The Boys from Binjiwunyawunya (19 page)

Frank tore into Les, throwing lefts and rights which nearly all landed and stung. But one on one, even for an ex-pro
it was no match. As soon as he got settled Norton swung a peach of a left into Frank's face that completely mashed the tall Aborigine's mouth and made his already broken nose ‘even broker'. A short right, straight after, split open his cheek and flung him back against the toilets. It was almost lights out time for poor Frank. But instead of following through with another barrage of punches Les took him by the front of his tracksuit, moved slightly to one side as he jerked him forward, and in almost the same movement grabbed Frank by the scruff of the neck, shoving him face forward up over the washbasins and into the full-length mirror. Frank's big, bony forehead split open and sent cracks splintering along the glass at the same time. The linen handtowel was still rolled out all over the floor and as Frank began to slide to his knees, Norton grabbed a length of towel, wrapped it around Frank's neck and began choking him. With Frank turning blue and gagging for his life, Les dragged him to his feet, spun him around and forced him up over the basins again.

By now Frank's face wasn't the most appetising sight in the world. His hair was matted with blood and tears were streaming out of his eyes, running into the blood pouring from his nose and mouth and the wicked zigzag cut in his cheek. ‘Now listen — you fuckin' yobbo,' hissed Norton, his eyes about an inch from the barely conscious Aborigine's. ‘I didn't come here looking for any trouble. I'm over here for another reason altogether. But if you, or your smartarse boss want trouble, I'll give it to you. By the container load. You understand?' Les jerked the towel around Frank's neck. Kilby's offsider was in too much pain and discomfort to say anything, but the terrified look in his eyes said the message had got through. ‘Good,' smiled Norton. ‘Now, Frank, you're a bit of a mess old mate. I think we'd better get you cleaned up.'

He dragged Frank across to the nearest toilet, pushed him through the door, shoved his head down the bowl and pushed the flush button. Frank coughed and spluttered as Les kept his head down and the smelly water slooshed up his nose and into his mouth, turning a weird purple as the blood blended in with the blue flushmatic. Norton dumped him casually in the cubicle, checked on the other two, who were still snoring soundly, and with a grunt of satisfaction walked out of the men's room.

With all that noise and shouting, thought Norton, it's a wonder nobody's come in to see what's going on. As he opened
the door he saw why. Another Aborigine, big but more overweight than anything else, had been left standing outside to make sure Frank and his two cohorts weren't disturbed. The blackman didn't actually turn white when he saw Norton suddenly appear out of the men's room unscathed. But he certainly went a very milk coffee colour.

‘You a mate of Frank's are you?' grintied Les. The Aborigine gave two very short, very quick nods. ‘Well he needs you inside. There's no toilet paper and he wants you to hold his legs while he does a handstand under the blow dryer.' The Aborigine blanched even more, gave Norton a double blink, then turned and ran inside.

There was no blood on Les's face; he'd made sure of that in the mirror as he walked out. Apart from a sore knuckle, a sore ear and a thickening above his left eye, he hadn't been hurt. For a fairly willing fight with three big men he'd hardly raised a sweat. But he hadn't lost his thirst. His middy was still sitting on the bar with his change, so he downed that and ordered another, drinking it pretty smartly while he watched the shocked looks on the faces of the small group of men surging around the front and coming in and out of the men's room. Oddly enough, apart from the goon who'd been left standing outside, nobody seemed to know who did it. But Les surmised that it would only be a matter of time before someone said something. He finished his middy, deliberated on whether or not to get another, then decided to leave.

Walking back to the hotel, Norton's amusement at the funny side of belting Frank and his mates started to wear off and a few worrying thoughts began to enter his head. Frank was a twenty-four carat mug and deserved to get flattened, there was no two ways about that. And so did his two mates. But from another angle that little incident back at the RSL could cause some repercussions. Price had been adamant that nothing was to happen to Kilby or any of his associates because of the newspapers. And knowing Frank's type and how they operated there would be no way he would tell the truth about what happened. It would come out more like Norton and a few of Galese's heavies jumped him outside when he was drunk and gave him a kicking. And now that they'd found out who he was — how they did was still a mystery to Norton — what would Kilby's reaction be? He'd have to interpret this, along with Les calling into the AWEC office, as Galese trying to put pressure on him. The one thing Price didn't
want. Now Kilby could dig his heels in and demand more money. He could go to the papers with Frank and scream assault and intimidation. It was only their word against Norton's and Kilby could do any bloody thing. If this bone-pointing thing didn't work out, and Les was getting dubious about that, he could find himself right up shit creek, without a paddle and with a rather large hole in the bottom of the boat as well.

Norton's mood grew gloomier and gloomier as he approached the hotel. And it grew even more so after he'd told the boys what had just happened.

They'd turned the TV back on and were sitting in the same spot watching a Bryan Brown movie when Les walked in. At first they didn't appear to take all that much notice, but when he explained to them who Frank was Tjalkalieri reached over and turned the TV off and the three of them sat there staring at Les — incredulous, almost horrified looks on their faces.

‘And one of the men you just beat up. This Frank,' said Tjalkalieri. ‘That's Percy Kilby's offsider?'

Norton nodded glumby.

‘And he's in the AWEC office with Kilby nearly all the time?'

Norton nodded again. ‘I imagine so.'

Tjalkalieri turned to the others. ‘Shit!' he cursed. The looks on Mumbi and Yarrawulla seemed to echo Tjalkalieri's sentiments precisely.

Norton stared at the three of them for a moment or two. ‘Why, what's the trouble?' he shrugged. ‘It's not going to make any difference to what you blokes are up to... is it?'

‘That's where you're wrong, Les,' sighed Mumbi. ‘It's going to make a difference all right. A lot of difference.'

Norton's jaw dropped slightly. After the other thoughts that had been running through his mind this was all he needed. He stared at them for want of an explanation.

‘You see, Les,' said Tjalkalieri quietly and seriously. ‘Kilby can draw strength from this.' He gave a brief, sympathetic smile at the dumb, hurt look on Norton's face. ‘It's hard to explain to an outsider. But with Frank in the office all day next to Kilby, and us trying to take away Kilby's Kurinata, his Kurinata can draw not only on Frank's pain, but the revenge and hatred that would be inside him for you.'

‘Yeah,' added Yarrawulla. ‘And this... this aura of hatred
and violence entering right into where we're pointing the bone. It could bugger things up completely for us.'

‘Shit!' cursed Norton.

‘This pointing the bone is a very involved, very complicated ceremony Les. I know we tend to make light of it and make it look easy. But there's a lot more to it than what you think. There's a hell of a lot of things can go wrong. And this is one of the worst things that can happen.'

Norton closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Shit!' he cursed again. ‘So what happens now?'

‘We honestly don't know, Les,' sighed Tjalkalieri, giving his head a bit of a shake. ‘And I don't want to alarm you. But ... it's not looking too good.'

‘Bloody hell,' cursed Norton once more. ‘Just my fuckin' luck.'

Everyone was silent for a moment. There was just the noise of the wind against the balcony door and the gentle spattering of the rain on the tiles.

Mumbi rubbed a little warmth into his arms and got to his feet. ‘I'm going to make a fresh pot of tea. We'll talk about it over a cuppa.'

Mumbi made the tea and they sipped it slowly while they talked between themselves, mostly in their own language. Les just sat there, cursing himself for going into the RSL in the first place. The boys stopped talking. For a few moments there was complete silence. Then they had another quite excited burst, nodded solemnly to each other and turned to Norton.

‘We may possibly have just one card left up our sleeve,' said Tjalkalieri. ‘It's a dicey one, but it might work. But if it doesn't...' Tjalkalieri shrugged his shoulder at Norton.

‘What is it? Tell us.'

Mumbi shook his head. ‘We're tired and we're going to bed,' he said as they all got to their feet. ‘We suggest you do the same, and we'll talk about it in the morning.'

Norton nodded his head and stared disconsolately at the floor for a little while. In fifteen minutes they were all in bed. Despite what Tjalkalieri had just said, the big Queenslander felt pretty ordinary as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. It was a very worried Les Norton who finally got off to sleep about an hour after the others.

The rain appeared to have stopped when Les walked out into the main room around seven the following morning. The southerly was still blowing, though not as hard and nowhere
near as cold. Through the open balcony door Les could see several small patches of blue in the grey lumpiness of the sky. The empty cups on the table next to the teapot told him the boys had been up for a while. They were stripped down to their tracksuit pants, daubing themselves with ochre and feathers, and while Les's eyes were grainy and he felt a little tired from not sleeping so well, the others looked fresh and relaxed.

‘G'day fellas' he said with a slight yawn. ‘How are you?'

‘Not too bad, Les,' replied Tjalkalieri. He was standing side on to Norton as Mumbi daubed his back with yellow ochre. The others, who were already painted, gave Les a cheery greeting also.

Despite their freshness, Norton could detect a very businesslike manner, almost a sense of urgency. He studied them for a moment or two then walked towards the table.

‘Any tea left?' he said, placing a hand on the still warm teapot.

‘There might be one cup left in there,' replied Yarrawulla.

There was, just, so Norton poured it and took a seat.

‘So what's doing? You want me to go and get you some breakfast?'

‘Not this morning,' replied Tjalkalieri. ‘We might have some fruit for lunch. That's about all.'

‘Whatever.' Norton took a sip of tea while the others continued to daub Tjalkalieri with symbols. ‘So what's the story anyway? You said something last night, Chalky, about having one last card up your sleeve. What is it?'

‘I'll tell you in a minute. Just wait'll we finish doing this.'

Norton continued to sip his tea, watching intently as Mumbi finished painting a pair of braces in white circles and yellow dots across Tjalkalieri's back. The others were painted in fairly similar fashion, only in red and brown. All had blood-smeared parrot feathers in their hair and tucked up under their stringy black headbands. After a minute or two Mumbi stepped back and nodded to Tjalkalieri.

‘Yeah. I reckon that ought to do,' he said.

‘Right then,' replied Tjalkalieri. ‘We'll have time for another cup of tea then we'll get stuck into it.

Yarrawulla went to the bathroom as Mumbi put the kettle on and Tjalkalieri walked over to Norton.

‘Righto, Les,' he said, ‘I'll try and give you an idea about what's going on. We're going to have to chant like buggery today. All day. Probably right up till about five. Then we've
got to be left alone in the room for about an hour while we go into a trance and summon up the serpent spirit.'

‘The serpent spirit?'

‘That's right. And I'm not even going to bother trying to explain it to you.' An air of brittle politeness crept into Tjalkalieri's voice. ‘In the meantime, you've got to arrange a confrontation with Kilby for us. Can you do that?'

‘A confrontation?'

‘Exactly. And not in his office, and not right up close to him. It's got to be about twenty feet away. Can you arrange that?'

Norton took another sip of tea. ‘I'll have to won't I,' he shrugged.

‘If you want this to work you will.'

‘When do you want to see him?'

‘About an hour after we finish our trance. Say six thirty. But no later than seven.'

‘Okay. I'll work something out.'

Yarrawulla re-entered the room just as Mumbi finished making the tea. He gave the others a cup each and looked at Les who shook his head.

‘Now you got all that?' said Tjalkalieri. ‘We have to front Kilby no later than seven. And it's absolutely vital that we do.'

‘As a bean,' nodded Les. ‘I'll sort something out.'

‘Good on you. Now,' Tjalkalieri turned to the others, ‘Kilby and Frank are in their office. We'll finish our tea then I think we'd better get stuck into it.' The others nodded in agreement.

Norton got up from his seat, walking across to the open glass door and looked out over the balcony. There didn't appear to be any cars or movement around the AWEC office. He scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment and turned to the others. How would they know if Kilby was in his office yet or not, he wondered. I still don't know about all this bloody mental telepathy bullshit. And what's all this about summoning up the serpent spirit? Norton shook his head. If you ask me, this is turning into one big shemozzle all around. Why did I open my big mouth in the first place?

He sat back down on the lounge chair and let the others move to the balcony door. The bone was on the floor wrapped in the cotton sheet. Tjalkalieri picked it up, handed it to Mumbi, who had slipped on the Kurdaitcha shoes, then after nicking all their arms with the sharpened piece of quartz
and bleeding onto the bone they started chanting and dancing once more; Mumbi with the bone in his left hand and the hair chord in his right playing it towards the AWEC office.