Crystal Ice

by Warren Miner-Williams

  “That is good,” said Sumovich brightly. “The rendezvous point was an excellent choice, not a single person for miles. With very little moon there will be nothing to worry about.”

  “Have the ether drums been exchanged, OK?” enquired Levorko.

  “Yes, everything went smoothly. No problems with Customs, they don’t bother to look anymore and when they do, they are more concerned about our general cargo, which I presume is because it’s the only thing on the manifest which changes every trip. Such a simple ploy to distract them, yet so effective. A touch of brilliance on your part, Levorko.”

  Levorko raised his glass, acknowledging the compliment.

  “You have another item of cargo, I understand?”

  “Yes, a gift from the Institute of Immunology in Zagreb. It’s in a vacuum flask in my coat. I am advised that you need a refrigerator to store it.”

  “I’ll put it in the drinks fridge in the garage immediately,” said Levorko striding purposefully across the deck towards the house.

  “Thank you, Goran,” said Dino, embracing his friend. “You have assisted our cause in so many ways that a simple thank you seems a little lame. I cannot put into words our gratitude.” With that Dino lifted his glass and bowed his head, “Za dom!”

  “Spremni!” replied Sumovich.

  They were the words of the 19th century Croatian salute, first used by a Croatian province administrator, Josip Jelačić. Za dom- for homeland, with the reply Spremni-we are ready.

  8.

  Sharon

  When the phone rang, and kept ringing at 3.00 am on that Sunday morning in June, Lisa had no idea of the impact it would have on her future life. She struggled to shake the sleepiness from her head as she trudged down the stairs to the telephone. Warmed by the pot belly stove in the corner of the dining area, the large room was warmer than her bedroom. Lisa often thought that she would be better off sleeping there during the winter months rather than in her bedroom.

  By the time Lisa got to the phone she was not only awake but also annoyed that someone could be selfish enough to ring at such an unearthly hour.

  “Yes, who is it?” Lisa snapped. There was no reply, just a silence that angered her even more.

  “Look, if this is someone’s idea of a joke then I’m not impressed. Who is it?”

  She was about to put the phone down when she heard a faint voice at the other end of the line.

  “Yes. Who is this? Tell me now or I’m putting the phone down.”

  Lisa had a weird sense of dread that this could be her sister, Sharon.

  “Is that you Shaz? What’s wrong? Shaz if that’s you, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m in big trouble, Lisa,” came the weak reply, “I’ve stuffed up. I need your help.”

  “Where are you Shaz? Tell me, and I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  “I’m at Dad’s old flat Leez. I’m really fucked up. Help me Leez.” Sharon’s voice was no more than a laboured whisper and Lisa could only just make sense of what her sister was saying.

  “OK Sharon, I’ll get a flight up to Auckland as soon as I can. Just wait...”

  The line went dead, only the ringing tone remained. Picking up her cell phone Lisa frantically scrolled through her directory for her dad’s old number. She pressed the ring button on her mobile and waited for the reply. There wasn’t one, just the engaged signal. Switching on the lights of the dining area she padded across to her PC and switched it on.

  While she waited for it to boot up, she tried Sharon’s number again. Nothing. In desperation she rang the number again and again. Nothing, just the Morse code like stutters of the engaged tone.

  Turning back to the computer, she brought up the Air New Zealand home page and scrolled down to the flight bookings tab. Entering all the requested details the earliest flight was NZ 8376, which left Nelson at 7:40am and arrived in Auckland at 9:00am. Disregarding the $350 dollar price tag she pressed the booking tab. She was lucky, she got the last available seat.

  Throwing just the bare essentials in a soft carry bag, she banged on Scott’s bedroom door. He was a notoriously heavy sleeper and only the loudest of noises would wake him.

  “Yes,” came the sleepy response from Scott as he squinted into the landing light that outlined Lisa as she stood in the doorway.

  “Sharon’s in trouble, I’ve got to go to Auckland to find out what’s wrong”

  Now completely awake Scott got out of bed and walked over to her. “Lisa, it’s 3.30 in the morning. You won’t get a flight at this short notice; I’ll drive you up there...”

  “She’s just this minute called me, she’s in big trouble. I must go. I’ve got a flight. I leave at 7.40. Can you take me to the airport?” Lisa’s voice trembled with emotion.

  “Sure. Shall I come with you?”

  “No, it’s OK. I’ll give you a call as soon as I find out what’s wrong.

  “Where is Sharon?”

  “In Dad’s old flat. I feel as if I’m going to puke, worrying what could be the matter. She sounded so weak when I spoke to her, I could barely understand what she was saying. Scott I’m worried. What shall I do?”

  “Go and get a shower and wake yourself up properly. I’ll brew some coffee and get you something to eat.”

  “Good idea.”

  By the time Scott had put the kettle on and started to grill some bacon, Lisa had finished her shower and was re-packing a small suitcase. This time more methodically, making sure that she had everything she needed for, what she thought would just be a couple of days in Auckland. She sat on the bed, wrapped in a bath sheet, her mind wandering, trying to get a fix on what might be wrong with her sister.

  Lisa and her sister had only reconciled with their father in adulthood. Lisa had only just got to know him before plunging into her drug induced psychosis. When her father had died suddenly of a heart attack Lisa was in prison. It was months later that she was coherent enough to understand that her father had gone. By that time, it was too late to mourn. She then descended into deep depression, initiated by her dependency on Crystal Ice and fuelled by her anger of not being there for her dad at the end. Sharon couldn’t forgive her and apart from a brief telephone call at Christmas, they were not on speaking terms. Sharon had said terrible things and the rift between them had been impossible to bridge. All the more frightening that Sharon would call out of the blue in such an ominous fashion. Lisa began to cry as she recalled prison, missing the funeral, missing her little sister. All the pain and the hurt of her tragic past enveloped her, smothering all rational thought.

  “Lisa love, come downstairs. You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten and had some coffee.” Scott took her hand and led her gently downstairs. She hadn’t heard him enter her bedroom and had no idea how long he had been watching her. She wasn’t embarrassed, she was ashamed.

  Scott knew what she was thinking, he had helped her come to terms with her guilt during his many visits to the prison, and after she was released. They both had to contend with the death of their child through Lisa’s addiction. But Lisa carried the extra burden of her shame. Though she faced it bravely, each day involved some pain from the horror of that loss. Every time she faced the children she looked after she was haunted by what might have been. Her life was full of ‘ifs’, ‘if only’ and ‘what ifs’, they all clamoured for attention, incessantly present in her head like a monotonous funereal dirge, and a constant reminder of her guilt.

  In the kitchen, Lisa could not raise her head and look at Scott. Tender as always, he embraced her and fed new resolve into her. With her tears dry, she ate her bacon and scrambled eggs, even though she didn’t really want them. What she wanted to do was rush off to the airport immediately.

  When the final call was put over the airport p.a. system, Lisa was crying again. This time she didn’t want to leave Scott. He had been her whole life for so long now she couldn’t recall what her life had been like without him. She loved him with every fibre of her being and even though they did not share t
he same bed anymore, she always hoped that one day they would. Scott hugged her fiercely before ushering her towards the gate. The further she walked away from him, the bigger the hole in her heart became.

  “Are you alright, madam?” asked the Air New Zealand flight attendant.

  “Yes, I think so.” She answered weakly.

  “Come on then, let’s get you aboard and settled in. Come this way please”

  The word Auckland motivated her to follow the flight attendant. After a quick backward glance toward the terminal, and a final wave to Scott, she went to her allocated seat.

  ***

  Burdened by the bag over her shoulder, Lisa tripped on the last step and fell headlong across the dimly lit, second floor landing, of the apartment building. The impact knocked the breath out of her and a couple of minutes passed before she recovered. Lisa cursed aloud as she felt her bloodied chin. This was turning out to be a great day. She had spent $72 dollars on a taxi from Auckland Airport to the apartment, money, which, when added to her airfare, she could ill-afford to lose. As Lisa sat on the floor, rubbing her knees and feeling sorry for herself she remembered the few happy times she and her father had shared sitting in the sunshine in nearby Basque Park.

  Her father, Alun Davis, had heard of his ex-wife’s funeral through a chance meeting with her brother. Her father had then sought out his daughters and over a number of years had re-established a loving relationship with both of them. Even so, Lisa and her sister saw their father infrequently, as he was an airline pilot for Air New Zealand. However, Lisa for that brief time had a special relationship with her father, something that Sharon had always seemed jealous of. To Sharon, Lisa seemed to be his favourite, she could never do any wrong. He was always quoting Lisa. “Lisa did this,” “Lisa was so good at that,” “Lisa excelled at this” and always ended with; “You should do the same.” This had become a barrier between the two sisters for a long time. They had only known him for a few short years and both sisters mourned his untimely and sudden death deeply. Lisa was in prison when he died and blamed herself for his death. She was convinced that he died of shame and Sharon had encouraged that belief. Just how Sharon had secured the use of their father’s apartment, Lisa didn’t know.

  Using the wall to support herself Lisa straightened, then limped across the landing towards the door of Sharon’s apartment. She rang the bell and banged on the door, but there was no reply. She knew that the door had security locks around the door jam, so breaking in was not an option. Lisa raised herself on tiptoe, to see if looking through the security spy hole gave any clue. It didn’t. She tried the bell and banged on the door a second, and then a third time, but still there was no response.

  Looking around Lisa fruitlessly tried to find some solution to her problem. Then she remembered that one of the residents was employed as a superintendent, someone who oversaw the cleaning and maintenance of the building. It used to be some guy called Steve Watt, and his details used to be on a resident’s notice in the car parking space on the ground floor. Slowly Lisa descended the stairs to the car park and looked for the superintendent’s details. The notice was where she remembered, but the name and flat number of the person who looked after the apartment building was different. It was now someone called Bill Irving, in flat 2C. When Lisa rang the bell of 2C, a dark-haired woman answered her immediately.

  “Hi, I’m looking for the superintendent, err… Bill Irving?”

  “He’s playing golf my dear, he won’t be back until six. I’m his wife, can I help?”

  “Yes, I had a call from my sister this morning needing help. I live in Nelson and I’ve flown up this morning to find out what’s the matter. Do you have a pass key or something?”

  The eyebrows of the superintendent’s wife creased and she viewed Lisa suspiciously.

  “No, we don’t have pass keys.”

  Lisa half expected the woman to finish her statement with, “So piss off.” Although she didn’t, the message was plain – Lisa’s enquiries were unwelcome. Lisa became defiant.

  “Look madam, I don’t know what bad blood there might be between you and my sister, but she wouldn’t have rung me if there wasn’t something drastically wrong. Can I use your phone to call her?”

  “I suppose so, but I don’t want to get involved, your sister has caused enough bother around here. The phone’s just here beside the door. Use it and go, please.”

  “Thanks.” Lisa quickly dialled the number and watched the dark-haired woman as she waited for the call to be answered. There was no reply.

  Then as she put the phone down, she was bundled out the door and found herself staring at the brass letters, 2C. Perplexed by the woman’s attitude, Lisa returned to the landing outside her sister’s apartment. Lisa was angry now, angry with the stupid superintendent’s wife, angry with her bloody sister who was not answering her door and angry with herself because she didn’t know what to do. She’d have to call the police; they would have some way of breaking in, surely. Just as she was about to descend the stairs, the off-street access door on the ground floor swung open violently, banging noisily against its hard-stop. There was a shriek of laughter, followed by a muffled conversation. Then a man’s voice shouted from the bottom of the stairwell.

  “Cum’on Shaz, you promised me a good shag for that stash you’re clutching. I’m tired of picking you off the soddin’ floor. You’ll be no good to fuck if you aren’t conscious, get on your feet girl and let’s get shagging.”

  “OK, Pete-the-penis. Give us a hand up the stairs and if you’re hard enough I’ll give you the time of your fuckin’ life.”

  Lisa looked over the railing, trying to see the couple below. She was a little shocked by their conversation and nervous of asking them if they had seen her sister. All she saw was an arm every now and then as they climbed the stairs together. Just in case the couple was destined for the flat below her sister’s, Lisa started down the stairs towards them. As she turned the final flight of stairs, she was shocked by what she saw.

  “Oh my God! Sharon, it’s you.”

  “Who the fuck are you, bitch?” snarled the man, holding her sister to stop her falling to her knees.

  Sharon looked up at Lisa with a drunken expression.”

  “Leeeza, hi! Pete, don’t you recognise my sister, Sheeez cum up to help mee, haven’t you Leeez.”

  “She don’t look like you Shaz. But she looks a better fuck than you, though. What do you think sister? Do you want the ride of your life?”

  “Shut up, dick-head let me get my sister up the stairs.”

  But as she went to push past ‘Pete-the-penis’ she was suddenly propelled backwards by a vicious blow across her cheek. She fell awkwardly, banging her head against the concrete wall at the foot of the set of steps.

  “Listen to me, bitch. Your little sister owes me for that stash she’s holdin’ and I intend to get payment for it. So, stay on the floor, cow, unless you want some more fist.”

  “Pete, Pete please, that’s my Samaritan sister Leeeza. Leave her be, I’ll give you what you want.” Sharon reached down and pressed her hand against Pete’s crotch. “Ummh, you’re nice and hard already, aren’t you? Let me get you upstairs, I’ll soon have you waggling that inside me.”

  With strength that was absent before, Sharon lifted herself up and stood between Pete and her sister.

  “Come on big boy, what are you waiting for?”

  Before Lisa could get up, the two of them were already climbing the stairs towards Sharon’s apartment. Shaking the fuzziness from her head, Lisa followed them up the stairs. Sharon was struggling to find her key in her battered Louis Vuitton handbag as Lisa got to the landing outside the apartment.

  “Hang on darling, I’ll be able to repay my debt to you in a jiffy,” said Sharon.

  Pete was staring at Lisa, giving her the evil eye. Just as she opened her mouth to object to what was happening, Pete’s hand flashed forward and held her throat in a vice-like grip. Suddenly Lisa was struggling for breath
and the strength quickly disappeared from her legs. Pete then let her go and she crumpled to the floor. As Sharon opened the door to her apartment Pete pushed her through and slammed the door behind them.

  How long before Lisa regained consciousness she didn’t know. Even what had happened to her was hazy. But eventually she got up and pounded on the door.

  “Let go of her, Pete you prick. If you don’t, I’ll go to the police. And I’m not bluffing.”

  Lisa heard her sister giggling somewhere behind the closed door, then Pete replied.

  “Do that Leeza and when you come back your sister will be dead. You’ll be on my list of people to do. Test me bitch, and you’ll regret it.”

  Not knowing what to do, Lisa slumped back down the wall and crouched on the floor. Sharon was giggling again, so perhaps she wasn’t being harmed.