Comfort Zone (28 page)

Rowan took a small step forward to interpose himself between Scabber and Leather Jacket. Jack wrenched his body hard to the left in an attempt to wriggle free. As he struggled, his line of sight shifted. Almost subconsciously, he noticed two dark figures walking carefully around the edge of the tables. It was Abdirahman and another man, presumably also Somali — and quite possibly the man who'd attacked him in the playground.

‘It's him! He's here!' he hissed at Scabber as he continued twisting and turning his body in a futile attempt to escape Leather Jacket's grip.

‘Sorry, sport, business to attend to.' Scabber suddenly pushed past Rowan, and as he did, slammed his right foot hard down on Rowan's. Whatever footwear he was wearing, it was harder than Rowan's flimsy loafers. As Rowan let out an agonised yelp and lurched backwards, Scabber thrust the heel of his right hand hard into Leather Jacket's solar plexus — a half-blow, half-push that had just enough force to wind him and loosen his hold on Jack.

Jack couldn't help admiring Scabber's finesse. He didn't want to start a serious brawl, but a couple of warning shots were entirely in order. Scabber kept walking, and Jack was able to disentangle himself and follow. Within a few seconds, they were standing eyeball to eyeball with Abdirahman and his minion. Jack glanced back to check whether they were about to be attacked from behind, and saw Rowan sitting on the chair Scabber had vacated, and signalling to Leather Jacket to wait. Scabber's crunch to his foot had probably done some damage.

He pulled out the small book from his pocket and held it up in front of Abdirahman as a sign of serious intent.

‘Here's what you're after. Where's the boy?'

Abdirahman lunged at the book, but Jack was too quick for him. Scabber was even quicker. He grabbed Abdirahman's right hand with his left, and Jack heard a cracking-crunching sound, suggesting that small bones were breaking.

Abdirahman didn't get a chance to retaliate. While Scabber's left hand was exerting maximum force on Abdirahman's fingers, Scabber's right had grabbed his assailant's genitals. He squeezed so hard that it looked like Abdirahman's eyes would explode. The two of them were now locked in a bizarre embrace, dancing a ridiculous waltz as the busy lounge bar bubbled and crackled around them. Jack checked again for Rowan and Leather Jacket, but there was no sign of them.

‘Tell me where the boy is, you get to keep your balls. Get it?' Scabber hissed in Abdirahman's ear. His offsider was paralysed with indecision, clearly unable to act on his own initiative, and probably unused to dealing with someone like Scabber.

Abdirahman's left arm waved around helplessly as he fought to overcome the intense pain. He pointed towards the wall and croaked: ‘Out there …'

‘In the lane?'

He nodded, his face still contorted with pain and anger.

Scabber spoke to Jack without taking his eyes off Abdirahman. ‘You go. I'll look after Michael Jordan here.'

Jack looked around the crowd. The other patrons seemed not to have noticed the violent altercations occurring in their midst. Warily eyeing Abdirahman and his sidekick, he took a few tentative steps towards the door. He quickened his pace and relaxed slightly. Then he felt a vicious blow right in the middle of his back. Pain, shock, and disorientation flooded through his body, and he crumpled to the floor. A pair of knees then dropped onto his prone torso, pinning him to the floor. His right arm was grabbed and wrenched up behind his back. The pain was so intense he almost vomited. He was completely helpless.

He was unable to see his assailant, but as he turned his head while trying to free himself, he caught sight of the corner of a very familiar jacket.

‘It appears Jack has other business to attend to after all,' he heard Rowan say from somewhere behind him.

It was hard for Jack to follow the events of the next minute or two. He heard a good deal of yelling, and saw Scabber and Abdirahman moving back towards the far end of the bar. Abdirahman's offsider had disappeared.

Then he heard a mounting chorus of panic-stricken yelling.

‘Fuck! It's on fire!'

‘Shit! Fire!'

‘Call the fire brigade!'

‘Cops!'

‘Watch out … shit …'

‘Let's get out of here!'

Suddenly, Leather Jacket's weight on his body shifted, and he let go of Jack's arm. Some kind of scuffle was happening above him. An abrupt bellow of pain almost ruptured his eardrum. For a moment, he was unable to move. Then his regained freedom of movement washed over him like a liberating spell. He felt another hand grab his arm, and heard Scabber hiss: ‘Let's go.'

As Jack stood up and looked around, he saw a grinning Billy the Hippy slipping away through the chaos. Leather Jacket was following him, one hand holding a torn and bleeding ear. Evidently, Billy's teeth weren't quite as rotten as they looked.

Scabber now had a tight hold of Abdirahman's windcheater behind his neck, scrunching it up so much he was close to strangling him. He was terrified now, and Scabber's attentions weren't the only reason.

A large curtain in the corner of the room was on fire, with flames licking up against the ceiling. All around them, people were scrambling to escape — shouting, stumbling, and bumping into each other.

It was plain that Abdirahman was just a small-time local thug, and no match for a pro like Scabber.

As they approached the exit, buffeted by the panic-stricken crowd, Scabber barked at Jack: ‘Give him the book.'

Jack reached into his pocket as they bustled through the narrow doorway and stumbled out into the crisp, still Carlton night. He didn't get a chance to complete the process.

As Scabber stepped down onto the footpath, Abdirahman still firmly in his grasp, there was a blur of movement to their left, followed by a loud ‘thwack' as a solid piece of timber hit Scabber on the side of the head. He buckled at the knees, staying upright momentarily as he fought the onset of unconsciousness, and then collapsed on the footpath.

Abdirahman fell forward onto his hands and knees, gasping for air, bathing in the sweet relief that his release had unleashed.

As Jack was immediately behind them, he lost his balance among the tangle of bodies filling the space he was stepping into. He noticed a dark figure to his left, still holding a piece of timber that seemed to be about the length of a cricket bat. He assumed it was Abdirahman's henchman, who'd somehow managed to slip outside before them in the confusion.

To Jack's relief, the thug's first priority was extracting Abdirahman from the melee, so Jack was able to wriggle his way to safety, crawling on his hands and knees until he had escaped the crowded area around the doorway.

Maybe Scabber's met his match
, he thought grimly.
Not quite as professional as I thought.

He didn't have time to consider Scabber's failings for long. Abdirahman and his offsiders were now scanning the milling crowd on the footpath, obviously searching for him. Whatever damage they'd managed to do to Scabber, Jack still had what they were after — Farhia's book. Rowan and his unpleasant partner had disappeared, so at least he was able to concentrate on the main challenge.

Jack crept around the corner of the Dan into the laneway that had so recently provided him with an escape route.
It mightn't be as useful this time
, he thought, as he tried to determine if any dangers lurked along the lane. It was very dark, but going back inside the Dan was hardly an option.

He stumbled over the pile of discarded building materials still scattered along the side of the hotel, and only just managed to keep his balance.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Jack was able to make out two figures further along the laneway: one tall and thin, and the other very small. A muddle of thoughts quickly cascaded through his mind. It was the boy, Yusuf, which meant that Abdirahman and company were sure to follow him up the laneway, even if they hadn't seen him yet. He might be trapped — where was Scabber when you needed him?

It didn't take long for Jack's fears to be realised. As he turned to check behind him, Abdirahman hobbled around the corner, his henchman beside him. Jack was cornered. He was in no condition to make a run for it, and his chances of rescuing Yusuf now looked grim.

Jack stepped back against the wall, instinctively seeking the protection of solid brick behind his back. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the book, and held both hands high in a gesture of surrender.

‘Okay! Here's the book! We're square …'

His two antagonists advanced cautiously down the laneway towards him, wary of possible tricks. In spite of his inglorious demise, Scabber had instilled in them a healthy respect for their opponents. Abdirahman already had enough injuries to worry about.

Then Jack saw another dark figure emerge from around the corner of the laneway.

Christ
, he thought,
now there's three of them
. He could hear Yusuf whimpering as the man holding him tightened his grip.

As the three advanced a few steps towards him, the most recent arrival, still behind Abdirahman, knelt down and picked something up off the ground.

To Jack's astonishment, he leapt upon Abdirahman, grabbing him around the throat with his left arm and pressing his right hand — apparently holding some kind of hard object — into the small of his back. Jack was still trying to process this inexplicable turn of events when this mysterious new man barked out a couple of sentences in Somali. He then switched to English.

‘Jack! You will get Yusuf and give book to me! Go! Go!'

Jack snapped out of his confusion, rushed along the lane as quickly as his aching legs on uneven cobblestones would permit, and wrestled Yusuf from the arms of his captor, who put up little resistance. Still struggling to understand what was happening, Jack picked Yusuf up and marched back towards the three men. His unknown rescuer still had a tight hold on Abdirahman. The other two men didn't move. There was no sign of Scabber.

As he closed on them, recognition dawned. It was Mohammed the taxidriver, no longer mild and friendly, as he had been on the day they'd met at the welfare centre.

As he handed him the book, Mohammed said with calm insistence: ‘Take him to mother. Now. I will hold them.'

Mohammed seemed to be pressing a small pistol into Abdirahman's back. It was too dark to tell, but Jack now understood how he had immobilised Abdirahman and his cronies.

As an afterthought, Jack gave the mobile phone to Mohammed as well, and then hurried out of the laneway. He didn't stop to question how Mohammed had become involved: Jack had Yusuf, which was all that mattered.

Jack asked Yusuf if he was able to walk, and then thought better of it. Carrying him was painful — Jack's back was killing him, and his right arm wasn't much better — but speed was essential. As he left the laneway, he looked around, but none of the kidnappers had moved. No doubt, Abdirahman was consoling himself with the thought that he had succeeded in his mission — possession of the all-important book, which was worth the pain and humiliation he had endured.

Breaking into a slow trot, Jack crossed over to the other side of Canning Street. He had to get away from the sources of trouble at the Dan — Leather Jacket, Abdirahman, and the cops — and into the cab as quickly as possible. There was no way he could go looking for Scabber. He was pretty sure Scabber had seen what had occurred and gone off somewhere to fix his headache.

The scene around the Dan was getting more chaotic by the minute. With flashing blue-and-red lights, fire-trucks, police cars diverting traffic, curious onlookers emerging from nearby homes, and disoriented patrons gawping at the spectacle, it wasn't difficult for Jack to avoid attracting unwanted attention. He had mixed feelings about the police presence, as he was still very worried about being ensnared in Rowan's schemes, but there wasn't much doubt that it would scare away Abdirahman and his mates.

He crossed over Princes Street at the point where police cars were blocking traffic. He was struggling now, as Yusuf got heavier and his injuries became more painful.

‘Got to get the little one away from all this, mate — you know what kids are like,' he mumbled to a curious cop. The officer's inquiring gaze betrayed obvious surprise at the sight of a tall, bedraggled white man carrying a small black boy with one arm in plaster. The cop nodded, and turned back to watch the firemen unwinding hoses and donning breathing apparatus as they prepared to enter the building.

Within seconds, Jack was back at the cab, and after securing Yusuf in the front passenger seat, was hurrying away from the chaos on Princes Street.

17

Resolution

The look on Farhia's face made it all worth it. The pain wracking different parts of his ageing body, the weeks of anxiety, the favours he now owed Scabber, all faded from Jack's mind as be basked in the warm glow of Farhia's gratitude.

Jack had only a vague appreciation of the intensity of the bond between a mother and her small child — especially a mother without a partner, struggling to survive in an unfamiliar, often hostile, environment. He was learning quickly, though, as he watched Farhia hold Yusuf tightly to her, muttering soothing phrases in Somali over and over.