‘I’ll turn around.’
‘No, there’s a cab over there. You go on. Should we call the police?’
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘Not yet.’
She jumped out of the car, the lights turned green, I took off and I saw the cab driving away without her. But all I could think about was getting to Damien.
24
As I crossed the Harbour Bridge I looked up at the glittering ramparts around Circular Quay, wondering if Damien was sitting up there on one of those bright ledges with his newly pregnant wife, sipping champagne. And I had a blinding image of myself bursting in on them, and hurling him off, out into the night.
I parked some way beyond his entrance and walked back, breathing deeply, trying to calm myself, and reached the glass doors just behind two couples, chatting cheerfully together. One of the men spoke loudly into the speaker, and I heard Damien’s name. Then the door clicked open and I was following them in. They oohed and aahed in the lobby just as Mary and I had done. Another pale figure was plying through the water in the pool overhead. I went on to the lift and pressed the button, and they all piled in behind me.
I noticed that they were eyeing me dubiously as they got into the lift, and I supposed I must look a bit dishevelled. I said, sounding unnaturally jolly, ‘Twenty-eight, yes? Damien and …’ I suddenly couldn’t remember her name. My head was spinning.
‘Lauren, yes,’ the one who’d spoken into the entry phone said. ‘Are you feeling all right?’
I wiped a hand through my hair and tucked the half of my shirt that had come out back into my trousers. ‘Yes, yes, fine.’ The lift was accelerating skyward.
‘Quite a surprise!’ I said. They looked blank. ‘About the baby?’
‘Baby? What baby?’
‘Well-Lauren’s baby.’
The women both squealed. ‘Lauren’s pregnant? So that’s what this is all about! She sounded so mysterious on the phone!’
‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘You didn’t know? I’ve spoiled the surprise. Don’t let on, will you?’
The lift sighed to a halt and everyone spilled out to greet the waiting Lauren, who kissed them all in turn and then stared at me with a puzzled half-smile.
‘Josh?’
‘Hi, Lauren,’ I said, conscious of the others waiting to see how this was going to go. ‘I need to have a word with Damien. It’s extremely urgent.’
‘Well … but he’s not here. Someone called, his friend. He needed Damien urgently too. He left fifteen minutes ago. Is this the same thing? What on earth is going on?’
‘Which friend was that, Lauren?’ I said, and I realised that the tone of my voice was alarming her.
‘Marcus, Marcus Fenn. Damien said he had to go over there right away, to help him, some kind of emergency. What-’ But I had turned away and was thumping the lift button. The doors slid open and I jumped in.
Something had happened on the Harbour Bridge, an accident of some kind, and all the northbound traffic was being forced into one single lane. I swore and beat my hand in frustration on the wheel and the minutes ticked by as we slowly edged forward. I tried phoning Anna but got only her answering service. At last I was past the obstacle and speeding on through North Sydney towards Castlecrag. When I finally turned down into The Citadel I saw a small BMW standing outside Marcus’s house. I pulled up beyond it and as I flung open my door I heard a woman’s scream. I ran to the top of the entrance drive and saw the front door of the house crash open and Anna come tumbling out, silhouetted against the light. A second figure followed-Damien, but a Damien possessed, roaring like an enraged animal. He brought her down with a flying tackle and I leaped towards them, lost my footing on the slippery moss, and crashed on top of them. We struggled for a moment, then Damien disentangled himself and stumbled upright. For a second he stared down at me, eyes wild, open mouth gasping for breath, then turned and ran back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.
Anna was lying beside me on the wet stone, choking. When I put an arm around her and tried to get her upright I felt her whole body racked by convulsive sobs. I held her as they slowly subsided. She was trying to swallow, a hand clutched at her throat, her face distorted in the shadowy light.
‘Oh … Josh!’ she finally managed. ‘He tried … to kill me … his hands round my throat … and all the time saying he was sorry …’
She turned her face against my chest and began to sob again. I stroked her head, soothing her like a baby.
Finally she pulled away and said, more collected now, her voice hoarse, ‘I couldn’t get a taxi and decided to walk back, but then I got lost in the winding streets … when I finally got here the front door was still open and I went inside. In the back room Marcus was sitting in his chair, Damien crouching beside him. As soon as our eyes met I saw that he knew that Marcus had told us what they’d done. I started to back away, and he called after me to stay, softly, like not to scare me, but then getting angry. I turned and ran. He caught me in the living room … We fell, his hands round my neck, and he was shaking me and choking me, telling me he was sorry he had to do this. There was an empty bottle by my hand. I hit Damien with it and he looked so surprised and annoyed, rubbing his head, and I managed to get up again and run for the door …’
‘Can you stand up? I’m going to call the police and an ambulance for you.’
‘Josh!’ She gripped my arm. ‘I don’t know if Marcus was alive. He was slumped in the chair-like he was dead.’
I tried to think. Had I killed him? I said, ‘You go and wait in the car and I’ll go round to the terrace to try and see.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
She insisted, and we found the narrow path that led down the side of the house towards the rear. We had to push our way through wet branches and several times lost our footing, but eventually we found ourselves on the edge of the terrace. Light spilled out onto the paved surface through the French windows. We walked over and looked in. There was Marcus, just as Anna had said, slumped in his throne, his pale face tipped forward and to one side, as if asleep. He was no longer wearing the lab coat, and the left arm of his shirt was rolled up above the elbow.
And there, too, was Damien, seated in the armchair at his side, crouching forward as if trying to fix something that I couldn’t make out. He raised his head and saw us, and for a moment our eyes met and he gave us what appeared to be a sad smile. I could see now what he’d been doing; his left sleeve was rolled up too, and he was pressing the needle of a syringe into his forearm.
I grabbed the door handle and tried to open it, but it was locked and of a heavy, solid construction. I rattled and banged it and called to him to stop, but he took no notice. We watched helplessly as he went on with what he was doing. I got out my phone and rang for help, then I stepped back and charged with my shoulder. The door burst inward, its glass panels shattering all over the floor as I stumbled in. Anna followed me, and I told her to go and open the front door to meet the ambulance.
I squatted beside Damien, who was staring at the broken door with eyes bright with tears, preoccupied with some internal experience I couldn’t share. The syringe was empty, and I had no idea what he had taken. I asked him, but he just closed his eyes and smiled. His face had become flushed, and there was a purple bruise forming on the side of his forehead where Anna had hit him. Then something changed. His face darkened and took on a glow of sweat, and he whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Josh. Really.’
By the time the ambulance arrived I’d found the bottle on the floor beside Marcus, with his hand-printed labeclass="underline" Digitalis (Thevetia peruviana). I gave it to the medics as they went to work on Damien. Marcus, it seemed, was already dead.
Anna drew me aside as we stood watching them. ‘What are we going to say, Josh?’
We were discussing this in whispers when the first cops arrived, two uniformed men who took us out to the front room. One sat with us, taking down names and addresses, while the other spoke to the ambos. Then plainclothes police came in, and eventually Detective Sergeant Maddox.