Mammon (20 page)

GRACE OPENED ONE
eye, squinted at the clock and rolled over.

Three firm knocks sounded.

‘I'm asleep,' she groaned. ‘Go away!'

Joe poked his head in. ‘It's just me.'

‘What do you
want
?' She pressed her face into the pillow.

‘I need to talk to you about last night.' He sat down on the armchair and ran his fingers through his hair.

Grimacing, Grace sat up. She fumbled for a tissue. Her sinuses felt packed with concrete; her throat with sandpaper. ‘It's eleven-thirty,' said Joe, ‘I'm surprised Ivan hasn't dragged you out for training.'

‘Training's over, numbnuts.' She ignored his provocative grin and took a sip of water. ‘Anyway, I was out saving you from trouble in the middle of the night. I'm tired!'

Joe had a gleam in his eye. ‘Mammon has asked us to join his team.'

Grace blinked. ‘Us?'

He shrugged. ‘I told him you wouldn't go unless a certain Russian came along too.'

‘That's never going to happen.' Grace swung her legs over the edge of the bed. ‘What did you say?' With a yawn, she scanned the room for her bathrobe.

‘I told them I was interested.'

‘Because of that girl?'

‘Not just that. They seem very . . . effective.'

‘How would you know that?' Grace pulled on her robe and slid her feet into her slippers.

Joe's eyes glimmered. ‘Last night we killed the guys who murdered Mum and Dad.'

Grace froze halfway through tying her robe. ‘You did what?'

‘It was them! Mammon tracked them down.' Joe drew a deep, excited breath.

Grace sank on to the bed, her face pale. ‘Sarah and Seth have been trying for ages. Now you tell me Mammon found them overnight?'

‘Not overnight, Grace. It took them about a month.'

‘Yet, Sarah said there were no clues out there, whatsoever. They'd pretty much stopped searching.'

Bemused, Grace stared at the golden weave on her bedspread. That was it. They were gone. She ran her finger over the pattern. ‘I don't know what to say.'

‘Aren't you happy I got them?'

Grace looked up. Joe's face was twisted in anger, disappointment and contempt all at once.

‘Don't look at me like that! Yeah. Of course I'm happy. I just didn't expect it to be this way.'

For a few moments they sat quietly, then Grace gave Joe a piercing look. ‘Did you know you were going on that particular job when you left here last night?'

‘They didn't tell me until we got to the City.'

‘So why didn't you call me?' Grace jumped up with an incredulous glare. ‘I could've come up! Didn't it occur to you that I'd want to see the bastards?'

‘I didn't want you getting hurt.'

‘No, you just wanted to control everything.'

He watched her head for the door. ‘Where are you going?'

‘To get some breakfast. You can tell Ivan about last night; spread the good news.'

‘No.' He jumped up.

She frowned. ‘Why not?'

‘I don't want them to know. I just want us to leave here, Grace. Tonight.' He stood in the doorway, blocking her exit.

‘I'm not going, Joe.' She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm.

‘Grace! Please think about it.'

‘No.' She struggled.

‘Wait.' He squeezed her arm. ‘I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just wanted to avenge Mum and Dad. I felt like it was my place to do it.' He stared away, into the expanse of the hallway.

She regarded him. His face was so childlike, so open. A wave of compassion hit her. Last night, just before he'd vanished out of the gate, she'd noticed that his eyes were shining red. She'd written it off as a reflection, a trick of the eyes. But now – the glow was even more pronounced.

‘Your eyes are very red, Joe.'

He shrugged. ‘I'm tired. Big night last night.' He raised his eyebrows. ‘So? We all good, then?'

‘Yeah,' she mumbled. ‘We're good.'

Joe trudged away, towards the recreation room. Grace followed at a distance, her mind consumed by his revelations.

* * *

IVAN AND SARAH
were making orange juice in the kitchenette. Seth was camped on the sofa, staring at his computer; Malcolm sat flicking through TV channels.

Ivan looked up from the counter. ‘Ah, Joe. Good morning.'

‘Hi.'

Grace padded across to the counter. She gave Ivan a smile. ‘Hello.'

‘Good morning,' said Ivan. He glanced at her rabbit slippers and matching bunny pyjamas. Smiling, he passed her a glass of juice.

Despite her worry, she felt a warm, tingling glow, starting from her toes and culminating in a bubbly feeling in her stomach. He was using that voice again, that deep, soft tone that was just for her. She let her eyes wander, taking in the stubble on his chin and the way his eyes twinkled under the kitchen lights.

‘Are you feeling better?'

Grace shook her head. ‘But the juice is nice.' She took a sip and leaned across the counter, watching Ivan cut orange halves and pass them to Sarah, who pressed them into the machine.

‘Oh, that reminds me.' Sarah turned away from the bench and reached into a drawer. ‘Here, I got these for you.' She passed Grace a white box of tablets. ‘Cold and flu. They should help.'

‘Thanks. That's really nice of you.' Grace slid the box into her pocket.

Joe swept past the counter, heading for the fridge.

‘Morning,' said Sarah in a half-whisper. She gave him a shy look.

‘Hi,' he said, without a glance.

Sarah's eyes clouded over. She bit her lip as she crushed another orange half.

Joe yanked a can of cola from the fridge and crashed on the sofa, kicking his feet up on to the table. His eyes wandered to the TV, where a blonde reporter was standing in front of a house. She looked like a bit like Haures – same hair, great body . . .
He imagined touching her locks, feeling the soft waves give under his fingers. Absentmindedly, he watched images of police, clad in blue overalls, moving about behind the reporter.

Then it struck him. Oh no.

The reporter was standing in front of the cottage from last night.

‘Residents of the inner-city suburb of Mettham are in shock this morning after eight people were found shot dead in a local backpacker hostel. Nearly all of the victims were exchange students who attended nearby Eastside Technical College.'

Sarah gasped. ‘Exchange students. They come here because it's a safe place to visit, and this happens!'

‘There is speculation that the shootings were linked to the Northern Raiders motorcycle club, whose members frequently stayed at the hostel. However, none of the victims have been identified as club members. Northern Raiders founder Mike Eberts cannot be contacted for comment. Eberts was recently acquitted on armed robbery charges, fuelling speculation that the murders were not an act of revenge, but a tragic case of mistaken identity.'

Joe stared at the image of the biker. He remembered his face from last night as he sent him to his death. But why did the students have to die? Surely they wouldn't talk . . . who would believe a story about a giant cloud that swallowed people alive?

Ivan put down the knife. ‘How strange.'

Grace looked at him. ‘What?'

‘Eberts was on our hit list. Hobbs's team was scheduled to go up there tomorrow night.' He walked across to the sofa and leaned on the headrest. ‘I wonder if another outfit beat us to it?'

A chill spread across the back of Joe's neck. He jumped up. ‘Anyone want to play?' Hands shaking, he began to sort the pool balls into formation.

A sick feeling spread across Grace's chest as she watched Joe fumble with the billiard balls.

That was them! The people you killed!

He shot her a warning look. ‘Leave it alone,' he whispered.

The reporter continued.
‘Police have released a CCTV video, which shows what they believe to be the group behind the killings as they approach the scene.'

Joe froze. Grace shot a look at the others. What would the others do if Joe's face came up on screen?

‘However, due to the poor quality of the images, police do not hold up much hope that they will assist in identifying the suspects.'

Joe breathed out.

He remembered an old saying of Dad's: Sometimes the innocent have to be sacrificed for the greater good. It wasn't his fault.

He didn't pull the trigger.

He replaced the triangle over the hook and looked across at Ivan. ‘Game?'

‘Sure.' Ivan stood up and picked up a cue. He chalked the tip, took aim and broke. A coloured ball rebounded off the pocket and swung back into the middle.

Grace walked away from the counter and stood near the door. ‘Joe, I need a word.'

‘Later, Grace.'

Yes, now, or I'll keep rattling inside your head. We need to talk, Joe!

With a growl, Joe threw down the pool cue. ‘Give me a minute, Ivan.' He stalked out to the corridor where Grace waited. ‘What?'

‘I'm going to ask you straight,' she whispered. ‘Was that them?'

‘Do you really think I would murder innocent people?'

‘No.'

‘So, you shouldn't have any questions for me.' His eyes flashed with anger as he turned back towards the room.

‘Wait!' She grabbed his sleeve. ‘I'm not accusing you of anything.' She watched him closely. ‘But you
can
talk to me, Joe.'

‘I don't know anything about those people! Now back off, Grace!'

Trembling, Grace watched him walk back to the pool table. He picked up the cue and took a shot.

Sarah caught her eye. ‘Grace, how about we have a DVD marathon today? We don't have any jobs on, do we, boss?'

Ivan shook his head. ‘Nothing as yet.'

Grace sniffed, fumbling in her pocket for a tissue. ‘Sounds good. Just let me go have a shower first.' As she moved towards the bathroom, a great burden of worry settled on her shoulders, filling her with dread, and she knew it wouldn't shift until she found out the truth about last night.

Sarah waited until Grace had left the room and then sidled up next to Joe. ‘I've organised a surprise for your sister. A belated birthday party. Tonight.' She leaned over the pool table and gave him her sweetest smile.

Joe watched Ivan take his shot. ‘Oh, yeah.' He shrugged. ‘Sounds all right.'

Sarah caught her breath. ‘Oh.' Red-faced, she looked down. ‘I just need you and Ivan to start the bonfire –'

‘What time?'

‘Sundown.' Sarah gave him a quizzical look. ‘Why, got other plans?'

Joe shook his head. ‘Nothing you need to worry about. Sure, I'll help Ivan start the fire.' He pushed the pool cue in front of her. ‘Excuse me. You're in my way, and I need to take my shot.'

* * *

AS THE CREDITS
for the third movie crawled up the screen, Grace watched the late afternoon shadows start to move across the window. She drew a long breath through her nose. The burn in her throat had disappeared; her head felt lighter. The tablets had done their work.

She glanced across at Sarah. Her friend's jaw was tight. She'd been fidgeting with the hem of her jumper the whole time and gazing out of the window at regular intervals. Grace did a quick scan around the now-abandoned rec room; the guys had gone off to play football on the oval a while ago.

She looked back at Sarah. ‘Are you okay? I . . . feel as if something's not right.'

Sarah lifted her chin and breathed deeply. ‘Does your brother . . .?' She sighed and hung her head. ‘Never mind.'

Grace curled her legs up into her chest and rested her head on her arms. ‘What's wrong?' She examined Sarah's lowered head.

‘Nothing,' Sarah muttered, her cheeks aflame. ‘It's just – maybe I got my signals mixed up. He seemed so friendly but now he's gone cold.'

‘Oh.' Grace could feel it, hear it in Sarah's voice: the pain of unrequited love. ‘I'm sorry. I think you and Joe would be great together.'

Sarah pulled together a smile. ‘I don't know if he thinks that.'

‘Sarah –'

‘I don't really want to talk about it, Grace.'

‘Okay.' Grace uncurled her legs and sat forward. She took a sip of water and was relieved to find that the liquid slid down without any pain. ‘Thanks again for those tablets. They worked really well.'

‘It was all part of the plan.'

Frowning, Grace watched her friend stand up. She cocked her head. ‘What plan?'

‘Come with me if you want to find out.' Sarah thrust out her hand.

‘O-kay.' Smiling and frowning at the same time, Grace let Sarah help her up from the sofa. Her mind racing, she followed her friend down the hallway. ‘What's going on?'