Heaven Nor Hell

  ‘Let’s stop all this shit, Ash. Let’s get back to reality and work out what the hell we're going to do for our investigation assignment.’

  ‘… which is due in two bloody weeks,’ added Todd in a sudden panic.

  ‘But nothing makes any sense.’

  ‘Give it up, Ash.’

  Ashleigh opened the newspaper folded under her armpit. The major story on page 1 referred to The Vatican refuting the gangsters' claims. Underneath was the start of another article about the race between pharmaceutical companies to obtain the Eternal Drug. She flicked through several pages until she found another on page 9 with the headline “World Health Authorities Say Eternal Drug is Fantasy – And Will Be For Ever”.

  ‘Look at this,’ she whispered, as some dubious clientele sauntered past. ‘Our latest articles aren't on page one anymore. Our story is dead and our evidence has been ridiculed. And then there’s all this muck The Sunday Mail has been writing about us.’ Ashleigh pointed to an article on page 7 with the caption “Student Investigators of Eternal Drug Cheat in Uni Test”. Next to it was a series of snapshots of the three of them scurrying out of an exam room. ‘The stuff they write about us is no longer on page one either.’ She turned to page 3. ‘This story is all about the imminent death of the Prime Minister’s mother, as if we bloody care.’ She flicked over to page 5. ‘And this is all about those nuns who ...’

  ‘What’s on pages two, four and six?’

  Todd sniggered at Jordan. ‘Ads, of course.’

  Ashleigh stared at the headline on page 5: “Two Nuns Found Dead at Conference”. She hurriedly scanned the story and read out some critical words. ‘Two nuns ... suddenly dead … found by Doctor Mitchell.’ She abruptly swivelled towards Jordan. ‘Give me your camera.’

  Jordan obediently unzipped his daypack, extracted the handy-cam, and passed it to Ashleigh. With a degree of expertise that impressed Jordan and baffled Todd, she pressed some keys and located footage taken several days before at the Morphettville Medical Centre. The three of them peered at the monitor, which showed film taken of the corridor and doors leading to the doctors’ consulting rooms. Ashleigh paused and rewound the film before zooming into a door labelled “Doctor Mitchell”.

  ‘Could be a coincidence,’ said Todd cautiously. ‘Another Doctor Mitchell.’

  Ashleigh handed the camera back to Jordan and continued skimming through the article in The Sunday Mail. ‘Doctor Mitchell found the dead nuns in the ladies toilet ...’

  Todd grinned. ‘Men go into the ladies sometimes.’

  ‘At a convent?’

  ‘Admittedly, we haven't done that … yet.’

  ‘Doctor Mitchell is obviously a woman, you idiots, and …’ Ashleigh paused to scan the text more thoroughly. ‘That's it!’

  ‘What's it?’ mumbled Todd and Jordan simultaneously.

  ‘Doctor Olsson gave the Eternal Drug to the two gangsters so they could refute the existence of Hell. But no-one cares anymore. It's old news.’

  ‘True.’ Jordan nodded.

  ‘And the media, and the public, no longer believe what the gangsters said anyway. They're now being treated as liars and cheats.’ Ashleigh showed them an article on page 9 with the headline “Gangsters Who Claim Immortality Still Have to Pay Tax!”. Underneath was a photo of Charlie and Dom in handcuffs being lead to a police car. ‘These nuns died five days ago. And their funeral is this afternoon. We need to go to it.’

  Jordan frowned. ‘But there won't be any chicks there.’

  ‘… or beer,’ added Todd.

  ‘But there will be two very honest people at the funeral who may also come back to life. And, if so, the nuns could refute the existence of Heaven.’ Ashleigh rushed down the aisle towards the front door as Todd knocked over the S&M mannequin.

  * * * * *

  The funeral was held in St Francis Xavier Cathedral, squeezed between various distastefully rectangular constructions flanking Victoria Square. Under the high-beamed ceilings and among the sandstone arches, hundreds of mourners were praying at the polished pews or mingling around the pulpit, altar and vestry. Light shone piously through a pane depicting the Crucifixion, and pinned to a column was a banner bearing the face of Mary MacKillop, a South Australian who is the country’s only saint.

  Young, agitated and clothed like university students on a Sunday, Ashleigh, Jordan and Todd appeared conspicuous and acted self-consciously as they slipped through a side-door. Jordan’s bulky jacket concealed a smaller hand-held video camera, and Ashleigh clutched a digital voice-recorder.

  While waiting in line to walk past both coffins, the three students nodded dutifully and smiled mournfully at others who continued to glare at them with disquiet. Eventually, they were allowed a moment to stand above the nuns’ caskets. Jordan partially opened his jacket and pressed “start” on his camera.

  Ashleigh nodded at Todd, who firmly shook his head. She then glared at Jordan, who whispered back angrily. ‘No! This is your freaking idea!’

  ‘Don’t swear in a bloody church!’ hissed Ashleigh. She checked for any potential witnesses before slowly poking one of the nuns in the stomach and then pinching the dead woman’s cheeks. Ashleigh’s jaw dropped as she shuffled across to prod and squeeze the other nun lying inside the second coffin.

  Striding with indignation towards Ashleigh, the Mother Superior paused and glimpsed inside the two coffins. She immediately staggered back against a lectern, shrieked an obscenity, and sunk to the floor. As others rushed to her side they also peered into the caskets. While everyone else was screeching or kneeling on the ground to pray fervently, the three students retreated to a corner. Todd took advantage of the chaos to devour the tastiest treats spread along the food table. Jordan continued filming and Ashleigh took notes while the two nuns were gently lifted out of the coffins and on to their feet.

  Ashleigh had to shout to Jordan above the pandemonium pulsating across the church. ‘We need to talk to the nuns now!’

  As Jordan stepped towards the coffins, he accidentally elbowed a couple of panicky priests in the ribs. Ashleigh moved closer to the two nuns with her voice-recorder hidden, but Todd thought it prudent to remain in the distant corner and try the jam-topped scones.

  Visibly shaken and utterly mystified, the two nuns were positioned on to chairs and offered solace and succour by the panicky priests – the only guests not actually screaming, praying or collapsing to the floor.

  ‘Excuse me. Did you see any lights when you were dead?’

  ‘No.’ The First Nun frowned with dismay about the bluntness of Ashleigh’s question. ‘I saw no lights.’

  ‘Any tunnels?’

  ‘No.’ The Second Nun hesitated, clearly baffled by her own answer. ‘No, um …’

  ‘But you must've seen some angels.’

  ‘I didn't.’ The First Nun turned to her colleague. ‘Did you?’

  ‘No.’

  Ashleigh leaned closer to ensure that her voice-recorder would capture their responses. ‘You were both dead for five days. Did you see or hear anything?’

  The nuns shook their heads and glanced at the Mother Superior, who was still swaying a little. The Second Nun was about to speak but noticed the Mother Superior gesticulating furiously at the priests.

  Ashleigh elbowed her way closer to the First Nun. ‘Is there a Heaven?’

  ‘I don't–’

  But both nuns were swiftly escorted out of the church by the two priests.

  * * * * *

  At about 5pm, Ashleigh, Jordan and Todd were squatting on their haunches among a dense row of prickly bushes. Todd was leering through binoculars while Jordan was fiddling about with his video camera, so the only one with any semblance of control was Ashleigh. ‘OK. There they are.’

  Todd followed Ashleigh's gaze. ‘How can you tell? They all look the same to me.’

  Ashleigh stood up from behind the bushes and scanned the convent gardens. Built in the 1900s, the grand two-storey buildings and expansive gard
ens still maintained a grace that no doubt elicited meditation and inspired contemplation. ‘Come on.’ But before moving, Ashleigh realised that Jordan was standing in the bushes with his back to them and legs wide, clearly emptying his bladder.

  And Todd was motionless, intently staring through binoculars at rooms along the second floor. ‘Did you know that nuns don’t wear anything when they–‘ Ashleigh slapped Todd across the back of his head. ‘Ow! That hurt.’

  ‘Good.’ She raised her arm towards the binoculars. ‘Put that away!’ She then pointed at Jordan's crotch as he finished peeing. ‘… and that!’

  As the two nuns continued strolling across the lush lawn, Jordan furtively opened his camera, Ashleigh checked her microphone, and Todd extracted his pen and notepad.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Ashleigh bellowed and waved as ardently as she dared in the hallowed confines of the convent. ‘We have to ask you some more questions.’

  The two nuns jolted and glanced uneasily at the recording equipment aimed towards them.

  ‘You were the ones at our funeral this morning.’ The First Nun spoke agreeably.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You poke hard.’ But there was rancour in the Second Nun’s voice.

  ‘And I've got bruises all over.’ The First Nun rubbed her shoulder gingerly.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Ashleigh, although even Todd could tell that she wasn’t. ‘Look. You said that while you were dead you saw no lights.’

  The First Nun’s habit quivered as she shook her head. ‘No. I said there were no flights.’

  ‘No, you did not. You said you saw no lights. And no tunnels.’

  Both nuns peered further along the path towards the Mother Superior waiting at a distant door.

  ‘We've got nothing to say,’ mumbled the Second Nun. ‘We have to go.’

  ‘Did you see angels?’

  The First Nun was almost inaudible. ‘Angels always beckon the Blessed to Heaven.’

  ‘But did you go to Heaven?’

  Ashleigh’s question forced the First Nun to stop mid-stride. ‘I, uh … um …’

  ‘How do you know there are angels and a Heaven? You are the only two people in the world ever to know if there are angels and a Heaven. But you said you didn't see or feel anything.’

  During the fleeting silence, the two nuns and three students gazed fearfully at the Mother Superior as she began marching towards them.

  Ashleigh continued with some urgency. ‘And now you're lying. Is that part of your faith?’ The two nuns glanced at each other before striding towards the Mother Superior. ‘You don’t know, but you two are on film. In two scenes and at two different places, each time contradicting yourselves.’ The nuns remained silent as Ashleigh paced purposefully beside them. ‘You said you saw nothing in the afterlife. Does that mean there is no Heaven?’

  The First Nun murmured something that no-one could hear.

  ‘Pardon?’ Ashleigh shifted her microphone closer. ‘What did you say?’

  Now almost sobbing, the nuns scuttled past the Mother Superior and entered a darkened room within the convent.

  The Mother Superior advanced towards the three students and crossed her arms. ‘What they said at the funeral ... Well, they we were very distraught. Obviously confused about telling the truth. But now they're–‘

  ‘–obviously pressured into lying.’ Ashleigh let the accusation hang in the air as the Mother Superior swivelled back towards the darkened room.

  Chapter Seven

  Monday

  Adelaide’s only tram commences near the beach at Glenelg and hurtles to the city along a diagonal track through the western suburbs. Ashleigh boarded at Stop 12 adjacent to the Morphettville Racecourse, an obscenely vast and sparingly-used area of grass and buildings where people gamble on horses running around in circles while being beaten with sticks by starved little men.

  The tram wasn’t too crowded, so she managed to find a seat in the front carriage. Placing an iPad on her lap and an earpiece in her ear, she peered around nervously at the other passengers; a few returned her suspicious glances. She opened a folder marked “ED”, and scrolled down a long list of titles. She chose one which contained the complete unedited footage taken by Jordan at the nuns' funeral.

  As the tram rattled through a major intersection about fifteen minutes later she gasped. After inhaling deeply, she skilfully rewound, replayed and cropped the footage. As she brought the iPad closer to her face, she again gasped and glanced around at the passengers clinging to poles and herded around doors.

  Stop 3 serves the Royal Adelaide Showgrounds, another ridiculously vast area of grass and buildings rarely used. Gawking at the latest version of the Samsung Tablet glued to his hands, Jordan almost tripped as he entered the first carriage and searched for Ashleigh. He removed the daypack she’d dumped on a spare seat to the dismay of the grumpy commuters huddled nearby.

  But neither had noticed four suspicious people in raincoats following Jordan into the carriage. While searching for positions as close as possible to Jordan and Ashleigh, the four glanced uneasily at another four suspicious people in raincoats who'd been following Ashleigh, unbeknownst to her.

  ‘Check this out.’ Ashleigh positioned her iPad closer to Jordan as she replayed the footage she had just cropped. It showed Dr Olsson in a wig, trying to look inconspicuous at the nuns’ funeral.

  Jordan found it difficult to be too aghast before 10am. ‘What the hell is she doing there?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ As the footage continued, it showed Dr Olsson talking earnestly with another woman. ‘And I bet that is Doctor Mitchell.’

  ‘OK, check this out.’ Jordan pressed some keys on his tablet. ‘This is a snippet from the original footage I took of the nuns at the convent yesterday.’ He swivelled around a little but failed to notice the eight suspicious people in raincoats leaning menacingly within earshot. He inserted a wire into the device and offered one of the two earplugs to Ashleigh so they could both watch and listen to the clip.

  ‘You said you saw nothing in the afterlife. Does that mean there is no Heaven?’

  ‘Pardon? What did you say?’

  ‘And this …’ Jordan pressed “pause”, glanced around nervously once more, and whispered. ‘… is the same clip but with audio enhancement.’ He opened another video file and pressed “play”. It was the identical fragment of footage – except that the nun's previously-inaudible mumble had been boosted with editing software and subtitles added of what the nun had said.

  ‘You said you saw nothing in the afterlife. Does that mean there is no Heaven?’

  ‘I don't think there is a Heaven.’

  ‘Pardon? What did you say?’

  ‘Holy shit!’ Ashleigh’s response attracted the attention of most people in the carriage, particularly the eight suspicious people in raincoats clutching poles and trying to remain inconspicuous.

  The tram screeched to a halt at Pirie Street, not far from a mass of student accommodation around the Central Market. With The Advertiser folded under his smelly armpit, Todd entered the front carriage and searched for Jordan and Ashleigh. But neither Todd, nor his two accomplices, noticed another four suspicious people in raincoats entering the carriage and glancing uneasily at the other eight already there.

  ‘You got on for one stop?’ Ashleigh couldn’t find the energy to scowl before coffee.

  Todd shrugged and slid Jordan’s feet off of the opposite seat.

  Jordan twisted his head in both directions. ‘Did you see the clips from the funeral and convent I posted on YouTube last night?’

  Todd nodded and matched Jordan’s whisper. ‘Doctor Olsson and Doctor Mitchell saw the clips too. They rang me. They want another interview with us on camera – and with no shadowed faces or fuzzy voices this time.’

  Todd unfolded the newspaper and scanned the front-page article about the continual and acrimonious race between major international pharmaceutical companies for the rights to the Eternal Drug. Once m
ore, Ashleigh took out the two business cards from her top pocket and stared uncomprehendingly at the letters R and P on the back.

  The tram continues to the Adelaide Entertainment Centre, yet another vast area of buildings (but no grass) seldom used, but they alighted at Rundle Mall, the city’s major shopping and business precinct. As Ashleigh, Jordan and Todd gathered their daypacks and shuffled out of the door towards the university along North Terrace, they didn’t notice among the masses twelve suspicious people in raincoats glancing at each other before dispersing indecisively along Hindley Street, Rundle Mall and King William Street.

  * * * * *

  Inside one particularly soulless tutorial room that they always found difficult to locate, Ashleigh and Todd were restlessly scanning newspapers and iPads – mainly to avoid the glares and whispers from the other 15 students. Leggy Bargirl marched in and plonked that day’s edition of The Australian in front of Todd before sitting at a distant table with her fellow students.

  Ashleigh and Todd studied the front-page headline – “Todd the University Detective is Oh-So Defective: More Lies, Sleaze, Drugs and Bad Hair”. They glanced over the paparazzi-style photos across pages 2 and 3 which showed the three of them fleeing from the media. Ashleigh and Todd turned towards the clamour as photographers continued jostling with onlookers for prime positions outside the windows that the other students refused to shield with the undrawn curtains.

  ‘You know, the ones outside in the raincoats look a tad familiar,’ said Todd.

  ‘The media bashing has started big time,’ whispered Ashleigh. ‘That woman with the umbrella at the cinema toilets said the media will do whatever they tell them to do.’ She skimmed the lengthy article in The Australian. ‘And look what they said about you.’

  Todd examined the photo which emphasised his untidy hair. ‘Yeah. Have you got a comb?’

  The other students in the tutorial room were even more disgruntled when Jordan strolled in. The photographers outside the window intensified their snapping as Jordan neatened his hair and sat next to Todd, who snatched his colleague’s comb.

  Jordan thumped a fist on The Australian. ‘We're now in every bloody paper and on every TV show and website. But not in a good way. Whatever reputations we had ...’ He lowered his head into his hands.

  Ashleigh glanced at Jordan’s feet. ‘Where's your daypack?’