Jason was right.
It was the fourth floor. One of
the flat’s doors was open. From inside
there came the staccato bursts of talk and static from police radios. They
walked up to the door. Inside the flat there were three officers, in uniform.
"Who are you?" one asked, alert and faintly hostile.
By tacit consent, the three of them left it to Jason
to speak.
“We’re friends of the two men who live here. Luigi and Cody. He phoned us … “ Jason turned to the others
“… half an hour ago? I didn’t see the
message at once.”
“Why not?” The
hostility was stronger now.
“Well, duh! We
were asleep.” Jason gestured at the
darkness beyond the flat’s walkway.
“Wait here,” ordered the policeman.
“They’re not goin’ to be quick enough,” whispered
Keith. “While they’re checkin’ up, Lou
and Cody are getting further and further away.”
“What was the name of that policemen from Mt Macedon?”
asked Esmé. “If we could get hold of
him, he could help!”
“Yeah.” Keith
frowned. “Fuck! What was his name?”
“Something beginning with an F? No, it wasn’t …. It was ….”
“Colin! That’s his name. But I don’t have his number.”
“Well, maybe the police here could get hold of him.”
“Fuck them!” growled Keith. “Arseholes!
We’ll google the number.” His
face became intent.
Jason looked at him and thought, God, I love him. And then
thought, How can I think of that at a
time like this? And that was
immediately followed by What better time?
What better time to think of love when someone you care for is in danger of his
life?
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