Prohibited Zone (15 page)

‘Who are you?' asked Janeway. ‘Jesus fucken Christ?'

‘No, his brother.'

‘I didn't know Jesus had a brother.'

‘No, I'm
Steve's
brother.'

‘Oh, is that right?' He looked around. ‘I think we can handle another West. Eh, boys?'

The boys were all grinning.

‘I wouldn't mess with him, mate,' I said. ‘He's got a black belt in karate.'

‘Brown belt,' said Luke, keeping his eyes on Janeway and his fists tight. ‘And it's tae kwon do.'

The boys laughed.

‘Shit, I thought you would have had a black belt by now.'

‘It takes time.'

‘Anyway, a brown belt is pretty good.'

‘Thanks.'

‘You could probably still lick these guys with a brown belt.'

‘Will you guys shut up?' said Kara.

‘Yeah, shut up, Westie,' said Janeway. ‘You're getting on her nerves, and mine.'

For the first time I noticed Chook and Ritten. They had been leaning on a beige car parked on the road, each sucking a can of beer. Now they walked over, both in the same clothes they had been wearing when I had seen them in Pimba and both carrying lengths of four-b'-two.

‘G'day, Chook,' I called. ‘How're they hanging?'

Chook shrugged. ‘Sorry about this, Westie.'

‘No need to be sorry,' said Janeway. ‘It's just business. Westie gives us the little Afghan bitch and we're gone, no drama.' He was still staring at me. ‘That's all we want, West, the little Afghan bitch you smuggled to Adelaide.'

‘What are you offering?' I asked.

‘West!' hissed Kara.

‘He said it was business. I'm just curious.'

‘Here's the deal,' said Janeway. ‘You hand over the bitch and we don't re-shape your face. Does that satisfy your curiosity?'

‘What do you want her for?'

‘The reward, what else? You're smart, West, I'll give you that.'

‘Two thousand bucks each,' said Hose. ‘Not bad for a weekend's work.' Mathematics probably wasn't his strong point, or maybe he counted Chook and Ritten as one.

‘Talking of work,' said Janeway, ‘I suppose we'd better do some. Chook, Ritten, go and see if Westie's ute needs any bodywork.'

‘No, it's fine,' I said.

‘Is atta momen',' said Ritten. His lank mullet was managing to resist the wind, sitting flat against his skull.

‘C'mon, Westie,' said Chook. ‘Don't make us do it. Give up the girl. She's gotta go back to the centre anyway. What's wrong with us earning a little dinero from it?'

‘What would you do with her?' I asked Janeway.

‘Hand her over to the cops, what else? That's how we cash in.'

‘How about it, Westie?' asked Chook.

I said nothing, and after a moment he shrugged and joined Ritten in inspecting the ute. They had put their beers on the ground.

‘There's a big den' 'ere,' called Ritten.

‘Where?' yelled back Janeway, looking at me with his wild eyes and wearing his unnatural grin.

‘'Ere', said Ritten, and swung his piece of four-b'-two at the passenger door. He was right; there was a big dent there.

‘There's one here, too,' said Chook, deciding he might as well join in. He brought his four-b'-two down on the driver's side. Soon they had discovered dents in every panel, and the bonnet as well. Janeway didn't take his eyes off me, but at every thud of wood on metal his grin grew just a little more. Rain was spattering down but somehow the sun was still coming through, bathing us in a clear yellow light. I could see his face in every detail – the pores in his skin and his urge to do violence. Bozo, who had initially wanted to be friendly with the guests, started barking.

‘Bozo, leave it,' said Luke. Bozo barked louder.

‘What's the
matter
with you, Janeway?' I said. ‘This is crazy.'

He kept on grinning. ‘This isn't crazy. Wait until I do fucken
crazy
.' He raised his voice so that Ritten and Chook could hear. ‘I think the windscreen might be busted, too, fellas.'

‘Yeah, yer right,' called Ritten, taking a big swing at it. ‘Fuck!' he shouted as the windscreen shattered. His four-b'-two had become stuck in the windscreen and he had to yank it free, spraying himself with fragments of glass as he did. He dropped his four-b'-two and clutched at his face. ‘I got some glass in me fucken oi.' His voice quivered. ‘Fuck!' Chook tried to help but Ritten backed away from him, still clutching his eye. The rain was getting heavier, the wind was strong, the light was still clear. Ritten kept backing away from Chook and towards the edge of the cliff.

Janeway had turned to see what was going on. ‘Stop, Ritten, you stupid prick,' he yelled. Ritten stopped, but he was so close to the edge by now that in the act of stopping he overbalanced. He suddenly realised what was about to happen and flapped his hands in front of him in an attempt to regain his balance; it looked more like he was waving goodbye. His left eye was closed, his right eye was open as wide as it could go and there was rain and a look of terror on his face. Then he toppled over. Chook rushed to the edge and looked down.

‘Jesus! He's probably broken his neck,' he said; then he cackled nervously. He started to run towards the foot ramp, which was the second-fastest way of getting to the base of the cliff.

Janeway had turned back to stare at me. ‘If he's broken his neck there's no hurry,' he called. ‘If he hasn't, there's still no hurry. We'll get him in a minute.' Chook stopped in mid-stride, a comic silhouette against the sky.

‘Clever team you've put together, Janey,' I said.

‘Yeah, they're a couple of clowns,' he said. ‘But don't worry about it. These guys – ' he indicated his three bald colleagues and licked his lips again – ‘these guys all have medical degrees. They're itching to do some plastic surgery on your face. So stop being a smart-arse and just give us the Afghan bitch.'

‘I don't even know where she is.'

‘Your lady friend knows, though. Maybe we'll take
her
with us.'

‘You can't.'

Janeway looked at the timber in his hand.

‘This bit of four-b'-two says I can,' he said.

‘That bit of four-b'-two is a lying bastard.'

‘For fuck's sake, knock the shit out of this guy, will you fellas?' said Janeway to his mates. ‘I'm really sick of him.' The three of them took a few steps towards us, bats aloft. Luke and I took a couple of paces back.

‘I think I can slide down,' said Kara behind me.

‘Get going, then.' There was a gravelly sound and I guessed she'd started sliding down the cliff face on her backside.

‘Don't worry about her,' said Janeway to his mates. ‘We'll deal with these two and then we'll have her to ourselves.'

‘I'm down,' yelled Kara, her voice coming over the lip of the cliff as clear as a shark bell. ‘It's not too bad. Ritten is still alive. I think he's broken his arm, though.'

‘See if you can break the other one for him, will you?' I yelled back.

The ACDC shirt had moved in on me. He was smirking; he knew he was stronger than me and better trained and, most of all, that he had a big stick and I didn't. He took a swing with it. I ducked and it swished overhead. He took another swing, this time aimed at my midriff; I arched my stomach and that missed, too. He took a step back to see how scared I was – which was pretty damned scared – the smirk still in place; he was enjoying himself and he wasn't even trying yet. He readjusted his grip on the wood; it wasn't really suited to the task of bashing my head in because it had no handle and was difficult to hold. He looked at it for a second. I sneaked a quick look behind me; I was only a pace or two from the edge of the cliff. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hose, on the other side, take a swipe at Luke with his bit of four-b'-two, which Luke managed to avoid.

Bozo had been jumping around, puzzled at the stand-off between us and the newcomers but wanting to be part of the action. When he saw Hose take a swing at Luke he leapt at him, teeth bared and a snarl on his lips. Hose knocked him away viciously with the short end of his four-b'-two, then stepped after him and took a full-blooded swipe with the long end. It hit Bozo squarely on the head, making a horrible crack. Bozo yelped, staggered, and toppled over the edge of the cliff.

Hose watched him go, like a cricketer so pleased with his shot he watches the ball all the way to the boundary.

The rain was pelting down by now and the glow had gone from the light. I looked at Luke. His skin was pale, almost blue, and he was shivering as if from the cold. Hose hadn't noticed because he was too busy admiring his handiwork. He looked around, as if to say something to Janeway, a grin on his face. But before any words had left his mouth, Luke let out an incoherent scream, stepped towards him and smashed a fist into his face. The hit was fast and precise and he put his whole body into it, landing it between Hose's top lip and his nose. There was a sound of snapping cartilage; Luke's fist seemed to disappear momentarily into Hose's face. Hose dropped his four-b'-two and staggered, clutching his face; blood streamed instantly from between his fingers. He wobbled and took a few more steps, each one bringing him closer to the ground. Luke followed him and, hitching up his gallabaya, kicked him powerfully in the small of his back, about where a kidney might be, connecting with the hard heel of his sandal. Hose grunted and fell to the ground, both hands still holding his face but unable to hold all the blood. He lay there, quivering.

‘You fucking, fucking . . .' said Luke, struggling for a noun to fit.

‘Wanker?' I offered.

‘You hit my dog,' he said. ‘You hit my fucking dog.' Hose kept on quivering. I looked at the others. The ACDC t-shirt was staring at Hose, his jaw open and his length of four-b'-two forgotten. Maybe he was wondering, like me, if Hose still had a face. Janeway yelled for him and PJ to move in, but they didn't react.

‘Luke, down the cliff,' I yelled. Then I turned and went over the edge without looking, feet first.

If, like Kara, I had used one of the gullies that had been gouged into the cliff by the wind and rain the descent would not have been too bad because the gullies reduced the angle of the cliff by about twenty percent. But my point of entry was not in one of these gullies. I had a fast, sliding trip down the not-quite-vertical face of the sharp-stoned cliff. My flip-flops came off along the way and I slid the last ten or so metres barefooted.

At the bottom there was a final vertical fall of a couple of metres onto a pile of stony rubble, and I landed on my back. I lay there for a few seconds while I did a mental checklist of limbs and worried about the condition of my feet. I sat up and found the courage to look at them; they were cut and bleeding and very dirty, but most of the damage seemed superficial.

I looked around. We had come to rest on the rubble of a previous slump in the cliff. The rain was easing. The beach was an easy scramble below; beyond it, sunshine was once again playing on the generally dark ocean. Seagulls that had taken refuge among the rocks were now testing the winds. A few metres away, Kara, who seemed undamaged apart from a few minor abrasions and was still wearing her sandals, was crouched next to Bozo. She was stroking the top of his head, the bit that Hose hadn't smashed in. His chest was moving up and down, as shallow as a dog's grave. A little way off, Ritten was sitting, looking as if he was about to vomit and holding his right arm with his left. His eye looked painful. I certainly hoped it was.

Luke must have had an easier passage down than me because he seemed almost completely unscathed. He walked over to Bozo. Kara glanced at him sadly. He knelt down, looked closely at the wound on Bozo's head and started stroking his flank. Bozo made a sad attempt to wag his tail. I could hear voices at the top of the cliff, including one that sounded feminine and very upset. I heard the words ‘that dog' and ‘police' more than once. I guessed that one of the residents from across the road had witnessed the preceding events and was either threatening to call the cops or had already done so. Janeway and Chook were looking at us from the edge of the cliff.

‘Rittsie, we're taking off,' yelled Chook. ‘We gotta take Hose to see a quack. See ya back there, mate.'

Ritten didn't respond.

‘We'll catch up later, West,' called Janeway, to me.

‘Looking forward to it already, Janey.'

There came sounds of wood on metal and smashing glass, as if Janeway and friends were beating up my ute a little more as they went by. A minute later we heard a couple of motors start up, move off and recede into the distance. Luke scooped Bozo up in his arms.

‘I'd better take him to a vet,' he said. ‘There's one in Aldinga.'

‘See you back home,' I said. ‘Sorry about Bozo, Luke, but . . .'

He looked at me sharply. ‘Don't say “He's only a dog.”'

‘I wasn't going to. I was going to say I didn't know those bastards would be there and I don't know how they found us.'

‘I know.'

‘You sure made a mess of Hose's nose, mate.'

‘He deserved it.'

‘He did, the fucker. His kidney might be shot, too, with any luck.'

Luke turned and picked his way down to the beach and across to the bottom of the foot ramp, bearing his bloody burden. He cut a forlorn figure against the cliff. I hobbled my way over the stones to where Ritten was sitting.

‘You're a silly bastard,' I said. He was also looking forlorn. His eyelid was down over his injured eye but it wasn't quite closed; what I could see of it was red. His right arm was still hanging uselessly, and almost all the exposed flesh on his arms and neck was scratched and bloodied from his fall.

‘Nice of your mates to leave you here, eh? They must really like and respect you.'