Across The Wall by Garth Nix

Author:Garth Nix [Nix, Garth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-05T06:00:00+00:00

“Good luck, Bert.”

They stopped on the way to get some food, bottled water, blankets, and kerosene for the old stove in the shack. Bert had quite a lot of money with him. Old fifty-dollar notes, the paper ones that were replaced by the smaller polymer variety years before. The checkout girl didn’t want to take them at first, par-ticularly from Rowan, but when he showed her Bert waiting in the taxi and explained that he didn’t like the “new money,” she relented.

It took half an hour by taxi to get to the Hill. Rowan had

144 the hill

expected the gate to be locked and had worried about the climb up the track for Bert, but it was not only unlocked, it was open. The track looked a bit rough, but the taxi driver said it wasn’t his cab so he wasn’t worried.

“Besides,” he added, “if a big Mercedes like that can make it up, we can.”

He pointed through the windscreen, and Rowan and Bert saw that there was a very large dark-blue Mercedes parked next to the shack. Two men were standing next to it. Rowan recognized his father and felt the lump of anxiety that had been in his stomach all day flower into panic. He didn’t rec-ognize the other man, the one in the suit and glittering sun-glasses.

“Dad’s here already!” exclaimed Rowan.

“Not for long,” said Bert. “Just park up next to the shack, will you, mate?”

Rowan felt himself instinctively crouching down as they approached and both men looked over to see who it was. Both looked puzzled; then his dad’s face bloomed red as anger sent the blood swirling around his nose and cheeks. He stormed over and yanked the door open, pulling Rowan out by his shirt collar.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, son?” he shouted.

“He’s helping me,” said Bert, who was being helped out the other door by the taxi driver. “Let him go, Roger. Then you and your friend have got two minutes to get off my property.”

“Your property?” said the man in the suit, smiling. He looked at Roger. “I don’t think so.”

Bert laughed, his gold tooth gleaming.

“Another smart arse from the city who hasn’t done his homework,” he said. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m Albert Salway.”

145 across the wall

“Salway?” said the man. “Salway!”

He looked at Roger Salway, the smile and his relaxed slouch gone. He was angry too, now.

“What’s his relationship to you, Roger? Does he have any claim over this land?”

“He’s my great-grandfather,” muttered Roger, not meet-ing the other man’s eyes and not answering his question either.

“It’s my land,” repeated Bert. “Has been for nearly seventy years. And like I said, you have one minute to get off my property.”

“Well, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot,” said the businessman, trying to smile again. “Let me introduce my-self. I’m John Ragules, representing FirstLaunch Space Services.

We plan to build a satellite launching facility in this area—a spaceport. We need this hill, for . . .

well, we call it the ski launch component.

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