Heller’s Decision (47 page)

“No relatives
close by?”

“They’re all
Dad’s. Mum’s family live in the outback.”

“Are there any
Select men you trust?”

He laughed in
despair. “You’re kidding, right?”

What a dilemma.
I
wanted
to help him, but I knew I’d struggle to round up
anyone else to come with me. There were no friends of Select around
here. I battled in my mind about what to do. But when I thought of
the great wrong Chris Kirnin, that ugly bastard, had done to me, I
wanted to hurt him back twice as much.

“Okay,” I
yielded. “But I’m so rusty. I haven’t worked here for ages. How
much did your father drink? Could he have passed out by now?”

“He was very
drunk.”

“Nobody can
stay awake forever when you’ve had that much to drink.” He shot me
a questioning glance. “Not that I would know. I barely touch the
stuff,” I lied piously, feeling I should set some kind of good
example to the poor kid. Being Kirnin’s son couldn’t have been
easy.

“So what’s your
plan?” Marcus asked me, his face full of hopeful expectancy.

Plan?
Oh
geez, now the pressure was on. “Um, ring your house. If your father
answers, hang up immediately. If your mother answers, tell her your
safe. She’ll be worried sick about you.”

“I don’t have
my phone. There was no time to grab it.”

“Use mine.” I
handed him my mobile.

The trust in
his eyes for me to rescue his mother crushed me with the fear of
disappointing him. How could anyone possibly mistake me for a
responsible adult? Especially one with plans. But this was his
mother and she was in trouble, so I didn’t see that I had many
options.

“Nobody
answered,” Marcus said, his voice tremulous. “What does that
mean?”

“I don’t know,
Marcus. But let’s go now.” I thought for a moment. “Let me run down
to the basement to turn off the mains again. While I’m doing that
you sneak to the basement and into the backseat of my car. I’ll
make sure the doors are unlocked. Don’t let any of the men spot
you. It will be chaos in the darkness. It’s your best friend.” I
bunched my fist and held out my knuckles. He tapped his knuckles
against mine in a show of comradeship. “Come on, partner. Remember,
don’t do anything crazy-brave. We have no weapons, except . .
.”

I ran to my
room to retrieve an almost full canister of capsicum spray. I
decided not to tell Marcus about that, instead slipping it into the
inside pocket of the dark-coloured jacket I pulled on at the last
minute.

“Down the
stairs and straight to my car. Do you remember where the first
basement is?”

“Yes.”

“All right
then.” I patted him on the shoulder, hoping this whole night wasn’t
going to turn into the biggest clusterfuck ever known in
history.

I slipped out
through my door and took the stairs two-by-two, breathless by the
time I reached the basement. I killed the mains again, thanking all
the gods that there was a gap in security camera coverage directly
at the electricity box, though I knew after my little tricks, that
deficit would be attended to immediately. I would never get away
with this in the future. I stumble-felt my way over to my car,
throwing myself across the seats in the front, the gear stick
digging uncomfortably into my arm.

The thump of
heavy boots thundered down the stairs again. The backdoor to my car
opened stealthily and a weight leaned down on the backseat.

“Marcus, I’m
here. Stay low.”

The lights
flooded the garage again.

“What the
fuck’s going on tonight?” asked one of the men.

“Dunno,” said
another. “Something’s blowing regularly.”

“Which is more
than can be said for your wife,” joked the first.

“I thought it
was your vibrator that shorted out.”

“What? The
vibrator I borrowed from your wife? The only thing in your house
that’s big enough to satisfy her?”

Their loud
shouts of laughter and dirty trash talking became fainter as they
climbed the stairs.

They’d only
performed a cursory look around, not bothering to search the
vehicles. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath the whole
time until they left. The tension that fled my muscles made me
sigh-groan out loud.

“Stay low,
Marcus.” I rather everyone speculate and gossip about my strange
behaviour than realise I’d smuggled a Select family member inside
the Warehouse.

I screeched out
of the garage as fast as I could safely handle.

As soon as we
cleared the Warehouse I instructed Marcus to sit up and put on his
seatbelt. “Where do you live?” When I heard the name of the
ultra-ritzy suburb, I had to get him to direct me there, as I’d
never set foot in the place.

We pulled up a
block away from his place. I twisted in my seat to talk to
Marcus.

“Your priority
is to secure your mother and get her out of your house. Even if you
just take her to one of your neighbours or back to the car.
Somewhere safe. I’ll deal with everyone else.”
Oh God, I hope
there wasn’t anyone else.
“Give me a quick layout of the
house.”

“The front door
opens to a small entry with a study on one side and a media room on
the other. Then there’s a hallway that leads down to the lounge
room, dining room and kitchen.”

“Are those
rooms open-plan?”

“Yes. And the
bedrooms and bathrooms have doors on to the hallway.”

“What’s on the
top floor?”

“Mum’s and
Dad’s bedroom, bathroom and a study for Dad.”

We scoped the
house for a while, peeking in every window we could access, but
nothing stirred. I expected a troop of huge Select men to swarm us
at any minute, alerted to our presence by the myriad of security
cameras watching the property from every possible angle.

“Key?”

He handed his
house key to me and as quietly as possible, I inserted it into the
lock and turned, my heart pounding. I pushed the door open
cautiously into a wall of darkness. A high-pitched alarm screeched
out, making both of us jump.

“
Shit!
Turn it off, Marcus! The whole neighbourhood will come
running.”

He hastily
punched numbers into the code box and the screeched abruptly
stopped.

“Shit. That
took a few years off my life,” I said, willing my blood pressure
back to normal, which was a big ask considering I was currently
breaking into the house of a big, ugly bastard.

The glow of a
television strobed from a room at the end of the hallway, the same
direction from which came muted voices and a roaring kind of noise.
I crossed my fingers that, after a bit of family bashing, Kirnin
hadn’t decided to do some entertaining with his best friends,
because then I’d get really angry at his callousness.

We quickly
checked all the rooms leading on to the hallway, finding them all
empty.

“Wait back
here,” I instructed Marcus.

I crept towards
the lounge room, glad that the house was modern brick and concrete,
and not old, creaky timber. I sidled up to the doorway, flattened
against the hall wall, my capsicum spray in my hand. Anyone who
startled me tonight was going to severely regret it.

I craned my
neck around the corner. No lights were on, but the TV cast enough
illumination to make out the bulk of Kirnin slouched in an
armchair, a couple of half-full bottles of liquor on the floor near
him. I realised then that the mysterious roaring noise was in fact
him snoring. It was so loud and deep, I had no doubts about its
genuineness. He wasn’t playing possum.

I advanced on
him, my capsicum spray held out at arm’s length.

“Kirnin,” I
said in a normal volume of voice.

He didn’t
move.

I tried for a
louder pitch. “Kirnin?”

Still nothing –
he was majorly zonked out on booze. I held the bottles to the light
of the TV. One rum, one bourbon. He wasn’t going anywhere for a
while.

I jogged out of
the room back to Marcus. “You wait here while I go upstairs. Your
father looks as though he’s passed out, but if you hear him
stirring, you get out of here and ring
Heller’s
and ask for
security. Ask for Clive or Rumbles or whoever’s on duty tonight.
Tell them to get their butts here as fast as they can. Do you
understand?” He nodded. “Good. Go get your phone and pack a small
bag of clothes and anything else you need. You and your mum aren’t
staying in this house one second longer.”

I waited until
he spun around and went into one of the lower ground bedrooms. I
crept up the stairs, hoping Kirnin hadn’t ordered one of his goons
to watch over his wife. I only hoped she was up here and not buried
in the back yard.

I held my
capsicum spray in front of me again, but my hand shook enough to
make my spray a little uncertain. I knew full well what Chris
Kirnin was capable of, and I didn’t want to become part of any more
of his revenge pacts on Heller.

Only one door
led off the small foyer on the first floor. I tested the door
handle and it yielded for me. I pushed the door open, my spray
ready. It opened into a living space, probably a pleasant space to
have a coffee and read a book any other time, but now showing the
aftereffects of a fierce struggle. A lamp and the table on which it
rested had been knocked over, magazines spilled over the floor.
Cushions lay haphazardly scattered around the room and one of the
armchairs sat at a peculiar angle.

A half-closed
door led off the living area, and I crept over to it. Soft moaning
came from inside the room. I slowly pushed the door open. When I
saw the woman in the room, I was glad I’d told Marcus to stay
downstairs.

His mother laid
naked, each wrist tied to a corner of the bed. Fresh bruising and
welts showed stark against her pale skin. Her nose had crusted with
dried blood and one eye was swollen and bruised. I couldn’t even
imagine what suffering she’d endured under the hands of her own
husband.

She whimpered
when she rolled her good eye towards me, flinching back into the
bloodied mattress. I pushed the spray into a pocket on my jeans and
held my palms out to signify my harmlessness.

“Mrs Kirnin, my
name’s Tilly. Marcus came to me for help.”

“Marcus,” she
whispered weakly, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Is he all
right?”

“Yes. He’s
downstairs and –”

“Don’t let him
see me like this!”

“Of course not.
I told him to stay downstairs. I’m going to untie you.”

“Chris . .
.”

“He’s dead to
the world, drunk into a stupor. I’m going to take both Marcus and
you back to my place where you’ll be safe.”

I began untying
the complicated knots on the rope binding her to the bed.

“Who are
you?”

“My name’s
Tilly. I live with Heller.”

She flinched.
“
No!
I can’t go to Heller’s place. That man is the ruin of
Chris.”

“No, he’s not.
No doubt your husband blames him, but the ruin of Kirnin is his own
behaviour.”

“He’ll kill me
when he finds out.”

“We’ll call the
police when we get back to my place.”

“No! You never
involve the police. You should know that.”

“Sometimes it’s
the only thing to do. This is one of those times. This is a
criminal matter. Your husband has to be punished for what he’s done
to you and Marcus.”

I untied the
last knot and helped her sit up. She winced as she did and her gait
to her walk-in robe was slow and careful.

“Mrs Kirnin,
did he . . . attack you sexually as well?”

She stopped
where she was, her head hanging, and heaved a huge weeping sigh.
But she continued through her robe towards her bathroom without
confirming or denying. The door closed softly. After a few moments
I heard the gush of her peeing and then the retching noises of her
throwing up. She flushed, spent a few moments further and shuffled
out to find clothes.

While she
dressed at a snail’s pace, I threw random things into a bag I
found, enough to get her through a few days away from home. When
she’d finished dressing, I ushered her down the stairs and
instructed her to go to my car, where Marcus waited
apprehensively.

I took a few
minutes to check that Kirnin hadn’t regained consciousness. I was
tempted to call the police now. Surely the bloodstained sheets on
the bed upstairs would be enough to have him charged with
something. In the end, I decided not to. The accusations would spur
the police into action faster if it were Mrs Kirnin and Marcus
making them.

Mother and son
hugged each other in the back seat, both crying, all the way back
to the Warehouse. Inside the garage I had to ask them both to lie
low. Despite knowing my luck was running out, I tried the mains
cut-off ruse again, virtually pushing Marcus and his mother – Rose
– up the stairs to clear the ground floor landing.

We were
climbing up to the first floor, when a flashlight illuminated me
and a gravelly voice asked, “What’s going on here?”

It was
Clive.

Chapter
32

“It’s just me,”
I said innocently, turning around and climbing down a few steps so
he focussed the beam on me.

“And what makes
you think that arouses less suspicion in me?” he snapped. “What are
you up to? Every time the lights go out, I find you skulking around
in the dark.”

“Of course it’s
dark – the lights went out,” I snapped back at him. “I went out and
I came back. You keeping tabs on me or something?”

“Seems like a
mighty coincidence that the lights only go out when you’re in the
garage where the power switch is located.”

“What are you
trying to imply?”

He stared at me
for a long time, his flashlight blinding me. “Nothing,” he said
eventually.

“Good. I’m
going to my place, but I’d appreciate it if you could fix the
glitch in the electrical circuit. It’s becoming dangerous around
here.”