by Des Hunt
When he had the rear wheels in the deepest mud and aimed back at us, he gave the motor full throttle. The wheels spun, throwing up gunk that blasted at us so strongly that it almost knocked me over. I turned away, but there was no escaping the stuff. It kept coming and coming as the tyres skidded into new areas.
And it was not only mud. We were also peppered with snails, cockles, crabs and whatever else was buried below the surface. Each hit felt as though something had been embedded deep into the skin. I don’t remember screaming, but I’m sure we did. The pain was too intense not to.
How long did it last? I don’t know. Too long. Long enough for me to think it would never end. I’m sure Hotchkins would have kept it up until they ran out of petrol, he was enjoying it so much. However, Nature took over before it reached that stage. The tyres dug through the mud into hard sand. There, they gripped enough to move the buggy forward. Harry had to either let it keep going or stop. He chose the first option, and soon they were on their way. The last view I got as they disappeared over the sand dunes was of Brett Hotchkins punching the air with his fists, celebrating his victory.
We argued most of the way home. Not about whether we would seek revenge, but about the form it should take.
Surprisingly, we weren’t injured. When we’d washed off all the gunk there was nothing physically damaged, just our pride.
Dean wanted a full-out attack on the Redferns’ place. It was much the same old ‘blow them away’ argument, except this time he brought the Steel Pelicans into it.
‘No one messes with the Steel Pelicans like that,’ he ranted.
Afi gave me a puzzled look. ‘Steel Pelicans?’ he asked.
Dean turned on me. ‘What!’ he cried. ‘You haven’t told him about the Steel Pelicans?’
I tried to keep calm. ‘The Steel Pelicans is what we called ourselves in Wollongong,’ I explained. ‘It was our crew.’
‘Everyone knew the Steel Pelicans,’ added Dean. ‘And they knew not to mess with us.’
That was not how I remembered it, but I let it go.
‘How many were there?’ asked Afi.
‘Just us two,’ I said.
‘Didn’t need any more,’ said Dean. ‘We were a force to be reckoned with.’
‘So,’ said Afi, quietly, ‘the Steel Pelicans would seek revenge with an explosion. What would you blow up?’
‘That beach buggy,’ replied Dean.
‘All right. So we blow it up when it’s sitting in the section? Is that right?’
‘Yeah!’
‘And when they come out to see what’s happening, what do we do?’
‘We run, of course,’ said Dean. ‘With the right fuse, we’ll be out of there before it goes up.’
Afi nodded as if he was agreeing. Then he said, ‘But they’ll know it was us. Who else would it be? You say they shouldn’t mess with the Steel Pelicans — well, you can bet your life that whatever you can dish out, those Redferns will come back ten times worse. You might be gone by then, but Pete and I will still be around.’
‘What would you do, then?’ asked Dean, almost in a whine.
‘I think we should stick to the original plan. That way the buggy will blow up by itself and we’ll get the evidence that will put all of them in prison. The important thing is to make sure we do it properly.’
I nodded my agreement.
‘Dean?’ asked Afi.
There was no answer.
‘Can I take that as a yes?’
‘No! But why bother asking? Whatever I say, you’ll still do it your way, won’t you?’
Chapter 23
One thing that had always worried me about our plan was the dog. We had to get into the section and put the bleach in the buggy without the dog barking. From what I’d seen of the animal, I didn’t think that throwing it a few biscuits would keep it quiet for long. If it barked and we got caught, then our plan would fall apart right at the start.
On Saturday morning I decided to help Bee feed Pato, hoping to pump her for information about the dog. When I joined her, she was trying to get the duck interested in chook pellets.
‘Is he eating them?’ I asked.
‘Nah,’ she said, without looking up at me. ‘He doesn’t seem to want to eat anything.’
‘Do you want to try him on some crabs?’
This time she looked up. ‘Have you got some?’
I nodded. ‘I’ll go get them.’
We’d put them in the fridge the previous day. The idea was to slow them down so that they were easier for Pato to catch.
I sat beside Bee and sprinkled a few crabs onto the grass. The things had enough energy to wave their pincers at us, but not enough to scurry away. Pato saw them and moved his head closer. He seemed to like what he saw. A moment later his beak snapped and one crab was gone. Two more snaps and they were all gone. He looked up at me as if expecting more.
‘He likes them,’ said Bee, with a smile.
He certainly did. It took half of our supplies to satisfy him.
‘We’ll have to get some more,’ said Bee.
This was my opportunity. ‘That could be dangerous,’ I said. ‘When we got them yesterday we were attacked by your brother and Brett Hotchkins. They used the beach buggy to spray mud at us.’
Bee remained silent.
‘We want revenge.’
‘What do you want to do?’ she asked quietly.
‘Put bleach in the engine of the beach buggy. That will stop it going.’
‘Good!’ she said. ‘I hate that thing.’ She leant over and stroked Pato. ‘They used it to catch him and his mate.’
I nodded. It was easy to imagine Hotchkins and Harry in the beach buggy, screaming around, twirling a fishing line as if it were a lasso.
‘The trouble is,’ I said, ‘what happens when we get over the fence?’
Bee’s eyes went wide. ‘You’re climbing the fence?’
‘It’s the only way.’
She shook her head. ‘You can’t do that?’
‘Why not?’
‘You just can’t.’
We sat in silence for a time. I was the one who eventually broke it. ‘Will you do it for us? Put the bleach in the engine?’
‘I know nothing about engines. And don’t want to.’
More silence followed, before Bee asked, ‘You won’t go near the garage, will you?’
‘No. We only need to get to the buggy.’
‘All right then,’ she said. ‘I’ll help. What do you want me to do?’
‘It’s the dog. We don’t want to be bitten.’
Bee burst out laughing. ‘Bitten! By Jaylo? She might lick you to death, but she’d never bite.’
‘She looks and sounds fierce enough,’ I said. ‘Isn’t she a pitbull?’
‘No,’ said Bee. ‘Staffordshire terrier. She looks fierce, but she’s not. Not with me anyway.’
‘So you can stop her from barking?’
She nodded.
‘Good! Then that is all you have to do.’
‘When?’
I hesitated. This was the tricky part. ‘When are your dad and brother going out fishing again?’
Immediately she was back on the defensive. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘We want the buggy to break down on the beach so that you don’t get back to the house until it’s daylight. We want to photograph the boxes being unloaded.’
‘No! No!’ said Bee, moving away from me. ‘You don’t want anything to do with those boxes.’
‘Yes!’ I insisted. ‘We need evidence of the cigarette smuggling.’
‘No! Stay away from them.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘If we give you the camera, will you take some photos for us?’
She jumped to her feet. ‘Are you mad? Have you any idea what they’d do to me if I was caught?’
I reached out my hand. ‘It’s all right, Bee. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’
She i
gnored my hand, but calmed down enough to move back to the grass. For several minutes we sat watching Pato grooming his feathers.
Eventually it was Bee who broke the silence. ‘If I do help you with the buggy, will it get that Hotchkins animal in trouble?’
‘Yes.’ Then I decided to come clean. ‘And your father and brother.’
She gave a little snort. ‘They’re always in trouble. It’s that other one I want caught.’
‘Then this will do that,’ I said in my most convincing voice.
The silence lasted longer this time.
‘Tomorrow night,’ she whispered. ‘There’s a delivery due tomorrow night.’
Sunday! That would be perfect. We’d have all the evidence we needed before we had to leave on Tuesday.
Bee continued, ‘They’ll have the boat hooked on and ready to go by five o’clock. Then they’ll have a beer. I feed Jaylo at half-past. Come then.’
I nodded. ‘Don’t do anything dangerous.’
Another snort. ‘Oh, I’ll look after myself,’ she said. ‘It’s you lot who need to worry.’ With that she got up and walked away.
Matt took us kontiki fishing on Saturday afternoon.
I hadn’t yet told the others about my conversation with Bee. I wanted to think it all through before I let Dean into the secret. I needed answers to any ideas he might raise. The fishing trip was a good chance to do some thinking.
I’d expected that Dean would have been fascinated by the electric kontiki and the way it carried out the line. However, he hardly took any notice as we baited the hooks and then watched the torpedo motoring off through the waves.
Twenty minutes later, when it was all the way out, Afi suggested we climb the sand hills. I was keen, but Dean claimed he had a headache.
‘Do you want some paracetamol?’ asked Matt.
‘Nah. I’ll just go and lie down,’ he said, walking off before we had a chance to comment.
I stared after him, suddenly suspicious.
‘Is the shed locked?’ I asked.
Matt answered, ‘No. Why? What’s the problem?’
‘Dean tried to take the quad bike yesterday,’ said Afi. ‘He might try again.’
Matt fished in his pocket and brought out a key. ‘Well he won’t be successful, will he?’
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Matt put the key away. He waved a hand at us. ‘Now get out of here, you two. I need a snooze.’
There’s not a lot to do in sand hills except jump off the top and climb back up again. Still, that kept us occupied for the hour until it was time for the line to come in.
Matt was sound asleep in the cab when we got back. If he’d been dreaming about catching a full line of fish, then he was almost right. The line was loaded. A few had to be thrown back. Others were huge: too big for frying, according to Matt, but perfect for smoking.
Dean was nowhere to be found when we returned to the bach. Tiresa had spoken to him when he first arrived and then forgotten all about him. She never saw him leave.
With fish and chips on the menu that night, we boys were sent off to the takeaways bar to get the chips.
Dean arrived just before we left. He said nothing about where he’d been and no one asked. If he’d been trying to sort out some worries, then it must have worked, because he was more cheerful than I’d seen him over the past couple of days.
After placing the order, we sat outside and I told them about my conversation with Bee. Afi looked relieved that I’d sorted out the problem with the dog. I think he must have been worrying about it, too. Surprisingly, Dean agreed to the plan without any objection. Both were pleased that it was Sunday night: that meant we had all Monday to collect the evidence before Mum picked us up on Tuesday. The timing couldn’t have been better.
The sunset that day was the best I’d seen at Sunset Beach. Dean was suitably impressed. Like me, he saw the parallel with that special sunrise in Wollongong.
He pointed to the Norfolk pine. ‘Remember that morning?’ he asked.
I nodded.
‘That tree would be the perfect place for Frosty’s mate to sit. They could look at each other over the Tasman Sea.’
‘Who’s Frosty?’ asked Afi.
So we told him. Dean did most of the talking, telling the story without any exaggeration or ravings about Steel Pelicans. He did a good job. The only thing he left out was where he’d found Frosty. I was glad about that.
Neither of us spoke of how we had felt that morning. For me it was too personal to share. Anyway, we didn’t get the chance, because we’d scarcely finished the story when Brett Hotchkins arrived in the beach buggy.
He walked past us without a glance, throwing the door open and marching up to the counter. I watched him, hoping he’d stay inside and leave us alone.
Fat chance!
As soon as the order was placed, he came straight outside and stood over us.
‘How’s the skin, playboys?’ he sneered. ‘Had any mud massages lately?’
‘Go away, Hotchkins,’ I said. ‘You had your fun yesterday. Now leave us alone. We’re on holiday.’
He leant forward. ‘I’m never going to leave you alone, Kelly,’ he snarled. ‘Not until I’ve totally destroyed you.’
Dean jumped to his feet. ‘Leave him alone!’
Hotchkins gave him his dog-turd look. ‘And who are you?’
‘I’m his mate.’
‘Oh yippee! We have another true-blue Aussie here, don’t we?’ He took a step closer to Dean. ‘Well let me tell you, mate, that around here we don’t like Aussies. In fact we spit on them.’
He then did just that.
Dean lunged at him, screaming swear words and swinging his fists. My legs were stuck under the table and it took me a moment to clear them. Fortunately, Afi must have been anticipating something would happen, because he was on his feet and had his arms wrapped around Dean before any of the punches made contact.
‘No, Dean!’ I yelled. ‘It’s not worth it.’
‘Let me go!’ he yelled.
‘Yeah!’ said Hotchkins. ‘Let him go, so I can smash him.’
‘Stop it!’ yelled another voice. It was the cook from the takeaway bar. ‘Stop it! All of you! Or I call the cops.’
The cook was a big man, big enough to get even Hotchkins’ attention; the baseball bat the cook was holding probably helped, too. We stopped.
He turned to Hotchkins. ‘You! Get away from my shop. Every time you come here, there’s trouble.’ He raised the bat a little. ‘Go! And don’t come back.’
Hotchkins glared defiantly for a minute, before turning and moving to the beach buggy. He left in a spray of gravel that peppered the toilet block across the road.
With Hotchkins gone, the cook relaxed a little. ‘You want to keep away from that animal,’ he said. ‘He’s dangerous.’
Afi and I nodded. Dean was still so angry that he seemed to be frozen in place.
‘Your order is ready,’ said the cook. ‘Best you go, in case he comes back.’
We went.
Chapter 24
Sunday was a drag.
There was plenty that we could have done to help pass the time, but neither Afi nor I could raise the energy. Dean, however, went off mid-morning, saying he needed to think. Those were the first words he’d spoken since the fight at the takeaway bar. All through dinner and breakfast we could sense the tension in his body. Everyone had tried to pull him out of his mood, but without any response. It was almost a relief when he left.
Bee arrived and we fed Pato the last of the crabs. He seemed to be getting used to being alone. While he still called for his mate, it happened less frequently, and it was almost as if he didn’t expect any return calls. Sooner or later he would have to be returned to the wild, although I got the feeling that Bee wanted to look after him for a while longer. She and the duck seemed to have become quite close.
I asked Bee if things were still on for the night. She said they were. After that it was just a matter
of waiting.
Dean arrived back just before five. He didn’t say what he’d been doing for the past six hours, but whatever it was it had put him in a much better mood.
We discussed the arrangements, sorting out who would do what.
‘I need to go up the hill,’ said Afi. ‘This will be the last chance to photograph the yacht. I hope it’ll come in closer.’
That left Dean and me to do the thing at the Redferns’.
‘I’ll put the bleach in the engine,’ said Dean.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Afi. ‘You came up with the idea.’
‘So what do I do?’ I asked.
They had to think about that.
‘I’ll need help to get over the fence,’ said Dean.
And it would be good to have someone watching from our hideout,’ added Afi. ‘Just in case something goes wrong.’
So my role was fixed: ladder and lookout. Yippee!
We left almost immediately. Afi had his camera and Dean carried the bleach in a plastic bag. I had nothing.
Going past the track down to the beach, I looked out to sea and saw a yacht in quite close.
‘You think that’s the one?’ I asked Afi.
‘That’s the one I’ll photograph anyway,’ he replied. At that distance I might even get its name.’
‘That’s if it’s got one,’ said Dean.
‘We’ll see,’ said Afi, taking the path up to the top of the hill. ‘Good luck!’
I nodded, although I hoped we wouldn’t need luck.
Dean and I took the track around the swamp and along the drain to the back of the Redferns’ place. We hid in the bushes at the top of the sand hill.
There was no one in the yard. The dog was in its cage, and the beach buggy was facing the gate with the boat attached to the back.
‘Everything’s ready,’ I said. ‘It’s going to happen tonight.’
‘But not quite in the way they’re expecting,’ said Dean.
I glanced at him. His face was alive with excitement. I’d seen him like that many times before when the Steel Pelicans were in action. I much preferred that expression to the moody one he’d been wearing so often lately.
