Hindsight (28 page)

Another slug to his stomach caused a longer moment for him to recover.

‘That’s not what we heard …’ Moser lit a cigarette. ‘The Big G’s keeping pretty tight-lipped about it, but he only forks out big bucks for quality product, so quality she must be.’

‘The Big G?’ Ben tried to laugh. ‘Isn’t that Gregan? I take it he’s still got Greggie sweeping floors for a living?’

Moser nodded sympathetically. ‘You know how families can be. Each man has to work his way up in the world.’

‘And I take it the Big G still isn’t giving the Little G any leg-ups.’

‘If he was, I wouldn’t be talking to you. Now, spill your guts about that blind bitch, or I’ll spill ’em for ya!’

‘Sorry, what was that? My ears are still ringing from the last punch.’

Moser grinned and pushed the hot tip of his cigarette into Ben’s wound, making him scream. ‘String him up to the mast by his feet, boys. We’re gunna have some fun before the boss gets done with the GI-Jane.’

Waking up while keeping her eyes closed was something Mira had trained herself to do over the years. Otherwise, without the small luxury of a blindfold, she’d wake from a dream into a delusion, with no time for her mind to make sense of the transition.

Waking with a numb forehead wasn’t unfamiliar either; more like the first sign that she’d been sedated for close inspection of her eyes by a specialist or general practitioner. But regaining consciousness now through a fog of sedation was like waking from a dream into a nightmare. The weightlessness, numbness and strange sense of disembodiment made her feel as if she’d been reduced to a blur of energy, like a spark of light falling from a blackened sky into a bottomless abyss.

The drug, she supposed, must be something new.

With her eyes closed, she focused her senses, trying to draw herself back into her body. She felt the crispness of air-conditioning and smelled the sharp tang of antiseptic — neither lemon nor lavender, like the halls or rooms at Serenity. The cotton sheets felt different too, as if tighter across her legs and feet. She strained, trying to free herself, but realised she hadn’t yet conjured sufficient strength to open her eyes.

Concentrating, she did that next — and found herself floating a short distance above the ground in an open field. Above a runway! She barely had time to blink before a blue bi-plane swept down to land on her — through her! She screamed and instantly sensed many bodies rushing towards her.

A hand clasped her forehead, holding her down, but their skin didn’t touch hers. Her forehead was bandaged, and although her skull still felt like a block of wood, the constraint of the bandage seemed to tighten.

‘Steady there,’ crooned a deep, familiar voice. ‘You’re safe now, Mira. It’s Mitch and Zander.’

Mira reached up to confirm the size of the invisible hand on her forehead — huge like his mouth, which often had his foot in it. Dr Mitch Van Danik was the biggest man she’d ever known and his hands were rough from his regular forays caving and climbing mountains, so she recognised the length and roughness of his fingers immediately. Yet he was a physicist, not a physician — a doctor of theory, not medicine — and although he did apply his talents in that field, his presence at her bedside now only served to confuse her.

‘You suffered a brief bout of
raptis regaliter
,’ he said, and she recognised his favourite bastardisation of Latin into a profanity that meant royally screwed.

‘I need to check your eyes,’ Zander said as they swapped places, and then everything began to make sense. Dr Zhou was the only other ‘doctor’ she’d ever learned to trust; an eye specialist and scientist of a variety that she found difficult to pronounce. He was Chinese, though she never would have guessed as much from his Australian accent. Instead, she’d seen his ghost a few times and knew him to wear his hair loose and about his shoulders to hide his scarred ears.

As Zhou lifted her left eyelid to open her eye wider, she realised her glasses were gone.

‘Where …?’ she asked, groggily, ‘my shades?’

‘Hush,’ Zhou said as she regained more of her senses and became aware of the smells and sounds of other people in the room. ‘I’ve got them. Lie steady now. You’ve been out for six hours.’

Six hours?
Her mouth fell open. ‘What happened?’

‘Percussion wave,’ Van Danik said, ‘from a high-powered round that passed through your hair.’

‘Such a near-miss,’ Zhou added, ‘it burst your skin like a knife.’

Van Danik rested his large hand on her shoulder. ‘I prescribe
illegitimiti non comborrundum est
.’

‘That’s “don’t let the bastards grind you down”,’ Zhou explained. ‘We think they were after your driver, using long-distance rounds for their close-up dirty work.’

Touching the bandage at the back of her head, Mira remembered being struck by something that felt much bigger than a bullet; more like a brick. ‘Get this off, please?’ She tugged at the bandage. ‘It’s too tight.’

Zhou obliged, unwinding it gently, then a tidal wave of memories swept her back to the beach and she remembered everything. Adrenaline fired her synapses. ‘Ben?’

‘Actually, your driver was Lockman,’ Zhou said. ‘Corporal, Lieutenant, or whatever he is today. You probably know him as Adam by now, anyway.’

Hardly,
she thought as she managed to sit up. ‘Where’s
Ben
?’

‘Sorry,’ Garland said, revealing her presence in the corner. ‘We’ve lost contact.’

‘Lost contact?’ Mira shivered. ‘That’s impossible! What about the satellites? The long-range eavesdroppers?’

‘You were cooperating, so there was no need for live sat-obs which were required elsewhere. Also Lockman had the eavesdroppers, but much luckier that he was up close and personal at the time, or you wouldn’t be here now.’

‘What about Ben?’ she demanded. ‘How is
he
?’

‘We’ll know soon enough. I only cancelled the
live
sat-obs. I have a team backtracking now through the regular statewide surveillance footage.’

Fear made her heart race. ‘Are you suggesting somebody took him?’

‘It seems that way. I sent a team to the beach. They found no trace.’

Mira shrugged Zhou away from her face, then startled as another bi-plane flew through her to land. ‘So why am I at an airbase?’

Garland approached her bed but Mira could tell she stopped short of striking distance. ‘Here was the safest place.’

Mira shook her head with resolve. ‘I’ll talk to the docs, or I’ll talk to Lockman. But you’ll have to get me a hundred ks from here and free with Ben before I’ll talk to you again!’

‘Unfortunately that’s not possible, Miss Chambers, Corporal Lockman has been reassigned.’

‘Then reassign him
again
! I want to know exactly what happened from
him
.’

Garland didn’t say anything at first, but obliged by opening the door and calling him in. Then it clicked like a light switch in Mira’s head; he’d been reassigned to the docs’ security team.

‘You don’t mind?’ she asked them.

‘
Uno viso
,
omnia visa sunt
.’ Van Danik chuckled. ‘Seen one, seen them all, honey; take him. We’re not allowed off-base here anyway.’

‘Congratulations, Lieutenant,’ Zhou said as soon as Mira heard Lockman come in. ‘That must be the fastest demotion–promotion on record, and so many ranks at a time. It’s a wonder you’re not dizzy.’

Mira could easily imagine the quizzical look on Lockman’s face, but she had no time for pleasantries. ‘What happened at the beach?’

‘One moment,’ Garland interrupted. ‘Ah, doctors, would you wait for me down the hall, please? You can check her again thoroughly before she leaves.’

‘So long as we do,’ Zhou replied. ‘Stay off your feet,’ he added as Mira reached to scratch the back of her head. ‘And don’t scratch. There are three fresh stitches back there.’

Mira found them with her fingers anyway — the skin still mostly numb for the moment.

‘Here,’ Van Danik said, and handed Mira her sunshades. ‘Distract yourself, or better yet, try to get some more sleep. You can’t leave here for a while anyway.’

She doubted she’d sleep at all until she knew Ben was safe. Donning her shades didn’t help. Instead, the familiar hues of muddy violet revealed the medical recovery room as it had been in the very small hours of the morning. Back then it had been empty of all furniture and equipment that wasn’t bolted down or built into a wall already. Dark outside except for floodlights. The digital clock above the door reported the ghostly time as 1:17am. Factoring for the particular shade of slow light put the real time closer to 3pm the next day.

Mira chewed on her lip, listening to the sound of the doctors retreating — part of her wishing they’d hurry so she could press Lockman for the full story, while part of her feared being left alone with him and Garland, even though they both kept their distances for the moment.

Garland coughed, as if the cooler temperature or pressure was starting to get to her too. ‘Go ahead, Lieutenant. Tell her anything she wants to know, including anything from your debriefing.’

Lockman shifted his feet uncomfortably. ‘It was Greppia’s goons. They caught us in crossfire. By my count, three shooters offshore on a yacht, plus two at least in the scrub across the road …’

‘The first shot came from the bridge,’ Mira argued. ‘I heard it.’

‘Yeah, so did the joey, luckily.’

‘Josie?’ Mira gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, ashamed to realise she’d only just remembered her wallaby. ‘Is she …?’

‘Gone, I’m sorry.’ Lockman paused, as if reluctant to tell her any more bad news. ‘I had my attention on you when she startled off along the dune — a good thing she did, though, or else I wouldn’t have reacted in time and that first round would have struck you.’

‘Me?’ Mira screwed up her face. ‘Mitch said they were shooting at
you
.’

‘Van Danik wasn’t there,’ Garland said. ‘No doubt, he didn’t want you to worry. Nor do we, preferably, but we can hardly earn your trust without being completely straight with you. I am very sorry about Mr Kenny, by the way.’

‘Neville?’ Mira shuddered as the memory of his death unlocked and flooded back to her too. Her hands trembled and she felt ill. She’d wished him dead so many times while attempting to escape Serenity — even tried to kill him a few times herself. In the past few weeks though, she’d come to know him much better as a cranky and cynical old widower who’d developed his tough shell from working with the roughest nuts at the sanctuary, but one who really did care about his work and his clients since he had no kids of his own, and most especially her, since she’d been the only one in all his career with any chance of getting out of there.

‘If they did that to him, what hope is there for Ben?’

‘It’s
you
they want,’ Garland said. ‘It seems Gregan Greppia has made the same mistake that I did at first — assuming that your particular “talents” can be reverse engineered, regardless of whether you’re alive or not.’

‘I’m confused,’ Lockman said. ‘How can they use her talents if she’s dead?’

‘That’s classified,’ Garland replied. ‘If she chooses to confide in you, Lieutenant, that’s her business. If you work it out for yourself, that’s still between the two of you, but any breach of her confidence shall be treated as a breach in national security. Am I clear?’

‘Oh, great,’ Mira muttered. ‘If I’m a national secret, where does that leave Ben?’

‘With his own personal bodyguard,’ Lockman replied. ‘Corporal Tarin Sei. I can’t confirm for sure that she’s still with him,’ he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. ‘I can only tell you what was supposed to happen.’

‘Which was?’ Mira asked, fearing the answer.

‘Stage one: Sei was to lay down cover fire to allow me to get clear with you. Stage two: get your companion away to a safe distance and hail for an emergency evac. Their flight should have been called to collect them on the far side of the cane fields — opposite direction to the route we took.’

Mira’s skin prickled with a chill. ‘Not an air-sea rescue chopper? The Greppia family sponsors them!’

‘We’re aware of that,’ Lockman replied, remaining polite as ever. ‘When Sei failed to call, I hailed theirs for them to give them air cover, but they were already long gone. We did detect another chopper in the air at that time, and it
was
an air-sea rescue flight, but it didn’t approach anywhere near the area. It kept to the edge of radar, headed for Point Lookout.’

‘On Straddie?’

‘Afraid so. Gregan Greppia placed the call himself from one of his yachts, which provides him with an alibi.’

‘How convenient. No doubt he sent others to take care of his dirty work at the bridge. But why did he hail the rescue flight? Did he tug out too much hair while he was ordering the hit?’

‘He didn’t hail the flight for himself,’ Lockman said. ‘He hailed it for your guardian.’