Detained

Now Darcy was confused, steamed buns? But so much about this day, this long night was confusing. “Where is he, Peter?”

“It’s chaotic here. But I’ll find him. There are bodies...” Peter’s voice failed. Darcy waited for him to come back on the line. “Some can’t be identified yet. They’re badly beaten or burned. We have to wait. I’m bringing him home. Tell Aileen and Bo, I’m bringing him home.”

Around 3am, Darcy crawled into the big bed. She lay on the edge near the window where she could watch the city wake. She heard Aileen tell Bo she was going home to change her clothes. She heard Bo talking to the butler.

They must know something soon.

When she closed her eyes the room swam, the bed floating, unanchored. She could feel hands grabbing her, pulling her from Will, dragging her away from the fighting. She could see him struggling to stand, blood dripping from his elbow. If she squeezed her eyes tight she could almost imagine his arms around her, feel him nuzzle the back of her neck, stroke her hair, thread his fingers through hers.

There was no point lying in bed. She was not going to sleep and she didn’t want to take a sedative. She got up, showered and dressed. Bo’s open-mouthed snores from the lounge room were an odd comfort. She took her laptop back to the bedroom. She’d finish the story the only way she could.

She pulled up the document and put her curser in front of the first line. She typed: Billionaire industrialist, Will Parker is presumed dead after being attacked by guards in Quingpu prison during an inmate led revolt.

If confirmed, his death happened only hours after evidence to prove his innocence on the charge of murder was presented to the Ministry of Justice.

She read back the whole story, logged on to the hotel Wi-Fi, opened email and filed the story with her wire service contact. It would make the early international news bulletins. When Bo woke she’d ask him to take her back to Quingpu.

Looking at her inbox, she noticed a queue of email messages. The usual junk her filter never managed to catch, her subscriptions, an invitation to Penny’s baby shower. A note from her real estate agent telling her the rent was going up. And a ‘how are you’ from Col Furrows, which demonstrated how numb she was feeling. He deserved an acid reply; she trashed his note instead.

There was an email from Andy and one from Brian. She opened Brian’s. A snipe about not telling him she was going to Shanghai. Another about her choice of wire service and how he’d have selected differently, followed by a strong suggestion she share her sources with Andy, and a reminder to be nice.

She binned that one too.

Andy’s message was less parentally judgemental but more annoying. What was she doing in Shanghai? Why didn’t she tell him she was coming? Where was she staying? They should meet up. His expense account could buy her dinner. What he didn’t say was ‘I’ll trade you one Peking Duck for your contacts inside Parker’. But that’s what he meant. Wait till he read the latest.

At 6am, a crash in the lounge room alerted her to the fact Bo was awake. He’d knocked a vase of flowers over. He looked at her with bleary eyes. “I’ll go home, wash. Then we go to Quingpu.”

“I’ll be ready.”

She had breakfast and waited. Her existence was this, waiting. When her phone rang, she was scared to answer it. Presumed dead was one step removed from dead for real, but it was Andy, not Peter.

“Darce, sister, little buddy. Who’s your source? Ministry of Justice is denying both the riot and Parker’s death. Where are you getting this from? Whoever it is don’t trust them. Why don’t you let me help you out? I’ve got contacts inside Parker, maybe I can—”

“Shut up, Andy. I don’t need your help.”

“You do. You don’t have a job, you’re freelancing for a wire service, and you’re off playing amateur detective in some dusty village. This isn’t a game you know. This is a man’s life, you can’t go crusading—”

“Shut up, Andy.”

“And you can’t annoy the Ministry of Justice if you want information out of them. They’ll never talk to you now.”

She pushed the balcony door open and stepped outside, the day’s heat already building. “I don’t need them.”

“I guess I can share my source there.” Andy had the temerity to sound conflicted about that, about tossing her a bone. It was like childhood all over again. Andy saying, “I guess you can borrow my skateboard”, then making sure it was never out of his sight so she could claim a turn.

“You’re not listening. I don’t need your help. I don’t need your source.”

“Darce, I know you think this is the way to get a good job offer—trust me, it’s not.”

She sighed and looked out at the outrageously pink globe of the Pearl Tower. “Yesterday I watched Will Parker get beaten by six armed prison guards.”

“What do you mean watched, you’ve seen tape? Geez girl, how did you get it? That’s explosive stuff, I can get it to air.”

“I didn’t see a recording. I was there.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was in Quingpu with Peter Parker.”