He shuffled out of the hospital the next morning to wait for Kat, the burns on his legs and chest smarting more than usual. Maria had popped by for one of her little visits when the nervous, Bambi-eyed nurse had been changing his dressings. After waiting until Bambi had inflicted maximum pain on him, Maria had announced that he was staying at her place until he could manage the drive back to Melbourne. He’d had so many mixed emotions at the idea that he’d just nodded.
He was easing himself onto a bench in the pick-up zone when a boxy van drove slowly past and pulled in a few metres away. A Coast Care sticker on the back bumper. The diesel engine vibrated through the bench. Motionless, pulse racing – he’d lain bleeding in that van.
A young man hopped out of the driver’s side. One of the clenched-jawed blokes he’d seen arguing with Aunty Eileen at Jai’s funeral. A slight hitch to the man’s stride as he noticed Caleb, then he went around to open the passenger door.
Aunty Eileen climbed down from the cabin.
Aunty Eileen with one of his kidnappers. Aunty Eileen, who kept warning him not to pry, who avoided the cops, who was linked to Jai. Whose house was torched.
And Caleb knew. She was the one behind B.
He stood. She was shuffling towards him, leaning on the young bloke’s arm. ‘You look worse every time I see you.’
He could say the same for her. Her skin was a parched yellow, flesh hanging from the bones of her arms.
She seemed to read his mind. ‘Chemo to go with the dialysis. I’m pretty much stuffed.’
‘You’re making B.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, love. Hope you’re feeling better soon.’ She turned towards the hospital.
‘You’re betraying your own people,’ Caleb said. ‘How can you live with yourself?’
She spun back at that, her dark eyes hard. ‘I’m saving them.’
‘You’re selling them drugs!’
‘I’m selling them a future.’ Her chin raised as she spat the words. ‘We’ve had two hundred years of the whitefella pushing brain rot onto us – alcohol, sugar, dope, ice – and I’m putting a stop to it. B’s not addictive, not expensive and not-for-whitefella-profit.’
Her young companion tried to interrupt, but Aunty Eileen shushed him. ‘It’s all gone now – he can’t prove anything.’ She eyed Caleb, some of the fierceness fading from her face. ‘Maria was right about you, you’re a smart man. I hope you’re smart enough to leave us alone. Not much you can do to hurt us now, but you’re an easy target and not everyone’s as patient as me. A lot of people reckon B’s the best thing that’s happened to this town.’
She shrugged. ‘Not illegal. They haven’t made laws for this stuff yet.’
‘Then why hide it?’
But he knew the answer as soon as he asked. Because of Dean Hirst and his ilk. B must have hurt Hirst’s profits badly, and he’d hit back with everything he could: vandalism, fires, murder. And when he’d discovered his own daughter was involved, he’d sent Blondie after her with a shotgun. Easy to imagine what had happened after that. Portia’s realisation that her father was onto her plan, her hurried change of appearance, the trip to Melbourne – not just to get away from her father, but also to get a sample to his rival, William Walker.
Dear William,
The goods as promised. This is C.
C was the new and improved third batch, the label on the envelope ‘the goods’.
‘So you’re letting Billy Walker run things now.’
Aunty Eileen’s mouth twisted. ‘Manage, not run. Whitefella’s working for us now.’
‘He killed Dean Hirst to wipe out the competition. Do you really want to be in bed with someone like that?’
‘That’s none of my business. I haven’t hurt anyone.’
He gestured to his sling. ‘What about this?’
‘Yeah, the young fellas got a bit overeager.’ She patted her companion’s arm. ‘Still, I can’t really blame them – they had to think quick. We reckon we’ve finally managed to get you off to Adelaide for a few days so we can get on with the fit-outs, and there you are, running towards Snake Gully right in the middle of things. Warehouse full of equipment, all our bloody trucks comin’ and goin’.’
‘What fit-outs? I thought the lab was in the shipping container.’
‘We’re expanding, love. You can’t take over the state with a single bloody container. Be a bit harder now we’ve lost our chemist, but Walker reckons he’s got a few people who can handle it.’
The traffic on the usually quiet road; the constant rumble of trucks while he’d lain in the hall: carrying the empty shipping containers in, carting the fully equipped ones out. God, how many of them were there now?
Kat’s Beetle pulled up in a cloud of smoke behind the van. He looked from it to Aunty Eileen’s sagging figure. ‘And now?’ he asked.
‘And now, I hope you’re smart enough to stay out of it. We’ve had to change plans a few times because of you, and people are starting to get annoyed.’ She nodded to the young bloke and they turned for the hospital.
Kat was out of the car and walking towards him, an easy sway to her hips, the hint of a smile in her eyes. The smile faded as she drew closer. ‘Are you OK? You’re looking really pale.’
Tell her now. It wouldn’t get any easier. The bloodshed wouldn’t stop just because Aunty Eileen thought she was doing the right thing. The world didn’t work that way.
‘What’s Aunty Eileen to you?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘She related?’
‘She’s my cousin Tanika’s aunt. Why?’
He pictured the intricate diagram she’d drawn for him all those years ago: blue for friend, green for stranger, red for family. Distant or not, Aunty Eileen would be one of the red lines. And so would most of the threads radiating from her.
There had to be dozens of people involved in the scheme, a network of eager young men and women fighting to control their own lives.
He held chaos in his hands.
A frown was tugging at Kat’s forehead. ‘What’s wrong?’
He gripped her hand, her once broken fingers.