done is squash a centipede on your way up the steps of a farmhouse. Your skills are your gift of the gab, getting farmers to trust you.”
“All the same, what would you do if someone started shooting at you?”
She studied his face and realized he was serious. She wasn’t about to risk her life for this girl. “Very well, which street shall we turn into?”
“Can I borrow your phone?”
Marilyn handed it over and Richard brought up a map of Nagambie.
“Vine Street will do,” he said, showing her the map. “The street on the left there, after you get into Nagambie.”
She took back the phone. “Okay, and while we’re working on logistics, you’d better give me the motel key and tell me where to leave the van.”
Richard passed over his room key, along with the one Jo had returned. “These are for the motel room. There’s a shed behind the units where they keep the van. I can’t thank you enough for this Marilyn, and since I’m going to be forever indebted to you, can I add one further request?”
He pulled out the Commodore keys. “Before you leave Shepparton tomorrow, could you drop these in at the local car rental branch and tell them their Commodore is at the Mooroopna golf course, under a large grevillea bush? The bush is near the maintenance road off Park Street.”
Numbly she took the keys. “What on Earth?”
“Long story, but don’t try to pick up the car yourself. Get the hire company to send someone and add the cost to their bill. The car will have some scratches so BEAM may also be up for the excess charge on the insurance. If my handler asks you what’s going on, just say I’ve told you it’s all related to the H Group, and that I’ll be sending in a report soon.”
“You’d better. That kind of message won’t satisfy them for long.”
“I know.”
“Rick, the more I hear about all this, the less I like it.”
“Just try to make sure everyone possible stays on the Brooks and Blatman investigation. If you can do that…”
“Yes, I know, you’ll be eternally grateful.”
Apart from his gratitude, Marilyn decided it was time for a little reminder of what he’d be losing if he chose Jo. Casually she stripped to her lacy underwear, and having gained his full attention, slowly removed it too, before picking up the cup of concentrated coffee.
“Dyeing,” she said, as she strolled to the bathroom, “is an operation best performed without clothing.”
…
Richard washed his face at the kitchen sink, trying to negate the effect of Marilyn’s striptease by imagining her reaction on learning it had been witnessed by an avid audience. He returned to the couch to wait for the two women and as the sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, he stretched out and closed his eyes.
“Wake up Rick, no rest for the wicked.”
He sat up quickly, checking his watch. Twenty minutes to one. The girls had taken around forty minutes, but as he turned his attention to them, he was impressed. Marilyn was re-attired in the slacks and cream blouse and Jo looked stunning in tight black pants with short ankle boots. The long dusty pink top she wore accentuated her new coppery hair color.
Marilyn handed Jo a soft grey and pink wool scarf and a thin black belt.
“You might want to try these with that outfit,” she said.
As Jo added the final touches, Richard marveled at the transformation. Both women were exquisitely made up and looked like a couple of wealthy yuppies ready to take on the world.
“Never dye your hair with coffee,” laughed Jo. “What a nightmare! Who would have thought it could be so sticky and yet so drying at the same time?”
“We had to add conditioner just to be able to pull a comb through her hair, and it diluted the color, so we didn’t dare rinse in case we lost it all.”
Marilyn tossed Jo a plastic shower cap that had been provided by the resort. “Don’t you dare lean on the headrest until we’re through the roadblock and then before you do, put this on,” she instructed. “I don’t want coffee stains on my upholstery!”
Jo caught it and grinned. “Yes ma’am.”
Richard noted the easy banter between them with relief. The hair project seemed to have created a bond.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Ready.” Jo picked up a bulging plastic bag and at his raised eyebrow, gave a laugh. “It’s a bin liner from the bathroom,” she said. “I needed something to carry the filthy track pants and hoodie.”
“Come on little sister,” said Marilyn. “Let’s be off.” She passed her overnight case to Richard. “This needs to go in the van.”
Outside, Richard handed Marilyn her keys. “I’ll be right behind you. Good luck.”
He headed towards the van with Marilyn’s overnight case and the two women climbed into the Veloster. Jo dropped the bag of old clothes under her feet and Marilyn pulled out.
With her head-bowed to avoid the headrest, Jo sat immersed in her own thoughts as they negotiated the lake road. When the highway came up the two glanced at each other and simultaneously took a deep breath.
“What’s our story?” Jo asked.
“I’m me,” said Marilyn. “And you’re my little sister, Claire, doing first year Arts at Uni. You’ve been on a mid semest
er break, and we’ve just treated ourselves to a week together at the Lake Retreat. We’ve had a great time visiting wineries, sightseeing, indulging in day spas and going for walks along the lake. Now we’re heading home, as all good things must come to an end… What do you think?”
“I love it! All we have to do is look relaxed and happy – even enjoying the adventure of a roadblock in the middle of the night, and they’ll pass us through without a second glance.”
“That’s the plan,” said Marilyn. “And that is where we wait.” She nodded to a brightly lit string of traffic cones, at the head of which police officers were directing cars to join a queue.
As they pulled up behind the last car, Jo lowered the window and leant out to peer down the line. Then she raised the window to shut out the cold night air and announced, “There’s about a dozen cars ahead of us.”
“How did you and Rick get caught up in this mess?”
Jo stiffened. Where was Marilyn going with this? “He heard of my father’s death and came to the farm to offer his condolences. Luckily he was there when attempts were made on my life.”
But Marilyn’s next words were sympathetic. “I’m sorry about your father. Rick said he was a good man.”
“He was, but now I realize how protective he also was. He discouraged me from sitting in on their talks when Richard came around, saying I’d find machinery chitchat boring, but now I find machinery was not what they were talking about at all.”
“Your father never told you about the H Group?”
“No, and I have to say this whole global conspiracy to take over orchards sounds a bit paranoid.”
“Perhaps, but you only have to look at history’s examples to see we’ve always had those who strive for power – warlords fighting for territory, dictators, religious and elected leaders. Now it’s the businessmen’s turn. Already retail giants sell much of what the world buys, but ultimate power resides in the control of primary industry.”
