‘Thanks.’
I went and stood outside the hotel. Even for me, the sun felt searingly hot, as if it had moved a few thousand miles closer to the earth during the night. Everyone else who had a brain was obviously inside hiding from it, because the street was deserted. Further down, I saw four bronze statues next to a car park and went to take a look. Three were of men in suits, all old judging by the wrinkles, and the fourth – wearing a jumpsuit, heavy boots and a round helmet that covered his entire face – looked like an astronaut. There were plaques with tiny writing on them, probably describing what made these men so special, but I was beginning to feel sick in the sun and I knew I needed food. By the time I arrived at the Runway Bar, sweat was pouring off me from the humidity.
I went to the counter and immediately ordered water, gulping back the whole bottle as soon as it was handed to me. I decided on a burger, and took one of the free maps detailing the attractions in the town before finding a seat at a faded plastic table.
‘Youse a tourist?’ asked the young guy who brought the burger over to me.
‘Yeah.’
‘You’re brave, love. We don’t get many of you here at this time of year. It’s the Big Wet, ya see. My advice is don’t go far without an umbrella. Or a fan,’ he added. ‘Though both are pretty useless in the wet season.’
I ate my burger in about four mouthfuls, then studied the map of the town again. As usual, the letters in the words jumbled before my eyes, but I soldiered on and eventually found the place I was looking for. Going back to the counter to pay and grab some more water, I pointed out the spot on the map to the waiter.
‘How far away is this?’
‘The museum? From here, it’s about a twenty-minute walk.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ I turned round to leave but he stopped me.
‘It’s closed this arvo, though. Try tomorrow.’
‘I will. Bye.’
It felt like everything in Broome was closed in the afternoon. Back in my room, I remembered my dead mobile and plugged it in next to the bed to charge. While I was in the bathroom, I was surprised to hear it pinging again and again and I scurried back to look at it.
‘Wow!’ I grunted under my breath as the screen displayed messages from Star and my other sisters. I opened the text page on my phone and scrolled down, and the messages kept on coming. I saw there were a number of missed calls too.
I started on the texts first.
Star: Cee! OMG! Call me. Xx
Maia: CeCe, where are you? What’s going on? Call me! X
Ally: It is YOU, isn’t it? Call me. X
Tiggy: Are u okay? Thinking of you. Call me. Xx
Electra . . .
Electra had texted me . . .
In a total panic as to why all my sisters were suddenly contacting me, I concentrated on deciphering Electra’s text.
You dark horse, you!
There was no kiss or a ‘call me’ at the end of her text, but neither did I expect it.
‘Something’s up,’ I muttered to myself as I scrolled down and saw a text from a number I didn’t know.
I trusted you. Hope you’re happy.
I leapt to my rucksack and got out the scrap of paper on which Ace had written down his mobile number and saw it matched the number on my screen.
‘Oh God, Cee . . .’ I scraped the palms of my hands distractedly up and down my cheeks. ‘What have you done? Christ!’ I mentally retraced my footsteps since leaving Thailand, searching for clues as to what it could have been.
You’ve been on a plane for most of the time . . .
Nope, there was nothing. Nothing I’d said, or even thought about Ace that was bad. Quite the opposite, in fact. I stood up and paced across the small, tiled room, then I went back to my mobile and dialled the voicemail number, to be told in a strong Australian accent that it wasn’t the right one, but without telling me what the right one was. I threw the phone onto the bed in irritation.
Even though it would cost a fortune, I had to find out what had happened. The best way was to go straight to the horse’s mouth, which was Ace.
Wishing for once I was a drinker – a few shots of whisky chased down by a tequila slammer or four might have calmed the trembling in my fingers – I tapped in Ace’s number. Squaring up my body as though I was about to have a physical fight, I waited for it to connect.
A different Australian voice informed me that ‘this number is unavailable’. Thinking that maybe I’d got it wrong, I tried another ten or even fifteen times, but still the answer was the same.
‘Shit! So, what do I do now . . . ?’ I asked myself.
Phone Star . . . she’ll know.
I paced some more, because it would mean breaking the silence, and I knew that hearing her voice for the first time in weeks might break me too. Still, I knew I had no choice. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep tonight without knowing what I’d done.
I dialled Star’s number and it rang eventually, which was something. Then I heard my sister’s voice, and did my best to swallow a gulp of emotion as she said hello.
‘It’s me, Sia . . .’ I said, reverting automatically to the pet name I used when I spoke to her.
‘Cee! Are you okay? Where are you?’
‘In Australia . . . in the middle of nowhere.’ I managed a chuckle.
‘Australia? But you always refused to go there!’
‘I know, but here I am. Listen, do you know why I’ve got all these texts from everyone?’
There was a silence on the other end. Finally, she said, ‘Yes. Don’t you?’
‘No. I really don’t.’
Another pause, but I was used to those from her and I waited for her to choose her words. The result was disappointing.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see.’
‘See what? Seriously, Sia, I really don’t know. Can you tell me?’
‘I . . . yes. It’s to do with the man you were photographed with.’
‘Photographed with? Who?’
‘Anand Changrok, the rogue trader who broke Berners Bank and then disappeared off the face of the earth.’
‘Who? What?! I don’t even know an “Anand Changrok”.’
‘A tall, dark-haired man who looks oriental?’
‘Oh. God. Shit. . . it’s Ace!’
‘You do know him then?’ said Star.
‘Yes, but not what he’s done. What has he done?’
‘He didn’t tell you?’
‘Of course he didn’t! Otherwise I wouldn’t be calling you to find out, would I? And what do you mean, he “broke” a bank?’
‘I don’t know the details, but it’s to do with illegal trading. Anyway, by the time his fraud was discovered, he’d already left the UK. From what I read in The Times yesterday, intelligence services all over the world have been looking for him.’
‘Jesus Christ, Sia! He never said a word.’
‘How on earth did you meet him?’
‘He was just some guy on Phra Nang Beach – you remember, the really -’ I stopped myself from saying ‘ace’ – ‘beautiful one with the limestone pillars.’
‘Of course I remember.’
I thought I heard a slight catch in her voice as she said this.