Epilogue

Harry sat on his front step, watching the restoration crew work on the water tower. Despite Cardinal’s motives for wanting to protect the tower, new Labor leader and Prime Minister Carol Lawler decided to stand behind his decision, saying that it would stand as a monument to Cardinal’s victims and as a reminder of the need for eternal vigilance in the battle against corruption. That was the way Labor was spinning it, anyway.

Jess came out with two cups of tea, handed one to Harry and eased down next to him. His mending skin stretched tight as he reached for the cup. Lightning flowers, the doctor called them. She said they’d fade over time, as would the headaches and the ringing in his ears. She seemed perplexed by the fact that the burns seemed more pronounced in some places than others, and didn’t always follow the path the electricity took through his body, as Lichtenberg figures usually did.

‘Lightning is strange,’ the doctor had concluded, shrugging. ‘You’re lucky to be alive.’

That suited Harry and Jess just fine. Neither of them wanted to explain the tattoos that had mysteriously appeared and then been torn off their bodies. The only tattoo that survived was the one on his neck. He wasn’t surprised to see Jess’s was still there, too.

‘Do you think this government will survive?’ Jess asked, sipping her tea.

‘I don’t know. The Opposition is baying for blood,’ he said.

When Harry woke up in hospital, head throbbing and body on fire, the last thing he could remember was placing his sights on the back of Andrew Cardinal’s head. For a few terrifying moments he thought he’d gone through with it. Short-term memory loss was another symptom of lightning strike, the doctor said. But slowly it came back to him: cracking the code, Dave’s kidnap, finding the documents, and the life-and-death struggle on the top of the tower.

As soon as he was out of ICU, Christine was there, with her laptop and the metallic-green fire-proof document case, much to the chagrin of his doctor. The nurses shooed her away but as soon as they were gone, she was back. Tenacious didn’t even begin to cover it. Harry read through the notes he’d written up, but it was like something a stranger had written. Rob’s memories were gone. Harry didn’t believe a word he’d written until he started sifting through the documents in the case.

Transcripts of conversations – Kyla and Rob talking to various military officials, and to Terry Redwood. Military intel documents, signed by Cardinal and his superiors. Photos taken in Afghanistan. Police reports detailing the various sins of Crow and Heathy after they left the army and joined the Dreadnorts. Surveillance photos of key players. Cardinal had been careful, had kept his distance, but Rob still managed to get a photo of him and Heathy and Crow, laughing and sharing a beer together. And there, at the bottom of the case, an old piece of cloth. The bloodstains on the hijab were almost black now.

While in hospital Harry and Jess had been under police protection. It meant they had the room to themselves, and the press were kept at bay. The journalists knew part of the story – they’d seen the skating rink confessions on YouTube; they’d heard the audio from the top of the water tower. All of that had been enough to land Vessel and Crow in jail. Cardinal and Heathy would have to answer to a higher power.

But no-one knew the full story. So Harry wrote, or he dictated and Christine wrote. Dave dropped by with coffee, limping slightly but still giving Harry sass for taking so long to finish the bloody thing and for landing him in the doghouse with Ellie. And when it was done and checked and legalled, Miles ran the story in the Chermside Chronicle. Harry was offered a lot of money to publish the story elsewhere, but he turned down all the offers. They’d all get their claws into it as soon as it hit the streets, but he wanted Miles to have a rare taste of glory.

The former government howled for a new election, arguing that a party led by a psychopath and a man willing to keep his mouth shut for a taste of power wasn’t fit to rule. New prime minister Carol Lawler and her party clung on for all they were worth, and the spin doctors pointed out that Labor had won in a huge landslide, with the Coalition ousted all the way from Perth to Brisbane. You elect a party, not a prime minister, they said.

Sitting on the front step, Jess leant against Harry. ‘You going to stay here?’

He nodded. While they were in hospital the police had come to Harry’s house, dug up Rob’s body, and forensics had had their way with the place. Rob and Kyla had been given a proper burial.

‘Yeah. It’s peaceful…now.’

He’d had visits in the hospital, from Dave, Christine, Sandy and Fred. They brought cards, chocolates, flowers. Sandy the psychic gave him a big hug, like Harry was her long-lost son. All of them wanted to give him updates about the latest developments in the story. Ron Vessel charged with accessory to murder, and a bunch of other stuff. Brian Swenson’s arrest and subsequent fatal heart attack. Terry Redwood brought in to answer allegations of perverting the course of justice.

Harry didn’t want to hear it. He knew everything was back in balance. He could feel it. He had no interest in writing a follow-up. There was no follow-up. This was the end.

A week after he arrived home, Christine told him the Brisbane Mail had offered her a job. He told her to hold out for something better. Then he switched his phone off, sick of journalists – mostly people he’d gone to uni with – calling him for ‘the story behind the story’. He was scared to think how many messages would be waiting for him next time he switched it on.

‘Darren phoned me,’ Jess said. ‘He wants to meet me. He wants to talk.’

Harry watched the workers on top of the tower. He was expecting it. Maybe that’s why he didn’t feel sad.

‘How do you feel?’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘I think you know.’

Harry nodded. He’d had a message from Bec before he turned his phone off. She said she wanted to talk to him. Wanted to see him again, even if just as friends. He hadn’t responded yet.

‘I think I need to talk to him,’ Jess said.

‘Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.’

‘I…I don’t regret it. Any of it. But…’

Harry looked at her. She was beautiful. Strong and smart and beautiful. But there was no connection, now that Rob and Kyla were gone.

‘I know,’ he said. He leant forward, kissed her on the lips.

They finished their tea in silence. Jess touched Harry’s shoulder, got up and went inside.

Harry stretched his legs out, leant back, and enjoyed the sunshine.