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“Thank you,” he twinkles. “I look forward to it,”
“Us too.”
Shaun shakes his hand.
“You’ve been a lifesaver, Joe.”
He will never know how true that is.
I get out of the car, trying my best to hide the pain as I put my ankle to the floor and wave him cheerfully away.
We perch ourselves on a picnic bench next to a family enjoying a picnic.
Seeing me eyeing up the chicken legs on the next table Shaun hands me the muesli bar from the rucksack.
“Gee, thanks.”
I split it with him.
“What next?”
???
The two Poms weren’t at the lodge.
Cobra King’s boys had taken hours. Precious time had been ticking away. What with getting new spark-plug leads in town and then hangin’ around the lake on the way back watching out for them.
“What about the dead-end tracks? Did someone check them out?”
Nik glanced shiftily at an older biker standing by the quad bike, his inked arms folded defensively.
“All the blind cut-offs had been already marked out.”
“What the..?”
Nik nodded back at the biker and they all waited apprehensively for King to speak.
“Get the boy here. Now.”
“Aw, King…”
The boss gave the older biker, Rawiri’s father, a withering look.
“Leave it, cus,” the guy next to him mumbled.
The father hung his head and spat.
“I’ll go get him.”
Rawiri was over by the dogs mending the broken shed.
He’d seen the men coming and going all morning. Keeping out of the way, making yourself busy was harder than it looked.
“Boss wants to see ya, son.”
The look in his dad’s eyes confirmed he was in deep shit.
???
Eleven and a half thousand miles, two days solid stuck in a seat in the air to be told on arrival that Sion Edwards and Claire Williams had slipped through the net.
Irish slammed his boot hard into the flimsy side table, sending the tea and coffee tray flying across his Dargarei motel room.
Bollocks!
Slamming the door behind him Irish left the motel and started marching into town, trying to manage the rage welling up inside of him. They couldn’t be far. A couple of Brits fresh off the plane. They must stand out like sore thumbs in a place like this. Like him.
He paced angrily along the bank of the muddy river, following it towards the centre of town. He had to get on top of the problem. Find out more. If these bloody amateurs couldn’t do, he’d have a pop at them himself. Do the job and then go home. Easy peasy. Calmer now and with the kernel of a plan, Irish walked along the main street of this Hicksville town.
Something about Dargarei reminded him of back home. Not now, but back in the day, before the malls and the internet. It had the kind of locally owned stores where everyone knew you, like The Beatles wrote about in Penny Lane.
He strolled into a large cafe bar halfway along the street. Its name, big and bright on the front hoardings gave him the impression that this was the main joint in town. And there were a fair few punters in there from what he could see from the outside. Surely, Sion or Claire had found their way in here?
He ordered an Americano at the counter, spying as he did so the whisky bottle on the top shelf.
“And a double shot of that Red Label,” he said pointing to it.
The whisky was Scottish but it’d do.
The long-haired woman with a big green necklace behind the counter raised an eyebrow.
“Tough day, huh?”
She passed him first the coffee, then the double generously poured out without a measure.
“Yeah, summat like that.”
“You’re not from around these parts, eh?”
He instinctively clammed up and then checked himself, forcing a smile.
“I’m looking for a Claire Williams. She’s a friend of mine. Don’t happen to know her, do ya? Or where she’s stayin’?”
“Yeah, hun, just happens I do.”
The attractive woman beamed back at him and then pointed to a row of canvas photographs on the wall.
“She lives there.”
Irish studied the row of canvas photographs on the wall. They were the same shot taken at different times of the day and mounted in sequence, moving from the pink light of misty dawn through to a golden sunset out over the water. The girl had talent. Pity that those photos would be her last.
“That’s some place.”
“Claire did those. Haven’t told her yet. The canvases came yesterday and they all sold in less than an hour. I’ve kept them up until she can order more and I’ve sold ten more of the early morning one.”
“Can you give me directions?”
She scrawled a basic route for him onto a paper napkin and he pocketed it in his jeans.
“And you are?”
“Irish.”
“Is that even a name?”
His icy stare sent a shiver running through her.
“So, how exactly d’ya know Claire, again?” she uttered a little shakily.
Knocking back the whisky in a single swallow Irish left the coffee untouched and handed her a fifty.
“Keep the change, love.”
On his way out of the door he tried not to stare at the tough young man with a fully tattooed face striding past him into the cafe.
“Nik.”
Tia smiled uneasily as she turned back from the till and saw her cousin coming through the door.
He sat down on a stool at the counter, sweeping away the full coffee cup and the empty glass in front of him.
Tia began hastily clearing the cup and glass. Nik stretched his hand out, covering her arm and clamping it fast against the countertop.
“So… Claire Williams?” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “Heard that she’s a mate of yours?”
“Uh …Yeah, Nah, Nik …Why you askin’? What’s it to you? The pale fulla you passed at the door was askin’ the same thing?”
“He was?”
“Yeah. Called himself Irish.”
Nik spun around, even though he knew the guy was long gone.
“Nik? Cus?”
He turned back and she met her cousin’s eye, holding his gaze.
“You gotta minute?”
Nik nodded.
“Not here. Upstairs. We need to talk.”
Chapter 21
---------?---------
“Wait here and keep watch.”
Shaun kisses me lightly on the lips then dashes from the bushes where we’re hiding, across the track and up towards the lodge and the barn.
Three bikes came past us when we were on the road to the lake, but Shaun needs to be sure that they’ve not left one of their biker goons as a watchman.
Ten minutes later he’s back.
“I think they’re gone but for now, we’re best hiding in the barn.”
“The barn?”
“You’ll see.”
I hold onto his shoulder and we move cautiously across the yard.
On seeing me, the hens scratching in the coop start to squawk, totally giving away our position.
“Traitors,” I hiss at them as we pass.
He shakes his head.
“In all my special forces missions, I’ve never been sold out by a bunch of hens.”
Inside the barn he leads me through to the second chamber in the shed and gets the ladder out, leaning it carefully against a beam.
“Is your ankle alright to climb up?”
“Yes.”
I carefully step up the rungs, intrigued.
“Woah! It’s a good job I didn’t know about this.”
At the top of the ladder is a concealed loft space kitted out with camping basics. A mattress and pillows, a blanket, a lamp, a basic stove.
“Why?”
“Ce
lia told me off for accepting the job over the internet without doing checks on you first. She said how did I know that you weren’t some weirdo who locks up women in basements. Or sells them to the Asian sex market, whatever that is.”
“She said that about me?”
His bright blue eyes widen.
“Not exactly. She told me you were a real nice bloke.”
