In fact, they should’ve renamed the Grammar 1992 yearbook ‘The Many and Various Accomplishments of the Student Formerly Known as Byron Farr-Jones’.
The Classics prize. Maths prize. Physics prize. Essay award. Dux of the school. You name it, he won it. Not only that, he was a champion rugby player and a gun rower. He didn’t have dreadlocks in the photo, but it was him all right: it was Thor, eco-ninja extraordinaire.
I was actually feeling quite pleased with myself; it had only been the smallest of clues: Thor asking me if Dr Chakrabarty still taught at the school, Hanley finding that the message had come from that one area of Nimbin, but it had led me here.
Now I had another decision to make: what to do about it?
On the one hand they were only text messages, they couldn’t hurt me; but on the other hand I recalled the urgency in Dr Chakrabarty’s voice when he said, ‘Find out who is sending them and demand that they stop!’
Besides, and maybe this was the real reason: anything was better than waiting for Godot, than waiting for The Debt.
Friday
To Nimbin, Again
The first time I’d gone to Nimbin it hadn’t been a whole lot of fun.
Getting there hadn’t been a whole lot of fun.
Being there hadn’t been a whole lot of fun.
And getting home hadn’t been a whole lot of fun either.
So this time I figured, why make it hard on myself, why not go there in some style? No scuzzy public buses, no taking my life into my hands by hitchhiking – none of that.
I called Luiz Antonio instead.
He answered straightaway.
‘Can you drive me to Nimbin?’ I said.
‘Nimbin is a long way,’ he said.
‘I’m well aware of that. Can you take me or not?’
‘At least two hundred dollars.’
Yes, I know that generally taxi drivers require money for their services, but because I couldn’t remember ever having paid Luiz Antonio for his, this mention of money came as a shock.
‘Two hundred dollars?’ I said.
‘At least.’
‘You take card?’ I said.
‘Of course,’ said Luiz Antonio in a weary voice.
He picked me up fifteen minutes later from outside Cozzi’s and even the black coffee I handed him didn’t seem to cheer him up.
‘Coffee in this country,’ he said after taking a sip, ‘it’s not like at home.’
‘It’s not good?’ I said.
‘I didn’t say that – of course it’s good. Especially from Cozzi’s. It’s just not like it is at home.’
Now I wished that I had caught the bus, scuzzy or not, because this wasn’t much fun either.
‘How about some samba?’ I said. ‘Bad feet and a sick head.’
‘The other way around,’ he said.
‘Yeah, that’s right – bad head and sick feet.’
Luiz Antonio fiddled with the stereo and the samba came on.
But that didn’t seem to work either so I thought, bugger it, why not ask him right now?
‘Can I ask you a question?’ I said.
‘You’re going to anyway, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘Not if you don’t want me to.’
‘Just ask the question,’ he said.
‘Why are you watching my back?’
‘Because you’re a stupid dumb kid, and if I don’t you’re going to end up morto,’ he said.
‘Dead?’
‘Morto.’
‘But why me?’ I said. ‘Isn’t the world full of stupid dumb kids?’
‘Not so stupid. Not so dumb.’
Enough with the random insults already. Really, was I that stupid, that dumb? Hadn’t I managed to pay four instalments, a small town in northern Ghana branded on the inside of my thigh as the proof?
‘Whatever,’ I said, and I leant back into the seat and looked out the window at the rainforest that crept up almost onto the road.
Just as we neared Nimbin Luiz Antonio said, ‘I am not that man of that night.’
‘You mean the man who dropped those thugs – you were awesome,’ I said.
‘That is not who I am,’ he said. ‘Not any more.’
There were a lot of things I wasn’t getting here.
I picked one out.
‘But you are, like, totally into UFC. You love that stuff.’
‘I watch it,’ said Luiz Antonio. ‘But I don’t do it.’
I thought about this for a while.
‘So what are you asking me?’
‘Please don’t put me in the situation where I have to become that man again.’
‘So don’t ask you to take me places? To pick me up?’
‘That’s not what I said.’
I didn’t push it any further.
When we reached the centre of Nimbin Luiz Antonio said, ‘Where to?’
‘Right here will do,’ I said. ‘In front of the police station.’
Luiz Antonio pulled up and I took my credit card from my wallet and went to hand it to him.
He waved it away.
‘Later,’ he said. ‘I wait here for you.’
‘No, it’s okay.’ I said, opening the door. ‘You can go back if you like.’
He wouldn’t go back; he never did. It was just this game we played.
‘Okay, I go back,’ he said.
I got out and he took off and left me in Nimbin.
So what, I thought. It’s about time I started standing on my own two feet.
Ω Ω Ω
It seemed ages since I’d been here last, but it didn’t seem to have changed much. Again I got offered several different sorts of drugs from several different pushers as I walked down the main street. The woman in the short skirt and low-cut blouse wasn’t on the corner, though, and I wondered if her life had got better, whether she was now manning a counter at Centrelink or something. Something told me that wouldn’t be the case, however.
I walked past Coast Home Loans, the office I’d seen Dad come out of that day with Rocco Taverniti and Ron Gatto and another man I didn’t know, speaking Calabrian like a ’Ndranghista.
I thought of what Mr Jazy had said about the housing boom in the Gold Coast, about it being one big Ponzi scheme.
I’m not sure why this had found what seemed like a permanent place in my brain – housing booms and Ponzi schemes weren’t exactly major fields of interest to me – but it had.
But I didn’t have time to explore any of that further because – big wheels rolling – Mandy was coming towards me in her wheelchair.
I’d met some seriously scary people since The Debt had come into my life.
Hound de Villiers was major-league scary. So were the Lazarus brothers. The Mattners. Not to forget the two Warnies with their liking for testicular electrocution.
But none of them scared me as much as the handi-capable Mandy.
I quickly looked at my watch, smacked my head as if – derbrain! – I’d forgotten something, and spun around and walked back in the direction I’d come.
As far as acting performances went, it wasn’t brilliant, but it seemed to serve its purpose because Mandy rolled off in the opposite direction, having given absolutely no indication that she’d recognised me. I watched her disappear around the corner before I retraced my steps.
The café where I’d drunk all the chai that day had closed down and there was an enormous For Rent sign on the front of it, graffiti scrawled all over it.
A quick read told me that the residents of Nimbin, those with spray cans anyway, weren’t great fans of the local police. Not only that, they had many suggestions as to what they should do with their spare time. And a lot of it seemed anatomically implausible.
Now that I’d made it to the front of the Fiends of the Earth office, I seriously had to ask myself if it was as good an idea as it had seemed a couple of hours ago.
Because it was pretty obvious that I was walking into a big old trap.
The text message
had been the bait and I’d followed it all the way here.
As soon as I walked through the door – snap! I’d be like one of those mice, legs twitching, head twitching, unable to move, my guts squashed by that steel wire.
Still, I pushed the door to the Fiends of the Earth office – it creaked open.
Wider. And wider.
Alpha and Thor, the two eco-ninjas, were sitting either side of a desk. Bigger, more imposing than I remembered them. And they were playing Scrabble.
‘Bez? No way!’ said Alpha.
‘The second tine of a deer’s horn,’ said Thor, former dux of Coast Grammar.
They didn’t even look up, both sets of eyes on the board.
‘That’s fifty-two and the game, I believe,’ said Thor. ‘Care for another one?’
They still didn’t look up – I cleared my throat.
It half-worked – while Alpha kept interrogating the board, wondering, no doubt, how he’d been beaten by the second tine of a deer’s horn, Thor looked up at me.
His reaction?
Not what I’d expected, which was Nah-ha-ha, our cunning plan has worked. I could see surprise, and perhaps anger, and then even friendliness, like I was an old pal who had just dropped in.
‘Alph, look who’s just dropped in,’ he said.
See, told you!
Alpha looked up at me, but there was definitely a lot more hostility in his face.
‘That second tine of the deer’s horn will get you every time,’ I said.
Even more anger.
‘Alpha?’ prompted Thor.
The two eco-ninjas exchanged looks, and the anger disappeared.
‘Dominic Silvagni, long time no see,’ said Thor, standing up, offering his hand for me to shake.
Now I was totally confused.
‘Aren’t you, like, mad at me?’ I asked.
Again Thor and Alpha exchanged looks.
‘Why don’t you sit down,’ said Thor. ‘Can I get you a drink or something?’
‘Just a water,’ I said.
Thor got me the water, and I sat down, and so did Thor and Alpha and they explained why they weren’t angry with me.
It was all about the planet, you see. Not people and their puny egos.
And my achievement – the decommissioning of Diablo Bay – was a far greater outcome than they had ever hoped for.
In fact, it was a major win in the campaign against nuclear energy.
What they didn’t understand, however, was why I hadn’t included them in my plans, why we couldn’t have all worked together, given that we had the same ideals.
‘I’m a bit of a lone wolf like that,’ I said.
As I sat there, opposite Thor and Alpha, I had a sort of – I’m not sure what you would call it – a revelation.
Maybe we didn’t have exactly the same ideals, but I sure as hell shared more stuff with these crazy eco-ninjas than I did with people who were about Contextualising Actuarial Solutions.
I hadn’t set about to decommission Diablo Bay, but that had been the result, and I couldn’t help but feel pretty chuffed about it.
When The Debt was repaid, maybe we actually could all work together one day. Free some chooks, or something. But in the meantime there were those text messages to deal with.
‘So Dom, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?’ said Alpha.
They’d been straight with me, so I thought I’d repay the favour.
‘I’d appreciate it if you stopped sending me text messages,’ I said.
‘Text messages?’ said Thor, the surprise in his voice surprisingly authentic.
I wasn’t about to be deterred.
‘Yes, text messages,’ I said.
A woman came into the office then, and our conversation was interrupted while Alpha dealt with her.
She wanted information about dolphins kept in captivity.
Alpha gave her some brochures, and told her the name of a couple of websites she could go to for more detail.
After she had gone I said, ‘Is it really that bad for the dolphins?’
‘Dolphins are free-ranging, social and highly intelligent animals with extraordinarily sensitive hearing,’ said Thor. ‘Do you think being stuck in an enclosure and bombarded with techno music is good for them?
Actually, I didn’t think being bombarded with techno music was good for anybody.
‘But the ones in Sealands always look so happy,’ I said.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ said Alpha. ‘They perform because they’re hungry.’
‘Anyway, let’s get back to these text messages,’ said Thor.
I took out my phone, read out the text.
‘No offence, Dom, but that is probably the most appalling pronunciation I have ever heard,’ he said. ‘May I have a look?’
I handed him the phone.
‘Ah, yes. I remember this well, the myth of Lycaon from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. I had to do an assignment on it in Year 12. Let me remember. And thus partly he softened the half-dead limbs in boiling waters, partly he roasted in an open fire.’
I knew it was Thor who had sent the text!
He continued, ‘Chakra couldn’t get enough of Metamorphoses, could he?’ Thor then went into a really good imitation of Dr Chakrabarty’s theatrical way of talking: ‘Ovid shows us that it is only through art that we can be released from the suffering we are born into, only art can change us, transform us, meta-mor-phose us.’
Thor had been very civil so far and I thought there was no reason not to repay the favour.
‘So could I ask you to please stop sending me these messages?’ I said. ‘They’re sort of scary.’
Thor looked taken aback.
‘But I didn’t send this,’ he said.
Was he really that good a liar?
‘Yeah, right,’ I said.
‘I can assure you I didn’t send this.’
Then it occurred to me how I could totally spring him.
I took my phone, went to the number Hanley had found, and hit dial.
The phone on the other end rung, and I smiled.
Soon Thor’s phone would start singing, jumping around in his pocket or wherever he kept it.
Except it didn’t.
The phone kept ringing until it rung out – no message bank, none of that.
Thor shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, Have it your own way, but you’ll find out.
Suddenly there was a noise from outside, the door swung open, and Mandy rolled into the room. When she saw me, her eyes grew wide and angry, and she kept rolling.
I tried to get out of her way, but I wasn’t quick enough; Mandy and her wheelchair smashed into me, knocking me to the ground.
I scrambled to my feet.
Mandy had swung around and was about to launch another attack.
‘Amanda, stop that!’ said Thor, grabbing the back of her wheelchair.
‘Let me at him!’ she yelled, trying to prise his hands free.
‘Just calm down!’ he said.
‘You can be as Gandhi as you like,’ she said. ‘But he put you in jail!’
‘Amanda, we are not important!’ said Thor. ‘Think of Gaia.’
‘Gaia?’ I said.
‘The Earth Goddess,’ said Thor.
The Earth Goddess didn’t seem to work for Mandy, because she came at me again. I managed to get out of her way. Managed to get out of the building.
As I hurried back along the mall, past the Coast Home Loans office I had a thought: according to Hanley the text had been sent from this area.
But if Thor hadn’t sent it, who had?
I rang Hanley’s number and he answered straightaway.
‘How’d you go?’ he said.
‘Pretty good,’ I replied. ‘You know when you said you couldn’t be sure exactly where the text was sent from, what sort of distance are we talking about?’
‘A hundred metres radius,’ he said.
Because I am – or was – a runner, I guess I still had a
better-than-average appreciation as to what it actually felt like to cover a hundred metres.
My estimate was that the distance from the Coast Home Loans office to the Fiends of the Earth office was seventy, eighty metres at the most.
Why Rent When You Can Buy? Loan Approval within the Hour! yelled the sign outside.
I pushed open the door and a woman on the other side of the counter was talking to a couple.
‘So what you’re telling us,’ said the man, ‘is that we don’t need that much of deposit.’
‘Of course not,’ said the woman. ‘We can structure our loans to cater for any income stream.’
In her bright yellow uniform, with her high chirpy voice, she reminded me of a budgie.
I pretended to be interested in a brochure, but I was actually clocking something else: how easy would this place be to bust into?
The answer to that was ‘not easy at all’, especially as I had none of my customary tools with me. No ClamTop, no lock picks.
I’d already noted that the doors were sturdy, the locks high quality and CCTV more than adequate.
I’d also noted something else, a set of keys tossed carelessly – for my purposes, anyway – on the edge of the desk.
Now all I had to do was get them.
I approached the counter.
The couple were pretty much spinning their wheels.
‘So what you’re telling is that we can still get a loan without a huge deposit.’
The budgie gave the same answer as before, but I guess budgies are famous for that, saying the same thing over and over.
‘Excuse me,’ I said, putting on my best Coast Boys Grammar voice. ‘Do you think I could possibly use your toilet?’
‘It’s not that sort of place,’ said Budgie. ‘There’s a public toilet just down the road.’
Just as I’d feared: despite my Coast Grammar accent, she’d pegged me as the sort of kid who leaves more skid marks on the porcelain than a Formula One driver.
I had one more card to play, and it was a doozy, but for obvious reasons I was reluctant to use it.
‘So you’re definitely not looking for some crazy deposit?’ said the man.
Before Budgie could give the same answer yet again I butted in, ‘I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind.’
Yamashita's Gold Page 4