The Big Smoke. Jason Nahrung
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when no one had moved, 'Out! Out!'
Kevin said, 'What about the Needle?'
'Yes, yes. Melpomene can keep you off the streets until the arrangements have been made. Now, out, the lot of you — out!'
'Blake's a twat,' Mel said as soon as they hit the street.
'What's that?'
'Giving you Ambrose like that. Risking, maybe even hoping, you'd lose it.'
'Why would he do that?'
'To make a point. To me.'
'I don't understand.'
'Don't worry. Just remember that Blake always puts Blake first, and you'll be fine.'
The car was where they'd left it.
'How was his lordship this evening?' Greaser asked.
'His usual charming self,' Mel said.
'So, what now?'
'Let's drive. Give Kevin the Cook's tour of Brissie.'
Kevin held his hand out. Greaser scowled, but gave him the keys.
Once they were rolling, he said, 'Those blokes back at the tatt shop—'
'The Viscounts,' Greaser said.
'Yeah, the Happy Days bunch. Why were they there?'
'The bowling alley was shut?'
Mel ignored Greaser's joke. 'They're from the south side. They aren't meant to be this side of the river. They'll get their knuckles rapped.'
'But they were looking for me. How did they know I'd be there?'
'Jack Flash might've been having a bob each way,' Mel said.
'No, he was the Needle's mate,' Greaser said. 'He wouldn't have crossed him. Why even bother to tell us Kev was in town if he was going to shop him?'
'The bint?' Mel suggested.
'You mean the counter girl?' Kevin asked.
'Jen might have connections, I s'pose,' Greaser said. 'I don't know her too well.'
'And why the Viscounts? Why would they care?' Mel wondered.
'A favour? They want West End, but the Vultures won't have a bar of them. And everyone wants the Valley. Maybe they thought the bumpkin, sorry mate, no offence, but maybe they thought Kev would give them a bargaining chip.'
'But why would Jen go to them? Why not go straight to VS?'
'No contacts?'
'What, she couldn't get the number out of the book?'
'Couldn't drop a note through the letter box? No, there's something going on.' She looked at Kevin, as though he had some secret written on his forehead.
Greaser huffed and sat back in her seat. 'I don't know why we stay here, Mel. Why do we stay here?'
'That's why.' She poked a finger at a queue lined up for cabs or a bus, or maybe to get into some fancy club.
'Nom, nom, nom,' Greaser said, sarcastically.
'Brissie's not the only town in Queensland,' Kevin said.
'It's the biggest. Easy to get lost in. To go unnoticed in.'
'Except for VS watching everyone,' Greaser said. 'Taking tithes.'
Mel looked at Kevin. 'Get rid of VS, and this could be a very nice town indeed.'
'That's not why I'm here.'
'No? I've seen inside your blood.'
'Then you know who I want.'
'What makes you think you can get Mira without going through the rest of them?'
'That's what I need to speak to the Needle about.'
No one spoke for a while and he turned on the radio. Mel turned it down.
'Nice car,' Greaser said.
'Yeah,' he said. 'A friend gave it to me.'
'Subtle,' she said.
'It's a classic.'
'If you die, can I have it?'
Mel scolded her, but Kevin laughed. 'Why not?' And then sobered. 'When do I get to see the Needle?'
'Blake's off in reverie,' Mel said. 'Could be tomorrow night. Maybe the night after.'
'Damn.' His hands tightened on the wheel as he stared at the valleys of concrete and bitumen. Now that Hunter knew he was here, the clock was ticking. He would never see Hunter coming in this crowded, foreign wilderness.
'Are you in such a rush to die?' Mel asked.
'Should I drop you two somewhere?' Kevin asked.
'Why? Where are you going?'
He gestured to the city, a vague somewhere.
'Don't be silly,' Mel said. 'You'll stay with me tonight.'
Greaser shook her head. 'Now who's in a rush to die?'
'You can mind the car,' Mel told her, and Greaser mumbled, 'Well, just remember that I get your flat when you kick the bucket.'
NINE
They'd been told to report immediately on arriving at Thorn, but Reece was taking a detour.
'We'll be late,' Felicity said as they rode the lift.
'Better late than dead on time,' Reece said.
'You think we're for it?' She trembled, and he admired her control as she pulled herself together in a matter of seconds.
'Clock's ticking. I want to see if Mira can buy us some time.'
'She can't even tell the time.'
'We'll see.'
They got out on 11 and stepped through the sliding doors into the ward: off-white walls, rows of beds, tinted windows. A suffocating scent of antiseptic, the stale-breath hint of blood, clouded around them. Hospitaller Dr Tran and esteemed Treasurer Tony Campbell had their heads together at the far end of the room, right outside the restricted area. They looked up like startled emus as Reece and Felicity approached. Campbell jerked his head in their direction, an action akin to throwing a stick for a dog, and Tran strode toward them, his hands in the pockets of his white smock, stethoscope looped around his neck like a snake.
'What are you two doing here?' the doctor demanded to know.
'Wanted to check on the boss,' Reece said.
'No visitors in isolation.'
'Since when?'
'Since now.'
'How is she?' Reece indicated the sealed door at Campbell's back, marked by a No Entry sign and the newly placed scarlet psi symbol marking it as a mental isolation room, dangerous to enter.
'The cacophony has worsened. The Strigoi is deep in bedlam now. Any deeper, she may never surface again.' He shrugged. What was one to do?
'I need to talk to her. It's important. About a case.'
'It is hard enough for her to manage her internal world, without you muddying the waters.'
The door to Mira's room opened and Vee emerged. Reece groaned, and felt rather than saw Felicity's warning glance. Vee smirked at him, minced across in her — his/their — knee-high pumps.
Tran stepped back as Mira's understudy reached them, as though Vee radiated cold.
Vee looked as though he/she/they had come out of a freezer: short hair frosted silver, eyebrows shaved to the skin, eyelashes and lips silvered, a figure-hugging sheath of white PVC. Sexless, no tell-tale bumps anywhere. Bluish fingernails glinted like shards of ice.
Pale