Peter Corris - The January Zone

‘He hasn’t got time, he’s on in a few minutes. I’d better get up there.’

Things were taking shape up at the front table. There were carafes and glasses of water; chairs were being pushed into place. Peter January, the hostess and a couple of other dignitaries were chatting in front of the microphone. I couldn’t hear anything which made me look around for the PA set-up. In the corner of the courtyard near the gate a man in blue overalls was working with electric cables and a loudspeaker. He glanced up at the table and nodded; someone tapped the microphone and a loud sharp noise rose above the din of talking, drinking and laughing. People heard it and the noise began to subside.

People formed groups and drifted to the sides; space opened up in the courtyard and I got a clear view to the table where January, the woman I took to be Mrs Clephane and two other men were seated. January was in the middle; an old man with a creamy white mane of hair and a luxuriant white moustache was at the end in front of the microphone.

‘Who’s that?’ Someone near me whispered.

‘Judge Calvin Clyde,’ came a hushed reply. ‘He had a triple by-pass and a change of heart at 78. He’s a liberal now.’

They were almost ready. It looked as if Judge Clyde was going to speak first. He shuffled some notes. I caught a movement to my right and looked across at the sound technician. He was looking tense and still fiddling with something although the slight hum from the microphone sounded steady and right. I edged closer and saw three things in one overloaded glance: he was holding an object like a electrical junction box in one hand and in the other he held another wire poised to make contact; the French cuffs of an expensive business shirt poked out an inch below the sleeves of his overall; and he was wearing one of the $3000 watches I’d seen in the gift shop that morning.

I yelled something and made a rush towards him. He saw me and panic seemed to jolt through his body. He shoved the wire into the box and dropped the apparatus as he backed away. Heads were turning towards me but the old man with the white hair was on his feet now and reaching for the microphone.

‘No!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t touch the mike!’ I bullocked my way towards the electrics. Maybe the judge was near-sighted and deaf. He touched the microphone. There was a deafening crack and a flash of intense white light blazed in the courtyard. People screamed, tables were upset and water jugs crashed. That was bad-enough electrically charged water splashed around and a dozen people could fry. I brushed the last person out of my way, bent and yanked out every plug and socket I could get my hands to. The Judge and at least two others were down; men were swearing and women were screaming. I saw Trudi propping up a sobbing fat woman. I ran for the gate.

Billy Spinoza had joined me before I reached the gate and he went through it first.

‘The car!’ he yelled.

We ran for the Mercedes and he had it moving before I could get the door closed.

‘The Electra,’ Spinoza said. ‘You see it?’

I didn’t know what an Electra was but I didn’t like to show my ignorance so I nodded and drew in several deep breaths. The Merc was really travelling now, barrelling down the wide, straight tree-lined street but heading for a roundabout which had a small forest growing on it. Spinoza slewed around a small, slow car and I caught a glimpse of a big, blue car ahead. I decided it was the Electra; I also decided that if it got to the roundabout too far ahead of us we could lose it. Spinoza seemed to think the same. He floored the accelerator and the Mercedes went faster as if it was suddenly going downhill.

We gained on the Electra. Spinoza threw the car into the sweeping roundabout, bluffing other contenders for space and racing through the gears. His dark, lean face was set in a grin as if this was the only kind of driving he really liked. Out of the last lurching, tilting turn and the blue car was less than a hundred yards ahead but drawing away.

‘Super-charged,’ Spinoza said. ‘Shit!’ He gave the Mercedes all the power available but the Electra gained. Spinoza hammered on the wheel and hissed his disgust through his teeth. ‘He’ll take a bridge and be long gone. Sorry, man, we lose.’

‘Slow down,’ I said. ‘It’s not your fault.’

He eased back and the trees and posts started to whiz past less frequently. ‘Guess not. Did you see the cocksucker?’

I told him that I’d been looking at other things like shirts and watches and he nodded as he took a turn. ‘I think there were two of them, though,’ I said. ‘There was someone up front giving him the nod. Tall, blonde guy.’

Billy grinned. ‘There’s so many just like that. If you ask me, the world’s over-stocked with tall, blonde, bad guys. Did you ah… see what happened?’

‘No. January could be in an ashtray now for all I know.’

We had to leave the car more than a hundred yards from the condominium and flash our IDs and talk fast four or five times before we could get through to the courtyard. The fire engines were there and the police cars with the flashing lights and the TV news trucks. We shoved people aside and fought our way through to the table where paramedics were squatting dealing with shocked people. Bits of glass from the broken bottles and jugs were strewn around behind the table which was blackened at the end where the microphone had been. A large pot plant standing near was scorched and there was a smell I hadn’t had in my nostrils for a long time-burning flesh.

Spinoza registered it too. ‘Like ‘Nam,’ he said.

‘Malaya.’

Trudi broke from a group and dived towards me. ‘Cliff! Cliff! Oh, God…’

I practically had to catch her. Her dress was smeared with blood and dirt but she was intact. ‘Where’s Peter?’

Her wide smile threatened to turn into an hysterical laugh but she checked it. ‘He’s gone to hospital but he’s fine. He was the hero of the hour. He calmed people down, organised everything. He gave a Senator mouth to mouth resuscitation and brought him back.’

‘Son of a bitch,’ Spinoza said softly.

‘The old judge?’

‘He’s dead. He was deaf and confused. But you saved the rest of us. That water from the jugs…it was everywhere!’

‘I wish I’d been quicker. So what’s the damage, apart from the Judge?’

‘The Senator. I think he must’ve touched the Judge when he was live. Some people got burns. Peter did. And cuts from falling on the glass.’

‘Could be worse then,’ I said. ‘You’re okay?’

‘I suppose. I was giggling a while ago. I suppose that’s shock.’

Spinoza moved a canvas chair forward. ‘Better sit down, Ms Bell. I’ll look see a bit, Cliff. Send you a drink?’

‘Two.’ Trudi sat and grabbed my arm. ‘Make it three,’ I said.

‘You didn’t catch them, did you?’ Trudi wiped her face with her sleeve and transferred some blood. I got out a handkerchief and wiped it off. Somehow I felt strange being at the scene and not having any blood on me.

‘No, we didn’t catch them.’

‘How did you know?’

I told her how and a waiter arrived with some Scotch in a decanter, a pitcher of ice and some glasses. We drank and sat quietly while the paramedics tidied up-a couple of people went out on stretchers.

‘What happened to them?’ I said.

‘There was a bit of a panic. Some people got trampled.’

The courtyard was emptying when Spinoza came up with a policeman, Mike Borg and another man who was holding a video camera.

Spinoza made a drink for Borg, the man with the camera and himself. ‘You all right, Ms Bell? Good. We got us a very useful gentleman here, Cliff.’