Challis - 05 - Blood Moon (39 page)

Youd make a terrific head of any
new unit, he said.

Tell McQuarrie I want sex crimes.

Okay.

They stared at each other and he
reached up and pulled her down to him. She struggled away and said, Im not
finished.

He knew she wasnt. He searched for
the words: Your.. .problem.

She flushed. Outside the ducks and
the lone ibis honked a warning and flapped crazily into the air. This was the
time when the foxes began to prowl.

I promise Ill get help.

Ells, its no big deal. Its not
the end of the world. Im not judging you. Its just a darkish little current
running through you. It doesnt stop you being a good cop.

Yeah? How can you understand about
living together and everything else and not understand how affected I am about
this?
Im going to get counselling

Fair enough.

Until I do, Ellen said, I wont
feel right about anything, about having my own place and heading a new unit.

Challis saw her inward look, her
fierce concentration, as she seemed to run through her mental checklist. Then,
apparently satisfied, she slid down. Slithered beside him, long, warm, elastic,
everything humming with potential.

Then she propped herself on one
elbow and reached across to the bedside radio, accidentally biffing him on the
jaw. Sorry.

They both wanted to hear the 7 p.m.
news. According to an earlier bulletin, a Waterloo police constable had been
found passed out at the base of a flagpole in the grounds of a primary school,
naked. Ellen had called the duty sergeant, who gave her the name of the
constable and a couple of details that hadnt made it over the airwaves.
Apparently Andy Crees dick had been glued to the mouth of a blow-up doll. The
doll was faintly suggestive of a schoolgirl; put that together with the
location, and you had a whiff of paedophilia.

Now the 7 p.m. bulletin was saying
that certain items had been removed from Crees flat.

Porn? guessed Challis.

Probably.

Was he set up?

Probably.

But deserved?

Probably, Ellen said.

She switched the radio off and
nuzzled him. He responded. His on-switch was faster than any radios.

Afterwards, they lay there. Suddenly
Challis said, Im starving, and swung off the bed. And there was enough
illumination left in the sky, and he passed close enough to the window on his
way out of the room, for the rifleman on the slope outside to take a pretty
accurate shot at him.

* * * *

56

Dirk
Roe, with a nice amphetamine and vodka buzz on, fired another shot. That
Challis cunt had vanished but his woman was right there, also fucking naked.
Dirk felt an old, desperate yearning to see her like that: dirty thoughts,
you
naughty, naughty boy,
his mother slapping him for peeping on her in the
bath, his father thrashing him later with a broom handle. So many thrashings:
broom handle, belt, whatever came to hand. He sobbed and swallowed and fired
off a couple of wild shots to make himself feel better, the rifle recoiling
hard, comforting smacks against his shoulder.

Dirk was pretty sure hed been born
out of time and place. He belonged to an earlier era, would have been a
bushranger maybe. Protecting his familys honour, avenging dishonour. Crouching
in the tricky shadows, he levered another cartridge into the chamber, sighted
on the shattered window and realised,
shit,
hed been shooting not at
the people whod fucked him over but their reflections in a mirror.

But did he panic? Did he, fuck. Dirk
slithered from shadow to shadow to get a better slant on the room, to where a
mirror couldnt fool him.

Nothing. Theyd hit the floor, the
cunts. Dirk giggled. See how
you
like it, scared, knowing that bad
things were coming, no one to help you.
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look
upon a little child,
whispered Dirk, biting the inside of his mouth. His
mother and his father, looking down from heaven and finding fault. Dirk
snivelled a little bit.

A society gets the police force it
deserves, he mutteredthen yelled it for good measure, so those cunts in
there, pissing themselves under the bed, could hear him. You had Drug Squad
detectives dealing drugs, assistant commissioners interfering in corruption
investigations to protect their mates, whole stations moving stolen goods,
sacked officers corrupting serving officers, women motorists forced to give
blowjobs so they wouldnt lose their licence...

So youd expect cops like that to
leak to the media. Now his name was blackened, his brothers name was
blackened. Dirk thought of Lachlan in the hospital, his bloodless skin, the
bandages...

Someone has to pay! shrieked Dirk
and he fired another shot.

Then the bedroom door moved and he
sensed one shadow, and another, slip through the gap. He grinned. He felt very
alive. It wasnt such a big house, and the garden wasnt so full of obstacles,
that he couldnt cover all of the exits.

He ran in a half crouch to the other
side of the house, holding the rifle across his chest. In an earlier era a
wronged man made his own justice. People respected that. No red tape, no
tangling web of bureaucratic crap.

Hindmarsh calling him a moron. Dirk
had run the Roe Report in his
own
time, right? Plus, the Report had
actively
promoted
the guy, so a bit of gratitude, please. Racist?
Sexist?
Realistic.
Telling it like it is.

Im not a moron!
shrieked Dirk. His mothers frown,
just like his fathers sneer.

Im not stupid! Im not! Dirk
said, tears mingling with the snot on his face.

He made another circuit of the
house. He fired the last round, replaced the clip with a fresh one. Good old
DadNo governments going to interfere with my right to defend myselfthe
rifle never registered, never declared, never relinquished during the amnesty.
His father had been born out of time, too. Fire and brimstone. Purity of thought
and action.
Thou shalt not release thy seed unless for procreation,
the
words measured out with his belt.

You bastard! he yelled at the
house. You ruined me!

Then, carrying through the still night
air, one of those nights when the whole world is breathless, expectant and
sweet smelling, Dirk heard a distant siren. Otherwise everything was reduced to
this little patch of fear and retribution under the moonlight. Dirk, tall and
true, ready to diebut not before hed avenged Lachlan, and not before hed
avenged himself.

Another part of him was asking: if I
get out of this, what the fuck am I going to do for a job? Whod hire me?

Change his name? Move interstate,
maybe overseas? That would work. Go somewhere he wouldnt be hampered by rules
and regulations. But where? Nowhere left on the planet for a man of his
outlook, talent and inclinations.

A mercenary.

French foreign legion.

Born out of time, Dirk was. He ran
around the house again, doubled over, rifle at the ready...

And jumped in fright: the sliding
glass door to the deck at the rear of the house was open.

The gap dark and gaping like a cruel
mouth.

Dirk trembled.
Cry baby,
his
father would shout.
Bloody great calf of a boy. Snivelling little wretch.
The
belt buckle biting. Blelt bluckle bliting...bellbluttle...

Something narrow, hard and coldly
metallic pressed against the hinge of his jaw, and the cop behind him murmured,
Put it down or Ill blow your head off

Dirks insides curled up. He badly
wanted to piss. A mosquito whined around his ear, and he realised his bare
forearms were itchy from brushing against some bush, and there was a spider web
in his hair. He hated spiders and insects. He dropped the rifle and windmilled
his arms around his head, convinced that creepy-crawlies were marching up his
body, stirring the fine hairs on his arms and legs.
You great sook,
his
mother said.

Dirk!
shouted the cop.
Pay attention!

And the guy actually slapped him. Pay.
Attention.

Shocked, astonished, Dirk said, You
hit me.

Dirk, look at me.
Look at me.

Dirk looked. The inspector had the
rifle now, a fireplace poker in his other hand. Dirk looked around wildly. Wheres
your gun?

What gun?

The gun you stuck in my jaw.

For Christs sake, Dirk, the cop
said wearily, this isnt television. I dont own a gun.

The woman was in the shadows,
wearing a T-shirt now, tousled, beautiful. Calmly watching.

Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, cried
Dirk, over and over again.