Chapter 45

Harry pulled up outside Jess’s place. Relief flooded through him when he saw the curtain twitch and her face peer out. She met him at the front door wearing just a singlet and underpants.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘No, it was…’

Harry placed his fingertips gently against her lips. ‘No, don’t do that. I’m sorry.’

She looked up at him, then stepped up and kissed him on the lips. He kissed her too, hands on the back of her head, entwined in her hair. Like that, they shuffled into the house. Harry shouldered the front door closed. Jess dragged him to the bedroom.

They kissed again, more deeply this time. He pulled away, took off his shirt and then her singlet. He touched her bare skin, kissed her tattoos, kissing away the pain they represented. Goosebumps rose on her skin.

She tugged at his pants. He eased her down onto the bed. All thoughts of Cardinal, Vessel and everything else were wiped away. And then he was inside her. They writhed against each other, kissed and bit each other, clawed at each other.

His tattoos burned on his skin, like petrol had ignited just under the surface. He cried out, part pain part ecstasy. Squeezed his eyes shut. Below him, Jess mirrored his cries. There was an echo. He opened his eyes. His breath caught. Jess was sheathed in a delicate azure light. Her tattoos burned a deep, electric blue.

She too opened her eyes, and from the expression on her face he could tell that she saw it as well, on him. Then she pulled him down to her, into her, and they kissed. The room spun. Everything that he saw and heard felt doubled up.

In the moment of her release he heard two women crying out, their voices overlapping.

Harry slumped down on top of Jess, whispering in her ear. He didn’t recognise the words. They weren’t his. He slid off her, to the side, the pillow cool against his face.

‘What was that?’ he said.

Jess didn’t answer. Because she knew he knew. Harry drifted, listening to her breathing, and the sound of the wind outside. The pain from the tattoos disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Just the now-familiar ache in his lower back. He thought he was going to drift off to sleep, and then he spoke.

‘I was across the river, at the launch today, staring through the scope at Cardinal,’ he said. ‘Rob was so angry when I didn’t pull the trigger.’

Jess rolled to face him. ‘This morning, I found myself standing by the front door, in a daze. I’d packed a bag. You know, hat, sunscreen, paperback to read on the train, a kitchen knife…Kyla wanted to stab him.’

Harry thought about the back-up plans Rob had set in place. If he hadn’t been able to get a sniper’s rifle, he would have wanted an assault rifle. If he couldn’t get an assault rifle, a pistol or a shottie would have done. If not those, then a knife, just as Kyla had been planning.

Harry ran his hand down her arm. ‘Whatever happens, I’m here for you,’ he said.

Jess snuggled into him. Harry kissed the tattoo on her arm.

***

He thought sleep would come easily, but it didn’t. He lay in bed, watching the gauzy curtains billow slightly in the breeze. His eyes roamed the room. Wedding photos of Jess and her husband sat on top of the dark wooden dresser. Suits and shirts hung in the walk-in wardrobe. On the wall beside the bedroom door hung a framed map of Brisbane, commemorating Expo ’88, with clowns and mime artists and mascots cavorting.

You had it all mapped out, ya silly prick. Except the most important part.

Goosebumps rose on Harry’s arm. He stared at the map, but saw Tim in Afghanistan, checking the map and calling in the coordinates of the massacre.

Right around Brisbane’s western suburbs, we’re moving to protect icons that have been allowed to rot for too long.

Harry saw a map of Christmas Island, surrounded by lines, with areas shaded red. Then the Expo ’88 map came into focus, his eyes settled on the clown, waving at the camera.

It’s not exactly a winning hand.

‘Oh shit,’ Harry whispered. ‘How could I have missed it?’