by Allen Lyne
"Maybe they do.” Jones P. senior was trying to ameliorate the situation without seeming to do that. “But there are some very good people involved here and...."
"...Good people be buggered.” The Police Commissioner's face was suffused with blood, which sat oddly with his grey look. “These people are fanatics and must be treated like fanatics. They were armed. They had jerry cans of petrol. What do you think that was for? They were going to ambush Goodfellow and his followers, murder them and burn the bodies on the houseboat. This is a case of attempted mass murder. Nothing less."
"It is nothing of the sort.” Jones P. senior managed a laugh. “Attempted mass murder my arse. They were going to threaten Goodfellow and his mob and burn the houseboat to make them homeless—take away their base. That was the intention of the lawyers. There is no other explanation possible."
The Police Commissioner was unimpressed. “And that explains why most of the detectives in the flying squad have injuries to the head and body, does it?"
"The lawyers present responded as they did because your splaw-footed detectives charged the boat and crashed through the door. The lawyers were defending themselves. They felt threatened by a show of force, and they didn't know it was the police. What else could they do?"
There was silence for a moment or two as people considered their positions. Then the premier spoke. “Jones P. senior, I want you to go to whoever is in charge of the Lawyers For Christ thing and tell them to disband forthwith. There is to be no further violence towards Goodfellow or anyone else for any reason whatever. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Mister Premier.” Jones P. could see the advantage to playing humble. He reckoned the premier was coming ‘round to his side.
The premier considered a list of names before him on his desk. “Extraordinary. Most of the people involved in this fight on the houseboat come from the best families in town. Every one of them has been to a decent private school and has a university background. What were they thinking to take the law into their own hands?"
"Exactly,” muttered the Police Commissioner greyly from under his hat. “What sort of society will we have if people who are supposed to be part of the framework of law and order go off the rails in this way? Make an example of them, Mister Premier."
There is more at stake than the innocence or guilt of a few lawyers here, thought the premier. If I throw the book at the scions of the most influential families in town, where then my election chances? How much will my party lose in donations to the election fund? How much support will I personally lose from such an action? He made up his mind and spoke unequivocally.
"Here's what we will do. Commissioner, I want you to go easy on most of the people who were involved in this. The passions of youth and all that. Whatever else, these are high-minded young men of strong convictions and lofty ideals.” He raised his hand, “Don't interrupt, commissioner. The bloke with the shotgun, Jonas wasn't it? Charge him with firearms offences and the two who had concealed handguns. The rest, charge them with minor offences concerned with the brawl but no hint of attempted murder or anything like that. Jones P. is correct. There is no evidence to support such a case. I will interview each of the people responsible, and I will make clear my displeasure and that of the government and of the people of this state. This is a peaceful place, or has been up to date, and I want it to continue to be peaceful. I shall make it clear to each individual that there are sanctions outside those imposed by the courts for actions of the kind they have been involved in. Access to silk, for example. Political careers they may have been contemplating may not now be available to them. I'm sure I can sway the opposition to that line of thought and bar them whichever party they might choose to try to represent. I shall also make it clear that one more offence of any kind and I shall move to have them disbarred as disreputable people unfit to practice law. That is as far as I will go in this matter. I hope everyone is satisfied with the outcome. If it weren't for this damned Goodfellow idiot and the morons who support him none of this would have happened. The man is a fanatic."
Big Jim turned from the window, where he had been standing with his back to proceedings listening to the exchanges between the others and to the premier's summing up. He was far from happy with the outcome, but knew from long experience from the premier's tone that he would not budge from the position he had arrived at. Big Jim studied patterns of speech in every individual he knew and could tell when further argument with any person became a waste of time. “It seems to me that Goodfellow may well be a fanatic, but it also seems that there is a degree of fanaticism present on both sides. Let Goodfellow have his head for his attempt to walk on water. When he fails, we can move with public pronouncements from you and the opposition leader and headlines and editorials in both newspapers to cool everything down and get this state back to normal."
"Big Jim's right,” agreed Joanna Knight. “This is what we should have done in the first place. Take the heat out of the whole situation by letting him try walking on water. Don't interfere with his attempt. If we do need to press charges over what happened in the mall or anywhere else, the commissioner's boys and girls can easily arrest the lot of them after the walking on water bit."
The premier rubbed a hand across his face, “Alright then, if Goodfellow fails he'll be a laughingstock. We'll just let him and his crew fade away. I want you to note this Mr. Commissioner, no further action will be taken after Goodfellow fails with his walk on water."
The commissioner reddened. He wasn't happy about this at all. Some of his best detectives were out of action, and it was mainly down to the actions of one man. Less than eight weeks to retirement, he thought, while aloud he agreed that he would do as the premier ordered.
Big Jim left a message on Marcie's message bank outlining the results of the meeting and asking her to contact him.
Chapter 26
The Pub
GOODFELLOW TO ATTEMPT WALK ON WATER:
screamed the headline in the Bugle. WATER WALK SOON:
roared the headline in the Courier. As promised in the meeting with the premier, both papers played up the freedom of speech issue. Both asked the populace at large to give Goodfellow and his disciples their heads and see how soon they rolled. The papers called for calm and an end to the violence that had been engendered by Jonathan's evangelism.
Television and radio were less complimentary but went along with the general tenor of what the newspapers said. The same people owned them. Talkback radio and letters to the editor were split into extremely divided camps. Some people considered that the whole thing ought to be stopped and the cranks gaoled. Others thought the media were right and that Jonathan and company should be allowed to do as they pleased. Apart from two people who wrote to the editor at the Courier and a few who got on talkback, nobody really thought Jonathan would achieve his aim.
While the general trend in the media was to debunk the whole idea of Goodfellow being God's messenger, every newspaper, radio and television station and every magazine in the country spent time and money trying to contact Marcie to arrange an exclusive interview before the event. Six-figure sums were mentioned. Appeals were made in the various media for Marcie to make contact so that things could be arranged. Marcie's cell phone message bank was jammed full of calls with appeals for contact. She responded to none of these but did lodge stories with her own paper. Big Jim generously gave these stories to the Courier for equal distribution in what Jim called ‘The Public Interest'.
The Police Commissioner gave Marcie an amnesty to meet with him clandestinely at a Murray Bridge hotel just after opening time so that they could work out details for the big day of water walking.
Sampson drove the van past the hotel several times checking that there were no police cars in evidence. Jones P. junior casually sauntered into the pub. He checked the lie of the land and sauntered out again.
"The Police Commissioner is sitting at a small table by the window drinking coffee and there's nobody else in the lounge,�
� he reported.
Scarface was worried anyway. “Just remember boss,” he told Jonathan as he and Marcie left the van. “Any trouble you call loud and clear and we'll come runnin'."
"There won't be any trouble.” Marcie followed Jonathan out of the side door of the van. “The commissioner's a man of his word."
"A straight cop?” Big Bottom sneered. “I'd like to see that."
As Jonathan and Marcie walked towards the hotel, three large buses pulled up and each disgorged a mob of poker machine playing pensioners. They swarmed out of the buses and elbowed each other out of the way in their desperation to be the first to the machines.
The hotel owner had been about to quit the hotel business a few years before. Much to his surprise he had become a multi-millionaire in the space of a few years. This sudden inflation of wealth took place after the introduction of Poker machines, or POKIES, as the garish sign over the hotel called them. He stood in the doorway with a smile fixed on his face as he welcomed these suckers who were delivered to his door every second Tuesday. If they don't lose it here, they'll lose it at the casino or somewhere else, he reasoned correctly.
Marcie and Jonathan entered and moved through the poker machine lounge which was already peopled by pensioners, slack jawed and blank eyed, feeding coins into machines that flashed pretty lights and made soothing sounds at them.
The commissioner stood with old-world courtesy as they approached the table by the window. The raucous sound of pinging and electronic music made their introductions almost inaudible. They moved to a table as far away from the noise as possible. The commissioner pulled out Marcie's chair for her and they all sat. There followed a moment or two of embarrassed silence as they all looked at each other, each person unsure of how to start the ball rolling.
The commissioner greyly picked up his cup. “Well, here we all are then. You're the people who have caused all this trouble, eh?"
"What trouble have we caused?” shot back Marcie. “It's other people who are causing the problems."
"We'll leave that aside and move on to the purpose of this meeting. I am instructed by the premier himself to offer you the chance to pull your walking on water stunt without hindrance from us. Personally I would have arrested you all immediately if I'd had my way. How did you know we were coming to the houseboat anyway?"
Marcie smiled back at him. “Let's just say a little birdie told me."
The commissioner sat back in his chair and returned her smile, except that his cold and watchful grey eyes belied the curve of his lips. He suspected Big Jim was responsible for the tip off and made a mental note to advise the premier of his suspicions. He took a sip from his cup of coffee and glanced out the window at the luxury paddle steamer that sat at the wharf opposite the hotel. Passengers were embarking for a river cruise. The commissioner made a mental note that this was one of the first things he would do with his wife after his retirement in eight weeks time. He turned to Jonathan. “You interest me, Goodfellow. What drives someone like you?"
"Drives? I don't understand what you mean."
"What do you hope to gain? Where's the sting? So far I see no evidence of extortion or attempt to defraud through your actions, but my experience tells me it's coming. What's the pitch?"
"No, no, you don't understand. I really am on a mission from God to save the world from itself."
The commissioner shook his head wearily and retreated once more to his coffee. Could this bloke be on the level? Really believe in what he is trying to do?
"You say the premier himself has instructed you to let us have our walk on water without hindrance?” Marcie's green eyes bored into the commissioner's grey persona.
The commissioner put down his cup, opened his briefcase and extracted two copies of a document he had drawn up before he came to this meeting. “Take a look at this. If you agree with all the points in the document sign each of them and retain one."
Marcie and Jonathan both read the document and signed each copy. The Police Commissioner countersigned them. He put one copy back in his briefcase and handed Marcie the other.
Marcie released the resolutions contained in the document to the media the same day they were drawn up. It read:
1 The walk on water will take place in the Murray River at a point next to the derelict houseboat on August 31.
2 All media and the general public are invited to attend.
3 The police will attend in force to maintain order but will not arrest anyone from Jonathan Goodfellow's party.
4 If Jonathan Goodfellow fails to walk upon the water, then he and his disciples will cease all evangelism and will undertake no further religious or political activity.
5 In the event of 4 above taking place, Jonathan Goodfellow and his disciples will be free to go and charges for past misdemeanours will be dropped.
The Police Commissioner assured Marcie that if Jonathan succeeded in his quest to walk on top of the water, the commissioner himself would return to the church he had all but abandoned thirty years before.
"You're the bloke from the mall, ain't ya.” A group of pensioners had managed to break away from the hypnotic machines that were assuring a poverty-stricken old age for them all. They now peered closely at Jonathan.
"And she's that newspaper sheila that's helping him.” The second man was more excited than the first.
"You're Jesus Christ come back to Earth again, ain't ya,” continued the first man. “Hey, I'm feeling a bit peckish. How's about doing the loaves and fishes? We could do with a feed."
The pensioners roared with laughter.
"No, you've got it wrong. I'm not Jesus and I can't do miracles."
"You're going to walk on water ain't ya. That's a miracle ain't it? Why can't you do the loaves and fishes?"
"God has allowed me to walk on water for the specific reason of curing sceptics like you. He hasn't given me the power to do the loaves and fishes yet."
"Why don't you ask him then?"
"No, his rabbits talk to God, not him."
The pensioners all roared with laughter again.
Marcie was furious. “If you want proof, then all come to the river bank near the old house boat between Murray Bridge and Mannum at one o'clock on the 31st of August, and you'll soon see what's true and what's not."
"Oh yeah? You're going to walk on water too, eh?"
The mood of the pensioners was turning ugly and more had drifted over from their machines. Any excitement was welcome in their lives, although it had to be good to get them away from the flashing lights, beeping noises, soothing music and the exciting rattle of coins in the coin trays.
"I'll ask you all to back off and leave them alone.” The commissioner stood and moved between the pensioners and Jonathan and Marcie.
"Why, who are you? God?” chuckled another pensioner, causing them all to break into laughter yet again.
The manager approached. He had been observing them for some time and realised from newspaper photographs who Jonathan and Marcie were. He wanted nothing to get in the way of his profits from the poker machines. “I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, unless you plan to buy a drink instead of drinking my free coffee. This isn't a public meeting place."
"This is the mug what got us punched up in the mall,” said the beefy man with the ruddy countenance who liked an occasional knuckle. “We ought to do him over for that."
Jonathan paled as the beefy man glared at him.
"There will be no rough stuff in my hotel or I'll bar the lot of you.” The manager was now shoulder to shoulder with the commissioner.
The beefy man who liked a punch up occasionally glared at him, “He's a nutter. He deserves to be punched out."
"Yes,” agreed a little old lady. “He got all those nice lawyers in trouble in the mall and again at that houseboat."
"The lawyers were the problem, not us,” Marcie snapped back.
"If you hadn't been there, neither would they,” reasoned the old lady.
"Oh, and I suppos
e they had to follow us to the houseboat armed to the teeth just because we were there, did they?” Marcie was reaching boiling point.
"They're good Christian boys and girls, and they deserve a medal for trying to stop you,” said a middle aged woman who went to church often on Sundays.
"Please, please.” Jonathan held up his hands. “Just give me a chance to prove that what I say is true."
The mood was becoming ugly and the barman and the woman who gave the change for the machines joined them. But the manager knew he was outgunned if all of these pensioners started a riot over these crazies in the pub. He cursed the fact that he had no security staff in place this time in the morning. Bouncers were expensive. It was bad enough having fights and violence in the hotel to be dealt with most nights without it spilling over into mornings as well. He tried a different tack. “Let's all calm down a bit here. I'll move these nutters on, and you lot go back to your machines and enjoy yourselves. You don't want to spoil your day just because some religious nuts come into the pub. Go on, all of you. Next drink's on me for the entire busloads. Off you go."
The pensioners stampeded for the bar, and the barman and the woman who gave change went back to their rightful places.
The manager paled as he realised his mistake. “Beer, house wine and softies only,” he shouted, but his voice was lost in the babble of pensioners ordering scotch and brandy. That'll cost me, he thought. Aloud he once again asked the three of them to move on.
"Oh, we're going alright.” Marcie stood and they all moved toward the door. “Stick your lousy pub where it belongs."
"Charming."
Several of the pensioners, clutching free drinks, joined them and escorted them to the door yelling insults at them. Three very large men, one medium-sized man and one very small one, who had been alerted to the trouble by observing what was happening through the window, met them at the door.
Scarface, Big Bottom, Sampson, Jones P. junior and the dwarf wedged themselves between the pensioners and their friends.