Headhunters

Chapter Eighteen

They set off immediately. There was no light now, and he couldn’t see a thing. He could feel Matty sitting next to him. She had pressed herself up close. He spent the first five minutes probing the cuffs, but the mechanism was solid and he knew that he would be unable to unlock them without a tool. There was no point in struggling, so he moved on to making them both as comfortable as possible. They had pressed themselves up against the wall, with the arch of the back right wheel up against Milton’s right side. Milton brought his legs up a little to brace himself against the swinging motion of the van. His right wrist was connected to Matty’s left, and they laid their arms down with only a little play between them.

He stretched out his free hand and pressed as much of the wall as he could reach. It felt solid.

“It’ll be okay,” Milton said. “Try not to worry. I’ll get us out of this.”

She didn’t respond, and Milton didn’t press. He used the quiet to think. He couldn’t narrow down the list of people who might want to do this to him. It was a long list, and no one stood out any more than anyone else. He let his mind wander over the problem and realised that he had been too restrictive in his thinking. What if it wasn’t anything to do with him? What if this was something to do with Matilda, instead?

“Matty,” he said.

“What?”

“Can you think of anyone who might have a reason to kidnap you?”

“Me?”

“Think. Is there anyone who holds a grudge against you?”

“No. A couple of ex-boyfriends I didn’t split with on the best of terms, but they’re not the kind of guys who’d want to do something crazy like this, not even for a joke.”

“What about Harry? Has he upset anyone recently?”

“You know Harry. He’s too nice to have enemies.”

“What about rivals to the business? Any disputes, anything like that?”

“No. I mean, there have been some issues with the unions, but that’s usual.”

“What kind of issues?”

“There was a strike six months ago. The shearers said they wanted double the pay and stopped work until they got it. But they’re already making a lot of money, and the way Harry saw it, they weren’t growing the wool or looking after the sheep or the land — they just came in at the arse end of it and made all the money. Anyway, Harry and the other graziers near Booligal flew in Kiwis to take over. You can imagine how that went down. There were a lot of problems. Lots of fights between the locals and the Kiwis, and those lads are tough bastards.”

“And?”

“And the strikers backed down.”

“You think they resent Harry?”

“He was the one who was on the TV. He was the spokesman. If they were going to go after anyone, I guess they’d go after him.” She paused. “But that was six months ago. It’s been good since then. Things have been patched up. I’ll give you two examples: Eric and Mervyn. They’re union boys, and you know how much they grumble. They were some of the first to stop working. Six months ago, you ask them what they think of my brother and they’d tell you he was a capitalist bastard screwing down the honest hard-working shearer. But you look at them now. Happy to have a beer with him, laugh at his jokes, best mates again.” She stopped. “No, John. I can’t see it. It just doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that they would do.”

Milton thought. It seemed unlikely, but it was worth keeping it in the back of his mind. Both of them had begged off coming out tonight. It wasn’t like either of them to turn down a night on the beer, especially one where Matilda was along for the ride. Maybe they wanted to get themselves out of the way. Was it possible? Maybe.

If he could understand the motive, it would help him work out the best way to proceed.

The van rumbled along and they were quiet for a moment.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“Anyone who’d want to do this to you?”

He paused. She knew nothing about what he had been doing for the last decade. Harry didn’t know, either, at least not the specifics. He had explained to him that he had been recruited into the intelligence services, but he had purposefully left it vague after that. It was better for all concerned, and there were some questions that Milton did not want to be asked. He realised, as he sat there next to Matilda, that he especially didn’t want her to ask him those questions.

“I’ve upset a few people through the years, just like anyone else.”

“And?”

“And I can’t say any more than that. Maybe this is about me. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s about Harry. Maybe it’s about you. We just have to stay calm, do what they say, and keep our eyes open.”