She followed Billy through the iron meshed gate that he unlocked with a key from his chain, and walked up to a porch. “Hang on a mo’ I’ll get some light on,” Billy said, and he disappeared into the house.
Solar lamps lit up the porch then Billy came out of the house with a bottle of red wine in an ice bucket and two glasses in his hands. He put the ice bucket on a small table set between two rocking chairs made from the branches of dead trees, and indicated that Marty should take a seat.
Marty sat down and Billy, twisting the top off the wine bottle, poured them each a glass. Putting the wine bottle back into the ice bucket, he picked up her glass and gave it to her.
“Thank you.”
“No worries, Missy,” said Billy, taking the seat next to hers. He offered his glass to hers in a toast.
“Now we can talk like civilized humans, eh?” He smiled at her.
She took a sip of the wine. “Mmm, this is delicious. By the way, please call me Marty or Martine if you prefer.”
“Glad you like it, Marty. Mob down south sends ‘em up for us. We send ‘em de bark paintings, and the yirdaki.”
“What’s a yirdaki?”
“You fellas call it a didgeridoo. We call it a yirdaki. Born here it was, Arn’em. Anyways we trade ‘em for the wine. Dead euca for live grape — good business eh?”
“Very good,” Marty said, taking another sip of the delicious wine. “So what can you tell me about the woman and the boy?”
“Damn sorry business dat. I did not see nothing.”
“That means you saw something right?”
“Yeah, I works dere maybe for a week or two dat time. Come down from me camp to Darwin and fella at Mirambeena give me a go. Do de desk, Billy, and I done it. And dat Chinaman and Balanda coming next day, tell me dey’s check out and pays de cred.”
“Sorry, Billy what’s a Balanda?”
“You, youse is a Balanda, a white man or woman.”
“Right, OK. So what happened? The woman checked in with the boy and the baby. How long was she there? Did you talk to her?”
“Just to say g’day, you know, how you do? Dey was dere bout three day. The next night, the fourth night, dey was gone. I was on early morning shift, three to eleven you know, and fellas come to me at five. I was sleepin’. Nothing going on about. And then fellas wake me. Say dey come to take the woman and de babe home. Pays the cred and up and left. By ‘n by I checks the room and that me make think strange.”
“What was strange?”
“Room clean as a whistle. Nothing dere. Only cover on de duct off see, lying on de floor.”
“But you didn’t see the woman or the boy leave?”
“Nah, just de babe. Fella was carrying im in ‘is arms, when ‘e cred the room. Cute little fella, de babe I mean.”
Marty took a long sip of her wine and looked out into the warm dark night. What Billy had told her was significant. To her it meant that the baby was taken alive and could still be alive. Whoever had the baby or had brought him up, could lead back to the people who had killed Philip Zumar and his wife Mariah. Mariah had hidden Gabriel in the air conditioning duct and he had crawled out of it after whoever came for them had left. Otherwise they’d have replaced the cover on the duct. She’d saved her children at the expense of her own life. A tear rolled down Marty’s cheek. She let it roll. For Mariah, she thought.
“Would you be willing to sign a statement about what you’ve told me and if required repeat what you have told me in a court?”
“Yeah, no worries, Marty. Never like bad business. Making wrong right is OK by Billy.”
Martine sniffed and with an embarrassed glance at Billy, smiled. She wasn’t pissed off anymore. She and Billy rocked on in silence.
The Lev ride up the Australasia Vactube took forty-five minutes to go from Darwin to Changi Lev port. Darwin time being three hours ahead of Asian Time, Marty had left Darwin at 10:35pm and with the Friday traffic delays in getting a Lev, had arrived back in New Singapore at 8:05pm. Tired, and with the strange feeling of having gone back in time, which traveling on the high speed Vactubes always left her with, Marty was glad to arrive back in front of her Env.
She glanced at the time on the Dev by her Env door. 8:20pm, Friday the 3rd of January 2110. The Dev scanned her eye and she went in, walking across the running track and swiftly to her cabin. What she needed badly now was a clean and a good long sleep. She entered her room, and the hairs on her neck rose and she froze. Something was off.
She went into a crouch, reaching into her canvas backpack side pocket. With her left hand she pulled out the black market fight gloves that she’d bought in Pattaya. Still crouching, she turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees and saw nothing out of the ordinary in the room. But something had set her on edge. Her heart was thumping in her chest. She controlled it, forcing a steadiness into her veins. She put the fight gloves on and turned them on, the sleeve of mesh running up and around her arm to her shoulder. The mesh from fingertip to shoulder couldn’t be cut and its power lent a deadly speed and force to any blow commanded by tapping her fingers in their glove tips.
Still in a crouch she silently stole to the light control Dev in the room. In the bottom drawer of the stand it was on, was a night vision helmet. She took that out and put it on. The oiled drawer slid back in its place without a sound. She reached up and killed the master switch, counting to two with her eyes shut, she opened them to see the fully lit room through the visor of the helmet. She silently walked to the shower room and reaching out with her hand pushed a button set into the granite wall of the shower cubicle. The meter wide shower head descended into the cubicle stopping ten cents from the floor.
Marty climbed onto the shower head, hooking a long lithe leg around the steel pole in the rear of the shower head and rising three meters above her. She pressed a green button set into the top of the shower head and it started to swiftly rise. The noise of the wires running on the rollers to the counterweights was all that could be heard in the warehouse. She came to a stop in the center of the ceiling, nestled among the steel ceiling beams that held the roof of the warehouse.
She looked over the warehouse from her perch high in the rafters. There was nothing out of the ordinary. There was no one here. Lowering herself to the ground, she took the helmet off and said loudly, “Lights.” She rolled her shoulders, shaking the adrenalin out of her limbs. Lifting her arms and beginning a springy, bouncy walk, she walked out of the door of her cabin and across to her fight bag. Before she reached it she tapped out a sequence with her fingers in the fight gloves and without halting her stride her fists lashed out, two lightening fast jabs from her left, two fast solid punches from her right and then she went in with the elbow. The bag swung violently on its hook. The warehouse echoed with the sound of its chain rattling. She stood back from the bag and taking a deep breath shut her eyes and turned off the gloves. The mesh uncoiled itself from around her arm and she shook the gloves off holding them in her hand as she went back into the cabin.
She walked over to her Sleeper and looked at the table beside it. The Devstick that she used to call Mother was gone.