Raising himself up to his considerable height, he sucked in a deep breath and laid a course for Blue Smoke Ribs and Barbecue.

*

New Town, Shah told her, was even more crowded than usual because of the fleet’s arrival in port. Thousands of US personnel, and as many allied sailors and Marines, thronged on the streets: hanging out of the windows of pubs, lining up at the government-licensed bordellos, crowding out tattoo parlours, betting shops and burger joints. Tupac and Snoop Dogg mingled with Garth Brooks and George Strait in a sonic train wreck that threatened to bring on a brain embolism if Jules had to listen to much more of it. She checked the list of bars and greasy spoons where Shah said Rhino hung out. It would be tempting to head straight to his boat to wait for him, but he might not go back there for hours, possibly even a day or two if he was on a bender. So an old-fashioned snipe hunt it was.

Music mingled with the scent of fried meat, which was strong enough to overpower the rank odour of thousands of men and women all rubbing up hard against each in the hot, dank air. Not all of the city was the same, she knew. There was old money here in Darwin, and new money that didn’t care for the sour stench of the gutter. They would have their own enclaves. But New Town was all gutter. It was where the city’s considerable population of the transient and the displaced gathered to feel as if they still had some purchase on the world. Every port town she’d ever passed through was the same. Class mattered in these sorts of places. Her father would have understood that as soon as he drew in the first breath of fetid air. He’d have stayed in one of the old colonial neighbourhoods, somehow, but he’d have done his best work down here, in the worst part of town.

As Julianne weaved through the heaving crowds she heard American voices everywhere. Enlisted men and women. The proles of the service. Unless they were sending their money home, the officers would most likely take their leisure in Darwin’s older, more exclusive quarter, spending six months of accumulated pay on electronics and clothing and finer brands of firewater than the lesser ranks were inclined to shell out for. Attachment to the Combined Fleet was a much sought-after billet. It was one of the few postings in the present-day US military where you were guaranteed that your pay would arrive. Granted, payday had taken a step backward, away from electronic accounts. Post-Wave, it consisted of a petty officer or sergeant, accompanied by a pair of armed guards, counting out currency to sailors, Marines and anyone else waiting in line. But nobody here was complaining.