Kiss On The Bridge

by Mark Stewart

  WADE MACKENZIE ran his fingers through his sandy coloured hair before placing the control knob into neutral. The engine revs fell to idle. The forty-foot yacht’s speed dropped to zero. He walked across the deck to the side of the hull. Leaning over the side to look at the water a lazy smile highlighted his cheek bones. Tapping a button on the side of the boat he felt the vibration of a motor roar to life under his feet. The aluminum dive ladder slid silently into the water up to the second rung.

  Wade threw his white button up shirt over the back of a deck chair, dropping a brown towel over his shirt. The sweat on his deep chest glistened in the hot sun. The few clouds in the sky were bleached white. Only a hint of a sea breeze brushed his face as he prepared to dive into the cool glass flat ocean.

  Wade dived away from the sparkling new yacht, surfacing twenty-five feet off to port. He heard the screeching of his CB radio. To help ignore the noise, he dived for the second time. He loved being underwater in the quiet; away from the noise of the anti-room of the supreme-court. There seemed to be a ruckus brewing every few minutes. He swam straight down to a depth of twenty feet. He took in the view by staring through the crystal-clear water.

  A large school of small tuna swimming towards him split into two, darting around him. A large stingray glided effortlessly above his head. It didn’t stop or try to avoid the two-metre shape ascending slowly to the surface.

  At a depth of four feet, Wade spied the reason why he dived into the water. It bobbed lazily on the surface. His lungs were starting to ache when saw a shark swimming directly at him. He watched the young grey nurse swim closer. Wade avoided confrontation by changing direction. In a heartbeat, he decided it might be time to retrieve what he found and climb back on board his yacht before the mother came looking for her young.

  In one swift motion, Wade’s fingers wrapped about the object. In seconds, he started climbing the aluminum dive ladder. The moment he stepped onto the white deck of the sailboat he pressed a button. Almost instantly the ladder started to close. He snatched up the brown towel he’d slung over the back of the deck chair, throwing it over his left shoulder. Holding the newly discovered booty in his hand, he walked towards the bridge.

  The CB radio screeched for the tenth time.

  Wade dived onto the bridge, swiping the receiver from its cradle. “Speak,” he said.

  “Wade, I’m Grant Mustard’s secretary, the jury has reached a decision. Do you want to be in court to listen to the verdict?”

  “I’ve already quit. Didn’t you find my official letter of resignation?”

  “I filed it hoping you might change your mind.”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Mustard has personally asked me to plead for you to reconsider.”

  “You can inform Grant my answer is still no.”

  “You are the best lawyer in Australia he will not accept your resignation.”

  “Sheryl, please, tell him no.”

  “You have to understand he will not take no for an answer.”

  “I’ve other plans,” Wade advised.

  “Let me guess; you are planning to chase the young lady you kissed on the bridge.”

  “My plans are private.”

  “So, the rumours spreading throughout the building over you and the mystery woman are correct.”

  “I refuse to discuss it.”

  “Wade, think about it, what if you cannot find her?”

  “What if I do?”

  “It is a lot of ifs.”

  Using the towel, Wade started to rub the water from his legs. He suddenly stopped to look across the sea at the Melbourne skyline. “Sheryl, tell me what you’d do?” he asked confidently into the CB radio.

  “It’s none of my concern.”

  “Exactly,” snorted Wade.

  “Why are you chasing a pipe dream?”

  “Explain this. What are the chances of being by yourself at midnight on a bridge when out of the blue someone asks to kiss you?”

  “I’d have to say the odds are enormous.”

  “If what you say is true, clarify this. I’ve been on that particular bridge at midnight several times over the years, not once has there ever been anyone else on it. Sheryl, she kissed me back.”

  “You sound obsessed.”

  “Call it what you will, I don’t care.”

  “Wade, you are making too much of the whole kiss on the bridge thing.”

  “Call it fate. I can’t change the fact it happened.”

  “Wade, see the logic behind the event.”

  “Sheryl, I thought you of all people would understand where I’m coming from.”

  “I do understand. I just do not see the point or the effort it takes to accomplish something which is not possible.”

  “Inform Grant what I’ve decided.”

  “Explain it to him yourself.”

  “Tell me, has he been listening in to our conversation the whole time?” questioned Wade.

  “No.”

  “Sheryl, you were never a good liar. Put him on.”

  After a short pause, the CB radio crackled back to life. The gruff voice belonged to a man who didn’t sound happy.

  “Wade, you were correct. I heard the entire conversation. You have to reconsider.”

  “Why? I don’t have to do anything. On top of my decision, I loathe the well-to-do lingo everyone puts on. I also hate the way the firm runs the affairs of every one of her clients.”

  “You have a bright future in our company, do not blow it.”

  “I had a future in the law sector. I’ll do what I want.”

  “What will you do? Your mind is too sharp for anything other than full steam ahead.”

  “My personal life is my business,” replied Wade.

  “This whole year I have held my tongue. I believe the young lady you’ve been chasing has made you drag your feet. What if I promise to find the woman?”

  The tone in Grant Mustard’s voice told Wade he could easily be swept off the path all to easily.

  “You work for me. You have to choose, me or nothing.”

  “I’ve already chosen to quit.”

  “Wade, you celebrated your twenty-fourth birthday three months ago, and already you have earned more money than all of us put together. Your reputation has surpassed my wildest expectations. Name your price; ten, twenty million a year?”

  Wade pressed the end button, placed the CB radio back in its cradle and stepped through the narrow doorway. Walking down the two steps to the second level, he glanced at the barometer. Sidestepping into the galley, he placed the empty bottle of champagne he plucked from the ocean onto the bench. Looking through the bottle’s glass wall, he spied a tightly folded piece of yellow paper. Wade pulled the cork, upending the bottle. The note fell into the palm of his hand.

  Quickly pouring a strong mug of coffee and a glass of white wine, Wade held the note and the mug in his left hand, the glass of white wine in his right. He walked to a comfortable black leather chair at the small table. Sitting, he carefully unraveled the note. Leaning back in the chair he read the handwritten words. His eyes bulged at the name on the bottom of the note. The author signed it, ‘Anneli.’

  Wade sat staring at the wall, lost in a fantasy of the night on the bridge when he kissed Anneli.

  “Could this note have been written by the very girl I am looking for?” he mumbled. “Anything is possible, besides, how many young ladies live in Melbourne with the same name?”

  Wade climbed the stairs to the bridge. Feeling his confidence lifting, he pushed the throttle to its stop, navigating the yacht back to the Port of Melbourne more determined to find the young woman he kissed on the bridge. Through endless hours of questions over the phone, he came to one single possible conclusion. Beyond reasonable doubt, Anneli is heading for Darwin.

  “At sunrise, tomorrow; I’m sailing for Darwin,” Wade confessed to one of the workers at the marina.

  “You’ll be a wantin’ extra diesel in the tank.”

  Wad
e slapped the old unshaven man on the shoulder. “Add the cost of the diesel to my account. I’ll pay you when I return.”

  In three hours Wade’s shopping list appeared complete. His thoughts zeroed in on a woman who seemed to be shadowing his every move. To confirm his suspicions, he saw a security guard standing on the courthouse steps. He stopped, striking up a short conversation. In a couple of minutes, he said goodbye, deliberately marching across the road. He stood at the doorway to a small café, watching reflections in the glass window waiting to see if his suspicions were confirmed. The figure belonged to a tall woman. Dark sunglasses and a large latte coloured hat pulled down over her face helped to mask her facial features. Her black shiny two-inch stilettos were the only things protruding from the mystery woman’s ankle-length coat.

  The moment Wade entered the café he ordered two cappuccinos. He gave the waitress instructions the second coffee belonged to the woman in the long coat watching him from across the street. He paid for the hot brew, left the café and joined the stream of shoppers. The woman re-commenced her quest to follow. Wade noted she’d dropped back slightly to avoid possible detection.

  Wade entered the park across the road. To make it easier for the woman to approach him, he sat on the nearest seat. The forty-foot Elm trees lining the pea stone path still smelt damp from the rain the previous night. A woman pushing her young eighteen-month-old daughter in a stroller slowly strolled past Wade. Raising her eyebrows, she looked Wade up and down before marching off wearing a grin.

  A school-boy riding a pushbike entered the park. Wade watched him ride directly at him.

  “This is for you,” announced the lad, handing over a scrap piece of paper.

  “Who gave you the message?” asked Wade. A quick study of the paper revealed someone had taken the time to fold it five times.

  “The woman standing at the entrance to the park,” he replied.

  “Can you give me a description of what she looks like?”

  The lad shrugged. Riding off, the boy looked over his shoulder. “She must be rich; she gave me one hundred dollars to give you the note.” The young teenager gestured a wave before pedaling his pushbike towards the entrance to the park.

  Wade sprinted through the park’s wrought iron gate to the street. He made it in time to see the mystery woman step onto a tram. Before she sat, the tram took off towards Melbourne CBD.

  Five men dressed in black suits squatted behind three large trees waiting for Wade’s return. They watched him stroll slowly back towards the park seat, too intent on reading the note to see what was happening around him.

  The five men marched up behind Wade. One tall athletic built man growled in a low baritone voice.

  “Only a fool will turn around.”

  Wade froze in his tracks. Scrunching the note the boy gave him, he slipped it deep into the pocket of his pants. “I’m no fool.”

  “Good. The five of us don’t want to see you in an accident.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “We don’t want anything except a few minutes of your time.”

  Every cell in Wade’s lawyer trained body screamed for him to turn around. Recommencing his walk, he pushed the warning out of his mind. “I’m listening.”

  “The five of us want you to walk towards the small lake at the bottom of the slope.”

  Walking towards water sounded warning bells. Wade’s mind slipped back to a conversation between him and his gangster friend. Wade quickly quoted his number one rule. ‘To stay alive never be anywhere near water.’

  “Why can’t we talk here, face to face?” Wade questioned.

  “My boys and I have the power over you. We expect you’ll do exactly what I order. I alone decide your fate.”

  “Do you have a name?” asked Wade, making a two-bit conversation sound important.

  “My little inquisitive friend, you will never know. Turn down the next narrow dirt track. It leads straight to the lake.”

  A ten-foot wire fence separated the traffic and the other side of the stagnant water which looked no larger than a normal house block. Wade knew the moment he stood at the shallow lake there were no other exits except via the path.

  At the halfway point, Wade decided the men needed to know their next alleged victim won’t be taking what they were about to dish out lying down. In his mind, he went through his attack scenario. He’d punch the biggest first then so on till only the smallest remained standing. The move happened to be the number two rule his gangster friend taught him. They became familiar acquaintances after proving to the court of his innocence. Six months of walking the streets, talking to men nobody wanted to know, saw the real culprit in court. After a two-month trial, the real murderer was in jail for life.

  At the same time, Wade curled his fingers into white-knuckled fists he spun on the balls of his feet to view the scene. He lunged at the two men left of center. Using a right hook to their jaw he dropped them both. The two bringing up the rear were next. They crumbled to the ground nursing their cracked ribs. Wade spun around eyeballing the one remaining person.

  The man stood tall, acting ice cool. Pulling a small handgun from his coat pocket, he pointed it directly at Wade’s heart. The third rule he learnt; if the attacker is holding a gun; never argue.

  “Don’t move,” growled the man. “We only wanted to have a talk.”

  “Tell me the reason why you’re here?” growled Wade, keeping one eye focused on the gun, the other on the antagonist.

  “Did you know there’s been a woman following you?”

  “No.”

  “You must have known. We’ve been watching the woman’s every move for at least three hours.”

  The man’s voice came across more like a growl than of someone who cared.

  “If she was following me, I surmise the woman didn’t want me to see her or I’d have talked to her.”

  “Have a good think,” barked the man. “Your future depends on it.”

  Wade enjoyed rule number four the most. He never waited for the finale when the end might be too late to react. He didn’t give the man holding the gun a moment to decide whether to pull the trigger or not. Surprise always resided on the side of the JUST. Wade quickly side stepped. Using a tight fist, he jabbed the aggressor in the ribs. He heard a crack. The man yelled in excruciating pain. He crumbled to the ground spilling the gun from his hand. Wade hovered over the man at the same time the other four staggered to their feet.

  “For future reference, you don’t have to use a fist or a gun to ask me a question. If you do, you might be nursing another cracked rib.” Wade glared at the other men. “Take him and leave.”

  The men took hold of the injured man and hobbled back up the dirt path towards the city traffic.

  After Wade, had pocketed the gun, the return trip to his yacht took him past the courthouse. A slight shuffling noise erupting from the lane next to the courthouse steps forced him to stare down the lane. A second scraping noise came from behind the large four-foot cubed industrial garbage bin.

  “Why have you been following me?” called Wade, trying to ignore the stench of rotting rubbish in the lane.

  Eventually, a muffled voice spoke.

  “Listen closely to what I’m about to tell you. I will say it only once.”

  “Okay, you have my undivided attention.”

  “The woman you seek, what is her name?”

  “I’m not sure if it’s any of your concern,” called Wade, stepping into the lane.

  “Trust me, it is.”

  “Anneli,” confessed Wade.

  “Do you know her last name?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Tell me what you know?”

  Wade stepped closer to the bin. “I’m not in the habit of talking to a person hiding behind objects.”

  “Stay where you are,” urged the voice.

  Wade replayed his number four rule by sprinting for the bin. He needed to stop the messenger before the person escaped into the mainstream
of shoppers. In a panic, the foe sprinted down the lane away from the courthouse.

  The person behind the voice seemed to be more sprightly than a cat. Wade slowly narrowed the gap to his escaping foe. He lunged for the latte coloured hat the stranger wore. It fell off in his hand. The figure stopped, brushed her long blonde hair from her face and stared wide eyed at the man standing at arm’s length.

  “You’re a woman,” muttered Wade.

  “I’m happy you can tell the difference.”

  The woman started to walk backwards. Wade grabbed her forearm.

  “Let me go,” she yelled, struggling to break free.

  “No way, not until you explain the note?”

  The woman’s long blonde hair glistened in the sunlight. Wade felt sorry for the messenger. He loosened his grip, giving her a friendly lazy smile.

  “Thank you.”

  The woman held out her hand for the hat. Wade willingly handed it over. He watched her place her hair in a bun before tucking it under her hat.

  “What are you scared of?”

  “If they catch me here, I’ll be wearing cement shoes and thrown into Port Phillip Bay.”

  “Who’d do such a horrendous act?”

  “The identity of the person is not important,” hissed the woman.

  “Do you have a name?” asked Wade.

  “At this moment in time, it’s safer if I refuse to disclose my name.”

  “Why?”

  “Cement shoes.”

  Wade could tell the woman felt petrified of being discovered. The cement shoe story she spun to hide her identity could be a real prospect. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

  The woman darted a frightened stare at the end of the lane. “I have to cut our chat short. We weren’t supposed to meet.”

  “The coffee shop is not far. You’ll be safe there.”

  “I don’t have the time. You’ve also forgotten what I’ve just told you,” insisted the woman.

  “I didn’t forget. The cement shoe idea has you frightened.”

  “You won’t stop me from leaving?”

  Wade shook his head. “No. Before you go tell me something; did you write the note?”

  “Yes. I’m here to make sure you understood it.”

  “I have yet to read it,” hinted Wade stretching the truth. “Five blokes insisted we have a chat down by the lake.”

  “What men?”

  “I have a feeling you know the answer. I’m going out on a limb here. Could you be related to Anneli?”

  “Be careful of your accusations, the limb you’re standing on might break.”

  Hearing heavy footsteps near the entrance to the lane, Wade took hold of the woman’s arm, forcing her to step into a doorway further along. “Tell me what you wrote on the yellow paper?” he whispered.

  “The note handed to you by the lad on the bike has her last name on it. She will be in Darwin on Christmas eve1974. If you want to make 1975 extraordinary, take my advice, find her before new-years-day. Her father’s plans have been sped up. At five o’clock in the afternoon on the 1st January 1975, she will be standing at the altar getting married.”

  “Why have you told me this? Who are you?”

  “Who I am is not important. There’s a rumour buzzing around in certain circles there’s a man searching for Anneli. There’s also a report her fiancé, the one she has never met is not happy.”

  “Not met yet?” Wade’s voice sounded vague.

  “He’s put a price on your head,” whispered the woman. She spied a group of men entering the lane. “I’ve outstayed my time. To sum up our chat, Anneli will meet the man she has been ordered to marry the day after Christmas day. The wedding will take place on the date I’ve told you.”

  “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” asked Wade.

  The woman lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “Don’t be late.”

  The mysterious woman’s last words were still clear in Wade’s ears when she stepped away from the doorway. He stood watching her run off in the opposite direction to the Courthouse.

  Wade decided he didn’t want a rematch to his fight. He sprinted up the lane to a side entrance to the courthouse to strike up a conversation with the first cop he saw. The men ambled past, glaring. At the far end of the lane, they got into a dark blue sedan and drove off. Wade handed the gun he took from one of his attackers to the cop. He gave a watered-down summary of what happened before saying goodbye.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  December 24th, 1974. A tad less than eleven hours before Cyclone Tracy’s arrival time. The barometer needle started dropping towards nine-hundred and thirty hectopascals. When the black needle arrived at the destructive point, Cyclone, Tracy would strike.