Chapter 38 #2
‘What do you know?’ Dougie raises the gun and points it at Sebastien’s head. ‘Why say that?’
‘We’ve been tracking you for months.’
A click. ‘I know how to use this.’
‘If I didn’t know that, I’d have taken it.’
‘Seb …’ Kingsley lifts his hands then puts them back on his head. ‘Don’t poke the bear, mate.’
‘You’re not in control, Thorsen,’ Dougie sneers. ‘How does that feel?’
Kingsley addresses Dougie: ‘You’ve been under pressure with the extra work you’ve taken on and that—’
‘Shut up!’ Dougie shouts.
‘Let us go.’ Jerry’s hands are shaking so much he can barely link them together on his head. ‘We haven’t done anything.’
Kingsley lowers one arm to put it around Jerry’s waist. ‘Steady on, mate, we’ll be all right.’
‘They need time.’ Dougie nods as if to himself. ‘They’ll get here.’
A gust of wind shoots through the shattered window.
‘You’re not important enough.’ Sebastien’s words are measured. ‘Your information wasn’t important.’
‘Bullshit!’
‘Qinling Station’s sea, land and air capabilities, communications infrastructure, ability to monitor Australian communications.
Images of GPS satellite receivers. Station gossip about tech capabilities and ice core–drilling equipment.
Information like that would only have been useful for building a connection between you and your handler. It also gave them a hold over you.’
Another wave of the gun. ‘They’ll get me out.’
‘How long have you known your handler? Twelve months? Eighteen? He was testing you. Pass one test, you get a harder one. He was private secretary to a bureaucrat, and he’ll be dragged out of bed and shipped back to Russia tonight. I bet the ambassador doesn’t even know his name.’
‘You don’t know anything!’
‘How do you think the Russians will react when they discover—and they will—that we’ve identified you and your handler, and others he’s been in contact with? You led us to them.’ A tight smile. ‘You’ll be treated better in Australia.’
‘To rot in jail?’
‘In a Russian prison, it’ll be too cold to rot.’
Dougie’s eyes are wild. ‘You’re full of shit!’
‘They’ll want to know everyone you’ve met, everything you’ve done, in the past ten years. If you can’t answer their questions, you’ll wish you were dead days before it happens.’
‘I don’t believe you!’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Seb …’ Kingsley grimaces. ‘I think that’ll do.’
‘I could kill you right now.’ Dougie still has his gun on Sebastien.
Sebastien likes to read books. He loves his family.
He’s kind to Matilda. He’s not friendly like Nate or self-deprecating like Kingsley or sociable like Angelina or funny like Jerry, but he’s generous and caring and protective.
He’s principled. What if I jumped up and yelled all that out? Would it make things better or worse?
I put my hands between my knees to still the shaking as Sebastien looks at his watch.
‘Did you message your handler before or after you hit Nate?’
‘Who said I hit him?’
‘If you shot him, you didn’t kill him. He’s two hundred metres away.’
Dougie backs away. ‘Give me time to think!’
‘Can I say something?’ Jerry winces as he uncrosses his legs.
‘Every morning since I got here, you’ve tucked into my omelettes.
Powdered egg, tinned ham, sundried tomatoes.
I don’t get to cook with fresh food, but I do what I can with what’s in the pantry.
If you’ve slept in, I stay behind to make sure you’re fed.
And that’s okay, because when I’m running late at night, you convince the guys at the poker table to surrender their cards and start a new game. ’
‘What’s your point?’
‘Forgive me, mate, but none of this makes sense. What’s all this about Russians?’
Dougie turns to Sebastien. ‘He knows.’
‘You came here, via the Russian Embassy, to feed your ego and pay your gambling debts.’
‘There’s more, isn’t there?’ Kingsley says. ‘You’re high as a kite. What is it? Cocaine? Meth? No wonder you can’t get up in the mornings. What are you on?’
‘Shut up!’
Sebastien lowers his arms. ‘If we’d known about the drugs, we would have stepped in earlier.’
‘Get fucked!’
‘Where did he get the gun?’ Jerry’s voice is croaky.
‘Only Clarissa has access to the gun room,’ Kingsley says.
‘She’s sloppy with her combinations,’ Dougie sneers.
‘You were a marksman in the army reserve,’ Sebastien says. ‘Have you shot a man before?’
‘I reckon we might’ve said enough.’ Kingsley’s voice is croaky.
Sebastien holds out his hand. His left hand. The hand with the middle finger where he’d wear his grandfather’s ring if he hadn’t given it to me. The hand that’s perfectly steady. How can that be?
‘You’re not getting off this island,’ Sebastien says. ‘Give me the gun.’
A shadow—Nate crawling—crosses the window behind Dougie. When Sebastien gestures with a flick of his fingers that Nate should go away, Nate raises a hand to his head before falling against the window. Dougie spins around. A deafening explosion. Another explosion as a second window shatters.
Sebastien tackles Dougie around the legs. ‘Get out!’ he shouts to Kingsley and Jerry. ‘Run!’
The gun is trapped between Sebastien’s and Dougie’s bodies as Dougie, cursing and yelling, kicks out. Kingsley and Jerry clamber to their feet as I fly from my hiding place to stand in front of the counter. Sebastien, lying across Dougie, forces Dougie’s arm above his head.
‘Nate!’ he shouts. ‘Get in here!’
Nate, face bloodied, crawls a few paces before collapsing onto his side. Jerry and Kingsley seem to have no more idea what to do to help than I do. Dougie, one hand with the gun still above his head, goes limp.
‘Get your finger off the trigger,’ Sebastien says.
When Dougie lifts his other hand, the knife flashes under the lights.
Sebastien curses and then, still holding onto Dougie, he rolls.
A sickening crunch. Dougie screams. The gun falls to the floor and the men roll again.
A clatter as the knife skids and hits the leg of a chair.
Sebastien, one arm held against his body, scrambles to his feet and kicks the gun away before grasping Dougie’s shoulder and throwing him onto his front.
As Dougie groans, Sebastien pulls his arm behind his back and holds it with his knee.
‘You’ve busted my wrist!’ Dougie shouts.
Sebastien increases the pressure on Dougie’s back. ‘Shut up or I’ll break the other one.’
‘Sebastien …’
My voice is a croaky whisper but he freezes. Looks over his shoulder.
‘Why are you here?’ ‘I couldn’t leave.’
Sebastien opens his mouth and slams it shut. He glances at the blood seeping through his shirt and jacket. ‘Fuck.’
‘Let me—’
‘Stay back.’ When Dougie groans, Sebastien presses his knee harder into his back. ‘I don’t want you near him.’
Nate, on his hands and knees again, pushes himself upright before walking a wobbly line towards us. Grateful to have something to do, I take a chair from one of the stacks and carry it to him.
‘He pistol whipped me.’ Nate touches the side of his head and winces when he sees the blood on his hand. ‘Concussion.’ He blinks a few times, looks around. ‘Where are the others? Where is Ange?’
‘They’re safe.’ I take his arm. ‘Please, Nate, sit down.’
He does as I ask and then, white as a sheet, puts his head in his hands. ‘I left the mess to find Seb.’
‘Nate.’ Sebastien, still holding Dougie, is paler than he was. ‘Can you help or not?’
‘Give me a sec, buddy.’
Kingsley picks up Dougie’s metal bar and walks towards Sebastien. ‘I’ll ride shotgun.’
‘Keep back.’
Kingsley stops a few metres away but is closer than anyone else. ‘Did you really parachute in?’
Sebastien presses his arm closer to his chest. ‘I hitched a lift.’
‘Guns, parachutes, Russians.’ Kingsley shakes his head. ‘What the hell is going on around here?’
Nate and Sebastien exchange a glance.
‘You can’t talk about what happened tonight,’ Nate says.
‘You can’t keep thirty witnesses quiet.’
‘Dougie had a drug-induced brain snap and we don’t know anything else,’ Nate says firmly. ‘That’s our story.’
Jerry looks from Nate to Sebastien. ‘We know that’s not true.’
‘You’ll get the support of your government,’ Nate says. ‘Full debrief, counselling, an all-expenses-paid holiday, whatever you need. When it’s safe to talk, they’ll let you know about it.’
‘What about Dougie?’ Kingsley asks. ‘He held a gun to Seb’s head. He could’ve killed him.’
I’m suddenly nauseous. ‘He could have.’
Sebastien looks to Nate and jerks his head. ‘Get Lisse out.’
‘No.’ I shake my head. Swallow. ‘I want to stay.’
Jerry takes a wide berth around Dougie, links his arm through mine and holds on tightly. ‘We can freak out together.’
‘How did you know to come?’ I ask Sebastien.
‘Dougie sent a message to his handler this morning.’
Kingsley steps around Dougie and leans over Sebastien. ‘You’re bleeding like a sacrificial lamb. Let me take a look.’
‘It can wait.’
‘It can’t.’
‘Kingsley stays here.’ Sebastien turns to Jerry. ‘Go and get Clarissa and the medics. While Nate is down, I’ll need Summer.’
‘No problem,’ Jerry says.
‘Lisse, get me cable ties. Ask Tran to find an internal room for Dougie. Tell someone to secure Dougie’s bedroom and office. No one goes in there.’
‘What about Dougie’s arm?’ Kingsley asks.
‘Splint and bandage it later.’
‘What if it’s displaced.’
‘I snapped it clean.’
Kingsley groans a laugh. ‘Anything more you want?’
‘Give me my phone. Find someone to disarm the gun.’
‘Give it to me!’ Dougie screams. ‘I’ll kill myself!’
Sebastien’s face has lost the small amount of colour it had. ‘Be quiet or I’ll break your neck.’
‘Comfort food.’ Jerry nods to himself. ‘That’s what we need. Soon as I get back, I’ll get onto that.’