‘Christ!’ said The Gecko, looking around him. ‘What a shit fight. Have a look at that bloody fence.’ He walked over to the handball court, then back to Les inside the sheltered part. ‘Bloody hell!’ he muttered, looking at the bird shit. ‘I wouldn’t mind having the guano contract on the place.’ There was a small wooden door Les hadn’t noticed before, built up from the floor and into the wall. Garrick opened it and got a blast of sour, mildewed air coming from the rubbish, slime and filthy water inside. He quickly slammed it and pointed to some brown stains running down the walls above their heads. ‘God! Have a look at the rust coming out of the walls. That’s all the iron supports in the foundations rusting away.’ Major Lewis had another look around and shook his head in disgust. ‘This place is a fuckin’ disgrace. It’s absolutely filthy.’
‘You trying to say you wouldn’t have it in your regiment, Major?’
‘My regiment?’ The major snorted some air out of his nostrils. ‘We’re doing them a favour blowing the dump up.’
Les nodded and smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I said when I first saw the joint.’
‘The thing is, though,’ said the major, slowly picking at his chin, ‘I might need to be a bit more careful than I thought. Too much and the whole bloody shemozzle might go.’
Norton’s smile disappeared and he got a sudden, awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. I knew it. I just bloody knew it.
‘Though the floor here doesn’t seem to be in too bad a condition,’ said Garrick, banging his foot on the ground out from the shelter a couple of times. ‘Anyway, only one way to find out.’ The Gecko put his overnight bag on the ground and began to unzip it. ‘You can . . . stand at ease, Les.’
‘Thank you, Major — sir.’ Les smiled, threw the major half a salute then leant up against the brick columns supporting the shelter.
Major Lewis pulled a black plastic and metal device from his overnight bag, about the same size as a school-kid’s pencil case. It had a kind of small aerial at one end, a screen and a number of buttons and switches. He flicked a switch on the side; the screen lit up in blue and a thin shaft of red light came from the aerial. Les had seen something like it before: a laser pointer. But he imagined this one would be for calculating depth and dimensions and probably just about everything else.
Garrick began pointing it around and pressing different buttons while he wrote down different numbers and calculations on a small pad. He walked up and down the whole area, looked out the hole in the wall a few times, even checked out the caretaker’s unit above. But mainly he moved the device around where the bodies were buried in a very careful grid pattern, stopping now and again as if he was concerned about something. Norton didn’t have much of a clue as to what he was doing, but it was beautiful just standing there watching a genius at work. After a while The Gecko gave the area a grudging nod of approval, switched the device off, then walked over to where Les was standing and put it back in his overnight bag along with the writing pad.
‘Well, I can’t see any real problems, Les,’ he said, dragging the ‘real’ out a little.
‘Any reealll problems,’ echoed Norton.
‘That old fence and the wall up there. They’ll more than likely come down. But they should land in that far comer, along with the tree. And that wall there.’ Garrick pointed to the wall overlooking the ocean with the hole it. ‘That’ll go. So I’m thinking there’ll be besser bricks and shit all over the rocks below, which could make it a bit tricky scrambling down there in the dark, dragging two bodies.’
‘You could sprain an ankle if you’re not careful.’
Major Lewis stared directly at Norton. ‘Exactly, Les. Exactly. However, the force and heat of the explosion should cauterise a lot of it together, possibly giving us a smooth passage.’
‘And blowing out all this concrete and shit underneath us. That’s all sweet?’
The Gecko nodded slowly towards the floor. ‘Yeah. It’s a little thicker than I thought. But I’ve made several soundings and gone over my calculations thoroughly. So it shouldn’t be any problem. The blast plus the heat will layer that off out into the ocean and it should end up looking like a billiard table underneath. We’ll dig them out easy. It’ll be a piece of cake, Les.’
‘A piece of cake,’ repeated Norton.
The Gecko looked from the concrete floor up at Les. ‘Eddie did say two bodies — didn’t he?’
‘Yeah. A boxer and some cop. Why?’
Major Lewis shook his head. ‘Oh nothing, Les. Nothing.’
Norton shrugged his shoulders. ‘Anyway, Garrick, all that coffee’s gone through me. I got to have a leak.’
‘Yes, not a bad idea,’ agreed Major Lewis. ‘I could do with one myself.’
‘What about underneath those two wall boxes with the bird shit all over them,’ suggested Norton. ‘Give it an extra ambience.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Les unzipped his fly, The Gecko pulled down the front of his tracksuit pants, then they chose a cabinet each and began piddling away. Les was enjoying the relief of a good pee and nonchalantly watching the stream of froth and yellow water near his feet, making sure he didn’t step in it, when he casually glanced over at Major Lewis to see how he was going. Norton gave a double, triple blink. At first he thought the major was standing there pissing with one knee up. But no, circumcised, with a great, big purple head on it like an eggplant, was the biggest dick Les had ever seen. It was hard to tell its exact width and length. But it was a monster. Bloody hell! thought Les. If I owned that I’d put a shoe on it and make it do its own walking. Shit! The major was casually pissing away, no hands, his dick sitting on the top of his tracksuit pants, when Norton’s eyes narrowed and he had a closer look. Tattooed down one side was another gecko in the same colours as the one tattooed on his arm. Norton chuckled to himself. Now I know the other reason you got that nickname ‘The Gecko’, Major. Christ! I wonder what that gecko ends up looking like when he gets that thing going. One of those giant dragon lizards they got in Borneo. Les shook his head in admiration. Well, hats off to you again, Major Lewis. You never fail to impress. And one thing’s for sure, you’ll never get charged with rape having a cock like that. It’d be assault with a deadly weapon. Norton zipped up his fly and turned around to find the major had finished too.
‘Well, what do you want to do now, Garrick? You got enough info here?’
The major nodded. ‘Yes. I might come back down again tomorrow. If not, I’ll just do it Friday night as planned.’
‘Okay, we might as well get going then.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat soon. I’m getting a bit peckish. How about you, Les?’
‘Good idea. We’ll go home and get cleaned up a bit first. Then I’ll take you somewhere decent.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ replied Major Lewis, picking up his overnight bag. ‘Let’s go.’
They left the way they came; down the steps then hop, step and jumping across the rocks. The southerly caught a bigger wave, hitting the rocks, so they both copped some spray and got their clothing a little wet. But it was no big deal. If anything, it was a bit of a buzz and the cool sea spray was both bracing and refreshing. Like Les did earlier, they avoided the sandy trail, preferring to take the steps at the end of Notts Avenue.
As they went past the vacant lot, Major Lewis spoke. ‘Les, you know when we were in the handball court having a leak?’
‘Yeah,’ grunted Norton.
‘Well, I had this feeling someone was watching me.’
Les coloured a bit. He wasn’t sure what the major was on about and whether he was having a bit of a go at him for staring at his massive tool. ‘No,’ replied Norton, shaking his head adamantly, ‘I didn’t see anybody around.’
‘Mmmhh. I just had this feeling someone was watching me.’
Les still wasn’t sure if the major was having a bit of a go at him, but there was a certain tone in his voice. ‘To tell you the truth, though, I got the same feeling when I was dow
n here earlier. But I think it was one of those two Russian fishermen I was telling you about.’
‘What do they look like, Les?’
Norton shrugged. ‘One’s a big bloke. Big chest, grey hair. The other’s younger. Fitter, kind of lean-looking.’
‘Dark, gaunt kind of face. Malevolent, sort of?’
‘Yeah, I s’pose you could say that, Garrick. Why?’
‘Oh, nothing, Les. Nothing.’ The Gecko smiled and his tongue flicked over his lips. ‘Come on. Let’s get back to the flat. That quick burst of sea air has put quite an edge on my appetite.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
They continued up Notts Avenue and headed towards Lamrock.
Back at the flat, the major said he wanted to get changed, then check a few of his calculations while they were fresh in his mind; he said he’d be about thirty minutes. This suited Les. He had a shave in Susie’s en suite, then changed into a blue Australian Surfer Headquarters T-shirt and got a beer from the fridge. He sipped it in the lounge room while he fiddled around, taping a few more tracks from the seemingly inexhaustible supply of CDs.
Les was tapping his foot to an old James Brown number, ‘Too Funky In Here’, when The Gecko came out, closing the bedroom door behind him. He was wearing the same trousers as earlier with a short-sleeved blue denim shirt, minus the vest and cap. Les turned the stereo right down and smiled.
‘So how’d you go, Garrick? Everything looking all right?’
Major Lewis nodded. ‘Yes, as good as gold.’
‘Okay, then what say we go and have a bite to eat.’
‘That sounds like a good idea to me, Les.’
‘We’ll go over to the Hakoah Soccer Club. It’s only about two minutes from here and I’m a member. The food’s real good. Go for the roast veal and vegies. They serve it with this creamed spinach you’d kill for.’
The Gecko nodded his head again. ‘I can relate to that, Les. I’ve had to kill people over food before.’ Norton finished his bottle of beer and dropped the empty in the kitchen tidy. Yes, I can relate to that. He switched off the stereo, hit the security buttons and they headed for the Hakoah.
By the time they got there and Les had signed Garrick in, they’d managed to miss the screaming hordes in the restaurant getting into the $4 specials. So it was fairly civilised as they pushed their trays along the rail and filled their plates with roast veal, vegies, creamed spinach, Waldorf salad, pasta salads, beetroot with horseradish, and all sorts of other tasty things from the salad bar, plus beautiful, fresh bread rolls and bottles of mineral water. Les paid and they settled down at a table near the stairs, Les with his back to the front entrance. As they were eating, Les glanced over to where he’d been sitting the time he bumped Kelvin Kramer in the club. That caper with KK ended up involving nuclear weapons and he hoped this wasn’t some sort of weird coincidence. Whatever Norton’s thoughts, the food in front of him soon shifted them to the back of his mind; it was delicious. The major wasn’t quite as good on the tooth as Les. But when Norton went over and got two coffees, The Gecko came back big on the bread rolls. He spread several thick with butter and monstered them one after the other.
‘Well, what did you think, Garrick?’ asked Norton. ‘Good food?’
‘Delicious, Les,’ smiled the major. ‘An excellent choice. Thank you for bringing me here.’
Les shrugged. ‘It was a pleasure, mate.’ Norton was pleased he’d brought the major somewhere good. He was a strange bloke in a way; especially with that cynical kind of smile. But for some reason, making The Gecko happy made Les happy. ‘Your wife a good cook, Garrick?’ Norton asked, looking over the top of his coffee. ‘What’s she like in the kitchen?’
‘Pretty good,’ enthused the major. ‘Her father’s Spanish. So we get lots of paellas and things. If you’ve ever watched “Floyd On The Mediterranean”. Well, whatever he cooks, we get.’
Les gave a grudging nod of approval. ‘You could do a lot worse than that, mate.’
The Gecko settled into his seat and looked evenly at Les for a few moments, his piercing green eyes seeming to take everything in. He had that odd lizard smile on his face that still kept throwing Norton off. When he was smiling, it looked almost like he wasn’t. And when he wasn’t, it somehow looked like he was.
‘Did I ever tell you how I met my wife, Les?’ he said casually.
Les kind of nodded and shook his head at the same time. ‘You said something about Vietnam.’
‘That’s right.’ The major eased a little closer over the table. ‘You see, Les. I like really rough sheilas.’
‘Rough?’ Norton wasn’t quite sure how to take this. Was the major a trifle bent? Or was it because of his monster donger that was all he could get?
‘Yeah, Les. The rougher and more horrible the better. I met her at a party in Bien Hoa. A nurses’ party. I walked in, got full of ink and said to the sheila running the show, point me out the roughest, most uncouth nurse in the place. And she introduced me to Quireda. So I got her pissed on rum, dragged her back to my quarters and ripped all her clothes straight off, which she copped sweet. So while she was standing there with no gear on. I got a cigar out of my drawer and a box of those American wax matches. I stuck the cigar in my mouth, struck the match on her tits, lit it and blew a big cloud of smoke in her face.’
‘Shit! What did she say?’
‘Nothing. Not a word. So I started getting my gear off to give her one. When I turned around though, she was standing there, bent over, the cheeks of her arse spread apart and her date stuck up in the air. I said to her. What are you doing? And you know what she said, Les?’
‘No, Garrick. What did she say?’
‘She said, “I just thought you might like to open a couple of bottles of beer before we get started.” Now how are you not going to fall in love with a woman like that?’
‘Yeah,’ nodded Les dumbly. ‘I . . . suppose it’d be pretty hard not to.’
The Gecko’s green eyes never left Norton’s. ‘But even though I’m happily married. I still get a stray root if I want one.’
‘You do?’
The Gecko nodded. ‘My sister-in-law lives on the farm and she’s got a glass eye. She takes it out and lets me root her in the socket.’
‘Ohh, come on, Garrick. Give me a break. That’s awful.’
‘Hey! Don’t knock it,’ enthused Major Lewis. ‘It’s one of the best roots I’ve ever had.’
Norton shook his head. ‘No, count me out.’
‘All right. But I’m telling you, Les, it’s the grouse. It’s better than any root or blow job I’ve ever had. You should come up some time and give it a go.’
Norton shook his head again. ‘No, I’m pretty right, thanks.’
The Gecko gave a bit of a shrug. ‘Oh well, please yourself. But if ever you change your mind, let me know when you’re coming and I’ll tell my sister-in-law to keep an eye out for you.’ Major Lewis stood up. ‘Toilets over there, Les?’
‘Yeah, just down to the right.’
‘Thanks. That bloody coffee does go through you, doesn’t it.’
During the major’s absence Les sat and stared into his coffee. He didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or just bang his head on the table. The Gecko had him completely flummoxed. He just never ceased to amaze. And if he’d only get that smile off his face when they were together, so Les could tell where he was coming from now and again.
The major returned, sat down and took a sip of coffee, then started picking at another bread roll.
‘So what do you fancy doing now, Garrick?’ asked Les. ‘You want to go home and watch a bit of TV or . . .’
‘To be honest, Les, I wouldn’t mind going for just a couple of quiet drinks. Not a pub or a club. Something different. You know a quiet bar round here?’
‘Actually I do know a place we can go.’
‘Yeah? Whereabouts?’
‘Just down the beachfront. It’s called Redwoods. Come on, I’ll tell you about it on the way down.’
>
‘Okay.’ The major followed Les out the front doors of the club, then down Hall Street.
Redwoods had only been open about a month or so and Les had been a fairly regular customer since almost the first week. It was in Campbell Parade near the old Biltmore Hotel, about two doors from where some builders were currently renovating an old block of flats. Norton happened to be walking past one afternoon and a couple of blokes he knew were sitting just inside, so he joined them for a few cool ones and had been going back ever since. The place seemed to have something about it. Two removable sliding glass doors stood just above the footpath and inside was all solid wooden furniture, wooden floors and cream-coloured stucco walls dotted with round decals of various sizes that looked something like old Aztec calendars. A long, L-shaped bar angled out from the wall on the right as you entered and ran down to a couple of steps leading to the toilets, the kitchen and another two eating areas out the back. The bar was more solid wood, with seating for about fifteen, and started under a glass cabinet holding a couple of Redwoods T-shirts and finished at the coffee machine. Behind this was a door which led to a fire escape and a storage area. The bar was well stocked with shelves full of liquor and was split by a large, solid wooden cupboard crammed with more liquor; the staff had pinned different banknotes to the shelves and placed a fluffy, brown muppet doll on the end of one. Speakers in the comers played easy rock, fans hummed languidly from the ceiling and, besides the soft restaurant lighting, several pinpoints of light hung over the bar, giving Redwoods a pleasant and extra touch of atmosphere.
The drinks were always good, the service friendly and the food was tops. You could get anything from a Cajun chicken burger with tabouli, yoghurt and tomato relish, to a grilled sirloin with onion chutney and wedges, to a mixed board of sushi, to tomato and boc-concini salad with basil and rocket. Another thing Les liked about Redwoods was the doorman. He was a big, black American called Jee. Jee was built like a linebacker or something for the LA Rams, with closecropped hair, but he had a huge infectious white smile that was almost as big as he was. Everybody liked him and he had the knack of making everybody feel welcome; especially Les. The owner was a different kettle of fish — a tall, rangy bloke with dark hair and a broken nose, who everybody called Marty. The rumour was, Marty was a helicopter pilot and made a bundle flying choppers during the Gulf War, which was how he bought the restaurant. Les thought it was a good story; though at over six feet four he just couldn’t picture Marty leaping in and out of helicopters in a hurry.
The Day of the Gecko Page 9
