The Miranda Contract (14 page)

A musty smell greeted them as the door swung backwards, almost rolling out as if it’d been bottled for months. It was a mixture of swamp water and wet dog. Miranda covered her nose with her sleeve, but Dan stepped into the house with his full focus on finding out if anyone was inside.

He ran his hands over the walls, the limited connection with the house’s electrical work drawing him to the light switch. Dan kicked the door closed as the hallway lights flickered on.

The place was full of junk. Even in the hallway, Grim had piles of magazines rising to an impressive height, stacked on side tables and even on the floor. The first room to the right was full of boxes overflowing with papers and schematics. Disused and outdated computer monitors punctuated the boxes, their screens intact or broken, but nonetheless useless. The other front room was full of furniture, piled up like a road accident. They moved to the living area and found it had been fitted out like a workshop. Benches were crowded with machines and power tools. Working computers blinked softly in the background.

Dan’s fingers closed over a lighter sitting on the kitchen bar. He looked at it, his thumb rubbing over the wolf logo. It had been Grim’s favorite thing, his keepsake. But it wasn’t just a lighter.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” a voice called out. Miranda had wandered to the back door in the kitchen. Dan turned around, already knowing the voice.

He slipped the lighter into his pocket.

It wasn’t Grim.

The young man was leaning against the door to the back rooms. Behind him was a glow, probably from a laptop. He wore a fur-lined hooded jacket over a singlet and jeans. Gold sparkled from his neck.

“Halo,” Dan said.

Chapter 19

Halo

H
e was only
a child the first time he heard another person’s thoughts inside his head. His mother lay with her head in his lap, gasping through blood which bubbled over her lips. Her eyes held him in place, refusing to let him see the wreckage of her body. Bombs exploded up and down the road outside. The sun filtered through the crumbling wall, making him blink in the harsh light and dust.

Mujhe tumse mohabat hai … Mujhe tumse mohabat hai … Love you, love you…

And she taught him a valuable lesson that day. Everyone dies. And when they do, there is no dignity, no graceful passing from this world to the next. There’s blood and desperation, a clinging to anything solid while the heart betrays the brain, refusing to pump the oxygen to keep the darkness at bay.

Even before his thirteenth birthday, Sohail Pirzada was forced to flee his home in eastern Pakistan, along with his father, cousins, and thousands of other refugees. When the shadow of India stretched across the land, few alternatives were offered to his people, other than to run.

And running became his vocation.

Moving from one refugee camp to the next, often in the middle of the night to avoid the authorities or ruthless gangs, Halo found his way to Australia. And the running continued, only now it involved keeping one step ahead of the law as he turned his hand to shoplifting and small cons. His father was harsh, but the words and hand of a broken man were never enough to keep Halo standing still and compliant for long.

He withdrew into his own world, not trusting anyone. He could read what they really thought, sometimes things that they didn’t even realize they were thinking. School teachers with cruel thoughts hidden behind empty but smiling praise. Uncles who hated to even look at him, or wished he was dead. Men of faith who cheated and stole. No one had a clear conscience. Everyone hid a dark stain.

It wasn’t until he stole a necklace from an old Russian man that Halo met a force able to stop him in his tracks. And even now, years later, it was the Russian who was threatening to undermine everything Halo had built in the man’s absence. For five years, he moved his way through a series of underworld cartels, offering his services here, impressing the right people there. At each point he would glean information from his new employers without them knowing. A single look in their eyes and the whole network opened up for him: secret dealings, alliances, important names and numbers, locations of caches, passwords.

But the Mad Russian had returned.

And he had demanded unbroken allegiance.

“You are my hands in this,” he said. “The little god of vengeance.”

Halo wanted to say he wasn’t so little anymore, but his pride was held back by survival instincts. The only way to stay alive was to stay useful, and so he had been deployed to the old house with a simple instruction and no room for negotiation.

The house was rancid.

Grim sat in a cane-backed chair, rubbing at himself, his skin red under the thick bush of hair which ran the length of his arm. He offered Halo a coffee but the mug remained untouched on the kitchen bench.

“You have something for me?” Grim asked with a voice one step away from panic. “Something from Galkin?”

“You haven’t been a very good soldier,” Halo said.

“I have,” Grim barked, rising a little from his chair. Halo raised his finger and the old man sat back down, his hands now in his lap. “I have always done what was asked, always.”

“In the old times, probably, but with the Russian out of the picture you got a bit sloppy.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“We all did,” Halo said. “Some of us got a little carried away with it though, wouldn’t you say?”

“I only wanted to retire, to leave this mess.”

“Come here,” Halo said, and he stepped closer and took the man’s chin in his gloved hand, pulling it up so he could look into the old man’s eyes.

“Halo… I only wanted it to end.”

“And it will,” Halo said.

There was a brief flash of light, bursting from within Halo’s eyes, and the old man relaxed a little, held by the power of Halo’s mind forcing its way inside his own.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…

Three seconds…

He’ll kill us all… the world will burn if he’s not stopped…

Four seconds, and it was done.

Grim’s head slumped backward, his glassy eyes looking to the ceiling.

Halo slid the knife out from under Grim’s ribs, and wiped it on the man’s pajama pants. Two wipes, one for each side, and the blade was new again.

“The Russian doesn’t like strays,” he said softly. “You knew that, just as well as I did.”

There were noises from the front of the house and his fingers tensed around the blade’s handle. Three knocks and he knew he had to move quickly. He tucked the blade into a sheath hidden under the waistband of his jeans, and grabbed the back of Grim’s chair. With a quick kick, the chair tilted to lean on its back legs, and Halo dragged it to the walk-in pantry, pleased with himself that blood hadn’t leaked out to the floor.

The front door opened.

He pulled the chair right into the small room and jammed it against a wall of shelves. Grim’s body slumped to the right but remained wedged there and safe from discovery.

Halo stepped around the chair and listened at the door.

There were voices, and as he recognized Dan Galkin, a smile crept across his face. He looked back to the dead man and shook a finger at him.

“You sly old dog,” he said.

He opened the door and slipped quietly into the room. He saw the girl first, but Dan was there in the room as well. He looked fresh enough, which was surprising, considering the damage done in the city. He pulled off his gloves and tossed them into the pantry.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Miranda Brody looked at him wide-eyed.

Dan seemed a little surprised as well.

“Halo.”

Halo smiled and leaned against the door.

“The same,” he said. “Although I’ve got to ask what you’re doing here.”

Dan walked closer, coming to a stop about the place where Halo had killed Grim. Miranda stepped back until she was beside him.

“Where’s Grim?” Dan asked, although his eyes were trained on the floor just in front of Halo. Dan remembered what Halo could do.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I was hoping you two were him, actually.” He cocked his chin towards Miranda. “Who’s your friend?”

“Elley,” she said quickly. Halo smiled.

“Funny, but you look like Miranda Brody.”

“I need to see Grim,” Dan said. “Do you know where he could be? It’s kind of urgent.”

“Has this got something to do with our favorite psychopathic grandfather?”

Dan didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Halo looked to Miranda but she wasn’t looking at him either.

“Thing is, you’re a wanted man. A guy called Curtis came and offered me money to tell him everything I knew about you.”

“Typical.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Halo said. “But I found out a lot when we got close enough. Guy didn’t even wear shades, like some amateur sent to the slaughter. The thing is, this Curtis guy, was hired by Grim. Mad Russian is back and he’s got this idea to get his mates back at the table so they can run the old games, as if nothing’s happened, you know?”

He stepped away from the pantry door, towards the kitchen basin.

“Imagine sending someone to me for information and not protecting themselves,” he said, with his back turned. “So I figured it was a trick.”

“They tried to kill me,” Dan said softly.

“I know. Seraphima and explosives from your pop.”

Halo turned around again. Dan was standing closer, along the bench, but still not looking his way.

“What did you do to the Curtis guy?” Dan asked.

Halo laughed and play-punched Dan on the shoulder.

“I stabbed him in the guts and hid him in the pantry.”

Dan smiled.

“I’m not kidding,” Halo said. But then he smiled widely and grabbed Dan’s shoulder, turning him around and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” Dan said and then pulled away.

“Liar,” Halo said, smiling again.

“Have you seen my grandfather?”

“Not for a while,” Halo said. “Not since he died. Still, I don’t think he’ll give a toss about me anymore. You’re the prodigal grandson, so with you in the picture I figure I can do whatever I want. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

He pulled Dan’s hand up and studied the metal cuff.

“That’s Grim’s work.”

“I know,” Dan said. “I need to get it off me and then get out of Melbourne.”

“I need to stay alive,” Halo said. “Helping you can get me noticed. My life’s my own.”

“We’ve got money,” Miranda said.

“So have I,” he said. “Thing is, I don’t like the fact they sent this Curtis guy to shake me down.”

He looked at Miranda and she smiled under his scrutiny.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll take you to people. They can make anyone disappear, and all it’ll cost you is a bit of time with your friend here. Elley is it?”

She nodded.

“You look like Miranda Brody.”

“You look like you listen to her music,” Miranda said.

He laughed again.

“Where are these people?” Dan asked.

“Chinatown, of course,” Halo said. “But it’s not about going straight to the source. There’s a dance to it, a weaving through place to get to the final destination.”

He was talking to Miranda now, always to the girl.

“So, Elley, do you wanna see the real Melbourne?” he asked her.

Chapter 20

Dan

H
alo weaved Miranda
through the night, sweeping her into alleys with live music and then out again into night markets peppered with Asian cuisine. His voice was smooth and assured, even more so than his movements which showed that Melbourne was his town, and it unfolded according to his command.

Dan hated him.

In fact, as Dan trailed behind the laughter and animated critiques of the world of food and music, he admitted that he’d always hated Halo. He’d hated him on the first day, back when they were brought together under the pretense of becoming the next generation of heroes. For years he’d put up with Halo’s desperation to come out on top. It didn’t matter that no one else was playing the game. Halo made sure he was the winner and that everyone else around him was crushed in the process. The Mad Russian often compared Halo and Dan, and no one was ever left with any doubt about where the old man’s favors fell.

“This isn’t your lucky night is it?” Halo’s voice reached Dan and he looked up to see Halo leaning against the brick wall, his head angled down towards Miranda who looked up at him like some groupie. There was something wrong with the image: the loud, cocky and rude Miranda suddenly being tamed by Halo of all people.

Dan hated mind powers.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she said. “Luck changes all the time.”

Halo took on the look of being impressed by her insight, his eyes flashing in the semi-darkness, but Dan knew it was just another strategic move. He caught up and looked around, noticing that the alley had been done up in various tags and graffiti. He traced a Lizard Boy tag with his finger. It was fresh.

“Nice dead-end,” he mumbled.

“I’ve got to show you this one last place,” Halo said. He turned around and the afterglow of his powers was still in his eyes, sinking back into his head. Halo could steal ideas, memories and feelings. All he had to do was flash his eyes at you and he’d gain access to every one of your secrets.

The way he moved should have given Dan a warning; like a panther casually leading prey to a clearing. Dan didn’t really know whether panthers led prey to clearings, but when the three of them slipped through an old door in the alley and then down stairs to a basement, it was the first image that formed in his head.

“Bastard,” he breathed.

But behind the heavy door was a thumping cocktail of light and sound. A bouncer gave Halo a thumbs-up and let them inside. Dan pressed his hand against his temple, pushing back the throbbing pain that lingered there. The bracelet was making him feel sick.

Miranda appeared in front of him. She smiled widely, almost as if she had no problems in her life. He felt bad that he’d let Halo soften her anxiety, let him take away her fear with his golden eyes. But she was out of her depth and he had to keep her protected until they could get out of the city.

“Come on,” she said, and pulled him towards a booth where Halo was waiting with his arm along the back, waiting for Miranda to return. Dan nodded and let himself be dragged deeper inside.

Drinks appeared as he fell into the seat and he mouthed a thanks to Halo. His arm was around Miranda’s shoulder now, but his eyes were on Dan. Even in the pulsing light and shadow of the club his eyes were golden. He was weaving his magic.

“You still like the brain dead girls?” Dan asked across the noise. Halo laughed. Miranda didn’t seem to understand.

“It’s my specialty, Dan,” Halo said. “How often do you use the TV remote?”

“I don’t think it’s the same thing,” Dan said.

“I think it is.”

He pulled Miranda a little closer, although she seemed more drawn to the dance floor. Dan felt a tremor of hope that Halo’s influence wouldn’t stick forever.

“Hey,” Halo said, close to her ear. “Have a look at this guy.”

Miranda turned and looked at Dan. She had relaxed. Any threat she felt an hour ago was gone, and part of Dan wished they were still running for their lives. He would prefer the barbed comments to the honey-glow of infatuation that Halo dripped over her.

“Have you noticed how much this guy talks?” Halo asked.

Miranda smiled and sipped from her drink.

“All talk,” Halo added. “You know the rest.”

“Yeah,” Miranda nodded.

“He’s not really your type, is he? I mean, the boy scout thing gets a little dull around the age of, what, twelve?”

Miranda laughed and Halo leaned closer to her. His fingers were playing with hers in her lap, intertwining. Dan felt a wave of nausea again and sat back.

“He’s a special guy, though,” Halo continued. “Special, like freak show special. The boy’s mum is his aunt, his uncle’s his dad, classic fucked up genes.”

Dan wished he had access to his powers. As he forced himself to breathe deeply he imagined Halo being thrown backward across the floor, arcs of electricity feeding on him from all directions.

Miranda looked confused, as if she were calculating something in her head.

“Is that true?” she asked him, leaning away from Halo, across the table, where her hands cradled his glass. Halo gathered her hands again and brought them back to her lap.

“His grandfather’s a great man, Miranda, but he’s a villain: a calculating cold-blooded, whack job villain. What’d you expect?”

All Dan could see was the wideness of Miranda’s eyes. He’d let her become duped by Halo just so he could have the time to work out a solution. And it wasn’t working. It never did.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dan said and slid across the booth’s seat.

“Dan, wait,” Miranda said, grabbing his arm. “I’m not judging you.”

Dan pulled himself free.

“Of course not. Who would judge this crap?”

As he stood up, he nearly collected a waitress. She was suddenly right there in front of him. He started to apologize but then saw who it was, and stopped.

“Hello Dan,” she said. Her face was porcelain or ice, and he could feel the coldness cascading off her. They were too close, and she stepped back, her face remaining politely impassive.

“Her name’s Lily,” Halo said, his arm draped over Miranda’s shoulders in the booth. “We go way back. Sometimes Danny forgets about that, forgets about who he is, where he comes from.”

“Come with me, please,” she said softly, bowing so that her sleek black hair fell to the sides of her face. She raised her head again and turned, walking back through the club, her black dress swishing elegantly in her wake. Dan shrugged his way into the crowd after her.

“Don’t worry,” Halo called out. “I’ll look after your celebrity girlfriend.”