Leah Giarratano - Vodka doesn't freeze

An air of expectancy filled the ballroom. Those invited knew they were a highly select group, and the ridiculous price they had paid as their entrance fee ramped up their expectations. Sebastian had promised them all a double delight. A live boy under fourteen. And a virgin. Jamaal could see the admiration in their faces as they drank and chatted in small groups – you have to hand it to Sebastian, he could imagine them saying; how does he do it?

It'sme, he wanted to scream at them all; I got the kid. You should all be kissing my feet, you cocksuckers.

Near the fireplace, where tonight a low fire provided cosy effect rather than real warmth, Sebastian stood looking particularly pleased. He leaned against the mantelpiece, immaculately groomed in a dark suit, speaking to his Japanese guests, a middle-aged millionaire and his elderly father, both predisposed to the same pleasures. He looked up when he saw Jamaal. The light left his eyes for just a moment when he took in Jamaal's clothes. Jamaal suppressed a smile as Sebastian beckoned him over.

'My very dear friend Jamaal. May I introduce you to Mr Smith and Mr Roberts?'

The Japanese men gave a slightly drunken giggle at their Anglo pseudonyms. They were looking forward to using these names with one another in the future when they wanted to recall the particular delights of this special evening.

Jamaal nodded and smiled at the men. Another tiny frown from Sebastian. Good. Jamaal knew he was supposed to bow to these guests, but he bowed to no-one.

'Mr Roberts, Mr Smith, please excuse me for a moment,' Sebastian said, bowing, giving Jamaal a sideways glance to emphasise that this was how to greet and leave these men. 'Jamaal and I must go and attend to the entertainment for the evening. Please make yourselves very comfortable. My home is your own. We will return shortly.'

Sebastian placed a big arm around Jamaal's shoulders, and, smiling affably, guided him from the room. They entered Sebastian's study, a luxurious, masculine room that overlooked the gardens on the left side of the property.

Sebastian dropped himself into one of his corpulent leather armchairs, and reached for a long cigar from a side table. Jamaal waited for the lecture. Sebastian just kept smiling, sending jets of blue smoke into the air.

'What?' Jamaal finally had to know.

'My friend, today has been a very good day.'

Jamaal could not have agreed less. He looked forward to telling this smiling bastard about the cops' questioning early today. Why should he be the only one with a burning gut?

'You want to go first, or should I?' Jamaal asked.

'I believe I will. I think that after I have spoken, you will be less dismayed about your ordeal with the police this morning.'

'You know about that.'

'Yes, Jamaal, but we've no need to worry about them any longer.' He paused for effect, and sucked again on the cigar. 'I told you I would take care of it, and I have. You see, the person who had been drawing the police ever closer to our world is now lying dead in the shed at the bottom of the garden.'

Jamaal started to the window, but he could not see the boatshed from this room. He turned back to Sebastian, stunned.

'I know!' Sebastian beamed at the look on Jamaal's face. 'I shot her myself. This evening. Just half an hour ago, in fact. I've had time for a lovely bath and to greet my guests, and all in all, I'm greatly looking forward to tonight.'

'Her? A woman?'

'Yes, yes. A female psychotherapist. She was very good, I believe. At one time, half of the Mosman tennis club was delving into their mummy-issues with her. She's been watching our activities for some time, and could really have hurt us very much. Fortunately, Jamaal,' he blew more smoke, 'I've taken care of that problem.'

Jamaal just stared at his boss. How did this guy get away with everything? Still, he thought, this was good news for both of them. He realised that his stomach didn't hurt so much any more. And there was more to come.

'Tonight, my friend, will be a celebration in more ways than one,' Sebastian continued. 'Although this bitch is dead, she has attracted more attention to us than is desirable. I've decided to sell this house and change the way we conduct our business. I'd like to be more… virtual about the way we do things from now on. I've determined that we shall expand our internet interests, and disband our little club. We can conduct such a business from anywhere on the planet, Jamaal, and frankly, I'm growing tired of Sydney at the present time. In short, my friend, what say you to a bit of a holiday, an extended overseas vacation?'

Jamaal just smiled. Praise Allah. Fuck my brother-in-law and my fat, lazy wife. He knew he was smart for staying loyal to Sebastian. Rewards come to those who wait, he reminded himself.

'That is good news, boss,' Jamaal said. 'I would like that very much. For now, though, I should go down to the shed. Make sure everything's tidy down there.' He wanted a look. They both knew it, and each understood the compulsion well.

'Thank you, Jamaal. I'd appreciate it very much, you know. Don't be too long, though. When you get back here we'll see the evening off with a bang.' He cleared his throat and smiled jovially. 'So to speak.' Jill crouched behind the rocky outcrop upon which she'd stood to peer into the boatshed, her back to the water, her face to the house. She'd sent the white-eyed girl packing with a sharp mental shake. This is no time for nightmares, she told herself.

A glance at her watch told her that Scotty should be arriving soon. He and the others would approach the house from the street; go in through the front doors with the warrant. For the fortieth time she wished she'd had the good sense to bring her radio or phone from the car. She knew what she'd rather have, however; and she adjusted the heavy weight of her gun in her pocket.

She figured she'd wait down here until she saw the cops' lights, and then make her way back up towards the house. She hoped Sebastian or Jamaal would run down this way, trying to escape the police at the front door. She'd be ready.

Jill alternately stretched her thighs. While she waited for Scotty, she listened to Sydney Harbour breathing behind her back.

She pretended the white-eyed girl was not crouched on the sand beside her. Jamaal left the house through the French doors in Sebastian's office in time to see the sensor lights at the opposite side of the building click off. He frowned. Who's out here? he wondered. The guests knew they weren't to go out the back of the building. Sebastian's nearest neighbours were Ethel and Beatrice Graham, a pair of spinster sisters who made it their mission in life to gossip about their neighbours with other neighbours. They would also call the police the moment a gathering became more audible than the gulls and the boats. The guests knew that within the house they were welcome to indulge in whatever took their fancy, but were not to venture outside unaccompanied. Even so, during past gatherings, Jamaal had several times had to usher the shy or the secretive out of the backyard and back into the ballroom.

He decided to go around the front of the house first, to ensure they had no uninvited guests. The front lawns stood darkly serene. The night slept quietly. He made his way around the other side of the house, avoiding the sensors for the spotlights he'd installed. Nothing around here. He inched to the rear of the home, moving through darkness, pressed against the walls. The light spilling from the ballroom windows splashed upon empty sandstone pavers and garden furniture. Anyone who might have been out here was not any longer.

From this vantage point, for at least a hundred years, the lights of Sydney Harbour had failed to bewitch very few. Jamaal didn't even notice them. Instead, he peered greedily at the boatshed, excitement mushrooming in his stomach and below it. He'd be alone with the body. Where did Sebastian shoot her? Did her face register surprise, the interfering fucking bitch? He moved from the shadows, needing to hurry now to the shed.