On Cringila Hill (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

David brings the car as close as he can to the station entrance and Gordon hobbles over. As they pull out into the street the mood is sombre.

‘I'll tell you what it is that I think,' Gordon says at length.

‘What's that, Chilly?'

‘That things happen. They're unexpected. And, when they happen, you have no choice but to respond. Even if you decide not to do anything, that's still a response, and you have no choice. What you're going to do was decided by things that happened a long time ago.'

‘Sure.'

‘Tell you another thing. I think some of us spend a lot of our time trying to win the approval of people who, we know, are never going to approve of us. Sometimes even the dead. But even if we have
contempt
for them, still we keep struggling, to show them, “See? I
am
worth something!”'

David Lawrence pulls down the corners of his mouth in response, but concentrates his vision on their hilly path.

‘Michael Laecey used to quote poetry,' Gordon continues. ‘Auden was his favourite.' They are down through the hills, approaching the shopping centre in Warrawong. “Motives, like stowaways, are found too late.”'

‘Yeah? Motives found too late?'

‘“Each in the cell of himself is nearly convinced of his freedom.”
No, turn left here, please David. Sorry to give you the call so late. And get yourself into that carpark by the lake.'

Gordon has seen Luz Solomona get into an old Ford, seen it pull away, seen Jimmy Valeski alone on the jetty.

Gordon shuffles his way out onto the jetty. Jimmy watches him coming. Gordon leans against a railing, lowers his head, grimaces in his pain.

Jimmy says, ‘What? Them pyjamas you got on under that top?'

‘Yes, Jimmy. That's what you can see.'

‘Way police is dressin' these days?'

‘I can imagine that it disappoints you that my standards aren't higher.'

‘Don' worry 'bout it.' Jimmy leans on the rail beside Gordon. Together they watch the far-off yacht race that now is under a misting of rain. ‘'Nother thing: don' call me Jimmy Valeski, is my preference. Is not my name. Is what it suited other people to call me but is not who I am.'

‘Of course, I'll respect your wishes. And what is your name?'

‘Dimce Rodriguez. Is who I was christened. Well, I was christened twice, which I guess not too many people can say. An' I guess is a funny kinda name, but is who I am. Rodriguez was my father's name. What I hear, he maybe wasn' too much of a man. But he was my father. I'm his son. An' I ain't pretendin' 'bout that, to please no one.'

Gordon says, ‘Sure.'
He peers up the lake at the yachts. ‘You once raised a matter with me.'

‘Did I?'

‘You spoke of a murder, you called it
another
murder, as I recall. Do you want to talk about that a little bit more?'

‘Nah. Thought about it. One person left could tell about it. You could strap him to a table, put electricity on his nuts, he ain't gonna tell ya nothin'. He'd like it, defyin' ya. What happen' is what happen'. No good's gonna come.'

‘I think that witness you're describing is your grandfather.'

Jimmy turns his head, gives a pleased smile. ‘
That
what ya think?'

‘It is. I think the dead person is your father.'

‘What interestin' thoughts you got,' Jimmy seems amused.

‘I'm not going to let it just be ignored, Dimce. There's another person involved, it's important to me. If I ignored it I'd have no way to go on. It might cost me, but I'm not going to turn away.'

‘Yeah? Soun's pretty impressive.'

Gordon looks at his young companion. ‘This is what I was taught – bad things happen, and society has got to respond. We live in a world where things have to get put to rights.'

‘And you're the putter-to-rights person, are ya?'

‘Seems that way.'

Dimce smiles at Gordon. ‘Lotsa luck,' he says.

‘Now,' Gordon says, ‘I have to get back. I've got a lot of ground to make up at home and I suspect things are about to get a lot worse.'

‘Yeah? Well, good luck wit' that too.'

They watch each other awhile. It's become very cold. Gordon gives Dimce a nod, and shuffles back to the car.

Chapter Twenty-seven

When Dimce gets home Piggy's on the verandah. ‘Wha's happenin'?' he asks, sitting down next to his friend, his back against the wall.

‘Feizel got a message from some Italians. They wanna meet him.'

‘He goin'?'

‘Sure.'

‘When's that gonna be?'

‘Five-fifteen tonight.'

‘Just when the sun's goin' down. Bad time.
Why's
he goin'?'

‘Says he don' go, they gonna come lookin' for him through town. Better this way, get over whatever's gonna happen. They say they jus' wanna talk, but he don' believe that.'

‘Yeah, well, who would? Who's he got with him?'

‘I'm gonna go down.'

‘Jus' you? Tha's what he's got?'

Piggy nods.

‘What, he asked that you should go?'

‘Nah. Tol' me not ta but I'm goin'. I went to see him, talkin', what we was sayin' before, what if there's a place for me. Then he tol' me this stuff.'

‘He tell ya to tell me?'

‘Nah, he said not ta. Says you goin' to Queensland, don' work with him no more. Says not your problem.'

‘An'
you're
goin'?'

‘Yeah, maybe can do me some good with Feizel, if I help him.'

‘An' maybe get ya killed. Those boys play rough, if they the same ones we met inna alley. Well, they play as rough as they
know
how ta play. You go down you jus' be a distraction to Feizel, maybe make the difference where he gets hurt real bad.'

‘Aw, Jim …'

‘No point not facin' how things are.' Dimce reaches up his left arm, tries to flex his hand. ‘Where's this ta happen, do ya know?'

‘Carpark above the league's club in Port Kembla.'

‘Okay. I'll go. You stay away, is the best help you can give.'

‘That'll be hard for me to do. Truth is, I'd hoped maybe I could sort somethin' out, provide somethin', be a big help, settle things, but it's too soon.'

‘Why's it too soon?'

‘Right boat's not in town. Gets in next week.'

Dimce shrugs – his friend is talking in riddles.

‘You got that bad arm, Jim.'

‘Yeah, well, we'll work roun' that.'

When Piggy is gone, Dimce rides down to Port Kembla. The parking lot is up the hill from the club so that when you stand on it you are level with the top storey. He has put on a jacket, because of the wind, and he has his hands in its pockets, looking around. The cement surface is uneven where some slabs have subsided and weeds are growing up out of the gaps. He notes that; he doesn't want to trip up his footing and fall. To his left he can see the eastern end of the steelworks, great silo buildings, chutes for product to go down, rusty-metal walkways.

He steps down from the elevated parking area, which is the size of several football fields. He prowls its edge, finds an area of brick reinforcing that has crumbled. He kicks and prods – half a house brick comes away. He collects this up, wonders where Feizel plans on parking. As near as possible to the entrance, he guesses, close to public scrutiny. He places his half-brick under some weeds, rides back home, to wait for it to be time.

Around five Dimce heads back down to Port Kembla. He waits in the laneway next to the parking area. He can see Fiezel's old Volvo parked where he'd expected, near the eastern entrance. Feizel leaves the car, stands waiting, checks his watch. In the failing light, two figures reach the top of the hill, approaching from the direction of the highway. They're walking, which surprises Dimce – he'd expected a car. He gets on his pushbike, starts along the laneway. His hands are trembling and sweating, he feels ill. The two men are walking quickly towards Fiezel. One reaches out to push him, Feizel withdraws a little to give a bit of space, shakes his head, takes up a stance for fighting.

Dimce rides up quickly, tosses the bicycle to one side, stoops and scoops up his half-brick in his good right hand, gets up, advances on the little group. One of the strangers creates a bunched fist behind his back. Dimce gets closer, they're bigger-looking to him now. He trots the last of the distance, someone turns at his approach, lifts his eyebrows in surprise, and Dimce swings through the brick with all of his weight and strength, aims for the exposed right cheekbone, hears the crunch. He sees the head swing around on the neck, knees give out, and while the companion has turned to look Feizel lifts up his right arm, pushes his weight forward, leans in, sweeps his arm through and he hits the man's temple with his right elbow, follows through. When his man is down, sprawling on his knees and chest, Feizel kicks him twice, once around the kidneys, once in his jaw. Dimce looks at the two. The first man down is on his side, his body is trembling, he's coughing up blood. Dimce hears a running sound and turns to see Piggy coming hard across the parking area. He's carrying a cut-down baseball bat.

Feizel says, ‘Get inna car.'

‘Nah, I got my bike.' Dimce looks around. No one else is approaching. He throws the half-brick bouncing across the cement.

‘
Get inna fucken car!
' So intense is the command that Dimce shrugs and goes to the vehicle. Feizel has it moving before his passengers have their doors shut. Dimce can see that Feizel's hands are trembling.

To Piggy, Dimce says, ‘I tol' ya not ta come.'

‘An' I tol' ya ta get fucked,' Piggy says.
Dimce scowls at his young friend. ‘Jus' in my mind, Jim,' Piggy says. ‘Never say it out loud to ya.'

‘Where'd ya get that bat ya got?'

‘Stole it from school. Cut it down myself, with a saw I stole. Not as good as what I intend. But was bes' I could do, short notice.'

They head back through the hills. Feizel parks in the street below Dimce's house.

‘I like that bike,' Dimce says. ‘Go back tomorrow, is gonna be gone.'

‘What, you was gonna take it up to Queensland was ya?'

‘Well, maybe no, but I liked it. Coulda
give
it ta someone. Coulda give it ta Piggy.'

‘I'll
buy
Piggy a bike. Get him a
good
bike. No way to know who's aroun', how they travellin'. Not havin' you out on them streets, not know who maybe is lookin' for ya.'

‘How ya feel?'

‘Fucken terrible. Like I wanna vomit.'

‘Me too. Always feel that way after that sorta stuff.'

They climb from the car and lean against Dimce's front fence. It's dark, now, and very cold.

‘Know why we can do this business?' Feizel says. ‘Cos we can handle that shit. If you carn, better stay off the streets. Streets no place for someone carn handle that shit. That one you hit. How bad hurt ya think he is?'

‘Bad enough. He'll see hospital. I hit him onna cheek but, not onna temple. Hit him onna temple, maybe kill him. Is somethin' my grandfather taught me. Don' hitta temple 'less ya mean it.'

‘They gonna be gettin' sick of
you
, boy.'

‘Well, they wanna catch up they gonna have ta come ta Queensland.'

‘Yeah. Good. Tell ya what else I think: after that thing happen to Abdul, people gonna be thinkin' “guns”. Next time them boys come back, gonna have a gun, more likely than not.'

Quietly, Piggy says, ‘You're right about that, Feizel. I'm sure about that. Been thinkin' that for a while now.'

‘See, day gonna come,' Feizel says, ‘we standin' here, car gonna pull by, slow down, window's gonna be down, someone gonna start blazin' away at us.'

A car turns into the street, comes towards them, slows, pulls up opposite them. The three boys stand, watching. They are very tense. A girl gets out, maybe twelve years old. She has on a pretty dress with bows. The car waits for her to go up to her front door but she turns, waves.

‘Hello, Jimmy,' she says.

Dimce waves in return. ‘Hello, Lucinda,' he says. ‘Hope you had a good time.'

‘Oh, I
did
! I had the
best
time.'

‘Yeah, tha's good. Tha's nice.'

The three boys watch the little girl vanish into her house on the lower side of the Hill.

When the car is gone, Feizel says, ‘I tell ya what I need. Gonna need a gun.'

‘Oh, Feizel! Come on! Where ya gonna get a gun? What ya gonna do? Walk inna some pub, say, “Anyone wanna sell me an illegal firearm?” Great way to meet an undercover cop, it seems to me.' He chuckles, hugs his arms across his chest in the cold. ‘Do that, the guy you talkin' to gonna be the Chief of Detectives.'

‘Don' do nothin,' Piggy says. ‘Jus' wait awhile.'

Dimce goes on, ‘An', ya get a gun, what ya gonna do wit' it? I'll tell ya what: gonna shoot your dick off.'

‘Nah,' Piggy says. ‘You'd go up to the Bangalow forest, learn to use it, fire off some rounds for practice.'

‘Soun's like you been thinkin' 'bout this.' Dimce looks at his friend.

‘Yeah,' Piggy says, quietly. ‘I have.'

‘You expectin' them back?' Dimce asks Feizel. ‘Them, someone else. You think this the end? What, you know what this is 'bout, who's doin' it?'

‘Yeah, I think I prob'ly do. Maybe this is a guy got big plans. Someone wants to go ahead in a big way up north, in a not-so-big way down here and put the two together. Someone thinks he's smart. An' he
is
smart, but maybe not so smart as he thinks he is. An' I guess he hears enough to know you were goin', maybe thought you was already gone, get me at a weak time, maybe bring me back in later, but lower down the tree. An', see, Jim. I'm not gonna let him
do
that. This is somethin' I built up, takes care of me, takes care of my family, some my frens. Don' suit me, jus' get crushed unner, be the way someone else wants I should be, just cos he can think of ways to use more money.'

‘If ya get a gun, ya gonna kill him?' Piggy asks.

They think about that for a while. Eventually Feizel says, ‘Tell the truth, I don' think of that as my firs' option. But I'll tell ya this – there's a guy called Vincenzo. Maybe he took on a bit more than he thinks.'

‘I'm goin' in,' Dimce says. ‘Not gonna be roun' too much longer. Wanna spend the night wit' my mama.'

‘Sure. Be careful.'

‘An' 'nother thing. Don' call me Jimmy no more. Not my name.'

‘Ah. Wha's your name?'

‘Dimce. Dimce Rodriguez.'