Black Ice Part 18

'Look, Kasem,' he said, 'thanks for your offer, but I'd already made up my mind that I was getting out of this business completely. I never wanted it to get this far at all. I'm really serious about my studies. I'm thinking about going into medical research.' He lifted his eyes from the ground. 'So you see, I'm no threat at all. Byron told me that you were interested in joining us, but you can actually have it. The whole thing. As is, move in and take the lot.'

Kasem smiled and appeared to think it over. He spoke in a considered tone. 'You see, Damien, that's where we go back to the SWOT. You've forgotten all about the first category. Strength. This thing here,' he swept his hand around, past Aga.s.si and Urgill 'this is what you call a hostile takeover. Now, we can do this real friendly; we can actually be best mates. Or we can do it another way. Any way you like it, Damo, but you're now my cook. You work for me. And I'm the boss.' He gave Damien's arm another cuff. 'You'll be right, brother,' he said. 'I'm a pretty good employer. s.h.i.t, you'll get good wages, and I'll even give you study leave.'

He put his hand back on Damien's shoulder, looked him in the eye. 'I like having educated staff,' he said. 'We're going to get on fine, uni boy.'

'Well, I don't see any blood,' said Gabriel.

Jill gave him a hard glance, and turned back quickly to watch Nader, Aga.s.si and Urgill stroll from the blonde youth's house. She kept the rim of her cap angled low.

'What do you reckon they did to him?' she said.

'Whatever they wanted,' he replied. 'Those f.u.c.kers could've been playing one-handed strip poker and still have given that kid the flogging of his life without getting up from the game.'

Jill rubbed balled fists up and down her jeans. Part of her wanted to go inside and make sure the kid was okay. The other part thought it would be better to leave and get some intel before they approached him. He could prove to be a very useful link to Nader if they went in with their eyes open. The dolphinshark thing again, she thought. As a cop, it probably wasn't a bad thing to be a bit of each.

She stared at Gabriel. He raised his eyebrows.

She cracked the car door. 'Let's go, then,' she said.

They walked quickly and quietly up the street, and approached the home by crossing the lawn, hugging close to the house so as not to be seen from inside. It was difficult to know what they'd find in there. Jill saw Gabriel reflexively check the firearm in the holster under his arm. She'd done the same thing with the .45 at her ankle before leaving the car.

He stopped, and she saw him peek through the window. He flattened himself against the siding, and whispered, 'He's in there. He looks okay. But be very careful, Jill. Don't touch anything and be ready to leave fast if we need to.' He paused. 'It's a clan lab.'

She could smell it now. Meth had been cooked here. She gave Gabriel a worried look. They should definitely call for back-up. They needed a Hazmat team out here. Plenty of cops had been injured by toxic fumes or explosions in these places.

Gabriel shrugged. 'On your go,' he said.

Jill took a deep breath and moved around Gabriel to enter the house ahead of him. She tried the door. And walked in.

36.

Wednesday 10 April, night.

The rain thrummed against the balcony doors; Darling Harbour showered at the same time as Christian. Seren stared through the juicy colours of the wet twilight; with her eyes unfocused, the scene ran together like water drizzled into a paintbox.

She leaned her forehead against the gla.s.s, peering down at her reflection, at the gorgeous new underwear purchased this afternoon by her lover. Three years ago, this moment would have been perfect. Today, she knew that it was as flimsy as the French lace of her knickers. At any time, all of this could evaporate and she could be sharing a cell with semi-naked women looking to kill each other. Or worse, she might be finally beaten into submission by a man who had decided that she was his b.i.t.c.h, and that she'd better get used to it. Like her mother.

But much worse than all of that would be Marco living through it. When Marco was laughing, when he'd just woken up, when he ate cereal, Seren saw the light. It kept her going. It was light she'd seen in his eyes when they put him on her chest as a tiny baby; when he'd first tasted a strawberry; when he'd found that he could talk and stand up by himself. She'd seen the light in other children fade to a glimmer, a dull pulse, and finally, a staggering flicker, before blinking out forever. She'd seen kids with eyes as old as a digger. Seen much too much; their eyes told you that there was nothing they were going to live to see that would make all right what had already come to pa.s.s.

Every day since she'd got out, she'd searched her son's eyes for the light. It hid, crouched, waiting, marking time, trusting that she would pull them through. And she would pull them through.

Seren snapped the garter of her suspenders and straightened at the window. She sauntered towards the master bedroom, steam leaking from the ensuite. She began to dress in the clothes purchased this afternoon by Christian. The man who had taken her away from Marco for three hundred and forty-eight days.

She dressed with particular care.

Seren watched the writhing press on the dance floor. Maybe she'd stayed away from these places because she'd never learned to dance like that, she considered. She'd been partying since twelve, but never in places like this.

Without any particular pride or happiness, she knew that she looked better than any other girl in System. Every man told her that, without speaking, as soon as she'd walked in. But it was the women who confirmed it. She copped three types of looks from the other girls; the most common, hate. The message? Come near my man tonight and I'll tear your eyes from your head. Usually, these women had had a few; they'd have wanted to if they'd known where Seren had spent the last year. The next most common stare was neutral. A kind of I-don't-even-notice-you-there Teflon glance that slid across her body as though she were nothing. She knew that the studied nonchalance was well-rehea.r.s.ed, and it had probably always stabbed deeply at the other girls in high school. The third look was from the desperate, or particularly enterprising. They knew they had been beaten, and figured that maybe if they could hook their claws into her coattails they could soar up with her into the heavens they thought she occupied.

As she watched the beautiful people of Sydney throb to the beat of the DJ du jour, the irony of her situation shuddered to life with an image: Tready masturbating into her bra in the elevator of her unit block. The picture quickly evaporated in the lights.

Where the h.e.l.l had Christian gone? She manoeuvred through the crush to find him holding court in a dim corner booth. The low table in front of the group was covered in gla.s.ses holding multicoloured drinks. All of the seats were taken. Two men made out on one side of the nook. Seren had seen the couple here before with Christian. Two near-naked girls sitting next to Christian spotted her crossing the floor towards them, and with their eyes clearly told her to p.i.s.s off. Instead, when she reached them, she wriggled between them and the table to plonk herself onto Christian's lap. The hem of her teensy black dress rose up and she left it there, suspenders and long legs on show.

'G.o.d! Make yourself comfortable!' growled one of the girls.

'How rude!' muttered the other.

Christian laughed and kissed her. His eyes glittered. 'You want to dance?' he asked.

'No, I want to party. I'll have whatever you're having,' she told him.

He raised his hand and within moments, a uniformed boy materialised.

'We'll have a bottle of tequila,' he said. 'Some lemon, salt, shot gla.s.ses. And can you clear some of this s.h.i.t away?' He gestured to the table.

With her arm hooked around Christian's neck, Seren leaned backwards, and bent her head down to the face of the redhead next to them. She whispered, 'I think he means you, sweetie.' She gave the woman her back again and snuggled into Christian. 'What else have you got for me, baby?'

He locked eyes with her and reached into his jacket pocket. The left pocket, Seren, she mentally noted.

'Open wide,' he said, something small between his fingers.

Oh f.u.c.k. She had just wanted to know what he was carrying tonight. She didn't want to take it! She couldn't take it she had a urine test at P&P after work tomorrow. Christian's eyes had not left hers.

'Not a whole one, darling,' she said. 'You know I'm not used to it.' She prised her fingers between his thumb and forefinger and removed the little white tablet. 'Ooh, lovely,' she said, checking out the little tiara figure stamped on the front. Her heart thudded.

Still curled into Christian's body, she snapped the tablet between her fingers, and made a show of dropping half into the little clutch purse at her feet; instead, she deliberately missed the purse and ground the pill fragment to dust under her stiletto. She swivelled on his lap to find him staring at her.

'Here. You can take it with my drink,' he said.

f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. Seren gave Christian a luscious smile and licked her finger, leaving the half tablet there on the tip of her tongue. She turned and faced the others at the table. The redhead had been sipping a luminous lime concoction from a tall gla.s.s and now Seren picked the drink. She took a deep sip. 'Mmm, yummy.' she said.

'Thank you!' the redhead said, s.n.a.t.c.hing her gla.s.s back.

Seren beamed at her. ''Scuse me again, everyone, for just a mo. Be right back.' Once again she traversed the dance floor; this time blood rushing in her ears. She found the ladies and pushed past the gaggle of girls at the sink, all caking on more make-up. She slammed the cubicle door and bent face first over the toilet, thrusting her fingers down her throat. Please G.o.d let it come out. She heaved.

When she saw the tiny white pill swimming in a pool of fluoro green in the bowl, Seren began to cry. She turned and sat on the toilet, holding her hand in front of her, her fingers dripping in vomit and saliva.

'You know you can get help for that, honey.' The voice came from the next cubicle. 'You should see a counsellor or something. Bulimia is a serious illness.'

Seren wiped her hand on some paper and waited for the toilet next door to flush. She waited some more. Finally, she rose and made her way to the sink to splash her face and rinse out her mouth. She ignored the two women pretending not to stare and faced herself in the mirror.

Go and get that f.u.c.ker, she told herself.

Back at the table, the redhead had gotten too close to Christian again. Seren plopped down between them.

'I'd like five please,' the girl said to Christian, glowering. 'To go.' She stood to leave, tugging at her friend's arm, encouraging her to also rise.

Seren almost snorted in frustration. She was too close to record this drug deal safely. She reached under her feet for her bag while Christian stood and moved to say goodbye to his friends, to give them their parting gifts. She turned the camera on, but missed the whole transaction.

'Actually,' she said, 'I do feel like dancing now, Christian.' Seren rose from the chair and smoothed her dress. She stood a foot taller than Redhead, who quickly made her exit.

She dragged Christian to the dance floor. Within moments, a crowd of people surrounded them. Seren moved closer to her man.

Weary, but satisfied, Seren stepped out of the cab and walked quickly towards her unit block. She'd not yet heard whether Tready was out of hospital, and although she was dubious that he'd be in the mood to tangle again so soon, she didn't want to be out here any longer than she had to be. Especially tonight: Christian had given her enough money to cover her rent and she had to get it inside; she couldn't afford to lose it again.

Leaving the lift on Angel's floor, she smiled. A couple more nights like this one, and she should have enough evidence to convince Christian that he had to pay up, and then she and Marco could get out of here forever. She'd already thought about asking Angel to move with them. She'd easily have enough money to cover rent for a place for her too.

Thank goodness for Angel, she thought, making her way along the balcony that led to her door. It had turned out to be a lot more convenient to have Marco fall asleep in Angel's unit, and then bundle him back to his own bed when she arrived home. It was awful spending all this time away from him when she'd ached for so long to be near him. Despite her impatience to finalise her plans to blackmail Christian, she determined to stay home tomorrow night and spend time with Marco.

A small frown appeared as she made her way along the balcony. The light was on in Angel's unit. It's after one, she thought. I hope Marco hasn't kept Angel up this late. She tapped quietly at the door. When Angel opened it, Seren could see that she'd been crying.

'Angel, what's wrong?' Seren moved around her, into the small unit. Marco wasn't curled up on the lounge. 'Where's Marco?'

Angel hid her face in her hands. 'I tried to stop them, Seren,' she said.

'Who? What are you talking about? Marco!' Seren moved through the unit. 'Oh my G.o.d, Angel! Where's Marco?'

'DoCS took him, Seren.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Your P&P officer, Maria Thomasetti. She came here with this b.i.t.c.h from DoCS. Someone must've told them Marco was down here with me.'

'What's wrong with him being here? There's nothing wrong with that!' Seren stared around the room wildly, and then turned to face Angel. 'Why did they take him?'

'Thomasetti said that you were behind in your rent and that was a breach of your parole. She said they might lock you up tomorrow.' She glanced at her watch. 'Well, today. They said that Marco would stay with them until they knew whether you had to go back inside. I'm so sorry, Seren. I couldn't stop them.'

Seren put her face in her hands and screamed.

37.

Thursday 11 April, 2 pm.

Damien moaned on the toilet. He hadn't moved from the bathroom since the cops had left his house. He hadn't been joking when he'd told Aga.s.si that stress sent him straight to the toilet. He'd had a lot of time to think in here, and he'd come up with a few possible explanations as to why this was happening to him.

The main one had to do with the curses.

Probably the main reason he hadn't been able to get into the whole Jehovah's Witness thing, he considered now, was his mum's double standards. When the G.o.d Squad were around, she was all sweetness and light, but if no one was there to see her, she would give you a flogging with anything that came to hand. He thought he had been more frightened of her words, though. Since he'd been old enough to understand, and probably before, she'd been placing curses upon him, d.a.m.ning him to the devil to burn for anything naughty he'd done. That's what's going on, he realised now. One of those curses. That had to be it.

He tried to clear his head and think more rationally; to sum up his situation. I'm a drug manufacturer working for a gangster. Great. Even better, I am now also supposed to spy on this gangster and report to a nark and the Feds. If I f.u.c.k around with Kasem Nader, he'll kill me. If I don't do what the cops ask they'll lock me up. And if I don't pa.s.s my half-yearlies, I won't get into Honours next year. And I've got a cla.s.s presentation due next week.

Damien's stomach insisted that he evacuate his bowels. Problem was, that process had finished twenty minutes ago, and there was nothing left with which to oblige.

He bent double on the bowl, moaning in agony.

'Well, that went well,' said Gabriel. 'Our own little double agent. Fun.'

'You reckon he's going to be okay?' asked Jill.

They sat in Gabriel's car beside the park near Merrylands McDonald's. Her Magna waited in the spot next to them. Jill had another half hour before she had to be back to pick up Ingrid and Mrs Dang.

'Well, that depends on what you mean by okay,' he said. 'I think you're going to get enough on Nader to put him away for a long time, so from that perspective, Damien will be great. The thing about doubling someone is that the more you make them do, the deeper in they get, and then you can make them do even more again.' Gabriel stretched his neck from side to side and turned to face her. 'But the suicide rate's above average.'

Jill gave him a hard look.

'I'm kidding,' he said. 'We'll look after him.'

'I'm thinking that I'll arrange to meet him for debriefs at his uni,' she said. 'I don't want Nader to see me with Damien. I guess there would be nothing really wrong with Damien knowing someone like me as Krystal Peters but we don't need to complicate this any further.'

'Agreed.'

Jill took her time with her next comments. She realised that she was growing used to having Gabriel to rely upon again and she really wanted him involved in this case. More than that, she wanted to spend time with him generally, and she had spent a good deal of last night wondering why. Was she just lonely for close contact after three months of false and potentially treacherous relationships?

'I wanted to thank you for helping me out with this, Gabe,' she said.

'You already did.'

'Yeah, I know. It's just that you've been so great in helping me set all this up. I just wish there was some way we could formalise it, so we could work this Nader thing together.'

'Well, I was meaning to say something about that.'

She did a double take. Waited.

'I was hoping you wouldn't mind,' he said. 'When I got home yesterday, I called Last and asked him to get me written into it.'

'What'd he say?'

'He's hooking it up.'

Jill did a mental fist pump. 'So how will that work?' she asked.

'I'm not going to go undercover with you,' he said. 'I'd get made as a cop. It takes me a while to get into that zone; your people would be able to tell that I'm not one of you guys. We'll just keep it as it is. We'll meet, do this kind of thing. I'll stay in the loop with you and Damien.'

'That's great,' she said, smiling.

'There should be a Fed connection in here. It could be that Nader's just a blow-a.r.s.e and he's spinning s.h.i.t to Damien about having a big operation. But it could be real and maybe he's linked in with others that we can round up with him. The Pacific islands thing also needs to be followed up. Why's he been visiting? Could be that he likes a good suntan, or little brown boys; but on the other hand it could be that he's importing precursor chemicals.'