Mele Kalikimaka Mr Walker (17 page)

It was quite dark now and Mitzi had her arm in Norton's again as they moved around the other people walking along Kalakau and crossed the road. They weren't quite at the holding hands or stealing kisses stage, but Norton had this feeling Mitzi was warming up to him. Slowly but surely he was gaining her confidence. And you never know — after a few more rum punches or whatever at this nightclub, anything could happen on a balmy night in blue Hawaii. Then Norton's conscience pricked him. Yes. An old friend does you a favour, sends someone around to keep you company and look after you, and what do you do? Think about getting her drunk so that you can get into her pants. In other words, take advantage of a poor, defenceless little woman. Les looked down at Mitzi happily walking along by his side and shook his head. A man's got all the principles of a hyena that's been selling real estate to pay for a course in Law.

They crossed the last street before the hotel, walked through the foyer into the lobby and darted straight into a waiting lift. Les pressed the button for his floor and with Mitzi still on his left they waited for the doors to close. Les couldn't quite believe it when what should come bowling noisily through the lobby and straight
into the same lift but four marines wearing jeans and T-shirts. Two had brown hair, another was blond, and one had black hair and a pencil moustache and looked like he could have been Hispanic. Thinking that they'd followed him, Les immediately tensed up and bunched his fists ready to go into action. However, it appeared they were just a bunch of half-drunk pests looking for someone staying there in one of the rooms. Les and Mitzi watched as the marines garbled amongst themselves about what room whoever it was they were looking for was staying in, till one pushed the button for Floor 18. Then one pushed another button, then another, till among them they pushed every button for every floor, then laughed uproariously thinking it was a huge joke. Great, scowled Les. Now as well as being in here with these imbeciles, I've got to put up with them on every floor till we get to mine. And it'll take a bloody hour. The flips. He looked at Mitzi and shrugged. She looked back up at him and gave a thin, fleeting and understanding smile.

The doors closed, the lift took off and began lurching to a stop at every floor. Generally there'd be a bunch of Japanese tourists waiting there to go down and naturally the marines would pull faces and put shit on the slightly startled Japanese and laugh like drains till the lift took off again. After about three floors of this Les was well and truly sick of them and it was about this time that the half-drunk jarheads noticed him and Mitzi standing behind them.

‘Hey! What's happenin', dude?' a brown-haired one said to Les, demanding more than asking.

Norton shook his head. ‘Not much, mate,' he replied uninterestedly.

Another marine's ears seemed to prick up. ‘Hey! Where are you from, buddy?'

‘New Guinea,' said Les.

‘No he's not,' cut in another marine. ‘He's a goddamn limey.'

‘Whatever,' shrugged Les.

The lift stopped again at another floor and the doors opened to more Japanese tourists waiting to go down. Momentarily the marines left Norton alone to give the Japanese some more lip. Then the doors hissed shut and the lift took off again.

‘Say, dude,' said the first marine, ‘shouldn't your little slopehead gal be out there with her kinfolk lookin' in?' The others guffawed while Norton began to seethe.

‘Say, buddy,' said the one with the moustache, ‘how much does a piece of slope ass like that cost these days? A carton of Luckies and a Zippo?'

The others roared at this remark. Mitzi didn't appear to see the funny side, however, and by now Norton was ropable. Enough was enough.

‘Hey, you know what we are, buddy?' asked the other brown-haired marine, staring at Norton glaring back at him. He jabbed a thumb into Norton's chest. ‘We're members of the United States Marine Corps.'

‘You don't bloody say,' Les replied slowly and deliberately.

‘Damn right we are,'said another. He stared at Norton. ‘And what are you a member of, buddy?'

‘What am I a member of?' replied Les.

All four marines stared at him as the lift stopped at an empty floor then started up again. ‘Yeah?'

‘I'm a member of the Outback Club.'

‘The Outback Club?'

‘Yeah. We don't back down, and we don't give up. And right now, you bunch of shit-for-brains, I ain't livin' in the land I love.' Sorry about this, Mitzi, thought Les, looking at the accountant standing quietly in the corner. But here it comes. The ugly Australian.

Les dipped at the knee and slammed a left-hook into one brown-haired marine's face, which pulverised his nose, mashed his top lip, along with his front teeth, and put him straight out of the fight with blood pouring down his face. Les threw a short right at the one in the corner near the door, but the one going down fell against him and the punch skidded off the marine's forehead, only stunning him. Then it was on. The other two started into Norton with their fists and knees, along with the other one doing his best as well, and Norton giving plenty back in the way of uppercuts, knees and headbutts. The lift stopped at another floor and this time, instead of getting a gobful of cheek, the Japanese tourists almost shit themselves as the doors opened on this whirlwind of cursing, snarling men, angrily trying to kick and punch the stuffing out of each other. They jumped back like startled hens, clucking and squawking around the lobby, wondering just what the fuck was going on. Les slammed his elbow into one marine's face then kneed another in the groin as the doors closed again. In the confines of the lift it was all one great mess and by keeping his head down and his chin in Les wasn't copping all that much damage, mainly thumps around the back and kidneys. The doors opened and closed on another floor of horrified Japanese as Norton smashed and cursed his way from one side of the lift
to the other, managing to catch the second marine he'd punched with a nice short left that mangled his lips and splashed blood over a glass-covered poster ad for the Carvery, just before a fist slammed into it splintering the glass. Despite the odds, Norton was beginning to get into the swing of things and felt he was starting to get the upper hand, when the marine with the moustache got behind him, levered his arm under Norton's chin and put a choker hold on him just as the one on Norton's right kneed him in the ribs. Uh-oh, gulped Les, as he felt his air being choked off, I'd better get my finger out or I'm in trouble. But it was hard enough fighting the two in front without piggy-backing another while you were slowly being strangled.

Les fired out some more punches, elbows and knees and tried to jam his thumb in the eyes of the marine choking him. But it was starting to get tough going and already Les could feel his strength beginning to ebb. He tried to get his hands to the fingers round his throat, hoping he might be able to break a couple, but the marine had his hands clamped tight. Norton's vision was starting to blur. He was about to crouch down, then try to come up in one big, last burst, hoping to shake his assailant off, when for some reason he thought of Mitzi again. In all the confusion he'd almost forgotten about her and her safety; probably because normally a woman trapped in a lift with five brawling men would start screaming. But Mitzi hadn't so far made a sound. Bent slightly forward, Les peeped out and up over the elbow around this throat and saw Mitzi still in the corner, going through her handbag. Christ! I hope she's not looking for her fuckin' make-up, cursed Norton. Another
typical bloody woman, Korean or whatever. However, instead of producing a tube of lipstick, Mitzi pulled out a set of brass knuckles, which she slid onto her right fist. She drew back her shoulder and fired out a big straight right. Norton saw her arm go past his head and, although he didn't see it, he heard the beautiful, satisfying thump of crunching teeth, lips and bone, along with the marine's curse of pain. The grip around Norton's neck loosened, Mitzi drew back her arm and gave the marine another one, then he let go completely.

With a great ‘whoosh' Norton sucked in a huge lungful of air and immediately his strength returned. Full of rage and only having to fight two blokes now, Les tore into the pair of marines with all guns firing. It was a slaughter. To make things worse, after almost decapitating the marine who'd been choking Les, Mitzi now slipped the knuckle duster onto her left hand and joined in the fray, filling what area of the lift Norton had left out with horrible, bone-crunching left hooks that drew blood every time they landed. Now, when the lift doors opened, the Japanese tourists not only saw a big redheaded bloke punching into some other men, but a woman in there going for it as well. And she wasn't bad either. Mitzi landed a left hook on one marine's forehead that almost tore his eyebrow off, then as he sank Norton hit him with a left uppercut that jolted him straight out the lift doors into a bunch of startled Japanese who happened to be standing there at the time. Les and Mitzi made a pretty good team. In no time every wall of the lift was splattered with blood and none of it was Norton's or Andrea Hayden's accountant's. And the only time either of them stopped throwing
punches was when the lift stopped and they'd fling some unconscious marine out the doors, whether there was anybody standing there or not. By the time they got to the fifteenth floor the lift was empty and all four marines were lying broken, battered and bleeding where they landed on the various floors below them. The lift stopped again, the doors slid open and Les and Mitzi stepped out, with Les waiting behind, ladies first like a true gentleman.

‘Sorry about that, Mitzi,' he said, as the doors closed behind them and they began walking towards his room. ‘But there's just some things I can't bloody cop. And you shouldn't have to either. Not from mugs like that anyway.'

‘That's quite all right, Les,' replied Mitzi, a little seriously. ‘You defended my honour. I was proud of you and felt obliged to help as best I could.'

‘As best you could?' Les rubbed his throat. ‘Christ! You sure saved my bloody bacon. Thanks, old mate.'

‘A pleasure — old mate.'

‘Where did you get that bloody thing anyway?'

‘This?' Mitzi wiped some blood off the knuckle duster then dropped it back in her handbag and smiled at Les. ‘We accountants always carry a pocket calculator with us. You never know what intricate calculations we might have to make at times. Especially in my racket.'

Norton shook his head. ‘Christ! Who said accountants were boring?'

‘Anyway, that was nothing, Les. You haven't seen a real streetfight unless you've been in a student demonstration back in Seoul. They make that look like a lesson in hula dancing.'

‘I'll take your word for it,' replied Les, fumbling in his blood-spattered shorts for the key.

Les closed the door behind them, switched on the lights in the bedroom and checked himself out in the mirror. His new T-shirt was just about torn off his back and what wasn't ripped was splashed with blood, along with his shorts and face. Mitzi didn't have a mark or a scratch on her except spatters of blood along her arms and in her hair. Poor defenceless bloody woman, reflected Les. Good thing I didn't get any smartarse ideas on the night. I'd look pretty funny trying to eat corn on the cob with no front fuckin' teeth. One thing for sure, something a little stronger than a purple people eater was in order right now. He asked Mitzi if she felt like something. She said yes, so Les went to the bathroom and got two Bacardis and Grape Crush together.

‘There you go, Mitzi,' he said, handing her a drink. ‘And thanks again for saving my neck.'

Mitzi bowed her head slightly. ‘And thank you for defending mine.'

Les watched her take a sip of Bacardi. If he'd been wearing a hat he would have taken it off to her. ‘You're a tough little woman, Mitzi. I haven't met too many like you.'

‘You're not bad yourself, Les.' Mitzi tossed back her head and laughed. ‘But honestly, Les, that was nothing. When we stormed the Kuro Gu building I watched students being beaten to death by the riot police. We fought with petrol bombs, iron bars, house bricks — anything we could lay our hands on. The air was that thick with pepper and tear gas you could hardly see,
and all we had for protection was toothpaste smeared over our skin. I got knocked out three times, had my nose broken twice.' Mitzi started punching at the air and chanting.
‘Dok Chae Tado! Dok Chae Tado!'

‘What does that mean?'

‘Smash the dictatorship.'

‘Oh! Sounds like fun. But I reckon smashing the odd jarhead's jaw'd be a lot easier.'

Mitzi took another sip of Bacardi and smiled at Les. Although he was looking at her in a new light now, it was obvious from the expression on her face that the mild-mannered accountant's adrenalin was still pumping a little; she'd also got her rocks off during that fight in the lift. There was definitely another side to Mitzi Moonkiss, and a few things Les would like to have said to her and asked her. For the time being, however, he thought he might let it slide.

‘I might put the radio on,' said Les, moving across to the ghetto blaster.

‘Why don't you put another one of those tapes on? I liked that one about the Outback Club.' Mitzi started mimicking what Les said to the marines in the lift.

‘Yeah, all right.' Norton got a tape from his overnight bag. ‘It's on the other side of this one. But this'll do for the time being.' He pressed the play button and ‘Cavazally' by Nathan Cavaleri came twanging pleasantly out. ‘So what's doing tonight? We still going for a drink?'

Mitzi looked slightly surprised. ‘Are you for real? Of course we are. Drinks at the GG Tuesday night.'

‘Okay. So how are we going to work this out? I reckon you should jump under the shower first.' Mitzi nodded.
‘And while you're in there I'll iron something. Is that place casual?'