‘Yessir,’ said Clooney. ‘We should all live in peace.’
‘My oath,’ nodded Milne. ‘Now. There should be some bank documents and terms of agreement for me to sign.’
‘Right here,’ said Clooney.
The Attorney-General and an aide stepped forward and handed Milne a bound dossier. Milne opened it and went through it quickly and carefully. ‘Yes. That looks to be in order,’ said Milne. He signed all six copies, put three in his bag and handed three back to the Attorney-General. Milne smiled and rubbed his hands together again. ‘And now, Cliff,’ he said to the President. ‘The lazy five mill, aka the briefcases.’
‘Sure thing, Ron,’ said Clooney.
The Attorney-General’s aide placed two solid black briefcases on the table. He flicked them open and Milne gave each case a quick perusal. They were crammed with neatly stacked hundred-dollar bills. Milne knew five million when he saw it. He went to take a few bills out.
‘What do I owe you for the film and the camera, Cliff?’ he asked.
Clooney put his hands up and shook his head. ‘No. That’s okay, Ron. That’s the least I can do, after all those fine presents you gave me.’
‘Fair enough.’ Milne snapped the briefcases shut and handed them to Sohte. He then threw his arms around Clooney and gave him a Russian bear hug Boris Yeltsin would have been proud of. ‘Mate. What can I say,’ he beamed, vigorously pumping Clooney’s hand again. ‘Everything’s worked out neater than Bianca Jagger’s bikini line.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Clooney. ‘Something like that.’ He nodded towards the two battleships. ‘So how are you going to get those two ships back to Lan Laroi? Do you want the navy to tow them for you?’
Milne shook his head. ‘No. They’re not for me. They’re for the Loo Noo. They said as soon as everything was sorted out here, they wanted to give you a demo of what them there little ol’ flying contraptions of theirs can do.’ Milne turned to the brass and Clooney’s Cabinet. ‘Hey fellahs. Have a look. This could be good.’ Milne took his cap off and waved it over his head. ‘Righto. Go for your life,’ he yelled up at the disc.
Sitting in the disc, Brian had been watching the proceedings with interest. He could pick up the body language between Milne and Clooney and sense the loathing amongst the brass and the men immediate to the American President. He’d noticed Clooney waving before, which was why he put on the quick demo. Brian was lining up another photo when he saw Milne wave his hat.
‘Hello,’ said Brian. ‘I think that’s my cue.’
Brian put his camera down, took the disc up and did a barrel roll towards the two old battleships, going in close enough to read the names on their bows. The USS Fort Peck and the Draguignan. Brian decided to take out the French ship first. He flew back, hovered halfway between the Warren and the two battleships and primed AMI on three. The red dots joined and Brian pulled the trigger. The DV hit the Draguignan on the portside with a deafening crunch that echoed right through the fleet. There was no ammunition on board, but a spark ignited the fuel and it exploded in a cloud of rolling orange flame. Huge pieces of decking and steel plates erupted into the air along with the gun turrets and smokestacks. Brian clicked AMI back to one, zoomed in and strafed everything as it fell towards the ocean. The battleship’s stern and bow were left sticking out of the water, surrounded by floating debris. Brian clicked AMI on two and blew both ends to pieces, leaving nothing on the ocean but a few patches of burning oil and scattered wreckage. He clicked AMI on to three and strafed the surface putting out the fires then barrel-rolled back above the Warren and hovered. Clooney glanced around him at the shocked brass and ashen-faced members of his Cabinet. The photographers and film crews were blinking at each other, almost unable to believe what they had just captured on film.
‘Well, I’ll be rooted,’ said Milne. ‘Wild little buggers, aren’t they?’ He turned to Clooney. ‘Shit! I’d hate to get on the wrong side of them.’ Milne smiled and picked up his carry-bag. ‘Anyway. I have to get back to the island. So long, Cliff me old mate. It’s been a pleasure.’ Milne and Sohte started for the gangplank when Milne stopped and pointed to the Fort Peck. ‘Oh. I’m not sure, but I think they said they’re going to do the same to the other one. See you fellahs.’ Milne snapped off a salute, then he and Sohte scrambled down the gangplank. Ohlo had the seaplane ticking over, Milne smiled and saluted the ratings in the cutter, then he and Sohte climbed on board the seaplane, closed the door and Ohlo started taxiing away from the Warren. Brian gave the seaplane time to take off and climb to safety, then he flew out to the Fort Peck.
This time Brian hovered the disc closer to his target and set AMI on two. Swiftly and efficiently he started blasting the ship’s superstructure to pieces from stem to stern. Slabs of metal, pipes, portholes, smoke stacks, giant gun barrels, the bridge, everything was torn from its foundations and sent flying. Some sections splashed into the ocean, others smashed down onto the deck as Brian kept pumping the trigger, enjoying himself immensely. When the superstructure and gun turrets were obliterated, Brian flew above the battleship, set AMI on three and tilted the disc nose-down. He pressed the trigger and a single fat DV spun into the Fort Peck’s hull with another sickening crunch, snapping it in half; the huge old ship was slammed down into the water that fast, the fuel didn’t even get a chance to ignite. Before the two halves had time to sink, Brian clicked AMI on two and gave them the same treatment as the Draguignan, scattering hot metal and shards of decking over the ocean. He clicked AMI on three to strafe the pieces of decking and soon all that remained of the Fort Peck was an oil slick and some tiny pieces of wreckage floating on the surface. Satisfied with his work, Brian flew over and buzzed the fleet, then hovered back above the Warren. He stayed motionless for a few moments then wiggled the disc, gripped the joystick and vanished across the ocean.
The ship’s company and the film crews were absolutely astonished; the brass and the people around Clooney gaped after the glowing light that had disappeared over the horizon. The Secretary of State was the only one to speak.
‘Well, Mr President,’ he said quietly. ‘What do you say to that, sir?’
Clooney thought for a moment. ‘What do I say to that?’ he answered. ‘I say, God bless America. And peace and joy to Lan Laroi.’
Shortly after, Brian had docked the disc in the temple and was seated at the stone table having a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He was enjoying the cheese and salad sandwich, but he wasn’t enjoying the atmosphere; it was spooky being alone in the temple. There were four shots left in his camera. Brian finished the roll in the temple, then put everything back in his bag and walked out to the car.
John Mayall was taking his harmonica to ‘World War Blues’ and Brian was in a good mood as he rumbled through the jungle in the Jackaroo. The day had gone better than he expected and Sohte looked good, walking down the Warren’s gangplank in his fatigues holding the two briefcases. Good old Sawi, Brian smiled. Clooney might have started it, but Sawi certainly finished it. A shower passed over as Brian approached the farming area, then it eased off halfway through the rainforest. The sun was shining when he motored into Key Harbour, there were one or two people outside the bread shop and the wind had picked up a little, rustling the trees and scudding across the harbour. Brian parked the Jackaroo on the grass and took his bag up to his room. He hung his uniform up, splashed some water over his face and changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He walked down to the kitchen with the esky and thermos and found the conference room door half open.
‘Hey, Brian. In here, mate,’ a voice called out.
Brian stepped inside and Milne was fiddling around with the VCR. The two briefcases were on the conference room table along with Milne’s travel bag.
‘Ron. What’s doing?’ said Brian.
‘We caught a wind shear on the way back, so I’ve been home a while,’ replied Milne. ‘I had time to tape a quick victory speech for the punters. Check this out.’ Milne pushed a button on the remote and a video rolle
d on the giant screen TV. Milne was seated in the same clothes at his desk. He looked happy and hadn’t bothered to comb his hair.
‘Citizens of Lan Laroi,’ Milne started cheefully. ‘This is your President and Sawi greeting you. Citizens, I have some great news. The war against the Ongi is over. The prophecy of the silver circles has come to pass, and Takatau and myself were able to help the Loo Noo defeat the Ongi. War is over. Peace and joy once again reigns on Lan Laroi. Wartime restrictions have been lifted. Which means the public holidays finish this Wednesday, and you can go back to work. I knew you’d like that. And there’s more great news, folks. Despite the war, the economy is looking better than ever. It’s roaring along. So major benefits will be coming up for all citizens. And tonight we are having victory celebrations at the Key Club, on the government. I would like everyone to come along and celebrate this joyous occasion. So see you tonight and bring your dancing shoes. Good afternoon. And peace and joy to Lan Laroi.’
Milne switched the TV off and smiled. ‘What do you reckon? I did it in one take.’
‘You just keep getting better all the time,’ said Brian. ‘I can see you doing an in-depth interview with Oprah Winfrey on prime time American TV.’
‘You never know,’ replied Milne. ‘But I wasn’t lying when I said the economy was looking good. And cast your meat pies on this.’ Milne flicked open one of the briefcases and showed Brian the rows of hundred-dollar bills.
‘Great day in the morning!’ said Brian. ‘Look at all that bloody money.’
‘Your million’s in there somewhere. That’s almost two million Australian.’
‘You did it, Ron. Shit! I don’t know what to say.’
Milne closed the briefcase. ‘Say thanks at eleven o’clock tonight when I whack it up in here with the three chiefs.’
‘Okay,’ answered Brian.
‘Here’s your film, too.’ Milne handed Brian the rolls of Kodak. ‘And check this out.’ Milne showed Brian several polaroids of him and Clooney shaking hands and smiling or standing in front of Clooney’s sourfaced Cabinet. ‘Wait till poor fuckin Lee Britt sees these. He’ll hang himself in the prison shithouse.’
Brian shook his head in amazement. ‘They’re great photos.’
‘I got some more with an instamatic as well.’
Brian studied the polaroids then handed them back to Milne. ‘Where’s Keleu and Airu?’
‘Round Lengi’s house helping her move a bed,’ said Milne. ‘You fancy the late? And I’ll tell you what happened on the Warren.’
‘All right,’ answered Brian.
‘Fair dinkum. You should have seen the looks on their faces when you blew up that first battleship.’
Brian took the esky back to the kitchen, then went to his room and got his board shorts and towel. He met Milne downstairs and they took the bigger mals from the rack and put them in the Jackaroo. When they got to Windmills it was a bit bloomfy and the wind was blowing across. But they were still fun waves and the afternoon breeze was delightfully refreshing. Naturally both Brian and Milne were in a great mood and had a ball out in the water, hanging heels, riding tandem, doing go-behinds, belting out huge flick-offs and simply carrying on like two big kids. Despite the less than perfect conditions it was one of the most enjoyable day’s surfing Brian had put in at Windmills. They stayed till it was almost dark, then made their way up to the car and drove back to the PP. When they got to Key Street, the chairs and tables were out again and men and women were hanging lights all over the place and the military was stringing lights along the tugboat and the seaplane moored at the jetty.
‘I don’t like the look of this, Sawi,’ said Brian. ‘The natives seem more restless than ever.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Milne. ‘I’d say it’s going to be a big one tonight.’
‘What’s the dress code for the peace celebrations?’ said Brian. ‘I was thinking of wearing my flying uniform and wings.’
‘Why don’t you? I’ll wear mine, too.’
They hosed the surfboards, put them away, then Brian went to his room and had a leisurely shower. He made a few entries in his diary, then got into his uniform. From his balcony Brian could see more people arriving in their feathers, beads, face paint, flowers and whatever till it looked as if the whole island was swarming around the front of the PP in a blaze of colour. Brian gave himself a last detail then took his instamatic camera and spare film and walked down to the kitchen.
Lengi was at the stove, Brian said hello and Milne arrived a few minutes later.
‘I just had a look out the front,’ said Brian. ‘Every man and his dog and every woman and her cat are here.’
‘Yes. It’s going to be a big one,’ said Milne. ‘You in a party mood?’
Brian nodded in the direction of the conference room. ‘There’d be something wrong with me if I wasn’t.’
Lengi served Spanish salted cod with chilli and rice, Key lime pie and coffee. After two solid pieces of fish laced with deadly chilli Brian felt he could drink enough beer to fill an olympic pool. Ohlo and Sohte arrived, snapped off a salute and it was time to hit the Key Bar.
Downstairs the place was swarming, awaiting the arrival of Sawi to crank up the music and get the show on the road. As soon as the crowd spotted Sawi and Takatau a wave of cheering rolled over them. Brian and Milne raised their arms in the air and danced through the people up to the VIP area. The chiefs were already there with their wives all dressed to the nines in their tribal colours. The girls were seated wearing floral tank tops and shortened wihros. Uiitik was all pumped up finding himself in the VIP area again, and wearing a white hemp Mao jacket and trousers with his hair combed back, he looked like Dr No’s understudy. All the girls were tanned up, smelling sweet and looking very foxy. After greeting everybody Brian and Milne sat down alongside Keleu and Airu.
Keleu smiled at Brian. ‘You look very handsome in your uniform tonight, Brian,’ she said.
‘Thank you, Keleu,’ answered Brian. ‘You look pretty gorgeous yourself.’
Keleu kissed Brian on the cheek. ‘You’re such a beautiful boy.’
Brian kissed her back. ‘And you’re a beautiful girl.’
The night couldn’t have got off to a better start. All the military were mustered on duty and cold beers promptly arrived on the table. Brian downed the first one that fast it hardly touched the sides. Milne drank half his beer then went across to the DJ booth and got on the microphone.
‘Good evening citizens of Lan Laroi. And welcome to a special night at the Key Bar. Now we all know why we’re here. There’s been a terrible outbreak of peace. The prophecy of the silver circles has been answered. And the Loo Noo have cleaned up the Ongi. So we’re here to celebrate.’ The crowd yelled and clapped their appreciation. ‘But we’re not here to listen to me. You saw me on TV today. That was enough. There’s only one man we want to listen to. Yes sir. Your friend and mine. Bebop Baziilll.’ The crowd screamed and howled again. ‘I spoke to the chiefs earlier. And Bazil’s going through till one — o — clock. That’s right, folks. Into the wee small hours. Tomorrow has been cancelled by order of the government.’ The crowd cheered even louder. ‘So let’s have a big hand for Bazil and his first song for the night. Bill Haley and the Comets annnnd “Rock Around the Clock”.’ Milne hit the play button, the music blasted out and in seconds the dancefloor was filled with howling, stomping Indians in their face paint, feathers and moccasins. Milne made it back to the table just in time for the first humungous bong of the evening. The President sucked it down and after that the night went berko.
Brian smoked pot and got into the booze like there was actually going to be no tomorrow. Beers, rums and cones. Down they went. Within an hour Brian was totally monstered and had the photos to prove it. He danced with Keleu and Airu and several crazily painted women in even crazier outfits. He danced with Ebonee and still felt he was picking up that odd vibe. Sitting at the table, Brian also felt he was picking up a different vibe from the chiefs tonight. But he put it down t
o too much booze and pot. Too much or not, Brian got into it knowing he could do no wrong. Even if he fell over dead drunk and out of it, someone would take him home. Probably Keleu. Although she looked just as out of it as Brian was. The night seemed to fly and soon it was time to go upstairs and split the loot. Brian took his beer and fell into step with Milne and the three chiefs as they made their way through the parting crowd. They trooped upstairs into the conference room, closed the door behind them and sat down at the table. Everybody had a beer, Milne produced another bottle of Gentleman Jack and some ice from a bar fridge near the balcony and made them all a nice big shot each.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Milne. ‘Even though there’s nowhere on the island to spend it, here it is.’ He opened the two briefcases. ‘A million dollars each. Not bad for sitting on your fat arses while me and Takatau did all the work. But who gives a stuff. Cheers, great chiefs.’
The three chiefs stared at the money. ‘Yes. Cheers, Sawi,’ they chorused. Then everybody took a hit of Jack with a beer chaser.
‘We are in your debt,’ said Chief Namalek.
‘We owe you from our hearts,’ said Chief Isosueri.
‘You are truly the prophecy,’ said Chief Somohl.
‘All I can say is thanks,’ added Brian.
‘And thank you, Takatau,’ said the chiefs.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Milne. He had another sip of Jack and winked at Brian. ‘Not bad for a few days’ work on beautiful Lan Laroi.’
‘Not bad at all,’ agreed Brian. ‘Even though I did some pretty bad things to earn it.’
‘Maybe,’ said Milne.
‘No maybe,’ asserted Brian. ‘I did.’
The room suddenly seemed to go quiet and Brian noticed everyone seemed to be staring at him. Milne was half smiling.
‘Brian,’ he said. ‘There’s something I have to ask you.’
‘Yeah. Go on,’ said Brian.
‘All right. That invitation I sent you was pretty enticing. But what really made you come all this way to meet a man you’d never seen, in a place you’d never heard of? There had to be something. Was there?’
The Ultimate Aphrodisiac Page 40