by Peter Butler
'Hello. This is Sunny.'
'Good morning, Miss McGuire. This is Inspector Brice. I'm sorry to have to inform you that Simon Sexton passed away a short time ago.'
'Oh my God!' Sunny exclaimed. Her free hand clutched at her mouth as if to hold back any further words.
If the Inspector could have seen the expression on Sunny's face he would have been very keen to use his interrogative skills to uncover the reason.
***
I drove like I was trying to qualify for an F1 race. I was pretty sure that this time Sunny and I would get to actually race. Continuing the race-car metaphor, I was a lock for pole position and Sunny would be in charge of the pit.
It amuses me the way my mind darts off on little tangents from time to time. I needed to do this right now because I definitely didn't want the exquisite feeling that was surging through my body to end. Hence, by deflecting my mind onto a similar, but different subject, I could maintain my arousal, and hopefully control it, until bath time.
Then it hit me - Bev! Shit.. Shit! I hadn't heard back from Hector in Australia with the results of my blood tests. That did it. Before I knew it my pole position had been replaced with a seat in the grandstand.
I was stopped at a set of lights, mouthing obscenities and thumping my fists against the steering wheel when I glanced sideways. I saw a little girl in the car beside me looking at me with a terrified expression like I was a madman. I changed expression and smiled sweetly at her and she turned to her mother and said something. Clearly I need to work on my smile because mom gave me a filthy look. Some situations just can't be retrieved so I conceded defeat and fixed my look straight ahead, although I could still feel the visual daggers being hurled from the car beside me. Then it occurred to me that perhaps I could retrieve my situation. I extracted my phone from my pocket and found Hector's number just as the lights changed to green. I dialed as I sped off, figuring if I got a fine for making a call whilst driving it would be worth it - if I could get the answer I hoped for.
I was still a few minutes away from Sunny's place so the situation was salvageable if Hector had some good news for me. Sadly, he didn't. Well, actually he didn't pick up, which left me in limbo. I had no quarrel with Hector for not answering; after all it was the middle of the night down there.
I knocked on Sunny's front door and immediately noticed the new raw timber around the lock. It seems she has had some trouble, I hope everything is alright.
After a slightly longer time than I had expected the door opens and Sunny is standing there, in front of me. I'd been anticipating this moment, urgently needing this moment for a long time. But all my fantasies evaporated as I looked at her.
Firstly, in my warped fantasy she was either naked or loosely draped in a towel, in reality she was fully dressed - in jeans.
Secondly, tears were streaming down her face. That alone is an erection killer but when you add the bunch of soggy tissues she's holding, it's game, set and match for Little Gary; time to hang up the racket and balls.
Sunny rushes into my arms and buries her head in my chest. I hold her close and stroke her wet hair as I walk her backwards inside her apartment. I can feel my chest becoming wet through the shirt with her tears. I kick the door closed and maneuver her to the couch so we can sit.
She hasn't said anything so far, but being a perceptive, sensitive new-age guy, I realize she has a problem. A big problem if you measure problems by the number of tears they generate. I wait...
Eventually, 'Simon is dead,' she sobs into my chest,
This is big news. The guy who I suspected was responsible for my "lost" night a week or so ago is dead? He was around my age so natural causes seem unlikely. If I was right about him trying to drug Sunny that night, it's a better bet that drugs might be involved in his demise. Or maybe some woman he tried to drug and rape, murdered him... Sunny? - Oh God, no!
I ease her head away from my chest so I can look at her. 'How did he die, Sunny?' I ask, fearing the answer.
'A drug overdose, I think.' She is still sobbing, but talking about it seems to be helping her regain some control.
'Does this have anything to do with the damage to your door?'
'M..mm,' she nods, and the tears come again.
'Did he hurt you in any way, Sunny?' I ask, ready to kill him a second time if the answer is yes.
She looks at me and her face disintegrates. 'He broke into here and I found him naked on my bed...'
Sunny, in stuttered, broken sentences, slowly began to tell me the whole story. It took quite a while and almost a full box of tissues to get it out. She admitted that she wasn't going to tell me about her being raped, but decided to, because she wanted us to start with a clean sheet, so to speak, and ultimately she couldn't handle the burden of that knowledge alone, anymore.
I hated hearing what had happened to her, but I loved that she was prepared to share these horrible things that had come into her life... With me.
As her story unfolded towards the present time, she began to cry with more intensity. And then she said it. 'I killed him, Gary. I killed him.'
My mouth fell open and I gazed into her face. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, everything was spiraling out of control and heading for a massive crash and fireball.
'But Sunny, you told me he was unconscious when you found him. How could you have killed him?'
'I filled the syringe with whatever was in the bottle. I was going to put it in his arm. I wanted to make him pay for what he did to me. I wanted to hurt him...' She pulled another handful of tissues out and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. 'I couldn't do it. I held it above his arm, but I couldn't go through with it. I wiped my fingerprints off it and replaced them with Simon's, then I dropped it on the bed and went outside to wait for the ambulance.'
'Sunny, you didn't kill him. You didn't do anything. You just admitted that to me.'
'I wasted time, Gary. That's what killed him. A few minutes earlier and the doctors would have saved him.'
'You can't say that, Sunny. It's just not true. The way you told the story to me you had already called the ambulance before you tried to inject him. So, the time you used up contemplating doing it meant nothing. The ambulance was already on its way.'
She finally realized what had happened, her guilt had prevented her from reasoning correctly and her tears began to dry. She looked at me intensely. I could see the weight had been taken away from her and her face slowly broke into a smile. She leaned closer and kissed me gently on the lips.
'Thank you, Gary,' she said, after the kiss. 'It seems I need you around to make sense of my life.'
'And don't you ever forget it,' I said as I grabbed at her and pulled her close and kissed her. I felt her hand slide up my leg, heading straight for Little Gary who was already doing his best to meet her half way. Sunny gently ran her fingers over the bump in the material she had created. Keen not to be left out of the fun my hands had found some nice soft things to play with.
We kept kissing for a minute or two and I knew where this was going to end up so I reluctantly eased myself back from Sunny.
'What is the problem?' She asked, with a bewildered, almost hurt look on her face.
'You've just had some terrible news and so have I. I think we need to wait until...' I stopped talking because my phone began to ring. I fumbled for it in my pants pocket which was stretched tight because something large was already taking up most of the available space in that area. Eventually the phone came out and I quickly connected the call, grateful for the opportunity to come up with a good excuse why I couldn't make love with this woman, even though that was the one thing I wanted to do most in the whole world.
'Sorry I missed your call earlier, Gary,' a familiar Aussie accent said in my ear.
'That's okay, Hector. I apologize for calling you in the middle of the night.'
'I gathered what you would be calling about,' he chuckled. 'The results weren't in, so I called the lab and had one of the after-hours scientist
s give me what they had, over the phone. You're all clear, old son. No worries at all.'
'I love you, Hector.'
'Whoa! Back up soldier. I'm not that kind of girl,' Hector laughed down the phone.
'Seriously. Thank you for that. Your timing is brilliant. I've got to run, Hector, I'll call you soon. And by the way that thing I mentioned to you last time we spoke.'
'Yeah! I heard the news. It's gone badly pear-shaped, eh?'
'Hector,' I laughed, 'if I was you, I'd develop a massive taste for pears.'
I placed my phone down and turned back to Sunny.
She was looking at me like I'd been communicating in Russian. 'You joke about my cryptic take on the world...?'
I realized the half of the conversation that Sunny had heard would have made little sense, but there was no way I was sharing the meaning with her. 'That was Hector. A new Aussie friend I met on the plane. He has an ongoing joke with me. It would be too difficult to make any sense of it for you.'
She raised her eyebrows, questioningly at me. 'Before the call you were saying something about waiting...?'
I put my arm around her shoulder, then quickly brought the other one under her legs and picked her up. Our faces were inches apart and I kissed her gently... and firmly... and every way in-between. Then I pulled back and said, 'That was me just being pragmatic and not wanting to take advantage of you while you were so vulnerable.'
She looked at me questioningly, again.
'What can I say, I gave you some time - and you got better,' I grinned at her cheekily. 'Plus, I was overruled. My vote seems to be unimportant.'
'What the hell are you saying, Gary?'
'I'm saying I was overruled by Little Gary. It seems he's keen for a game of Heidi.'
Still cradling her in my arms I headed towards her bedroom. I laughed raucously.
Sunny had already started unbuttoning her blouse.
Chapter 11
Sydney, Australia. Four weeks later.
The sign at the front door of the ballroom advised that an "Extraordinary General Meeting of Plutarch Resources N.L." was taking place inside. This was the second smallest of the hotel's four ballrooms but still capable of holding up to 200 people. Inside about 100 remaining shareholders were sitting around enjoying the last of their free coffee and cakes. About twenty-five media people were packing up their camera gear and microphones. Print reporters were typing the final paragraphs of their stories into laptops along with any pictures they had taken, ready to email back to their editors and be in place in the Business Sections of their papers before the reporters had walked back to the car-park.
It had taken Truf and myself only a few minutes to take control of the meeting. Using the shares we controlled and the Proxy forms from Warra, Gran and Megan I called for the official vote for Chairman, Managing Director and Director. I was elected Chairman, and Truf and Tim were elected unopposed, as well. The remaining directors were left in place - for the time being. The Meeting was over in just a few minutes and was quite anticlimactic. The reporters had hoped for something explosive given the amount of media coverage Plutarch had received over the past few weeks. The company was considered a national disgrace and the entire Coal Seam Gas industry had been given a massive black-eye.
I had taken the stage after my election and announced that I had been in unofficial negotiation with the Environmental Protection Authority over any penalties that Plutarch would face over the environmental damage. I relayed to the shareholders that a fine of one million dollars had been arrived at, plus they required the best possible restoration of the billabong to its natural state, at the expense of the company.
The former Chairman, Charlie Forman and another Director, Wesley Reynolds, were making a hasty exit from the ballroom through a side door. Felix Geyer remained seated at the Directors table on the stage. He seemed reluctant to accept that he no longer had a job.
Truf approached him and leaned over the table placing his face only inches from Geyer's. 'You're done, Felix. As my first act as Managing Director I am advising you that you are fired... and the company will be seeking financial compensation from you for your actions.'
'English shit,' Felix spat the words at Truf. 'I should have cracked your skull open with the pool cue.'
'You should have done a lot of things, Felix,' Truf replied, nonplussed by Felix's outburst. 'Not the least would have been actually buying all those chemicals you have billed to the company and instead, pocketed the money. And the wages of the twenty-two extra employees on the payroll who don't exist and turned out to be you. You have a lot of Plutarch's money sitting in accounts somewhere. But don't worry we are well on the way to finding it.'
Felix's fist came out of nowhere and crashed into the side of Truf's face, sending him reeling back. But he didn't fall. The bulky German clambered over the table, smashing glasses and tumblers of water as he did, and crash-tackled him.
The room had suddenly gone deathly quiet, except for the noise of the fight on the stage. The cameramen quickly began to put their gear back into working order, but only one was already taping. Some shareholders had quickly activated their phones and were getting videos of the on-stage dramas.
When Felix crashed into Truf the two of them rolled on the floor. Truf brought up his knee as he fell and caught Felix in the stomach with it, driving the wind out of him, but not before he had connected with a second solid punch to Truf's cheek.
'Asshole, English shit,' Felix snarled like a wounded animal. He was still gasping for breath after his kneeing.
Both men weighed about the same, but Truf was considerably taller and had better reach, and, as it turned out, superior strength. Lying on his back with Felix draped over him Truf grabbed the German's jacket lapels and pushed him into the air, then he rolled him sideways. As Felix was falling, shoulder first to the floor, Truf was maneuvering his own body in the other direction. As Felix hit the wooden stage-floor with a boom, Truf's fist crashed into his nose, which exploded like a ripe grape into a red mist, accompanied with a satisfying crunch as the bone, along with the skin and cartilage, shattered and smashed.
'I warned you against this, Felix,' Truf said, grunting, as he lifted the stunned German to his feet, his nose pouring blood over his shirt and tie. 'Prepare for the worst pain of your life.' As he said it, he simultaneously crashed the side of both his fists into the German's ears. The resulting pressure wave instantly rammed down his ear canals, exploding both his eardrums.
The scream was heard at the end of the long hallway inside the hotels largest ballroom. It penetrated over the noise that the five hundred guests inside were making, causing a momentary lull in all conversations and curious, somewhat worried looks to be exchanged.
Truf stepped away from Felix, whose screams were causing his own ears to hurt. Hotel security people were scrambling onto the stage along with a host of others. Some keen to assist, some just curious to see what damage had been done. The cameras kept recording.
I looked beside me at Tim and said with a nod of my head, 'I guess we have just been promoted to lead story in the news.'
Sunny and Sammy were sitting beside Tim. Both women sat immobile, in stunned silence, their eyes were cringing at the ongoing screams that still came from the stage.
Sammy was first to react, jumping from her seat to run to her man. 'Oh Truf, you beautiful man. Did he hurt you?' She wrapped him in a bear-hug.
'I'm fine, sweetheart. But I think the cheek will heal quicker if you give it a little kiss.'
Sammy obliged and Truf smiled sheepishly at the cameras that were trained on them. This was all good PR for a company that had been kicked into the toilet for the past month. He could imagine the headlines, tomorrow. "Plutarch's new management disposes of the polluters." He found a lopsided smile forming on his face.
'You okay, Truf?' I asked as I patted him on the back. 'That was quite a show, pal. Remind me never to piss you off!' I grinned at him and watched as his cheek slowly swelled and turned a pale s
hade of blue.
The screams from Felix had begun to die down as the hotel's, hastily summoned resident doctor had just administered morphine to the belligerent patient.
A few minutes later the police arrived but as Truf had at least 50 eyewitnesses and numerous video versions of the event, he was allowed to go home with an assurance that Felix Geyer would face the full force of the law after he had recovered from his surgeries.
Sophie and Sky were flying in tomorrow and with the help of Sunny and Sammy we intended to do a complete forensic study of the financial state of Plutarch Resources.
Sunny had managed to get a bag of ice from the kitchen staff for Truf's face and he and Sammy left for their room on level 13. Sammy nursing the ice against his face as he walked off with his arm around her shoulder.
'They make a lovely couple,' Sunny said as she watched them leave.
'Not as lovely as you and me,' I quipped. 'And on that subject, young lady, you promised me a banquet which you still haven't delivered on. It's payday girl. I don't know if you noticed, but our room has a rather large Jacuzzi.' I leered, suggestively at her. 'I suggest we celebrate the fact that you are banging the Chairman of a Stock Exchange listed company, by downing a couple of bottles of Moet, some prawns and some Morten Bay Bugs - you'll love them.' I paused, then added, 'and quite a few mouthfuls of Sunny.'
'Ha!' she retorted. 'Banging the Chairman...' she made an unflattering raspberry sound. 'You've only had the job for five minutes and you've already got a swollen head.'
I smiled sheepishly at her, and said, 'As long as you are near me, my love, that can never happen. Remember where Little Gary gets his blood supply from?'
***
Three weeks later Truf and I called a press conference. Actually, it was called by our newly retained Press Consultant, a chap by the name of Frank Spiller. Because of Truf's new found status and media celebrity I happily handed the proceedings over to him. The event had a near capacity turn out, which according to Frank is as rare as hen's teeth for a penny-dreadful company. I need to talk to him about that reference, now that we run that penny-dreadful. It's more than a little offensive. Especially so, coming from our own PR man.
