Jack checked his watch as he arrived at the tram stop. With any luck, he’d able to duck into a McDonald’s before training and grab a Big Mac. A tram arrived only a few minutes later, which sealed the deal. He ought to have at least twenty minutes spare at the other end, which was plenty of time to order and scoff a burger.
Yelling instructions at a bunch of eleven-year-old boys proved to be a useful distraction. He didn’t get a chance to talk to Robyn Sturgess as she spent most of the time chatting to other parents. But Jack felt like the fog was beginning to lift: there were still things he couldn’t make sense of, but he was starting to understand why he had been in the wars so much.
His coaching efforts did take their toll on Jack’s injuries, though, so he was relieved when training finally ended. He walked down to Sydney Road to catch a tram to the hospital, nervously stewing over what might be to come. Emily must still be in a coma, or else she would have called. Surely. Maybe she didn’t know who had dragged her out of the office and called the ambulance.
He found his way to ward 7E without much trouble. A weary-looking nurse raised her eyes from the file she was checking at the reception desk, but said nothing.
‘Um, Emily … in here somewhere, I think. Emily Bryant. Okay if I poke my head in?’
‘Don’t think she’s awake … still no visitors …’
‘Just want to poke my head around … won’t disturb her or anything. It was me who brought her in, carried her out of the building …’
The frazzled-looking nurse shrugged her shoulders.
‘Alright, be quick. Not my problem. I didn’t see you.’
Thanking his lucky stars for chronic under-staffing, Jack walked along the corridor until he found Emily’s curtained-off bed. He fiddled with the curtains until he found a gap, and stepped through.
‘Emily?’
He looked at the bed, and a surge of panic shot through his battered body. Underneath a tangle of bandages and catheters, a barely recognisable Emily stared up at him. Without the absurdly coloured clothes and friendly smile, she looked deathly.
He walked the few steps across to her and took her hand in his. She was conscious, just, but looked completely wiped out.
‘Jack’, was all she said to him in a thin whisper. She gripped his hand enough to show she had a tiny bit of strength remaining.
Jack didn’t say anything, and just stood there. He wasn’t sure what to say.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Okay. Copped another beating, but I’m alright.’
‘What about John?’
John? Oh, yeah, Franklin. ‘Fine, he got out of there, missed all the excitement. But what about you? You going to be okay?’ Jack’s voice trembled as he asked.
‘I’ll be fine. Got a major skull fracture, few other things, like my neck and stuff, and a whopper of a headache. No brain damage, they say, but we might have to check that when I get out.’
‘So what happened? One of those pricks whack you?’
‘I don’t really know. I saw them coming, went inside to warn you, tripped on something, and next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor. Something big fell on me, I think. Just clumsy, I guess.’
‘Well, the whole thing’s in the papers. Cops poked their noses in yet? I’m a bit worried we’ll get pinged for trespassing or something like that …’
He shifted from side to side awkwardly as he spoke, and, realising just how exhausted he was, pulled over a plastic chair so he could sit beside her.
‘Haven’t seen any, but I’ve only been awake for a couple of hours. So is all the stuff about Auspart coming out into the open?’
‘Looks that way. People calling for royal commissions, ministers accused of corruption, dodgy business types … whole thing looks like it’s about to blow.’
‘Oh. What about Michael?’
‘Franklin reckons he’s not a spy. Just cuddling up to the developers, trying to be a hero, make a deal or something. Looks like he fingered me to get back at me, so their thugs have been at me. They’re still trying to nobble me as a witness about the bloke next door.’
Emily went quiet. She looked up at Jack, and tears trickled down her cheeks.
‘I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t think any of this would happen …’
‘Nothing to be sorry about.’
‘There is … there’s stuff I haven’t told you about …’ She broke off and stifled a sob, distress showing in her eyes. ‘Remember the name David Clarkson?’
‘Yeah, think so.’
‘He’s my stepfather.’
It was like being whacked in the head again. Jack was stunned. The tiny cogs and gears in his brain whirred away furiously as he tried to process this revelation.
‘You mean …?’
‘He’s been giving me money for years, like I told you. Not because he loves me or anything like that. I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone. Just worried I’ll go to the cops about him. He worked out I wasn’t declaring it, so I could get chucked out of my flat, done for welfare fraud, all that stuff. So he’s the one who’s been blackmailing me … I’ve had to help him out on this PPP stuff, tell him what’s going on. I hate him, but I can’t get away from him.’
‘What about Dempsey?’
‘I think he just suspects, but hasn’t got any proof. But I can’t afford to take the risk …’
‘Couldn’t you move somewhere else?’
‘Where? CFS, welfare fraud, no more money from my stepfather … where would I go?’
Jack fell silent, a thousand conflicting thoughts hurtling around in his brain.
‘You don’t understand, Jack. For someone like me, the high-rise is all there is. Next stop’s a junkie share-house in Moe. Without my flat, I’ve had it. It’s pretty hard to get by now, but I manage. How do you think I’d cope with no money, a long way from my doctors and friends?’
‘Jesus.’ Jack was still struggling to comprehend what he had just heard. Was Emily the spy? Had she dumped him in it, letting him get monstered by every thug in Melbourne?
‘I’m sorry, Jack’, she sobbed softly. ‘I haven’t been honest with you … you don’t deserve this … I know I’ll probably never see you again …’
Jack remained quiet. He’d copped a few hard knocks over the past week or two, but this was even worse.
‘So what’s with this Clarkson guy?
‘David? He’s a snake. Mister Dodgy Deal — left school at sixteen, lucky to have stayed out of jail. Hit on my mum when she was a mess, she was older than him, then attacked me … and then nicked off because some guys were after him. Big gambler, made a huge pile up on the Gold Coast, came back, got involved in all sorts of stuff. You know all the cheap houses going up around Cranbourne, Pakenham, Berwick, all that area? Most of that’s him. Nursing homes, too. I think he’s got it over the housing minister somehow. Some crooked deal they were in, years ago probably.’
‘So you’ve been telling him what’s going on? Like with me … the accident, Franklin, all that stuff?’
She turned away, unable to look him in the eye.
Fucking hell, Jack thought, what an unbelievable mess.
‘Can’t talk much more, Jack, I’ve about had it. I’m really, really sorry. I know I’ve blown it … I was so scared. You were going to be my way out of all this crap. Instead, I’ve dragged you into it, too. I’m sorry …’ She started sobbing again.
Jack looked at her without speaking. His mind had gone blank; he was numb, as if he was in shock. He didn’t know what to say.
‘Goodbye, Jack’, she whispered, then turned her head away again.
He let her hand go, stood up, and walked out of the ward. The world-weary nurse was still sitting hunched over her workstation. Jack walked past her without saying a word.
19.
Like a wounded dog, Jack crawled away an
d hid for the next couple of days. He didn’t drink much, but he went through several packets of cigarettes. His body was slowly recovering from the hammering it had received, but his emotions were all over the place. He still didn’t know what to think.
He didn’t receive any more visits from the thugs. A few precautions helped, like using the entrance at the back and lying low late afternoon and early evening, but he was almost beyond caring. Anyway, they’d probably lost interest because the whole Auspart issue had taken off in the media and they had much bigger things to worry about. The cops had phoned him about the stabbing, but he’d told them he couldn’t give a useful description of the attackers.
He still didn’t know what to make of Emily’s confession. He was angry, of course, but he also understood the realities of life for people at the bottom of the heap. Could he guarantee he would have behaved differently if he’d been in her position?
His initial attraction to Emily had evolved into a kind of partnership of the downtrodden. He’d been interested in her, sure, but never really besotted like he’d been with Farhia. Emily had become more of a support system, a safe haven from the madness he’d blundered into. Which somehow made her deception even more devastating.
Yet he couldn’t avoid the conclusion that Michael Dempsey was the one to blame for the mess he’d ended up in. Emily’s betrayal only mattered because of Dempsey. If he hadn’t assaulted and blackmailed her, and set the Auspart thugs onto Jack, the stuff with her stepfather wouldn’t have mattered. The logic was convoluted, sure, but Jack saw Dempsey’s hand in everything.
The more he thought about Dempsey, the angrier he got. All kinds of frustrations bubbled up inside him until finally, as he was sitting in the cab back on a rank a few days later, he was unable to contain himself any more. Dempsey seemed to be the cause of all his problems: it was time he did something about it. Jack snapped.
He gunned the Falcon away from the rank and sped up Russell Street into Lygon Street.
Some kind of inner Mister Hyde had taken over his body, but he didn’t care. He’d been beaten up, lied to, and seen his chance of a serious relationship fall apart. He wanted to take his anger out on someone, and Dempsey was the perfect candidate — the guy who’d set thugs onto him, who’d blackmailed Emily and tried to rape her. By the time he turned into Lygon Street, Jack had convinced himself that Dempsey had caused everything bad that had happened over the past few weeks.
Radiating aggression, he strode briskly down the footpath and around the corner of the building into the Tenants Association office. At first he thought it was empty, but as his eyes adjusted to the unlit gloom, he noticed Marko sitting in the far corner talking to one of the older women he’d seen there before.
As Marko was likely to be an ally, Jack walked towards him, waving a greeting as he approached. He was about halfway along the enormous central table when he glimpsed movement in Dempsey’s office out of the corner of his eye. He was in there.
Jack lost interest in Marko.
‘Come out here, you fucking little weasel!’ he roared. ‘Time you got some of your own medicine!’
Dempsey jumped, and his eyes darted around as he looked for potential support and escape routes. Marko stood up, and made to move towards the office.
Jack beat him to the doorway. Dempsey stood rooted to the spot, and started shaking. Jack could see the fear in his eyes.
‘You slimy little arsehole! Here’s how it feels …’
Jack rushed blindly at him, but just as he was almost within reach, he tripped on a protruding drawer at the bottom of a cabinet against the wall and catapulted forward. He tried to turn this into an aggressive lunge, but he was a fraction too far away. Dempsey stepped back, and Jack’s flailing arms brushed harmlessly along his body as he fell flat on his face.
Wheezing and groaning, Jack clawed his way back onto his feet. Having managed to knock the stuffing out of himself, he didn’t know what to do next. Dempsey was now cowering behind his desk. Marko’s hulking body filled the doorway, blocking any exit.
When Jack moved towards the window side of the desk, Dempsey moved the other way, keeping the desk positioned between them.
Trying to outsmart him, Jack rushed around the corner of the desk and shoved the office chair onto the floor with a loud clatter. Dempsey moved again, mirroring Jack’s manoeuvre.
He then tried a dummy, pretending to keep going and then doubling back, hoping to catch Dempsey at the window end of the desk. It didn’t work: Dempsey was too nimble for him.
Jack realised he had no chance of catching Dempsey by chasing him around the desk. There was only one thing for it. If he couldn’t get him by going around, he would have to go over.
He tried to clamber up onto the desk, using a pile of books and files as leverage for his left hand while he raised his right leg onto the desktop.
It almost worked. But just as his knee was getting traction on the desk, the files collapsed under the pressure from his arm and upper body. He fell sideways and backwards onto the floor, taking the files and books with him.
‘Aah! Fuck! Jesus!’ Jack screamed. He broke his fall with his left arm, but it felt like he’d broken his wrist in the process, and his head banged on the floor. His left knee scraped hard against the edge of the desk.
He writhed in agony on the floor, and Dempsey let out a nervous cackle. This fleeting humiliation worked to Jack’s advantage. Dempsey relaxed his guard and took a few tentative steps towards him.
His gaze shifted as he noticed Marko moving, just as Jack was scrambling to his feet.
Jack threw himself at Dempsey and they crashed to the floor, writhing and grappling ineffectually.
Just as Jack was getting the upper hand, Marko grabbed Dempsey by the shirt collar with an enormous fist, lifted him up off his feet, and shoved him hard against the back wall.
‘No more! I kill you. Understand?’ he hissed at Dempsey, his face contorted with anger.
His eyes lit up with fear, Dempsey nodded. Marko held him up against the wall for a few more moments to underline his point, and then, without warning, let go. Dempsey crashed to the floor, crumpling to his knees.
Marko walked around the desk and helped Jack to his feet.
In between huffing and puffing and groaning, Jack spluttered ‘Thanks, mate’ and ‘I’m okay’. Marko helped him out into the main office area. Neither of them took any notice as Dempsey slipped away.
Marko eased Jack onto a wobbly plastic chair. He took a few deep breaths, then looked up at his giant saviour.
‘Thanks, mate. I owe you twice now.’
‘He is an arsehole. Maybe I kill him for fun. What do you think?’
‘No, no, just scaring him’s good enough.’
‘Just joking.’
Jack suspected there’d been times in Marko’s life when he wasn’t joking, but he didn’t ask.
After taking a few more deep breaths, he recovered some poise, and thought about the fight he’d started and only just survived. Without Marko, it might have ended badly.
It’s about time I retired from all this shit, he groaned as his latest injuries fought with the older ones for attention from his nervous system.
‘You want coffee?’ Marko asked.
‘Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks, mate. Anything I can do for you, let me know.’
‘Nothing to do. He’s a snake, he bites people. So I stop him.’
‘Yeah, well, thanks anyway. Without you I’d probably be dead. Or in a wheelchair. You seem to keep turning up at the right time.’
‘Maybe you should tell Mister Franklin.’
‘Franklin? How come?’
Marko unbuttoned the upper buttons of his shirt, and displayed a dark T-shirt underneath bearing a large CFMEU logo.
‘You in with them?’
‘I was a member. Mister Franklin asked me to look after you
, keep an eye out.’
‘Jesus.’ Jack was even more confused now. It looked like everyone was in on the joke, even Marko.
‘What about that Ritty guy? Going to hurt me bad if I don’t give evidence.’
‘Ritty?’ Marko laughed. ‘I’ve known him many years. He never bashed anyone. Looks bad, but he is a nice man.’
‘What? Could’ve fooled me.’
Jack’s head was spinning. So the tough-guy routine outside the union office was all fake? Just a charade to make sure he didn’t cave in to the threats from the thugs?
Fucking Franklin. Thinks he can play God, push everyone around. He felt humiliated, but part of him was grateful. At least Franklin was trying to protect him.
Marko returned with a mug of the finest Nescafé a few minutes later. Jack drew on it greedily, grateful for anything that might distract him from the pain wracking his body.
‘Why do you do this, Mister Taxi-driver?’ Marko pointed at Dempsey’s office.
‘He … he did bad things to Emily. Then got those blokes to chase me, beat me up. Time he was stopped.’
Jack slumped into his chair, his coffee forgotten. The adrenalin surge had receded: all that was left was black despair.
‘Better get going — changeover now. Thanks again. You’re a life-saver.’
Supporting himself against the table, Jack eased his body out of the chair and edged towards the door. His retribution against Dempsey hadn’t quite gone according to plan.
What the fuck was I thinking? Jack asked himself as he took off in the cab.
The world looked extremely bleak when he started his shift the next morning. It all seemed pointless now anyway. He was buggered, whichever way he looked. His phone rang as he pulled out of the driveway. Glancing at it with weary disbelief, Jack muttered: ‘What now?’
‘Jack? You’re off the hook, mate. It’s all sorted.’
Comeback Page 18