Black Ice Part 20

'This will be your second day away from work. You cannot afford this. I am your supervisor. I can be your good friend. You don't want there to be a mark on your record.'

'Thanks, Zeko,' she said, meeting his eye. 'But I need to go and get him myself. You'll have to do whatever you think is right about my record.'

He moved around the desk. With his step forward, she took one back.

'I got you a good job here in D Squad, didn't I?' he said. 'I think you owe me a little bit more. I think you should try harder to be friends with me.'

'What do you want?'

'You don't have to be so mean to me. This would be a start.'

'And . . .'

'And I would like to maybe meet with you in here each day, for a progress meeting. I think we should keep up to date with your training, make sure you are settling in with me.'

'What would we do in here?' she said.

'You will like what we do in here, Seren. Very much. All the girls do. They call me the rooster, the c.o.c.k. I'm going to be reviewing your performance just as I have for every girl here on my team. To work here on my floor all girls must give satisfactory performance to the c.o.c.k.' He grabbed at his crotch. 'Come a little closer, Seren. I'll show you why you will enjoy our meetings.'

'I can't, Zeko. I have to go. We'll have to talk about this later.'

Zeko angled his head to the side, placed his hands on his hips. 'Yes, Seren,' he said. 'We will have to talk about this later. With that, I agree with you. We can talk about this while you're sucking my b.a.l.l.s. Now go and get your stupid b.l.o.o.d.y brat.'

41.

Friday 12 April, 11 am.

Bluesy kind of weather again, lamented Jill, peering through the tiny bathroom window in her unit. Of course, any kind of weather was going to be depressing viewed from here. The cheerless courtyard, surrounded by unit blocks like this one, rarely captured any sunlight; it was as though even the sun wouldn't hang around here if it didn't have to. A queasy-looking tree drooped in a caged garden bed in the middle of the asphalt. Fed on cigarette b.u.t.ts, p.i.s.s from the drunks and screams in the night, the tree looked to have given up, waiting to die. Jill knew that many of the residents who woke to see it each morning felt the same way.

Autumn blasted frost into Jill's soul at the best of times. Even the glow of a brilliant Maroubra autumn felt poignant, painful, like happy times were on the way out, leaving for good. The problem was that autumn dragged winter along after it. Winter: the anniversary season of being kidnapped as a twelve-year-old. The cold always snapped her memories of being raped and tortured into sharp focus.

Flicking the thoughts away, she decided she'd bling it up today; attempt to simulate cheer where there was none. A pink velour tracksuit and push-up bra should do it. She grinned as she pulled on the pants: spray-on, sitting just below her navel, with a little diamante applique of a star stuck on the hip. You are a star, Krystal Peters, she told herself, smudging extra kohl around her lashes and maxing out the mascara. It surprised her to be kind of having fun with this. She had never dressed this way in her life, had always been careful to play down her femininity, feeling frightened or aggressive when drawing male attention.

And she rarely wore her blonde locks down from a tight ponytail. Now she bent her head forward and backcombed her hair, teasing it at the crown to give it height. She flicked it back in front of the mirror. Whoops she smoothed it down a tad. A little less p.o.r.n queen. She smirked at herself, kind of shocked by the girl who stared back at her. She looked as though she could be in a magazine shoot. She looked like her sister. Like Ca.s.sie.

Jill shrugged into her jacket, her smile suddenly gone. It was time to get to work.

She decided that she'd try to get some more dirt on Aga.s.si, Urgill and Nader if she could. Damien could have this first day off. She would let him adjust to his new life a little and then have him report in tomorrow.

She knocked on Ingrid's door, and waited a while. Nothing. Could be too early for her. Before two was pretty much too early for Ingrid.

Jill headed down to the ground, but left the car where it was for the first time since Last had delivered it to her. She'd done pretty well the last few months on foot patrol. You learned a lot when no one was going anywhere in a hurry.

She stopped in at McDonald's and bought a coffee. There was no one of interest in there so she headed over to Orbit.

'Krystal!' Jelly put his head down and ran straight for her. Oh f.u.c.k. Ooof.

'Jelly,' she said, winded. 'We've gotta work on your greetings.'

'I told Kasem about the honeycomb. He wants some,' said Jelly.

Kasem? Jill glanced around Jelly's ma.s.sive shoulder and saw Nader headed in their direction.

'Hey there, little hoodlum,' said Nader, dropping his arm around Jelly's shoulder and facing Jill. Nader and Jelly stood at the same height, with similar shoulder spans, but the similarities ended there. Jelly's body was refrigerator-shaped all over, while Nader appeared to have spent more than a bit of time in the gym.

'Hi, yourself,' she said.

'I heard you're a good cook,' he said.

I heard you just got a new one, Jill thought. 'It's only honeycomb,' she told him. 'With chocolate poured all over it. Lollies. We are talking about Jelly, here.'

He laughed. 'True. You could pour chocolate over snails and Jelly would call you a good cook.'

'But I am a good cook,' she said.

He stepped a little closer. 'Oh, I bet you are, Krystal. a.r.s.e-kicker by day; chef by night. I, for one, want to know what other talents you have.'

'We'd be here all night.'

'And who wants to be here all night?' he said. 'I want to get some lunch. Hungry?'

'I'm hungry,' said Jelly.

'I'm shocked,' said Nader.

Jill and Jelly laughed.

'Can I take you two to lunch?' asked Nader.

Jill followed Nader and Jelly out to the car park. Jelly stopped in front of a shiny new-looking sedan, hopping from foot to foot. Jill whistled. Scotty would kill someone to have this car. Well, not literally; unlike, perhaps, the current driver.

So Nader has a Porsche and an HSV, she thought. Both were current models. Business must be booming. Still, he didn't seem to be working too hard today. She climbed into the leather c.o.c.kpit and strapped herself in for the ride. These cars could give the chasers a run; cops were told to call in the chopper when they were pursuing a vehicle like this.

'We'll go for a ride,' said Kasem. 'Got something to pick up in Bondi. Steak all right with you guys?'

'STEAK!' roared Jelly from the backseat.

With the day steel-grey and the table set way back in the restaurant, Jill and Jelly sat in shadows. Despite this, the atmosphere was relatively cheerful. The busy tables were draped with chequered red cloths, crowded with condiment bottles of every description, and a slim vase in front of Jill's place setting held a single red orchid.

'I wonder where he's gone,' said Jill.

'Don't worry, Krystal,' said Jelly. 'Kasem always does this. He's never gone long. And he said we can order whatever we want.'

That turned out to be rather a lot. Nader appeared through the dimness of the restaurant as Jelly was still speaking to the waitress. Kasem added a porterhouse steak to their list, which included steaks for Jill and Jelly, b.u.t.tered corn on the cob, mashed potato, fresh bread rolls and beer-battered steak fries, tomato bruschetta, rocket and roast pumpkin salad (Jill had to get something green in there), and a shared plate of olives and dips.

'Beer or wine?' Kasem watched Jill.

'c.o.ke,' said Jelly.

'Of course,' said Kasem. 'Krystal?'

'Um, red wine?' she said.

Kasem scanned to the bottom of the wine list, held it up to the waitress, and pointed to the priciest red; he bundled up the menus and handed them up to her. Jill wondered whether Nader had had the wine before, or whether he'd just chosen on price. For some reason, she thought the answer would say a lot about him.

Jill took another look around the room and then faced her dining companions again. She smiled, but her senses were pinpoint-focused. She couldn't afford to relax for a minute. She'd just set up an operation to take this man down, and here they were having lunch. More than ever she had to ensure she kept her worlds apart. Still, this was a great opportunity. She'd gather anything she could when she had this kind of access to a subject. The way he spoke on the phone, people he might interact with, changes in emotion around particular topics, the way he handled frustrations. Some of these behaviours could give her an indication of how high on the totem he might be in a criminal enterprise, while others could be used later in interrogation, as leverage points, should it come to that.

This train of thought reminded her of Gabriel. An expert on body language and kinesic interviewing, she'd learned a lot from him that had contributed to her success over the past few months. She was realising more than ever that although you might not be able to pick the truth from someone's words, you could tell from their actions if they were lying.

A waiter approached with their drinks and the bread and olives.

'Why are you smiling, Krystal?' asked Jelly, smiling too.

'I'm happy to be here,' said Jill.

'I'm happy we're all here,' said Kasem. 'A toast.' He maintained eye contact with Jill as they clinked gla.s.ses. 'To new friends.'

'To new friends,' she said, and took a deep sip.

'Do me! Do me!' said Jelly, holding up his gla.s.s.

Kasem clinked gla.s.ses with Jelly and toasted in a singsong voice: Here's to you,

Here's to me,

And should we ever disagree,

f.u.c.k you,

Here's to me.

Jelly collapsed with laughter. 'Again!' he said.

42.

Friday 12 April, 11.50 am.

'So what happened, Marco?' Seren asked.

Suspended. At ten years old, for G.o.dsakes. Even younger than she'd been the first time. A storm cloud darkened his face, his fists were clenched and his arms hung rigid at his sides.

Seren felt the pull again. Fate. Just give up, it whispered to her. You know this is how it works. Did you seriously think your child could ever amount to anything? You just got out of prison! You're a loser born that way. Stop struggling; just relax, let go and let the current carry you down to where you're supposed to be.

'Why should I tell you anything?' said Marco. 'You don't care about me anyway.'

See! There! Take that!

'Marco, I love you more than anything, more than anyone.'

'Except Christian.'

'Marco, I don't love Christian.'

'Why do you always lie to me? I know that's where you go. Who else would give you all that money? Pay for taxis? Buy you clothes? That's what he did before. And you'd rather be with him than me.'

'Okay,' she said. 'All right.' When did he grow up? How could he know these things? 'You're right. I have been seeing Christian, but I don't love him.'

You see, he was right. You are a s.l.u.t.

'I'm doing some work for him,' she said. 'It's only for a little while. That is the truth, I promise you.'

'Is the work against the law?' he said.

Ha ha! Tell the truth? Tell a lie? Either way, I win, laughed Fate in her head.

'Baby, you shouldn't have to worry about things like that.'

'No, I shouldn't,' he said. 'But I do.' The storm build-up broke, and Marco's face crumpled. He pushed his fists into his eyes, but they couldn't hold the tears. 'I hate it in DoCS!' he cried. 'I hate it! You're going to go to gaol again. You're going to leave me.'

Seren dropped to her knees. She could physically feel his suffering. She remembered, now, how it felt when he was pulled from her arms when she was led down to the cells; how she had left him standing, helpless, at the mercy of strangers. Powerless to do anything other than what he was told. Eight, when she went to gaol. He was eight years old; the top of his head did not even reach their waists. And when he cried at night, alone, for her, she didn't come. And when he wondered what would happen to him, what would happen to her, if they would ever see each other again, she couldn't console him. No one rea.s.sured him; no one could. That was her job. Marco had been fed, housed and clothed while she had been locked up. She did thank the State for that. But Marco had been completely alone; she felt it more than ever, right now.

She wrapped her arms around her son. They stayed there, on the floor, for a long time.

Seren shut her thoughts to Fate. She concentrated on Marco.