by Cenarth Fox
‘Hello Bernard. It’s Nussy.’
‘And Dorothy.’
They were in shock; Bernie piled on the bravado.
‘Be brave, ladies. I’m on my way.’
Murphy yelled at the phone. ‘Make it quick, prick, or both these slags go under the knife.’
He plunged the blade in the arm of a chair. Instinctively both women gasped.
‘Get here!’ roared Murphy.
Lois took control. ‘Mum, I need to talk to my friends. We’ll pop into the kitchen, and you can watch the television.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘We won’t be long.’ Lois turned on the TV, and helped Genevieve to stand. Luca followed the women.
‘Nice move, Lois. Now to business.’
Lois checked on Genevieve. ‘My friend is not well.’
‘No thanks to you and your magic pill,’ replied Luca.
Both women realised he knew as much as they did, perhaps more.
‘Jessica sent you,’ said Genevieve.
‘She’s worried, darling. You’re her best friend.’
Genevieve scoffed. ‘But she’d sell her Gran to save her own neck.’
Luca remained calm. ‘You are a walking time bomb, darling.’
‘I won’t talk.’
Luca laughed. ‘That’s true. You won’t talk if you’re dead.’
That comment sent the temperature plunging. Luca hadn’t raised his voice or uttered overt threats — until now. Suddenly things were out in the open. He was the assassin; Genevieve the target.
Lois threw in a possible solution.
‘What if Genevieve takes the antidote?’
Luca and Genevieve came alive.
‘What antidote?’ snapped Luca.
‘Oh please, is there an antidote?’ almost begged Genevieve.
Lois winged it. ‘I know he’s working on one. If Bernie gives Genevieve the antidote, there’s no need for this to go any further.’
‘Listen bitch, I’m in charge. Any antidote’s the support act. I want the formula.’ Lois looked surprised. ‘Oh come on, Lois. Your buddy’s drug is worth squillions. Everyone wants it; your CEO, and Genevieve’s boss in particular. And not forgetting little old me. So hand it over now or something sad and bad is going down in your bella casa tonight.’
Lois spoke. ‘I haven’t got it. Only Bernie knows the formula.’
‘Bullshit.’
Luca removed his gun. He pointed it at Lois then shifted his aim to Genevieve. Both women had no doubt he would use it. Bluffing was not in Luca’s DNA. He removed a silencer from his pocket, and screwed it to the end of his gun. He pondered his next move.
If Genevieve dies, my friend in high places will love me forever.
Nobody spoke. The only sound came from the TV in the next room.
Luca moved to get a better shot.
‘Formula, now,’ he said, waving the gun at a trembling Genevieve. He pointed the weapon, and prepared to squeeze the trigger. He took a step back to avoid any splatter and … crash! He collided with Mother, who arrived carrying the tray with the cups and tea goodies.
The elderly woman fell backwards. The tray and its contents chose their own landing spots, and Lois screamed, and ran to her mother.
Genevieve stood to help but Luca pointed his gun at her chest.
‘Freeze,’ he said, and she did.
‘Lie still, Mum,’ said Lois, helping her fallen parent.
Mother groaned. What a way to die. Lois worried even more.
She thought the old “Mother” would come alive, that her true nature would re-appear. Lois actually longed for miserable “Mother” to return.
Come on, Mum. Blame the world for your woes. Get angry.
‘Oh dearie me,’ she said. ‘Aren’t I a silly duffer?’
In that moment, Genevieve got an up-close-and-personal look at how Bernie’s Moral Compass Pill really could work wonders.
Ralph suffered serious stress. A major revolutionary drug, created by one of his staff, in his company, and under his watch, threatened his career. His spy uncovered everything except the damn formula. Now the spy had failed him, and the police were involved. Talk about a cock-up.
He racked his brains for a solution.
If I can’t get the formula, I must cover my arse.
He settled for one final throw of the dice.
It was a short drive from South Yarra to Cremorne.
Miraculously, he found a park, and walked to Bernie’s house.
I’ll confront him. I’ll bribe and belittle him. I’ll get that formula.
Ralph pressed Bernie’s bell. No response. He waited, and pressed again. Still zip. The dark house stayed dark. He tried knocking. Nothing.
Shit.
Ralph stepped into the well-lit street. Two men in suits approached.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
Ralph knew he should have stayed south of the river. At least the muggers here wear suits.
‘We’re police officers.’ They showed their ID.
‘Yes,’ asked Ralph? He regretted being born.
‘Do you mind if we ask you some questions?’
‘I certainly do mind. and I’ll thank you to stop harassing me.’
Ralph started to walk to his car but stopped when a cop spoke.
‘We can arrest you, sir.’
‘What?’ Ralph froze, adding fury to his annoyance.
‘Do you mind telling us why you were visiting this particular house?’
‘Of course I mind. It’s none of your fucking business.’
Oh, why did I say that? If you are going to be abusive, Ralph, pick on students from Dublin going door-to-door selling electricity plans.
‘The occupier of this house is of interest to the police, and we think you might be able to assist us.’
That put the brakes on Ralph’s histrionics.
‘Look, he’s a work colleague, and I have business to discuss with him.’
‘Work colleague, sir? Not a friend?’
Ralph spoke with exaggerated precision. ‘Yes and no.’
‘We would like you to accompany us to the police station, sir, to answer some further questions.’
‘No,’ said Ralph in a loud and angry voice.
He pushed past them. Oh dear. Wrong answer; wrong reaction.
At least he got a free ride in the back of the police car.
The Chief Commissioner answered his home phone. After-hours calls were de rigeur for the top cop.
‘Good evening, Commissioner,’ said Jessica Reid.
He knew her voice.
‘Good evening Premier.’
Mrs Chief Commissioner looked over the top of her glasses as her husband raised his eyebrows.
‘What progress have you made?’
‘Some progress, madam, but still no document. We currently have a man in custody. We believe he’s an associate, and possibly a lover, of the main subject of our investigation.’
‘A lover?’
‘A neighbour revealed the suspect has a male friend, and this man was apprehended trying to gain entry to the suspect’s residence.’
‘And still no sign of the drug’s creator?’
‘No, madam, but we hope the person in custody will provide the answer.’
‘Keep me informed of any development; at any time, Commissioner.’
She hung up without a please or a good night.
Fortunately, Ralph didn’t hear that conversation.
Murphy grew more impatient. No sign of Bernie, and now the Ulsterman wanted a pee.
‘I need y’leithreas.’
Anyone from Belfast would have pointed to the loo. In Australia, the locals were clueless. The Hungarian Aussie thought he spoke Chinese.
‘Where’s y’feckin’ toilet?’
‘Through the kitchen,’ said Dorothy pointing.
Murphy heaved a chest of drawers against the double doors to the hallway and snatched the phone.
‘Try anything an’ I’ll feckin�
�� kill you — slowly.’
He left, and the women looked at one another. Both were teary. They wanted Bernie. They wanted peace. They wanted this man to go away.
‘Meow.’
Albert appeared from behind the settee. The women fussed. They reached for him. He sidled closer.
What’s going on? Where’s my master?
They stroked Albert, and whispered kind words.
Suddenly a door slammed, and footsteps boomed from the kitchen. Albert panicked, and raced to escape. He crashed headlong in to the Belfast brute.
‘Feck off!’ yelled Murphy, and kicked at the cat. Luckily, the kick missed, but now trapped, Albert crouched and hissed. Murphy stooped to slash or stab the cat, which did what any cat could and would do in that situation.
Murphy screamed in pain as Albert the Slasher scored points from all three judges. Brendan dropped his knife and sucked his bloodied hand.
He swore, and stooped to pick up the weapon. Dorothy snatched a vase, and whacked the stooping Murphy’s head. Annuska kicked his kneecap, and “the bigger they are the harder they fall” Murphy crashed.
En route to the floor, he struck his head on the table. Annuska, with her low centre of gravity, sat on him. Dorothy put the knife at his throat.
Shite, shite, shite. Not again.
Dorothy grabbed the phone, and dialed 000.
Annuska reached for Dorothy’s knitting, dragged Murphy’s hands behind his back, and proceeded to pull the wool over the Irishman.
‘Not again,’ moaned Murphy. ‘Not feckin’ again.’
Someone started frantically knocking and calling.
‘Annuska, Dorothy, I’m here.’
The women rejoiced.
‘Come round the back,’ called Dorothy.
Moments later, Bernie burst into the room. What a sight to behold — two female octogenarians astride the Irish brick outhouse, now impersonating a beached whale with depression.
Not once, but twice, the former paramilitary hard man from the Falls Road had been reduced to this — stitched up by female OAPs.
I’m on the first feckin’ plane back to Belfast.
Bernie made Murphy more secure, and then helped his friends. What a night.
‘Right, ladies,’ said Bernie, ‘we definitely need to talk.’
They heard a police siren, then a second. Bernie twitched.
‘That sounds like the cops.’
‘We called them,’ boasted Dorothy.
‘What?’
Bernie panicked.
Car doors slammed. Voices called. Torches flashed in the jungle.
The women looked perplexed.
‘Bernard, what’s wrong?’ asked Annuska.
‘I can’t stay here. What will I tell the police? They may know about the Premier’s Chief of Staff.’
A voice called from outside. ‘This is the police. Open the door, now.’
Bernie headed for the kitchen.
‘Can I escape through the backyard?’
The confused women nodded. More door banging.
‘I’ll call you,’ cried Bernie, and vanished.
Dorothy opened the front door, and police officers entered with guns drawn. When they saw the muscled monster trussed and sobbing, head shaking and incredulity became all the rage.
‘You two ladies overpowered this man?’
‘We had some help from Albert,’ said Dorothy.
The feline, who hated publicity, retired to his cardboard box in the laundry. Brendan considered prayer.
Ralph’s fury smoldered. Failure was bad enough but humiliation?
I’ve been arrested for what? Visiting a work colleague? Outrageous doesn’t begin to cover it.
‘I wish to make a call, and need my mobile to locate the number.’
The desk sergeant passed the office phone, and Ralph’s mobile. Everyone could hear. What’s privacy?
Ralph found the number and dialed. The Victorian Premier answered.
‘Hello.’
‘This is Dr Ralph Hetherington-Smythe.’
‘Good evening, Doctor. Have you located Bernard Slim?’
‘No. In fact I’ve been arrested without charge, and would strongly suggest you do whatever is necessary to have me released immediately.’
Jessica paused. ‘Please stay calm, Doctor.’
‘I will not stay calm. I’ve had enough of this whole wretched business, and unless you take decisive action right now, I’ll contact the media. Do you understand?’
‘Stay on the line, Doctor. Where are you?’
He was within spitting distance of Labcope. Jessica called the Chief Commissioner. After a brief conversation, she spoke again to Ralph.
‘I’ve attended to the matter, sir. You will be released shortly.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I am still seeking the document, and any assistance you can provide in the matter will not go unrewarded. I hope you understand that, sir. Good night.’
Almost immediately, a phone rang in the police station. The desk sergeant answered in a flat tone, which suddenly became deferential.
The phone call ended, and Ralph and his possessions were reunited.
‘Can we offer you a lift, sir?’ asked the arresting officer.
Ralph ignored him, and walked into St Kilda Road.
20
BERNIE FLED into Annuska and Dorothy’s back yard, an ideal training ground for Bear Grylls. The scientist pushed through the overgrown garden. It was pitch black.
Where the hell am I?
Lights flashed from the side of the house, and a male voice carried.
‘Check the back yard.’
‘It’s a jungle.’
Bernie blundered towards the back fence. The rails were on his side so he climbed and straddled the top. A torch flashed in his direction.
‘I think I just saw David Attenborough,’ joked a cop, getting close.
Bernie dropped next door. Hallelujah — lawn. Lights shone in this house, and the driveway gave access to the next street.
The scientist crouched, crept across the lawn then stalled. The back door opened, and a dog bounded towards him, its ferocious bark the entrée. Those teeth were made for chewing.
Bernie shooed the beast but such efforts were like a red rag to a bull — a pitbull. Pathetic kicks from Kung fu Slim. Fido fancied the intruder, and selected the finest leg in the shop. Ow! Bernie shoved his bag against his leg and lessened the war wound. His blood-dyed daks now featured air-conditioning. He whacked the hound, and broke free.
A clothesbasket on wheels slumbered beneath the clothesline. Bernie grabbed the basket as a battering ram cum shield. The dog hit the volume button. Lights came on in the backyard. The owner opened the back door, and summoned the canine. This meant a moment of distraction.
Bernie sprinted. He leapt a wire mesh fence, and landed in the driveway. The dog smashed against the fence, bellowing at Bernie, Come back, coward. The owner yelled to someone to call the police.
Bernie mimed a reply.
They’re over your back fence!
Bernie chased freedom. He hit the street, looking both ways. Six of one, he thought and took off.
He crossed to the darker side of the street, and regretted having ever entered the darker side of drugs.
His chewy calf throbbed. Running was not his bag. Many cinnamon doughnuts cramped his style. What style? He paused for breath, and his phone rang. Leaning against a hedge, he puffed and spoke.
‘Hello.’
‘Bernie, it’s Lois.’
‘Oh hi, Lois. Sorry, I’m out jogging.’
Her voice screamed fear.
‘Bernie, you’ve got to help me.’
He panicked. ‘What’s happened?’
‘A madman’s here with a gun. He’s threatening to kill Mother unless I give him the formula.’
‘Another madman?’
‘What?’
‘Can you call the cops?’
‘No! He won’t let us. Unless you com
e here right now, he’ll shoot my mother. Please come now, please.’
‘Okay, I’m coming. I’m in Balaclava. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell the madman he can have the formula.’
‘Please hurry. Oh and Bernie?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can you bring the antidote too? The Premier’s Chief of Staff is here.’
The line went dead. Bernie tried to think.
The formula and the antidote. What antidote? Lois lives in St Kilda. If I get to Carlisle Street, I might make it. Have I got those placebo pills?
Ralph despaired. His life was spiraling out of control. No promotion to the States. No formula. No way of finding it. No support from his spy. And criminals and politicians were invading his privacy.
My life is finished.
It was a short walk to Labcope. He banged on the locked front door. Security approached and challenged him.
‘Could I see your ID, sir?’
Ralph laughed when people said, “Don’t you know who I am?”
‘Sir? Your ID?’
‘Don’t you know who I am?’
Nobody laughed.
The security guard was relatively new, and didn’t know Ralph from Adam. Besides, the boss rarely worked this late at Labcope.
Ralph exploded.
‘Listen, you cretin, I’m Dr Ralph Hetherington-Smythe, CEO of this national company, and unless you let me in right now, you’ll be unemployed in the morning.’
The security guard spoke quietly to his supervisor via two-way radio. ‘Boss, there’s a nutter outside threatening me. I think we should call the cops.’
Ralph, in his rage, didn’t hear that conversation. He did hear the police siren as a patrol car pulled up behind him.
Bernie limped, and stopped for breath. His trouser leg was decorated with blood, and his daks started a trend in vertical ripped garments.
Why did I ever create that conscience drug?
He leant on a fence, and saw it — a kid’s scooter; out in the weather, forlorn yet inviting. With not a soul in sight, he crept into the dark yard, and became a thief.
The scooter was way too small but in good working order. So with his bloodied leg astride the machine, the starter’s flag dropped. The scientist took off with less strain on his lungs. Go Bernie.