Ten o'clock at night, and using relatively isolated roads, made countering vehicle surveillance easy enough: just check the rearview mirror and pull over to the side of the road on the downside of a crest. Jay only needed to conduct the drill in two occasions while Sarah slept for the remaining forty-minute drive to the secluded location in the Gold Coast hinterland.
Brisbane's outer southern suburbs had extended their reach toward the mixture of lush grazing pastures and thick forested areas. It wouldn't be long before they clawed into, and overcame, the tranquil settings. The Bearded Dragon hotel loomed after a sharp bend on the country road. The vacancy sign flashed a welcome and he pulled the rental into the hotel driveway.
The crisp country air filled his lungs as he stepped out of the vehicle. He let Sarah sleep while he went inside the small front office to secure a room. He pressed a buzzer that had been glued to the counter. Theme-park posters hung around the confined space and he marvelled at how they'd managed to squeeze an oversized snack-vending machine into such a small office.
Vinyl strips that hung in the doorway behind the counter were pushed aside and a thirty-something woman in a nightie and pigtails came to the counter. Jay explained that he would like a room for one night, possibly two, and said that he and his girlfriend were visiting from Victoria. The woman accepted the credit card details, appeared to accept his story, and handed him two swipe cards for access to a room at the end of the complex.
All the rooms were on the same level and formed a quarter moon shape around lush gardens. Jay drove around the carpark to the rear of the hotel and picked a spot that shed the least light on the vehicle. With a sudden alertness that surprised him, Sarah woke and hopped out of the car. They made their way to the room and tossed their backpacks onto the floor.
Before going to bed Sarah showered, an opportunity Jay had been waiting for. He'd made the excuse of wanting a cigarette and a nightcap before taking a shower himself. She shrugged, undressed at the end of the bed and closed the door of the bathroom behind her.
Jay waited to hear the water run before retrieving Sarah's phone from her jeans. The last outward call displayed a number Jay knew. It belonged to Uncle Pat. There was another call registered to the same number while Sarah was in the café. The only other outgoing call was to a number he didn't know, made just prior to the first call to Uncle Pat. He assumed it was the police contact to interview Catherine. He started paging through to the outgoing calls.
'What are you doing?'
He spun around and held his breath. Sarah had poked her head around the bathroom door, water dripping to the floor from her drenched hair.
He held her phone toward her and slowly breathed out before answering. 'I thought I heard it ring. Must be hearing things.'
Her eyes narrowed. 'Can you pass me a towel?'
Jay dropped the phone on the bed and picked up one of the hotel towels. He handed it to her and she closed the bathroom door. He didn't know what to make of the calls to Uncle Pat, who had specifically stated they were not to call him.
He smoked while pouring four mini bottles of scotch into two glasses. He added a touch of dry ginger ale to each and set them down on the table by the bay window. For the first time that night, Jay felt tired. He extinguished his cigarette and headed for the shower.
Sarah was in a hotel robe, brushing her damp hair, as he walked in. The steamy bathroom was thick with tension. He undressed without saying a word and stepped into the shower. The strength came back into his body as he relaxed under the hot water. His mind raced, trying to rationalise Sarah's phone calls but he couldn't come up with any logical explanations. Before turning off the taps, he decided to confront her.
Half of Sarah's drink had disappeared by the time he walked out of the bathroom in a matching hotel robe. She stood at the bay window staring out at the moonlit garden. Jay picked up his drink and joined her.
'Beautiful night, isn't it?' he said.
'It's so peaceful out here and you can see the stars. I love the country.'
Jay finished his drink in three mouthfuls and decided on another before he went to sleep. He wanted to keep the little girl out of his head tonight. The scotch would help. This time he poured half the miniature bottle into his drink and swigged the rest. As he reached for the bottle of dry ginger ale, his vision blurred. Strange, he thought. Couldn't be drunk after one scotch. The bottle shook in his hand as he squinted to pour it into his glass. He felt exhausted. He placed the bottle on the table and sat on the bed. A moment's rest was all he needed, or so he thought. He lay down and shut his eyes.
The little girl with the suicide vest visited his dreams and spoke for the first time. Words beyond her youth. 'It's all right, mister,' she said. 'I'm not here to hurt you anymore. Can you see it now? Can you see the rainbow? Can you hear the birds? You know, I remember the birds. That was before you came here. The bombs scared them away, I think. My ears hurt because of the bombs. But you're going to stop them now. I know you will.'
Jay saw his hand reaching out for the little girl. The rose tattoo glowed under the searing desert sun. Beads of sweat played over the petals on his wrist like they had just been watered. Then the water drops turned red. The drops became larger and began to run down his arm. He turned his wrist downward and the red started to pour onto the little girl's bare feet. He quickly turned his wrist over but the blood continued to flow. He tried to withdraw his arm but he couldn't move it. The rest of his body was frozen in time under the Iraqi heat. All he could do was watch the crimson flow from his rose tattoo. He looked into the little girl's eyes.
She was frowning deeply. 'You could have stopped this war. You hear me, Jay? You could have stopped it. Too many of my people have died, but you could have stopped this war. We just want our land back, our lives back. Why won't you leave, Jay? You can still stop it. Tell the world they moved the big bombs. Tell the world the Jews have the big bombs. You can do it. Why haven't you told the world? Why are you still here? This is my country. I'm not angry with you anymore, Jay. Just leave and I'll be happy. You can do it.'
Jay could only stare, still glued to the spot.
The little girl continued. Her frown became a scowl. 'Don't look at me like that. Don't be a fucking hero. I'll blow my bomb, Jay. Go on: tell everybody what you did to me, Jay. You made me wear the vest. Nobody else did. You killed me. You killed us. Let me live, let us live. Tell the world, Jay. Tell the world that you fucked up. Be a man. Tell the world, you useless piece of shit.' Her pitch rose to a screech. 'Get out of my fucking country or I'll blow you all up! Tell the world or I'll kill you all.' She calmed herself and smiled. 'Last chance, Jay. For tomorrow you die. Make it right. Tell the world, fucker.'
He reached out to stop her leaving, and then noticed his hand again. Blood dripped from his fingers. It soaked into his camouflaged shirt and crept toward his chest. The scream could not escape his lips.
'Tell the world, Jay.' She unstrapped the vest, dropped it at his feet and walked away.