Death is Forever

trying to think. But it was hard to think while Jason Street poured Australian slang into one ear, the night poured silence into the other, and painkillers blurred everything.
    Frowning, van Luik stared through the open door to the bedroom across the hall. Limned by light from the street, his wife stirred and rolled over in bed. Her hair was a pale silver glow in the darkness. If she was awake, she hadn’t called out to him. Thirty-eight years of marriage had taught her to leave her husband’s business to him. If the problem that loomed in the middle of the night took five minutes or five days, she rarely commented. Or perhaps she simply didn’t notice.
    Van Luik sighed soundlessly. Once he’d relished alarms and intrusions at odd hours. They were proof of his importance to the plans of corporations and nations. Now he regarded the job at hand—that of bringing the elusive Cole Blackburn to bay—as one more hoop to jump through. Van Luik was tired of hoops and trials of strength. He simply wanted it done.
    Finished.
    “Are they still in Darwin?” Street asked across the thousands of miles.
    “They checked out of the hotel before the men found them. No one checked into any other Darwin hotels under the names of Blackburn or Windsor. No one rented a vehicle under those names. And we believe Blackburn might be wounded.”
    “Gunshot?”
    “Yes,” van Luik said.
    “Then he’ll avoid doctors.”
    “We are assuming the two are still in Darwin.”
    “Maybe,” Street said. “And maybe they’re using false papers. Her father would be able to get them anything along that line they wanted.”
    “Agreed. I have asked McLaren to enlist his contacts in ASIO. They will use photos to assist the search.”
    “McLaren, eh? Was he the wanker who hired the girls Blackburn chewed up?” Street asked sardonically.
    “Mr. Blackburn is a formidable brawler, from all accounts.”
    “What do you expect them to say, that he fought like an old woman?”
    Van Luik bit back a curse as pain stabbed. “Next time, you will take care of the matter yourself.”
    “With pleasure, mate. But first we have to find the bastard.”
    “What is the best way for him to reach the Windsor station?”
    “There’re only two ways. You rent a plane and fly in or you rent a Jeep and drive. I’ll bet on the Jeep. He’ll need it at the station anyway.”
    “What about a bus?”
    “To the station? Not a chance. It’s way off the only highway.”
    “Could he walk there?” van Luik asked.
    “Not this time of year, mate. He’d be dead of heatstroke before a day, and the tart would pack it in after a few hours. Tell McLaren to shut down Darwin’s rentals. I’ll take care of Derby.”
    “Derby?”
    “It’s the only other place in northwestern Australia you can rent a Jeep. This isn’t bloody London.”
    Silence, followed by a single word. “Street?”
    “What.”
    “Find them. Make certain they discover nothing before the monsoon makes it impossible to prospect. Failing that, destroy the mine.”
    “What if it’s the size of bloody Argyle?”
    “We think not. We have reason to believe it is a pothole placer deposit of the sort that could be destroyed quite easily.”
    “What makes you think so?”
    Van Luik grimaced and counted his heartbeats in the violent pain behind his eyes. “You have your faults, Mr. Street, but geological incompetence isn’t one of them. Do you really believe Abelard Windsor could have hidden something the size of Namibia’s beach deposits from you for the past ten years?”
    “Not a chance, mate. Not a bloody one.”
    Grimly van Luik pursued the main point. “The wet may be enough of a delay for our purposes. Many things can change in the span of five months. Important things. Things that are crucial to maintaining the balance of power within the cartel. Keep Blackburn off the station.”
    “That could be real tricky, mate. Accidents happen. I might end up killing the girl trying to stop him.”
    “What is the English saying, beggars cannot be choosers?” Van Luik pinched his nose. “Whatever happens, make certain it looks like an accident. If you end up killing her, it would be far better if the body disappeared. I will be waiting for your call.”
    Street started to speak, heard the click as the connection was broken, then hung up hard. After a moment he dialed another number, waited, and spoke again.
    “G’day, luv. You got any Yanks asking after your Rover?”
    “No Yanks, just a