Animal Kingdom (20 page)

And that was the point.

He'd chosen.

He'd chosen crime over normal life, and that was a fact that had to be recognised.

What had happened wasn't Leckie's fault. If he had a fault, it was what his wife said: that he trusted too many people. But that was the way he was.

‘I just want you to know I don't bear you any ill will, Mr Leckie,' Smurf said when she bumped into him a few days later in the supermarket. Leckie looked up and saw her smiling at him as she continued, ‘I really don't. You were just doing your job.'

He felt like he'd been king hit from behind.

‘If you're as smart as I think you are,' he said, straightening, ‘you'll know to walk right on by me like we've never seen each other before in our lives. And you'll know to feel lucky.'

She smiled at him, that bright innocuous smile of hers, glad to see how awful he looked.

‘You'll come unstuck,' Leckie continued. ‘I've got a feeling about it. I think you do, too.'

Was he trying to threaten her? she wondered. Was he saying,
Just remember what happened to Baz and Craig
? No, he wasn't, because he didn't have the balls.

‘I reckon you probably carry that feeling around with you every second of the day,' he finished.

She knew what he was trying to do: he was trying to rattle her and make himself feel better. She wasn't going to let him.

‘But I don't, Nathan,' she chirped, because she could see through him; she knew the sort of man he was and that the world belonged to her, not him.

What happened next, of course, was great fun. The TV interviews at home, sitting on the sofa flanked by her sons and surrounded by flowers, the media attention, the public calls for a parliamentary enquiry.

Returning to work, Leckie found himself shuffling paper in a desk job.

Smurf then made it her personal mission to discredit him. It was people like him who gave policing a bad name. Pursuing as he was a personal vendetta against her family, and, all right, they weren't angels, but they certainly weren't the hardened criminals Leckie had made them out to be. No-one had ever actually
apologised
to them for all their trouble, but the pressure was definitely off. Smurf became a bit of a media favourite when it came to commenting on police corruption, and somebody even approached them about turning their story into a television show.

‘Hey, Grandma.'

Smurf was startled to see J standing on the doorstep, as large as life. Quickly recovering her composure, she answered, ‘I was wondering when I'd be seeing you again. Been missing you. You okay?'

J had learned how to lie, too. It had been a long journey, but it had brought him here.

‘Yeah. I'm okay,' he said. ‘Um … is it okay if I move back in? I don't really know where else to go.'

‘Course,' she said, as if he didn't even need to ask. ‘You want food? You look Biafran.' He didn't, but that was the sort of joke Smurf made when she was nervous.

‘No thanks,' J said. ‘I think I want to go lie down for a bit.'

‘You don't wanna eat?' she tempted. ‘Pope's cooking.'

That was tempting.

‘OK, sweetie, your room's still there. Say hello to the boys.'

Well, that sorted that out. She was genuinely happy that he was back; it made it all nicer, somehow. Family meant a lot to Smurf—it always had.

‘I've missed you,' she finished, giving him a big wet one on the lips to make him feel right at home.

Stepping onto the back patio, J startled the boys almost as much as he had Smurf.

‘Hey, mate,' Pope said, looking up from the barbie and wondering what the hell he was doing there. ‘You hungry?'

‘No, I just came out to say hi,' J said.

Well how about that?
Pope thought.
The prodigal returns.

‘All right, mate,' Pope said, winking at Darren.

J lay on the bed and waited for Pope to come in. He knew he would. He knew there were things to say, so when Pope appeared he wasn't in the least surprised.

This was it: the end.

J knew only one of them was going to leave the room.

Sitting down on the bed, Pope chuckled, ‘Wow, what to say?'

Pope felt that he had an obligation to explain it to J, so that he understood what had really gone on and that everything would be all right again between them. Understood his role in the amazing series of events they'd just been part of.

But there was so much. How they had pulled the wool over the coppers' eyes; how they'd avenged Baz's death and let the fuzz know they couldn't fuck with the hard boys. Pope wanted to tell him how he'd had the two coppers on their knees, pleading for their lives, pleading like the cry babies they were, and how sweet it had been to hear their last words. He wanted to explain to J how it was a war—and it
was
a war—but not just a war with the coppers: a war with the rich pricks running this world who thought people like them were scum, to let them know they weren't going to take it any more and that they were on the move.
We're coming for you
, he wanted to say.
We're coming for you, and we're going to get you.

But there was so much to say, and somehow it was too much, so all he did say was, ‘It's a crazy fucking world.'

But if he'd been watching, he would have seen J pull the gun out from under him and raise it to blow a hole through his brain.

But he didn't. He never saw it coming. He didn't even hear the gun go off.

Stepping out of the bedroom, J could see Smurf and Darren standing stunned, like they didn't quite know what had happened.

But they did.

Pope was gone.

Whatever he had meant to them, he was no more, and they would need to re-create whatever it was he had created for them. The fear, the power, the sense of their own specialness. Because for just this moment, it was gone, and they stood like ghosts in front of J.

Stepping up to his grandmother, J took her into his arms. Not because he trusted her, but because she was his grandmother and for just one moment he wanted her to know what it feels like to have someone who really loves you touch you. Before she fell back into the darkness that was her real home.

J didn't know what would happen now, but no-one ever does. That's what it's like down here.

No-one's there to protect you—not the police and not your family—it's just you, and them, and the world doesn't care who survives. That's the way it was, and that's the way it had been for as long as he could remember.

But J was strong now, and ready for it. And he could feel it moving towards him fast.

My first acknowledgment has to be to David Michôd, whose wonderful film and beautiful script formed the basis of this novel, but after him there are the many people of Melbourne University Publishing, notably my editor, Elisa Berg, whose detailed, critical work and constant encouragement carried me through what would otherwise have been an extremely difficult process. I would lastly like to thank Louise Adler and her wonderful team for the dedication they all brought to this stupendous project, and to Louise especially for the trust she showed in allowing me to novelise this wonderful story.