As he approached the shopping centre, he called Ajit again.
‘Ajit! Are you in the carpark yet?’
‘Yes, I am standing here waiting for you. Opposite McDonald’s.’
‘Lots of cars there?’
‘Yes. A few spaces …’
‘Great. I’m coming in now. When I do, come straight over and hop in. I have to run — like, really.’
Ignoring the beating the cab took from some nasty speed humps, Jack surged into the carpark and swung suddenly to the right, narrowly missing a red Hyundai reversing out of a parking spot. He raced around to the McDonald’s side, past rows of cars, spotted Ajit, and then swung into an empty parking space between a black Prado and a bright-purple ute. The Prado provided some cover as he slipped out of the cab, crouched down, and crept between the parked cars towards the shopping centre. He could see Ajit heading towards him.
‘Keep going’, he hissed. ‘I’ll call later.’
Ajit looked at him with a mixture of fear and worry in his expression, perhaps thinking that Jack was having a breakdown. He decided not to interfere, though, and kept walking towards the cab.
Crouching low between the two cars in the last line, Jack surveyed the shops in front of him. A woman pushing a heavily laden shopping trolley threw a puzzled look at him, which he ignored.
The closest shopfront was one of those kids’ play places that he’d sometimes dropped passengers at but never actually been in. He looked up and down the row of shops, but there were no better options on hand. Hiding in a women’s clothing boutique plastered with ‘Closing Down Sale’ stickers or a grubby fast-food joint didn’t look very promising. So the kids place it had to be.
Jack glanced nervously in both directions, stood upright, and walked quickly across to the Just Kidz entrance, trying not to look too suspicious. There was an open area with a small café inside, which was completely deserted. No one was behind the counter.
The narrow shopfront disguised a long, cave-like interior packed with brightly coloured play equipment. Realising there was no point hanging around in the totally exposed area at the front, Jack fiddled with the child-proof gate, and — once he had worked out how to open it — stepped into the play area.
As he moved behind the wall that divided the entrance area from the play equipment, he heard the shop door open.
‘In here. Sure it was him’, a bloke said, in a deep voice.
Shit, Jack thought. Wonder if this joint’s got a back door?
He hustled past two bored-looking young women, all faded leggings, straggly hair, and low-cut tops, and searched feverishly for a hiding place. The two women ignored him.
‘… don’t like that one with the green thing on it, you know. Always getting in the road, shits me.’
‘Jaidyn just won’t get up. I try everything, don’t know, you know … reckon it’s that stupid teacher.’
Apart from the two women, the place seemed empty. Maybe the kids were all at home doing their homework, or something. It sure felt empty: the tangled web of brightly coloured equipment didn’t even come close to filling the enormous hangar. It felt like he was on a movie set.
Jack was confronted by a giant three-dimensional maze of multicoloured steel, vinyl, and netting. He could just make out a couple of kids crawling around inside it. This monstrosity was three or four metres high, with several different levels. Apparently, the idea was for kids to crawl their way through it, like some kind of enclosed obstacle course. It had things to climb over, padded holes to crawl through, tunnels to wriggle along, and even mats to fall onto.
There was nothing else for it. Casting an anxious look back over his shoulder, Jack crouched down and wriggled into the entrance chamber of the maze, a bright-red cube with coarse netting sides. If he could somehow manage to find his way into the middle of this enormous muddle of boxes, slides, tubes, and tunnels, he might be able to avoid his pursuers. They would hardly guess that he’d crawled inside the play equipment.
Unfortunately, it was designed for seven-year-old kids, not a well-padded old bloke over six feet tall.
He wriggled through the initial opening, bumping his head on the way. For one horrible moment, the bottom half of his body got stuck in the red cube, with his upper half caught in the next chamber. He braced both hands against the dividing wall around the opening, and, with an almighty effort, squeezed his hips through. Sprawling face-down on a hard rubber surface, once again breathing heavily, Jack confronted the next obstacle — a long, round tube about three feet wide. What if he got stuck in it?
‘Hey, mister, what are you doing in there?’ a small voice chirped from somewhere behind him.
Jack twisted his head around and half-saw a small red-headed boy climbing on the outside of the equipment.
‘Er, just looking for someone … my … er, nephew …’
The boy looked at him gravely.
‘Have you been on the big slide?’ He seemed to be satisfied with Jack’s improvised explanation.
‘Ah, no, not yet.’
The boy lost interest in him and resumed his climbing.
It looked like his pursuers had gone into the other section of the building, among the bouncy castles, slot machines, and trampolines.
Jack had little choice but to tackle the long tube: he was very visible in his current spot, and turning back would require even more challenging contortions. The chamber he was in was like those used to torture prisoners, where they were unable to stand, sit, or lie down.
Thankful for once for his round shoulders, he squeezed into the tunnel and wriggled slowly along the tube. He thought about staying inside it — it would certainly be a reasonable hiding place — but it was so uncomfortable he couldn’t bear it. It was better to keep going.
After a painful crawl, in which he bumped every protruding bit of his body, Jack made it to the end of the tube. He squeezed himself out like toothpaste out of a tube, and plopped onto another mat.
At least he could stand up now. There was a ladder leading to a higher section in front of him. He climbed it quickly, and found himself in another chamber with a ladder, so he climbed up that as well. The joyful yelling of small boys echoed behind him.
The next section opened out onto a landing, about three metres above floor level. Jack crept out on the landing on his hands and knees. From this vantage point, he could check where his pursuers had got to.
‘Got to be in here somewhere’, he heard one of the men bark. The other responded: ‘You sure there’s no back way out?’
Jack crawled on his stomach out to the edge of the landing, and came to a long, green slide suspended over a large pit filled with coloured plastic balls. It felt like the slide might collapse under his weight as he half-tumbled, half-slid down it, but it proved more robust than it looked. He spilled into the middle of the vat of coloured balls with a clumsy half-forward, half-sideways roll. The balls were about the size of cricket balls, but made of thin, soft plastic.
Jack thrashed around until he was able to stand up, scattering balls from his body like a wet dog shaking itself. Then he had a brainwave: why not hide in there? It was pretty unlikely they’d come looking for him in this stuff.
He sank back down into the pit and made sure he was well and truly covered. As his breathing returned to normal, he turned his mind to the next move. How long should he stay in there for? Where had his pursuers got to?
Then he heard a loud squeal coming from immediately above him, and a small body crashed into the pit, hitting him in the chest. A hand began scrabbling around his face and neck, and Jack yelled: ‘Ow! Shit! Get off!’
‘Hey, there’s a monster in here! Mum! Help! Help!’ The small boy who’d landed on him kept wriggling around as Jack tried to get out of his way. Coloured balls popped, bounced, and bobbled as they both struggled to regain their balance.
‘Casey? Casey? What�
�s wrong, darl?’ a woman screamed from some distance away.
‘Mum! Mum! The monster …’
Jack had had enough. He untangled himself from the boy, and climbed awkwardly out of the pit. As he got to his feet, an agitated woman approached him. He didn’t think she was one of those he’d seen earlier — she looked plumper, and better dressed.
‘Hey! What are you doing in there? Some kind of paedophile or something? This joint’s for kids, it’s not a dirty old man’s playground!’
That’s all I need, Jack thought. Pinged as a paedophile twice in one afternoon. I’m out of here.
Forgetting for a moment the larger threat he’d been hiding from, Jack back-pedalled away from the woman, muttering his apologies. Thankfully, she opted to focus on extracting her son from the coloured balls, and he was able to escape.
As he reached the front of the play area, a young woman in a striped uniform emerged through a side door. She stared at Jack, then turned away, no doubt assuming he was leaving and that there was therefore no point in hassling him. He stepped up to the door, bent down, and stuck his nose against a small clear section that wasn’t covered by posters and stickers.
He wasn’t able to see much, but it was enough to conclude he was no longer in danger. His eyes darting nervously from side to side, he crossed over the road and weaved through the parked cars towards the exit. Five minutes later, he was on a tram heading towards Brunswick.
9.
To Jack’s great relief, the next day was much less eventful. He picked up a few good fares, sat around in queues for a while, and passed the time listening to talkback radio. Just as he was almost on the point of calling in, his passenger door opened and a man in a dark suit slid in beside him. Jack eyed him up and down as he mumbled instructions.
‘Victoria Street, the hospital. St Vincent’s.’ He looked Chinese, and his English was heavily accented.
It was a measly fare, hardly worth the wait on the rank, but Jack tried to stay upbeat. The next one might be a ripper.
He snuck another look at his passenger as they sat waiting at the lights at Lonsdale Street. He was well dressed, but something was out of place. Wrong-coloured tie? Tinted glasses? He looked a bit like a gangster in a Jackie Chan movie.
His passenger showed no sign of wanting to talk, so Jack said nothing. There wasn’t much point in angling for a tip on such a short trip.
As they approached St Vincent’s, his passenger spoke up suddenly.
‘Just behind that bus, thank you.’
‘Er … that’s a no-stopping zone, ambulances and stuff, I think. Stupid bus is blocking the taxi rank.’
‘I am in a hurry.’
That settled it. Maybe he had a terminal illness.
Jack crept in behind the bus and reached for his card machine. His passenger opened the door, swung his legs out onto the pavement, and reached inside his jacket.
Just as Jack was asking him for seven dollars and forty cents, there was a knock on his window. As he wound it down, his heart sank. It was a parking cop.
‘Sorry, mate, you’re in a no-stopping zone.’ A stony-faced, gruff, middle-aged woman looked down at him from beneath an enormous broad-brimmed hat.
‘Shit, sorry. Stupid bus driver in front’s blocking the rank. Just dropping this bloke … think he’s an emergency …’ Jack turned to his passenger, who was showing signs of agitation. He accepted a $10 note from him and handed him a few coins. The parking cop was printing out a ticket.
‘Hey! You can’t book me! Not my fault the bus got in the way …’ Jack spluttered.
She ignored his protests and tore the ticket from her machine with a flourish.
‘Special zone is for ambulances, mate. People like you block it up, pretty soon people are dying …’
‘But he was crook … going to Emergency …’
‘Looked okay to me.’
‘Shit!’
She handed over the ticket without another word and walked off towards Nicholson Street. Jack looked at it: he had 28 days to cough up $236.
‘Two hundred and thirty-six bucks! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!’ he yelled at the steering wheel. Bloody outrageous.
After some more cursing and yelling, he decided to move the cab, just in case she came back and tried to book him again. Just the sort of mongrel act a parking cop would do, in Jack’s view.
Wonder what sort of people become parking cops? he mused grimly, as he headed for the turn into Brunswick Street. Losers who enjoyed inflicting pain on other people, by the look of it.
‘Fuck!’ he yelled again, anger still bubbling away inside him. How on earth was he going to find $236 to pay the stupid fine? Stocking up on Teludene had put this month’s rent at risk, and he was already seriously behind. Even if he gave up drinking and smoking for a month, he wouldn’t be able to pay the fine — and he’d go crazy into the bargain. His credit card was maxed out, so that wasn’t much use. And the last time he’d tried to get the limit increased, they’d knocked him back. Something about a bad credit history, which seemed very unfair.
Most parking cops gave cabbies a bit of leeway: they had to pick up and drop off somewhere. Just his luck to bump into a real Nazi …
Not wanting to tempt fate, he pulled over to call Ajit. They had left open the exact location for changeover.
‘Hello, Jack? I am near your flat. Are you coming soon? I can be coming to outside your flat. Five minutes.’
‘Give me ten, I’ll be there.’
One small consolation at least. He didn’t have to spend half the evening getting back from Ajit’s place in Reservoir.
Turning into Balmoral Avenue, he could see Ajit half-sitting on the low brick fence that separated the property from the footpath. He had his arms crossed, which wasn’t a good sign. Ajit was a genial sort of bloke, but Jack knew from experience that he was difficult to deal with when he was upset.
Before Jack had a chance to step out of the cab, Ajit opened the passenger door and got in.
Uh-oh, something’s up, Jack thought.
‘Where are you heading, mate?’ he joked weakly, knowing he was about to cop it.
‘We have to have a talk, my friend’, Ajit said in a serious tone. ‘I am not happy with our arrangement.’
‘So what’s the problem?’ Jack couldn’t hide the resentment he was feeling. He didn’t quite say What have you got to whinge about?, but he was thinking it.
‘I am going to drive a hire car’, Ajit blurted out. ‘I am no longer able to drive with you, Jack. I am sorry.’
Jack sat there, frozen in his seat, hands gripping the steering wheel, saying nothing, staring straight ahead, marvelling at how a reasonable day had turned so bad.
‘The changeovers are very bad for me, and I do not like driving late at night. I am falling asleep sometimes at the call centre — it is not very good.’
Jack still said nothing.
‘The hours for Premium Limousines, they are more flexible, it is a much nicer car. And I am thinking the passengers will be nicer. They are business people, pay more money …’
‘You know you’re supposed to give me a month’s notice?’ Jack asked coldly, feeling betrayed. Ajit had been his partner for almost three years. They had been through a fair bit together.
‘I must be starting with Premium Limousines in two weeks, Jack. I am sorry. I will drive until then. Perhaps if I do changeover at your place, that will help?’
Jack nodded. There was no way he could force Ajit to work the extra two weeks, and any thought of taking him to court for breaching his contract was totally pointless. It looked like Jack would be working double shifts for a while, until he could find a new partner. That wouldn’t be easy. People didn’t want to drive cabs these days, and most of those who did were tied together by tight ethnic bonds of clan and tribe — maybe even caste as well, for all he
knew.
The true horror of his situation was beginning to sink in. The parking fine was just the entree: Ajit’s desertion was the main course. Jack struggled to stay afloat at the best of times. This double whammy threatened to sink him completely. And where would that leave him? Probably out on the street, sleeping next to Phil.
Without saying anything further, Jack got out of the cab, ignoring Ajit’s mumbled apologies. He walked slowly along the roadway on the outside of the car, back towards the flat.
As he walked past a red Honda Civic parked behind him, a voice called out to him.
‘Jack? Got a moment?
He stopped and turned. The man in the driver’s seat had his window down, and was smiling up at him. Ajit sped off in the cab as Jack sized up the youngish man with his thick moustache, poorly shaven chin, and pale-grey suit.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m from Worksafe. Just need a chat about the stuff next door, you know …’
A few drops of rain fell on Jack’s unkempt, curly hair. He didn’t feel like hanging around.
‘What do you want now?’
‘Just wondering if you’re happy about giving evidence? You know, how the accident happened, all that …’
‘Course not!’ Jack snapped back at him. ‘Got better things to do with my time, mate.’
The man nodded sympathetically.
‘Yeah, know what you mean. Didn’t really see anything anyway, did you?’
‘Well … there was this bloke on the ladder …’ Jack looked down at him, noting the suggestive leer on his face.
‘You know what I mean?’
‘Yeah, yeah. Didn’t see nothing, really.’ The penny was dropping.
‘Stuff like this happens all the time, can’t chase them all — budget cuts and all that. You know what it’s like.’
‘Yeah, mate, sure.’
‘Investigator’ll probably be in touch soon. If you tell him you didn’t see anything, whole thing’ll probably go no further. No need to go to court, all that bullshit.’
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