We got to Warrigal without incident and then turned onto the Princes Highway. We drove down through Moe, Morwell, Traralgon, Rosedale and finally made it to Sale. We turned off the highway, made our way through the township and then turned onto the Sale Road, now just a few miles from my home town, Maffra. That used to fucking annoy me. That it was called the Sale Road. Whatever. Maffra is very small, very country. Population five thousand two hundred and three. Only three thousand when I was there. It was weird. I hadn’t been back here since I was eighteen. Just the drive down the highway conjured up vivid memories. As a kid, I'd gone to swimming competitions in most of the towns we drove through, and of course played football at their local football grounds. Driving towards Maffra on the fucking Sale Road, I saw that the gap in the mountains was still there. The whole east coast of Victoria and NSW is just a narrow strip of land between the ocean - Bass Strait and the Tasman Sea - and the Great Dividing Range, a strip that is surprisingly narrow in places. The gap was a small rectangular cut in the mountain skyline. It was a logging center and base camp. I remembered driving through it once on a camping trip, through Dargo and across the Dargo High Plains, to a small camping ground at the base of Mount Hotham. I went with my father and mother and younger brother when I was about sixteen. We camped near a creek. I saw their faces again, more clearly than ever before. Vivid memories of them, icy cold mornings, a fire, toast and coffee, a crystal-clear stream. All three were killed in a car crash not long after we got back from Hotham. Miraculously I survived, without a scratch. That’s when I moved in with Uncle Charlie and his first wife Georgina.
I remembered noticing the Gap every school day for six years, going to Sale and back by bus for high school. I could even remember most of the twists and turns in the road, and many of the farmhouses we passed - some of which I'd been inside. I was in a funny sort of mood. I think that conjuring up all of those old memories puts your brain in a strange state, alters the chemistry. Very Deja-Vu-ish. Natasha was smiling sweetly and excitedly. She was keen to see my home town too. She was also happy to get out of Melbourne and although she was aware that some people were chasing us, she remained blissfully unaware of just how many, or the level of their intent.
We turned left into Johnston Street and continued towards the town center. The first thing I noticed was that the large Oak Trees had all been cut down. They used to line the side of the main street - tall, thick and green. They'd been replaced with new trees, but the new ones were all still small and growing. It was a bit disappointing really. Just didn’t look the same. I turned into Baker Street. The old Caltex petrol station was still there. It didn’t take me long to refill the tank, go inside to pay - by cash, that was safest now - and then get back in the car with Natasha.
I pointed to a hall just across the other side of the street. The old Scouts and Guides hall. Standing alone by itself on an otherwise empty block, it looked run-down, probably hadn’t been in use for a few years. Natasha shrugged, and then asked me,
"So what? What about it?"
I replied,
"Had my first root over there. Used to be a row of bushes on the left. Under them. All gone now, obviously. It was a mid-year school dance. I didn’t go to high school here in Maffra but I went along to the dance with my cousin Frank. Stag. We both scored."
She shook her head, moodily.
"Do you have to put it so crudely?"
I laughed.
"What other way is there?"
She looked at me again, a bit exasperated but willing to dive in.
"Oh all right, who was she?"
I smiled, savoring the memory.
"Debbie Wilson. I wasn't her first. Far from it. She was a very popular girl. Sixteen. But I was only seventeen. So that makes it legal. I think. She was a year behind me in school. Very pretty. Nice face. Long thick blackish hair, well developed tits for her age. She was quite enthusiastic as I recall. Very impressed by my ah, well you know."
Natasha sighed. Amused.
"Yes Brian, we all know. It’s fucking huge."
I ignored her sarcasm. I continued with my story.
"Yeah. Quite enthusiastic. Except not so much at the end though."
Natasha looked concerned. She asked,
"What? What do you mean?"
I explained,
"I didn’t know I was supposed to pull out. Nobody told me that. Last thing you fucking want to do at the time. She was pissed off at me, immensely. Screamed at me, hit me, ran off crying. Honestly, I just didn’t know. No sex-ed back then. I'd never even heard of condoms. The Catholic Church didn’t approve of things like that."
Natasha asked,
"What happened afterwards?"
I answered,
"Did I knock her up you mean? No. She was fine. Wouldn’t have anything to do with me though. Started spreading malicious gossip about me. Typical fucking female."
Natasha scowled at me. I hastened to add,
"Except you of course."
I paused. She didn’t respond further. I continued with my story.
"I left school at the end of the year and went straight into the army. She still had a flat belly then, five months later. After that, who knows. I doubt she made it to nineteen without a bun in the oven."
Natasha sighed again, this time a bit more cynically than I was used to from her.
"Oh, how romantic. Young love."
I objected,
"Well maybe not. But it was a big deal. This was before the internet. Sex was a big fucking mystery. There wasn’t much porn around, much harder to get than now. Girls were mysterious. What a girl looked like between her legs, what she felt like, smelt like, tasted like, was a huge fucking unknown. Not like now. The internet. A billion porn sites. Live streaming video. Every fucking twelve-year old boy is an enthusiastic amateur gynecologist."
Natasha laughed at that.
"Yeah. I was working in a strip club remember. Not just the twelve-year olds."
Somebody honked a horn at us from behind. They wanted us to move on so they could refuel. I saw red for a moment. But I suppose it wasn’t really tail-gating under the circumstances. I drove off, turning back into Johnston Street and back along the way we had come.
I pulled up outside a Woolworths Supermarket. That was new. Uncle Charlie's house wouldn't have any food. He told me it had been empty for over a year. I got Natasha to head inside - handed her a wad of cash and asked her to get enough of everything for a couple of days. It was better if I stayed in the car. Cameras everywhere these days. Fuck. I should have gotten her to pay at the petrol station. Oh well. Too late now. It didn’t take her long. She came back with a few bags of groceries, got back in the car and we drove off. I was heading for Uncle Charlie's house in Carpenter Street, on the east side of town - my home too, for my last couple of years here.
The house hadn't changed a bit. It was a large old house, wooden construction, four bedrooms. Old style. With huge rooms and windows, and long corridors and hallways. It was sitting on a large block of land - with lots of trees. The grass was short. Charlie must have someone cutting it. I had the keys Charlie gave me. I drove the car up the driveway and into the garage. Good! Some cover. We got out and walked along the path to the front door. I opened it and went on in. I enjoyed showing Natasha around the place. We went into my old bedroom. I pointed to the single bed, patted her on the ass, and asked her,
"Where were you when I was sixteen and I needed you most?"
She smiled, replying,
“Nowhere. Didn’t even exist yet.”
I shrugged.
"Oh yeah. Didn’t think of that."
Natasha put her arms around my neck, reached up and kissed me.
"How about now then?"
I stepped back. Oddly I just didn’t feel like it. Not at all.
"No, not now. Later. Let's get some lunch."
I led her out into the living room. Got her to sit down while I made us some scrambled eggs and coffee. The smell was awesome. Tasted even b
etter. We were both hungry and wolfed it down.
Behind the storm of childhood memories - more or less pleasant, except for the crash - and all of the tranquil domesticity of shopping and lunch my rage had been slowly building all morning. I hadn’t forgotten for a moment what I was here to do. I knew he was still in town. I knew where he lived. I'd checked all of that out last week while researching the bankers. Once I'd killed fucking Tommy Barton we couldn’t stay here anyway. No use getting attached to the place. I got up after lunch. I told Natasha,
"I have something to take care of."
She replied,
"OK, don’t be long"
I went back out into the garage. I was still wearing a jacket despite the summer heat. I had to. With a Glock holstered under my arm on one side and an Uzi under the other. I checked both weapons. Put in new, full magazines. An extra one of each in my pockets. Got in the car and headed off.
When he opened the door, Tommy didn’t recognize me at first. I told him who I was. Then he was stunned.
"Brian Samuals. Jeez. Haven’t seen you since High School. Come in. Come in."
He guided me into his living room. Urged me to take a seat. Took a seat for himself opposite me. He called out to his wife in the next room.
"Jennifer. Come in here for a sec darl. You'll never guess who's dropped by."
I thought to myself,
“Jennifer. Oh fuck no.”
She entered the room. Mid-forties, still good looking though. I could still see in her the pretty girl I'd had a crush on when we were twelve. Then fucking Tommy came along. I rubbed the side of my jaw where he'd hit me in kindergarten that one time, knocking me out. He was a big lad back then. Early growth spurt. Much bigger than me. Now! The little cunt wouldn’t stand a chance. I'd split him in half, even without weapons. Beat him to a fucking pulp. Tommy and Jennifer had been sweethearts all through high school. They went to the one here in Maffra. So I didn’t see them all the time. I kept my distance from both of them, though I always had a thing for Jennifer. Now they were married. Give me a fucking break.
Jennifer walked over towards us. She looked puzzled. Tommy told her who I was. She cried out,
"Brian Samuals! Well I never. This is amazing. How have you been?"
I replied,
"All right. What about you? You two married now?"
Tommy broke in. Very proud of himself. Almost boasting. Not smart.
"Twenty-seven years next month."
Jennifer added, enthusiastically,
"And we have a daughter, Marianne, twenty-two years old. Just finished her first degree at Monash. Politics and Law. A real rabble rouser."
She was also happy and proud. They started prattling on about their lives and their perceived accomplishments. Fuck all as far as I could see. They didn’t ask me anything. Not a god dam thing. Totally self-absorbed. Fucking narcissists. They didn’t seem to notice my smoldering anger, growing stronger with each passing moment. I could see that basically they were both as fucking dumb as dodos. But that's no excuse for anything. Tommy asked his wife,
"Hey darl, why don’t you make us some tea?"
Jennifer jumped up eagerly.
"Sure thing."
She got up and went into the kitchen.
It was time. I stood up, facing Tommy. I'd dreamed of this moment for weeks, explicitly. Probably much longer in one way or another. Tommy looked at me, confused. Why was I standing? I drew out my Uzi in one fast fluid motion and pointed it at him. He cried out,
"What the fuck?"
I glared at him. I was here as judge, jury and executioner. And this fuckhead deserved to die.
"You shouldn’t have hit me man. Or stolen my girl."
He started to say,
"What ...?"
I fired a burst into his chest and another into his face, killing him instantly, blood splattering as the bullets hit. His body dropped back into the chair, lifeless. I savored the moment. Sighed. Jennifer ran into the room, screaming out,
"Tommy."
She was fearless. I'll give her that. She ignored me completely. She ran towards her dead husband and tried to wrap her arms around him. She turned slightly, towards me, looked up at me, morosely, crying out,
"What have you done?"
I stared back at her. I was feeling empty. Cold and empty. I asked her,
"Why didn’t you pick me?"
She was astonished. She started to reply,
"What are you talking about ...?"
I emptied the rest of the magazine into her. Moving up and down her body. Head, chest, stomach. Bullets ripping into her. She also died instantly. Her dead body fell down over Tommy's. I stared at her for a few moments. I cried out,
"Fucking cunt."
But I was stunned by what I’d just done. I continued to stare at her dead body. I dropped the Uzi. Then I turned and stumbled out of the house.
On the drive back I felt some remorse, a bit cold and numb. I shouldn't have done that. Tommy. Yeah of course. That fucking asshole deserved to die. But not Jennifer. I shouldn’t have killed her. I don’t know where that came from. I felt some grief. But then, oh well. It was fucking done now. Forget about it. Move on. But when I got back to Natasha I was distant and moody. She could see that I was torn up about something and left me alone. We went to bed together around eleven in the master bedroom, but didn’t do anything. I'd been looking forward to fucking her in my old bedroom - in the small single bed. Making some kind of statement I suppose to my earlier sixteen-year-old self. Cheer up bud, you’re gonna get this fine piece of ass eventually. Or just for the fun of it. I don’t know. But now it was the last thing on my mind. I had trouble sleeping. I was staring at the roof for most of the night.
Chapter 18. Kill Brian.
After torturing and killing Charlie Samuals on Tuesday Svetlana went back to the motel just up the road from Saint John’s Hospital. She had decided to stay there for the time being. It was as good as anywhere else. It was more dangerous to move again. She woke up early on Wednesday morning and watched the news on TV. It was all about Brian Samuals. Australia's most wanted. By far. But there was no mention of her. She was safe for now. They'd be looking for her but they didn’t have a lot to go on and she would not be their top priority. She needed more weapons and ammunition. She had money - various secret bank accounts - so that wouldn’t be a problem once things calmed down. She had enough for now. What she really needed though was information. That fucking asshole Samuals had been staying in the same hotel. She'd had him in her sights. She felt like kicking herself. But she was a professional. Stay calm. Stay focused. Find him and kill him.
Her mobile phone rang. It was Dimitri Alexandrovistch. She did a quick calculation. It was 1:00 AM in Moscow. She picked up the phone, glanced at the name of the caller and spoke,
"Hello Dimitri."
Alexandrovistch sounded tired.
“I've sent Krikov and one hundred more men. They are there already. Get in contact. I'll send you the details. He can fix you up with more weapons and ammunition. Whatever else you want. He'll take orders from you if you like. Or you can work alone. As you prefer."
Svetlana was listening carefully. She replied,
"I'll go see him, get the weapons. But I don’t need his help."
Alexandrovistch said,
"Of course not." He paused for a while, then spoke again. "Brian Samuals is drawing a lot of heat. They'll get him eventually. But that all takes too long. Courts. Prison. I could have him hit in prison easy enough. But too long. I want you to do it, or Krikov. And I want it done now."
Svetlana replied quickly,
"Don’t worry. I'll get him."
Alexandrovistch said,
"I'm sure you will. And Svetlana, don't forget, I want him to fucking suffer. And I want it on video."
Svetlana smiled. She always made them suffer. That was the best part. She replied to Dmitri,
"You can count on that."
She waited for a few moments. She tried to
picture Alexandrovistch on the other end of the phone. She kind of liked him - in a strictly limited way. He was tough, ruthless, powerful. Just about the only male alive she didn’t feel like gutting on sight. She knew that he adored her. But she also knew that if she failed him he would have her killed just like anybody else. Of course, she was a little harder to kill than anybody else. She spoke into the phone again.
"Dimitri. What I really need is some intel. Where the fuck is Samuals now? I've got a box of papers from his Uncle. I killed him yesterday. I'll go through them. But there's probably nothing, and I have nothing else."
Alexandrovistch replied,
"I'm working on it. Someone killed Jack Williams. Brian Samuals no doubt. But I have other informants. Some Australians, police, military and some Americans too. Quite a few. One of the Interpol guys. It’s amazing what money can buy. I'll get you something soon."
101 People to Kill Before I Die Page 21