Читать книгу The Big Smoke - Jason Nahrung - Страница 17

Kevin pulled the Monaro to a halt in a car park atop a bluff. It wasn't yet eight, but he felt as if the night had lasted a month already. Through a screen of pine and gum trees, he could see the ocean, dark and ominous and palely ruffled. A timber pier stretched out like a bony arm, sickly yellow in the electric wash of its lights. The swollen moon hung high over the water.

The only vehicle in the car park was a motor home covered in graffiti. A blond teenager in a trench coat lounged against the Winnebago's wall, smoking; light showed behind the vehicle's curtained windows.

Mel got out and popped the seat forward to let Greaser scramble after her. Blondie knocked on the Winnebago's door, then flicked his cigarette away as Kevin locked the car.

Mel led him over, saying, 'Argent, this is Kevin. The Needle's expecting us.'

The boy stared at Kevin, eyes showing silver. He opened the door. A teenage girl stood there, submachine gun pointed at them. She lowered it when she saw Mel. A silver tattoo — some creature's scaly tail — curled down her left side from under the ragged hem of her short singlet to disappear into her cut-off shorts. Another sliver snaked up her throat, vanishing behind her ear. Like the boy, she wore her peroxided hair short. Her eyes reflected a mercury sheen — contacts, Kevin realised. He was willing to bet they were both red-eyes.

Herbal scents floated out from behind the girl; there was the smell of antiseptic and a trace of blood. Kevin steadied himself, pushing away the recent blood memories from Ambrose and Mel.

This was the vehicle he'd seen in Greaser's blood; this was the Needle's mobile base. Finally.

Argent patted Kevin down, then said, 'He's in the back.'

'We'll wait,' Mel said, and the girl said she would put the kettle on, and showed Mel and Greaser to a cosy dining area up the front before pointing Kevin toward a curtain closing off the rear.

He was acutely aware of being unarmed as he pushed the cloth aside to reveal a couch similar to a dentist's chair, complete with overhead light. There was a basin and a UV microwave thing. A bank of shallow drawers labelled in print too fine to read at this distance.

His focus was on the man sitting on a wheeled stool behind a narrow bench. He wore scruffy blue jeans and sneakers. Green-glowing eyes blinked at Kevin, from the shadow of a voluminous hoodie, and changed to frosty blue.

The man pushed a takeaway meal to one side. Fresh blood scent tweaked Kevin's hunger.

'Sit.' A thin hand, the fingernails glinting like mica, pointed to a plastic chair.

Kevin sat. 'You're the Needle?'

'And you're Kevin Matheson, mechanic extraordinaire.'

'Not any more.'

'Who referred you to me?'

'No one, really. There was a guy mentioned you. Bhagwan. Up Rocky way.'

'I know of him.'

'He said you told him Jasmine Turner was setting up out west.'

'Did he?'

'Not in so many words, but that was the gist.'

'Ah, the gist. And what else did he intimate?'

'It means you know someone inside the VS operation; someone well connected, who could help me.'

The Needle leaned forward, as though bringing Kevin into focus. The movement offered a better view of the man's face, the suggestion of criss-crossing scars on nose, forehead and cheeks; of thin lips and sharp-tipped teeth; an appearance rattish and avaricious. Kevin could imagine that pointed nose twitching, those eyes blinking, the claws preening whiskers as he weighed the amount of cheese to be gained against the obvious risk of the suspected trap.

'Help you to get inside Thorn to kill the Strigoi. Is that right?'

'Blake tell you that?' Kevin asked.

The tattooist waved an enigmatic hand. 'Assuming I can provide you with the connections you need. What's in it for me?'

'How about, no Strigoi?'

'There is barely any Strigoi now. Since returning from her escapade in the west, she has fallen into bedlam. She is no threat to anyone.'

'What? Are you sure?' Kevin sat back, rubbed his face. He knew the dangers of bedlam. But Mira had seemed so alive when they'd last met. Crazy, but alive.

'You didn't know?'

He shook his head.

'Does this change things?'

Did it? He didn't know. 'Can she come back?'

'If anyone can, she can. I gather it's a little like being in a whirlpool. Throw someone a rope, they might be able to climb out.'

'Bedlam or not, she's still got something I want.'

'Are you sure she's in a position to give it to you? Or, for that matter, that you're able to—'

'I have to try!'

'Sounds to me as if you might be caught in a whirlpool of your own.'

'Just get me inside Thorn. I'll worry about getting myself out.'

The Needle leaned back, crossed his arms. 'In a fortnight or so, me and mine will be expected to provide Maximilian with a sample of our blood — a show of fealty. His ersatz bloodhag — Mira's apprentice, if you like — will sift those samples, potentially revealing this meeting. Just talking to you puts my life on the line.'

Kevin stood, straining ears seeking sounds of betrayal.

The Needle sounded tired as he gestured toward the door. 'Go home, boy. Live your life.'

'I have no home.'

From under the cowl came the hint of a grim smile. 'It's where the heart is.'

Kevin leaned on the back of the chair, his grip tight, and said, slow and low: 'Mira killed my mother. In cold blood. Just because she could.'

'Mira has killed many mothers. And fathers, and children.' He paused, as though distracted by something at the corner of his vision, something out of place he'd just noticed. 'Tell me about Danica.'

'She's not on the table.'

'I have a friend who would like very much to meet with her. To put to her a proposition. It would be in her favour, from what I gather.'

'I'm not in a position to speak for her.'

The Needle raised a finger. 'But you are in a position to set up a meeting. Give and take, favour for a favour: that's how our world turns, Kevin the mechanic. Some favours are worth considerable risk.'

The deal sat between them, slippery and pointed, a black snake with two heads.

Voices murmured on the other side of the curtain. The waves rolled hypnotically on the shore. A seagull called; further away, a plane droned. The everyday world filled the silence as Kevin and this strange man discussed something far from the everyday.

Kevin slipped back into the chair. 'She won't kill anyone,' he said, hoping to disappoint.

'That is not her talent.'

'I could ask her, I suppose. But she'd need more information; she won't see just anyone.'

'You get me a meeting with Danica, and I can ask my contact about getting you inside Thorn to kill her daughter.'

Kevin flinched. The brutality smarted. Maybe it was as well his parents couldn't see him, this thing he had become. They would want justice, though, wouldn't they? He forced himself to calm, to un-fist his hands.

'What if she won't agree to meet your friend?'

'The risk to me is great. If Maximilian were to find out I had helped you when he's given express orders for your capture?' He made a sudden chopping motion across his own throat. 'No, in this present unsettled climate, I cannot afford to take careless risks. You are a wanted man, after all.'

'Wanted by who?'

'Whom. You've been in the papers. The police, VS, others looking to please VS: they all want you.' He shook his head, as though the idea amused him.

Kevin studied the man, but he was contained, impenetrable. 'You didn't set me up, did you? At the tattoo shop?'

'If I wanted to deliver you to Maximilian, I would have done just that. Most likely, your enquiries reached ears other than my own. Only the snitch and Johnny Slick know who betrayed you.'

'The Fonzie dude.' Kevin nodded, seeing a way forward. 'Okay, where do I find him?'

'You think he'll tell you who he was working for?'

'One way or another, sure.'

'Very well. Flash was a friend of mine, and a damn fine needle man. He taught me a lot. Slick's gang runs on the south side. Melpomene will show you where. I suspect they've gone to ground. Maximilian won't be happy that he crossed the river without permission — assuming he didn't have permission, of course. But I doubt the Old Man would've sanctioned it when he could've just sent his own troops to bring you in. No, there's a snake in the woodpile. Go, flush it out, and let me know what you find. Just remember — in a fortnight, I'm expected to tithe, and by doing so, or not doing so, I will be just as wanted as you.'

'You'll do that though. You'll help me get Mira?'

'One step at a time, boy. You bring Danica to the table, and yes, I'll help you. Just be sure you can live with the consequences.'

Kevin held out his hand. The Needle shook it. Just like that, the deal was done. He should've been happy, right?