Milkshake

by Matt Hammond

  Ed stood up, checking his mobile phone. He nodded, before replacing it back in his pocket. “Good, they’re waiting for us.” David moved to stand up in preparation for disembarkation. Ed touched his arm. “Wait here. I need to check everything is ok first. Make sure you’re one of the last off. I’ll meet you over by the car hire place. If I’m not there in ten minutes, book yourself straight back on the return crossing. Understand?”

  Ed’s dominant tone took David by surprise. He sensed it was compensating for some nervousness in Ed about whatever was about to happen next.

  “These guys don’t mess around, ok?” Ed caught the look on David’s face and he softened his tone. “Look, sorry, Dave, but once we are in the car with them, I won’t get another chance to explain. It’s just that, well, we need some muscle, rent a mob, whatever you want to call them. They are well paid for what we ask them to do but they run on a pretty short fuse, if you get my drift. I just thought I should warn you.” He hoisted his pack on to his back, pulled a cap David had not seen before firmly on to his head and made his way down the gangway.

  David waited until the sound of a vacuum cleaner indicated all passengers except him had disembarked. As he made his way down the gangway, the posters advertising the many tourist attractions this island had to offer reminded him it had always been their intention to make this final short southward journey together arriving, as generations before them had, like true immigrants, by sea.

  Instead he was being swept along on a roller coaster ride of subterfuge and intrigue, wanting no part of it, but somehow being the focal point of it. According to Ed, many other people had been involved in similar journeys recently. Had they been involved to the same extent David was? Was it just coincidence that he had made contact with Ed, an old school friend, who not only happened to have an intimate knowledge of exactly what Cowood was up to, but also what was being done to try and stop them?

  Ed was waiting for him as he emerged into the late afternoon sun. They made their way towards a battered grey Toyota Hilux, already occupied by two large men silhouetted in the cab. David followed Ed onto the back seat.

  The two men in the front simultaneously turned to greet David. For hired muscle, they were older than he had expected, silver grey hair framing both heavily lined faces, and their distinctive features clearly Maori in origin. Their mothers would have called them 'heavy set'. David considered 'obese' was more accurate as they heaved and puffed, straining to extend a hand to shake. “Kia ora, Bro’. I’m Tommy.” The driver smiled revealing yellow teeth, chipped and uneven, as he gripped David’s hand in a firm single shake. He reached across to meet the hand also being extended from the passenger side. “Kia ora. I’m Billy.”

  “Good to meet you both.”

  David was not pleased to meet them. Nothing about the last few days had been truly pleasant. Nonetheless, he had no reason to scorn a genuinely offered hand of friendship and risk upsetting the two men he sensed Ed had placed his trust in.

  ‘Eddie here tells us you’re from England,” Tommy continued as he weaved through the car park towards the port exit gate and swiftly out of Picton. “Our great nanna was from Liverpool.”

  David found that as hard to believe, given their obvious ethnic origins, as he did Ed’s previous intimation that they were dangerous gang members. Billy continued, “So, Eddie, Dave is gonna help us with our big cheesy mess tonight, eh, Bro’?” The two brothers laughed as the truck continued out of the town and onto the open road, heading toward Christchurch, according to the road sign David managed to glimpse.

  Ed leaned across. “I’ll explain later.”

  After an hour’s fast driving, Tommy turned the Hilux onto a narrow track through dense forest. They bumped along the winding dirt trail, emerging from under the canopy of trees into a small clearing. On the left, a high wire fence separated the track from a large scrubby paddock on the other side. Ed leaned forward and tapped Tommy’s shoulder. “I reckon about here, Tom, if that’s ok?”

  All four climbed out, meeting expectantly at the rear of the vehicle. Billy dropped the tailgate and climbed on. David hadn’t noticed the large metal crate securely fastened to the bed of the truck just behind the rear window. Billy unlocked the two heavy padlocks on either side and carefully lifted out two smaller, identical green boxes, followed by a green canvas bag which he handed to Ed. They were ammunition boxes. “Right, here’s the plan.”

  Ed explained, once it was dusk, they would make their way across the paddock. On the other side, he would cut the wire fence and they would head towards the main building.

  “Whoa, back a bit, rewind, one step at a time, Ed. Did I miss something here? Why exactly are we cutting wire fences and breaking in?”

  “Sorry, Dave, You’re right. Let’s rewind. Behind the fence is the Dairytree Cheese factory, owned, obviously, by Cowood. It’s one of the sites where the Waiheke milk is being taken for trial processing in the lab buildings at the rear of the main plant. The cheese factory is the ideal cover operation, producing high quality cheese for the home market but also conducting the preliminary ethanol distillation using the modified milk. We need to destroy the lab, but before we do, I need a sample of the whey powder containing the gamma casein. About two kilos should be enough. So, back to where we came in, once we get onto the site, Tom and Bill will start a fire in the main cheese factory that will be fierce enough to spread to the other buildings. They’ll make it look accidental, of course.”

  “Jug fire,” smiled Tom, pulling an old electric kettle from one of the ammo boxes.

  “While the boys are setting the fire, we’ll find the lab, get the whey powder and meet back here. Any questions?”

  “Clear as mud, boss,” Billy smiled.

  “What about the security guards?”

  Ed smiled at David’s innocent question. “Dave. This is New Zealand. They don’t pay people to guard cheese.”

  “But what about the milk powder. Isn’t that top secret, highly sensitive stuff?”

  “It is, which is exactly why Cowood doesn’t want to draw attention to it by setting up any kind of special security. Quietly working on it in some run-down old South Island cheese factory keeps it all nicely low-key.”

  This was getting worse. Tagging along for the ride was one thing; starting fires and destroying property was taking things to a whole new level. David was off the ferry but now he was deep in a forest in a strange country. Escape would have to be put on hold for a while longer

  They waited until dusk before silently making their way under the fence and around the perimeter of the field until they reached the far corner where a change in the fence indicated the boundary of the cheese factory. Tom and Bill pulled on the bottom edge of the fence until it lifted, creating enough of a gap for Ed and David to squeeze beneath it. Once on the other side, the pair did the same for the brothers.

  They were in the factory grounds, on the neatly cut grass border between the perimeter road and the fence. In front, on the other side of the road, were three single storey brick buildings. They looked old and solid, reminding David of an old hospital or an army camp. The site had the same well-kept, but sparse, air about it. “Looks like a barracks,” he whispered to Ed.

  “Nearly right. It was built as a military prison in the Second World War. The Government was expecting air raids and seaborne raids in submarines by the Japs. In the end it was never needed. In the fifties and sixties it was a mental hospital and then the land was sold for redevelopment in the late eighties. Dairytree set up their factory using the existing buildings. Until now, the research and development lab has been used to work on the ethanol conversion process.”

  “Until now?”

  “Well, yeah. We need to cover our tracks, and the fact we are going to liberate some of this gamma casein stuff means we’ll have to torch the entire site.”

  “Shame,” Chipped in Tom. “Me and Bill worked here for a season or two. There are some good blokes here.”

  “I wouldn’t w
orry too much,” replied Ed. “This place is well insured and, to keep up the cover, Dairytree will have to rebuild. That’ll probably keep most of the building contractors in a hundred kilometre radius busy for the next six months, so it’s not all bad news. Now let’s get to work.”

  Ed led David to the rear of the main factory building, towards a small concrete lean-to which looked like little more than a tool shed. Meanwhile Tom and Billy quickly disappeared in the opposite direction.

  Ignoring the sign, DANGER VOLATILE CHEMICALS, Ed hauled himself up and over the high fence which formed a compound around the small outhouse. Once inside, it only took three steps to reach a heavy looking wooden door. He peered at the handle and two small reinforced windows on either side of it. On the frame next to the door was a swipe card and key pad mechanism. Ed stepped back towards the fence. ‘Have you got the card handy?”

  David frowned. He didn’t have the access card to open this door.

  “The bloody credit card you’ve been carrying for the past few days. Give it to me.”

  David hesitated. The card would be useless without knowing the PIN number. Ed was stuck behind a ten foot fence like a dog in a kennel. There was no ATM on his side. Why did he want the card?

  There was greater urgency in his voice as he asked again “Just pass me the Goddamn card, Dave. What do you think I’m going to do with it?” He had a point. David took the card from his pocket and passed it through the fence to Ed who grabbed it, turned and stepped back to the door.

  He watched as Ed, with his back to him, stood close to the door. Suddenly there was a distinct black stripe down its right side which grew wider as Ed pushed the door open.

  “Did that card just open that door?” Ed’s back had obscured his actions.

  “Sure did. I just swiped it and hey presto! Wait there. I won’t be a minute.” With that, he pushed the door far enough to enter and disappeared inside.

  David stood silent, alone, staring through the wire at the closed door. In his mind, he was running back under the fence, straight across the field, under the second fence, and into the driver’s seat of the Hilux. He imagined how he could start the engine without the key.

  He had no idea how to do that.

  Darkness was now closing in quickly, accompanied by a sudden rapid drop in air temperature. He shivered, realising he was only wearing a thin shirt. In the surrounding trees he could hear birds getting ready to roost for the night, an incongruous chatter amidst the starkness of the factory.

  From the outbuilding there were also noises – scratching, followed by heaving and grunting. Finally the door re-opened and Ed emerged carrying a large plastic bucket. “They’ve got the stuff stored in bloody ten kilo drums!” he complained as he puffed and panted over to the wire. “Somehow we need to get this out of here.”

  In the distance there was another sound, a muffled ‘boof’ followed by the sound of glass shattering. David turned to see Tom and Billy half-running, half-staggering, around the corner. The pair stopped, puffing and panting as they reached the fence, clinging to it, their heads bowed, gasping for breath. They were laughing like schoolboys. “Did you see that? Jesus that was close, Bro'.”

  Tom wiped sweat from his face. Billy explained. “We broke into the kitchen and filled up our jug, the one with the dodgy cable. Then we plugged her in and switched her on. While she was getting hot, we found some old cooking fat and spread that around a bit. Then the jug let out an almighty bloody flash, the fat caught alight and hit the water coming out of the exploding jug, then a window blew out. The whole bloody kitchen just took hold. It must have been so full of grease and dust.” He paused, looking up. “Can you fellas smell chips?”

  There was a distinct smell of fried food in the air as the stench from the burning canteen reached their nostrils, followed by a curl of black smoke wafting around the corner. Ed took control. “Right, guys, we need to move fast now. We have to get this container over this fence and off the site right now. It’s too heavy for me to lift over. Any bright ideas?”

  He was right. There was no way he could heave the ten kilo drum over the three metre fence. There was a loud bang, followed by another, then another.

  Billy just smiled. “She’s going up pretty fast. Better get a move on, Eddie!”

  There was another bang, followed by the clang of falling metal, this time much closer. The sense of urgency in Ed’s voice as he stood trapped behind the fence grew. The familiar cooking smell was now being overtaken by another familiar but less welcome one - chlorine gas. “C’mon, guys, think! We need to move now!”

  He put the drum down and shuffled from one foot to the other, looking at the container, then the fence, then back again. It was clear he had no intention of leaving it behind. The door to the storage area was still open. At the far end, another door led directly into the factory. White smoke was beginning to creep under and around the door. Next to the door, as if by way of explanation, was a sign: FIRE.

  David was the first to sense the signs of mild panic in Ed. The smell of chlorine, the white smoke creeping up behind him and the dilemma of what to do was beginning to affect his usual cool and logical demeanour.

  It would take too long to explain. David took four paces back, ran, then leapt for the top of the fence and pulled himself over. Now he could look Ed in the face, the wire no longer between them. “Wait here.” David took a gulp of clean air and walked into the storeroom.

  In the confined space, the strong chemical vapour made his eyes sting. He tried holding his breath. Making his way to the door at the far end, he unclipped the fire hose nozzle from its bracket and ran back outside. Still holding it, he measured out enough hose to go up and over the fence and down the other side. Then, taking the handle of the container, he ran the hose under it, and looped the nozzle back, tying the handle to the hose, with about eight metres of spare hose between the nozzle and the bucket. There was enough slack in the hose and enough weight in the nozzle to allow him to give it a few lasso-style swings before launching it over the fence.

  Tom understood David’s intention, quickly grabbed the nozzle and began pulling. The drum tipped and scraped along the ground before rising into the air, banging against the fence as it made its way up. It reached the top of the fence but the combination of shape and weight meant it could not be levered over onto the other side.

  By now Ed had sensed victory and had recovered. “We need to get up there, Dave, and help her over.” They were both straight up the fence on either side of the drum. With their waists balancing over the top for support, they each reached out a hand and pushed it over. Once it had cleared the top, gravity took over and it fell, intact, onto the concrete below.

  Ed and David followed, pulling themselves over the fence and landing simultaneously on the other side.

  By the time they had regained their composure, Tom and Billy had already untangled the heavy container from the fire hose. Billy lifted it, ignoring the handle and instead clasping his arms around it, holding it close to his massive chest. He was already gasping and puffing his way across the service road and back towards the gap in the fence.

  There was a thud behind them and they turned to see the doorway at the back of the storeroom consumed by thick white smoke that billowed through the small room and out into the open air beyond. An invisible, but deadly, combination of gases that had already mixed and been trapped in the main part of the building now spread freely, wafting past their nostrils. Each took an involuntary breath as if their bodies needed confirmation of the imminent danger they were all in.

  Ed responded. “Ok, guys, now would be a good time to run. Once the flames reach those chemical containers, they’ll be going off like bloody fireworks and I, for one, don’t fancy having ten kilos drums of dairy by-products whizzing past my head.”

  They broke into a steady but determined trot, soon catching up with Billy as he struggled to get himself and the container under the fence. As they started back across the paddock, Billy quickly lagged
behind, struggling with the weight of the drum and his own lack of fitness. He tried holding it by the handle, first in his left hand, then in his right, but the weight and consequent pendulum action as he tried to move faster made it catch against his legs, slowing him even further.

  Ed ran back to assist. Tom and David stopped to watch. Ed took the container from Billy and lifted it. He called out into the dusk. “You two, wait there. If we each carry it fifty paces or so, we’ll gain ground faster and no one’s gonna get left behind or have a heart attack.”

  They began their one-team relay across the gloomy paddock, taking it in turns to carry the ten kilo drum. Small unseen mounds of earth and tussocks of grass that littered the field, now almost invisible in the darkness, made the short journey even more treacherous.

  It was Ed who stumbled first, catching his foot on a hard clump of reedy grass and spread-eagling onto the dewy ground. David took the drum as Tom helped Ed back to his feet. He took a few cautious steps, ensuring nothing had been broken, before breaking into a brisk stride and taking the lead towards the far side of the field. By the time they finally reached the truck, all were panting heavily, their combined warm breath clearly visible as a wispy evaporating plume above their heads.

  “Right, let’s get this in the back of the Hilux and get out of here.” Ed heaved the container onto the open tailgate, slid it along the bed of the truck and into the metal box behind the cab. As he made his way around to the driver’s door, he pointed past the bonnet to the glowing eastern sky. “She’s well alight now.”

  In the distance they heard the shrill electronic sound of a siren. Ed pressed the button on the side of his watch to illuminate the face. “We might just make the ten-thirty news.”

  Two months later the official report would explain ….