The Day of the Gecko

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘Exactly, Les.’ The Gecko smiled back from over near the curtains. ‘All the way down in the train, I prayed that my ankle would get better. And it has. It’s a miracle, Les.’

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Norton. ‘You should be working with Tammy Baker. And I just rolled into town on a cabbage. Don’t give me the shits.’

  The Gecko sat back down on the lounge, picked up his crutch and stood it in front of him. ‘Les, would you do me a favour, please? Would you put my crutch against the wall.’ He pushed his crutch over to Norton.

  Les went to catch the crutch easily, expecting just a light alloy frame. Instead, it was that heavy it forced his arm back and he almost dropped it. Norton held it for a moment, then looked at Garrick. ‘What the . . .?’

  ‘Parts of spent uranium shells from the Gulf War, Les. Heavy little critters, aren’t they. Try lugging them on and off a train all day stuffed inside a lead-lined crutch.’

  Les looked a bit gingerly at the crutch he was holding in his hand. ‘Spent uranium shells?’

  ‘Yes. The American Tank Divisions used them as tips for their anti-tank shells. I’ve got pieces of them in there and I know how to cook them up again.’

  ‘Cook them up again?’ Norton’s eyes were like ping-pong balls when he stared at The Gecko. ‘You’re not going to . . .’

  Garrick laughed and shook his head. ‘No, Les. Nothing like that. I’m just going to make a low-yield fusion thing. Normally this is for smashing through solid metal. Concrete’ll be like a piece of sponge cake. And nice and neat.’ The Gecko stretched his arms. ‘There’ll be a little bit of radioactivity. But nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ repeated Norton.

  The Gecko shook his head and a few strands of brown hair wisped across his forehead. ‘No, nothing really. Now,’ he said, rising to his feet, ‘which is my room, lad?’

  Even though he knew Major Lewis wasn’t a cripple, Les picked up his bags for him. ‘In here, mate.’

  Garrick said he wanted to unpack a few things and sort some others out. He didn’t say anything about the room. He just picked up his crutch and put it carefully in one comer. Les showed him where the phone was and the bathroom, closed the door and left Major Lewis to his own devices. If he wanted him, he’d be in the kitchen. Les made coffee for one, then sat down and had another think before Eddie arrived.

  Well, isn’t this a nice kettle of fish I’ve got myself into. Or crutch full of uranium. That bloke might be a soldier of fortune, but half the seats are missing off his Ferris wheel. What’s he gonna do? Melt the concrete with low-yield fusion, or some bloody thing? Great, won’t that be a nice blow-up, so to speak, if it goes wrong. Norton shook his head while he sipped his cof-fee. Still, I suppose it couldn’t be any worse than that silly bloody thing me and Murray let off back home. Bloody Eddie. He sure knows how to find them. But how the hell do I get mixed up in all this shit? All I was doing was helping out an old friend in her moment of need. I was on a bloody good thing. Les shook his head again. Still, it’s only till Friday — with a bit of luck. Les heard the shower run and stared disconsolately into his coffee and wondered how all this shit he didn’t want to be in in the first place would pan out. He was still staring into his coffee, after the shower stopped, when the intercom buzzed. Les got up and walked over to the sink.

  ‘Hello. Eisenberg bar-mitzvah.’

  ‘It’s Rabbi Goldman. Open the door, I got some good tips for you.’

  Les zapped the front door, then let Eddie into the kitchen. The little hitman was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, much like Les.

  ‘So how’s it going, Eddie. All right?’

  ‘Good. Yeah. Lewis get here okay?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s just got out of the shower. You want a coffee?’

  ‘Glass of cold water?’

  ‘In the fridge,’ replied Les, sitting back down at the kitchen table. ‘Help yourself.’

  Eddie found a glass and opened the fridge. ‘So how have you found Major Garrick Lewis?’

  ‘Surprising,’ replied Norton. ‘Very surprising.’

  Eddie sat down with his glass of water. ‘So you both got on all right?’

  ‘Like two little lovebirds,’ smiled Les.

  Eddie detected just a hint of sarcasm in Norton’s voice. ‘What did he say to you?’

  Norton leant across the table. ‘Eddie, who does this cunt think he is? Frederick fuckin’ Forsyth? He’s gonna blow the bloody joint up with spent uranium shells, or some fuckin’ thing, from the Gulf War.’

  Eddie eased back, smiled and made an open-handed gesture. ‘I told you he was the best. And talking about the best . . .’ Eddie looked up.

  ‘Hello, young Edward,’ came a voice from near the kitchen door.

  ‘Gecko!’ Eddie’s face broke into a grin. He got up, then walked over and shook Garrick’s hand. Les watched as they went into the usual backslapping and bonhomie two old friends are apt to do when they catch up with each other after a while.

  ‘Jesus! You’re looking well, Eddie.’

  ‘So are you. But,’ Eddie made another gesture with his hands, ‘when didn’t you?’

  Lewis was wearing boxer shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He had strong legs, a flat stomach, hard sinewy arms and equally strong-looking hands. Norton had to agree. ‘Can I get you something, Garrick. Coffee, tea . . .?’

  Garrick moved into the kitchen, looked at Norton’s plunger and took a sniff. ‘That coffee looks all right. Any chance of one?’

  ‘I’ll make a fresh pot.’

  ‘Yeah, bugger it, I’ll have a coffee too,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Susie’s got some nice Vienna shortbreads there with chocolate cream,’ said Les, another hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘I can arrange a plate of them for you, too.’

  ‘Good idea,’ nodded Eddie. ‘Bring them into the lounge room. We’ll be in there.’

  Eddie and Major Lewis went inside and sat on the lounge; Les could hear them laughing while he got the coffee and that together. They should give me a little maid’s outfit, he smiled to himself, as he opened the packet of biscuits. Norton found a tray, put the coffee and everything on it, then took it into the lounge room and placed it on one of Susie’s coffee tables while he pulled up a lounge chair.

  ‘Ahh, good on you, Les. You’re a beauty,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Thank you very much, Les,’ said Garrick politely. ‘That looks good.’

  ‘No trouble, mate.’

  Eddie and The Gecko poured themselves a coffee, as did Les, and then they settled back and began picking at the biscuits. For three hard men about to discuss, then commit, a fairly serious crime, it was all very cosy.

  ‘So you’ve met Garrick,’ Eddie said to Norton.

  ‘Yep,’ nodded Les.

  ‘And you remember when I told you he was the best in the business?’

  ‘Yep,’ Les nodded again.

  Eddie turned to his old army mate. ‘Well, tell Les some of your little tricks, Gecko. Tell him about the bloke with the toothbrush.’

  Major Lewis gave his shoulders a shrug. ‘Why don’t you tell him, Eddie. You’ve always been better at telling stories then me.’

  ‘Back in Vietnam, Les. We had to get rid of different people on odd occasions. North Vietnamese cadres. ARVN generals. The odd American officer now and again when they went a bit loopy. We had to knock this cadre for . . . for whatever. Anyway, I was gonna shoot him. But The Gecko says no. We’ll blow him up. I’ll put a bomb in his toothbrush. So he sets a bomb in his toothbrush that worked on saliva. As soon as the poor mug put it in his mouth, it blew his head completely off. It was hilarious.’

  ‘It’s amazing the amount of germs you find in saliva,’ nodded The Gecko.

  Les shook his head in mild admiration and sipped his coffee.

  ‘And what about the bloke with the typewriter,’ said Eddie, rocking around on the lounge. ‘Les, he set a bomb in this bloke’s typewriter. It was a Yank colonel who’d cracked up and was getting everyone in the
shit. The bloke always used to end his letters “I remain as always”. So the Gecko set the thing to go off as soon as he hit those keys in that order. The poor prick’s gone to finish this letter and bingo! He got blown into sushi. It was beautiful.’

  ‘Actually, I packed just a bit too much in,’ said Garrick. ‘And there was a little collateral damage that time.’

  ‘Only that young Vietnamese poof he was humping.’ Eddie rocked around on the lounge again. ‘At least they died together as lovers.’

  ‘Yeah. They certainly remained as always,’ smiled The Gecko.

  Eddie was still bouncing around on the lounge. ‘But what about the letter bomb.’

  ‘Letter bomb?’ echoed Les.

  ‘Yeah. We were going to send this Yank general a letter bomb. But The Gecko says, fuck sending him a letter bomb, we’ll send him a postcard bomb.’

  ‘A postcard bomb?’ Norton screwed his face up. ‘That’s impossible. Unless you put it in an envelope. And people hardly ever put postcards in envelopes. That’s the idea of them,’ he shrugged.

  ‘Exactly, Les,’ said Eddie. ‘Tell him what you did, Garrick.’

  The Gecko smiled and licked his lips. ‘I got his fingerprints and his DNA and impregnated them onto this thin sheet of liquid crystal inside the postcard and the photo on the front. I rigged it so that when his and only his fingerprints made contact with the front of the postcard it set off a reaction and whammo! Not enough to kill him, but enough to blow his fingers off and blind him in one eye. And enough to get the prick out of the war before he got any more poor people killed for nothing.’

  Norton shook his head again. This time he was impressed. Impressed not only at The Gecko’s expertise in his field, but at meeting a full-on assassin. A soldier of fortune. Les always knew Eddie was a killer and Les had killed under different circumstances. But Major Garrick Lewis was something again. Killing didn’t seem to worry him in the least. He found it a challenge, then sort of analysed it and half-joked about it. And when he was out to get you, you literally wouldn’t know what hit you, till it hit you. As well as being impressed, Norton thought he might ease up on the jokes too. If I give this bloke too much cheek he’s likely to set a bomb in my brasco paper. One wipe and zappo! Kiss your arse goodbye.

  ‘Well, you certainly sound as if you know what you’re doing, Garrick,’ said Les.

  The Gecko sipped his coffee. ‘Yeah, I got half an idea what’s going on.’ He turned to Eddie. ‘Now about that . . . what I wanted to discuss with you.’

  ‘Yeah. Well . . . umh.’

  Although they weren’t looking at him when they spoke, Les knew pretty much what and who they were talking about and quickly got the hint. ‘Listen, I imagine you two villains have got a million things you want to talk about, so go for your life. I was going to tape some of Susie’s CDs and I can do it with the headphones on.’ Before Eddie and Garrick knew what was going on, Norton had tom the cover off another cassette, had Susie’s headphones round his neck and explained exactly what he was about to do. ‘I’m not missing out on a chance to tape the best of these CDs,’ he concluded, ‘bombs or no bombs.’

  ‘Fair enough, Les,’ said Eddie. ‘Good idea.’ He ran his eyes over the table full of CDs. ‘Christ! Hasn’t she got some.’

  Les winked at The Gecko, who smiled back, then picked out five CDs and filled the stacker. The two men on the lounge got into talking about whatever, and Les started flicking through the James Harman Band’s ‘Do Not Disturb’. Oh yes, Norton smiled to himself. ‘I’m Gone’ and ‘Icepick’s Confession’. Aren’t they a couple of good tracks. Before long, Les had Bob Margolin’s ‘Boogie At Midnight’. Anson Funderburgh and The Rockets’ ‘A Man Needs His Loving’ and ‘Red Hot’ by Lee Roy Parnell all taped, plus a heap of other tracks that took his fancy. He even found ‘Trailer Load of Guns’ by Jnr Cat amongst Susie’s reggae collection and taped it too. As well as being a good track it reminded Les of his seedy hotel room in Montego Bay and the people he met while he was in Jamaica. Norton couldn’t hear a word Eddie and Major Lewis were saying so he didn’t pay them much attention. But one minute they’d be laughing and bouncing all over the lounge, the next minute they’d be deadly serious.

  Garrick took Eddie into the bedroom and showed him the special crutch, then they came out, sat on the lounge, looked at some photos and got into more serious discussion. Les had one tape finished and was into another when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Eddie. Les removed the headphones.

  ‘I’m going to get going.’

  ‘Okay.’ Les put the headphones on the floor and stood up. ‘So . . .?’

  ‘We’ve gone over the whole thing from top to bottom. Garrick’ll fill you in on everything. So from now on, you just look after him and see that he gets it all together.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ agreed Les.

  ‘And this is from Price for food and if you have to do any running around or that.’ Eddie handed Les a thousand dollars. ‘He reckons if you do the catering, Garrick’ll be eating out of the Otto bins at the back of McDonald’s.’

  ‘Tell him thanks.’ Les gave Eddie a wry smile and put the money in his pocket. ‘So you’ll ring — or what?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll be in touch. Billy’ll look after the club for the next three nights and give them the same electrical fault spiel. Price didn’t want to close the club completely, just in case.’

  ‘Of course,’ nodded Les. ‘Plus he and George can sit on their arses in comfort, while we go out and blow ours up.’

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Eddie. ‘Do you blame them?’

  Norton shook his head. ‘No.’

  Eddie moved towards the door. ‘It’s not much use us being seen together. So I’ll ring you. Then I’ll see you on the day. Then on the night. 10.00 p.m.’

  ‘Then I catch the 11.37 back to Newcastle,’ said Major Lewis.

  ‘The 11.37? Shit! That’s cutting it a bit fine,’ said Norton.

  ‘That’s the way I’ve planned it,’ replied The Gecko.

  ‘Fair enough,’ answered Les.

  ‘Anyway, I’m out of here,’ said Eddie.

  The Gecko stood up, he and Eddie shook hands again and said goodbye, then Eddie was gone. When he went out the front door he gave the intercom a couple of quick buzzes as he went past. The Gecko sat back down on the lounge and kind of stared and smiled at Les; as if he was thinking about something and taking him in at the same time. Norton sat down on the footstool near the phone.

  ‘He’s a character — Eddie,’ said Norton.

  ‘Yes, he certainly is,’ agreed The Gecko. ‘We had some times together, I can assure you. And you probably don’t need me to tell you this, but he’s one of the best there is, too. He saved my neck a couple of times.’

  ‘I’d believe that,’ nodded Les. ‘We’ve had a few times together, too. Anyway, what do you want to do? You hungry or something? Maybe you’d like to go for a bit of a stroll, now that your ankle’s come good.’

  ‘The power of prayer, eh?’ smiled The Gecko. ‘No. I didn’t think you’d quite fall for that one, Les Norton.’ Major Lewis looked directly at Norton for a few moments; still thinking and still taking him in. ‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘You know where I’d like to go right now, Les?’

  ‘Down the handball court at the back of The ’Bergs?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I thought you might. You’ll need a good pair of trainers or something. We’ve got to climb over a lot of rocks covered in barnacles and shit.’

  ‘Good lad,’ nodded The Gecko, continuing to smile his lizard smile at Les. ‘I’ll get changed.’

  Ten minutes later they walked out the front door. Major Lewis was wearing a plain grey tracksuit, the same cap, Brooks basketball boots and he was carrying his overnight bag. When they got to the front of the flats, Macabee was sitting in his usual place, playing his twin roles of concerned citizen and local nark.

  ‘G’day, boss,’ said Les, a little cheekily. ‘How’s things. Seen your two mates,
the Chibi fishermen?’

  ‘Caichibi bastards,’ replied Macabee, and he spat on the ground.

  ‘My sentiments exactly,’ replied Norton.

  ‘What did that old bloke just say?’ asked Major Lewis, sounding a little inquisitive.

  ‘Buggered if I know,’ said Les. ‘He’s dirty on these two Russian blokes that are staying here.’

  ‘Russians?’

  ‘Yeah. You’ll probably see them around. They do a bit of fishing.’

  ‘Mmmhh.’ The Gecko turned round for another look at Macabee and they continued on their way.

  Rather than walk down Hall Street, where there was a chance he might bump into someone he knew, Les cut into Jacques Avenue, then straight down Lamrock, across Campbell Parade and down Notts Avenue. The wind was coming from the south now with quite a few clouds around. There were a few people on the beach or out surfing, but the baths were completely deserted. The only sign of life was the ‘Hands Off The ’Bergs’ sign flapping languidly in the late afternoon breeze. That and the odd jogger or power walker, or dog owner taking his or her dog for a crap somewhere so the joggers and power walkers could step in it. The Gecko gave the baths a bit of a once-over as they walked past, then they were standing where the baths ended, staring down the vacant lot at the old wooden fence clinging desperately above the end of the handball court.

  ‘Christ!’ said The Gecko. ‘Who’s their carpenter? That’s in worse shape than the rest of the joint.’

  ‘I think he died in 1930. A year after the place opened.’

  Major Lewis shook his head, then noticed the trail winding down to the rocks. ‘This is where we go down?’

  ‘Yeah. Follow me. You just have to watch the rocks at the bottom.’

  Les started down the trail with the major about two metres behind him. There was a bit of bump running when they got to the rocks and the rockpool had filled up, so you had to watch the swells as well as your footing or if you didn’t go on your backside you’d at least get a good soaking. Les judged the waves carefully then hopped, stepped and jumped his way over and up to the steel gate between the two pumphouses. The Gecko arrived on his heels and not puffing one bit. Norton had an instinctive look around. There wasn’t a soul in sight, so they climbed up the rocks and the steps, then took a left straight into the handball court, stopping near the peeling brick columns holding up the concrete shelter.