‘Used to be a detention facility, a jail for illegal migrants,’ said Granger, indicating the massive structure. ‘Course, they had to move that as well, once they started getting hundreds of boatloads of reffos turning up every week. Got a huge place out in the desert now. Fucking Sandline got the contract for that. They can have it, for all I care.’
Jules could see no evidence of the site’s former use. To her, the campus of the Coonawarra Base Hospital looked like a modern business park, with gleaming white and blue glass offices separated by verdant walking paths that must have been watered constantly to keep them such a lustrous green. Young saplings stood at short, regular intervals, and would eventually shade most of the grounds.
‘So the development authority built this too?’
‘With a bit of federal money, yes, but mostly it was the FPDA.’
She took that in without comment. The money and power politics reminded her of some of the Asian Tiger capitals back in the early ‘90s, before their economies imploded. She didn’t imagine that would happen here. Darwin seemed to be thriving as the terminal point for insane volumes of money seeking shelter from the torments of the post-Wave world. Pete would’ve loved this, she thought.
Yes, poor Pete Holder, her former doofus in crime on board the old Diamantina, he would’ve seen a dollar to be made at every turn, especially somewhere like New Town. Jules could only begin to imagine the trouble he’d have landed in there.
‘Fuck, forgot to put the meter on,’ Granger said as they pulled up at the main entrance to the hospital. ‘Guess we’ll call it a freebie.’
‘I don’t know how long I’ll be here, Mr Granger, or even whether I’ll get to see Rhino,’ she told him, preparing to step out into the blistering heat. ‘Will you be around?’
‘We’re always around, love,’ he replied. ‘Just call for a taxi using that same phone. Me or one of the other boys will turn up.’
‘And the other boys, they would be …’
‘Around.’
*
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
‘But I was sent out here specifically to talk with him,’ said Julianne, trying her best to match the officious tone of the matron. She’d dealt with this type before: punishing old dykes of a kind often found in large institutions populated by women. They being boarding schools, hospitals and female prisons.
‘I’m sure I could not care less about what you were sent out here to do, young lady. Mr Ross is under deep sedation. An induced coma, indeed. He has been very badly injured and I have very specific instructions from his surgeon and, I might add, from the police, that he is not to be disturbed. I don’t know what you hope to achieve, anyway. Do you understand what a coma is?’
Jules drew on all her reserves of patience. She’d at least made it past reception and into the office of this terrible battleaxe. The room seemed to have been decorated by the same designer with a disregard for budget as the police station at Bagot Road. The chair in which matron’s ample behind was parked, for instance, looked like about three thousand dollars’ worth of arse-planting technology.
‘Look,’ Jules said, softening her tone. ‘I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot. But I’m new in this job, I’m just finding my way through, and quite frankly my boss is a rather scary South African man and, I suspect, eats puppies for breakfast. If I have to return to the office and tell him I didn’t even get past the front door, let alone see our client, I fear for my safety. And for the puppies.’
She had found in the past that playing helpless and needy often worked with these old buzzards. You had to appeal to their sense of importance. This one was no different. Jules could actually feel the older woman weakening at the pathetic plight of this blue-suited pretty young thing, out of her depth, far from home, in desperate need of indulgence by a firm-handed matronly type.
‘I accept it will be impossible to talk to him, if he’s unconscious,’ Julianne went on, adjusting her square-rimmed glasses for maximum effect. ‘But it would mean a lot if I could just lay eyes on him, Matron. Make sure he’s all in one piece.’ She hesitated. ‘He is all in one piece, isn’t he?’
Such heartfelt concern for a client seemed to strike a nerve.
‘He hasn’t lost any limbs or organs,’ the woman replied, gradually losing her battleaxe demeanour. ‘But he does have some bad burns, and quite a few stitches …’ She held up a meaty hand suddenly, to ward off Julianne’s distress. ‘He’s in good hands, though. Royal Darwin Hospital is a world centre of excellence for the treatment of burns and explosive trauma, and some of their best people are consulting surgeons here. Mr Ross is under their care.’
‘But still, if I could just see him?’
She wasn’t going to relent, and the head nurse could see that.
‘Oh, I suppose I could let you put your head in the ward for one minute. But you must stay well within the infection control zone. Under no circumstances must you approach him or attempt to communicate with him. Do you understand?’
‘I do. Thank you.’
She had thought the matron might summon an underling to escort her up there, but apparently she didn’t trust this eager young thing to behave herself. Almost expecting to be hauled along by the ear, like a naughty child, Jules followed along in her wake. She passed through a number of infection barriers to end up masked and gowned in an observation room, where she was able to see the Rhino through a large window. She had to remind herself to stay in character as her throat clenched and tears threatened to well up.
Two nurses in bio-hazard suits were changing his dressings, allowing her a glimpse of incinerated flesh. She forced herself to remain composed lest she be overwhelmed with pity and rage. If Cesky had walked into the room, she would’ve pulled out her pistol and shot him in the face. The consequences be damned.
Cesky wasn’t here, yet he was a spectre, hovering over all of them. Would this particular outrage be enough for him? Or would he send his people back to finish the job? She resolved to shut the bastard down before he got another chance.
‘Thank you, Matron,’ she said quietly.
‘It’s very upsetting,’ replied the older woman. ‘Even when you don’t know them personally.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Jules. ‘It is.’
She bade a silent farewell to her old shipmate before following the matron out of the observation room, and retracing their steps back to her office. Julianne thanked the woman again as she left. She was just about to call up Granger, but instead found herself hurrying into the nearest bathroom, first to splash cold water on her face, and then to stagger into a cubicle and vomit up her breakfast.
She emerged, shaky and light-headed after a few minutes. The driver answered on the second ring when she eventually made the call, and pulled up outside the hospital entrance just two minutes later.
‘Jeez, you look like death warmed up,’ he said as she half climbed, half fell into the seat beside him. ‘A bit rough, was it?’
‘It could’ve been better,’ she muttered.
‘Okay, sorry to hear that. Where to now?’
She wanted to talk to Shah, but they had agreed to keep their distance while she trailed her coat about town, looking to draw out Cesky’s hitter.
‘I think I’d like to go down to the marina at Gonzales Road,’ she said. ‘See if I can find anybody down there who saw anything that might help. You know, suspicious-looking coves planting bombs and such like. I suppose there’d be surveillance cameras everywhere, but the Old Bill have probably laid hands on those already.’