by Paul Haines
'This should be worth heaps,' the Abo said to his colleagues. 'One of their heads was split open and I saw it there, all shiny and shit. Was easier to get out than I thought.'
As the tracks clack clack clacked, the month-tripper cried, 'Keira, where's Keira?'
It was just a woman, Jimbo thought, and an Asian at that. He wondered how long he could stand it before he cracked. That money-flush cunt doesn't know how lucky he is. We could have been killed, for Christ's sake!
#
The last hour of the train journey was underground and express, and for most of that the month-tripper had been silent. The train hissed into the station—a massive domed structure with manufactured clouds floating across its ceiling. The platform they alighted at held no crowds, and consequently no Niki, but there were escorts—a dozen of them clad in light blue uniform carrying shock sticks and wearing razor goggles wrapped around shiny scalps. Police. And amongst them, several black-suited Cartel men milled, scanning passengers.
An empty voice droned from hidden speakers, 'All passengers proceed to the rear of Platform Thirteen. You will be processed accordingly. Thank you for your cooperation.'
Bodies were stretchered from the train, as the police herded the living across the platform towards a set of steel doors emblazoned with a red No Entry sign.
Once inside the doors, they were corralled into a waiting room and told to sit on hard plastic chairs.
'I don't like this,' said Jimbo.
'This'll be just routine. Stuff about the train robbery.' Though Dave's voice remained calm, his eyes bulged in their sockets.
Several police moved systematically through the room collecting DNA samples. Jimbo flinched when cold fingers were pressed to his throat and stung his flesh. Dave did his best to remain still, but those bulging eyes watered when the fingers bit.
Eventually the two of them were ushered into an interview room. They were seated at a desk. A police woman sat opposite. Her face was hard, her eyes arctic blue and her nose sharp. Veins bulged beneath the skin of her scalp. A Cartel man stood near the desk, arms folded, his eyes hidden beneath dark glasses.
'First time to the City, boys,' said the woman. Her voice sounded as friendly as rusting car bodies. 'Neither of you are registered, but both of you are cross-referenced with one Warren Wilson.'
A holographic screen buzzed into existence on the desktop. Jimbo saw his image floating amongst details of blood type, age, genetic disorders and a mass of equations he didn't understand.
'I need your names and places of residence. One at a time and speak clearly into the machine.'
When Jimbo and Dave had declared who they were, the holographic blinked out. The woman stared dolefully at them. 'Purpose of visit?'
Christ, I hope the women here aren't all like this bitch. I'd rather do Keats. 'I'm here to find a wife,' said Jimbo.
The Cartel man smirked but the police officer's expression didn't change. 'Your kind make me sick. If you get in trouble here, don't come looking for help,' she said. 'Records verify. You may leave now.'
'What?' said Dave. 'Is that it? You keep us waiting around for a couple of hours and then don't even ask about the train?'
'We don't need to ask you anything more. We have everything we need,' she said. 'Enjoy your stay in the City.'
#
Outside the station, with its crumbling facade of pale orange stone blocks and a fractured clock tower no longer marking time, the shock of the City tumbled and thundered over them. Towering buildings of angular steel and polished glass jutted into the sky blocking out the sun, advertising holograms dancing across their smooth windowed exteriors; beneath a nearby bridge, a river thick with mud slugged by, its oily surface broken by barges and peppered with rubbish, while a thick weed with dark glossgreen leaves and a white leathery bloom wove along the riverbank, its choking tendrils slowly claiming what little was left of the water that the mud didn't already own; the streets were packed with people moving frantically between bikes and electric cars and trams, amongst them heavily-armed blue uniforms stationed on street corners. The honk of horns and tinkling bells was incessant, piercing the hubbub of the murmuring voiceless masses. The smell of ozone and the hint of petroleum lingered on the air, while the waft of sewage from the river drifted on the occasional breeze. Nearby, a street hawker fried gristled slivers of meat in a spicy red sauce.
Around the station milled dozens of people, mainly men, wielding fishing rods, buckets and mops, wearing tool-belts sporting archaic hand-held drills and hammers, carrying anything that signified their available line of work. Their faces wore a mix of dejection and hope. One man, his face creased with grime, thrust his mop at Jimbo's head.
'Git ta the back a the line, cunt. You fuckers fresh off the train ain't got no chance a jumpin' queue.' He thrust the mop inches away from Jimbo's face. 'Better yet, why dontcha jus fuck off back to where yas come from—no work here for youse cunts!'
Dave grabbed Jimbo's arm, and they backed away. A horn blasted in their ears, accompanied by a sharp squeal of brakes.
'Get out a the way, dickheads!'
They pushed through the crowds, making their way to the relative refuge the bridge provided. Here, the glossgreen weed had crept up the pylons and wound along the rusting rails. The stink of the river was strong, which was probably why it wasn't so crowded.
'What now?' asked Dave.
'We've got about three hours until my appointment.' Jimbo pulled a map out of his backpack and carefully unfolded it. On it he had circled three things and had highlighted the streets connecting them. He pointed at the circled station and then drew his finger along one of the lines to the next circle. 'This is where we'll need to be. It should only take us half an hour to walk.'
Dave stared at the crowded street as people swarmed across the massive intersection outside the station. 'You reckon?'
'Maybe an hour, I dunno.' Jimbo pointed to the other circle on the map. 'We could swing by here first. It's near where we need to go. Maybe twenty minutes out of our way.'
'Won't Niki be working?'
'Yeah, but she lives in the same building she works in.'
Dave grinned. 'You know I'll be keen.'
'Her flatmates won't be interested in you.'
Dave shook his crotch. 'Ya wanna make a bet?'
They both laughed, but Jimbo felt his good humour leach away as they made their way through the crowded streets while looming buildings pressed down from above.
#
The foyer of the Mederos building was huge and spacious compared to the crush of streets outside. The walls were draped in massive oil paintings; sculptures of bronze and clay and hologram punctuated the room; lush foliage gave the interior an exotic feel that lent the fresh smell of leaf and earth to the air, while irrigation tubes fed moisture into the plant beds. Beneath a soft electronic meditation scheme piped from hidden speakers, a muted hum buzzed through the room, no doubt the machinery powering the building.
'That one's a palm tree,' said Dave. 'Like they got up Far North.'
'That water must cost a fortune.'
Near the far wall, beneath a painting of a sunburnt landscape with a solitary black-armoured rider, was a large reception area guarding a squad of elevators. Operating the desk were half a dozen men and women, while several Cartel men stood guard, making sure the visitor queues were processed in an orderly manner.
'Can I help you, sir?' asked a female receptionist. Her hair was blonde and cut short, her nose was fine and bridged sparkling green eyes all, of which were delicately framed by high cheekbones. A plug was connected directly to her neck and a console on the counter. A badge on her shirt stated: Hi, I'm Mandy.
Jimbo was stunned by her beauty, hoping that his wife-to-be would be as beautiful as this woman. Without the wiring of course, and maybe longer hair.
'I'd like to see Nicole White,' said Jimbo. 'She works for Mederos.'
Mandy blinked. 'I'm afraid Nicole's not in the office at the moment.'
'Do ya know when she'll be back? I'm her cousin, Jim White, from back home. I'm visiting the City. Got some home cooking for her. From her mum n that.'
Mandy blinked again. 'Hello, Jim. I'm sorry, but Nicole is not due in the office today. Would you like to leave a message?'
'I already left a message that I'd be arriving today. Ya don't know if she went down to the station to get me, do ya?'
She smiled, though there was little warmth in it. 'I'm sorry, sir. I don't have access to that information.'
'Could ya try her apartment for me? I've got the number here.' Jimbo showed Mandy the address Aunty Lana had given him.
'Certainly.' Mandy blinked. 'I'm sorry, sir. No-one is currently home. Would you like to leave a message?'
'I left one yesterday. Shit. You don't know where she is?'
Mandy shook her head and smiled. 'Is there anything else I can help you with?'
'What about her flatmates? Maybe they know when she'll be back. She lives with Zoe Lane and Michelle Hanna. They work with her at Mederos, too.'
'Certainly.' Mandy blinked several times. 'I'm sorry, sir, it appears that Zoe and Michelle are not in today.'
'What?' Jimbo looked at Dave in frustration. Dave shook his head, his brow furrowed. 'Is this for real? They're all away? No-one at work and no-one at home? Is this because you think I'm a sort of country fucken bumpkin, is it? We're not allowed in or something?'
Mandy, smile intact, nodded at one of the Cartel men. He moved abruptly towards them, while another of the Cartel turned to watch.
'Is there a problem?' he asked.
Mandy's eyes twinkled as she stared at Jimbo.
'No problem.' Dave grabbed Jimbo and pulled him back from the counter. 'Come on, man, let's go. We'll come back later, after work's finished. Somebody will be home.'
As they exited the building, Jimbo saw Mandy talking to the Cartel man. The man nodded and turned away, his silver eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights tucked up in the ceiling. She resumed her activities at reception.
'City wankers,' said Jimbo. 'Fucken hate them.'
#
'You sure this is the place?' asked Dave.
The narrow alley, jutting off the busy main street in the heart of Chinatown, appeared deserted, its high brick walls smeared in graffiti, the broken bitumen littered with junk. Jimbo consulted his map as people swarmed around them. He looked down the deserted alley again, unsure.
'It's gotta be.'
They stepped out from the street and into the alley, following its twists and turns through dank shadows. A nondescript barred door appeared on their right, with the words Bridal Services carved into a steel plaque above the door. A camera lens sat recessed into the crumbling cement wall.
'This looks dodgy,' said Dave. 'Brian didn't say nothing about this.'
'Yeah, well, he didn't say nothing about his inheritance either, did he?' Jimbo pressed the button beneath the camera. 'He did say these guys were the best though.'
A speaker crackled and spat. 'Name?'
'James White. I have an appointment.'
A heavy rumbling proceeded and the barred door rose, revealing a dimly lit corridor with an elevator at the end. Inside the elevator there was only one button. Jimbo pressed it. The elevator shuddered into life and began to descend.
Dave adjusted his carry-bag, shifting the weight from one shoulder to the other. 'I got a bad feeling about this.'
Jimbo stared at the card in his hand. The bright red words. The cold white background. He swallowed down his nervousness. 'Nah, mate, this is how it's done.'
The elevator ground to a halt.
Dave and Jimbo looked at each other. 'Ya bring ya knife? Just in case.'
'Course I fucken did,' said Jimbo. 'I'm not stupid.' The doors whined open.
They stepped out into a softly lit foyer where two young women dressed in black greeted them with warm lipstick smiles.
Dave laughed softly, a sigh of relief.
'Please leave your bags here, Mr White,' said one of the women. Her voice was silk and her blue eyes sparkled as she talked. She took Jimbo gently by the arm. 'Please, come with me. Mr Santos will be with you shortly.'
'In the meantime, can we get you a drink?' said the other woman, guiding Dave.
The women led them to a set of low couches around a coffee table, where the two men took a seat. Jimbo tried to keep the grin off his face, but failed when he looked at Dave, who was grinning like a horse put to stud.
'This is alright,' said Dave, as the women went to fetch a couple of Bundy and colas. 'It's a bit like the House in Shepp. Except there's normally a few other blokes here.'
Jimbo looked around the empty room. The walls were painted dark red, but were bare of prints or paintings. The carpet was lush underfoot, and tall potted plants positioned around the room somehow survived the muted lighting. Security cameras were mounted in each corner of the room.
One of the women returned, carrying a tray of drinks and a bowl of ice. She placed it on the table, bending low, the tight stretch of her skirt curving firmly against her body. Jimbo breathed deep, sucking in her perfume. I'd be happy with someone like her.
Dave grinned and picked up his drink. 'This is alright!' He eyed the woman as she left the room. 'Ya not staying?' he called after her.
She turned and smiled. 'Mr Santos will be with you shortly.'
'Bugger,' said Dave quietly. 'Wonder if ya can sample the goods?'
Jimbo laughed, finally away from the throng of the crowd and the press of looming buildings and packed streets, and felt the nervousness drift away. He sank back into the couch and swallowed a mouthful of rum. 'Yeah, this is alright.'
'Does that mean ya've changed ya mind?'
'About waitin?'
'Yeah. Come explore the City with me. Ya got one month, mate, one month.'
'Dunno, Dave. Don't much like what I've seen so far.'
'At least take a couple a days to have a look see.' Dave took another gulp, crushing the ice between his teeth. 'Fucken waste to come all this way and not see any of it. Find some a that free pussy Wazza was spoutin about.'
'I'm not here to see this fucken shit hole. Can't afford to be here anyways. My money's spent, mate.'
'So ya gunna spend the rest of the month in hibernation?' Dave shook his head, his chin bulging as he bit back frustration. 'You and ya fucken wife. I paid for half a me own train ticket and I'm ya best fucken man, ya cunt! Fuck ya, I'll see it on me own.'
'Don't be like that. I didn't say I wasn't going to see any of it! Fuck. I'll spend the first couple of days with ya, but then I'm takin up the hibernation. I already paid for it.'
'Would ya?'
'Consider yaself lucky, ya ugly cunt.' Jimbo cracked a smile. 'And anyway, if the train was daily instead of monthly, I'd be outta here tomorrow fucken mornin and ya'd be comin with me.'
'Gentlemen,' said a deep voice from the other end of the room. A small, thin man in a dark suit stood with his arms raised in welcome. Black shoulder-length hair dripped from his scalp, in stark contrast against his pale skin. 'Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Mr Santos. Please, follow me.'
They entered a small brightly-lit office where Santos gestured them into chairs around an empty desk. Santos hovered his hand over a pad on the desk and a holographic screen appeared.
'Let's get down to business, shall we?' Santos's lips curled upwards in an attempt at a smile. 'I'm sure you're very keen to meet your new bride.'
'Yes, I—'
'Good.' Santos's hand fluttered and a small hologram of a woman appeared and began to slowly revolve. 'This one is Kim. Young, attractive.'
Jimbo leaned forward, studying the image. 'Is she a bit Asian?'
'A small percentage, yes. Very fashionable these days. Would you like to see her naked?' Santos's hand hovered.
'Can you do that?' said Dave.
Jimbo glared at Dave. 'For fuck's sake, Dave. This could be me wife ya talking about.'
'Is that a no?' said Santos.
'Don't want no Asian,' said Jimbo. 'I'm paying good money. I want a proper Australian.'
Santos tilted his head and sighed. 'I'm not going to bullshit you, James. It's very hard to get what I think you're after. A purebred, yes? Unfortunately supply has changed a little over the last year and prices have increased.'
'Whaddya mean? I got ten grand!'
Santos smiled. 'James, you'd need at least twenty for a purebred. The women here on offer are of excellent quality. Guaranteed. Trust me, you won't be unhappy with your purchase at your current limit. Naturally, if you'd like to reassess at a later date, if your financial situation has improved, I'm sure we can do business.' He clasped his hands. 'But who's to say prices will remain the same.'
Jimbo looked at Davo, who shrugged. 'Never fucken heard about this.'
'Property prices,' Santos smiled again. 'Who can ever tell? We have four women available at your current price range and I have three interested buyers.' The hologram blurred and cycled through to stop on a blonde woman. 'This is as close as we can get with current stock. Sixty percent pure. The rest of the gene pool guaranteed European.'
'Only four women?'
'Your deposit has guaranteed you a wife, James. And you're here first. You simply need to choose.'
'But that's not many to choose from.'
Santos smiled sympathetically. 'If you'd prefer to come back in a few months' time. I can't guarantee anything by then, of course. It's difficult to acquire new stock.' He laughed, a small phlegmy gurgle. 'As I'm sure you gentleman understand.' His eyes went cold. 'Or you wouldn't be here.'
Jimbo studied the hologram again. 'Sixty percent, eh? What are the other women?'
'Dominant Arabian and Asian gene pools. Beautiful women. Lithe. Exotic. Extremely adept.'
'Can you zoom in on this one's face?'
Dave laughed. 'You don't look at the mantelpiece when you're stoking the fire, Jimbo!'
'Yes, ya fucken do! It's her face ya look at while ya fuck her!'
'I agree.' Santos zoomed in. 'There is nothing more pleasurable than the look on a woman's face as she orgasms. This is Helena.'
