Max Arena (35 page)

‘That can be
arranged, my friend,’ Abdullah replied from next to Joe, as he
looked up at the night sky. ‘I can assure you they are a ride worth
having at least once in your life.’

Joe smiled and
placed his pipe between his teeth, taking false draws to further
relax himself. He then slid a sideways glance to Max who stood a
little further out on the grass, more in the dark than in the
light. He was restless tonight, but perhaps that was to be
expected. All of them were still trying to unwind after their
hectic afternoon spent coordinating and executing Max’s first
public training session. The dregs of their adrenalin were
beginning to sputter out, but still sleep eluded them.

‘What’s on your
mind, Max?’ Joe asked.

Max flicked a
sideways glance at his Prime Minister and then back to the night.
‘I was trying to remember that song that came over the PA system
this afternoon at the end of the session. The one where the whole
crowd started to do that overhead clapping thing.’

‘Yes, I
remember,’ Joe replied. ‘It was very popular. Inspirational even.
Perhaps it could be the Team Max theme song?’

‘Yeah, maybe,’
Max agreed, ‘but we should probably check that off with Kris. She’s
the marketing executive.’

‘Hmm,’ Joe
hummed, but said nothing more as he mentally ran through the
afternoon’s events again.

The silence
grew. Abdullah remained fixed on the stars overhead. Peter
continued to scan the nocturnal surrounds and Joe quietly puffed on
his pipe. The only exception was Max, who shuffled from foot to
foot, constantly half turning to look around at nothing in
particular.

‘I envy your
energy, Max,’ Joe said, ‘except at times like this when sleep
should be knocking on your door. Is there something you could
suggest to help settle you down?’

‘Well, maybe,’
Max replied coyly. ‘What about poker?’

Joe raised his
eyebrows. ‘Poker? Now that’s an interesting proposition. Why
poker?’

‘We’ve got four
grown men standing around in the dark, late at night, not doing
much. There’s got to be some cards in this place somewhere and how
many more times are we going to get away from the girls to have a
boys’ night?’

Joe nodded.
‘It’s good reasoning, but unfortunately, old chap,’ he said, ‘I
have to place some calls tonight. In particular to your good friend
President Bartholomew. I am expecting him to request another
audience with you seeing as you now have the attention of the
world. I suspect he is feeling a little jealous at your rapid rise
to stardom and the fact that you are not borne of the stars and
stripes.’

Abdullah cast a
sideways glance at this last comment, but held his peace.

‘Well, he can
queue up like everyone else if he wants to be in the crowd,’ Max
replied. ‘Abdullah? Fancy a few hands of poker?’

Abdullah
smiled. ‘I am sorry, Max,’ he replied, ‘but gambling is not
permitted by my faith.’

‘We don’t have
to play for money, which is probably a good thing, considering I’ve
never played poker in my life.’

‘Really?’ Joe
chimed in. ‘You’ve never played poker, Max?’

Max shook his
head. ‘Never had any friends to play with.’

Joe’s eyebrows
arched slightly as Max’s revelation sunk in. Without replying, he
returned his pipe to his mouth.

‘So, Max,’
Peter said from a little further across to the side of the patio,
‘you’re telling us there’s something you’re not good at?’

‘Mate, rest
assured,’ Max answered, ‘there’s plenty of things I’m not good
at.’

Peter nodded
and held his quiet as he spied a foot patrol emerging from round
the corner of the mansion to begin walking out onto the lawn, their
night camouflage rendering them almost invisible, but not to his
eyes.

Joe broke into
the silence. ‘That was an outstanding juggling act today, Max,’ he
said. ‘How heavy were those kettlebells?’

‘Fifteen kilos
each.’

‘Impressive.
Have I told you I can juggle?’

Max and even
Abdullah turned as one to look at Joe. Peter also slid a sideways
glance to his Prime Minister.

‘Not fifteen
kilo kettlebells mind you,’ Joe added, ‘but in my hey day I could
keep at least five balls airborne. Every now and again I still keep
my hand in and do three or four balls. It helps keep my mind agile.
Scientifically proven you know?’

‘I’m sure it
is, Mister Prime Minister,’ Max said. ‘I can see you in your
office, prepping for a cabinet meeting or a press conference,
juggling away. You should put on a show for us some day. Millie and
Jason would love it. Heck, I’d love it.’

Joe smiled and
raised his pipe in salute. ‘I’ll put it on the calendar. Not this
week though. I’ll need some time to dust off the skills first.’

‘What about
you, Abdullah?’ Max asked. ‘Any hidden talents?’

‘Brooms,’ the
Sheikh replied.

This time Max
and Joe shared a look.

‘Brooms?’ Max
asked.

‘Yes, brooms,’
Abdullah said. ‘As a teenager I once balanced four brooms
simultaneously. One standing upright on each outstretched palm. A
third standing upright on my left foot and a fourth standing
upright on the bridge of my nose.’

‘That’s...different,’ Max said.

‘Yes, and most
rewarding too,’ Abdullah returned, ‘right up until the moment the
broom on my nose slipped off and lodged into my eye and the whole
show came tumbling down. Never again have I tried since that
moment, preferring to retire at the peak of my prowess.’

Max smiled.
‘What do you think, Joe? Fancy yourself at broom balancing?’

‘No,’ Joe
replied. ‘Some people have the gift and well, the rest of us do
not.’

‘What about
you, Peter?’ Max asked, turning back to his bodyguard to find him
looking upwards at the roof line of the mansion. ‘What’s your
secret talent?’

‘I can put six
rounds through the centre of a target at three hundred metres in
less than four seconds,’ he replied evenly.

Max
deliberately paused to let Peter try again, which he did.

‘And as a kid I
taught myself how to throw cards,’ Peter said. ‘You know, playing
cards? I could flick them into a bucket four or five metres away
and never miss. I’ve always been good with my aim.’

‘You still do
it when no one’s around?’ Max asked.

A slight pause
and then Peter said, ‘Yeah. When no one’s around. It’s...well, you
know, it’s fun. I reckon I could even beat you at it.’

‘I have no
doubt,’ Max replied. ‘Like I said, there’re plenty of things I’m no
good at it.’

A mutual
silence slipped over the group. Joe puffed away on his unlit pipe.
Abdullah mentally traced the constellations overhead, while Peter
continued to scan the surrounds. Max merely looked about at nothing
in particular, shuffling his feet and folding his arms. The silence
stretched and then Max broke it.

‘You really
want to know what I’m no good at?’ Max asked. None of the other
three men turned to face him, but all of them refixed their full
attention onto him. ‘Emotions. I don’t do emotions very well.’

Another brief
pause ensued, which Joe ventured into.

‘You’ll have to
help us with that one, Max?’ Joe asked.

‘Nar’gellans
don’t do emotions. Feelings just don’t come naturally to them. Not
even anger when they fight. Nar’gellans’ actions and behaviours are
driven by purpose alone. If getting angry serves a purpose, they
behave aggressively. If they lose a loved one, they move straight
on past it. There’s no remorse or grieving. They just accept it and
get on with their own lives.’

‘What about
love?’ Abdullah asked. ‘Did your mother love you?’

‘No, I don’t
think so,’ Max answered, looking down at his shuffling feet. ‘As a
kid, I knew Mum was hard on me, but I just figured she wasn’t one
for cuddles and kisses, so I dealt with that, but then as I got
older and she told me the truth of who she was and who I am, it all
came together. If she had ever shown anything that looked or felt
like love, it probably wasn’t real love. It was just a behaviour
she used to make sure there was meaning in my childhood.
Nar’gellans know as well as humans that children need to know they
are safe and protected, so they can have confidence to grow and
learn. That’s all my mother was doing for me when she acted like
she loved me.’

‘And your human
side?’ Abdullah asked. ‘Has it increased your capacity to
feel?’

‘Maybe a little
bit. I probably do have more emotional range and depth than any
Nar’gellan does, but it’s all pretty shallow and most of the times
pretty clumsy. I’d probably behave the same way at a funeral as I
would at a kid’s birthday party. Dull. I just don’t know what to
feel most of the time, so I try to avoid feelings all
together.’

‘Do
you
feel love?’ Abdullah pushed.

Max hesitated.
Peter, Abdullah and Joe noticed the hesitation and let it play
out.

‘Yes,’ Max
finally replied. ‘It’s probably one of the two emotions I do feel
clearly. I love my family, so much that sometime it’s
dangerous.’

‘Why
dangerous?’ Abdullah asked very carefully.

‘If anyone
threatens them, it drives me into rage, which is the only other
emotion I know I feel clearly. I don’t do angry. It’s too docile.
If I get triggered, I cut straight to rage and as you can probably
imagine, that’s not a good place for me to be. It can be bad for
other people too.’

Abdullah turned
to face Max, his white robes gently billowing in the light breeze.
Max tasted salt on the zephyr as he looked the Sheikh in the
eye.

‘But, prior to
your confrontation with those thugs outside Kris’ brother’s house,’
Abdullah asked, ‘you’ve never hurt anyone have you?’

‘Max shook his
head and said, ‘No. Not before then.’

‘Why is
that?’

‘Elsa. She’s
had to intervene a couple of times. I won’t say when or why, but if
she hadn’t stepped in, chances are I’d have blood on my hands. I
know I’ve got it in me to kill. I’m half Nar’gellan and those
instincts are hard to put down when they get fired up, but Elsa
knows how to settle me down and for that I’m grateful. If she
hadn’t saved me on those earlier occasions, Millie and Jason
wouldn’t have a dad around them and for that, I’d never forgive
myself.’

Abdullah held
Max’s gaze for a few more moments in the gloom. He then nodded and
turned back to the sky. Peter also realised he had unconsciously
halted his instinctive scanning of the surrounds and flicked his
gaze back up to the fringing bushes around the lawn. The silence
lengthened.

‘Well, I think
it might be time for me to make that call to President
Bartholomew,’ Joe said, removing his pipe and sighing. ‘Thank you
for your company tonight, gentlemen. It wasn’t poker, but it did
help me to relax. May I also congratulate you all one more time on
our successful media foray this afternoon. Time will tell, but I do
believe we have already begun to turn the world’s despair into
hope, so thank you and good evening.’

‘
Masa`a al khair
,‘
Abdullah said without turning.

‘Good night,
sir,’ Peter added.

With that, Joe
turned on his heel and walked back inside as Peter spoke quietly
into his wrist microphone, announcing the Prime Minister’s return
into the mansion.

‘I think it’s
time to get Peter into bed too,’ Max said, stretching his clasped
hands over his head. ‘Come on, mate. Our work here is done.’

Peter nodded
and stepped closer to him.

‘You staying
up, your Highness?’ Max asked.

‘Yes, for a
little longer,’ Abdullah replied, not turning away from the night.
‘I have much left to reflect on.’

‘See you
tomorrow then,’ Max said and he and Peter walked into the house,
leaving Abdullah on his lonesome.

Abdullah did
not reply or even turn. He kept his gaze fixed squarely on the
night sky, but his eyes were unseeing, his thoughts turned inwards.
The afternoon media session that unveiled Max to the world had
indeed proven to be a huge success and he felt very pleased and
even heartened by their prospects as a result. However, Abdullah
now had a new issue and it focused again on Max.

His revelation
of his immature emotional intelligence was a concern. If Max could
not control his Nar’gellan instincts to kill, then he ran a real
risk of losing his control in the arena and being defeated or even
worse, seeking a glorious death like an ancient Samurai. That was
out of the question and now Abdullah had a new goal. How to reign
in Max’s Nar’gellan instincts, but not subdue them at the same
time.

Despite the
lateness of the hour, Abdullah knew sleep would not come easily to
him tonight.

4:30pm, 10
^th
September (almost 1 month
later). Rescue

Rain streaked
down the car window, preventing Max from seeing much of anything
outside. Not that it mattered. There was nothing to see anyway.
They were on the freeway, elevated above the suburbs of Brisbane,
but instead of cruising amidst a steady flow of traffic, the entire
Team Max convoy was stationary and had been for at least the last
ten minutes. If Max
could
see outside, he knew that all he
would see is a car park.

Sitting on his
lonesome in the back of the central van, he occupied himself with
only his thoughts. Max had just completed another public training
session and was on his way home to the island estate via the
airport. Elsa and the kids had stayed home this time and Kris had
headed off to see her parents and brother. Max hated being apart
from his family, even for only a couple of hours, which this trip
was meant to be, but now with the freeway as mobile as a blocked
artery, it was going to be even longer.

Then Peter’s
voice sounded over the internal speakers in the cabin. ‘We got a
multiple car accident up ahead,’ he said. ‘Eye in the sky thinks
there might be someone trapped in one of the cars too. Could be
here a while. If you want, we can call the chopper in and air lift
you direct off the freeway?’