The Day of the Gecko (23 page)

‘Those two Russians just went down the road and two blokes came out of that block of flats opposite. I think they were following them,' he said to the major.

‘That doesn't surprise me,' replied the major. ‘Were they dressed as surfers?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Look like it, don't they.'

‘Like anything but. They worth worrying about?'

The Gecko shook his head. ‘No. They're after Boris and Igor for some reason. Probably like what I said.'

‘Is there some drama?' asked Eddie, over the top of his coffee.

‘No,' reiterated the major, ‘nothing to do with us.'

‘Good.' Eddie looked up at Norton. ‘Sit down and have a cuppa, Les. And I'll tell you what's going on again. It's simple really.'

‘Righto.' Les sat down facing Eddie and the major and got a cup of coffee together. ‘Give me the SITCOM. Let's get this briefing together.'

‘Okay, old boy,' replied Eddie, starting off with a mock British accent. ‘Here's the poop. The gen. You and Garrick are going to blow the handball court at ten.
But first you leave your car above the boatsheds at Ben Buckler and walk round. When the bang goes up, I'll arrive in a rubber ducky. We'll toss the bodies into the rubber ducky and take them out to a fishing boat and they'll take them out to sea and dump them. Then I take you back to the boatsheds and you run Garrick into Central railway to catch the train home. A piece of cake, old boy.'

‘Yeah, easy as shit. Just blow up half the baths, grab a couple of stiffs, throw them in a dinghy, and take them out to another boat for a burial at sea. What about this atom bomb he's using? It'll probably light up all Bondi Bay and half of Dover Heights.'

‘Only for a second or two, Les,' said the major. ‘And there might be a bit of noise, but nothing to worry about. Hey, trust me, Les. I haven't let you down yet, have I?'

‘No, I don't suppose so,' replied Norton reluctantly.

‘But what about this for a stroke of genius, Les,' said Eddie. ‘The caretaker's at work tonight. And because of the council, the club stops trading at eight. I'm going down there with a spray can when they close and writing
HANDS OFF THE BERGS, DEATH TO THE ZIONIST DOGS, AL FATAH
on the wall opposite.'

‘Why the bloody hell's that?' asked Les.

‘There's a rumour going round that the Jews have bought the baths for development. With that plastered all over the wall, it'll look like the work of Arab terrorists. Grouse or what, Les?'

Les shook his head. ‘Terrific. And who's going to be in the rubber ducky with you? Who's driving the getaway car? Or fishing boat?'

Eddie rubbed his hands together. ‘I got a couple of surprises for you — you'll love it.'

‘I can't wait.'

‘So that's the story, Les. Garrick's got all the times and exact locations written down. After the explosion we should be away in five minutes. Eight max.' Eddie drained his coffee and stood up. ‘Anyway, I got to piss off. I got other things to organise. So everything's about right, Garrick?' he said to the major.

‘Everything's fine, Eddie. I can't see one hitch. I'll make the device this afternoon and prime it. We do the job at ten. And around ten the next morning I'll be home with my loving family. Beautiful.'

‘All right,' said Eddie. ‘I'll see you at the baths tonight. I can let myself out. See you, fellahs. And good luck.'

‘Yeah, see you, Eddie,' chorused Les and the major. The door closed and Eddie was gone.

Les finished his coffee also and looked at the major. ‘So what's our story now, Major?'

‘Well,' answered The Gecko, looking at his watch, ‘by the time we clean this up and I get a few things sorted out, it'll be lunchtime, and I wouldn't mind another of those chicken schnitzels. That was good yesterday.'

‘Okay. I'm starting to feel a bit peckish now myself.'

‘Then we might go and walk it off.'

‘Walk it off,' echoed Norton.

The Gecko smiled at Les. ‘You heard what I said, Les. Of course, you don't have to come if you don't wish.'

‘No, I'll come,' said Les, just a trifle reluctantly.

‘Good lad.'

Which was pretty much how they spent the afternoon. Les fiddled round in his room, still a bit apprehensive. Despite his assurances, Eddie made it all sound too easy. All Les did know was the major found a CD amongst Susie's collection — Andrew Denton's ‘The Money Or The Gun' with twenty-two versions of ‘Stairway To Heaven', including one by The Beatnix. The Gecko found it, and the remote, and played it nonstop until they left for the Bondi No Names. The food was excellent again. Except that when the waitress asked Les if he enjoyed his meal, instead of answering her, he turned to the major and said, ‘There's a sign on the door, but she wants to be sure, because you know sometimes words have two meanings'.

Their walk afterwards started off pretty punishing; Norton's legs were still stiff from the day before. But fortunately the major showed mercy at the stairs, saying there was no sense risking an injury with what they had in front of them that night. So they only went up and down twice. Back at the unit they got cleaned up and Les was standing in the lounge room in his shorts and a blue T-shirt when the major came out wearing his tracksuit pants and an old grey T-shirt.

‘Okay, Les,' he said, ‘I'm going to be working on this for the next couple of hours. Why don't you continue with your taping? I'd rather it if you stayed here in the flat.'

‘Suits me, Major. Can I help you in any way?'

The Gecko stared at Les for a moment. ‘Do you know anything about titanium steel alloy? Mini
calutronic particle accelerators? Lithium and plutonium catalystic neutron blizzards?'

Les stared back at the major for a moment. ‘I'm not bad on particle accelerators, but I'd need the manual for the other stuff.'

‘Stay here and tape your music, Les. I'll see you in a couple of hours.' The Gecko went to his room and closed the door.

Lithium and plutonium fuckin' what? Les shook his head. Oh well, mine is not to reason why, mine is but to tape or die. He unwrapped another cassette and started going through Susie's CDs again. The first two tracks Les taped were ‘Communication Breakdown' by Flash and the Pan and ‘Good Good Good' by The Cockroaches. Two hours later he'd finished one tape and had started another. He stretched his back and walked out onto the verandah. It was almost dark. There were a few people coming and going and car headlights going past, but no sign of anybody Les knew. When he came inside the major was standing in the lounge room rubbing his eyes and stretching his neck.

‘How are you feeling, Major. Everything okay?' asked Norton.

‘Yes, Les,' replied the major. ‘Everything's Al. As good as I can possibly get it.'

‘Your eyes look a bit sore.'

‘Yes, I've been peering through a magnifying glass half the afternoon. I'm going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?'

‘No, you go for your life, mate. I'll knock this on the head.' Les finished the last track he was taping, ‘She
Moved The Dishes First' by Supercharge, and sat down on the lounge. The Gecko came out of the kitchen holding a mug with a teabag string hanging down the side. He looked down at Norton.

‘Well, would you like to see what I've been up to all afternoon, Les?'

‘Yeah, sure. Show us your atom bomb, Major. Long as the bloody thing doesn't go off and blow us into the harbour.'

‘You'd simply vapourise, Les. In less than a microsecond.'

The Gecko went to his room and returned with his ‘atom bomb'. It was a brown, curved plastic object about 18 inches long, 10 inches wide and 3 inches thick, sitting at an angle on four spindly, pointed metal legs. On one side was written
FRONT TOWARD ENEMY
, on the other side,
BACK
, and beneath that
14-33 APERS MINE
. Beneath that was the serial number, Lot MHK71A631-001. There were two plastic mouldings on top with threaded ends something like a tap. A brown cable ran to a roll of cable on the floor and sitting next to it was a flat plastic object with a moveable top that held a fat, round firing button inside. Another smaller box was attached to the front with thick cables and covers something like those on a distributor cap.

‘So that's it, eh?' said Les.

‘Basically. All it is is a Claymore mine. Except instead of ball-bearings and shrapnel spraying out the front, there'll be a small, fully contained thermal fireball — only blue with orange tints. They're quite pretty really. There'll be some noise and a few shockwaves for a moment. Nothing bad. Then that side of the handball
court and the wall will look as if it's been whipped out like a scoop of ice-cream, only with pumice flavouring. It might get a bit dusty too. So bring a hankie or something to put over your face.'

‘What about radioactivity?'

‘Nothing to worry about. I'm only using cooked-up, spent uranium, and what there is'll get blown away. But wash your clothes and have a good shower later if you want to.'

‘I think I'll be having a long shower.'

‘Well, that's about it. All we can do now is sit around and wait till it's time to go. You got some dark clothes you can wear tonight, Les?'

‘Yeah. I got some stuff in my bag.'

‘Okay, then why don't we sit around, watch a bit of TV and relax. You're not hungry are you, Les?' Norton shook his head. ‘We might make some coffee and toast later, and be ready to leave by nine.'

‘All right,' agreed Les. ‘Sounds good to me.'

‘Cybill' and ‘Murphy Brown' were funny. They had half a pot of coffee and some toast and were watching something about Russia on SBS when Les drifted into his room to see what was in his bag — something dark and something he didn't need. His jeans were dark enough and he had his black grunge boots. He'd also tossed in a long-sleeved black T-shirt he'd bought when he was drunk at a Meat Balls ‘Fat Out Of Hell' concert one night. And a dark blue bushmaster jacket George Brennan had conned him into buying at the club on another night. It was brand-new and had pockets and velcro catches all over it. But it was two sizes too big and you could have hidden a side of beef in it.
Les got into his outfit, looked in the mirror and shook his head. I look like Matt Helm wearing a life-jacket. He had one last look around Susie's room, then turned the light out and went into the lounge room. The Gecko was standing in front of his bags wearing black sneakers, blue tracksuit pants, a black T-shirt and the same jacket he had on at the station.

‘Nice outfit, Les. I see you're a Thomas Cook man, too.'

‘I wouldn't wear anything else, Garrick.'

The Gecko looked at Les for a moment or two and he was definitely smiling. ‘Well, Les,' he said, ‘I don't quite know how to say this, but, this is it — you've been great to be on board with, and I'd like to offer you my hand. I hope everything goes to plan tonight.'

‘Yeah, let's hope so, Garrick. I have to tell you, though, it wasn't quite the five days I had planned.'

Les offered his hand and both men shook warmly and sincerely.

‘Now if you'd like to give me a hand with some of this, we'll get going.'

The Gecko picked up a blue canvas bag. Les picked up his bag and overnight bag.

‘Well, at least you don't need your crutch now, Major. That's one good thing.'

‘Yes, lad,' replied the major. ‘I certainly don't need it now. But I'll keep it just the same. You never know when my ankle might go on me again.'

Les hit the security buttons and turned out the lights, then they went down to the garage. Les got the car out, then put the major's bags in the back, while he sat in the front holding the blue canvas bag. Les hit the
button for the garage gate and they cruised up the side into Hall Street and headed for the boatsheds at Ben Buckler.

Not a great deal was said during the short drive from Hall Street down to Campbell Parade, then Ramsgate Avenue. Les was hoping the bomb wouldn't go off in the major's lap and he was concentrating on something, though the major did say something about how he had two hand grenades with him in case some rubble needed shifting, and that he usually fired these bombs by remote control, but seeing as there were so many mobile phones, electronic garage doors, two-way radios and whatever else in the area, he was using cable, so they might have to get a bit closer to the explosion than usual. But it was nothing to worry about. No, nothing to worry about, mused Les, as they parked in the small reserve above the big rock at Ben Buckler. I've always wanted to be standing at ground-zero when an atom bomb goes off.

The half moon slipped behind one of the numerous cloud banks crowding the night sky when they got out of the car. The air was somewhat humid and thick and a light southerly was tossing a few white horses across the inky blue water of Bondi Bay and a small choppy swell was washing unevenly against the shoreline. Traffic lights cruising up and down Campbell Parade seemed to blend in with the lights from the surrounding shops and buildings, melding in turn with the other buzz of street noise, and at the opposite end of the bay, the few remaining lights of Bondi baths and the Icebergs seemed to twinkle forlornly in the distance. It was definitely an ideal night to bomb an old building.
Les took the major's bags from the back of the utility and put them on the floor in the front of the car. Ben Buckler was a secluded area of Bondi and it was Friday night, so there was a good chance the bags'd be gone when they came back, along with the tonneau cover. Norton made sure the car was locked, the major picked up his blue canvas bag and they walked down Ramsgate Avenue to Bondi promenade.

They didn't say a great deal walking along the promenade either, it was well lit up and there was no shortage of people around. Couples arm in arm or hand in hand, kids on roller blades and bikes, others in small gangs either looking for trouble or hoping trouble would find them. Above the promenade on Queen Elizabeth Drive you could hear the pounding boom-boom-boom of house music pumping out of the suburbanite hoons' cars either prowling up the Drive or parked nose against the railing. This caused Norton to flippantly remark to the major that, no matter how loud his bomb was, you'd be flat out hearing it amongst the thumping disco banality filling the air. The Gecko flippantly agreed. They reached the end of the promenade, then followed the path up to the steps near the toilet block that would lead them, together, into Notts Avenue for the last time. The baths were softly lit and naturally deserted, but as they approached the front door to the Icebergs the first thing they noticed splattered against the wall opposite was
HANDS OF THE BERGS. DEATH TO THE ZIONIST DOGS. AL FATAH
. You couldn't miss it, even at night. It was bright red in letters about two metres high. Les imagined Eddie must have used a stepladder to put it up there.