Prohibited Zone (27 page)

First there was a buzz of panic but it only lasted a moment. Then there was clarity. I was going to die. I felt no fear, then, just instant peace, warmth in the sudden dark wash of the universe. It's all over, I thought, without emotion. The orange light tolled for me, summoning me to wherever the hell I was going next, which was probably nowhere. Images came to my mind. I saw my mother's face, how she had been just before she died, struck down by a cancer I called Dad, and I realised I still missed her. I saw him, too, after he had found another woman to do his washing. I realised I didn't miss him nearly as much.

Then I reacted. I twitched the steering wheel just a couple of degrees to the left and we flashed past the maintenance van, missing it by a gap about the same as the distance between eternity and me. I corrected the other way and we swerved our way down the remainder of the hill. Saira made no sound. Perhaps she had her eyes shut. My heart was berserk.

We were going too fast when we hit the intersection with Main South Road. I stabbed the brake and turned the wheel in roughly the right direction. We skidded onto and over the median strip and into the oncoming lane, which was empty except for us. We nearly rolled. Two wheels lost touch with the planet. I would have held my breath if I'd had any. Then we won our battle with gravity and the car slammed back onto all fours. I floored the pedal again and we raced to the intersection with Flinders Drive, where we repeated the turning procedure in a way that got us back onto the left-hand side of the road, still the right way up. I gunned it again. I swear the whole manoeuvre could not have been done more quickly without breaking at least two laws of physics.

We took Flinders Drive up an incline past the front entrance of the medical centre and hung a right onto the ring road. It was a huge campus, and buildings had been built further and further up the hill as the university had expanded. The ring road did a lap more-or-less along the outer perimeter; the turn-offs to biology, physical sciences and information technology flicked past us in a blur of civilisation.

Car park number three was perched at the top of a hill on the right-hand side of the ring road. The gate had been opened and we swung our way in. I braked the car and looked around. The car park was illuminated dimly by lights mounted on fifteen-metre-high concrete poles in each of its four corners. The bitumen surface was divided into double rows of parking bays. Each set had a spine of concrete curbing, from which the white lines of individual bays jutted at right angles. At their ends, the spines were punctuated by crescent-shaped traffic islands growing stunted eucalypts that were gleaming like ghosts.

The car park was empty. I looked at my watch and pressed its light. It was one oh eight, twenty-one minutes after Janeway's call.

‘Where is the fucker?' I muttered. We did a quick lap of the car park and I spied an open boomgate. I drove through it into another, smaller car park set against a steel-mesh fence. There was more vegetation here, fewer parking bays and no floodlights. At the far end, a set of headlights flashed on and off. I stopped, killed the engine and wound down the window. An easterly breeze was stirring the eucalypts, which shivered and whispered and continued to gleam. There was an evil stench in the air, maybe the smoke of burning rubber catching up with us.

‘Turn off your lights,' called a voice, Janeway's. I did as instructed. ‘Now get out of the car, both of you.'

I looked at Saira. Her face was set as hard as the moon. We hadn't spoken since we had left Port Willunga. I had been too busy driving to give her much thought, and maybe she had been too busy thinking about her fate at the hands of Janeway. But she didn't look scared or even worried. She wore no expression at all. Her face could have been a plaster cast, a death mask.

‘I'm sorry,' I said.

She turned to me. ‘No, do not be sorry.'

‘But how can I let you go to that prick? I just don't know what else to do.'

‘Do not worry.'

‘That's easy for you to say.' Remarkably, she smiled. I held out my phone. ‘Do you know how to use one of these?'

‘Yes.'

‘Do you have somewhere you can put it?'

‘Yes.'

‘Take it, then.'

‘Thank you.' She took the phone and tucked it inside her chador.

We got out of the car.

‘Walk forward a few paces,' yelled Janeway. ‘West, put your hands in the air and keep them there.'

‘First time at university is it, Janeway?' I called.

‘Shove it, West. Stop there. Okay, boys, check it out.'

A couple of men dressed in black emerged from bushes beside us and went to the car. I heard them opening doors and the boot. Torch light flashed discreetly.

‘Empty,' they called.

‘Good,' said Janeway. I could make him out now, a vague figure in the dim light, his hands hanging loose. Behind and above him, a few lights from houses in Bellevue Heights shone through the trees. They were dotted along the ridge of another hill, several hundred metres away. The car park seemed to lead nowhere, but I guessed there was another exit – probably just a dirt track – in the forest behind Janeway's car. It would be his escape route if any cops or university security guards happened along.

‘Bucky, go close the gate and stand guard,' called Janeway. ‘Let us know if there's any sign of security or if this prick has brought a friend. PJ, stand off to one side and point your torch and your gun at West. If he farts, shoot him up the arse.'

PJ positioned himself a few metres in front of me and to the right. He directed a powerful light into my eyes, making it impossible for me to tell if he really did have a gun. I could no longer see Janeway, either.

‘Janeway, you're in deep shit.'

PJ laughed.

‘What are you on, West?' yelled Janeway. ‘You're the one in deep shit.'

‘Don't make things worse. Let Lucy go.'

‘I only want the Afghan bitch.'

‘This isn't the way. Let them both go.'

Janeway laughed. ‘Keep drivelling, West. You have a gift for it.'

I lowered my voice so it couldn't be heard by Janeway.

‘Come on, PJ. You don't really want to be part of this, do you? For what? A lousy few thousand dollars? I'll pay you five if you help me out here.'

PJ didn't bother replying.

‘Tell the bitch to walk towards me,' called Janeway.

‘Not until I see Lucy.' I cut the volume on my voice again. ‘What do you say, PJ?'

‘He's offering me money,' yelled PJ. ‘Five grand. Should I take it?'

Janeway laughed. ‘You'd never see it. He's just pissing in his own pocket.'

PJ sniggered.

I heard a car door open and close.

‘Here's Lucy!' yelled Janeway, mimicking the TV show. ‘She's a bit annoyed you were only a couple of minutes late because she didn't have time to suck my dick.'

‘Let me see her. I can't see anything with this light in my eyes.'

‘That's the idea, fuck-brain. Now, I want the Afghan bitch walking towards me.'

‘I don't think so.'

‘I don't think so,' mimicked Janeway. PJ laughed again. ‘Listen to this, West.'

There was a muted cry and then a voice, a husky, scared, angry voice.

‘You are an animal.' It was Lucy.

‘Come on, you liked that when I did it to you before,' said Janeway – loudly, to make sure I could hear.

‘Janeway, one day I'm going to take a chainsaw to your balls,' I said.

Janeway laughed. So did PJ from behind his torch and alleged gun. ‘Relax, West, she and I are getting on fine. Tell the bitch to walk to me.'

‘Don't,' I said to Saira. ‘Let me figure something out.'

But Saira had already started. She took a few paces, her hands lost inside her chador, and stopped.

‘When Saira moves, Lucy moves,' I yelled.

Lucy came into view, her hands behind her back, and Saira resumed her measured walk. The two women crossed about halfway. Lucy stumbled and regained her balance. She didn't take her eyes off me until I took her in my arms.

‘It's okay now,' I said.

‘Do you think so?' In those four words her voice climbed about an octave.

‘I'm sorry,' I said.

Her face was against my shoulder.

‘That's sweet,' said PJ. I took Lucy by her upper arms and eased her away from me. I wanted a clear swing at PJ if I ever got the chance.

‘How many men does he have?' I whispered. She didn't seem to hear. I started to repeat the question when there was a scream at the top of the car park. It was a scream of pain and shock, starting high and finishing low. But it wasn't Saira. Instinctively PJ turned his torch to take a look. It was a mistake. I ran towards him and swung my fist into the side of his head. There was a lot of anger in my fist and he fell like a wet towel. I grabbed his torch, which had fallen with him, and shone it on him. He was out cold and my hand hurt, but it hurt good. His gun lay close by and I picked it up. It wasn't a Beretta. There was a safety catch on the side; I made sure it was on and put the gun in the waistband of my jeans. Then I switched off the torch, grabbed Lucy by the arm and pulled her into a clump of bushes. Her hands were bound behind her with duct tape. I ripped it with my teeth and pulled it off. She immediately straightened her clothes, then squatted down and put her arms around her knees.

‘How many with Janeway?' I whispered again.

‘Two. The guy you just hit, and one other.'

‘Bucky?'

‘Yes.'

‘Wait here.'

Still holding the torch and grabbing the gun I re-emerged from the bushes and walked to the top of the car park. Someone was moaning. I played the torch over the scene. Janeway was lying on the ground in a strange, tense, foetal position, his knees bent, his head raised and his fists clenched. Saira was standing nearby, watching him, a dark wraith in her chador. Something was protruding from Janeway's groin and as I got closer I could see it was the plastic handle of a knife. Janeway seemed paralysed. Only his mouth was moving. He was moaning in a glossolalia of pain.

I shone the torch on Saira. She only had eyes for him; I had seen rocks show more pity.

‘Saira, you okay?'

She seemed to come out of her trance because the coldness in her face was replaced by a look of dead hate. At that moment she was not beautiful. Then she looked at me and I diverted the torch light so that it wasn't in her eyes. Her face relaxed.

‘Yes, I am good. Now.'

‘What happened?'

‘I brought the knife from the house. I stabbed him. He paid for what he did.'

‘He paid for underestimating you, too.' I glanced again at Janeway quivering on the ground. ‘Where did you hide the knife?'

‘It was inside my chador. When he grabbed me I just stabbed it upwards.'

‘With all your might.'

‘Yes.'

‘You rammed that sucker home.'

‘Yes, I did.' She laughed, a perversely musical sound.

‘You must have thought it was funny when I gave you my phone and all the time you were hiding a dirty great knife in there.'

‘A little funny.'

She returned the phone to me and I put it in my pocket.

‘Janeway, what's happening?' came a voice from the other end of the car park.

‘Better come up here, Bucky,' I said. ‘Quick.'

I flipped off the safety catch of the gun and shone the torch on him as he jogged up. It was another of the thugs from the Sellicks Beach cliff.

‘Take it easy,' I said as he approached. ‘Janeway's hurt, PJ's out cold and I'm pointing a gun at you.' He stopped, his torch light jerking as he trained it on us, a knife in his right hand.

‘Drop your torch and your knife and put your hands in the air,' I said, stepping towards him. There was a clatter as torch and knife hit the deck and I marvelled for a moment at the power of the gun. ‘Walk towards the bonnet of Janeway's car.' Again he obeyed. ‘Now, lie on it with your hands out in front of you and your feet spread out.' He stretched himself across the bonnet, his feet wide apart on the ground.

‘Comfortable?'

‘Get fucked.'

I put the gun's safety catch back on, walked over to him and smashed its butt on his outstretched right hand. He screamed and recoiled. I kneed the fleshy part of his thigh, hard, and stepped back. He slid to the ground, groaning. I figured he wouldn't be able to walk without a severe limp for several days or hold a knife for even longer, at least in his right hand. He was no longer up for a fight, so I stepped in closer again and rifled his clothes for weapons.

‘Roll over.' He did so, with help from my boot. I patted him down but found nothing. ‘Okay, sit up.' I stepped away again, keeping the gun trained on him. There was a noise behind me.

‘It's just me,' said Lucy, materialising from the darkness. ‘I think PJ is starting to stir.' Her voice sounded stronger but still not normal.

‘That's alright, I don't think he'll have any fight in him and we won't be here much longer. Bucky, take a look at this.'

I diverted my torch onto the prostrate figure of Janeway, who was still moaning and mumbling to himself and didn't appear to have moved since I'd last seen him. His trousers were stained, probably by a mixture of blood and piss. Lucy gasped.

‘What's that fucken thing stickin' out of 'im?' asked Bucky.

‘It's a knife. He has a kitchen knife buried in his groin.'

‘Oh, my God,' said Lucy.

‘I guess I won't need my chainsaw now,' I said. ‘It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?' I flicked my torch back to Bucky. He was sitting on the ground, nursing his hand. ‘Want to help your mate?'

Bucky shrugged. ‘I've had enough of this shit. I need a doctor.'

‘Well, I've got an idea. Why don't you take Janey down the hill to the medical centre? Someone can put a bandaid on your hand and extract the knife from his balls. And then you can kiss them better if you like.'