Hailstone (12 page)

“Gosh, these are lovely beans, Mrs Georgiou,” she said, piling a heap of them on Zack’s plate.

Preacher said grace and then dominated the conversation at the table, as always. She didn’t really listen, as always. She watched Joseph instead. Something was different about him. The whole acting like a Congregation zombie, of course, was a no-brainer. But there was something else she just couldn’t put her finger on. His black eye had faded some. There were no new bruises she could spot. She’d try to talk to him later.

When their plates were finally clean, Magda cleared them away. “Preacher, do you mind if I just lie down in the lounge for a few minutes? I’m so tired, it’s been a long day.”

“Of course, Magdalene. It’s understandable. Take the opportunity to spend time in prayer,” he said.

“Yes Preacher.” She took two piles of plates, headed for the kitchen and dumped them in the sink. Then she returned down the hall and listened at the dining room door for a moment. The conversation was calm and muted. Nobody was about to get up and go check on her.

Magda went quietly back down the hall. She closed the lounge room door. Then she went into Preacher’s office.

This was a room she’d ventured into only rarely as a child. It always smelled of wax and paper. Once, she’d liked the smell. Over the years, she’d learned to hate it.

She closed the door behind her, turned the light on and looked around. John’s laptop wasn’t immediately visible. She went to the desk first. Most of the paper on there was covered in handwritten sermons. That was no good to her. She opened the drawers and went through the contents. She snickered at the bottle of holy water. One day she’d sneak in here and replace it with Vodka. Nothing else of interest; just keys, diaries, pens. She slipped a USB stick into her pocket, just in case it proved interesting.

She went to the filing cabinet next and flipped through an alphabetical index of
Congregation members. Interesting. Most just had names, ages and addresses, but there were dossiers in one or two of what people owned.

The next drawer was even more interesting. Magda sifted through a pile of title deeds, each one belonging to Preacher. He owned more property around Hailstone than she had thought. She slipped one or two under her shirt at random. The deed on the bottom of the pile had an attachment; she flipped it open. Her jaw dropped. The attachment was a lease, signed over to business name Hells Bells Vodka. Underneath it, an insurance document for the building worth three million dollars. She stuffed that one in her shirt too. Good thing she’d changed into a bulky button up thing before coming over.

She kept looking. More insurance policies, more real estate. Jesus, Preacher owned half the city.

The next drawer down contained the laptop. Magda lifted it aside. Underneath, she found a slim file simply named “Christian Outreach.” She withdrew the contents and tucked them into her waistband. Then she replaced the laptop, closed all the drawers, turned out the light and slipped into the lounge room. She adjusted the stolen papers until they lay flat and lay down on the couch. Her heart pounded. If she was discovered with all of Preacher’s guilty secrets, anything could happen.

Zack opened the door minutes later. “Time to go home, Magdalene,” he said. “Everyone else has left.”

Thank God for that. She couldn’t have stood running the gauntlet of congratulations again.

Magda swung her feet down and rubbed her eyes as though she’d been sleeping. “Okay,” she said.

She followed Zack down the hall. She wondered if he could hear her heart rate. Or if maybe her blood pressure was up again and she should go see that doctor.

Preacher met them at the front door. “Goodnight Zachary, Magdalene.” He kissed her on the cheek. His lips were like dry, wrinkly paper.

She smiled. “Goodnight Preacher.”

They walked out into the night. Zack slipped his hand into hers. Magda made a face at him in the darkness, but let him hold her hand.

“I don’t know what to make of you,” he said.

“I know exactly what you mean.” Magda looked up at the sky; it was cloudy. No stars tonight. No moon. Good. They walked across the verge and down the driveway.

Zack unlocked the door. Just inside, he took both her hands. For one terrifying moment Magda thought he was going to hug her and feel all the paper rustling. “Magdalene I know it’s not easy to have your husband chosen for you, but I want to make this work,” he said. “I want to make you happy.”

Magda smiled at him. “I’m not an easy person to love, Zachary,” she said. “But you’ll see I can be just the woman to give you what you need.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. That wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t allowed to kiss her until they were married, but then, Preacher had already broken all his own rules by installing him in her house. She leane
d back. “Not before the wedding.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let me make you some chamomile tea. Perhaps we can really talk. Get to know each other.” Magda patted him on the cheek and headed into the kitchen. She went to the pantry. Smiled. Her bottle of rosewater was still full; she knew he hadn’t found all of her stash, and she’d refilled that one carefully. She took it down, boiled the kettle and poured them both a measure in their chamomile tea.

Zack sat across from her at the kitchen table, just as John had, and sipped his tea. “This tastes odd.”

“It’s probably the kettle. I need a new one,” she said.

“We’ll get that sorted this week
.”

“You’re such a good man, Zack. Gosh, you even fixed the kitchen window.”

“And how did that break?”

“Satan made me throw a bottle of Vodka at it.” She leaned on her hands and smiled. “I’m so glad that’s all over now.”

Zack’s eyes looked heavy. “It’s a new start,” he said.

“Are you tired?”

He nodded. “Very tired.”

“You go off to bed. I’ll clean up out here.”

A flicker of suspicion crossed his face.

“And then I’ll turn in myself.” She yawned.

“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning.” He wandered off to bed, a little unsteady on his feet.

Magda washed the cups. Then she went and listened at the door to what had been John’s room. Zack snored. She locked the door from the outside.

She found her bag. Of course the cigarettes and pills were gone, but they were replaceable. She still had money in there. She flipped open her phone and dialled Adam’s number.

“Mags darling!” he hissed down the line, almost before the first ring. “Are you okay? I’ve got Kat with me, she’s terribly upset, she said you got kidnapped right in front of her and the police wouldn’t so much as lift a finger!”

“I’m fine,” Magda said. “Adam, come and pick me up from the corner. I’ve got something to show both of you.”

*

It was only ten o’clock. Magda put on a coat and hood and let herself out of the house as quietly as possible. The papers were safely in a folder in a shoulder bag. She’d packed a few other necessities so she didn’t need to come back for a while. She breathed in the night air; it was cold, but spicy, as though something exciting out there was waiting for her.

She hurried down to the corner
, stuck to the shadows in the neighbours’ gardens and avoided the path. She didn’t even look at the church.

She only had to wait a few minutes before Kat’s car pulled over at the
curb. Magda got in the back and closed the door. “Go,” she whispered, nervous, even though the street was empty.

Kat turned in a tight circle and headed back to the highway. “Hi,” she said. Her voice was tight. “What the hell?”

“Welcome to my life.”

Adam twisted around. “So what happened?”

Magda shrugged. “I faked repentance. Preacher bought it.”

“And they just let you out?”

Magda grinned at him. “Preacher has assigned me a jailer. A stupid one. I fed him tea laced with vodka. He went to bed early. I might have accidentally locked him in his room.”

Adam doubled over with laughter. “Honestly Mags, you’re too much. Kat, forget journalism, write a sitcom on her!”

Kat turned off the highway, coasted down a residential road and pulled into Adam’s house. Magda had been there once before; it was a two story affair, not exactly opulent, but it definitely stood out in a city of 1950s-era three bedroom asbestos houses. They got out of the car and headed inside. She wondered if Kat was mad at her. She’d barely spoken.

They went through a big, light hall and upstairs, where Adam had a bar overlooking three purple leather sofas. A wall-length glass window looked out onto the night sky. “Make yourselves comfortable, ladies,” he said. “You know, I’m entertaining far too many women lately. What are you drinking?”

“Water,” Kat said.

“Boring.” Adam poured water into a glass. “Mags? Shall I mix you a cocktail?”

“I would love you to mix me a cocktail.” Magda gave him a big grin. Then she went and sat across from Kat. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?” Kat unpinned her hair and let it fall across her shoulders
in a long dark tangle. The effect was startling. Magda thought if she’d had a crush before, now she was completely in love. “I’m just tired,” Kat continued. “I have work in the morning. I’ve been stressing about you all afternoon after being assaulted by someone you said was a friend. I’m not entirely sure what kind of weird cult I’m messing with anymore. That’s all. No reason to be mad.”

“I’m sorry.” Magda reached out and touched her hand. “I appreciate everything you’ve done. I really do. Getting out of this church is no easy thing, but I think I see a way. I have your evidence.”

“You do?” Kat sat up straight. Magda could see she was tired, but professional curiosity was stronger.

Magda put the folder on the table; Adam joined them. “I stole these from Preacher’s study tonight,” she said. “I think he’s into something big, but I just don’t know what it is.” She pulled out the title deeds first. “These two are just samples. He has properties all over Hailstone. This one, however, might interest you, Adam.” She slid over the third document. “Did you know Preacher owns the land the Hells Bells Vodka factory is built on?”

Adam’s breath hissed out between his teeth.
“That explains a lot,” he said. He studied the deed. “I leased the building through a third party that deals with private property interests. They could buy and sell it ten times and I’d never know. Look here, this is dated just eighteen months ago.” He turned a page and scanned the lease. Then the insurance policy. His eyes widened. “That’s a lot of insurance.” He handed the document to Kat.

“Adam, don’t you have your own insurance?” Kat asked.

“Of course darling. The factory’s insured for squillions. But I’m also told the land is prime real estate.”

“Preacher also had files on everyone in the church,” Magda said. “Mostly just contact details, but also some stuff on what they owned. And then I found this one. I haven’t even looked at it yet.” She slid over the outreach folder.

Kat opened it. “We know what he owns all the properties for. Look at this, he’s setting up outreach centres all over the city.” She pushed the top page over.

Magda scanned it, and the next pages that came her way. Preacher was thorough.
He’d listed everything that needed to be done to each building. The properties had names of Congregation people listed under them as counsellors. Each centre even had a specific problem to treat. She pushed the paper to Adam after reading about the centre that was supposed to treat homosexuality. She didn’t want to look at them anymore.

“Outreach manual,” Kat murmured. She opened a thin booklet and leafed through it. “This is written by a John McAllister, Mag
s, is that your ex-husband?”

“Yes.” Magda looked at the booklet as though it might be a snake. “What does it say?”

“It says the counselling will be effective on anybody...gives instructions for making sure as many people enlist as possible, advice for convincing parents to enlist their teenagers...” Kat flipped through to the back page. “We suggest males in their late teens and early twenties be enlisted to ensure dissenting groups are kept silent. Jesus Christ, what’s your father planning, a hostile takeover?”

Magda took a sip of her drink to give herself a minute to think. “Dissenting groups? Such as?”

“Such as us and everybody else who attended the pro alcohol protests, darling,” Adam said. “Anybody who’s not in the Congregation. And when he’s finished with us, he’ll start on his own. That’s how these fascists work.” He threw down the paperwork. “Lucky me, I’m the first public enemy number one. Asshole.”

“When do you suppose he’s going to start all this?” Kat asked.

Magda shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if we get this stuff into the news we can stop him before he tries.”

Monday

Magda stretched. She opened her eyes just enough to let the light in; her lips curved. All she could see, from there on the couch, was a pretty blue sky with no clouds at all. Today would be better than yesterday. She could tell, just from the fact she’d woken up on Adam’s couch and not in her own bed.

She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. “Hey sexy,” she said. “You look corporate.”

Kat gave her a look. She stood in front of a full-length mirror decorated at one corner with Marlon Brando’s face and twisted her hair into a knot. She’d found fresh clothes somewhere, a dark green fitted jacket and skirt. “I have to go to work,” she said. “You’d best come with me. The paper’s out today, but I think we can get your story out on the internet. Maybe we can get outside help before Hailstone fills up with zombies.”

“Okay.” Magda tipped out her bag on the couch and found a comb for her hair. She joined Kat by the mirror with the comb and a lipstick. “Do you fight zombies often?”

“No, but I do try to practice on people who don’t respect my deadlines.” Kat grinned and walked away to gather up the papers still scattered over the coffee table. “Adam will probably sleep till midday.”

Magda tensed when her phone rang. She returned to the couch and looked at the screen. “It’s Preacher,” she said.

“Answer it.”

“I’d really rather not.”

The monotonous ring tone stretched out between them.

“Put it on speakerphone,” Kat said. She took a thin device from her pocket. “I use this to record interviews. I want you to talk to him. Confront him with what you know. See if you can get him to tell you what he plans. It can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Right.” Magda took a deep breath and steeled herself. The space behind her left eye throbbed. She flipped open the phone, put it on speaker and set it down next to Kat’s recording device. “Hello.”

“Magdalene where are you?” Preacher sounded like he’d been tearing apart Hailstone looking for her already.

“I’m with friends.”

“You lied to me. You put on a mantle of Godliness and dared to speak my name and call me
Father.”

“Y
ou are my father, though God knows I wish right now you weren’t. What did you expect me to do, just walk into your fist?”

There was a brief silence. “Sometimes I think you are completely lost to Satan. Only the evil one could put such words into your mouth.”

“Oh, so you deny being an abusive son of a bitch? Or is it just that we’re not allowed to call a spade a spade?” Magda glanced at Kat, who mouthed something along the lines of
stay calm
and took a seat across from the phone. She took out a notebook and waited, pen poised.

“This is the kind of behaviour that comes from spending time with sodomites and heathens,” Preacher said. His voice remained steady. Magda could almost see him standing there in his living room, clutching his bible in one hand and the phone in the other.

She raised her eyebrows at Kat.

“I take your silence for guilt,” Preacher said. “I know what you do. You’ve been seen with Adam Seymour-” he spat the same down the line “-and that reporter. Don’t think I don’t know the influence they hold. She wore a Satanic symbol when she interviewed me for that trash newspaper. I didn’t miss it. But it’s Seymour who’s changed you. He’s led you astray.”

Kat looked at her om symbol and made a face at Magda. Magda stifled a giggle. “Preacher you credit me with nothing. I realised all on my own that I believed in neither God nor the Devil. That’s why I’ve left the church. And you. And Zack. I’m not coming back, except to get my things. You can’t stop me.”

“Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you
.”

“Is that a threat?” Magda followed Kat’s example and sat nearer the phone.

“It’s a promise, child, if you are even in there anymore. I will always come to get you. I will spend my whole life dragging you out of Satan’s grasp, if that’s what it takes to save your immortal soul.”

Magda rolled her eyes at Kat. “But Preacher, as I understand it, won’t you be a little too busy for that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all the outreach centres. All over Hailstone. Aren’t they going to be keeping you busy for the next few weeks? Years, even?”

“What do you know of this?”

Magda watched Kat, partly for strength to go head to head with Preacher, partly because her top button was undone and the way her lip curved was pretty.

“Magdalene?”

“Oh, sorry Preacher, I got distracted.” Magda grinned at Kat, who blushed slightly. “I know you have real estate all over Hailstone. I know you’re planning to open up outreach centres everywhere. Aren’t you going to be too busy converting everybody
else to worry about little old me?”

“You come first.”

“What, are you planning to put me in one of those places? What will you do if it drives me to suicide, like it did Jonah Sand?”

“That won’t happen!” Preacher’s voice rose. She’d touched a sore spot.

“How can you be sure? You’re using John’s methods, aren’t you?”

“The methods were given to us by God. They are perfect. It was their use by an imperfect man that caused the problems.”

Magda faked a silent gag at Kat, who smothered a laugh. “Are you perfect, Preacher?” she said.

“I am guided by the hand of the most high. So are the people I have handpicked to run the centres.”

“And is it your plan to convert the whole city, Preacher?” Magda leaned toward the phone.

“Why are you suddenly so interested?”

“Because I’m concerned there’s going to be a repeat of what happened in Gibson. What are you going to do when people realise your plans? What will you do when the protestors picket your centres?”

Preacher’s voice went cold. “They will be dealt with. And so will you. I know what you’re trying to do, Satan. You would use my daughter to undermine me. You know I am your greatest enemy in the fight against God. Your only hope is to tell me where you are and give up my daughter.”

Kat moved across to the couch and flipped the phone shut. “Christ, how do you stand it?”

“I don’t.” Magda stuffed the phone and everything else back into her bag. “Why do you think I’m so god damn screwed up with valium and alcohol?”

“It does explain a few things. Come on, let’s go. No, wait a minute.” Kat went over to the coat rack and chose a brimmed hat and long black scarf. “I can’t take you out on the street looking like yourself,” she said. She wrapped the scarf around Magda’s head and jammed the hat on top. “There, now you look like a movie star doing a terrible job of going incognito. Put your sunglasses on.”

Magda dug the sunglasses out of her bag and put them on. She looked at herself in the mirror and found nothing to smile about, even though she looked ridiculous. “One day I won’t have to hide,” she said.

*

The drive to Kat’s office was quiet. Magda leaned her forehead on the window and watched the streets go by. It wasn’t far from Adam’s house to the city centre; just a few suburban streets. She counted the two storey houses, and as they came to the inner city, the flats and flashy apartment blocks. The streets were quiet for a Monday morning.

Kat pulled into the car park in front of the Hailstone Herald office building, a small, white establishment with a huge sign bearing the masthead of the paper.

Both women got out of the car and stayed for a moment in the car park. Shards of glass crunched under Magda’s shoes. She stepped tentatively over them.

Kat wasn’t so careful. She bolted for the door and unlocked it, even though they could have simply walked through the gaping hole in the window.

“Kat be careful,” Magda said. She dug her nails into her palms, wondering if they’d be waiting in there for her. Her whole head throbbed for the first time since she’d walked out of her house last night.

“Careful? Whoever did this had better be careful. If they’re still in there I’m going to ram my computer down their throat,” Kat said. She slammed inside.

Magda followed. They went down a hall, past an empty reception desk and through a door into the newsroom. It was smaller than she’d imagined; four or five workstations crowded the centre of the floor. Every computer had been smashed. Newspaper sheets lay all over the floor. A front page was pinned to the wall; beside it were three words scrawled in red paint.

You were warned.

Kat stared at the graffiti, her mouth set in a grim line.

Magda plucked the front page from the wall.
Police target pro alcohol protestors,
the headline yelled, and there was a picture of several officers laying into a group of youths in the square.

Kat’s voice broke the silence before it pressed them both down with its weight. “I guess they were serious then.”

Magda smoothed the paper between her hands. Her heart thudded uncomfortably. “How did they get here so quick? Didn’t this paper just come out today?”

Kat shook her head. “It gets distributed at midnight. They could’ve picked it up anywhere.”

“Where are the other journalists?”

“I come in earlier. Good point though, I need to make some phone calls. Just give me a minute, okay?”

Magda wandered the office while Kat made phone call after phone call on her mobile, explaining the situation over and over again. She noticed the landlines were cut at the power cords. Every monitor was smashed, but the towers had been opened up and the motherboards removed. Modem cords were cut. Filing cabinets had been left alone. A huge photocopier had a dent in the side, perhaps from a baseball bat. Magda touched the dent with her fingers, as though the act could show her who did it. She couldn’t credit anyone from the Congregation with it. She just couldn’t believe they’d be capable of it.

Kat finally put her phone back in her bag. “The boss is coming down to meet the police,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What are we going to do?” Magda trailed after her, grateful to leave the cold, depressing place.

“Nothing you’re
going to like.”

Magda made a face. “Please tell me you’re not taking me to church.”

“That all depends on what your father is really up to. It seems to me we need to break into one of these outreach centres and find out what’s really going on.”

“Break into an outreach centre?” Magda stopped dead in the middle of the car park. “Are you serious?”

Kat threw her bag into the car. “They broke into my office. I feel it’s justified.”

“Yeah but look what they did! What if they catch us?” Magda caught up to her and gripped the edge of the passenger door so hard her knuckles went white.

Kat gave her a look. “I’ve known you for barely a week, and in that time you’ve been the baddest Preacher’s daughter you could possibly be. You’ve run off to a gay club, you’ve been screaming drunk, you’ve popped pills, you’ve crashed your car and you’ve tried to shoot your father. I would have thought a little break and enter would be nothing.”

“But these people could really hurt us!”

“They’ve already hurt me. And you. Where are you going to finally draw a line, Mags? I know as well as you do if we don’t find out what these people are up to and stop them, it’s back to church and another exorcism or worse for you, and God knows what they’d plan for me or Adam. Now are you in?”

Magda stared at her. She’d never seen Kat this angry, but the anger wasn’t directed at her. The emotion coloured her cheeks. Sparks practically flew from her eyes. Strands of hair had escaped from her bun to fly out from her face as though she’d stuck her finger in a power socket. And everything she’d said was true. She had to draw a line somewhere. “I’m in,” she said.

“Good. Get in the car.” Kat swung into her seat.

Magda sat in the car, put on her seatbelt and closed the door. “Kat,” she said. “I apologise for this in advance, and you can slap me if you like, but I really need to do it.” She grabbed Kat’s face and kissed her on the lips.

It was a full minute before Kat broke the embrace. Her face flamed. She blinked at Magda for a moment. “I never kissed a girl before,” she said.

“I know. `Cos you’re not gay.”

Kat grinned and jammed the key in the ignition. “That’s right.”

*

They’d gone back to Kat’s house and changed into plain clothes; black slacks, long-sleeved shirts and coats. Magda knew good and well they stood more of a chance if they dressed in the Congregation uniform, but the thought made her sick to her stomach, and Kat refused in the name of good taste to wear one of the collars even if she did have one. So they opted for looking anonymous, picked an address from the paperwork and went there. Magda picked the centre that claimed to deal with alcoholism; it turned out it was only a few blocks away.

Now they sat in the car and watched the place, crouched low in their seats every time somebody went in or out.
A low white fence, a garden with pansies, a neatly trimmed yellow daisy bush and a red brick path led up to the veranda. There was a cross on the wall and a sign saying
hope.
That was it.