Leopard Dreaming (9 page)

Mira wondered how in the wide wild world she’d ever ditch Lockman without arousing his suspicions. Much better to have him in sight and controllable than not, she thought, but then it made no sense why the colonel didn’t just ambush her now and be done with it. She saw his yester-phantom crouch over the body and place the stuffed toy in the spreading pond of blood, then rise and walk away with a final wink to her. A wink she’d missed the first time from the other angle.

Lockman’s fingers began to talk under hers, typing only
what gives?
before she pulled her hands away.

‘Dead end.’ She spun on her heel and made a dash for the car park. ‘I’ve lost him. He swam off alone, so there’s nothing further to discuss here.’
Please get to the truck and do your little ritual.

‘Like I couldn’t already guess we’d reached an impasse?’ He never needed reminding to check for bugs of the electronic variety.

Mentioning it only made it clear that she needed a few minutes alone with him.

G
eneral Garland paced casually around the belly of her airborne command centre, headed south to Canberra for her next private briefing with the Prime Minister.

Currently loaded in the cargo hold of a C5 Galaxy, her mobile command unit consisted of two specialised shipping containers, humming with activity. Six cubicles for staff with wall monitors ensured efficient coordination of satellite surveillance and field units on domestic soil, and internationally, in conjunction with other allied forces.

In one hand she held an army-green traveller’s mug which prevented any spills from her protein shake. In the other a weekly report on Mira Chambers, including a map with red tracings of every step she’d taken in the last two days since Lockman had delivered her latest model of electronic shades, with improvements. Same weight as the last set, despite the addition of a hidden tracking device.

Not even Lockman would notice that particular upgrade, unless he took apart the armatures and knew exactly what to look for, but he’d never do that. Mira needed her “hues” too much. Not only to avoid
stumbling over obstacles by using the yester-world as a near facsimile, but also to avoid the pain of processing undesirable light frequencies. She never took them off, not even to shower or sleep.

Glancing further down the report, Garland noticed that Mira hadn’t accessed any of the funds available to her alias. Fifty-two million, just sitting there. She frowned to think of it; an inheritance from the sale of her parents’ extensive bayside rainforest that would stay untouched for as long as Mira remained so belligerent about regaining her independence. Admirable enough from a purely moral perspective, but damned foolish from a practical one. If Mira had still been on talking terms with her, Garland probably would have encouraged her to dip into it and treat herself. The girl only had three possessions that she cared about, aside from her pet wallaby; two Braille books and a queer little bird-shaped toothpaste dispenser.

As things were now, Garland could only wait and give Mira the space she needed to pull her life together. Until then, surveillance reports would have to suffice in keeping half an eye on her — making sure that she didn’t fall into enemy hands again. Whether Mira Chambers liked it or not, she was still classified as a bio-weapon in the war against terrorists and other large-scale international military criminals. Her “hindsight” was an asset that couldn’t yet be replicated or reverse engineered, and that made her a national asset of the highest order.

Close cover was Lockman’s department now, whether he performed the duty consciously or not. Self-appointed, since he had his own grudge against Kitching and feelings enough for Mira to keep her safe. Skills enough too, despite only minimal time in training. Either way, hunting someone as slippery as Colonel Kitching was always going to require radical tactics, so having a loose cannon in the field like
Lockman hadn’t worried the general too much. She’d even wished him luck when she’d signed his discharge papers, and had his dog tags engraved with a code to ensure he could get military assistance fast, if ever he needed it.

She only wished he’d stop debugging their vehicle every time they came back to it.

‘Where to?’ Lockman asked as he accelerated out of the car park.

‘I don’t care.’ Mira pointed inland, generally. ‘So long as it’s away from here.’

He wants to meet me,
she added, keeping her sign language as low as possible to avoid being seen outside the vehicle.

As they jolted over a rough section of road, she wanted to warn him about the snipers watching him, but she couldn’t figure how to signify the word
watching
, or any word akin to it, without raising her hands up to her eyes unless she spelled it out, distracting him too long from the road. And she couldn’t use finger Braille to spell it out by touch without twisting sideways in her seat and laying both hands on his thigh or arm. Either way, she feared making it clear to anyone following that she was trying to communicate privately with him.

He didn’t respond anyway.

She reached for his arm to ensure she had his attention. Missed and touched his thigh by accident. He flinched, and the truck jolted, striking a pothole.

‘Whoa! Having enough fun for the moment, Mira. We have company. Some old friends from Garland, by the looks of them.’

Braking sharply, he turned off the punished bitumen onto a track that led into the neighbouring maze of cane fields. Dirt road, with ruts and dips, and flanked on either side by flooded drains. Rougher than a night of electro-shock treatment.

‘Hang on!’ he warned her. ‘They won’t be expecting this.’

‘Gee, you think?’ She gripped onto her invisible seatbelt, hating travel by road at the best of times.

He swerved sharply left onto a narrower farmer’s track, and she hovered over ruts like a bird hitting turbulence. Two turns later he splashed through a shallow creek, across a stretch of beach sand, and came to an abrupt halt, leaving the engine running and gritty dust swirling up through the air vents.

‘Having fun yet?’ he coughed.

‘And they called
me
insane?’

He gathered her hands for finger Braille.
There’s a bug in the car. A nasty one. I disabled the video, but they’ve still got audio on us.

One of Garland’s?

That depends. I’ve ditched two tails so far. How do you think your luck’s running?

Mira frowned, rolling her eyes. ‘I hate you.’

‘Yeah, I’m having a ball too. Just sit there, baby, and pretend to be a good girl until the rival team is off the field.’
It’s your game now.

Not by a long shot. Kitching has Freddie, I’m sure of it. He knew every word we’d say before we did, plus a few from a possible future I only thought about. He’s booked a room for my alias at the Point Lookout Hotel on North Stradbroke Island, but I’m not supposed to tell you any of this, and I’m supposed to ditch you before I meet him.

Or what?

Or … you can guess what.
She glanced about, hugging herself and fearing it could happen any second. She’d have to live with the guilt that he’d died in a filthy cane field because of her. Made her sick to the stomach. Guilt slugged her even harder to think that she’d blurted it out to him without at least trying to handle it all by herself, keep him apart from it and
simply ditch him like Kitching suggested. For years she’d coped by herself, so why not now? Yet deep inside she could still hear her smallest voice screaming for help.

‘We’re safe here,’ he assured her. ‘If Freddie had beaten us to this point, we’d have a murder of desert eagles flocking outside by now.’

‘I’ve only heard of a murder of crows.’

‘Then you’ve never seen a full commando unit bearing down on your position.’

‘No, but I’ve been cornered by a squad of psych nurses wearing taser gloves often enough. Same crap, different toilet.’
Please play it safe.

‘Always.’

She switched back to sign language for the deaf, splaying her hands up in front of her again in the hope he’d rejoin her for another private conversation.

Which alias?
he asked, without hesitation.
For the room booking.

What do you mean, which alias? The one Garland assigned to me.

Scarlet Pernel or Mike Charlie?

Mike Charlie?
She barely caught herself from blurting it aloud.
Since when did she ever assign me a man’s name?

Lockman chuckled, making it sound like another cough.
It’s the NATO phonetic alphabet. Garland’s a little unorthodox.

A little?

She uses our initials as code names. I’m Alpha Lima, you’re Mike Charlie …

O, gr8
… She sighed. ‘Just once, I’d like a simple day.’
I just assumed he meant Scarlet.

No problem. We’ll x that bridge later. What’s the T O R
?

What?

Time of rendezvous?
His fingers stumbled over the
letters, taking longer to remember how to make the Braille chord for a z, since he rarely used it.

He said 9 tonight. That’s 21 hundred, right?

He tapped his thumb twice against hers to signify yes.
Did he say where, exactly?

Mira shrugged, but it turned into a shiver. Perhaps she could keep Lockman out of it at the last minute after all. A simple trade; her life for Maddy’s, and then she could die happy. Or she could moon one of Garland’s satellites later, and rain hell on Kitching with the cavalry. Take down his home base too, wherever that was, so long as she could time it properly. Except Lockman would object to that plan, point blank. Tactics were his department, and he still had it in his head that she needed protection. So she had no choice. She had to lie to protect him.
In the parking lot.

Really?
Lockman shifted the engine into neutral, making the vibrations smoother through Mira’s seat.
He’s given us too much time to prepare. Like he’s inviting us to organise something so his plan will work. Or maybe he needs time to get his assets in place.

At Serenity, they’d call that paranoid.

A while ago, you warned me he’d be unbeatable.

‘Funny thing,’ she confessed, only realising it then herself. ‘All my fears disappeared when I accepted that I’ve lost.’
Now every minor victory is a big one.

What minor victory do you have in mind?

Me? Tactics are your department.

‘Mira,’ he scolded her — while startling her by patting her hand. ‘You are a lousy liar.’

I can’t tell you,
she insisted.
He’ll …

Kill you?

‘Oh, please.’
That would be a relief.

Kill Maddy?

‘We already knew that.’ She wished she could lock eyes with him so he’d know without needing to have it spelled out in Braille. Instead, she locked fingers
with him again and drew his hands up to her heart. ‘I learned from the best.’

‘Oh, really?’ He sounded genuinely surprised, perhaps taking it the wrong way. ‘When did I ever lie to you?’

‘Let’s start with the dead kid. I want to know what really happened in that alley.’
Kitching suggested there were details you didn’t tell me.

‘You’re the one with twenty-twenty hindsight. You should have checked it yourself.’

‘With hands shaking like this? I’d never focus.’
Kitching suggested it as a means of ditching you so you’d be busy, and he wouldn’t need to … take care of you.
‘I want radio recordings, yesterday’s news clippings. Anything you can get over the next day or two.’

‘Back up,’ he said, sounding flustered for a second. ‘A day or two? I thought you were in a hurry to find the matron?’

‘Hey, I can only go as fast as I can. If I need a day or two to review …’
or hunt clues to pick up his trail somewhere else,
‘then what else can I do?’

Wait, if he genuinely thinks I’ve been holding out on you,
‘Mira …’
he’s wrong. You know more than the cops, and do you know what that means?

She blinked momentarily, trying to figure it out. If Lockman had told her everything the cops knew, and Kitching didn’t know the minor details yet, like blood type and the other things she’d argued about with Lockman then … Her eyes widened in hope.
Freddie can’t hear everything?
Certainly not as much as she’d feared.

‘Care to test that?’ His voice took on such a devilishly wicked tone she almost smiled, but caught his hands together before he could try anything.

The price is too steep if we’re wrong.

It’s my life. If he knew we’d discuss this here, I’d be dead already.

She shook her head determinedly. ‘Mess about on your own time, soldier. I need you to get me to North Straddie. Now, please.’

‘You do realise we just left a marina with an hourly car ferry?’

‘Have you gone totally suicidal? We’ve already shaken two tails from there.’

‘I didn’t say I’d take you. Can’t shake them, if I can’t see them. And I haven’t even told you my plan yet.’

Nor can you
, she shouted with her hands. ‘What’s the command for on the double?’

‘Ah, that would be:
on the double
.’

Ben rolled down the narrow blue hall, headed for the phone in the kitchen.

Using only his elbows and forearms to work the wheels made the going difficult, and painful. The movements reverberated up through his woolly clubbed hands to his fractured fingers. Ahead, the bathroom door slid open on his right, and his mother rolled out in her own chair.

Blocking his path.

Her slender face and body looked as battered and bruised as his; their captors no gentler on her when they’d raided his beach house for Interrogation Day. He couldn’t blame her for resenting Mira now, but she’d have to get used to the idea that he …

‘I need to call her, Ma. I need to know she’s okay.’

‘The nurses have passed on all your messages, Benny. If she gave a damn about you, she would have visited, or at least sent a get well card by now.’

‘You don’t understand. I’ve called the house every hour, night and day, before and since leaving the hospital, and she hasn’t answered. Not once. The calls aren’t even going to voice mail.’

‘Calm down, Bennet. She’s blind, so she can hardly see the buttons to work voice mail. Maybe she bumped
it off the hook and went shopping. Socialising. Must take a lot longer when she has to feel her way everywhere, and she had nothing to wear. No friends since leaving the nut house. You can hardly blame her for staying out late and overdosing on all the new sensations.’

Ben shook his head, unable to tell her about Mira’s ability to see the past. She’d never believe it anyway. ‘All night too?’ he asked. ‘You don’t know her, Ma. What if
they
came back for her?’