The Day of the Gecko (10 page)

‘Les Norton?'

Les turned slowly around. ‘Yeah.'

‘I'm Major Garrick Lewis. Eddie Salita said you were expecting me.'

It was hard to guess Major Lewis's age. He would have to have been at least in his fifties, but he looked more like a grainy mid-thirty, and the way he wore his brown hair wisped across his forehead in a kind of Beach Boys style gave him an even more youthful appearance. A pair of dark green eyes, set in a straight, square face above a slightly broken nose, seemed to weigh you up like a bag of tomatoes while he looked at you and a wide mouth stretched across two rows of perfect white teeth gave you the impression of a semi-permanent, if slightly cynical, smile. He was wearing plain light brown cotton trousers with a plain khaki shirt, a blue peak cap and a dark grey photographer's kind of vest with about a hundred different pockets in
it. There was a large, black, zipped-up canvas carry bag at his feet and an overnight bag across one shoulder. But what surprised Les was a metal crutch under his right arm. He had a white Adidas trainer on one foot and a sock on the other bound into a canvas and rubber brace or splint that went up to his shin. Great, thought Norton. The galloping major's a bloody cripple. And I'm lumbered with him.

‘Yeah, that's right.' Norton offered his hand. ‘I'm Les, anyway. Pleased to meet you — Major Lewis.'

‘Call me Garrick. And I'm pleased to meet you too, Les.'

The major's handshake was brief, but very firm and very businesslike and when he straightened up off his crutch he came up to just under eye level with Les.

‘The car's just out there,' said Les, nodding towards the main entrance. ‘I'll give you a hand with your stuff.'

‘Thanks, lad. I'd appreciate that.'

Norton picked up the major's bag and they started slowly towards the car. ‘What happened to your ankle?'

‘I sprained it.'

‘I've done that,' replied Les. ‘It's a proper bastard.'

‘Yes,' agreed the major. ‘It is.'

Les couldn't tell if Garrick was smiling when he said that or it just looked that way.

They didn't say anything else on the way to the car. Les put the major's bag in the back along with his overnight bag. He went to take Garrick's crutch but the major preferred to lay it in front of him after Les opened the door and he manoeuvred himself inside.
Norton climbed behind the wheel and they proceeded towards the Eastern suburbs. They went back up Eddy Avenue and had reached Albion Street without a word passing between them, when Les thought he'd better say something. He had the radio off and it was getting almost embarrassing.

‘Well, I guess we both know what this is all about, Garrick.'

‘Yes. Eddie's explained to me what's going on.'

‘And did he tell you where you'd be staying?'

‘Eddie explained all that, too,' replied the major.

‘Right. Well at least we both know where we stand in that department.' They drove on in silence till they got to the Captain Cook Hotel.

‘Did you, ah, have a good trip down?' asked Les. He didn't particularly care, but he had to say some bloody thing.

The major turned from the window to Norton. ‘What exactly are you trying to say, Les? Is there something on your mind? Problems? Doubts?'

‘No. No. Nothing like that.' Les shook his head. ‘But I have to admit, I'm a bit curious about you. I mean, how do you know Eddie? What's your caper? I've been in a few capers with Eddie and Price.'

‘Oh, don't worry, Les. I know all about you. I've even seen you in action. You're there, lad. No two ways about that.'

‘That's very nice of you, Garrick. Now what about you. Where are you? Here, there, where? What about a bit of SP. Of course, if you don't want to tell me, that's okay. I understand. No offence, Major — sir.'

Major Lewis seemed to smile for a second. ‘Okay,
Les. You want a full profile on Major Garrick W. Lewis, alias The Gecko. All right, I'll give it to you in a nutshell. I used to be in the army, I live on a farm on the North Coast with my wife and three kids, and I blow things up for a living.'

‘That's it?' said Les.

‘That, and I'm also what you could call a soldier of fortune. I was a major in the Australian Army. Army Intelligence. Special Operations. Then Shadow Company — where I met Eddie.' The major looked up at Les. ‘I was an explosives expert, Les. More than that. I'm said to be the best there is. I was a scientist at Sydney University when I went straight into Army Intelligence and Special Ops. I can do things with explosives others are still thinking about.' Garrick smiled again and his tongue seemed to flick around his mouth, reminding Les somehow of a lizard. ‘Now I just travel round the world blowing different things up for different people. Bougainville. Brunei. I did a lot of work during the Gulf War.'

‘Bloody hell!' Norton was impressed. ‘And you're married?'

‘Yeah, married a Kiwi nurse I met in Vietnam. A Maori. So between my army pension and the odd explosion here and there, Les, I manage to feed the wife and kids, send them to school and keep a roof over our heads. And we all live happily on the farm.'

Norton had to smile. ‘Well, bloody good onya, Garrick. Sounds like you've got it together. Good luck to you, mate.'

‘Thanks, Les.' Lewis made a gesture with one hand. ‘Of course, I have to admit I don't mind doing this on
odd occasions. Life on the farm's good. But you need a bit of excitement now and again. Plus there's the earn, of course, Les.'

‘Of course.'

‘The wife knows what I do. She doesn't mind. Her and the kids are probably glad to get rid of me for a few days.'

‘Do you like a drink, Garrick?

‘Moderately.'

‘Fair enough.' Les went past Bondi Junction towards Old South Head Road. ‘Anyway, I imagine you and Eddie'll have a few things to talk about when you catch up with each other.'

‘Yes. It'll be good to catch up with young Edward again.'

‘Hey, Garrick. There was something else I wanted to ask you?'

‘Yes, Les. What was that?'

‘Eddie mentioned that same nickname you just did. The Gecko. How did you get it?'

Major Lewis rolled back the left sleeve of his shirt. Tattooed in black, brown, light blue and red on the inside of his forearm, was a fat gecko lizard, about ten inches long, with splayed tail and webbed fingertips. It looked good.

‘So that's it,' said Les. ‘It's a beauty.'

‘That and something else,' said the Major.

‘Something else?'

Garrick smiled and his tongue flicked across his lips. ‘Yes. But we won't worry about that for the time being.'

Les nodded and thought he might let it go at that.
‘Okay, Major — sir. Whatever you say. At ease or as you were. Take your pick.'

They headed down Old South Head Road to turn right into O'Brien. Garrick wasn't talking, which had Norton thinking. Yes, you can bet your life there's another side to Major Lewis. Alias The Gecko. Plenty he won't let on. Then why should he? And one thing was for sure. There's no shit in this bloke. He's the most straight up and down man I've met in a long while. He's a professional. He is a Soldier of Fortune. Les took a left at Simpson then a right into Hall. Though I wonder how the poor silly bludger stuffed his ankle? Next thing Les hit the buzzer, the shutter rolled up and they were in the garage. Les took Lewis' bag, helped him up the stairs and through the front door. Soon, Les had opened Susie's door, hit the security buttons and they were standing in the middle of the lounge.

The first thing Garrick said was, ‘Shit! Look at all those bloody CDs.'

‘Yeah,' said Norton. ‘They belong to the owner. Come on, I'll show you your room.'

‘Just hang on a minute, Les.' Garrick placed his crutch on the lounge, sat down next to it and began unlacing the canvas splint round his ankle. Les watched as he finally got it off, tossed it to one side and started rubbing and scratching his foot. ‘Ohh, shit! You reckon that doesn't feel better.'

With a kind of dry look on his face, Les watched Lewis stand up, walk round the flat and do a few squats. You didn't have to be an orthopaedic surgeon to see there was nothing wrong with his ankle. ‘That's an
amazing cure, Garrick. How did you do it? The power of prayer?'

‘Exactly, Les.' The Gecko smiled back from over near the curtains. ‘All the way down in the train, I prayed that my ankle would get better. And it has. It's a miracle, Les.'

‘Yeah,' nodded Norton. ‘You should be working with Tammy Baker. And I just rolled into town on a cabbage. Don't give me the shits.'

The Gecko sat back down on the lounge, picked up his crutch and stood it in front of him. ‘Les, would you do me a favour, please? Would you put my crutch against the wall.' He pushed his crutch over to Norton.

Les went to catch the crutch easily, expecting just a light alloy frame. Instead, it was that heavy it forced his arm back and he almost dropped it. Norton held it for a moment, then looked at Garrick. ‘What the . . .?'

‘Parts of spent uranium shells from the Gulf War, Les. Heavy little critters, aren't they. Try lugging them on and off a train all day stuffed inside a lead-lined crutch.'

Les looked a bit gingerly at the crutch he was holding in his hand. ‘Spent uranium shells?'

‘Yes. The American Tank Divisions used them as tips for their anti-tank shells. I've got pieces of them in there and I know how to cook them up again.'

‘Cook them up again?' Norton's eyes were like ping-pong balls when he stared at The Gecko. ‘You're not going to . . .'

Garrick laughed and shook his head. ‘No, Les. Nothing like that. I'm just going to make a low-yield fusion thing. Normally this is for smashing through solid metal. Concrete'll be like a piece of sponge cake.
And nice and neat.' The Gecko stretched his arms. ‘There'll be a little bit of radioactivity. But nothing to worry about.'

‘Nothing to worry about,' repeated Norton.

The Gecko shook his head and a few strands of brown hair wisped across his forehead. ‘No, nothing really. Now,' he said, rising to his feet, ‘which is my room, lad?'

Even though he knew Major Lewis wasn't a cripple, Les picked up his bags for him. ‘In here, mate.'

Garrick said he wanted to unpack a few things and sort some others out. He didn't say anything about the room. He just picked up his crutch and put it carefully in one comer. Les showed him where the phone was and the bathroom, closed the door and left Major Lewis to his own devices. If he wanted him, he'd be in the kitchen. Les made coffee for one, then sat down and had another think before Eddie arrived.

Well, isn't this a nice kettle of fish I've got myself into. Or crutch full of uranium. That bloke might be a soldier of fortune, but half the seats are missing off his Ferris wheel. What's he gonna do? Melt the concrete with low-yield fusion, or some bloody thing? Great, won't that be a nice blow-up, so to speak, if it goes wrong. Norton shook his head while he sipped his cof-fee. Still, I suppose it couldn't be any worse than that silly bloody thing me and Murray let off back home. Bloody Eddie. He sure knows how to find them. But how the hell do I get mixed up in all this shit? All I was doing was helping out an old friend in her moment of need. I was on a bloody good thing. Les shook his head again. Still, it's only till Friday — with a bit of luck.
Les heard the shower run and stared disconsolately into his coffee and wondered how all this shit he didn't want to be in in the first place would pan out. He was still staring into his coffee, after the shower stopped, when the intercom buzzed. Les got up and walked over to the sink.

‘Hello. Eisenberg bar-mitzvah.'

‘It's Rabbi Goldman. Open the door, I got some good tips for you.'

Les zapped the front door, then let Eddie into the kitchen. The little hitman was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, much like Les.

‘So how's it going, Eddie. All right?'

‘Good. Yeah. Lewis get here okay?'

‘Yeah. He's just got out of the shower. You want a coffee?'

‘Glass of cold water?'

‘In the fridge,' replied Les, sitting back down at the kitchen table. ‘Help yourself.'

Eddie found a glass and opened the fridge. ‘So how have you found Major Garrick Lewis?'

‘Surprising,' replied Norton. ‘Very surprising.'

Eddie sat down with his glass of water. ‘So you both got on all right?'

‘Like two little lovebirds,' smiled Les.

Eddie detected just a hint of sarcasm in Norton's voice. ‘What did he say to you?'

Norton leant across the table. ‘Eddie, who does this cunt think he is? Frederick fuckin' Forsyth? He's gonna blow the bloody joint up with spent uranium shells, or some fuckin' thing, from the Gulf War.'

Eddie eased back, smiled and made an open-handed
gesture. ‘I told you he was the best. And talking about the best . . .' Eddie looked up.

‘Hello, young Edward,' came a voice from near the kitchen door.

‘Gecko!' Eddie's face broke into a grin. He got up, then walked over and shook Garrick's hand. Les watched as they went into the usual backslapping and bonhomie two old friends are apt to do when they catch up with each other after a while.

‘Jesus! You're looking well, Eddie.'

‘So are you. But,' Eddie made another gesture with his hands, ‘when didn't you?'

Lewis was wearing boxer shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He had strong legs, a flat stomach, hard sinewy arms and equally strong-looking hands. Norton had to agree. ‘Can I get you something, Garrick. Coffee, tea . . .?'

Garrick moved into the kitchen, looked at Norton's plunger and took a sniff. ‘That coffee looks all right. Any chance of one?'

‘I'll make a fresh pot.'

‘Yeah, bugger it, I'll have a coffee too,' said Eddie.