to that. What we are proposing is for Western Australia to
secede, and to be born again as a white republic, before it’s too late. We have the resources to do this. We have the land to sustain us. Those who are unwilling or unwelcome in the
new republic can migrate over East, which is already lost. We would invite displaced whites from elsewhere in the world to join us, much like Zionist Israel has done with Jews. We can build something that is new, but is at the same time very old, harking back to when Europe was Europe, when Europe was
white. We will be rich, we will be proud, we will be strong –’
‘Sounds like a fairytale to me. And in the meantime, you
terrorise Asians who live here, minding their own business, getting on with it.’
‘We don’t condone the attacks, Howard, but at the same
time, we didn’t ask our elected governments to invite Asians here. They weren’t elected to do that. Leaving this aside,
it’s important to state that we aren’t racists. We don’t hate those that are different. On the contrary, we respect their difference, and ask that ours too be respected. We are builders and inventors, not destroyers. Our greatest enemies are not Asians, you see, but the self-hating whites who want to bring about the apocalypse of their own culture, by degree, and al 176
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so that capitalism can grow and grow, so that a few men get rich while the world goes to hel .’
Brad’s lighter flared and for a moment his eyes were bright with a stunned awe. He punched Lee on the shoulder, puffed
on his cigarette, grinning. ‘This is how it starts, young’un. It’s exactly what we’ve planned for. We get a voice, we win a few votes, and then the major parties shit themselves. Then the whole fucken thing moves to the right, while we keep working, from the inside this time. Fucken eh!’
Brad turned off the radio, ducking his eyes to look down a
side street. They were near the port. Lee could smell the sheep piss on the breeze. A golden light settled above the great cranes and container ships beyond the nearest limestone bluff. Brad turned into a street of small office buildings and storage sheds and killed his lights, slowed and checked the numbers written on the kerbs.
*
Lee stood inside the glass door of the building. It was dark but he could see the stray beams of Brad’s torch play against the venetians on the second floor. It was a straight B&E and there weren’t any security cameras, and no audible alarm had sounded. Brad had carried a bag of tools upstairs with him, and said that he’ d be gone a while. They could communicate by walkie-talkie if needed. If a security guard came, Lee had permission to fire a warning shot with the Luger.
There was no escape route except down the same alley
they’ d entered. A high brick wall circled the lot. He could 177
DAVID WHISH-WILSON
hear Brad hacking at gyprock upstairs, and then the whine of a dril . A stray cat walked the fenceline next to Lee, until it saw him and leapt out of view. Brad was banging away now with
what sounded like a rubber mallet. The subdued thuds echoed around the parking lot, trapped by the high wal s.
The sound of Brad’s banging was loud, and Lee shut the
door to keep the noise down. Once he was inside, it seemed
natural to go further. He crept up the stairs and peered into the office where Brad knelt, prying out a floor safe with a crowbar, hammering it with the mallet to get force behind
the lever. Lee stepped back and caught the name on the office door. Dennis Monahan – WA Branch Secretary. Lee looked down the hal – saw the outlaw Eureka flag on a wooden pole, lit by the streetlights outside, the Maritime Union logo on the board behind.
He backtracked down the stairs. Opened the door and
looked into the night. The cat was crouched in the corner
of the lot next to a pile of flattened boxes and loose rubbish, swishing its tail and looking at him hateful y. The sound of rats squealing inside the boxes.
Lee turned at the crashing on the stairs. The fold-up trolley that Brad was using to bring down the safe wasn’t strong
enough; one of its wheels had broken, and Brad was dragging it step by step. Lee propped the door open and went to help.
The stairs were narrow and he let Brad take the higher end.
Lee took the greater weight, walking backwards toward the
door. It wasn’t as heavy as he’ d expected, but was awkward enough. He felt sharp pains in his knees and lower back, the 178
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sinews in his shoulders and neck straining.
They put it down behind the stolen car and Brad opened the
boot. They took up the safe again and swung it and dropped, the old shock absorbers lurching. Lee got in the sedan beside Brad and they cruised out of the lot and into the alley. Down at the harbour, a ship’s horn blew and the noise made the
windows shake. Neither of them spoke. Lee passed Brad a
cigarette, and Brad nodded, peeling off his gloves as he drove, knocking off the cement dust in little clouds that settled on his lap.
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18.
The normal course of events after a job was Brad asking Lee to head back to his Nol amara house to wind down with booze
and goey. Lee’s mind was always on hitting Frankie’s bed and putting some peacefulness up his arm.
‘Yeah, I’ll come along with you.’
Brad looked surprised, and then wary.
‘Always wondered about safes, and how to get into ’em.’
That made sense to Brad. After al , he’ d been mentoring Lee toward a career in armed robbery – said that he had the nerve and the smarts. Not something that went together too often
with crims.
‘Good boy. We’ll get it out of the way and then party.
No torturin slopes again, I promise. I’ll admit that was my mistake, got carried away.’
Lee wasn’t listening. The truth was, he wanted to know what was inside the safe. Brad knew, but he wasn’t telling.
Brad drove the sedan over the Fremantle Bridge and headed
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south past the cemetery, turning into an industrial area of darkened factories, mechanics’ workshops and vacant lots
whose sandy wastes were populated by stands of wild fennel.
The moon was swollen and close, laying pale angles and deep shadows over the headstones in the cemetery.
Brad pulled into the limestone driveway of a wreckers’ yard.
He passed Lee a keychain and nodded to the iron gate. Lee
climbed into the cooling air and found the key and put it into the padlock. He followed Brad through the car graveyard, an acre of car bodies and engines on jarrah blocks, pulling into the open bay of a cement shed where forklifts and dozers slept in the darkness.
*
It was a good safe. Inside the shed lit with banks of bright fluorescent rods they worked on the safe with steel-cutting oxyacetylene, wearing the visors and asbestos-fibre gloves, but barely troubled the safe’s annealed sides or titanium door.
It was Lee’s idea to get the dozer on the job. He drove
the dozer over to the safe and, at regular signals from
Brad, dropped the one-tonne blade onto the side of the
safe. There was just enough height over the safe to get some gravity working, and the sound was deafening in the confined concrete space.
Five smashes, and Brad shook his head. Lee got out of the
cab and looked at the concrete floor underneath the safe,
which was beginning to spider-crack.
‘I’ve got some C-4 at home.’
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Lee shook his head. ‘Don’t reckon that’ll work any better. I’l keep trying.’
Two more smashes with the blade and Brad put up a hand.
‘I heard something. Them rods might’ve bro
ke.’
Another smash and even Lee heard the rattle. He reversed
the dozer back into its bay and walked to the safe. Brad was working the crowbar inside the fractured doorjamb. He pulled the tool and spat on the floor. ‘Get one of them forklifts. Put the safe into the dozer tray and let’s see if we can’t force the issue.’
Lee did as he was told. He picked up the safe with the twin forks and carried it over to the dozer blade, and placed it on its side. He narrowed the forks and pushed the safe hard against the immovable steel wal . Reversed and slammed forward.
Did it again and again until he heard the rods break and then the lock and Brad put up his hand.
Brad drew out the sheaves of papers and manila folders, a
Filofax and a cigar-box filled with mini-cassette tapes. Some maps and a couple of glue-bound documents. A handgun in a
black canvas holster. A box of ammo.
Brad ran his hands around the safe’s insides until he was
sure it was empty. ‘Just leave all the broken stuff here. This is one of Kinslow’s businesses.’
He flicked through a couple of the folders. Glossy colour
photographs and grainy black and whites. Faces and naked
bodies. ‘Oh, this is fucken grouse.’
Brad surprised Lee by passing him the folder. ‘Monahan,
and every branch secretary like him, or corporate CEO with
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any brains, use politics to get what they want, and when that fails, they use a private investigator.’
‘Is this …?’
Lee could hardly believe it.
‘Yeah, it’s the Premier, back before he was the Premier.
Others helped put him there, in the big seat, but they can
just as easy take it away. How it works, kid. And now we got this stuff – dirt going back generations – we can make it work for us. This cache is the stuff of rumours. I’ve heard there’s judges, pollies, rich bastards left, right and centre. So far, the big wheels of this town, they ain’t scared of us. They got the power to crush us with their blue uniformed stooges. But
these bastards only care about their reputations, their snouts in the trough. This shit is better than a thousand armed men.’
The Premier’s face stared up at Lee, his eyes blurry with
desire, the milky light over his head enough to cast into sharp relief the object of his attention, her breasts and bel y and wet black triangle, her eyes looking directly at the camera.
Lee flicked through the folder. Other faces he recognised.
Transcripts of conversations referenced to tape recordings.
And this just one of the folders.
‘This is incredible. How’ d you know where to look?’
Brad glanced up and smiled, saw behind the question, but
for whatever reason decided to play. ‘Some MUA mutt got
arrested for GBH, fell out with the leadership. He was looking at losing his job as a crane driver, so he called Kinslow, an old employer of his. We got him the best legal representation and he got off. Let’s roll out, young fel a. I got to drop these 183
DAVID WHISH-WILSON
somewhere and we can call it a night.’
Brad’s smile genuine, but his eyes giving him away, watching to see if Lee would take anything. Lee closed the folder and handed it back, Brad nodding. ‘Good man. You don’t want
to be in possession of this stuff. Not unless you want a slow, painful death.’
They walked to the car, laden with the files and boxes. The moon was high, the car bodies massed in every direction.
*
To get to the rented garage in the brick-paved lane they had to drive past the depot. Dawn was coming, a rim of purple light over the range that rose above the city like a great dark wave, poised eternal y.
Osborne Park was quiet except for the occasional security
vehicle doing the rounds of the warehouses and factories
surrounding the lake. The depot was locked and dark, the
towing rigs parked against a brick wal . Because there was an informer in the APM ranks, Lee assumed that there was no
need for the coppers to maintain an overnight surveil ance of the depot, but there was the regulation Falcon sedan, parked across the street beside a stand of paperbark. Except that the nearest streetlight il uminated the face of the man in the car, head tilted back and eyes closed.
Lee didn’t say anything, but he must’ve flinched, or given
some other sign, because Brad sped up and drove past the
garage alley. ‘What is it?’
‘That wasn’t a copper. I know him. He’s a Knights prospect.
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Name of Danny Hislop.’
‘Alright then. He see you?’
‘He was dozing. I think.’
Brad turned to circle the block. They were out of sight of
the Falcon, but he was making sure. ‘If he’s a Knight, not a copper, then he won’t be alone. Unless he thinks he can take you himself.’
‘He doesn’t think that.’
‘We can’t drive past again. It’s too obvious.’
Brad pulled over, scanned the lake for early morning
joggers or dog walkers. ‘When was the last time you spoke to Kinslow? Here, I mean.’
‘This afternoon. I came and filled up, and we had a cigarette and a chat. He told me to stay away.’
‘You see anyone then?’
‘No.’
Brad started the car and they circled round and drove into
the brick-paved alley, parked in front of garage number seven.
‘Wait here.’
Brad unlocked a roller door and scrolled it up, revealing a dark empty room, a single electrical cable threaded around
jarrah joists, a naked bulb. A giant safe stood against the far wal . Brad popped the boot and carried in the boxes of
files. Knelt and worked the combination, opened the safe and stowed the files away, closed the safe door and spun the lock.
Brad got back in the car, lit a cigarette, mulled it over.
‘If there’s one, and they want to take you, there’ll be more.’
‘Yeah, there wil .’
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‘Better we deal with it here, than elsewhere.’
Brad reached under the driver’s seat and drew out a tyre
iron. ‘Normal y, I have my katana, but not tonight. This’l
work. You know these guys. This is your operation. What
degree of force?’
Lee thought about what he could say, should say. Hislop
would want to kill him, but the others would want to hold
him, until the court case.
‘Frighteners,’ Lee answered.
‘Wrong call.’
‘We don’t have the numbers to drag them away somewhere
else.’
Brad didn’t like it. He drew hard on his cigarette, flicked it out the window. ‘We could draw them away, to somewhere quiet.’
‘Numbers.’
Brad nodded. ‘So we leave them out here, holding their
dicks. But I’ll need to get my orders. I don’t like this at al .
With the election coming, these yokels could fuck it all up.
Let’s head.’
Brad drove through the alley and turned toward the lake.
Hislop was still dozing, his chin tilted back, stubble on his jawline. Even so, Lee ducked as they passed, Brad caressing the tyre iron. ‘Lucky man, Sleeping Beauty. You’re a lucky, lucky, man.’
Lee started to rise and Brad held him down. ‘There’s the rest of ’em.’
Brad took his hand off Lee’s shoulder, who looked in the
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wing mirror at the black Ford van, windows painted over,
parked in the shadows near the lake.
were friends. Thinking, the enemy of my enemy …
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19.
Two days before Jack Southern’s court appearance, the details of the trial went front-page news. Three journos on the byline was a signal, according to Frankie, that the journalists were scared of repercussions. Lee read the article in the backyard, smoking and drinking coffee, a family of magpies carolling in the marri branches, the afternoon soft and vivid. Frankie was inside doing her washing, getting ready for her shift.
Lee had been following her the past week. He was shooting
up four or five times a day now, and that was just to stay
square. With his father due to be released, he didn’t want to be caught out. Frankie had a fresh gram every morning when she returned from work. The early hour made him assume that
she picked up the gram on her way to work, rather than after her shift. He wanted to find her dealer, and make his own deal.
He’ d been ordered to stay indoors, to avoid running into the small group of Knights who were looking for him, staking out the depot and the courthouse. He obeyed for a few days, lying 188
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in his bed, on the gear and thinking about his father up there in Vietnam. Had he experienced a reality that nobody was
willing to consider, as he described it? Or was Jack Southern so damaged that he didn’t know the difference between what
was real, and what was in his head?
Lee didn’t know, and he quit the house and began working
the highways during the day, saving his money. He was getting between five and ten tows a day, paid in cash. When his father was released they’ d have to run wide and far. Several of the Knights were long-haul truckies that visited every part of the state, and there’ d be nowhere safe to hide.
In the meantime, he was also saving so that he could buy
Emma a car. She had half the money she needed, and he
aimed to surprise her and pitch in the other half, as a goodbye present. She wanted an old Beetle, and he’ d been keeping an eye on the auctions and the car yards he passed every day,
and the second-hand adverts in the Thursday paper. He’ d
even gone and looked at a couple. Found one ’78 model with
a custom green paint job and leather upholstery; however, its engine knocked and its exhaust was black. One glare at the
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