Free Prohibited Zone by Alastair Sarre

together the bodies.’
    â€˜If this guy is a fair-dinkum terrorist I hope you catch him,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know him and I haven’t met him. I still don’t see why this is my business.’
    â€˜He is a close associate, guardian and probably fuck interest of Saira Abdiani.’ The room was hot and the smell of sweat was starting to dominate over the smell of smoke. Hindmarsh was unpleasantly close to me. He had developed a sheen; I probably had, too. ‘Maybe you see the point now.’
    I had come this far with the lie. I didn’t like Hindmarsh. He didn’t like me. I lied again.
    â€˜No, I don’t see the point, since I don’t know Saira Abdiani or whatever her name is. If you knew her boyfriend was al-Qaeda, why didn’t you arrest him and send him to Guantanamo Bay or one of those US prisons that don’t exist? Why leave him in a refugee detention centre?’
    â€˜If you help this woman you’re committing a criminal act,’ he repeated. ‘You could even be committing treason, the penalty for which is life imprisonment. Aiding and abetting terrorists – how does that sound?’
    â€˜If I see her I’ll give you a call.’
    â€˜You do that.’ He handed me a card with his name and a phone number on it.
    â€˜Officer of the Commonwealth of Australia,’ I read aloud. ‘Sounds self-important.’
    â€˜You might be surprised at what I am authorised to do.’
    â€˜For example?’
    â€˜Shoving a hot iron up your fucking arse if I need to. For example .’ Intense heat was emanating from his red, sweating face. ‘You know something? Smug bastards like you really piss me off . We are talking about a major threat to national security and an al-Qaeda operative running around loose. Thousands of lives could be at risk, and you sit there with a vacant smirk on your face and lie to me. You cock.’ One of his eyelids began twitching. He stood abruptly and walked behind me. I made the mistake of not keeping my eyes on him. Instead I looked at Tarrant.
    â€˜I’ve had enough . . .’ It was as far as I got before Hindmarsh king hit me.
    He hit me just above the left ear, I think with a back swing of his right elbow, hard enough to knock me to the floor. It took a few seconds to work out what had happened. My head was humming what might have been a C sharp; you could have tuned a guitar on it. Above the hum I heard the door open and close. I felt the side of my head. A lump the size and consistency of half a ripe mango had appeared there. I sat up. Tarrant was still sitting where I’d left him, his face still devoid of expression. Hindmarsh was gone.
    â€˜Is that covered by the Crimes Act?’
    â€˜The guy’s on edge. We all are.’
    Tarrant looked as on edge as a clump of spinifex. And not nearly as keen.
    â€˜Maybe I should make a complaint,’ I said.
    â€˜You’d be struggling to prove anything without witnesses,’ he replied. ‘But go ahead. We should get around to investigating it in a year or so.’
    â€˜You’re not a witness?’
    â€˜Not until we put a couple of stray terrorists behind bars.’
    â€˜So you believe this guy Amir is al-Qaeda?’
    â€˜I believe we’d better find him and ask him.’
    He asked me where I would be staying in Adelaide in case he wanted to contact me, and I gave him my brother’s address. Then he showed me the door, which I negotiated like a drunk.

7
    M Y HEAD WAS STILL HURTING when we climbed into the ute, but at least the humming had stopped and Kara was quiet for a change. I backed out and headed down Commercial Road towards the highway. I turned right onto the Stuart and drove along the causeway across Bird Lake, stepping up the speed from sixty to eighty and then to a hundred and ten as we passed the prison and left town. To the right, the state’s largest power station stood flush against the