Eye for an Eye (19 page)

‘Crikey, it’s a
whole lot different being in the middle of all this! TV doesn’t
even begin to convey the experience. I thought the bus ride from
the airport was mad, but this is insane!’ She clung onto the door
handle with white knuckles. Mike grinned.

‘You should try
it on a wet winter night in peak hour traffic. That’s when it gets
really interesting, with the rain, water from other vehicles mixed
with oil on your windshield, the threat of ice if it freezes - oh
that can be a lot of fun.’

She looked
thoughtful.

‘I used to
think that city people were soft and unadventurous, living
sheltered lives in their fancy apartments. I guess I was wrong.
This looks pretty challenging to me – oh! Jesus that was close!’ A
big truck and trailer had just flashed past her window with a roar,
rocking the van with its backdraft. Mike laughed.

‘What’s the
matter, country girl? Not going to chicken out on me are you?’

‘Hah! Never! Do
your worst, city boy, I can take it.’

She braced
herself against the side of the van and calmed her breathing. She
looked over at Mike, noting that his jaw was clenched quite tightly
with concentration, and his eyes were flicking from the road ahead
to the rest of his surroundings. He glanced at her and smiled.

‘Enjoying your
nice relaxing day in the countryside?’

She let out a
sardonic bark of laughter. ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve seen some.
This ain’t it yet.’

A little while
later they passed a large industrial plant off towards the lake,
with fat round towers partly hidden behind low grassy mounds.

‘What’s that
factory over there?’ asked Robyn.

‘That? That’s a
nuclear power plant.’

‘What!’ She
looked at him, aghast. ‘Seriously? It’s not, is it? You’re having
me on.’

He shook his
head, puzzled. ‘No, it’s a power plant all right.’

‘They put a
nuclear power plant so close to a major city? How could they even
think of doing that?’ She reached down and closed off the van’s air
vents, then looked round to make sure all the windows were
closed.

‘What are you
doing?’ asked Mike.

‘I’m shutting
out the air in case there’s windborne pollution. Those places are
dangerous!’ Robyn’s voice was filled with horrified
indignation.

‘I take it they
don’t have nuclear plants where you come from?’ said Mike
drily.

‘Damn right! No
radioactive power plants, no nuclear-powered ships - New Zealand is
a nuclear-free zone and proud of it, no matter how much the
Americans want to bully us.’

‘Shame about
the French testing right in your backyard an few years back
then.’

‘Oh God, don’t
get me started on that, I’ll bend your ear right off.’

At last she
realised that he was teasing her and smiled at him ruefully.

‘Sorry. It’s a
subject I feel rather strongly about, OK? Don’t give me such a hard
time! When you date a member of the Peace movement for five years,
some of the attitudes rub off on you. Besides, it’s one of the few
things our country has done that got noticed by the rest of the
world, outside of Lord of the Rings.’

They drove for
another half hour along the 401 before turning off onto a smaller
highway that headed north away from Lake Ontario. The countryside
became much more attractive, and Robyn gazed around with
delight.

‘Hey, this is
really pretty! I love the rolling hills and all the trees, and
those farms with the cute red barns are adorable. I guess they
winter their stock indoors, do they, as it gets so cold here?’

He nodded.
‘Mostly indoors, at least for the cows. Some horses can stay out in
the snow, others are kept inside. It depends how suited they are to
the tough conditions. Twenty-four below zero can be a bit too cold
for some animals.’

Robyn shook her
head. ‘It’s just impossible to imagine what winter here must be
like on a glorious summer day like this. The whole place must
change so much.’

‘Yes,’ he said,
a touch wistfully. ‘That’s what I miss most when I’m living in the
city. Out here you see all the signs of the seasons - changing
plants and trees, the way birds and animals behave – but in the
city it just gets really cold, and dark much earlier at night. When
it snows in town, sure, it’s pretty for about an hour then it all
gets churned to brown slush. Not very attractive.’

Robyn was
silent for a moment, thinking. ‘Couldn’t you find a job that would
let you live out here?’ she asked. ‘You sound as if you’d be much
happier out of the city.’

‘Not likely,
I’m afraid. Most rural areas are generally quite depressed.
Factories have been closing down, industries have moved to where
their costs are lower, and there’s not much cash around. No, for
what I’m doing, the city is the place to be.’

‘I can’t
imagine living somewhere I didn’t like just for the work.’ She
shuddered at the thought. ‘Doesn’t it make your soul feel
trapped?’

He shrugged. ‘I
hadn’t thought about it. As long as I can pay the rent and afford
to eat, I can live just about anywhere.’

Robyn pulled a
face at the thought. ‘I guess if you went home now and again to
recharge your batteries it might be survivable,’ she said
grudgingly.

‘I cope, OK?
Quit picking on me.’

‘Sorry mate, I
didn’t mean to give you a hard time, I’m just trying to understand
a different life-style, that’s all.’

They declared a
truce and drove on, with Robyn exclaiming in delight at some of the
place names they saw on signposts.

‘Lake Scugog?
Bobcaygeon? Where do they get these neat names?’

‘Not sure.
Indian words, probably, or maybe a corruption of old French.’

‘Is this the
Kawartha Lakes area? Colwyn said he uses a cottage somewhere round
here.’

‘Yeah, I’ll bet
he does. Most Toronto businessmen want the status symbol of a
summer bolthole in the country to escape to now and again.’

‘Oh.’ She saw
another sign. ‘What do the bait stores sell?’

‘Bait for
fishing, of course.’ He looked sideways at her and she rolled her
eyes.

‘What I meant
was, what do people use for bait round here?’

‘Oh, frogs, dew
worms, that kind of thing.’

‘What are doo
worms?’

‘Big worms that
come out at night when the dew falls - you sneak up with a torch
and catch them if you’re quick enough. If you’re not, you buy ‘em
at the bait shop.’

She looked at
him doubtfully but he appeared to be quite serious.

‘And what kind
of fish do you catch?’

‘If you’re
lucky, pike or muskies. Usually bass or sunfish. It’s more for
entertainment than for eating.’

‘Are there any
regulations about the tackle you use?’

‘Why, are you
planning on going fishing?’

‘I might,’ she
said defensively. ‘I like fishing. At least at home we can eat what
we catch. There’s nothing like a good feed of blue cod straight
from the sea, cooked over a fire on the beach with a squeeze of
lemon and a sprinkle of salt. We’ve got great fisheries, and there
are really strict rules for the sizes you can take so that places
aren’t fished out.’

‘We’ve got
rules too - and if you get caught breaking them you lose all your
tackle and pay a fine.’

‘Oh we do way
better than that. If you’re caught with undersized fish or
shellfish you lose anything you used for the trip - tackle, boat,
car - all of it is seized by the government.’

‘Pretty
harsh.’

‘It works
though. Areas that were almost fished out a few years ago are well
stocked now.’

He nodded.
‘That’s good. OK, here’s our turn-off. Not far to go from
here.’

He swung off
the main highway at a small town called Marmora, and headed
northwest through more farmland. Now and again they crossed over
small rivers, making Robyn’s fingers itch to get out her camera to
record the graceful trees and sparkling waters. Occasionally they
passed lakes half hidden in the woods, with spectacular rocky
outcrops reflected in them.

The road wound
on.

‘Are we there
yet?’ chanted Robyn.

‘Nearly. About
five more minutes.’

He turned onto
a side road which was almost closed over with trees and had a fine
patch of grass along the middle between the tyre tracks. The light
was a cool green, and when Robyn opened her window the insistent
sound of insects penetrated above the noise of the van’s engine.
They bumped along slowly on the uneven surface, finally pulling
over at a green-tinged wooden gate.

Robyn sprang
out to open it at Mike’s request, pulling it across a layer of rich
brown leaf mould until he had room to drive through. The track
curved between the trees, and as they followed it Robyn saw a house
emerge from the leafy background, so well camouflaged that it was
only visible from a few yards away. Weathered shingled walls and
roof matched the dappled shade patterns from the trees, and it
wasn’t until a figure in a red plaid shirt stood up from a wicker
chair on the veranda that she realised what she was looking at.

Mike sprang up
the steps and greeted the man warmly.

‘Robyn, come
and meet Henri Leveque, the man who taught me all I know about the
woods. Henri, this is Robyn Taylor, a friend from New Zealand.’

She found
herself the subject of a brief but intense scrutiny from eyes so
dark brown they were almost black. The laugh lines at their edges
saved them from being intimidating, although Robyn felt as if they
had seen more than her surface appearance. She straightened her
shoulders and shook Henri’s heavy calloused hand firmly.

‘Good to meet
you, Henri. Mike tells me you’re a whiz at making maple syrup.’

‘Among other
things,’ Mike cut in hurriedly. ‘I didn’t tell you Robyn, but Henri
is a highly respected sculptor. His wood carvings are in galleries
and museums all round the world.’

‘Oh? Are there
any here I could see, Henri? I love artwork.’

‘If you are
really interested, young lady, and not just being polite, I will
show you.’ Henri paused for her agreement, and ushered her
inside.

Once her eyes
adjusted from the bright sun outside, she saw a room that instantly
made her feel at home. The walls were wooden, lined with shelves
and alcoves where various carvings were featured. Some pieces were
placed near windows, where the play of light showed their textures
and angles to best effect. One piece in particular caught her eye,
and she made a bee-line for it. It was a torso, semi-abstract, but
with an inner strength that communicated instantly with the
viewer.

‘Wow, I’d love
to photograph this piece. It would be a real challenge to make it
come to life on a flat page.’

‘And how would
you do that?’

She looked up
at him to assess whether he was serious. ‘If you are really
interested and not just being polite, I’ll tell you. I’d shoot it
in black and white against a black velvet backdrop, so there was
nothing to distract the eye. I’d light it with a torch during a
long slow exposure, moving the light around so that every detail
was lit, but aiming longer from each side to create some
shadows.’

His eyebrows
rose.‘You know your subject, young lady. I’d like to see your work.
Do you have your equipment with you?’

She shook her
head regretfully.‘Not for this sort of thing. I’ve got the Nikon,
but no decent lighting gear. But we could come back another time,
if Mike didn’t mind?’

‘No, of course
Michael won’t mind. And he’ll go in the kitchen now and make us all
a cup of coffee, won’t he?’

Henri looked at
Mike enquiringly, but the order was direct. Mike obeyed with a
smile.

Henri guided
Robyn to a comfortable sofa and sat close enough to speak quietly.
‘So, Robyn, what brings you here all the way from New Zealand?’

Under his
intense scrutiny, Robyn found herself discarding the glib answer
she had ready, and answered him from the heart. ‘I’m here to punish
a man who stole from my family.’

‘He stole
money? Possessions?’

‘Money, and he
was indirectly responsible for my father’s death.’

‘That is a
serious crime. Could the forces of law not punish him?’

‘They said they
couldn’t. This guy’s clever and didn’t leave any evidence.’

‘And how do you
intend to punish him?’

Henri kept his
eyes on her face. She felt herself blush.

‘Ah, well - I
have to admit that I came here all fired up ready to fight with
him, to hurt him and pay him back for the damage he did to us, but
now things are a bit different.’

‘Yes?’ His eyes
were kindly now, reassuring and expectant.

‘Now I’m
helping Mike to get the evidence he needs so that the man can be
arrested here and tried for his crimes. As long as he doesn’t enjoy
his life spending what he stole from us, I’ll be happy.’

Mike carried a
tray of mugs into the room.

‘Michael, you
are pursuing this wicked character within the law, yes?’

‘Who, Colwyn?
Yes, all legal and above board.’

Robyn felt a
twinge of guilt. The deceit they were using on Colwyn to achieve
their goal might be within the law, but she doubted Henri would
approve, and for some reason, his opinion mattered to her.

‘Is it ever
justified to use bad means to achieve good ends, Henri?’

‘Only your
heart can weigh the balance of both sides of the question to know
whether it is just or not. If your heart has doubt about the means
you use, it will not be at peace with the result.’

‘What’s
worrying you, Robyn?’ Mike handed her a cup of coffee.

‘Ah, nothing
serious. It’s just that I hate having to pretend to be something
I’m not. We’re lying to Colwyn, so doesn’t that make us as bad as
he is? You know what I mean?’

‘Yes, I hear
what you’re saying. You’re an up-front sort of person and you’d
rather deal with him in an up-front way, right?’