Chapter 38

Harry lay on the lounge, wide awake, watching and listening as the world came alive around him. Dave and Ellie’s house was a blend of order and chaos. Neatly ironed uniforms hung off the ornate scrollwork between the lounge and dining rooms. Medical textbooks, scraps of paper and mouldy mugs covered the coffee table, which underneath housed Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit and a stack of battered Tom Clancy paperbacks. The only concession to the festive season was a string of Christmas lights, hanging over the TV. Outside, a kookaburra announced the arrival of dawn.

Perfect day for a run. But Harry’s running days were over. He woke with the plan fully formed in his head, as though Rob had been busy, burning the midnight oil, so he could deliver it as a fait accompli when Harry opened his eyes. The borderline panic from the night before was gone, replaced by calm determination.

After returning from the hospital, Dave had put him in the shower and found him some old clothes. Harry considered popping home to get something instead, then realised that might not be such a smart move. They’d do.

He sat up, and pain tore through his body. His bandaged arm throbbed, his fingertips tingling with pins and needles. His thigh muscles screamed. His shoulders cramped. His other arm, and his legs, were covered in bruises, and one ear pulsed sickly.

He picked up his phone and texted Jim, setting the wheels in motion. Then Harry took a deep breath and pulled himself to his feet, relieved to find that he could still walk.

Dave poked his head into the room from the kitchen. ‘Want a coffee, old man?’

‘Fuck off.’

Dave laughed, turned and carried two mugs out the back door onto the verandah. Multicoloured prayer flags fluttered in the warm breeze. Harry followed Dave outside.

Dave had cleared away enough beer bottles for the coffee cups.

‘Good to see married life hasn’t slowed you and Ellie down,’ Harry said.

‘I hardly think you’re in any position to offer lifestyle advice.’

‘Touché.’

Harry sipped his coffee. Wished he had his sunglasses. He checked his phone.

‘So let me get this straight, because it was a bit much to take in last night,’ Dave said. ‘You told Vessel about the story you’re working on. And then you got attacked by two Dreadnorts.’

Harry nodded. ‘Not just Dreadnorts. The same guys who used to do Cardinal’s dirty work.’

‘So either Vessel is in on it…’

‘…or he told Cardinal, and Cardinal set them on me.’

Dave sipped his coffee. ‘Either way, it’s not pretty.’

‘No.’

‘You should call the cops,’ Dave said.

Harry shook his head.

‘Why not? You were attacked last night. You know who these guys are.’

‘I beat the shit out of them, Dave.’

‘It was self-defence!’

Harry nodded. He couldn’t tell Dave what he was thinking. He was thinking about Afsoon, talking about blood. He was thinking about what Rob wanted to do to those guys, and the repercussions of Harry not following through.

‘Once the cops come in, it’s going to get complicated, Dave. They’re going to want to know the full story.’

‘So tell them the full story!’

Harry shook his head again. ‘The election is a week away. The cops are going to want to confiscate my computer, they’re going to want me to hold back on the story…’

‘Harry! This is your life! You can’t fuck around!’

Harry didn’t care about his life. He was thinking of someone else’s life. Andrew Cardinal. The Cardinal juggernaut. This wasn’t going to end until he stopped Cardinal. He and Jess wouldn’t be safe until Cardinal was gone.

‘Dave, listen to me. If Cardinal is elected, he’ll have all kinds of power. The evidence I have, it won’t stand up in a court of law. It’s hearsay, mostly. Without the documents, all I’ve got is what a couple of people have told me, and what’s up here,’ he said, tapping the side of his head.

Dave looked as though he were about to push it further, then sighed. ‘There’s got to be a better way.’

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their coffee. Harry would have liked nothing better than for all of this to go away. For him to be able to hand it over to the cops. But that wasn’t going to work. Deep down, he knew that.

‘At least let me take a look at your injuries,’ Dave said.

Without waiting for a response he moved around the table, unclipped the fastener and wound the crepe bandage from Harry’s hand and arm. The bandage was spotted with blood. He pulled it away, then gently removed the gauze pads. Down the road, someone fired up their lawn mower.

‘Hang on a sec.’

When Dave disappeared inside, Harry checked his phone again. Dave returned with fresh gauze pads and smeared some antiseptic on the wounds. Harry sucked in breath.

‘Don’t be a baby,’ Dave said.

He pressed the pads on top, then set to bandaging Harry’s arm. When he was done, Harry flexed his hand. He could feel the cuts pulsing.

‘Can’t you just publish the story, see what happens?’ Dave said.

‘No. Been there, done that. I’m not going to press until it’s watertight.’

Harry thought he sold the lie. There would be no story. Not from him anyway. And yet soon everyone would know his name. But Dave looked at him, and didn’t look away until Harry stared down at the ground.

‘Harry. I don’t know what you’re planning to do. But whatever it is – don’t.’

Dave got up and went into the house. Harry texted Jim again, finished his coffee and followed Dave inside.

***

Harry sat on the old bench in the park. Above him, the jacaranda tree rustled in the breeze. At the end of the road he watched a 747 climbing in the sky. He felt totally calm. He didn’t know what it was like to be Rob, but he thought this was part of it. Understanding he was in danger, understanding he had to do dangerous things. Coming to terms with that and being at peace.

He smelt Jim’s tobacco before he saw him. Harry twisted in his seat – wincing as the pain spiked up his back – and watched the former soldier shuffle down the steep slope from the road above.

‘G’day,’ Jim said.

‘Hi.’

Jim sat down. ‘No notepad today?’

‘I think it’s gone beyond notepads.’

Jim nodded, as though he knew it would come to this.

‘I need a gun. Preferably a sniper rifle. And I need it today.’

‘What! Harry…’

Harry didn’t have time for a debate. He pulled off his shirt. Jim gasped. The colour drained out of his face. He started out of his seat but Harry grabbed his arm, dragged him back down.

‘Look at me,’ Harry said. He let Rob come forward.

Jim slumped in the seat, stunned. ‘What the fuck?’ he whispered.

‘Rob’s inside me. His spirit.’

‘Bullshit.’

The plane climbed through the cerulean sky. A part of Harry wished he was on it. He cleared his throat. Wished he’d brought his water bottle with him.

‘Whether you believe that bit or not, I’ve uncovered a lot,’ Harry said. ‘I’ve uncovered a drug-running operation. It’s linked to a prominent developer – Brian Swenson. You’ve probably heard of him.’

‘Heard of him? You can’t drive fifty metres without seeing one of his construction sites!’

‘Right. There’s more. Dreadnorts MC are involved.’ Harry gestured to the bruises on his face. ‘I had a little run-in with them last night.’

‘Shit, mate. You’re lucky to be alive. But a sniper rifle’s not…’

‘There’s more. Andrew Cardinal.’

Jim looked over at Harry. ‘What about him?’

He felt a spring tensioning inside him. Like the hammer being pulled back on a pistol.

‘You know he served in Afghanistan?’

‘Yeah. Of course.’

‘He was using his intel to run a drug-smuggling operation. He was involved in a massacre in Helmand province. And when he decided to go into politics, he tried to sever all links to that massacre.

‘Rob. Kyla. Tim Daniels. John Birmingham. Geoff Lane. Ahmed. A local tattooist, Rabs.’

‘Holy shit.’

Jim stared straight ahead, putting the pieces together in his mind. He nodded. ‘Cardinal. Fuck me.’

‘I was hoping to write a story on it, uncover Cardinal that way. But I’ve run out of time,’ Harry said. ‘And Cardinal can’t be allowed to become prime minister. He’ll have so much power that I won’t be able to touch him.

‘I need a gun. A fucking big one.’

Jim looked at Harry. Pulled out his phone and dialled. ‘G’day, mate. It’s Jim…’

Harry could hear a big voice on the other end of the line. Jim laughed. ‘Fair ta middlin’. Hey, remember that product you got your hands on? The one you can’t shift?’ More mumbling. ‘I’ve got a fella who’s lookin’ to buy. ASAP.’

Jim laughed again. ‘Yeah, no worries ya fat bastard. Catch ya.’

He put his phone away. ‘Done.’

‘Can you do something else for me?’

Jim scratched his head. ‘I don’t do windows or foot rubs. If it’s not one of those, try me.’

‘I’m going to email you my story. What I’ve got of it. All my contacts. Everything. If…if anything happens to me, I want you to get it out there. I don’t know how. But I need to know that the information doesn’t die with me.’

‘Sure.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No worries. Just go get the bastard.’