The Hunting (17 page)

But how had she known to come to
his
house? How had she known to target him? How did she even know where his house was? What sinister motive did she have? Had she come to kill him? He pursed his lips. Certainly he knew that he’d do that, if their roles were reversed.

What had they seen in his house? They had been in the
gallery
. Clearly they would know exactly what the objects on display were and he knew she’d seen her photograph. Had quite a reaction to it by all accounts. Serve her damn well right. But who were the other kids? Where had the darn dog come from? What was missing?

His BlackBerry bleeped.

‘What?’

It was his personal assistant back in Spurlake.

‘Sir? You will never guess who the yacht is registered to.’

‘Who?’

‘Reverend Schneider.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘No, sir. I have been trying to locate him. Seems he left town today in a hurry.’

‘You don’t say.’

Strindberg shut the phone off and turned around.

Genie Magee and Schneider working together now? Impossible. But stranger bedfellows had happened before.

He started to walk back towards the house. He’d have to arrange for a new security team. Genie Magee had been there to give him a message. He got it. Next time he’d be ready for her.

She wanted trouble? She’d get it, in spades.

R
enée was wearing a cap she’d nicked from a biker and grinning as she sold her cushions. Even Moucher was in on the act, guarding the money and precious pile of cushions as Rian inflated them with a foot pump he’d borrowed and Genie waved people down trying to get their custom.

She couldn’t believe just how many obese people in tight black leather you could cram into one town. It was disturbing.

They’d discovered one of the headliners was an Eagles cover band and someone really famous they’d never heard of who’d had two chart toppers about twenty-five years ago.

Rian had an argument with an old bald guy as to the merits of Led Zeppelin versus Nirvana. He’d never really listened to much of either, but nevertheless he liked winding the guy up.

Every ferry arrival spilled out a few hundred more oldsters on Harleys or big mamas wearing inappropriate costumes. They drove old Chevrolets and Buicks cruising towards Gibsons Landing and Dougal Park, where the actual concert was going on. The traffic was way more than tiny Langdale could cope with, but Renée was right, those asses were going to need inflatable cushions on those hard seats in the concert area or on the grass. They were performing a life-saving service here.

Renée had raised the price to four bucks when she realized she was selling them so fast.

Genie sold four to three rockers in a fancy Mini Clubman and their dog, who got just a bit too excited when she saw Moucher.

Moucher gave back as good as he got on the barking stakes.

‘Do we know who Jenner Judge is?’ Rian asked Genie, as an old guy in a black leather hat stopped to buy a cushion.

‘
I’m going to kill my man unless he gets me first
,’ Genie sang. ‘Come on, you must have heard that one.’

The old guy laughed and sang another line, ‘
He’d said he’d leave her before I got old, so I helped him out and left her cold
. That’s one mean girl, that Jenner Judge.’

‘See, Ri? Lyrics are cool.’

Rian shook his head. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘Neil Young played here last year and Ry Cooder the year the before,’ the old guy told them as he wiped the sweat from his hat band. ‘But Jenner Judge gets my mojo working, not that I exactly remember where my mojo is.’ He laughed. ‘Never miss a Gibsons Rockfest. Thanks for the cushion, guys. Real life-saver. See you there.’ He left still grinning.

Genie smiled as she turned to Rian. ‘My grandmother would pay huge bucks to go see Jenner Judge. I never realized how wicked the words are till now. No wonder she liked her. Grandma Munby had a weird sense of humour.’

‘I think I kind of missed out on this genre,’ Rian stated as he pumped air into yet more cushions.

‘It’s more Country Rock than Blue Grass. See the hockey mom in the Amy Winehouse hairdo by the coffee shop?’

‘Yeah.’

‘No smirking. She bought six cushions. She has five kids and she brought them all. You see her bumper sticker?
Shoot first – divorce later
.’

‘Nice. Hockey moms scare me.’

‘I didn’t know old people even went to rock concerts. Aside from the kids they brought, I don’t think there’s anyone here under forty.’

‘We should come back next year for the jazz festival,’ Renée suggested. ‘Hell, we’ll need more stock.’

Genie laughed. ‘Don’t get carried away, girl. This is a one-time emergency thing.’

Renée stuck out her tongue.

‘I’m still worried,’ Rian said. ‘We ain’t exactly in hiding. Strindberg will have contacted Reverend Schneider by now and…’

Genie shook her head. ‘Don’t talk about it. I’m still spooked. I can’t believe he has my photo on his wall. Sick bastard, gloating over me being transmitted. Seeing that photo there, I think that’s the biggest shock I’ve ever, ever had.’

Rian nodded. It had freaked him out plenty. Seeing Genie in the frame, her arms and part of her head already disintegrating. It was like a still from a horror movie and she’d looked so calm, so utterly vulnerable and beautiful. His heart had nearly broken in half just looking at that picture.

‘We got a plan?’ Rian asked her. ‘Aside from making our fortune and not hiding?’

‘We’re hiding by not hiding. They wouldn’t expect us to still be here, selling stuff out in the open. Renée’s right, we have to change our luck. But we do have to make contact with Marshall again.’

‘Later,’ Rian said. ‘They can trace phone calls, remember; we don’t want Marshall to get into trouble again.’

‘I still can’t get over the one place we ended up was at Strindberg’s house. It’s like we are doomed. Everything we do takes us in a circle back to the Fortress,’ Genie remarked.

Two huge women in kaftans stopped and wiped their brows as they struggled up the hill on foot.

‘Inflatable cushions. Save your ass for rock ’n’ roll,’ Genie shouted out.

One woman laughed, then dug out a twenty note.

‘How much, honey? Love the hair. That’s a neat skunk streak. You do that yourself?’

Skunk? She had no idea what they were talking about. She just smiled instead.

‘Four bucks each. Already inflated – the air is free.’

‘We’ll take two.’

Genie smiled as she handed the cushions over with change. ‘You have a great day now.’

‘We will, honey. We sure will.’

Renée returned for more; she looked really happy. She waited for the women to go and then produced a wad of cash and stacks of Loonies.

‘We’re making a fortune. Give me another twenty.’

Rian pointed to a pile behind him. ‘Grab ’em.’

‘You done this before, Genie?’ Renée asked her, seeing the pile of coins and notes already stashed under Moucher’s guardianship.

‘No, but I once sold cookies from my front garden. My ma wouldn’t let me go anywhere, so I had this great plan to raise money and run away to Playland. I was ten. Sold a lot of cookies. Then she confiscated the money, saying she had to buy flour and sugar and stuff. I didn’t speak to her for six weeks after that.’

‘Figures,’ Renée said. ‘At least you know she’s always been a bitch. Didn’t suddenly turn, like my ma.’

Rian grinned. ‘Genie’s a sales natural. She only has to smile and they grab them.’

A truck went by, honked the air horn at them and some horny old guy waved. Renée shouted something rude back and he laughed as he drove on.

‘Save your asses for rock ’n’ roll,’ Genie yelled as more people approached.

Renée laughed. ‘God kill me if I ever grow an ass as big as any of these.’ She gathered up her cushions. ‘I’m going to the corner.’

‘Only three hundred left,’ Rian informed them and they both groaned.

It was later that she suddenly realized why so many people were commenting on her hair. Genie was in the washroom in the coffee bar after she’d ordered more lattés. She really was a skunk head. She had a pure-white streak now from her forehead right across to the back of her head. Wasn’t even straight. She ran her fingers through her short fuzz of hair and realized it was a good fingernail long now on top. The ends were normal enough but that white streak was weird. She prayed she could dye it. Made her look like a freak.

‘How’d you get it so white?’ a girl asked coming up behind her. ‘Really cool at the back.’ She was staring at Genie’s head like it was on show.

Genie tried to look at the back of her head, nervous now.

‘What? I can’t see anything.’

‘It’s like a half-moon. That’s what it looks like. You get it done here?’

Genie shook her head. ‘Natural.’

‘Really? Wow. It’s crazy. You’re really beautiful, y’know. Saw you selling cushions. We’ve been watching you from the boutique next door. My boss can’t believe how many you sell.’ She smiled, suddenly awkward. ‘Just came in for coffee. Crazy day. You ever see so many …’ She tried to think of a politically correct way of saying ‘big’ people.

‘Lard asses,’ Genie chipped in. ‘Not in one place, no.’

The girl laughed. ‘Even our XXL jeans don’t fit them and they’re like humungous.’

Genie looked at the girl. She was dressed in a petite blue cardigan, a red top with bright-blue Diesel jeans. She was probably the same age as her – tiny, with bright-green eyes. Cute.

‘You know the big house up the coast aways? White, huge, gets lit up at night?’

‘Mr Strindberg’s place?’

‘Yeah. Him.’

Her expression changed. ‘Don’t go near him. My cousin, Sara Bryant, went to see him about a job as his assistant and no one ever saw her again. Not the first either. He denied he ever saw her but she sent me a text from inside his house. The police protect him, but no one likes him. He’s rich and he drives around in a real fast car, but don’t go near. Promise me.’

Genie nodded. ‘I’m not his type. Skunk girls ain’t sweet enough.’

The girl smiled. ‘Yeah, you definitely look too tough for him.’

Genie smiled and headed out of the door. ‘I still got three hundred cushions to sell. See you later maybe. Say hi when you finish.’

Genie collected the coffees on the way out. She wondered if that Sara girl was sitting on a Fortress server, or if she was one of those who’d exploded on the Synchro wall. One thing was sure, that girl was never going to see her cousin again.

Renée was waiting for her to come out. The cushions had almost all gone. Rian was making Moucher take a leak. Genie knew something had happened.

Renée took her coffee and showed Genie a leaflet she’d picked up. ‘Some private security cops handing these out up by the concert venue.’

Genie looked at the flyer. It was a picture of her with her shaved head.

Have you seen this girl? Genie has been missing since August. Reward offered. Last seen in Gibsons/Langdale area. Parents desperate to find her.

There was a phone number to call. The photo showed her wearing the white cotton vest they made her put on at the Fortress, but almost anyone she had sold a cushion to would know it was her. They owed her nothing; someone would say something and point them in the right direction.

‘Damn.’

‘We have to go,’ Rian stated as he returned with Moucher. ‘We made over two thousand bucks. Can you believe that? Renée’s a genius.’

‘Yes I am, but we still have to go. Can we get you a hat?’

Genie realized that she was a liability. Those security guys would be coming down the hill any moment now. She was looking across the road and there was the girl she’d just been talking to inside the coffee bathroom. She was staring at her from the boutique window. Genie waved.

‘Give me a moment. Take Moucher down to the ferry and buy some tickets, OK? I’ll see you there.’

‘Where are we going?’ Renée asked.

‘Horseshoe Bay. Then we’ll decide. Go. We have to separate right now.’

Genie left her coffee with Renée and ran across the road to the shop. She didn’t look back. It was bad luck to look back.

The girl smiled shyly as she entered.

‘You got a wig?’ Genie asked.

The girl laughed. ‘A wig?’

Genie quickly thought up a good lie. ‘My ma will kill me if she sees me with my hair like this. She doesn’t even know I cut it. I just found out she’s coming to get me.’

The girl snatched at look at her employer, biting her lip at little with awkwardness. ‘We don’t do wigs.’

The woman at the counter frowned. ‘I don’t hold with deceiving parents, but if I was your mother and I saw you with skunk hair and wearing those charity clothes, I’d probably disown you too.’

Genie looked at her incredulously. She had no reply to that. It was harsh.

‘So, take her upstairs, Gemma, and find her something. I have some wigs. Nothing modern, you understand. For personal use. Find one and you can leave a deposit. Fifty bucks.’

Genie fished fifty bucks out of her jeans then turned to Gemma. ‘I’ll need a dress and a cardigan. One like you’re wearing will suit fine.’ It was the tiny blue wool cardigan with cute pearly buttons.

The woman looked at Genie and made an assessment. ‘You’re in big trouble, aren’t you?’

Genie shrugged. ‘My ma doesn’t like my friends. She said make a choice. I guess I made a choice.’

The woman clucked her tongue. ‘There’s two nice dresses in the back. You’ll look like a princess. How much money you got? I saw you selling cushions – a lot of cushions.’

‘We’re getting money together for a deposit,’ Genie told her. ‘No one will rent us anything without six weeks down.’

‘Well, you know how to sell, I can tell you that. If you ever need a job, come back and see me. Meanwhile, I can get you fitted out for cost – two hundred, and that includes shoes. You can’t wear those.’

Genie looked down at her worn, still-damp sneakers and concurred. ‘Deal.’

The woman smiled. ‘Your mother won’t recognize you.’

Genie smiled. ‘That’s the plan.’