The Ultimate Aphrodisiac

by Robert G. Barrett

  Milne put Bazil away and everybody started to drift off. Uiitik was staying at the house for the night. So Keleu suggested to Brian it might be better if they left them to it and went back to Brian’s. This was quite all right by Brian. Ebonee went to the house with Uiitik. Milne disappeared into his room with Airu. And Brian and Keleu went back to Brian’s room. They put the music on, had another joint and a beer, then got into bed and made wild love. Twice. The sex with Keleu had been sensational as it was. But both agreed it was much better on a nice, firm double bed. After the second bout, Brian was starting to fall asleep when a noise woke him. It was Keleu getting dressed.

  ‘Where are you going?’ yawned Brian.

  ‘I am going home,’ she replied. ‘It is best. Plus you are snoring loud enough to wake my ancestors.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Brian. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

  ‘It is a lovely gesture, Brian. But you do not have to.’

  ‘I know. But I’m going to. I’m a romantic, Keleu. I can’t just toss the girl of my dreams out into the freezing cold. Now, if you don’t want the toe of my boot up your Khyber, help me find my shorts.’

  Brian walked Keleu to her door, sleepily kissed her good night and told her he’d see her in the morning when they all went to the beach. He then stumbled back to his room. Before he went to bed, Brian checked out the stars from his balcony for a few moments. Smiling to himself, he went inside, turned off the lights and climbed into bed. Brian’s last thoughts before he fell asleep were, Shit, Keleu’s got some balls. Fancy telling Takatau he snores.

  The hands on Brian’s Rolex were right on seven when he woke up the next morning. He felt a little grainy after the night’s festivities, but not too bad. He cleaned his teeth and walked out on the balcony. It was another delightful day in paradise, there were a few people outside the bread shop and the water in the harbour looked inviting. Brian got into his Speedos, grabbed a towel and headed across the road. He dropped his towel on the grass and dived in.

  Again the water was sensational and almost immediately it washed the cobwebs out of Brian’s head. He swam around for a while, had a shower alongside the jetty, waved to the people down the street as he walked back to his room, then put on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and walked down to the kitchen. Milne was seated drinking mineral water and looked like Brian felt before he had a swim. Brian wished Lengi good morning and sat down.

  ‘What’s doing, Sawi?’ asked Brian. ‘Where’s Airu?’

  ‘Having breakfast in the house with the others,’ replied Milne.

  ‘Did you kick her out?’

  ‘No. She left early. She reckons I snore.’

  ‘Yeah? That’s funny. I never get any complaints.’

  ‘I know. You’re a real gent. I heard you farting your way back up the stairs, after you threw Keleu in a taxi at two o’clock this morning.’

  Lengi served up home-made muesli with sliced fruit, scrambled eggs and herb-potato pancakes, coffee and toast. After they finished eating, Brian went to his room and got his cameras and everything else he thought he’d need, then met Milne at the board rack. Milne took the Wizstik, Brian went for the Gordon and Smith. They put the boards on the top of the car then Milne bipped the horn. A minute or two later the others came out of the house. The girls were all carrying bags and huge beach towels and wearing the skimpiest floral bikinis imaginable. Uiitik was wearing a white hemp top over his white pants, a straw hat and John Lennon sunglasses. He looked like Dustin Hoffman in Papillon. After cheerful greetings all round, they piled into the Jackaroo and set off for Windmills.

  When they arrived, Windmills wasn’t quite as big or as hairy as the day before. But it was still a good wave, with nice meaty shoulders, ideal for the mals. They spread their towels on the beach, Brian whipped off a few happy snaps then set his Canon and telephoto lens up on a tripod and told Milne to go out on the lefts. Milne paddled out and Brian took several photos of him ripping into some hot waves. The others watched Brian intently. Uiitik knew a little about photography. Brian told him what to do, then paddled out and joined Milne on the lefts. He got some unbelievable nose rides and hoped Uiitik caught some of them. The early surf was sensational with the sun coming up over the island. There seemed to be more birdlife around and the whale sharks had come back, along with an extra school of dolphins. Brian paddled over to Milne.

  ‘Hey Ron,’ said Brian. ‘How do I get round the other side of the channel if I want to get some photos of the rights?’

  ‘You’ll have to take the runabout and put it up on the sand,’ said Milne. ‘There’s no road.’

  ‘What about developing the photos?’

  Milne shrugged. ‘Normally I wait till there’s a lot of film then fly it over to Konipeau. But I won’t be going there for a while. Actually I’m waiting for a boat to bring me some digital cameras.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Brian. ‘I’ll leave it till later.’

  They finished surfing the lefts then paddled over to the rights and attacked them, ripping apart one wave after another. Finally Milne pointed to the sun.

  ‘We’d better get going,’ he said. ‘It’s graduation day at the Lan Laroi Defence Academy, and the boys will be waiting for you.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll catch the next one in,’ said Brian.

  They got their last waves and paddled back across the channel. Airu and Keleu were waiting with peeled oranges and towels to dry them off with. From what Brian could remember this had never happened at Bondi. The others had been swimming about and Uiitik said he got some good photos. The dolphins had come right up to the beach and he took a few of the girls swimming amongst them with Brian’s other camera.

  Milne pointed out the time and the others got everything together, then they all piled into the Jackaroo and headed back to the PP. Everybody got out and went their separate ways before meeting up again at the jetty. Brian went to his room, placed his bags on the coffee table and found his uniform laid out on the bed, freshly washed and ironed. He had a shower, checked all his film and wiped his camera gear, then made a few notes in his diary over a drink of water. When he’d finished, he got into his uniform and checked himself out in the bathroom mirror. It was the first time Brian had seen himself in his uniform and he had to admit, it did look good; especially the little Lan Laroian flag over the front pocket. He gave himself one last detail, picked up his instamatic camera then walked down to the President’s office and knocked.

  ‘Come in,’ said Milne. Brian stepped inside and Milne was standing in front of his wardrobe mirror. ‘Hey. Do these uniforms look all right, or what?’ grinned the President.

  ‘I was just thinking the same thing,’ replied Brian. ‘I reckon we’d make the cover of GQ or Men’s Health, for sure.’

  ‘Reckon.’ Milne turned to Brian. ‘There’s been a last minute hitch,’ he said.

  ‘There has?’

  ‘A conveyor-belt broke at the bottling plant and the boys had to fix it. So the ceremony’s been put back an hour.’

  ‘No big deal,’ shrugged Brian.

  ‘So, in the meantime, you and I are going out to visit the prisoners.’

  ‘We are?’ said Brian slowly. ‘Who’s coming with us?’

  ‘No one. Just you and me,’ said Milne.

  Brian looked at Milne suspiciously. ‘You’re not going to pull another caper out there, are you, Ron?’

  Milne shook his head adamantly. ‘No. I just want to see how they’re going. And see how Lee Britt took Clooney’s second message to the nation.’

  ‘You love rubbing it into that poor prick, don’t you?’

  Milne nodded, a slight gleam in his eyes. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I may as well bring my camera again?’ said Brian, holding up his instamatic.

  ‘Do that,’ said Milne. ‘And bring this too.’ He reached behind the wardrobe, then handed Brian a sub-machine gun with a stovepipe barrel, same as the ones Brian had seen in the bank.

  Brian took it by the strap. ‘What am I suppose
d to do with this?’

  ‘You’re an officer in the Lan Laroi military,’ said Milne. ‘You got to have a weapon. Here.’ He handed Brian two magazines. ‘There’s thirty-five rounds in each. Put one in the Dux and the other in your pocket.’

  Milne clicked one magazine into the sub-machine gun and gave Brian a quick run down on how to lock and load the weapon, put it on full auto and work the safety catch. The gun felt comfortable in Brian’s arms, but he wasn’t all that rapt.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not up to something, Ron?’ he asked.

  Milne shook his head adamantly. ‘I swear, I’m just going there to say hello. And put a bit of shit on Lee Britt, of course. But I can’t see them trying anything. Not after last time. If they do, fire a burst over their heads.’

  ‘All right,’ said Brian, looking at the weapon. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s get going.’

  Milne checked his pistol, put it in its holster and strapped it round his waist. Brian hung his camera round his neck and slung the sub-machine gun over his shoulder. He put his sunglasses on and they walked out the front, then down to the marina. Ohlo was standing there next to the runabout with the engine ticking over. He saw Brian in his uniform all armed up and snapped off a salute. Brian hesitated for a second, then saluted back.

  ‘Are you sure you will be all right out there, Sawi?’ asked Ohlo.

  ‘Yeah. Good as gold,’ replied Milne. ‘We won’t be that long.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Ohlo turned to Brian. ‘Everything should be ready by the time you get back, Takatau.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks, Ohlo.’

  Brian and Milne climbed into the runabout. Milne got behind the wheel, Brian sat next to him with the machine gun on his knee, Milne cast off and they motored slowly across the harbour towards the channel. Before they got there, Milne stopped the boat and pointed to something floating in the water. It was the wooden lid from a barrel with something stencilled on it in German.

  ‘Look at that,’ said Milne. ‘Someone must have tossed it off a ship and it’s floated in here.’ Milne stood up, took his pistol from its holster and cocked it. ‘Fucked if it’s going to pollute my beautiful harbour,’ he said. Milne aimed his pistol, there were three quick bangs and three bullets smacked into the lid, flicking splinters across the harbour. Milne turned to Brian. ‘Go on. Have a shot,’ he said.

  Brian looked at Milne for a moment then at the machine gun resting across his knees. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he said.

  Brian stood up with the Dux in one hand, slipped off the safety and did a quick lock and load. Holding the gun at his hip, he aimed it at the barrel lid and squeezed the trigger. There was a noisy burst of fire and the wooden lid danced in the water as it was ripped to pieces by a hail of 9mm slugs.

  ‘Holy fuckin hell,’ said Milne, after the tinny sound of casings rattling about in the boat subsided. ‘Where did you learn to shoot like that?’

  Thin spirals of grey smoke were wafting up around Brian’s face from the ejection chamber. ‘At a firing range in Hawaii,’ he said. ‘I got half pissed and put nearly two hundred bucks through an Uzi.’

  ‘It was money well spent,’ said Milne.

  Brian gripped the Dux. ‘These aren’t bad, though. A bit noisy.’

  Milne returned his pistol to its holster and got behind the wheel. ‘Come on, Rambo,’ he said. ‘Put the safety back on and let’s go visit the prisoners.’

  ‘Righto.’ Brian sat down and rested the Dux across his knees again.

  Milne took the boat out through the channel towards the reefs. Although Windmills had filled up, it was still working so Milne motored slowly and carefully around the swells. The dolphins and the whale sharks were still about and he took his time going across to the island while Brian snapped off a couple of photos. Eventually they were through the reefs, then Milne pulled the boat up on the same little beach and cut the motor. He took his gun from its holster, checked it and got out of the boat. With his camera slung round his neck, Brian jumped off the boat holding the sub-machine gun in one hand and joined Milne.

  ‘Like I told you,’ said Milne, pointing with his gun. ‘I’m not expecting them to try anything. But you never know. So be careful.’

  ‘All right,’ nodded Brian. ‘I’ll stay back a bit.’

  They cautiously followed the trail through the scrub and under the coconut trees, finding no sign of the prisoners. Milne stopped to look around and they continued on towards the cell block. The cell block stood beneath a coconut grove at the end of the trail and was built from uneven granite blocks joined by cement. With its flat roof, single wooden door and one barred window, it reminded Brian of a laundry in a caravan park. The prisoners were in their white uniforms and hats, seated round a bench table near the door, casually drinking mugs of coffee. Lee Britt and De Andrade were seated facing them as they approached. Taggart was seated on the left. To Brian they looked very relaxed and casual sitting in the sun sipping coffee; a little too relaxed. With the hot tropical sun almost directly overhead, it also seemed like an odd time of the day to be drinking mugs of steaming coffee. As soon as he saw Milne, Lee Britt couldn’t help himself and his face and voice had all the warmth of an ice sculpture.

  ‘What the fuck do you want, Milne?’ he said rancorously.

  ‘Well, isn’t that nice,’ replied Milne. ‘I call in to say hello, and make sure you’re all right, and that’s how you greet me.’

  Lee Britt ignored Milne’s sarcasm. ‘Shove it, Milne,’ he said.

  The others said nothing and sat sipping their coffee impassively. Brian watched them carefully and could feel Taggart’s eyes on him the whole time.

  ‘So did you see ol’ CC’s address to the nation the other night?’ asked Milne.

  ‘Yeah, we saw it,’ said Lee Britt. ‘I don’t know what you did to those helicopters, you sonofabitch, but you’re skating on thin ice, boy. And Clooney’s waiting right underneath.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Milne. ‘He was all hot in the pants, wasn’t he? Poor silly prick.’

  ‘You can laugh, asshole. But I’ll be laughing louder when we nail your Aussie ass to the nearest door.’ Lee Britt shook his head. ‘I don’t know how much crap you’re smoking on that island, but you don’t know the shit you’re in, you moron.’

  Milne shrugged. ‘You never got to see my message back to Clooney. But keep watching for the next one. It’s a pisser. And keep watching your TV after that, Tanton me old. You could be in for a big surprise.’

  ‘We’ll be watching. And we’ll be watching and waving when the marines take over your piss-ass little island.’

  Brian kept a good five metres back from Milne and his eye on the others. They still hadn’t spoken, but Brian could feel the hostility coming from the French agent, and Taggart had still hardly taken his eyes off him. De Andrade stood up, holding her mug.

  ‘I am going to get some more coffee,’ she said.

  Milne waved his pistol in the air. ‘Hold on, Frog Box. Don’t move unless I tell you to. And if you think I’m playing around with blanks this time, think again.’

  Milne aimed his pistol in the air and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He pulled the trigger again. Nothing. Milne looked at the pistol. ‘Shit!’ he said to himself hurriedly working the cocking mechanism. ‘Shit! The fuckin thing’s jammed.’ He turned to Brian. ‘Brian. I’m fair dinkum. The fuckin thing’s jammed.’ Then Milne cursed a lot louder as De Andrade threw her mug of coffee in his face, before she and Lee Britt ran at him. Brian watched for a second then turned back to Taggart. The big DEA agent stood up from the table and came slowly and methodically towards Brian.

  ‘Come on, pal,’ he said. ‘Give me the gun. You’re not gonna use it. You know that.’

  Brian looked at the sub-machine gun in his hands then looked at Taggart. ‘What?’ he said absently.

  Taggart kept coming towards him. ‘Come on, boy. Put the gun down. Give it to me.’

  Brian’s eyes narrowed at Taggart. ‘I’
d stop right there, if I were you, mate.’

  Taggart got closer. ‘Yeah. But you ain’t me — mate.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Brian. ‘Thank Christ for that.’

  Brian thumbed off the safety and squeezed the trigger. The Dux shook and banged in his hands once more and eight slugs ripped into Taggart’s chest and stomach. The big man’s mouth gaped open and his arms and legs flew awkwardly out in front of him, like he’d just been hit by a cannonball. He thumped down heavily on his behind with his hands flopped loosely at his sides, then fell to the right; one side of his face resting on the ground, staring through lifeless eyes. In seconds, blood oozed from the agent’s torn body and formed a pool around him in the dirt. Brian stared at Taggart for a moment through the wisps of grey smoke, then turned to Milne.

  The President was wiping coffee from his eyes with one hand while he swatted at the other two with his pistol. He caught De Andrade across the face and sent her sprawling against the wall of the gaol. A wild uppercut connected with Lee Britt’s chin and he fell backwards onto the table. Milne gave him another rap across the head with the pistol then walked over and banged the barrel across De Andrade’s thigh. Milne ignored the French agent’s torrent of abuse and stepped across to Brian who was still standing over Taggart. He wiped the remaining coffee from his eyes as he looked at what was left of the DEA agent then turned to Brian.

  ‘Well look at that,’ he said. ‘You didn’t bother firing over his head. Well done, Brian.’

  Brian nodded numbly. ‘Yeah. Great.’

  Milne walked jauntily across to the others. They looked at Milne, looked at Brian, then stared at Taggart’s body in disbelief.

  ‘You murdering sonofabitch,’ shouted Lee Britt.

  ‘Ohh don’t shit your pants, you big tart,’ said Milne. The President turned to Brian and pointed to the camera round his neck. ‘Why don’t you get a few photos?’

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Brian, still in a half daze at what he’d done. ‘Why not.’ He slung the machine gun over his shoulder and took some happy snaps of Taggart lying in the dirt, some of Milne and the others, then Milne took a couple of Brian standing next to Taggart’s body.