Chapter Ten

Ben lived in a rented townhouse in Pakuranga, Mike’s first stop after leaving the Standen’s home in Meadowbank. He parked a couple of houses down and walked forward.

It was a normal residential street with a few walkers out and most people at work. Mike paused at the top of the drive and quickly scanned the property, seeing no dogs or movement. The carport was empty and the windows were clear of condensation.

He walked to the front door, checking the windows as he went, and knocked. A few seconds pause and another knock. No reply.

Mike cut down the side and checked the kitchen windows. No sign of any breakfast dishes or other mess. The rear windows revealed the lounge and dining area, fully furnished but still no sign of anyone being there recently.

The small backyard was all stone gardens with weeds sprouting through, and the grass had long been replaced with paving stones.

Mike moved around to the far side and went through the carport, and back to the front door. He knocked again and waited, but still no response. Shielding his actions from view with his body, he gently tried the door handle. Locked.

Grunting with frustration, he stepped back and headed for the driveway. Suddenly he whirled and scanned the upstairs window, hoping to catch a flicker of movement. Nothing.

Digging a copy of the Yellow Pages out of his boot, he let his fingers do the walking and soon found a number of martial arts establishments in the area. Not surprising, given the high Asian population in the eastern suburbs, but not too helpful right now either. He cross referenced the addresses against his Navman, and made a shortlist of the closest 5, working on the basis that people are essentially lazy and will usually go with the closest option to home.

The first outfit turned out to be a pure Asian dojo, where the guy that answered the door didn’t speak a word of English and wasn’t interested in trying to communicate at all. Mike left him to it and moved on to the next one, a Thai kick boxing gym.

The manager that he spoke to there was nearly a foot shorter than Mike with not an ounce of body fat on him, various tattoos on his limbs and torso and some vicious scar tissue round the face.

He listened without blinking to Mike’s cover story about being recommended to the gym by a guy Ben from work, and would it be possible to maybe get a membership. When Mike finished his prepared spiel, the guy nodded ever so slightly and sniffed.

‘Your story is full of crap, friend,’ he said. ‘No guy Ben comes here. You got the wrong place.’

‘Oh, okay...’

‘You a cop?’

‘No.’ Mike knew he could handle himself, but this little dude looked like he could snap his neck just by thinking it, and he hoped ‘No’ was the right answer.

‘That’s good.’ The little guy looked him up and down. ‘Didn’t think so. You must be Army.’

‘Once upon a time, yeah. What’re you, a detective?’

‘I used to be Army. Then I was a cop. Now I do this.’

‘Uh huh. So now you’re wondering why I’m asking about this guy Ben?’

The little guy smiled and nodded again.

‘Yes. I am.’

Mike gave him the Reader’s Digest version, and within a minute he had two nominations of likely places to try. Both had been on his list, but only one was in the closest 5. Both of them, the little dude explained, catered to white boys who wanted a decent martial arts dojo as well as a standard gym.

Mike shook his hand, lost all feeling in his fingers for a few seconds, and carried on. The first gym he had been given was the most likely, according to his new friend, who also gave him the name of a guy he knew who worked there.

Mike parked in the carpark, checked for Ben’s hire car, and didn’t see it. He went to Reception and spoke to a muscular young guy with the name Jason on his name tag. It was immediately apparent that Mike’s new friend from the Thai place had called ahead, because Jason was expecting him.

‘You’re looking for Ben, right?’ he said, before Mike had even opened his mouth.

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘We have a guy called Ben here, a white guy? Is that who you’re after?’

‘Ben Jenkins?’

‘Um, one moment.’ Jason tapped his keyboard to check, and it was at that moment that Mike saw Ben crossing the gym floor through the main doors.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I found him.’

He pushed through the doors into the cacophony of hi-tempo music, grunts of exertion and the clang of weights being moved. Ben was moving towards the dojo on the far side of the room, dressed in a singlet and shorts.

In the mirrors that lined the wall, Mike saw Ben see him, then Ben bolted for the dojo door, crashing through without ceremony. Mike darted after him, dodging a soaking wet fat guy with glasses as he staggered to his feet from a rowing machine.

The doors to the dojo burst open in front of him and he found himself in a fully floor-matted room with various pieces of apparatus dotted along the walls. Ben sprang from behind the door throwing a series of jabs at Mike’s face.

Mike caught the first one across his jaw before he dodged back and sideways, blocking the rest as he moved. He whipped off his jacket and tossed it aside, bringing his fists up and assuming a fighting stance.

‘So you wanna party, mate?’ Mike said, watching as Ben ducked and weaved before him. ‘Is that the story?’

‘No story, straight to bed,’ Ben replied, still ducking and weaving like a dancing snake, ‘lights out!’

He came in for a big strike at the jaw but Mike caught it with a forearm and moved it past him, pushing Ben away as he did so.

‘Lights out,’ he scoffed, ‘your switch is broken, young fulla.’

‘Yeah? How about this?’

Ben came in with a jabbing left fist to cover a snap kick to the front, and again Mike caught it with a forearm, sidestepping at the same time so he took the force of the kick on his hip rather than his groin.

‘You’re pretty good,’ Ben acknowledged as he danced back.

‘I know.’ Mike sized him up, moving around him and looking for a weak point. ‘You know the cops are looking for you.’

‘I know. They’ve been to my house.’ He smiled. ‘I wasn’t there.’

‘I know.’ Mike feinted with a left cross and clipped him hard across the jaw with a right cross that rocked the other man back.

Ben hissed with anger and surprise, and darted in rashly. He landed a couple of left jabs to Mike’s torso and went for a right jab to follow, but Mike had anticipated that too. His left came up and swiped the cross down and away, pulling Ben in closer and off balance.

Mike’s big right uppercut came up and smashed into his nose, spraying blood across the floor and snapping Ben’s head up, perfect for the left hook that followed, thumping into Ben’s right ear and knocking him flat to the ground.

The younger man rolled sideways and Mike moved with him, ready to go again. Ben’s leg flicked out and swept Mike’s left leg from under him, dropping him awkwardly to the mat. Mike rolled and came up, straight into a front kick that slammed into his chest and sent him back down.

Ben moved in as Mike rolled sideways again, and a follow up kick caught him in the ribs, hard enough to empty his lungs with a hollow thud. Mike rolled again, and again, managing to dodge a stomp aimed at his head. He reached out and grabbed Ben’s right foot, digging his fingers in and twisting it savagely.

Ben cursed and turned with the move to save his knee, allowing Mike to push him away and scramble to his feet. Both men were flushed and breathing heavily now, and there was no backing down.

Mike edged around, bringing his breathing under control and watching the other man’s eyes. Some fighters watched the hands, but Mike had always worked on the basis that the eyes were the window to the soul. Most fighters broadcast a move through the set of their eyes, and Ben was no exception.

Mike saw the next move coming and had half a second to prepare before it even happened. Ben came at with him with a front snap kick towards the groin followed by a swinging back kick to the head, which would almost take the head off at the shoulders if he’d managed to pull it off.

He got the snap kick out but felt it get blocked low with crossed forearms, stopping the move dead. He tried to pull his leg back but Mike grabbed it, twisted and yanked to pull him off balance, and dumped him flat on his back on the floor.

Ben let out a loud explosion of air, tried to roll sideways, and got half to his knees before he got hit again. A big hook exploded stars in his head, then another came along and let off skyrockets. He shook his head and turned to look for the truck that had just hit him.

Mike hit him again, driving his fist square through the nose and flattening it across Ben’s face.

Ben dropped to the floor again, groaning with pain and blood flowing freely down his face and front. He rolled and tried to get up, breathing heavily, but the fight was gone from him and they both knew it.

‘Now,’ Mike said, standing over him, ‘you and me are going to wait here for the cops, alright? And when they get here, you’re going to tell them all about how you came round and assaulted my mate, aren’t you?’

Ben dribbled blood onto the floor mat and nodded his head weakly. He spat again and moved his jaw gingerly. He turned his head to look up at Mike, his eyes intense with sadness.

‘Why did you guys have to interfere?’ he asked heavily, ‘you’ve ruined everything. You’ve ruined my life.’

Mike sneered at him and made a scoffing sound.

‘Whatever, mate. You caused all this yourself. We got paid to do a job and we did it. Any fallout from that is nobody’s fault but your own.’

They eyed each other for a moment, the tension easing.

‘It’s time for you to grow up,’ Mike continued, ‘if you didn’t want to be with that girl, don’t be with her-simple. But once you start messing round with people’s emotions, you’re asking for trouble.’

A wan smile broke across Ben’s bloodied face.

‘You have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?’ he said.

Mike scoffed at him again as he took his phone out, assuming he was talking himself up.

‘Why don’t you just shut up and wait for the cops.’