‘Get out!’
It was Bindi. His breath smelled of beer and tobacco and his body smelled of sweat and poor hygiene. He must have moved incredibly quickly to get from where he’d been to where he was now. I started to climb out, simultaneously reaching for the cosh in my pocket. He chopped me hard enough on the side of the neck to half-paralyse me. I lost my grip on the cosh and felt him haul me out, using only one hand. I was a dead weight and a considerable one but it didn’t bother him. I got some feeling back as I propped myself up against the car and decided that a kick to the balls was my only hope. He hit me again and that was the end of that. My legs wobbled and my vision blurred. He held me up.
‘You followed us,’ he grated in the distinctive Aboriginal tone.
‘I want to talk to Stan Morris. This was the only way I knew how to find him.’
‘Yeah, you want to talk, brother? What’s the fuckin’ blackjack for?’
‘I saw you and got scared.’
‘Bullshit. You did a real dumb thing tonight. You forget all about it, right? You forget the van, the house, me, Stan, everything? Right?’
I nodded. ‘Okay.’
I didn’t see the punch coming but I felt and heard my jaw break as it landed. I was blacking out. Then there was a terrible pain in my side as I fell with my full weight against the kerb. I curled myself up, waiting for the kick that would finish me off. The act of curling sent waves of pain through me. The last thing I experienced was a warm rush and a feeling of shame as my bladder let go.
19
White sheets, soft lights, firm, narrow bed, polished floor, pale walls, Venetian blinds-all very unfamiliar. I turned my head to look towards the door and wished I hadn’t. My neck was rigid and my jaw felt as though a vice had been applied to it and screwed down tight. I tried to keep my head still and roll my body to the left and that hurt just as much. There was heavy strapping around the lower part of my torso and something inside that felt very loose. I was in a hospital sure enough, but I had no idea how I’d got there or how long I’d been in residence. Private room. Quite right, given the amount of health insurance I pay.
I’d been hospitalised often enough to know how things work. I felt around the bedhead for the buzzer to call the nurse and pressed it. While I waited I tested a few things. Vision seemed all right, teeth intact, legs mobile. My nose has been broken so many times that breathing through it is difficult. There was a heavy dressing along the side of my jaw and I knew what that meant. With my jaw wired up, mouth breathing wasn’t easy either. I sucked in a deep breath and felt sharp, stabbing pains in my side and wondered how many ribs had been damaged and how badly. Cracked or broken? Still, it could’ve been worse. It wasn’t nearly as bad as being shot. Then I remembered how my bladder had let go and I was embarrassed to think of the state I must have been in when I reached the hospital.
The door opened and a nurse came in. She seemed glad to see me awake if the wide smile on her pretty Asian face was anything to go on. It made me wonder how bad I’d been on arrival. Punctured lung? Cardiac arrest?
‘Good morning, Mr Hardy.’
Was it? Of course, light showing around the edges of the blinds. My voice was a thin squeak through my clamped bones and I realised that my mouth was desert dry. ‘Good morning, nurse. Would you mind telling me where I am and how I got here?’
She did nursely things to the bed and looked at the chart. ‘You’re in the Charlesworth Private Hospital’
‘And where’s that?’
‘In Ryde. You were found in a car parked in the hospital entrance.’
‘With a broken jaw and ribs.’
She nodded. ‘Your jaw was broken in two places. You have four cracked ribs but none broken. You were having breathing difficulties and they thought you might have a punctured lung, but you don’t. They also suspected a cracked vertebra but there isn’t, just compression of two vertebrae which is bad enough.’
‘Good news,’ I wheezed. ‘I… ah, must have been a mess.’
‘I wasn’t on duty. I gather your clothes have been sent to the laundry. Would you like some water?’
‘Please.’
She poured water into a glass from a covered jug and inserted a straw. I tried to struggle up and gasped with the pain. She put a cool hand on my forehead.
‘Stay there. You can use the straw.’
The water I sucked up tasted better than a cold beer on a hot day. But somehow the drink and the relief it afforded caused me to lose concentration. My eyes fluttered and I saw the nurse move away. I wanted to stop her. I had more questions, but I couldn’t summon the energy to speak. All the shapes I could see and everything I could feel seemed to soften and I felt the dope they must have given me kick in and I floated away.
When I woke up again the attractive Asian nurse had been replaced by an older woman and a concerned-looking man in a suit. I kept my head very still but I moved my arms and legs, just to make sure I still could.
‘Mr Hardy, I’m Matron Costello and this is Mr Barnes, the administrator of the hospital.’
‘Forgive me for not shaking hands.’ It would have worked better if it hadn’t come out all squeaky.
The Matron gave a thin smile and consulted the chart. I’ve looked at charts like that myself and they never seem to convey anything, but she looked satisfied.
‘You’re responding well. Do you feel up to answering a few questions from Mr Barnes?’
‘If he’ll answer a few from me.’
She didn’t like that much but she let it pass and went off to be bossy somewhere else. Mr Barnes drew up a chair, checked his watch, clicked a pen and held it over his clipboard.
‘I have to decide whether or not to report the assault you obviously suffered to the police.’
‘You won’t believe an accident?’
‘Certainly not. But Dr Sangster has prevailed upon me to talk to you first.’
It transpired that they’d gone through my wallet when they collected me and found the card that tells anyone finding me in distress to contact Dr Ian Sangster. Ian had come himself and okayed a surgeon to do the wiring and strapping. He’d advised them not to contact the police without talking to me first. Ian can be very persuasive when he tries.
‘We saw your investigator’s licence,’ Barnes said. ‘And assumed this has something to do with your profession.’
‘Something,’ I said. ‘I would prefer you don’t tell the police. I need to pursue this in my own way.’
‘Very well. Not for a while, I’m afraid. You’ve been quite badly hurt.’
‘I’m grateful for the attention I’ve had. I guess they found my health insurance card, too?’
Barnes scribbled a few words and smiled.
‘You’re fully covered. I’ll hand you back to Matron.’
‘I’d prefer the Asian nurse.’
‘That was hours ago. She’s gone off duty.’
‘Can you tell me where my car is?’
‘It’s in the hospital grounds, locked up and safe. Do you want something from it?’
I doubted that they’d let me have the beer and I hoped I wouldn’t need the cosh or the gun. ‘No, I just wondered. Will you charge me for parking?’
‘You really shouldn’t talk so much, Mr Hardy. It can’t be easy. I just have a few things here for you to sign.’
I signed and he went away. The Matron came back and asked me if I was in pain. I was and told her so.
‘I’m not surprised. You have a wire connecting the hinge of your jaw to the bone. You should by rights be wearing a neck brace, but Dr Sangster said you would refuse.’
‘He was right.’