Part 8 (1/2)
Fatboy rang off, and Tane realized that he had forgotten to ask why he'd had his mobile phone turned off.
He speed-dialed Rebecca's number.
Lunchtime was at twelve-thirty, but by twelve thirty-seven, Fatboy still hadn't showed. Tane could barely restrain his excitement, and a Quarter Pounder and fries didn't help.
Rebecca, by contrast, was oddly silent and ate nothing.
”What's troubling you?” Tane eventually asked. ”Is it the SOS?”
”No, no. Yes, I'm excited. It's just...” A small tear squeezed itself out of her left eye, and she wiped it away quickly. ”I know you should never say 'What if.' What if this had happened, what if that had happened. But I just can't help thinking, what if we had thought of the whole thing a year earlier? Fourteen months earlier.”
Tane reached across the small Formica-topped table and put his hand on her arm. He knew where she was heading.
Rebecca said, her voice choked, ”They could have warned us. We could have told Dad to stay at home that day. Everything would be different.” Rebecca struggled to contain the sobs. ”Mum...” She couldn't continue.
”You're right,” Tane said. ”You should never say 'what if.'”
He wanted to say more, something to ease Rebecca's pain, but he couldn't find quite the right words, and then it was too late because Fatboy pulled up, right outside their window in a brand-new, metallic green, soft-top Jeep Wrangler. There was a nervous-looking man sitting beside him in the pa.s.senger seat.
Rebecca grabbed Tane's napkin and patted at her eyes. By the time Fatboy and the stranger sat down, her smile was forced but believable. Just.
Fatboy slid across the bench seat with a flourish and put his arm around Rebecca's shoulders. He grabbed Tane's c.o.ke. ”Kia Ora, kids.” kids.”
”Hey!” Tane protested.
”Buy yourself another,” Fatboy laughed. ”h.e.l.l, buy yourself the whole G.o.dd.a.m.n factory if you want to.”
The stranger sat timidly on the end of the bench seat. He was tall and balding in a flat line across the top of his head. He had a black mustache. He said a little unsteadily, ”Actually, the Coca-Cola Amatil factory would be worth considerably more than the six million you have available to invest.”
”Don't you just love lawyers!” Fatboy and his moko moko grinned at them. ”They're so literal.” grinned at them. ”They're so literal.”
”Nice wheels,” Rebecca said cautiously.
”Yeah. Goes like stink too,” Fatboy agreed. ”I almost got it up on two wheels coming around Seymour Road.”
Tane thought that might go some ways to explaining the rather nervous-looking lawyer.
”And we need a lawyer, do we?” he asked pointedly.
Fatboy reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick, folded orange-colored booklet. He tossed it in front of Tane, who picked it up and examined it. Realize Your Dreams. Winner's Information from the NZ Lotteries Commission. Realize Your Dreams. Winner's Information from the NZ Lotteries Commission.
”Page twelve,” said Fatboy. ”Seek professional advice. Tane, Rebecca, this is Anson Strange; Anson, my brother Tane and my um...Rebecca.”
They both shook the man's hand.
Fatboy continued, ”I didn't have a spare helmet for the Harley with me. But it was no problem. I just ran next door to the Chrysler yard and picked up the Wrangler.”
”I hope you got a discount,” Tane muttered. ”Why couldn't we get hold of you?”
Fatboy looked aggrieved. ”I was on my way to Wellington to claim our winnings. You can't just run into the nearest Lotto shop and ask them to cash out a six-million-dollar ticket!”
”We tried your mobile phone.”
”Can't use them on a plane.”
Rebecca asked, ”Are you sure we need a lawyer? I thought you said that was all unnecessary.”
Fatboy answered, ”Things are different now. With six million dollars to play with, we've got to do things properly. Otherwise we might go and do something stupid like spend it all on a flight to the moon or something.”
”Or a submarine,” said Tane under his breath.
Rebecca said, ”Does anyone else know about our win? Like your mum and dad?”
”Or the press?” Tane added.
Fatboy shook his head. ”n.o.body. I requested that our details remain anonymous.” He turned to the lawyer. ”Anson, would you give us a few minutes?”
Anson rose dutifully and went to stand in a queue behind the counter.
”What are you guys into?” Fatboy asked as soon as Anson was out of earshot.
”What do you mean?” Rebecca asked innocently.
”You knew those numbers were going to come up. I'm not entirely stupid. Something's going on.”
”Nothing's going on,” said Tane quickly.
”Can you do it again? Pick the numbers?” Fatboy stared directly at Tane.
”No.”
”Maybe.”
Tane and Rebecca said it simultaneously. Tane was louder.
Tane could just about see the dollars ticking over behind Fatboy's eyes.
”I want in,” Fatboy said. ”I want a part of it.”
You want a part of everything, Tane thought, and said sullenly, ”You don't even know what Tane thought, and said sullenly, ”You don't even know what it it is.” is.”
”That's true.” Fatboy grinned. ”But I want in anyway. How's that? Is it illegal?”
Tane didn't think it would worry Fatboy if it was. ”No.”
”There are some big up-front expenses,” Rebecca said cautiously.