The Hunting (15 page)

Rian frowned. ‘When was this?’

Genie shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I was with them, like before, only different. They’re all in a coma, Ri. They’re all on life-support. Randall too. I don’t know how or why, but I met them. They’re really scared. The Fortress shaved their heads like mine. But there was a massive Mosquito attack. It was supposed to catch me and Renée probably, but it made them all flake out.’

‘Where is this tunnel?’ Rian was sceptical.

‘The tunnel doesn’t matter. It’s dead, the stuff is antique, useless. But I must have been shown it for a reason. I think I was supposed to come up with a plan to get them out.’

Renée squeezed her hand. ‘We can barely keep ourselves out of trouble, Genie.’

‘We have to find a way to help them. We can’t run away any more. That’s why I was shown the picture. I’m sure of it.’

‘You said a map?’ Rian asked, curious.

‘Radspan. It’s like a diagram of teleport chambers each slightly further apart. But it’s no use, Ri; they didn’t have enough power back then. We don’t even know if they built any of them. It didn’t work. Denis watched a video. They tried, but nothing worked. Anyway, even if I could find a way to get them out, they’re in comas. You know how to wake someone up who’s in a coma?’

Rian thought about it. If the Fortress couldn’t wake them there was no way they could. He was intrigued that there was an earlier version of the Fortress though. Radspan was a strange word but half of it sort of made logical sense. Span – a distance.

‘But who is this Strindberg?’ Renée asked. ‘How did he even get hold of a photo of you? What were all those creepy things in his house? Failed experiments?’

Rian looked at her and all three understood at the same moment that that’s
exactly
what they had been looking at. It was a museum of Fortress failures. A grisly record of death – those human limbs in the glass tanks had once been
children
. Kids they may even know. It wasn’t art at all.

‘Better yet, what were the chances we’d even wind up there?’ Renée added. ‘God, this scares me.’

‘It’s the Fortress, it’s like a damn magnet, keeps pulling us back,’ Rian said bitterly.

‘There was an old finance magazine in the chamber,’ Genie remembered. ‘It was the last thing I looked at before the lights went out. Something about the government cutting back on science research. There was a picture of a small man in an expensive suit. Carson Strindberg, financial adviser to the Premier.’

Rian remembered the small man standing next to Reverend Schneider. ‘Like five-foot small with silver hair?’

Genie nodded. ‘We were in his house, right? He’s rich. We know he’s rich. But why has he got the photo of me? There were other pictures too, weren’t there? It’s sick. If you know what’s happening to me and the other kids, it’s totally sick.’

Renée pointed at the driver trying to listen and put her finger to her lips.

Rain shrugged. ‘I don’t think he understands much. He’s just a caretaker.’

‘But he’s going to tell his boss we were here,’ Renée protested.

‘He’s probably already done that,’ Rian explained. ‘We should expect trouble.’

‘I never thought of someone actually owning the Fortress,’ Genie whispered.

‘I guess someone has to,’ Rian mused. ‘Someone really rich, like Strindberg. If you saw his photo in the teleport chamber, even an old one …’

‘It means he knows what’s going on and, worse, so does the former Premier, Ri. It means they don’t give a damn about us. It explains why none of the newspapers came when we tried to expose Reverend Schneider. We’re toast.’

‘We don’t actually know Strindberg owns the Fortress. We’re just guessing,’ Rian stated, but even he could see the logic of it.

‘I don’t care who owns it, Ri. But we have to think of a way to get our friends out of there. It’s just not fair. I’m not going to be hunted any more. We’re going to have to find a way to face them and beat them.
We’re
going hunting.’

Renée wasn’t sure. Running away sounded like a better plan in her book. Rian stroked Moucher, thinking that he wished he’d steered them towards Mexico after all.

‘You get out now,’ their driver said as he slowed at the top of the hill overlooking Langdale Landing.

They looked up, saw the Horseshoe Bay ferry steaming out of the port below.

Renée opened the door and helped Genie and Moucher climb out. Rian thanked him and shook the driver’s hand. They waved him off as he drove away. He kept smiling at them; wasn’t his fault he worked for the devil.

Genie was looking around, feeling more herself now, trying not to think about that gallery of horrors in Strindberg’s house. They had been dropped at the top of the hill overlooking town and the harbour. Shops were opening up and people were passing by going to their jobs or shopping. Langdale was a perfectly normal, sunny, small town; it looked cute. There were a few art galleries and some tourist souvenir places selling First Nation carvings and coffee shops, of course. They gravitated towards a coffee shack that promised
All-day breakfasts with bottomless coffee – just $5.95
. A steal.

Genie tied Moucher to a lamppost, promising to bring back something for him to eat. He cocked his head to one side and Genie had to promise him that she’d be back. She sensed he was more worried than he was letting on. She wondered if he was missing Marshall. She’d been selfish taking him with her. She was beginning to think everything she did was selfish.

‘Do they do lattés?’ Renée whined.

‘They do cheap food and we’re broke,’ Rian told her firmly.

‘I don’t think I can eat,’ Genie said, hanging back; her stomach still churned.

‘You have to eat. Soon we may not be able to,’ Rian told her.

She reluctantly followed them both inside. Renée’s heart sank when she saw the coffee pot standing on a warmer. They ordered eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns and brown toast with stewed coffee. All of them now realized that, given their financial situation, it might be their last full meal.

Rian was making notes on the napkin. He looked at Genie.

‘We need some kind of plan.’

‘Mexico, let’s walk,’ Renée suggested. ‘I’m all for getting far away from here.’

‘Staying alive is our first priority,’ Rian declared. ‘Helping Cary and the others to escape has to come second.’

Genie sighed, at last realizing the truth of their situation.

‘Ri’s right. I’m sorry. It’s not fair of me. We can’t help them. They’re in comas; there’s nothing we can do for them. I’m being stupid. Hell, it might have been just a dream. Nothing seems real any more. Seeing that photo of me totally threw me. We have to stay free. I can’t allow us to take any more stupid risks. At least we know who the enemy is now. Strindberg.’

‘You say “Strindberg”, honey?’

Genie looked up at the waitress. She was plump, in a candy-striped uniform and looked harassed.

‘The guy with the mansion,’ Renée commented. ‘Can’t believe anyone has a house that big.’

‘There’s a few like that up the Sunshine Coast, but none as mean as that man. But be careful what you say; a lot of people hate him, but he pays a lot of bills around here. Just because you don’t like him, you keep it to yourself. Y’hear?’

Genie glanced at her and tried to decide whether this was a friendly warning or what.

The waitress leaned in and whispered in her ear. ‘He’s got spies. Man in the hat over there works for him.’ She indicated an older man in a suit, having coffee and doughnuts. ‘He can put a person out of business – like that.’ She snapped her fingers. She straightened up and walked away.

Genie discreetly looked at the man she was indicating and then quickly looked away again. She didn’t know him. With luck he didn’t know her, wasn’t looking for her, but she was acutely aware that even here people would be keen for the twenty-grand reward to find her and Renée.

The food arrived and they fell silent as the waitress pushed plates of fried food in front of them, winking at Genie as she did so. Genie sighed. Quite why she had to be brought into some conspiracy she didn’t know.

‘Can we just agree to stay alive?’ Rian asked as he placed his eggs on top of his toast.

Renée stood up. ‘Need hot milk. I can’t drink this stuff naked.’

Genie looked directly at Rian a moment. ‘Can you borrow me a cellphone? Just some absolute total stranger. One call. One text actually.’

Rian looked at her quizzically.

‘Text?’

‘To Marshall.’

Renée returned with a steaming latté and a big smile on her face.

‘Had to kiss his ass, but I got a latté. Did you know there’s a music fest over in Gibsons Landing today? Old country rockers stuff, I think. Town’s going to be full by this afternoon. The way we’re dressed, we’ll fit right in. Be pregnant by dawn and divorced by Saturday.’

‘What?’ Genie and Rian looked at her and laughed.

‘Something my ma always used to say, that’s all.’ She grinned. ‘She didn’t approve of Blue Grass. Only church music.’

Genie smiled, her mood lifting as she ate.

‘I always wanted to go to Africa.’

‘I thought it was Mexico.’

Genie shook her head. ‘Never really liked Mexico. Wanted to go to Cape Town and see where the two oceans meet. I heard you can almost see a line in the water.’

Rian shook his head. ‘You are one strange girl.’

Renée began to eat. ‘I ain’t sailing to Africa. I can tell you that flat out. No way.’

Genie and Moucher took a walk whilst Renée and Rian went to ‘borrow’ a cell. She didn’t go far. Waited for the guy who was supposed to be Strindberg’s spy and watched him leave and get into a Lexus. He didn’t drive off immediately, taking a call on his phone. Genie didn’t know why she was watching him, but she wanted to make sure she could recognize him if he came after her. She knew that the moment Strindberg realized she’d been to his house and left Reverend Schneider’s yacht there, he’d be sending this guy out to look for her. Know your enemy. It was her mantra now.

Miller got the text when he went to make coffee for himself and Marshall. He’d brought the truck back. Almost felt brand new after Ferry had serviced it. He took the coffee out to where Marshall was sitting under some shade. He was still nursing his injuries from the fire and beating he’d got, but at least his colour had returned.

‘You got a text. You expecting one?’

Marshall looked up. He narrowed his eyes and wiped his brow.

‘Only one person I know would send me a text and we told her to throw the damn phone away.’

‘Well, it’s cryptic.’

‘What does it say?’

‘
Radspan
– with a question mark.’

Marshall was surprised. ‘That’s it? You know the number?’

‘No, but if she’s smart she’s using someone else’s cell.’

Marshall frowned. It had been a while since he’d heard that word. The pig trotted in from the field and snorted.

‘Pig must know it’s her,’ he said, smiling.

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Send this first. Verify password.’

Miller nodded and inputted the text. ‘I guess we don’t want to find it’s the Fortress on a fishing expedition.’

‘I don’t think it is, but I want to be sure.’

The cell pinged with an incoming message.

‘
Moucher
,’ Miller said, looking up with a smile.

Marshall nodded. ‘OK, we’re going into my office. I’m not talking without noise.’

Miller took his father’s arm and they walked slowly back into the house. Marshall was still getting used to his new leg and his burns weren’t completely healed.

They went through the kitchen and into the pantry. Miller swung out the boxes that hid the secret door and they entered his lab. It was still a chaotic mess, but Marshall pretty much knew where everything was. He flipped a switch, and an audible and irritating electric hum was initiated. He pointed to earphones and they both slipped them over their heads.

‘Got to do this; they had plenty of time to put in new ears.’

Miller nodded. He didn’t want the Fortress listening in either.

Marshall plugged his cell into his earphones and dialled the most recently received number.

Genie answered on the second ring.

‘I’ve been there. In the tunnel. With the others,’ she said quickly, not wasting time on chit-chat.

Marshall was surprised. She sounded strained. He understood more than anyone that she had to keep it quick and cryptic.

‘Big dome carved out of chalk,’ Genie added, to make sure he understood.

‘For real?’

‘You know …’

Marshall knew. The astral plane. Genie’s special skill of spirit-walking.

‘Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still alive.’ He heard barking. Moucher. His heart leaped, which was surprising for a man who always said he didn’t care for that dog.

‘Mouch says hi. Probably wishes he hadn’t come. Had a lot of stuff to deal with on the way.’

‘We heard about Betty. That was a real shame her crashing.’

‘We didn’t crash. We were driven off the road. She was shot through the neck, tell Miller. She was a good person. I’m really sorry about that.’

Marshall’s eyebrows were raised. The police report had said she’d been drinking and driven off the road. Nothing about any shooting.

‘I keep thinking the tunnel is a message to me,’ Genie told him.

‘Got to tell you it was a technical dead-end,’ Marshall told her.

‘The others were there waiting for me. They haven’t got much time. Cary thinks they’re dying. There was a massive Mosquito attack. I have to work it out somehow. Can you think about it? Got to go. Keep moving.’

Marshall was trying to think fast. ‘Can I reach you on this?’

‘No. We will call you.’

‘Send a message tonight,’ Marshall said. ‘I’ll be ready for your questions then. Are you … ?’

‘Yes.’

Genie disconnected and Marshall did the same.

Miller looked at him with burning questions on his lips.

Marshall removed his headphones and frowned.

‘Betty Juniper was murdered. Shot through the neck. Someone is covering up for the Fortress in your department. Did they fish the vehicle out yet?’