Twenty Twelve (28 page)

‘Ronnie.’

She still doesn’t answer.

I take another step into the cottage and am hit by a wall of toxic fumes that makes me bend at the waist, spluttering. Tears spring into my eyes and I have to blink to clear my vision.

When I’ve recovered myself enough to stand upright, I find Ronnie motionless at the door to what must be a bedroom, seemingly transfixed. Gagging, I make my way past a table piled high with hundreds of packets of over-the-counter cold and flu pills. On the floor are twenty or more bright yellow bottles of antifreeze.

Ronnie still hasn’t moved and when I reach her, I can see why. There are no bunk beds in the bedroom. Instead, there is a Formica table weighed down with oversized glass vials set on camping stoves. An intricate set of tubes runs from their mouths to hooks on the ceiling and down into plastic containers on the floor.

‘What the fuck are you doing in here?’

Ronnie and I both spin to the sound and find Hawk in the doorway, his weapon pointing right at us.

Carole-Ann tracked Clem down in the car park, squatting by the boot of his car, rubbing at the dent in the bumper with a handkerchief.

‘What happened?’

‘Don’t ask,’ said Clem. ‘Have they found anything?’

Carole-Ann see-sawed her hand. ‘Sebastian has a theory.’

‘Sebastian?’

Carole-Ann mimed putting up her collar.

Collar-boy was called Sebastian? Well, that was about right.

Clem straightened up, his knees giving an almighty crack and sighed. ‘This had better be good.’

Sebastian was surrounded by balled pieces of paper when Clem arrived. The mess he had created in less than two hours was incredible.

‘I’m told you have a theory.’

Sebastian turned from the PC, pen lodged sideways in his teeth and nodded.

‘We’ve all been checking the times when we know Petal was logged in at LookingforLadies.’ He spat the pen out. ‘A few of us have found him.’

Krish nodded his agreement, as did a young woman with a bees’ nest of blonde hair knotted loosely on top of her head.

Sebastian patted the PC in front of him. ‘For example, this one was used by Petal to speak to Tommy on the twenty-eighth of June.’

Clem grabbed a chair and sat next to the young man.

‘The trouble is, our man didn’t use this PC for anything else that day,’ said Sebastian.

‘Are you sure?’

Sebastian shrugged. ‘I think so. The user before sent emails back to Australia; the one after was checking out property porn. If you think about it, it makes sense. Our man uses one session to cruise LookingforLadies, then moves on.’

‘Always covering his tracks?’

‘Exactly,’ said Sebastian.

Clem looked around the room at the other computers. There was no way of knowing which internet café he would go to next, or even if he would go straight away. Needles and haystacks sprang to mind. ‘So what’s your theory?’

‘He knows that perpetual motion will keep him safe. He needs to log off and use another computer, maybe go home first, then come out again later that day, use a different café.’

‘And?’

‘And in reality who could be arsed to do that?’ said Sebastian.

Clem shook his head. Only someone so young could come up with something as idiotic as that. ‘My long experience of terrorists is that they can be arsed to do all sorts of things,’ he retorted.

‘Lucky for you, this one was different. He just got himself a coffee and used the next one that became free.’ Sebastian pushed his seat along the desk until he was in front of the next PC.

‘You are kidding me?’

Sebastian laughed and shook his head. ‘He logged out of that one after ten. By half past, he’s using this one on the same site.’

Clem rubbed his hands. ‘If your theory holds, then all we need to do is check the other computers in the same café, whenever we find Petal looking for ladies.’

‘Already doing that,’ said Sebastian and pointed at the small girl with the big hair. ‘Emily found Petal on the twenty-ninth of June. She’s checking the other PCs now.’

Clem gave a wordless sound of satisfaction. It was only a matter of time before they found something.

‘What the fuck are you doing in here?’ Hawk repeats, the end of his gun only a foot from my forehead.

My fear reflects back at me from his sunglasses.

‘I could ask you the same question.’ Ronnie’s voice is brittle.

I can see right into the barrel; it’s like a black tunnel that wants to suck me in.

‘Of all the things you could do and you spend your time making crystal meth.’ Ronnie raises her voice a fraction. ‘You used to want to change things, not become part of the problem.’

Hawk’s hand quivers slightly. ‘The things we do need to be paid for, Ronnie.’

‘By selling drugs?’ Her voice takes on the hard edge of anger.

‘How do you think the state operates, Ronnie? How do you think it pays for all its armies and police?’ He takes a step towards us and I wince. ‘Alcohol, cigarettes and gambling, that’s how. Fight fire with fire, I say. It’s the only way.’

Ronnie points to the door. ‘Do those men out there know how you fund all this?’

‘They don’t ask stupid questions.’

Ronnie shakes her head violently. ‘Have you been in the cities? Entire generations have been ruined by drugs.’ She’s shouting now. ‘They’ve had their lives ripped from them and I can’t believe you of all people can get involved in that.’

‘Read your history, Ronnie. Governments ruin people’s lives,’ he says. ‘They want us to be poor and miserable so we’ll work for the paymaster no matter how little they offer or how dangerous it is. And when there’s no work for us to do, they just want to keep us quiet.’

Ronnie steps in front of me so that the gun is almost touching her, then she pushes it down with her hand. ‘What about you?’ She points to the mark on his arm. ‘Why are you using this stuff?’

Hawk lets the gun fall to his side. ‘Seeing you again. It made my head break in two.’

‘Oh, Isaac,’ says Ronnie and puts her hand on his shoulder.

He jumps away as if her touch burns. ‘Don’t call me that.’

‘I’m sorry.’

They look at one another for a long moment.

‘You should leave now,’ says Hawk.

I for one don’t need to be told twice.

The prosecutor is called Mr Stakinsky, which doesn’t sound like an American name. He’s twice as tall as Bert and three times as wide. He wears his hair slicked over his ears with grease and each day a different colour handkerchief peeps out from his breast pocket
.

Today’s is cornflower blue
.

‘Isaac,’ he says. ‘May I call you Isaac?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Isaac says
.

‘Can you tell me about your mama?’ he asks
.

‘What would you like to know, sir?’

‘Was she a Christian woman?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Read her Bible?’

‘Every day, sir,’ I say
.

Mr Stakinsky nods and checks his notes. ‘You told the court earlier that on the day Officer Shaw was killed, your mama declared that the End Times had arrived, is that right?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Was that the first time she’d thought that?’

Isaac shakes his head. ‘Oh no, sir.’

Mr Stakinsky leans against the desk and grins. ‘My grandma was just the same. Wasn’t a week went by that she wasn’t announcing the end of the world.’

Bert gets to his feet and looks up at the judge. ‘Your honour, I don’t know if my colleague intends to ask a question soon, or if he’d rather take the stand himself.’

The judge nods her head. ‘Mr Stakinsky, get to the point.’

He holds up his hands to her then turns back to me. ‘What I’m getting at, Isaac, is if your mama made these proclamations regularly, why on this particular occasion did you believe her?’

‘On account of there being policemen with guns in our yard, sir.’

The jury chuckle, though Isaac didn’t intend to make a joke. It makes a small tic appear at the corner of Mr Stakinsky’s eye
.

‘Let’s change tack,’ he says. ‘Why did your mama and you go outside?’

‘The policeman told us to.’

‘They wanted to talk to you?’ he asks
.

‘So they said.’

‘Why did you take your guns?’

‘Mama handed me it.’

‘Why?’

‘To protect ourselves.’

‘From what?’

Isaac shrugs. ‘From us getting killed, I guess.’

‘You guess?’ Mr Stakinsky turns to the jury. ‘You went out armed because your mama “guessed” they might shoot you?’

‘As it turned out, it was a pretty good guess, sir.’

His whole eye is twitching now. ‘Let me get to the bottom of what you’re trying to say here, Isaac. The idea that these policemen were the servants of the Devil was your mama’s. And it was your mama’s decision to arm yourselves. And it was your mama who took the first shot.’

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to say, sir.’

‘Seems to me, Isaac,’ he goes on, ‘you’re trying to put the whole blame on someone who’s not here today to defend themselves.’

Isaac turns to the judge in panic. ‘I would never disrespect my mama. Never.’

‘Just tell the truth,’ she says. ‘Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘Where was your daddy when this whole nightmare took place?’ asks Mr Stakinsky
.

Isaac’s throat has closed over and when he tries to speak all that comes out is a squeak
.

‘Take a drink, Isaac,’ says the judge
.

Isaac pours himself some water from the plastic jug in front of him, almost dropping the glass because his hands are shaking so bad. Mr Stakinsky raps his fingers on his desk as if Isaac were deliberately wasting time
.

‘Out fishing with my brother, Noah,’ Isaac answers eventually
.

‘Why didn’t you go?’

‘I’d been sick the night before, sir,’ says Isaac
.

Mr Stakinsky gives a low whistle. ‘I bet that made you mad. A boy like you needs to be out in the fresh country air.’

‘I wasn’t too happy about it, sir.’

‘I expect you’re a good fisherman, Isaac.’

‘I do okay, sir.’

‘And hunting?’ he asks. ‘You a good shot?’

‘Not bad, sir.’

He wags at finger at me. ‘I know pride is a sin, Isaac, but you’re under oath here, so why don’t you tell us just what a good shot you are.’

‘A very good shot, sir.’

‘Better than your elder brother?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And your daddy could trust you to protect the family while he was gone?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Mr Stakinsky nods and taps his pad of paper with his finger. ‘What was the last thing your daddy told you before he left that morning?’

Isaac takes another sip of water. He’s played that scene a thousand times in his mind, enjoying his daddy’s deep voice, the kind smile on his lips
.

‘He said he was putting me in charge,’ Isaac says. ‘That I was the man of the house.’

I pace between my bunk and the porch, waiting for Ronnie. She didn’t follow me back to the cabin and I’ve no idea where she is. I sit on the steps, still clutching the rifle in one hand, swatting flies from my face with the other.

At midday the Serbs troop back down the hill. The sight of me dishevelled and armed doesn’t seem to bother them. ‘Okay?’ asks the English-speaking one.

I give a nod.

‘Good weapon.’ He points to the rifle. ‘Direct hit possible at very long range.’

I nod again and he shows me his rifle. ‘Excellent for sniper.’

I gulp down my horror and smile.

‘We train hard today,’ he tells me. ‘And you?’

‘Yes,’ I say.

‘We rest now,’ he adds. ‘More practice this afternoon.’

‘Good idea,’ I mutter and they go inside.

Relief washes over me when Ronnie finally appears. It’s not that I trust her, or even feel safe in her company, it’s just that at this moment in time she is the nearest I’ve got to ballast.

‘Where have you been?’ I ask, jumping to my feet.

‘Thinking.’

Jesus, couldn’t she have done that at the cabin? My mind has been working overtime since Hawk caught us in his cottage and I’ve come the same conclusion a million times.

‘We need to get out of here, Ronnie.’

She frowns at me.

‘I’m serious. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that Hawk and the rest of these guys will never let us walk out of here.’

Ronnie shakes her head.

‘C’mon. We’ve just discovered a meth factory in a terrorist training camp.’ I raise my voice. ‘There is no way they’re going to risk us getting out of here to tell anyone.’

‘Hawk knows I would never give him up,’ she says. ‘He trusts me.’

‘Maybe he does, but he sure as hell doesn’t trust me,’ I hiss, banging the porch rail with my fist.

Ronnie shushes me, finger to her lips and I drop my voice.

‘He’s not going to let me get off this island,’ I whisper. ‘I’m part of the establishment and everything he despises. He’s going to find a reason to kill me and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Ronnie looks into the distance. This thought has obviously occurred to her too.

‘We could leave now, while everyone is resting,’ I say. ‘Just keep walking until we get back to the beach. The plane must still be there.’

‘No,’ she says.

‘You could fly me back to the mainland and then take off to some place far, far away from all of this.’

‘No.’ Her tone is final. ‘I can’t betray my brother.’

‘What if he’s going to betray you?’ I ask. ‘What if he plans to get rid of both of us?’

‘He would never do that.’

I throw the gun down into the dust.

‘You don’t understand, Jo,’ she says. ‘You haven’t lost your family like we did.’

‘You think you know it all, Ronnie, but you don’t.’ I point at her. ‘You know absolutely nothing about me or my family.’ I go back to my bunk, slamming the door so hard the walls rattle.