The Covenant of Genesis

mentioned you.’

‘Oh, really?’ Bluey puffed out his chest. ‘What’d he say?’

‘Nothing terribly memorable.’ His face fell. ‘Though I do seem to recall something about, what was it, Eddie? Oh, yes. Appalling flatulence.’

Bluey gave Chase a hurt look. ‘You told her about my Afghan squirts? Christ, mate, that was supposed to be something to keep between blokes!’

Chase smirked. ‘Just be glad I didn’t tell her about the—’

‘All right, all right! Christ.’ Bluey ushered them inside, surveyed the untidy garden and the street beyond with a wary eye, then shut the door, plunging the interior into near-darkness.

‘Why’s it so dark?’ Chase asked.

‘We need to keep the windows covered. So we don’t get any stickybeaks seeing what we’re up to.’

‘And what are you up to these days?’

‘Still in the same line of work,’ Bluey said as he led them through a door. ‘Just being a lot more high-tech about it.’

‘You’re not kidding,’ said Chase as he took in the room’s contents. Several computers were lined up on a row of tables along one wall, connected to numerous scanners and colour laser printers. A large laminating machine was whirring away in one corner, and there were several other pieces of equipment he couldn’t even identify.

Perched on a stool by the laminator was a petite Asian woman. From her features, Chase guessed she was Vietnamese, in her early thirties. Although she was pretty, her pinched, sour expression detracted from her looks. She glared at the new arrivals. ‘Bluey! Who are they?’

Bluey put the shotgun down on a table and went to her. Sophia eyed the weapon, edging almost imperceptibly closer; Chase firmly interposed himself. ‘It’s all right, he’s an old mate,’ Bluey said, tone conciliatory. ‘Eddie Chase.’

‘Eddie Chase?’ The woman perked up. ‘Oh, Eddie Chase! The one who helped you?’

‘That’s the one. If it hadn’t been for him, we’d never have met. Eddie, this is my wife, Hien.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Chase. Hien hopped off the stool and shook his hand vigorously.

‘Nice to meet you too!’ she said. ‘Bluey talks about you. Says you’re . . .’ She screwed up her face again, trying to remember. ‘Ah! “Not a bad bloke for a smelly pom.”’

Chase gave Bluey a look. ‘Cheers, mate.’

‘Don’t you just love her?’ Bluey said through a sheepish grin.

‘Although I have to say, Eddie,’ Sophia piped up, ‘there certainly were occasions when you could have spent more time in the shower.’

‘I should’ve got a gag to go with those handcuffs,’ Chase muttered.

Bluey chuckled. ‘Now I see why she’s your ex, mate. So . . . what can I do you for? I’m guessing this isn’t just a social visit.’

‘’Fraid not. Someone’s after us, and we need help.’

Bluey’s eyes narrowed, and he moved back towards the shotgun. ‘What kind of someone? Police?’

‘No, more like mercs. But mercs with some very high-up connections.’

He put a hand on the gun, eyeing the door. ‘You weren’t followed, were you?’

Chase shook his head. ‘No, I checked. But they’re not going to give up.’

‘So you need new IDs, right?’ He looked back at Hien, who now had an odd expression as she regarded Sophia. ‘What’s up?’

Hien didn’t answer. Instead, she raised one hand to block out Sophia’s blonde hair . . . and her eyes widened in shock. She yelled in Vietnamese, prompting the confused Bluey to pick up the shotgun, then ran to a computer. A few seconds of typing, and Google brought up a page full of pictures of Sophia with long dark hair, taken at the time of her arrest in New York. ‘Terrorist! She’s that terrorist! With a nuclear bomb!’

‘Jesus!’ said Bluey, recognition crossing his face. He pointed the shotgun at Sophia, who sighed and raised her hands. ‘She bloody is, too! Eddie, what the fuck are you doing bringing her here? We’d be up shit creek far enough if we got caught making new IDs for refugees - but fucking terrorists?’

‘Hey, I’m not exactly happy about it either,’ Chase told him. ‘If it’d been up to me, I would’ve left her with the bad guys.’

‘Oh, thank you, Eddie,’ Sophia said coldly. ‘Good to know where we all stand.’

‘But we need her, which means we need to get her an ID so she can travel. And we’ll probably need new passports and stuff ourselves to be on the safe side.’

‘Who’s “we”?’ Hien demanded.

‘Me and Nina, my fiancee. Nina Wilde.’ Chase saw them both react to the name. ‘Yeah, that Nina Wilde. Discoverer of Atlantis? Found the tomb of King Arthur? You know the one.’

‘Jesus,’ Bluey said with a half-disbelieving, half-admiring whistle. ‘And she’s your fiancee? Y’know, mate, for an ugly bugger you don’t half pick up some cracking sheilas.’ Hien scowled. ‘But they’re nothing compared to you, darlin’!’ he hurriedly added with a big smile.

‘Why do you need help from a terrorist?’ demanded Hien, not mollified.

‘The bad guys needed her - we’re trying to stop them,’ said Chase, deciding to simplify the explanation. ‘They’re looking for something, and we need to find it before they do. If we don’t . . . well, we’re dead, pretty much. And that’s why we need your help.’

‘And what happens after? To her?’ Hien jabbed an angry finger at Sophia.

‘I hadn’t really thought that far ahead,’ Chase admitted.

‘Then you should!’ She indicated the handcuffs. ‘You think she’s going to try to escape - what happens if she does? We’ll have helped! I’m not going to be part of that. Helping people start a new life is one thing, but this? No!’

‘I wouldn’t have come if there was any other choice. But you’re the only people who can help us.’ Chase gave Bluey a pointed look. ‘As a favour.’

‘Aw, Christ, mate, that’s not fair,’ said Bluey plaintively. ‘If it was just you, then no problem. But . . .’

‘You owe me, Bluey,’ Chase insisted. ‘Like you said, you wouldn’t have met Hien if it hadn’t been for me.’

Bluey chewed his bottom lip, then turned to his wife. ‘Hien . . .’

‘No!’ She turned on her heel and stalked out.

‘Back in a minute,’ he told Chase and Sophia, before following Hien and closing the door behind him. Shrill shouting came through the wood.

‘Well, this takes me back,’ said Sophia, listening. ‘You know, I rather miss married life.’

‘Yeah, but your arguments ended with a gunshot,’ Chase reminded her.

‘Oh, only twice. I must say, she’s got an awfully big voice for such a little woman. No wonder he carries a shotgun in his own house. What exactly did you do to help him, by the way?’

‘Got him out of some legal trouble,’ he said evasively.

‘What kind?’

‘The putting a bullet into someone he shouldn’t have kind.’

‘Really?’ Sophia seemed almost impressed. ‘And I thought I knew all your dark secrets. So you helped cover up a murder, did you?’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Chase, uncomfortable at the memory. ‘The guy was a total scumbag - he deserved it. He was an Afghan warlord who was robbing every refugee who came through his territory, and raping and killing anyone who didn’t pay up. Problem was, he could get away with it because he was one of our Afghan warlords, who was supposed to be helping us fight the Taliban.’

‘But your friend Bluey took matters into his own hands, I take it.’

‘Yeah. We were coming back from an op when we ran into this arsehole and his men beating up some refugees. Bluey told him to stop, he told us to fuck off and let him get on with it . . . so Bluey shot him. Then his men tried to kill us, so we shot them as well.’

‘And then you lied about what happened on the official report, I take it.’

‘I said that the guy pulled a gun on Bluey, so it was self-defence. The politicos weren’t happy about their “trusted ally”,’ the words dripped with sarcasm, ‘getting killed by one of our guys, but the refugees backed us up,